It was an unbreakable thing – the compulsion of a werewolf set down by a vampire. They were created to serve the Elder and Countess Mioara was one of the Eldest. She had left Klink with her orders and she had left with confidence – sure that he could never break free. There should have been nothing on the Earth, baring the King himself, which could have broken it. It took him three days.
The problem was she did not know Klink very well and the kind of relationship that he had with the English vampire was not what was to be expected by a traditional vampire like herself.
It was perhaps as far removed than the expected as possible. As vampires went Newkirk was very big on those around him maintaining their free will and since it was so very easy for Peter to subjugate the living and lesser creatures, even by accident, he had made arrangements for those were-creatures he dealt with on a regular basis to protect them. So while the spell had hit Klink, wrapping him in its bindings, it didn't really sink in, in the way it was supposed to instead it hit tiny, nearly imperceptible threads of warding that ran all through Klink's being. These did several things but in essence, all those things protected him from magic.
If only that worked on human beings – the rest of the camp was probably a bewitched mess…well, Carter was probably safe. Though not technically in thrall to Peter he was an enthusiastic volunteer in the few times that Peter had been forced to directly feed on a human and he had followed the other man around like a puppy even before Klink and Newkirk had turned. That had left the two of them connected in a way that Klink found difficult to understand but he could smell it. And what he could smell, he knew was real.
When he did manage to break free he exploded into his wolf for like an inferno tearing across the yard and into the barracks. He could smell Her everywhere but it wasn't fresh so she wasn't close. He wondered what mischief she was seeking to pull her from camp and her…work. When he hit Hogan's office and saw his Pack awake and mostly whole he threw himself at Peter like a puppy that hadn't seen its Master in a fortnight.
Peter allowed him to put his paws up on his shoulders but grabbed his muzzle before he could lick him on the face, instead putting his snout over the vampire's shoulder and wrapping trembling arms around the wolf's neck. Alder breathed in contentment – savoring the feel of being with his Pack Alpha.
Klink, however, took a step back and shifted – colored red in his embarrassment. Both the Englishman (less so) and his other half (so much more so) were more demonstrative when it came to affection than he was comfortable with. "Geht es dir gut Newkirk?"
"Nein, bin ich nicht," Peter answered, shaking his head angrily. "How did a ruddy vampire get into camp? There is blood magic dripping…everywhere."
Klink winced a little at Newkirk's tone – it was beyond livid and made a face at the image Peter's description summoned. There was a bit of blame in there, the werewolf was supposed to be watching camp when the vampire was indisposed. He shrugged sheepishly. "She came in with Papa Bear and the cubs. You were unconscious and everyone else was heavily compelled. There was nothing I could do but try to unravel my own binding when she placed it."
Peter signed and nodded, accepting his assessment of the situation. He knew the Kommandant's weaknesses almost as well as his own. Wolves were not meant to stand up to Blutesser. "She has the Colonel well gob stopped, and the other mates as well I am sure. Though…she may be having a hard time with Carter. I haven't seen him..."
Klink nodded – it was possible. Carter may be their best ally in camp due to his… unique condition.
Hogan was sure he should feel insulted, alarmed or at the very least upset about…something. But he existed in a fog where only slight unease could penetrate. When he spoke the words didn't seem to come from his mind – he more felt like a recording. And since Newkirk had commanded him to show him his neck, and his initial outburst of denial, he had more or less just stood still, waiting for more instructions. Deep inside he thought he heard his own voice screaming.
"What can you do?" Klink stared at Hogan, the Colonel looking mildly back at him. "I can smell the weakness on you. You won't be able to break her spell with the amount of magic you have at the moment."
Peter gave him a withering glare but didn't argue. If he concentrated he could feel Her hold on the Colonel and it was strong. Hogan was well on his way to becoming a Thrall to Her. There was no spell that he knew of (not that extensive of a list) that could free his Colonel. But…maybe…
A thought occurred to him, a dangerous thought. "I may not be able to break it but I may be able to slow it down." He held out his hand to Hogan. "Give me your hand Colonel." He was instantly obeyed. "You are probably going to hate me forever but this will get us a bit of time to get this mess figured out."
Hogan blinked dollishly at Peter, even as the vampire put his wrist up to his very sharp canines and bit into the flesh and veins underneath. Clarity, pain and pure bliss washed away the fog in Hogan's mind as the vampire's saliva released endorphins and a drug very similar to opium poppy into Hogan's system. The hold of the Countess over his mind dulled and grew distant as Newkirk's presence swept over his brain, pushing at the magic that held Hogan captive, and running his own enchantments over the American's being. At that moment Hogan began to see why the Countess had seemed so uneasy when they had first run into her and why when Peter was unconscious she seemed so much more confident. Her power came from age and age alone but Peter was much stronger than he should have been (by comparison) for having been turned less than a year before.
Too soon Peter opened his mouth to release him and licked the wounds on his wrist to seal them. The Colonel barely suppressed a moan of disappointment as his high crested and then fell back into a mild buzz. His face colored but he managed to fight the urge to crawl under his desk and hide.
Peter stepped back, struggling with his own side effects. He was not used to direct feeding. He frankly avoided it at all costs. He had only ever done it on a few occasions with Carter (each an emergency) and the vampire had been optimistic and pyromaniac for a week. This was much worse – everything that the Colonel was rushed him like he was the enemy lines the sheer force of his personality and the intensity of his emotions was overwhelming. He sat down on the floor, wrapping long arms around knobby knees and stared at a spot on the floor. He didn't try to fight it – the force of Hogan's personality was too strong, instead, he just let it rush over him and drop into the back of his mind, coating his own personality like a rainstorm on dry ground. He would eventually dry out and be very nearly the same person he was before.
When he finally heard Hogan's voice on the outside it was clear that the American had been trying to catch his attention for several long minutes. Klink stared anxiously over the Colonel's shoulder. Peter grabbed hold of Hogan's resolve and confidence, wrapping it around him like a blanket. It was going to be with him for a while; he might as well take advantage of it.
"Newkirk? Are you alright?" Hogan was trying not to freak out…Newkirk could tell – a great deal of his brain was operating under the concept that it was Hogan and he knew Hogan very well.
"No, not really." The words came out with none of his standard inflections – it was as American as apple pie. He stared up at the few pictures Hogan had on the wall, recognizing friends and missing family members whose names he hadn't known three minutes before. He shut his eyes tight like a child trying not to see the dark in his room. "This is why vampires are crazy you know…" He forced a little of the proper accent into the words but it was far from perfect.
"Yah." Hogan pulled him up onto his feet and helped him sit on the edge of the bunk. "I know – thanks."
Peter collapsed onto the bunk, face first. "Not really something you should be thanking me for." The blankets helped muffle how odd he sounded. It was Peter's actual voice but it was the same inflection, the same tone, the same emotions that he heard in his own.
Hogan patted his man on the back. The situation had been far from ideal but he knew that there had been no other choice. His thoughts and mind still felt leashed but the one holding the lease was giving him plenty of slack. "It had to be done. How did you know that would work?"
"You cannot be mine and hers at once. It may not work long haul." He pushed himself up so he could look Hogan in the eye. "She is beyond me." They both ignored the fact that Hogan immediately dropped his eyes when their gazes met, nearly submissive in body language.
There was silence for too long a moment and then they both said, to attempt to comfort the other "We will figure something out."
More than a little creeped out, Klink decided it was time to make his exit and check on the rest of the camp.
Peter was weak enough to sleep – something he had only done a handful of time since he died. The daytime somnolence wasn't truly sleep – his body just stopped and it was seldom that he had any recollection of even the passing of time between dawn and dusk. Sleep, on the other hand, was rare and happened only when something was wrong. He had not taken enough of Hogan's blood to do more than raise his condition from rundown to exhausted.
Hogan let him rest, covering him with a blanket and going to check on the state of the other men. Most seemed to be tired, in a daze or just uninterested in whatever they were doing. And then there was Carter – having a full-blown animated conversation with his mouse as they sat on Newkirk's old bunk.
"Oh hey, Colonel." The SGT looked down at his CO. Everything about him seemed normal for him – his hair was sticking straight up, his eyes held a half-mad gleam and his lunch was being shared with a very talkative rodent.
Hogan nodded at the other American. "Carter." His wrist twitched as he looked up at Carter – feeling a strange connection with the young man like there was a thread connecting them.
"You feeling better Colonel? You've been a bit out of it…just like everyone else to think about it." He looked around at the rest of the barracks.
"Yah Carter – feeling much better. Why don't you put Felix to bed and come into my office? I need to talk to you about something."
"You got it, boy…Sir."
The younger man followed him into his office, a constant stream of chatter flowing up and over Hogan unheard and unacknowledged. It did not stop a single word from its frenzied fall to the floor.