It was a very sleepy and very grumpy looking Erik that Maarten was met with when the bedroom door swung open.
Said man was not at all happy, nor was Cecilé if Maarten were to judge by the look on her face.
"I don't know how your body works," Erik grumbled, "But contrary to popular belief in this household, I do need sleep,"
"Yeah, I know. I know," Maarten waved his hand. "but this is important,"
"So is sleep," Erik growled.
"Shut up and let me in,"
"Can't we take this to the living room?" Erik asked, eyes narrowing suspiciously at Maarten.
"No," Maarten frowned and pushed past the both of them without another word.
"Hey wait just a minute," Erik reached for Maarten's arm and caught his shirt, "Explain!"
"I will," Maarten hissed, "But close that fucking door first,"
Cecilé looked uncomfortable standing between them, until Erik slowly closed the bedroom door.
"Explain," Erik said coolly once the door was closed and locked once more.
"The gatekeeper can take the shape of others," Maarten whispered.
"What?" Cecilé looked worriedly at Maarten and then at Erik, "How do you know?"
"Because I just had the fucking thing confront me looking like Ciprian," Maarten grumbled, picking at his nails as he tried to remember if the 'person' he had seen had been an exact copy of the young boy or if there were any differences.
"Ciprian?" Cecilé looked puzzled, "What an odd person to choose to copy... don't you agree?" she glanced at Erik who nodded slowly in agreement.
"Maybe it was just the start?" Erik muttered to himself, deep in thought as he scratched the faint traces of stubble on his chin.
"What do you mean?" Maarten frowned.
"Maybe the gatekeeper started with Ciprian but will try to impersonate someone else later?"
Cecilé looked at Maarten worriedly and stepped a little closer to Erik.
"I'm still me," he snarled at her. Offended that she was even doubting that it was himself who was standing in front of her.
"Calm down," Erik said coldly, reaching out to give Cecilé's hand a reassuring squeeze.
"We need to warn the others," Maarten said sternly.
"Of course," Erik nodded, "However, if this gatekeeper can turn the monsters back to normal vampires and silence a whole house... what's to say it's not already done something else?"
"So you want us to do nothing?" Cecilé raised an eyebrow at his words.
"No," Erik shook his head, "But let's go about this systematically,"
"How?" Maarten crossed his arms and glared.
"We three now know what the gatekeeper can do. So why don't we slowly try to figure out if anyone else is being impersonated or manipulated?"
"What good will that do?" Maarten wasn't sure about Erik's plans, but he didn't think he'd be able to do anything on his own about this problem.
"It will hopefully make the gatekeeper think it's winning whatever little game it's playing, simultaneously as we can slowly build a trap for it,"
"Okay, I get where you're coming from, but what if it doesn't work? How will we know if someone's being impersonated?" Maarten was trying to think of how Erik's plan could work, but all he could think of was threatening people until they told the truth.
"We know the rest of these people well. At some point the gatekeeper has to let something slip. Eventually we can create a little code word or such and easily find out if anyone is not who they say they are,"
Maarten pondered the plan; it wasn't fool proof and he wasn't certain it could actually work – but he couldn't think of a better way right now himself.
"Fine," he sighed, "Let's lay low,"
"We need to appear as if we're not scared," Erik said in a low tone, "If this gatekeeper has sinister plans then we can't let it get the better of us so quickly,"
"I know. I know," Maarten frowned. He hated how on edge he was becoming over every little shadow and sound. Even furniture being moved made him uneasy.
He felt like a blind man in a new house with no one to guide him or tell him where to tread to lead him where he wanted to be.
"Now, can we get back to sleep?" Erik asked somewhat annoyed.
"Yeah, yeah. Sorry for waking you," Maarten grumbled and unlocked the door, "see you in the morning," he said with a whisper before he closed it behind him.
With a heavy sigh he began walking down the corridor, trying to establish if anything was different.
He returned to his own room with no plans to sleep – instead opening book after book to see if anything could shed a little light on the situation.
Nothing.
No book could give him any advice or clue on how to solve this problem.
There was nothing to be found anywhere to help him decide what to do next.
"What are you reading?" Halldór leaned over his shoulder and Maarten slammed the book shut so fast his scarf got trapped within the pages.
"Nothing," Maarten snapped in reply.
"Uuhu..." Halldór rolled his eyes, "Well, when you're done with nothing, come down for dinner. Francis has been showing off in the kitchen and the amount of food has now gotten so large we need everyone to help eat it,"
"Sure, sure," Maarten waved him off and pulled his scarf out from in-between the book's pages.
With a frown he pushed it away from him and stood up, shuffling slowly across the floor and making his way downstairs.
The sound of laughter and happy voices hit him as he reached the ground floor, mixed in with the pleasant and mouthwatering scent of freshly baked pastries and home cooked food.
Maarten stopped just out of view and listened for a moment.
Cecilé was telling Veronique and Anika how Erik had proposed to her, which couldn't have been very successful the first time around given the amount of whining from Erik about how she really shouldn't tell them about his first attempt.
He could hear Annelise ask Francis questions, inquiring about the ingredients and cooking times for each dish he had whipped up, and between Gilbert's loud laughter and Bash's grumbling – Maarten could hear that Francis was clearly happy to share his knowledge.
"You joining us too?" Mircea said as he leant out of the door and grinned at him, making Maarten jump a little backwards in shock and clutch his heart.
"Yeah," he replied once his heart rate had slowed down somewhat.
"Ciprian is loving it, you should see his smile!" Mircea laughed softly and cast a glance back to the kitchen.
"Is he loving the food or the attention?" Maarten asked and rolled his eyes.
"Both I think," Mircea smiled in return, ignoring or missing Maarten's foul mood – Maarten wasn't sure what happy cloud Mircea was living on right now, but he hoped he stayed there.
He was a lot less annoying (and dangerous) when content.
"Come on, you're less fun than the dead," Mircea smiled and grasped Maarten's hand.
"Are you implying yourself and 80% of that room are no fun?" Maarten cocked an eyebrow at him.
"Actually I think were more more like 60% vampires versus 40% humans," Mircea said after a moment of thought.
"Fuck off you know what I mean," Maarten hissed before Mircea dragged him into the kitchen.
"Oh look, the hermit emerges," Francis smirked and tossed Maarten a croissant.
"And now I feel like leaving again," Maarten replied bitterly, although he did take a rather large bite of the croissant before saying anything else.
"Nonsense," His sister scolded, "You should help out. Even Ciprian has been helping decorate the cakes,"
Maarten's gaze wandered over to the small child who was holding a piping bag and trying very hard to concentrate on drawing little stick figures all over the cake.
"I'm making everyone!" Ciprian explained proudly, and even Maarten had to crack a smile at the sight of the icing stick-figure version of himself. Spiky hair, a scarf and a frown.
"He's captured your likeness to a T," Gilbert laughed.
"That he did...," Maarten shrugged, "He even remembered to make me taller than the rest of you,"
Gilbert's smile faltered for a moment before it returned full force.
"Come on, sit down," Mircea commanded, and before Maarten could protest any further he was seated next to Ciprian and trying very hard to not get icing all over his clothes, a feat that became harder for each passing second as Ciprian was insistent on Maarten helping him draw flowers around the borders of the cake.
"I should draw you less grumpy now," Ciprian said after a while.
"Oh?" Maarten replied, licking icing of his fingers and trying to catch Gilbert's attention to get him to pass him a beer.
"Yes," Ciprian nodded, "You look less angry now than before,"
"I see..." Maarten hummed, watching the little boy carefully draw a final flower on the cake.
"And you make my brother happy,"
"What?" Maarten coughed, quickly glancing around to check if anyone else had heard that.
No one was paying him or Ciprian any mind. Even Mircea was busy trying to sneak a taste of the batch of cookies Francis and Anika were making.
"Yes," Ciprian nodded.
"I think you're a bit confused here Kid," Maarten sighed, "He's glad you're here,"
"And you," Ciprian stuck his tongue out and blew Maarten a raspberry, "I just know,"
"Do you now?" Maarten smirked with amusement.
"Of course," Ciprian huffed, "I'm his brother. I know everything,"
"Oh really?" Maarten chuckled and ruffled the kid's hair, "I somehow doubt it,"
"I know what you are..." Ciprian whispered so softly Maarten wasn't sure he had heard him right.
"Pardon?"
"I know what you are... my brother did it to you,"
Maarten froze.
"I have no idea what you're talking about," he replied coolly, all senses on high alert – was this Ciprian or the gatekeeper? He had completely forgotten that it could be either of them.
"You're not just like him. Not yet. Or..." Ciprian paused for a moment before continuing, "Not any more..."
"What nonsense are you talking about?"
"His magic," Ciprian sighed and Maarten was certain everything around him came to halt.
The gatekeeper was back. He was sure of it.
"Magic? You think your bother can do magic?" Maarten rolled his eyes and tried to stay calm, tapping his fingers slowly against the table. Maybe Erik would notice too and help him. Maarten hoped so at least.
"I don't think. I know," Ciprian frowned and turned to glare up at Maarten.
"Uh..." Maarten wasn't sure why someone so young-looking was making him feel so at unease.
"Look," he finally managed to say with some authority, "I don't know what lies your brother has been feeding you, but we're nothing alike,"
"No lies," Ciprian shook his head and cupped his hands, "I just know,"
Maarten stared at the boy with confusion, wondering if he should wave Erik over or even Cecilé.
However; before he could do anything the whole room went dark.
He knew this feeling.
The chill up his spine.
The sense of unease.
And this time he was right next to the source of it.
"What the hell?" He whispered to himself as he watched black smoke emerge from Ciprian's hands – swirling like shadowy snakes and engulfing everything and everyone in darkness.
"It's hard to control it..." Ciprian mumbled and Maarten felt sick.
There wasn't any gatekeeper.
There wasn't some outside thing trying to harm them.
It had been Ciprian.
It had been the little kid all the time.
The realisation knocked the breath out of him and Maarten could feel himself shiver and shake.
"You... you got his magic," He managed to stammer forward.
"I don't want it. But I can't give it back," Ciprian frowned, "I keep trying, but all that happens is that people fall asleep or stop and stand as still as statues,"
"Everyone..." Maarten mumbled.
"Apart from you. You're difficult to make sleep. I tried a few times, just to see if I could,"
"You're the reason I've been feeling chills down my spine?"
"Maybe?" Ciprian frowned and looked thoughtful, "I'm not sure what happens when I can't make people sleep,"
"Can you unfreeze everyone now?" Maarten looked around the kitchen. "It's not nice seeing them like this,"
"Are you going to tell my bother I have his magic?" Ciprian looked worried.
"Uh..." Maarten hesitated. He wasn't sure what he was going to tell anyone. Or what even the next step from here would be.
"Don't you want your brother to know you got his magic?" he asked carefully instead, hoping to change the topic somewhat.
"No," Ciprian shook his head, "Because I know he misses it. And I don't want him to know I have it. Not yet. Not until I can give it back,"
"But maybe he knows how to get it back? Or even Arthur and Veronique might be of help," Maarten argued.
"But if they don't..." Ciprian whispered and drew his knees up under his chin, "What if I can't give it back to my brother?"
"Then he'll still be happy you're here," Maarten tried to reassured him, Mircea had been unpredictable and wild when angry or upset, he had no wish to find out what a small kid, with no idea of his powers, could do when emotionally imbalanced.
"Well... what if I ask them for help and we'll take it from there?"
"You will?" Ciprian's worry seemed to disappear in seconds, eyes alight with hope and glee.
"Yeah," Maarten nodded, "But in the meantime you have to stop playing these weird magical games, okay?"
"Okay," Ciprian nodded too eagerly that he almost hit his head against the table.
"So.. can you get these shadows to go away now?" Maarten gestured to the darkness around them.
"Oh yes. I think," Ciprian scrunched up his face in concentration and held his hands out.
Maarten watched as the darkness faded little by little till nothing was left.
Everyone went back to what they had been doing before with no signs of having felt or even noticed the shadows freezing them on the spot.
Mircea's magic was certainly powerful, and Maarten hated that it was all in Ciprian's hands.
Surely; such powers should not be contained within something so small and young. If he could even call Ciprian young. Technically the kid was older than all of them bar Mircea.
"Oh, are you two done with the cake?" Anika leaned over the table and smiled warmly.
"Yes," Ciprian smiled and beamed with pride.
All Maarten could do was nod.
No one else knew Ciprian had magic.
No one knew he was the one they had thought about hunting.
He had to speak to Erik.
And Arthur.
Even Halldór and Veronique would be vital.
But how?
When?
How could he tell them Ciprian was the one who was the potential threat without Mircea getting wind of it?
"You okay?" Cecilé asked, "You're looking a little pale..."
"Yeah, I'm fine," Maarten mumbled, "I just need a cigarette," he grumbled and stood up.
He ignored her worried look, pausing for just one second to glance back at Ciprian.
The kid was clinging to Mircea's leg and chattering happily away to Francis.
He needed fresh air and nicotine.
He needed time to think.
But most of all;
Maarten needed time to sort out the mess of thoughts and emotions brewing within him.
From within the shadows something he had never thought could be possible had emerged – and it had taken the most unlikely form.