Author Note: Thanks for reading :) Enjoy.
LaCroix steered Amelia back down the hallway and into another room. She followed his direction stiffly; distrustful for obvious reasons. She felt underdressed as well; wearing her nightdress and dressing gown. Neither were indecent or inappropriately suggestive, and showed barely a hint of skin. But even so, this was not exactly how she intended to appear, and really it had been stupid to explore just wearing this.
This was a room she had never been inside before, another drawing room but smaller than the other she had been in. As it would be morning in an hour, the windows had blackout blinds and shutters which blotted out all daylight once they were down. He led her to the sofa which she sat on gingerly; still shaky, numb with shock and still wary.
"Drink this," he offered her a glass of something, which she looked at suspiciously and pushed it away at first. "It's just Cognac, Miss Siddall. I insist you've had quite a shock. It will soothe your nerves."
She stared at him. Debating within herself whether to voice her incredulity at this offering, because she was still nervous of him. Knowing now that he was a vampire, she couldn't be sure of the risk of antagonising him. "You can't be serious? A shock? If I'm shocked then it's because of you. Now you're pretending as if everything is normal. And then -"
"Don't test me. I don't have time to give you a detailed explanation. So, a summary shall suffice," he chastised her wearily, putting the glass in her hand. "This could have been much gentler, had you behaved yourself. You do not realise, but I'm treating you with more generosity than I ought."
"Had I behaved myself?" she raised her eyebrows. Letting a hint of defiance through her wariness. "All this strangeness about me here - how could I not want to find out the truth? You cannot blame me for curiosity," she said warily; holding on to the glass in both hands to keep them from fidgeting.
"Perhaps not, but as I told you, curiosity is a dangerous thing. Most people in your position would have ignored whatever they noticed. And most would have noticed nothing, anyway." LaCroix sat on the chair next to her, "but not you. You are more perceptive than most."
"So," she fiddled with the glass, "if you knew that, why this subterfuge? Why not be honest? Why draw it out?" Amelia wondered about the first time she met him - what she had seen - but thought it may not be the time to ask about that yet.
"Do you really think telling you such a thing would be useful? And could you have honestly believed it?" he seemed to pause for effect. "Your observational ability was noted. And, considering what you saw when we first encountered each other, I thought it necessary to monitor you. If someone, anyone, comes into the knowledge of our presence in your midst, it threatens the very fabric of our existence. So, I could not bring you into such knowledge at the outset, without first assessing you. Which, apart from this transgression, you had met the requirements successfully."
Amelia stared at him wide-eyed, "assessing me?" What's this - the craziest job interview ever? She felt her stomach turn with anxiousness. Her hands were shaky."Did you want to see how long it would take me to notice? Like a test? Well, I guess I've passed. Frightening me to death like this must be all very amusing for you, I'm sure. I hope it was a good laugh."
"No. Such a frivolous aim would not be my concern." LaCroix looked at her, then with a downward glance of the eyes, as if in thought. "In hindsight, it could have been more subtly done. Part of the intention of engaging you with this assignment was to observe how much you could deduce. However, you were not meant to find out as you have tonight. Your recent actions made it necessary to engineer it. Tell me, you spoke to someone while at the Columbia University Library today. What did he say?"
Her brows furrowed. Confused and slightly defensive. "He spoke to me. I didn't start talking to him. I told you he was… strange."
"But what of these?" LaCroix asked, taking something out and laid them on the table. The rosary and piece of paper. A bolt of shock rushed through her.
"How did you?" When had he had time to get those from her room? And she noted how he could touch the rosary with no negative effect on him. "I-I didn't say anything to him. I didn't tell him anything."
"I already know that you didn't." She had adhered to the NDA she had been required to sign at the start of the employment contract. "But, that does not mean there is no harm done. Talking to such an individual, no matter if you do not admit to anything, could be a risk. Your suspicions had become too much potential liability. And so, though not my original intention, you had to find out like this tonight."
"So," Amelia decided to take a sip of the Cognac. It was good. Smooth and rich; a warmth that built. Mmm, that's really good. I dread to think how much that cost. But why would a vampire even want that? she thought then refocused herself. "When were you planning on telling me then?"
"When it was the correct time."
Well, that's not really an answer. She looked out of the window at the rain hitting the glass. "What's going to happen to me?"
"That I have not yet decided," he went to the window, looking out on the dismal, rainy night. "As you can imagine, it is undesirable that you know what you do. Then there is this curious and defiant streak in you," he circled around her. "Here you are, sneaking about in the dead of night. Breaking in no less. And with these effects," he noted the lock-pick, Swiss army knife and letter opener pen he had confiscated. "Insignificant as they are - how can you be trusted..."
"I wasn't planning to do anything," she protested. "I was just… curious, I suppose. And - you said that you knew I would" she sighed, deflating back on the sofa.
"What did you think you would do after discovering the truth?"
"To be honest I… I don't think I really knew."
"Hmm, perhaps you are quite foolish then. But, what need have I for someone so naive?"
Knowing that he would not just let her go, and he might, therefore, prefer her dead… unless she could give him a reason to keep her alive. "You… need me to finish the assignment that you employed me for?" she suggested unsurely.
"It is not significant, and can be done without," he dismissed her.
"But… you said that I was doing a good job with it. Surely I could help with something else then?"
"Indeed. But, there are others I can already call upon, and still, others that I could procure for it. So, what reason have I to keep you in particular, especially now?"
"Well, then you might as well just kill me then if that's what you mean is the last resort."
"Such a drastic measure is unnecessary," he said flatly without pause. But it seemed he had expected her to initiate negotiations - like recommending herself for a job or making a business deal - and was miffed that she hadn't given him the pleasure of a discussion he would relish. "No… You will stay with me. You can assist me in some capacity, I suppose. You have some useful knowledge and skills. And, you've done well with what I engaged you for in the first place… Apart from your inquisitive transgressions," he replied. "But understand, what I'm offering is not charity. You must know that you answer to me now. This is not simply an employment relationship that you can forget when not in working hours, nor resign from. You are mine. I want you to be my attendant and you will serve me."
She stared at him open-mouthed. "So - what? I'm your slave now? Is that what you're saying?" The words tumbled out as a sinking feeling of dismay seized her.
"If that's the way you want to describe it," he didn't contradict her, so at least he was honest about it. "But I can make it worth your while."
"I don't care about how much money you have," Amelia responded immediately. Feeling anxious, yet finding some strength. "You can't be allowed to do this - I mean, technically this can't be legal? You can't do this. I-I won't let you."
"I think you'll find I can," he said quite coldly.
"How am I supposed to live?" Amelia protested, patting the sofa annoyance. "I'm supposed to be going home, my visa-"
"It will be taken care of."
"But," she jumped off the sofa and paced to him framed in the window. "But, I can't just stay. There are things I need to sort out. And, oh, I can't just disappear. People will wonder why... You need not have me! Surely, someone else would be more convenient for you?"
"As I said, it can all be arranged," he showed no reaction.
"But, why go to the trouble? There must be hundreds - thousands - out there that you could choose," she gestured out of the window. "And much more easily. Why must it be me?"
"There are others of more experience and skills who could be more easily procured. But they do not know what you do. It is best not to bring more than the minimum necessary into this knowledge. There are only a few options to solve this problem. Keeping you to work for me is the best in my estimation."
"But… can't you just let me go? I won't tell anyone. I doubt anyone would believe me."
He almost laughed, "there are some who would, even if most thought you mad. And you know of specific details, perhaps enough to convince that it is not mad ravings. No, you cannot leave. And, even if you did, how will it look if I were to detail your predilection for sneaking around as you have been?"
So he would make life difficult for her then? "But that's… not my fault. Anyone could understand if they knew."
"Perhaps, but no one can know. You will tell no one," his grey eyes held determination in them. "Do you understand me?"
Perhaps she could go along with it. "But I was only supposed to stay a couple of months longer. Not, whatever length of time you're expecting from me now," she opened her hands. "And what am I supposed to tell anyone who expects me back?"
LaCroix thought about that for a moment. On the one hand, it might have seemed preferable that no one knew. But on the other, people would look for her if she seemed to have gone missing. Better if it was legitimate and normal, innocuous to suspicion. "Tell them that you've had a job offer - one that is very lucrative for you. Surely, after studying and your academic accomplishments, they will be pleased for you."
"But I -". She didn't have any close family waiting really. Not now. So, she couldn't convince him that anyone would come looking for her. Of course, her extended family and friends might wonder, but she wasn't close to them, so the explanation that she had a job would be accepted and not thought strange. Her father, however, would have certainly questioned this and would want her back home. "I can't."
He turned around considering her with something like concern, "The situation will not be as dire as you think. I have expectations of course. Don't disappoint them. But, know that I am not unreasonable compared to others. You'll feel glad when you know more. I'll take care of you, so long as you do what I ask. You'll be quite comfortable. We can examine the details later, but you'll not need to worry. You'll be paid, and accommodation can be arranged, perhaps some expenses covered if required."
"Well, there's obviously a catch. What will I be expected to do?" She asked quietly but crossed her arms.
"Anything I'd like," he said as if it was obvious.
"Oh," that sinking feeling still there. She knit her hands together, wringing in nervousness. Paid for accommodation. Good salary and an allowance. Belonging to him. Being his attendant and companion. And, he was extremely rich so none of this was difficult for him. She did not like the sound of this at all. It sounded like he was buying her. What else did he want her to do?
He went on as if sensing her unease, "for now, I'll have you just in my Haven - where I live. That is the term we use for it," he explained as she furrowed her brow in confusion. "I know you can organise, manage and look after information and records, so you can assist in that capacity. Since your current assignment is incomplete, you will carry on with that as agreed. Then, you can assist with the move to Los Angeles."
"Ok. So… like a PA?" She was warming to the idea. Though the idea of going to LA did not appeal to her greatly. If she had to stay with him, she'd rather stay here in New York.
"Something like that. But, just here for now I suppose. I have others to deal with the business side, and you don't have enough experience for that." He was slightly dismissive. "You will continue in a similar capacity to your work so far, which you have done well with, by the way. I am pleased with you."
She seemed a little more cheered by that as if complement from him eased the issues. And the thought of interesting antiquarian books and old collections of items he still possessed. This situation might be quite comfy, maybe she could live with it? "Ok," she bit her lip. "But, would I have to -"
"Yes?"
"Erm," she swallowed, "let you… er, drink my blood."
"Perhaps."
"Oh." Well, of course - how obvious, she thought sarcastically.
"It need not be pernicious," he reassured her, but his expression had slight amusement. "In fact, you might find that you don't mind."
Certainly, in that dream, it was far from unpleasant, nor something undesired or traumatic. Quite the opposite. She felt herself going red. "What about... Anything else?" her voice trailed off.
"What do you mean?"
"Do you expect anything… intimate, I mean?"
"No," he said firmly and off-hand as if repulsed by something vulgar, which made her feel inadequate. But she knew how messed up that was - to be disappointed that he didn't want to take advantage like that. If anything it was a blessing. "That is not something to indulge in with Kine."
Since she knew that "Kine" was an archaic word for cattle, it stung to be referred to this way. She could see the sense it made for a vampire to whom people were just walking blood-bags that were sometimes useful, but no more. However he had been human once, and so the difference between them was not as concrete as he might like to frame it. Maybe he just didn't care anymore and was barely resembling anything human once the mask slipped. But she wasn't sure either way yet.
At least, in his way, he seemed to have a sense of propriety… even if it was due to his arrogance and superiority. A wave of relief washed over her at this. But the prospect of him wanting to drink her blood was more worrying - was that even safe? He might kill her, deliberately or accidentally.
LaCroix glanced at his watch. 6:30 am. It would be morning in half an hour. Amelia thought briefly that if only she could keep him talking longer, but it was obvious that he was too aware of the time for that to work. He went away from the window and sat on the sofa, and gestured her to join him. She followed, sitting next to him awkwardly.
He pressed a remote control, and the blackout-blinds and shutters went down over the windows, and the long curtains closed too. Plunging the room into a permanent night, as if in a world of darkness.
"Now, one more thing." LaCroix took off his suit jacket, which was slightly alarming to her. He removed a cufflink from his shirt cuff and loosened the sleeve, exposing the bare white flesh of his wrist. A sinking feeling. Somehow, she knew what was coming.
Regaining his sense of aloof composure, he straightened himself up, his grey eyes swept over her imperiously and met hers again with a look of speculative contemplation. It was like a languid dream that she watched him bring his wrist to his mouth and bite; blood beginning to stream down his ghostly pale wrist.
"What are you doing?" Her voice was uncertain as she peered at this curious act. "You… aren't going to turn me into a vampire, are you?"
"No," he said in a bored tone. She felt his hand snake around her with fingers that left a cool trail and rested around her arm. There was no pain; his touch was light yet the hold felt like iron. "I hadn't intended to do this quite yet, but given the circumstances…"
His bleeding wrist he offered for her to drink. She felt sick with worry. "You didn't say… I-I don't," she whispered hoarsely as one fresh from a dream.
He lifted her chin with a touch of his fingers and his eyes fixed on hers. And could hear her pulse had quickened with nerves. He anticipated her reluctance to drink his blood since she was afraid of forming an attachment to him.
"I don't think that's a good idea." She felt her sureness grow clouded in the full attention of his gaze. She felt slightly delirious. She could smell the richness of his blood so close and it made her nauseous to find she desired to taste it.
"This can be made easy," his eyes turned to ice with the edge of irritation in the low tones of his eloquent voice. Offered his superior blood and reluctant to taste it? Insolent mortal creature.
Her lips felt dry. Her eyes fell from his eyes to his wrist, bleeding and the redness of the blood contrasted on his pale skin was something a bit disturbing yet fascinating. How was he bleeding? He had no circulation. Her head bowed over it; hands tentatively taking his arm for a bit of reassurance and then a tentative dip of her tongue.
The blood tasted like nothing she could have ever tasted. Richness and cold power; yet it warmed her like the finest Cognac. Better than the one he had given her. No burn; just a pleasant, luxuriant warmth spreading down her throat and throughout her body.
He stroked her hair. His binding of her to him would not yet be permanent. It was not out of particular cruelness, but practicality and self-preservation. He would prefer not to necessitate this. Although some were reasonable, he found Ghouls to be troublesome because their attachment could devolve from loyalty to disturbing adoration, neediness and even base obsession to the degree that they became useless and intolerable. Perhaps, with her strong will, she would be different.