I was roused from my painting from a noise on the security monitor. I had a secret camera installed behind the TV, which was now alerting me to Christian's movements. On the small screen, he stretched and bolted out of bed as if just realizing where he was. Immediately, he attempted to light a corner of the blanket on fire to no avail. He then attempted the bed frame, everything on his shelves, and disappeared from view to presumably try everything in there. Ordering fireproof toilet paper had been a challenge, but nothing was impossible with a credit card and internet access.
He returned into view, knocking his wrought-iron chair over. Frustrated, he ran his fingers through his hair and attempted to make himself a small flame in his palm. I waited with bated breath to see if the phone call had been worth it. If it hadn't, I'd personally rip Bruce limb from limb for charging this much for nothing.
Christian's continued look of horror told me all I needed to know. Bruce had been correct. He brewed tattoos from Alchemist compounds and Moroi magic, usually to sell to humans to give them temporary "Superman powers." With enough money, Bruce had been convinced to conduct different research–how to suppress Moroi magic. It had taken him two weeks and half of my allowed bank account to perfect it, but he had eventually come to me with a tattoo that, if applied every week, would suppress Christian's fire magic. It was by no means a permanent or cheap solution, but it would only need to last until he was awakened. Bruce had done the first of them a few hours ago under my careful supervision.
Judging by the way Christian was attempting to kick the wrought-iron chair, his frustration was likely going to result in several broken toes. I stood, turning off the camera, and made my way down the hallway to Christian's room.
"How are you feeling?" I asked as I shut the door behind myself. He was seated now, presumably looking at his toes to check to see if they were broken.
"What did you do to me?" He thrust his palms towards me, eyes wide.
"It's temporary," I said, watching as he sagged in relief.
"Why don't you kill me already?" The bitterness in his voice surprised me.
"Why would I?" I stepped forward, leaning in towards him and flipping my hair over my shoulder the way I knew he liked. He swallowed and shifted in his chair.
"You're a Strigoi. Don't you eat babies for fun?"
"Of course not," I frowned. "You're getting off topic."
"Not enough nutritional value?" He leaned back, shifting away from me. His smirk was forced, but still there.
"I'm not going to kill you."
"So what are you going to do with me?" He nearly collided with me as he stood up suddenly, strode over to the armoire, and flung open the door. "Dress me up like a Barbie?" He slammed the armoire door, striding over to the window and throwing his weight against it. "Keep me here forever?"
"Not forever," I said. "Just until you agree."
Christian stopped mid-stride and turned to look at me.
"Agree?"
"Of course. Agree to be with me. Forever."
"Forever," he echoed in a lifeless tone. "Forever… like you want me to become a Strigoi. Like you. Like…my parents."
"The Moroi never accepted you, but you could be happy here. You would have all of us with you forever. You'd never have to be alone again."
"You're sick." I stepped back, shocked. His eyes widened and I realized I had stepped back faster than he could see. I had become inhuman to him once again and he did nothing to disguise his look of disgust. Refusing to let him see the hurt in my eyes, I turned on my heel and left the room, entering both combinations with one hand and blocking the numbers from his sight with the other.
I could be sick, I thought. He hadn't seen anything yet.
