Disclaimer: Don't own, don't earn. I'm just fangirling.
Author's Notes: In this chapter we get to focus on the healing part, though there will be much more of it in the next chapter. Consider this an aperitif. But please keep in mind that I am no expert, I am doing this for fun, and I am trying to use common sense and basic research to depict how would the healing look like in the fantasy world, amplified by magic too, so don't quote me on that. I took some liberties, as well. For example with names of the medicines and medical breakthroughs.
Warnings: Anyone afraid of syringes there...? No...? Good.
CHAPTER 2
The sun has barely started to rise, making the line of the horizon pink and light, the peaceful, but chilly night giving way to the warmth and radiance, when Ksenia stirred in her bedroll and started to yawn. She needed a couple of minutes to force her limbs to unfurl and stretch, as after a night on the cold ground she was quite stiff and sore. The bonfire was radiating just a little bit of heat, almost dead now, but still glowing red under the initial layer of ash and charcoal.
Making a deep sigh and rubbing at her puffy eyes, she made to rise. She sat up on the bedroll, scratched her scalp loudly; she was still a little disoriented and felt tired. Reaching for a stick to poke at the fire, she suddenly noticed two golden eyes fixed at her movements, pinning her to the spot she was sitting in with a mute, but obvious threat.
The wolf. Alucard.
"What?" she asked quietly. "What did I do?"
The wolf lifted its head, still looking straight at her. She grimaced in negligence and tried to stand up, but a low, quiet, long growl that came from the creature made her abandon the idea. The wolf was watching her and was clearly unhappy about her moving around on her own.
"Alright, alright... No means no," she muttered finally, laying back down with a sigh. She shook her head against the bedroll and stared into the sky. She could keep still only a while, though; her hands crept up to the wound on her side and gently palpated the area. I'll have to change the dressing, she thought, discovering some swelling, hotness and unpleasant tenderness under her fingers.
"That wound right there, and a collection of others, is precisely the reason why you should stay down." She heard a voice somewhere above her and to the right. Moving her head in this direction she saw a man sitting in the spot previously occupied by the wolf. Alucard. Adrian Tepes, Sypha has said.
"Oh good morning to you too, kind Sir," Ksenia answered, pulling the dressing away from her side and wincing in pain. "Thanks for your concern, but I will be fine. I meant to prepare breakfast. Perhaps since you're awake now and suddenly bipedal, you could rekindle the fire, please?"
Sitting up and straightening, she reached out for a bucket of water and a small piece of cloth sticking out of it. She wrenched the excess of the water and proceeded to clean up her side, which was smeared with a green paste of some sort. Alucard moved to add more branches and dry grass to the hearth.
"You know that if you keep putting pressure on that leg it will never heal properly. And I can smell the beginning of infection forming in this pitifully stitched wound from where I sit. You have a fever, don't you?"
Ksenia brought the back of her hand to her forehead.
"Maybe a little, yes. You can smell all that?" She asked, glancing at him.
"Yes."
"Useful," she muttered, reached for a small parcel next to her bedroll and rose. She stumbled and had to use a wall to prop herself up, but once she was standing her movements became more determined. She opened the parcel, took out a couple of green leaves and put it in her mouth to chew; then she turned around with her back to the dhampir and proceeded to take off the cotton shift altogether, as it was simply on the way. Her arms and shoulders creaked and popped again with the series of unpleasant, surprisingly loud sounds; Alucard winced.
Ksenia took out the green pulp from her mouth and smeared it all over her nasty stitching from yesterday. Then she put a new, clean dressing on top and started to secure it, wrapping a long strip of linen around her middle.
"Can you stop staring, by any chance?" She asked, her voice not really irritated, just inquisitive. She didn't make any attempt to cover herself nor did she show any shame; Alucard suspected it would appear to her as a simple waste of time, prompt and determined about her tasks as she was. She secured the bandage and bent to lift the shift from the ground.
"All I meant to say is you shouldn't overexert yourself. Have Belmont prepare the food, for example."
Ksenia glanced back over her shoulder and grimaced. She let the shift into her skirt, re-tied the strings around her waist tighter, and made to put back on her outer shirt and the belt. She put one shoe on, leaving the bad foot as it was, and grabbed a sturdy branch which she was using as a walking stick since yesterday. Only when she felt ready and collected, she turned to face Alucard fully and placed an intentional look in his eyes.
"Trevor is not supposed to move around much." She said simply, ignoring the dhampir's irritation. "He still has not recovered from a major concussion, a gash on his shoulder is big enough to see everything he has inside there, and I believe he might have a couple of cracked vertebrae. Definitely some broken ribs. He is in pain and he shouldn't move. Sypha is exhausted and faint, something to do with the amount of energy she must have used when raining fire from the sky. And bless her sweet soul, she's absolutely irreplaceable when there's a need for throwing fireballs, but she just cannot wrap her head around laundry, for example. So it's a space for me to step in and be useful. Now get out of my hair and for God's sake stop growling at me. I didn't do anything to you."
Alucard kept a straight and impassive face through the tirade, even if he disliked being spoken to in such a tone; he reluctantly peeled his piercing eyes from the woman and glanced towards Trevor and Sypha. In his sleep Belmont rolled on his back, but was still sleeping deadly still. If anything, his expression only darkened. His brow was continuously furrowed, and his jaws clenched shut. Sypha was cuddled to his side, her small hands gripping Trevor's cloak. She looked absolutely lost and minute.
Ksenia proceeded to wash the kettle from the leftovers of yesterday's soup to have it ready for heating up some water, but Alucard stopped her decisively.
"Ksienija, is it?" he asked, standing up. She nodded. "There is food and tea in the castle. I have a proper kitchen and I'm sure we will find something decent in the pantry to share over breakfast. I have a variety of medicines, too, in the lab. Instead of camping, which is not doing much in terms of help and rest, we should relocate there and find them proper lodging."
Ksenia sighed quietly, looking down at the sleeping couple.
"If that is an option, then I think yes."
"Will you bring them to the castle when they wake?" Alucard asked, taking his leave.
"I will. Before you go, can I ask you a favour? I wouldn't ask if I didn't have to."
Alucard nodded.
"Will you help me bring more water from the stream? There is a big pile of laundry I intended to do today, but my leg is, indeed, a hindrance."
All she got was a long, criticizing stare.
"There is hot water distributed around the castle's many baths with means of pipes. You don't need to bring any from the stream. If you wish to do the laundry, you can do so in there."
He waited politely for her answer, and she thanked him shortly. He turned around then and left, to slowly make it towards his father's castle, and figure out exactly how painful it will be to explain all of the mess, the abandonment, the dilapidation and two grisly stakes in front of his main door.
/*/
The main hall was ghastly dark and empty.
The entrance was still full of debris, shattered furniture, metal pieces of armor, bones even. Everything was covered in a thin layer of dust. It was evident that Alucard did not want to or didn't even bother with tidying, or indeed making the place livable. Not even in the scarce rooms he was using, like the corridor to the ground floor facilities, the kitchens, the baths. The chandelier was broken, sprinkling the corridor with myriads of glass pieces. The decorative armors toppled down, scattered. The door to the kitchens broken, hanging on one hinge. the stairs, woodwork and handrails in splinters. The place looked abandoned and dead.
Sitting in the quiet and neglected kitchen, Trevor was staring at the two small rag dolls sitting on the mantelpiece with authentic dread gripping at his guts. Alucard must have made them. He made dolls of him and Sypha, because he couldn't stand to be alone that badly. The notion of graceful, ethereal Alucard, always so collected, always so stoic and logical, falling to pieces over two handmade doll representations of the only friends he had was truly, deeply disturbing.
The kitchen back door creaked open and Alucard entered, holding a basket of vegetables and greens he had collected from the garden. Sypha jumped to help him, and inquired about his vegetable patch. Alucard answered calmly, pretending he didn't see what Trevor was looking at.
"It's nothing much, really. Just basic plants, easy to grow. There was a suitable book in the library, and I was able to produce some tools as well. First tries were unsuccessful, the seeds would not sprout or the plants would die because of weeds or insufficient watering, but I got it finally," he explained.
Ksenia was visibly fascinated with the big two-level stove, in which one could easily bake a couple of loafs of bread; she was staring at all sorts of kitchen equipment hanging on the walls and at the sink, with separate water supply running from the copper tap. She only knew something like this from the exaggerated tales of how the kings live in their castles, and even then she would not hear about pipes which distributed water and central heating and engines that were making all of this possible. She went completely silent in awe, visibly pleased that she was asked to make tea and use all these wonders.
A cup of hot, aromatic amber liquid was placed before Trevor. Ksenia added a spoonful of sugar and encouraged him to drink something. Alucard brought the prepared breakfast to the table and invited all of them to sit. It wasn't much, just some vegetables, game, couple of quail eggs and hastily prepared flatbread, but it was fresh and it looked inviting. Sypha put a bit of everything on her plate, Ksenia followed the example. Trevor had a hard time fighting with the nausea, so he settled for what he knew will stay down. Alucard didn't even bother taking a plate.
"After breakfast I'll prepare rooms for you," he said quietly. "Or would you prefer if it was just one room?" he asked, sipping his tea slowly. His hands were white as paper and trembling slightly.
"Don't go into trouble over us, Alucard, one room will be perfectly alright," Sypha said. "We can share. Just show us somewhere with two beds and we'll do the rest," she said, reaching for another flatbread.
Alucard gave her a questioning look.
"One for me and Trevor, one for Ksenia," she clarified, catching his expression. He lifted his eyebrows and nodded, but the look that he shot towards the newcomer was perfectly clear. You are not welcome. To his surprise, Ksenia gave him a very natural smile, bearing no ill will.
"Sypha, I don't think I want to stay here in the castle. I would prefer to return to the campsite," she said, and Sypha immediately started protesting, but Ksenia calmly produced a handful of valid arguments against it, like taking care of the horses, who would panic when brought too close to the magical structure of Dracula's fortress, or the need to explore more of the surroundings. She quickly changed the subject, asking Sypha to lend her a hand in sorting through the clothing and bedding and all of the items that needed washing. Even if a bit alarmed and suspicious, Sypha agreed; clearly uncomfortable with the idea of one of them sleeping on the ground, while the rest would share a featherdown quilt, she tried to breach the subject once again but Ksenia turned it around like it was planned all along.
"...you cannot sleep on the cold ground all the time, what about your injuries? And your joints? I think…"
"Speaking of joints, thank you Sypha for reminding me. I think we should take a look at Trevor's shoulder today. It's time to see how it is healing. A warm bath would do some good there, as well," Ksenia pointed out and rose from her seat. "Alright, it's late, I'll hobble away to gather all the dirty clothing, and you will come to help me once you're finished here, right?"
Ksenia put a warm hand on Sypha's shoulder, grabbed her walking stick and turned to the door. She glanced at Alucard and bowed her head to him politely.
"Thank you for the breakfast. It was kind of you." and with that she was gone, with only the sound of her walking stick in the distance marking her departure. Sypha sighed, obviously unsettled.
Silence befell the breakfast table. Trevor was still looking at the two, sad dolls on the mantelpiece.
"I should probably take a look at that shoulder" Aluard offered, looking at Belmont.
"Yeah, well... " Trevor smiled sadly. "I would appreciate it."
So it was bad. Alucard suspected that if it was a matter of minor importance, Trevor would never agree to anyone tending to his wounds, when he had Sypha around to fuss and fret over him. But since he didn't even put up a fight, he must have really needed proper medical attention. Alucard put his tea down and rose. "In that case, I'll be right back. I'll find you two a decent room and try to furnish it a little."
"But you didn't even eat anything," Sypha protested.
"I'm not hungry, Sypha. Please, excuse me."
The kitchen was once again wrapped in an uncomfortable silence. Trevor pointed a finger at the dolls. Sypha nodded and closed her eyes, dispirited. She had noticed it too.
"I tried talking to him, but he just… shuts me off." she said.
"He's pale. White, even. His hands are trembling. He has wounds that do not heal, I don't know how old, and they do not end at his wrists. He obviously hasn't been feeding." Trevor counted under his breath. Sypha gave him a careful glance; she did not suspect him to notice as many things, being in a drunk haze and all that. But Trevor's eyes noticed, and he felt very real pangs of guilt tearing at his chest. Maybe if they had been here, their friend would not fall prey to this unknown attacker, clever enough to actually catch him in silver snares and mangling him into that aloof state of distrust and coldness.
"He hasn't been feeding, eating, sleeping too, I guess" Sypha said. "I tried to ask him how long he has been running as a wolf, but he wouldn't tell me."
"Maybe it's easier for him to be a wolf now."
Trevor straightened on his chair and winced in a painful grimace, as his wounds, bones and muscles protested angrily. He needed a drink.
"Trevor, we'll make it right. He needs us, but we're no good to him the way we are now. You especially. How are you feeling?" she asked gently, laying a warm hand on top of his. He gave her a tired look.
"I will be alright, Sypha. I have been worse."
Sypha took a sip of her tea. "Well, I wouldn't be so sure. It's not everyday you were outnumbered and forced to fight against demons from actual hell, and a soul-sucking horror of a beast, several times over. I'm worried about you. This fight… if something was to happen to you, I would…" Her voice wavered, and Trevor immediately caught her hand in his.
"Whoah, shush, Sypha. Shush. We're here, ok? Nothing happened. I'm here. I'm still standing. You won't be rid of me so easily now that you tamed your brain damaged bear and took him to bed. You can imagine I will want to stick around for more of that." She smiled at this and gave him a tender look, and he smiled back.
"You joke, but it's serious. And I couldn't even tend to your shoulder properly, I feel so useless."
"It's only thanks to you that we are alive, Sypha. You had my back. If I was alone there, that would be it."
She lifted a tender hand to his cheek and stroked the bearded face. Trevor smiled and braced himself to get up.
"I'll tell you what, if you would help me bathe first, because, well... even for me it's becoming a bit uncomfortable, then I'm going to ask Alucard to take a look at my shoulder and if it will make you feel better, I'm quite willing to spend the rest of my day in bed. I could, in theory, try to talk to him. You know, some male bonding, bro talk and whatnot. What do you say?"
Sypha laughed briefly and gave him a happier smile. "I could live with that," she said. "Let's get you upstairs. Come on."
She helped him to stand, sneaking a helping hand around his middle to assist if he needed her to, and they slowly made their way up to the bedroom they have stayed in previously, after the battle with Dracula.
/*/
The baths adjacent to their chamber were already filled with heat and steam. Alucard was busying himself around the room, while water was pouring into the marble basin in the floor; he opened a window to let in some fresh air, opened the curtains, changed the linen on the big four-poster bed. When Sypha brought in Trevor, Adrian let her do all the job as she saw fit; she took off Trevor's shoes, his clothes down to the bandages and wrappings, and led him to the bathroom. Trevor seemed a little absent, squinting his eyes and taking in laboured, strained breaths that Alucard could easily hear. He was in pain.
Small wonder. The gallery of bruises, hemorrhages, cuts and minor wounds spread itself all over his back, chest, abdomen, legs. An impressive, purple bruise on his shin, a reddish stain of subdermal bleeding all over his right biceps. The dressings covered his neck and shoulder completely and more of them was wrapped tightly around his ribcage.
"I'll bring you some more things while you're taking a bath," Alucard said quietly to Sypha, who smiled at him and nodded. "There is everything you need in there. Don't apply any dressings later, I would like to do it, if you let me," he offered.
"Okay then," Trevor grunted. "Won't be long."
Regardless of his assurances the bath did take a while. Warm water made wonders for his sore muscles and aching bones, but due to the injury he sustained back in Lindenfeld, Trevor couldn't lift his left hand more than a couple of inches, so Sypha had to step in to wash his hair, upper body and his back. She lathered him up gently as he was sitting in the pool and kept whispering something, either small reassurances or something peppery, because once or twice he smiled foolishly and blushed. Alucard could not believe it. Blushing Trevor. Unbelievable.
He felt like an intruder again, like the fifth wheel, and he could only wait in uncomfortable silence as she was working. Sypha's hands moved quickly and unashamedly, knowing their way around Trevor's body. Alucard turned away not to look, but images appeared in front of his eyes by their own volition. He shook his head. He tried not to think about the intimacy they were sharing, about her nimble fingers washing his back and his broad shoulders; her hands dancing over his skin, disappearing in his hair, dipping down into the water to scrub his thighs. Brushing against his abdomen.
Enough, Alucard thought, enough. Don't look. Why do you even look, get a grip. Move. Do something. Be useful.
Don't disturb them.
He busied himself with thinking about medical supplies and things he had brought. Is it all he would need, is it enough? His mother's study stood mostly abandoned all this time, and was miraculously untouched by the rabid fighting that had taken place. Alucard was able to find everything he suspected he will need and brought it here with him, like he had seen his mother do it, in a big leather bag with compartments.
He heard laughter behind him. Real, sincere laughter; Sypha was laughing at something Trevor did or said and was protesting loudly at him splashing water over her. The sound was ringing in his ears, as it was so unusual in the dark and broody castle that it sounded tragically out of place; Alucard dared to turn around and glance towards the bath entrance, he heard her calling Belmont a dimwit and ordering him to get out of the tub.
Soon they emerged from the bathroom, Sypha propping wet Trevor up and leading him to the bed. He was loosely wrapped in a big white sheet around his waist. Once he sat, Sypha took a smaller towel and dried his hair with tender, patient, deliberate movements.
"That's quite enough… Sypha… I'm not a child" he muttered, his head rocking with her movements. He glanced at her from under the towel, giving her a look that could only be classified as bedroom eyes. She smirked knowingly and huffed through the nose, leaving the towel tangled up on his head.
She turned to pick up the dirty clothes from the floor.
"I'll go help Ksenia now, if that's alright", she told Alucard. "Unless you need any help?"
He shook his head. She whispered a small 'thank you' with a smile and left, closing the door behind her. Alucard looked at Trevor. He got rid of the towel from his head and was scrunching it up in his hands. The gash on his shoulder looked terrible.
Alucard sighed.
"You don't have a single healthy spot on your body. It's like someone has been methodically beating the shit out of you, inch by inch, with a metal rod."
"Close enough, it sure feels like it," Trevor muttered. " The shoulder is the worst."
The dhampir came closer and took a closer look at the gash. It was stitched, but sloppily, and the edges of the wound did not meet anyway. The whole area was bright red and hot to the touch; Alucard could see remnants of the insufficiently rinsed green pulp he has seen somewhere already, and he grimaced.
"Was that the woman's doing?"
"No, that would be a ten feet tall, six-winged demon with a bardish," Trevor scoffed.
Alucard rolled his eyes. "The sutures, Belmont."
"Ah. No. That was Sypha."
Trevor shot Alucard a cocky grin, but the dhampir could tell how uncomfortable he really was. He was perspiring in sticky, cold sweat, his pupils were slightly dilated, his breath hitching and frequent, his heart rate rapid. Alucard quickly calculated in his head a proper dose of antibiotics he should administer, accounting for Trevor's body weight. He touched the shoulder delicately, but Trevor flinched with a surprised gasp.
"Your fingers are SO cold," he complained. "Like Sypha's feet, only worse."
"Trevor. Stop fooling around." Alucard looked at him somberly. "You're just… It's fucking serious. What the hell happened in Lindenfeld?"
Silence befell the bedroom. Trevor stopped smiling, dropped his facade and sighed shakily. Alucard could hear the strain in his breath, as he tried not to expand his ribcage too much.
"Okay, I'll tell you everything, but first - do you, by God's mercy, have some booze?"
Alucard snorted angrily and moved away from Trevor to rummage through his bag.
"Alcohol is a very weak and inefficient painkiller, all things considered," he said. "Also, the amount of side effects is simply not worth it on the long run. I'll give you something proper. In addition, you are going to need a decent dose of antiseptic medicines, both on the wound surface and orally".
Trevor made a face.
"Just focus on the painkillers, instead of daydreaming of oral activities. I'm literally dying here," he said. Alucard closed his eyes and shook his head, thinking of why he even bothered. The look he gave Trevor over his shoulder was incredulous. "What?" Trevor laughed. "I have to check if you're still in there, you princeling vampire bastard."
Alucard stood perfectly still above the leather suitcase.
"Are you…?" Trevor asked quietly, a note of anxiety creeping up his voice.
Alucard stood still for a moment, then gave him a sly look over his shoulder, lifting up a metal syringe and waving it in the air nonchalantly.
"Let's find out, shall we?" he said with an almost imperceptible twitch of his eyebrows.
Trevor actually frowned at the sight of the strange object, not sure for a while if the dhampir is serious or not, and Alucard smiled minutely, but this time for real.
"It's a syringe, calm down; I won't stick it up your ass, Belmont" he said, taking a couple of small bottles out of the bag and coming closer to the bed again.
"Yes! You're still in there, thank God you're still in there," Trevor laughed a bit too enthusiastic, as he winced suddenly and wrapped his right hand around his middle to steady his ribs on an instinct. "Oh, my fucking God. Aw. So what the hell is that for?"
"I will give you an injection to your shoulder. It will help with the pain and the swelling. I'm sorry, but I have to take out all of those stitches and just... do everything anew," Alucard said.
"Fantastic. Shit," Trevor went visibly pale. "Goddamn it. What do you have there?"
"Laudanum." Alucard poured a carefully measured dose of the drug to a small glass.
"Fuck. Give me all of it," he asked.
"Like hell I would. You can overdose this and never wake up. So be careful, and try to drink it in one gulp, it's very bitter," he said and passed him the glass. Trevor downed it quickly and a series of disgusted sounds followed, as the medicine was, indeed, horrible.
"I will need to palpate your ribs; I'm not sure they're broken but they certainly give you trouble breathing," he said, going down on one knee and beckoning Trevor to sit straight. He gently run his fingers over the ribcage, feeling for any bone fractures; he found a couple of places he didn't like, but no broken bones. "I would like to hear your breathing. Take a breath, as deep as you possibly can." Trevor complied, even though the air threatened to go out of his lungs with a moan. Alucard seemed satisfied, though. "Luckily, no apparent fractures. The cracks in the bones are quite probable in a couple of places… but mostly it's just bad, deep bruising. It will heal by itself, if you take it easy. Let me bandage you."
Trevor was sitting still, trying to give Alucard better access. He made a quick work with a length of proper, elastically woven bandage, of pure white color, which seemed to hold Trevor's chest tighter than just strips of linen. Alucard made sure the compressive vest allows enough room for breathing and is not too uncomfortable, tied off the ends securely and moved to stand.
"That woman mentioned your back," he muttered. "And you do have bruises there the size of the Baltic basin. Do you feel pain in your spine? What happened exactly, were you squashed down under something?"
"No… a creature from hell tossed me into a solid wall with as much power is it could muster, and then I fell on the ground. From the height of, I don't know, twelve feet. I had a concussion, but it's mostly gone. I was spitting blood for a while."
"Was there blood in your piss?" Alucard asked matter-of-factly.
"Whoa, personal," Trevor scoffed. "...Yes."
"So your kidneys were damaged as well," Alucard sighed. "That is *not* good. Really not good."
"It's back to normal now, anyway."
There wasn't much Alucard could do for Trevor's spine, except for preparing special salves and ointments that would alleviate the bruising and bring some pain relief. He added a mental note to the list of medicines, though, to account for sustaining proper kidney function. He reached for the book with notes that his mother left behind, and went through all of the motions again. In a matter of minutes he prepared the metal syringe with some strange, yellowish liquid; he inhaled a couple of times, murmured something to himself, as if reciting the instruction, and brushed Trevor's wet hair out of the way, baring his shoulder. The gesture was surprisingly gentle. Trevor shot him a look.
"Sypha doesn't realize how severe are your injuries, right?" Alucard asked, positioning the needle.
Belmont raised his eyebrows, his eyes catching briefly on the metal instrument so close to his neck, and went back to Alucard. "I am discussing it with you, though."
Alucard hesitated. This act of trust felt uncomfortable and welcome in the same time.
"I'm… a little out of practice. This might sting." He said, cleaning the patch of skin with an alcohol infused cotton wad and lifting the syringe to make an injection.
"Don't worry about it." Trevor said. "Shoot away."
"This is a simple, short-term painkiller," Alucard explained, administering the shot as carefully as he could. "I'm doing it intramuscular, which means it does not enter your bloodstream, but acts locally. You should feel numbness, or dull throbbing, but no pain." Trevor winced a little when the needle was pulled out, but it was not entirely bad. Alucard's hands were steady now, not like during breakfast. "Now try to relax… do not clench your muscles. I'll be as quick as I can."
The dhampir went about pulling out the stitches. Once he did, and the sloppy threads did not hold the flesh anymore, he indeed could see quite deep into the wound, which started to bleed again and seep whitish liquid in a couple of places. He cleaned it thoroughly, applied several tinctures, removed any offending or suspicious pieces of tissue and proceeded to stitch it back together. Trevor was keeping still, but his face was tense.
"So… there's good news and bad news, Belmont."
"Will I be able to wield the whip?" Trevor asked, for the first time truly serious. His voice was unpleasant.
"...Yes, eventually. That's the good news, because the wound is not necessarily big, not wide, you see. So you don't have that much ligament, muscle or nerve damage. You were lucky, in many respects. But on the other hand, it is quite deep. The blade rested on the bone. Your clavicle is broken, that's why it hurts so much."
"Fuck my life," Trevor hissed. "So, what… six weeks without moving my arm?"
"May be more, actually," Alucard informed him coldly. "You have been putting strain on the arm, moving it, even fighting, from what I hear. So the tissue is torn, and the bones squashed. It will be healing slowly, you will experience stiffness, pain, and the bones may yet align badly, and accrete that way. So you cannot move that arm, doesn't matter what you do. Give it time. Give it rest. And after that, you will need physiotherapy."
"I will need what?"
"Physiotherapy. Slow, calm, and accurate exercises that will restore muscle density and strength, and keep the bones in their correct positions. This shoulder will also be more prone to injuries or traumas in the future."
Trevor sighed. "I won't lose ability to move, that's all that matters," he said in a bit more calm voice. Alucard was finishing the stitches.
He sprinkled the wound with a smelly liquid, applied a white paste on top of the wound and put the dressing on. Then the limb was properly positioned and tightly held in place with means of more bandage and an arm sling.
"You really shouldn't move it. I mean it." Alucard went back to his mother's notes, sitting next to Trevor on the bed. "Just… don't do anything with it until I figure out how to put the cast on it. I'm not sure I have gypsum here, we're going to have to figure something out."
Belmont smiled discreetly at the dhampir closing the distance between them; finally, the man thought. Up to this point he would sit far away from him and Sypha, find a place exactly opposite, or would stand tense and quiet, watching their movements, but now, as he was engrossed in the notes and focused on the task at hand he has dropped his guard. Trevor was glad, and a wave of relief washed over him as he realized that not everything is lost.
"I think that would be it for what I can see… You need to take some medicine, of course, to keep the infection at bay, and I would recommend bed regime for at least a week, but… you and I both know that's not gonna happen. You're not going to stay abed, that's for sure."
"I just might," Trevor said quietly. "I feel like shit."
"Is there any pain just now?" Alucard asked.
"Not as much as before. Manageable. Thank you, Adrian." Trevor looked the dhampir straight in the eye and only now Alucard realized how close together they are sitting.
Once this imaginary barrier of space has been breached, mostly by accident, he discovered he doesn't really mind that much. On the contrary, he could feel his loneliness and his own pain well up within him and Trevor's presence was like the only candle in an otherwise completely dark room, and once he was close to it, he couldn't imagine going back to the darkness for fear of everything that lurked in it. For a short while he felt like a small boy again, wandering endless halls of his father's castle in deafening silence in search for his parent.
"So can you tell me what happened in Lindenfeld?" he asked a bit shakily, in a badly disguised attempt to force his mind to focus on something else.
"Can you tell me what happened here?" Trevor asked, looking intently at the garish, red wound on Alucard's wrist, which was clearly visible because he had rolled his sleeves up when working on the wound. Alucard pulled his sleeves down immediately. "Wounds left by silver cords, soaked in holy water and salt. I think I have seen the device in question in the depths of that stupid hole in the ground under my family mansion. And it doesn't want to heal, for some reason. Why, Alucard? For any other vampire, this might have been enough to kick the proverbial bucket, but for you? You're too strong for that. You have Dracula's strength and blood of your mother in your veins, which also protects you from the petty shit like salt. So why doesn't it heal, Alucard?"
The dhampir turned his face away. He wondered briefly at Trevor's perceptiveness and how little time he needed to figure all that out, but then, it was his field of expertise. He had half a mind to punch Trevor for being an intrusive prick, but a part of him wanted to know more about the vexing injuries, which were still causing him pain. Not that he treated them in any way; he didn't try out any salve or bandage, stubbornly waiting for them to close on their own. It was irrational, he knew. He couldn't exactly understand why would he want to continue with this line of conversation, either.
Trevor did not hurry him up.
"I'm not... entirely sure. I suppose I would have to feed… to replenish some strength for it to heal properly, but it doesn't explain it… entirely." Alucard said finally, giving out a shaky exhale.
"You haven't been feeding at all?" Trevor asked. Alucard was surprised to hear genuine concern under the raspy, grumpy tone of his voice.
"...Some," he said reluctantly. "Mostly on animal blood."
"That is not enough to heal you. And it somehow feels wrong. Like you eating scraps or something."
"Well, I didn't exactly get any human guests." Alucard hissed.
"Oh, there were two guests. It was them who did that to you." Trevor shook his head. "How on earth did they get so close to bind you in silver cords? Why were they scavenging Belmont Hold? You didn't see them coming? Were they that good?
"Just... shut it, Belmont." Alucard made a move as if he wanted to get up, but he didn't. "Too many questions."
"Just one. What happened?"
Trevor's eyes were concerned. Foggy and dilated with the medicines, but gentle.
Alucard relented, not believing himself.
"These two came here from afar. They were searching for me especially. Anti-Dracula, they called me. They wanted to learn, to train, for me to teach them how to become better vampire hunters. They had a plan to go back to their country and free it from slavery. Tyranny which one of Dracula's generals wrought about the land. Cho, they called her."
Trevor frowned. "Wasn't she here, when Dracula summoned his forces?"
"Yes. This is when they managed to escape. They said they learned to track the castle in some way, and they have come here to kill Cho. But they found she is already dead, and instead of revenge they wanted me to instruct them. To help them. They said they needed… a friend."
"And you… agreed?" Trevor asked, his voice careful.
"I let them in," Alucard said slowly, staring at some faraway point in the room. "I gave them access to the libraries, to the castle laboratories, to Belmont Hold. I was teaching them. We trained together. They… I allowed them to live here in the castle."
"Shit, Adrian," Trevor groaned. "You stupid, naive bastard. They turned on you when you weren't expecting it."
Alucard didn't respond for a longer while, rubbing his brow with a shaky, unhealthy white hand.
"I let my guard down. I just…" he sighed. Couldn't bring himself to finish, nor to tell the whole truth.
"You didn't think their vampire hunting would include you as well," Trevor finished for him. He could feel a bitter, tight grip of shame and guilt at the back of his throat as he realized that Alucard chose to trust those humans based on his experience with him and Sypha, and was cruelly disenchanted as the two hunters didn't necessarily consider him human enough to let him live. Humanity once again proved Dracula right. As the thought of the vampire overlord appeared in Trevor's head, it was immediately followed by a thought of Alucard's mother, who was also betrayed and killed mercilessly by the same human race, and Trevor wondered bitterly just how much capacity Alucard has left for such silly concepts as compassion or forgiveness. If any at all.
"No wonder you were pissed." he said finally, hoping to put a lid on all of it and move on.
It was a wrong thing to say.
Alucard hissed as if burned, got up from the bed angrily and started pacing.
"That's it? That's what you have to say, Belmont? 'No wonder you were pissed'?" Alucard sneered. "You're not going to comment upon the two bodies put on stakes in front of my home, you're not going to confront me about it? Punish me by calling me a monster, like father, like son? What's the matter with you, Belmont!" the dhampir bared his fangs in unabashed threat and in two steps was back next to the bed again to give Trevor a hostile look from the above. The man drew back slightly at the flash of red around his irises, but met the challenge in Alucard's eyes calmly.
"Stop, would you? Just stop."
"Stop what?!"
"Stop *that*! Stop trying to convince me that you went rabid, that you are somehow dangerous to me and Sypha!" Trevor said with sudden agitation. "Stop trying to force the notion that you are like daddy dearest now, all of a sudden. I know you're not. You've proven that several times over. I trusted you with my life, you are my friend and I have come back home to you. These are the only words you are going to hear from me on the matter, do you understand?"
Alucard balled his hands into fists, looking at Trevor with mutiny in his eyes. The hunter's look was determined, challenging even, and Adrian felt tempted to argue more, but realized it wouldn't really help his case.. And yet, it was somehow too easy, to be forgiven so easily, to be just excused for what he did without any repercussions whatsoever. Was Trevor that tired? Did he think he would lose to Alucard in his state if it came to a fight, and backed off on purpose? Did he not care? Or was he in denial, refusing to acknowledge what Alucard did?
"Do. you. understand me?" Trevor repeated, still scowling. "I need to know we are on the same page here, because if I hear any more of your batshit logic and self-pity, screw that collarbone I AM going to trash you!"
Alucard's jaws were clenched too tight to speak. Suddenly he couldn't endure that determined stare any longer. Why would he really want to refuse forgiveness or acceptance? What did he really want, what was he doing? He avoided Trevor's eyes, shifted his position. They were silent for a moment, Alucard trying to calm himself with deep breaths and introspecting desperately, Trevor pressing his right hand over his middle, as his ribs did not appreciate the outburst and subsequent yelling.
Relenting finally, Alucard sighed and went back to the leather case to prepare necessary medicine; after a while of rummaging through the contents of the bag and mixing powders he came back to the bed and set the prepared drugs gingerly on the nightstand. Trevor rubbed his brow tiredly, took a shaky breath.
"Look, you killed them because they tried to kill you - you were defending yourself. I figured out this much myself. You made them into scarecrows because you didn't want any other visitors. Could have been less gross about it, but hey. You do you. You're not exactly a blushing maiden. Or," Trevor's tone suddenly switched into a serious note, "...or, you're not telling me everything."
The hunter scowled at him again, and Alucard couldn't hide a sting of unease. Could he tell? Was there any tell-tale sign in his behaviour or was it something else? Adrian tensed up visibly at the thought of having something giving him away, something betraying the shame he brought on himself, at the notion of his friends knowing what happened to him that night. What he allowed, what he *agreed* to happen to him. Trevor obviously misread the signs and backed off, suddenly defensive.
"But I won't push you into talking, I'm not Sypha. And no, you are not going to hear me judge you, not even banter or joke about it. Not this time. Not when it is mostly my fault that it ended this way," he offered.
"What is this gibberish now?" Alucard scoffed.
"It's because of what I said after Dracula died! Take the Hold, take the castle, make something out of it, be a fucking guardian! You took them in because in my infinite stupidity I convinced you to pass the knowledge on to next generations, and the only thing you ever wanted was to do good. And it blew up in your face."
Alucard suddenly wanted to laugh, but he didn't. He let his arms dangle defenselessly at his sides, the tension seeping out of him, leaving him strangely hollow. He felt a weird urge to sit next to Trevor again.
It occurred to Adrian that he is not prepared at all for this conversation. During the last week, whenever he had imagined his friends coming back to him - and he had been entertaining it in his head, as improbable, unforseen scenario as it seemed to be - these visions would only include rejection, disgust and horrified stares. He expected them both to simply run away or start fighting him, he expected hellfire and the whip. He would understand that reaction. He would be prepared to counter that.
He would bar the front door and seal the castle, or reciprocate with anger and fight, kick them out, maybe break a couple of Trevor's limbs for good measure. He would show them how much he had suffered at their departure, but he would also prove it pointless to try to be around him now and make up for it. But this? No revenge, no rebuke, this unfathomable acceptance of the blame as theirs? He felt confused, he felt disarmed.
"It's not because of what you had said." Alucard muttered finally, not knowing what else to say. It was an obvious lie and Trevor wasn't buying it.
"It's also because we were absent. Because you were left here, all alone."
The dhampir didn't answer. He just stared straight ahead.
"I… Adrian, these dolls you made… now this is fucking disturbing. That you would feel like you needed to do this."
You have no idea, Alucard thought bitterly recalling other things he had done because of his loneliness. Images came again, images of two suntanned bodies draped over him, wriggling against his skin, probing and touching. He flinched in disgust and turned his head away; Trevor read it wrong again.
"I am… I am sorry we left," he said softly, very quietly, and for a while there Alucard was not sure if he really said it or if it was just his imagination. "I wish we never left."
There it was. Alucard's breath hitched and left his body altogether in a long, sad sigh; he wished they have never left either. He felt the urge to lie down, as sudden feebleness took hold of his limbs and his head started to spin, or to cry, because something was choking him deep within his chest. The hand which he brought to his face was visibly shaking.
"Listen, you need to lie down and get some rest," he said in a voice which was breaking and there was nothing he could do about it any longer. "I will check on you later. Now I just… I have to go."
Adrian spun on his heel and went out of the room quickly, leaving everything behind, the bag, the book with his mother's notes and all of the utensils in disarray. It was unlike him, but he just wanted to put as much distance between himself and Trevor as physically possible, as tears were stinging in his eyes and threatened to spill free. He passed the empty corridor quick like a ghost, turned left to run down the stairs and to just be out, out, out of here, to turn into a wolf and just run, run until he is tired and spent and doesn't think about his friends or that they left him or anything stupid he has done in their absence, not to think about those hands on his body, hands in his hair, kisses pressed hotly to his neck, chest and thighs, and a sharp, icy, yet burning pain in the wounds that were wrapped around his body.
He got out finally, pushing the huge door open just enough to squeeze through them, and keeping his head as low as possible not to see the two decaying, stinking carcasses impaled obscenely on both sides of the staircase he turned into his wolf form.
Just in time, before red tears of blood fell in heavy, thick droplets from his eyes.
/*/
It was late, very late in the evening when Alucard decided that he is drained enough to be able to come back to the castle. A wicked run through the trees and bushes exhausted him, the cold wind tearing at his fur allowed the emotional pain to be blown away with it and the unfazed, purely biological rhythm of the natural world, where the animals and vegetation would go about their lives as usual, calmed him down enough to accept the concept of facing some human interaction again this evening. He couldn't bring himself to walk through the front door again, though. He couldn't bear the thought of *them* being there. Flanking the entrance.
Waiting for him.
He settled for one of the back entrances, the domestic quarters of the castle, not so pompous and clearly added to the structure to make it feel a bit like home. It was done back in the day when Alucard's mother was still alive. The dhampir focused his will and in a split second his wolf form retracted, diminished, leaving only an exhausted man standing on the ground near the stone fence encircling his improvised garden. He passed his flowerbeds, his vegetable patch, and headed towards the small, wooden door to the kitchen. The only space in the huge castle which felt somewhat safe and a little bit homely.
Alucard could see the light coming from the windows; the fire was clearly on, someone must have been there. He chanced the thought that it might be Sypha, but as soon as he heard a voice he knew it wasn't hers. The voice was singing quietly a slow, wistful melody, in a strange language he did not quite recognize.
He reached for the doorknob mechanically, his body moved on its own. He did not look forward to any talking, but he needed some warmth and maybe something to drink; he felt tired, spent, human even, and recognized the fatigue as first bodily symptoms of thirst. He would need to consume some blood, and soon, if he wanted to avoid real craving.
The person occupying the kitchen was Ksenia. She was sitting close to the stove, using the fire as a source of light, hunched over some needlework on her lap. She was so preoccupied that she even didn't notice Alucard enter the kitchen; she kept singing that strange melody, full of longing and nostalgia, and for a second there Adrian swayed, because the similarity between what he saw and how he remembered his own mother was almost painful.
Pain again. Is being with people only going to be painful…? Even if it is something good…?
Ksenia heard a decisive click of the door being closed and tossed her head up, stopping the song abruptly. She took in Adrian's disheveled appearance and froze with a needle in mid-air; her face shrunk as she saw his dull eyes with tired circles underneath, the matted, knotted curtain of hair with loose straws in it, dirty coat drenched with fog and evening dew. She put the garment she was repairing down on the table and pulled a second chair closer to the fire.
"Sit down, please," she said, "you are on your last legs. And give me that coat."
She moved in to take the wet coat off of Adrian's shoulders and to his own surprise he just didn't react and let her do it. She flicked it in the air to remove the water and hung it over another chair to dry; Alucard moved towards the fireplace, welcoming the warmth, making a dispirited note to self that feeling cold and being less resistant to the elements in general is just one more of those irritating little things caused by his need for blood. He sighed as he sat down and rested his elbows on his knees, staring into the fire.
A woolen blanket was draped around his shoulders and a mug of warm, greenish liquid pressed into his hands.
"What do you think you're doing?" he asked quietly, tilting his head to look at the woman. Ksenia hesitated, her face full of genuine concern and a little bit of hurt, but after a short moment of uncertainty she just returned to her own chair and picked up the needle.
"Nothing, I guess," she said sadly. "I didn't mean to upset you."
Alucard turned his face away. He noticed there is a big pile of neatly folded clothing and other textiles laying on the table and on some of the worktops of kitchen cabinets; even now Ksenia was repairing Sypha's blue Speaker outer robe. Alucard could notice a lot of patches on freshly washed bed rolls, darned stockings and sweaters, and probably all of Trevor's tunics and shirts. The man was such a slob.
"You did all of this yourself in one evening?" he asked.
"Sypha helped me with the washing, " Ksenia answered. "She showed me how to use the tap and where to dispose of the water. It's amazing, really. Those pipes… and all of this engineering." She lifted the robe and pulled at the fabric to see something better. "Would you like to eat something? You skipped breakfast, lunch and dinner. You must be starving."
"I am not hungry."
The log in the fire toppled over with a pleasant, crackly noise. Alucard stared into the depths of his mug. He could smell nettle, linden leaves and camomile. He took a sip and a lovely warmth spread through his parched throat as he did so; the tea was slightly sweet and not at all unpleasant.
"So how is Trevor's shoulder?" Ksenia asked after a while.
"Not great," Alucard answered. "He may yet be alright if he doesn't do something stupid. He needs to give it time to heal. But the wound is deep. The stitching was… hah, I thought it was you, but I see you have a knack for it," Adrian smirked.
Ksenia chanced a small smile.
"I would take those sutures out as well, if that was possible on the road, but I was afraid I will only make it worse or allow for an infection to settle," she said naturally, still focused on her repair. "Well, I'm glad you could provide him with some real help. He needed proper medicine, not something I could whip up from the herbs found in a ditch." She put the needle down and started folding the robe into a neat square. She put it aside and reached for the wicker basket on the floor, where a couple more items waited for her attention. Alucard was following her movements lazily with his golden eyes.
"Is that every single piece of clothing they had?" he asked.
"More or less," she smiled. "Don't worry, I'm finishing very soon. I'll just quickly do this one, as it's small… the rest will have to wait for tomorrow morning." She gave Alucard a calming look, as if she wanted to soothe some untold worry or a pretense he might have had. "I will be gone in a minute, I remember I am to spend the night at the camp."
"It's not like…"
"Oh please, you truly do not need to explain yourself," she interrupted. "I understand. And it's fine." She moved to rub at the nape of her neck, strained after so long time in one position. "I *need* to get some decent fabric, you know. I am not sure how to go around it. But there is no place nearby I could possibly get it from... Tough luck."
"What do you need fabric for?" Alucard asked.
"I wanted to make something for myself," she said, still rubbing her neck. "Trevor stole these clothes for me, but I don't have any other change. I suppose I will have to borrow something from Sypha for the time being."
She returned to the garment on her lap, assessing the damage. Absentmindedly, she started to hum again in the process of threading the needle and settling down to repair a tear at the seam of the white camisole.
It was almost peaceful. Warm, quiet, and peaceful.
"There probably are…" Alucard started, but his voice came out raspy and hoarse, and he couldn't believe himself for saying it - but then, he has already opened his mouth to speak, and it really was a simple thing. She needed clothes. As easy as that. "...I think there are a couple of dresses I could simply give you. I don't have any use for them."
Ksenia shot him a tense, disbelieving look.
"Dresses…?" she asked.
He cleared his throat. "Yes. My mother's."
Ksenia took a deep breath and shook her head seriously.
"Alucard, thank you for the thought, but I believe this would just be very, very uncomfortable for both of us. So thank you, I'll pass. But," she lifted a finger with a victorious smirk, "maybe there are some curtains I could salvage?"
That finally elicited a small, tired smile from the dhampir. "There are centuries of dust and mold on any given curtains in this castle, so I doubt you could have any use of them," he said.
"I could always introduce said curtains to the mysteries of hot water and soap," Ksenia smiled back.
"True, you could. You are very good at this, you know. Running a household. Cooking, sewing. Whatnot."
"Thank you," she said with a nod, still working on the hole in Sypha's camisole. "Well, I grew up on the countryside. I learned fairly quickly. My mother died when I was only seven, and somebody had to take care of my father. He wasn't really in a condition to do much, so… I gradually took over."
"You are Slavian, aren't you?" Alucard asked. "It's a gamble, I think I recognize the accent, but I'm not sure."
"Yes. Poland."
"Where exactly in the Kingdom of Poland?"
She hesitated; it was clear she wants to give him some coordinates, but nothing really came to her head. "You see, there were no bigger cities by which I might prompt you what region that was… we were calling the land Lasovia, from 'lasy", which means forests. Which means there was nothing but trees, really, in… sixty mile radius, maybe."
"Could you show me on a map?"
"I cannot read maps."
"That's not true. You can read, alright. The Inquisition does not persecute illiterate women."
There was a moment of silence between them; Ksenia didn't even flinch at the accusation, calmly continuing her work. Alucard took a gentle sip from his cup.
"What I meant is I have never seen a map before." She said slowly. "So I don't know if I can read it or not."
Alucard felt stupid all of a sudden. He knew that it is not strange nor surprising that he is not willing to trust a stranger and hasn't immediately warmed up to the weird guest with a questionable backstory, especially after events of late. He didn't intend to change this strategy. In the same time he expected to be confronted or questioned about it, as he supposed this would be upsetting to most. Ksenia, on the other hand, deliberately withheld from doing so, quietly agreeing to the boundaries he set or providing an explanation where he was ready to jump into conclusions. Moreover, the woman wasn't doing anything wrong. Her attitude and a sheer amount of work she would do just to make the situation of her new companions better was commendable. So Alucard couldn't help but feel stupid. And slightly annoyed.
"I'm sorry," he said quietly, angry that she forced him to it. Except that she didn't.
She gave him a long look. Took in his tired, puffy eyes and ashy complexion, the lovely flaxen hair that have lost all of their shine, falling down his shoulders in a knotted, unattended mess. She noted his tense posture, how he protectively wrapped his hands around his middle.
"Would you like some more tea?" she tried gently.
Silence.
"Yes, please."
She smiled at that, put the garment aside and stood up to reach for the teapot. Alucard was observing her stiffened foot as she moved, and noticed that she doesn't need a walking stick anymore.
"How's the leg?" he asked, holding up his mug.
"A bit better, I haven't been walking much today," she said casually and prepared a second mug for herself. "You know, I have been thinking… it's not that your kitchen lacks anything, no, it's perfect, and quite well-stocked at that, but… there is four of us now and the food is needed. Diversified food, to make up for all that dry goat meat nonsense they have been eating on the road. Sypha keeps feeling faint and weak, she complains at headaches and that her head is spinning. I think she exhausted herself past the limit."
"Most probably she has anemia," Alucard said. "I can smell there is something wrong with her blood."
Ksenia shot him a look. "...right. So I thought that meat would be a wise choice. Venison would be easy to get. I can try and shoot some quails, pigeons, preferably a couple of ducks. What do you think?"
"I think it's a must," Alucard agreed. "Leave the hunting to me. We can use the cellar for storage, it is quite cold, there is also a big ice box there and I have a whole bag of salt, so we can keep some for later. It's early spring; if we want more vegetables, there is still time to plant those."
"Do you have any seeds?"
"Yes. There is a wide selection in the outhouse."
"I can help you with those, then. I'll start on it tomorrow."
"Would be great. I'm not any good at this."
Ksenia smiled good-naturedly.
"You managed just fine, Alucard."
There was another moment of silence between them. Silence that he found oddly natural. It was not tense and heavy, like with Trevor before. Maybe not being very close or emotionally attached helped somehow, because it didn't call for making things right, or straining not to offend one another. It was what it was. Just a conversation.
"What are you even doing here in Wallachia? Poland is quite… far away. How did you get here?" Alucard asked, driven by curiosity.
Ksenia grimaced. She didn't answer, so he looked at her more intently straightening in the chair, waiting for whatever story she would give. She arched an eyebrow at him and shook her head.
"There are several packs of brigand warriors, horsemen or vagabonds travelling back and forth from the areas of Eastern Poland and Lithuania to various points in Europe," she offered grimly. "They make it their occupation to raid the small settlements, plunder for pelts, amber, grain; for cattle or horses… or people. To sell them later with great profit in bigger cities of the 'civilized world'."
"You… you were kidnapped, enslaved, and sold in Wallachia?"
Ksenia took a deeper breath, her lips still curled in an unpleasant grimace.
"In Budapest." she forced herself to say. "It is one of the reasons we are called slavs, are we not?" she asked in a sarcastic tone.
"It… is one of the etymologies, yes." Alucard hung his head. "So what happened to you later?"
Ksenia shifted impatiently on the chair, her grimace going deeper and her hands loosing the grip on the needle, which sneaked free of the short thread, fell to the floor with a small plunk and disappeared somewhere to the dark corners of the kitchen. She muttered a small 'kurwa mać ' under her breath and gathered her skirt to kneel and look for it, but Alucard's sight was far superior and he noticed the item very quickly. He stopped her calmly, reaching for the needle and passing it to her. As his fingers brushed hers, he realized she is avoiding his eyes and he decided he had prodded too far. She must have been quite self-conscious about her story, especially after what she blurted out in the stream in front of him, unaware of his true form. He wanted to apologize for the second time this evening, but she cleared her throat suddenly, raked her hand through her hair and gave him a small, tired smile.
"And what do you think happened to a fifteen year old girl sold on a slave market? Look, you do not really want to hear this story, and I do not care to recall it. Focus on yourself a little. You look ill, and we should probably call it a day, get some sleep. Unless you want me to prepare something for you. You cannot just refuse to eat altogether, half-vampire or not. You have your limits too, you know."
Alucard shook his head with a sigh, settling for ignoring the offer.
"Do you exist for the sole purpose of pleasing others?"
"No. But it is a decent thing to help."
She wasn't graced with an answer, as the dhampir just kept staring into the fire. Completely passive, he seemed to lose interest in her altogether, so she decided to wrap up quickly and re-threaded the needle for the last time to finish the last inch of the tear.
"You were singing before" Alucard spoke all of a sudden.
She nodded. "Yeah… just a silly thing to pass the time."
"Could you sing it once again?"
Ksenia looked at him. He kept observing the flames, wrapped up in the blanket. Absent. Sad. Fractured.
"Och, czyj to koń stoi," she started. "Splecioną ma grzywę. Pokochałem ci ja, pokochałem ci ja, przepiękną dziewczynę." (1)
He closed his eyes, leaning back in the chair, just listening to the steady, melancholic rhythm. His chest raised and fell with a deep, calming breath. His body seemed to relax a little, so she went ahead and kept singing over the last of her needlework.
"Nie tyle dziewczynę, co jej białe liczka. Podajże, dziewczyno, podajże, ma miła, rękę na konika."
"Dziewczyna podeszła, posłusznie dłoń dała, oj gdybym ja była, oj gdybym ja była, kochania nie znała… kochania nie znała."
Alucard kept his eyes closed. He was just so tired, but if he focused hard enough, if he made enough effort, he could trick his brain into thinking that it's not today, not this exact evening, not that woman sitting here, but someone else, someone he missed with every fiber of his being. If he just forced his tortured mind into compliance, he would believe for a short, blissful moment that it was not this voice, singing in a lower key and in an unfamiliar tongue, but the voice of his mother, humming gently over preparing a cake or drawing something in her sketchbook. If he just kept imagining her face. Her laughing eyes, a beautiful halo of golden locks crowning her head, small, impatient hands stirring the pot always a bit too hastily. If he just kept thinking about her. If he just listened, without opening his eyes, taking in the warmth of the fire and surroundings of the kitchen, where she used to bustle about so often. If he just tried hard enough… he could be safe again. He could feel like a boy again. It was almost like she would turn around with a smile and place a tender kiss on the top of his head.
"Kochania, kochania… z wieczora do rana… gdy słoneczko wzejdzie, gdy słoneczko wzejdzie, ostanę się sama… Gdy słoneczko wzejdzie, gdy słoneczko wzejdzie, ostanę się sama."
Ksenia finished her song and looked up, an a startled, loud cry escaped her as she saw bloody tears falling down Adrian's cheeks. His eyes flew open in an instant. Seeing her frightened expression and a wide-eyes stare pointed at his face he lifted both hands to his cheeks; he didn't realize the betrayal of his body until he felt wetness on his fingertips. In sudden anger he balled his hands into fists, smearing the blood on his hands and digging his fingernails onto the skin of his palms. He couldn't force himself to look at Ksenia.
"Oh my God," she whispered, shaken. "Tell me what can I do. How can I help you?..." she moved to put a hand on his shoulder and he shrugged it off violently.
"Get out," he hissed.
"Alucard, you need help, just tell me what to do," she tried to reason, but he stood up suddenly and the chair flew back, thrown with an angry force, to meet the wall and shatter into splinters.
"I said GET OUT!" he yelled, furious, and she just bolted for the exit.
The wooden door contacted hard with the wall, giving out a loud thud as she ran out of the kitchen, and all he could hear next was her sobbing and panicked, retreating footsteps in the deafening silence.
The white camisole was on the floor, left unfinished.
Alucard slid down to his knees; covering his face with his hands, he started to cry, in terrible, silent, body-shattering waves that would not stop.
(1) It's an old Ukrainian love ballad, which I transcribed into Polish. You can find it on You Tube if you type in the title, "Oj czyj to kiń stoit". Translation goes more or less like this: / Oh, whose that horse is over there / its mane is all tangled up / I fell in love, I fell in love with a beautiful girl. / Not so much in a girl, as in her image / Come girl, come dearest, give me a hand and sit on the horse with me. / The girl approaches / obediently gives her hand / it would be better, it would be better if I didn't know loving / Loving, tender loving from dusk till dawn / once the sun is up, once the sun is up / I'll be bereft of you.