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The return to the world of living was slow; Erik, regaining only partial awareness, heard quiet voices in the room, and this time it was the room, not the basement, he was sure of it. The air was fresh and spoke of large spaces. He could smell the discreet flowery odor of expensive perfume. A woman? To his utter surprise, sheets were also crisp and fresh. Actually, Erik couldn't remember the last time he rested in the soft, comfortable bed. His car has been his home and stronghold for three years now, since the long-awaited day of graduation. He did promise his mother to get a decent education. She wanted him to live a normal life as well. That part of the promise will have to wait until he literally dusts Shaw, that is.
The clink of glass against wood signaled that someone's come to his bedside.
"I think, I shouldn't leave you alone. Who knows what he will be up to awake. Those hunters give me the creeps."
"Raven," the reply was exasperated and strangely affectionate, the owner of the voice — Erik stiffened and struggled to remain motionless — the same from the basement.
"… and besides they don't hurt your kind. The mark shall be given to those destined to became the incarnations of Nephilim to stand against the demons, the vampires and the forces of evil."
"Vampires! Exactly", hissed she in response, "And don't you dare quote this Rele… Relation on me anymore!"
"Elevation, Raven. The Book of Elevation which you were supposed to read ages ago."
"Whatever…" there was some rustling followed by hushed explanation, "Oh, come here, what's wrong with your hair today?"
"We're not changing the topic. And there's nothing wrong with it."
"Sure, Charles. When was the last time you looked in the mirror? Ouch, sorry…"
"Never mind, darling. Just go, Alex won't be waiting any longer."
Erik definitely heard snarling.
"Then I'll take another car. As if this is a problem! "
The door bang was loud enough to shook the foundations of the earth or raise the dead. Goddamn. Erik did his best to refrain from involuntary flinch. At least the door hasn't been locked.
"Excuse me, but you may open your eyes now. I know that you were awake long before Raven's little stunt, but nevertheless I apologize."
Erik grimly agreed with the voice, Charles, — she called him, and reluctantly obeyed, taking in his surroundings. The overall check started with high decorated ceiling, huge four poster bed — his body currently occupying hardly one fourth of the large space, heavy bottle green curtains safely preventing any sunrays from intruding. Rich wooden panels and vintage furniture reminded Erik of the posh hotel suit in New York where Shaw, that sleazy son of the bitch, stayed for the night. There's no need to add that Erik arrived too late that time.
Well, thinking about Shaw sharpened his senses and Erik finally snapped his gaze to the man at his bedside.
Pale, slim, average height, dark haired, and was that a structured messy look, courtesy of modern nightmarish fashion or, Erik watched in bewilderment as the man in question nervously run his fingers through heavy locks, or… just hand-combing. His eyes were unnaturally blue and in the artificial light looked almost frighteningly vivid.
"My name's Charles," he said with obvious accent and added in odd preposterous manner, the very reminder of the arrogant butler, "Welcome to my home and please be my guest."
All this time something was nagging at the back of Erik's mind, something he has realized from the very beginning and couldn't fathom. When he looked to his right and instantly spotted the small mirror, which adorned the wall, everything clicked.
Erik made a sound which might've been some sort of blasphemous growl and lunged forward. What was supposed to be a magnificent fluid motion turned into less dignified attempt to at least maintain proper footing, chest burning with abrupt pain.
Erik was no fool. Yes, he was almost naked, pajama pants and chest bandages notwithstanding, unarmed and injured but screw it; he's not going to let the vampire get him without a fight.
The heavy jar aimed at the fucker's head was dodged with lightning speed betraying inhuman reflexes. Fine, that was only a distraction. The back of the nearby chair so conveniently put next to his bed cracked in protest when Erik yanked out the wooden pole. There's nothing better than a good old stake to the heart.
"Erik, stop! Please, I mean you no harm, my friend. Besides, you're injured and it may be wise to get back to bed."
Erik seethed.
Not only the demon implies that Erik's stupid but also mocks him. The vampire was standing with his back to the window at safe distance and if Erik could somehow take down the curtains, the problem would immediately vanish. Literally.
Hmm, Erik stifled a pained gasp. Bloody hell, even standing hurt. In that case, he straightened his spine and acted like every single hunter was always taught to act. Like the one who runs shit.
"Who the fuck are you and what do you want?" growled Erik trying to maintain a stern expression, not a grimace of pain.
"Charles Xavier and we're in my house. You're Erik Lehnsherr, the hunter, judging by the tattoo on your forearm," Erik mentally slapped himself. Of course, the vampire would know. "And I'm sure, you'll be glad to hear it — Alex had found your car yesterday," he smiled and for a moment Erik could swear that he looked like he would blush which was crazy because vampires never did, "so, we took the liberty to look through some things, to identify the owner…"
"Tell me about it," snapped Erik. After all, he did like the car.
"We'd never…" indignantly protested the vampire.
Erik smirked, he didn't understand why, but provoking the monster was sort of fun. Also, this may be the last fun he gets while alive. The vampire seemed clueless but Erik knew that was probably a façade. With speed and strength of the demon and good healing factor, not mentioning often deceptive appearances, vampires would've been ultimate creatures of the dark — if not for vulnerabilities. Silver bullets, stakes to the heart, holy water to the eyes and the obligatory cross.
"You are a vampire," stated Erik the fact.
"I am," was response. "Though I defy the prejudices often misappropriated to my kind. So you see, that despite my umm… state, you, Erik, are a welcomed guest. You must be hungry, I can assist you to the kitchen or…"
"What?"
"Well, I can bring you something in here if you want."
"We're not changing the topic", Erik stuttered. Damn, he repeated after the vampire.
Erik's heard the noise from the corridor before he could react and soon the door was blocked by the bulky hairy creature. Werewolf, thought Erik. Great! Well, at least now he could safely say that the vampire was outnumbered.
"Charles?" growled the creature in quite comprehensible English, meekly clasping the paws together.
He had glasses and was blue. Blue werewolf in glasses. Erik needed some fresh air or a drink. Better both.
"Erik, are you alright?"
Vampire looked concerned which only added to vertigo in Erik's mind.
"Erm, Charles, I think you should go to the kitchen and bring a snack. I'll check the bandages."
"Okay," he beamed at werewolf and gestured to Erik. "Let me leave you for a moment. Hank is a competent young man; he'll treat your wounds."
Hank was indeed competent and by the looks of it knew what he was doing.
"Hey," started Erik when he was sure that vampire was too far to hear them,"What is this place? And what's happened to you? Is he keeping your family hostage?"
Either way, there has to be a reason for the sane being, even one covered in fur, to associate with vampire.
"Who? Charles?" there was a clear disbelief in Hank's voice. And the story Erik was told consisted of poorly glued lies.
So, the house indeed belongs to Charles. It belonged to Charles when he was still alive, not to a demon inhabiting Charles' body right now, mentally corrected Erik.
Hank didn't know Charles for long. He came to Westchester searching for cure two years ago. The magic is especially potent here due to the hellhole nearby, explained Hank. Apparently, something went wrong with the potion and he was left in the constant werewolf shape, luckily his human mind was intact. That's then he stumbled upon Charles and his adopted sister Raven. Charles offered him to stay here and since then Hank is occupying the basement. This time the eyes behind the glasses sparkled in delight. Charles knows a lot about magic himself and Hank's almost sure that with his help he'll find the cure.
Poor deluded fool — resumed Erik.
"But that doesn't explain how did you find me?"
Hank fiddled with his glasses — someone that big shouldn't be that nervous.
"Er, this is Raven's idea. We, sort of patrol the streets at night. Because, you know, there are not so many hunters to spare. And who in their right mind will agree to work straight on the hellhole."
"You know fairly a lot about my people."
"That's all that Logan told us. I swear!"
Logan? That asshole is still alive. Erik remembered the stories about the rough hunter always bringing trouble and mayhem everywhere he went. Out of all great seven families Logan was the last descendant of his line and so was Erik. Their kind didn't survive for long in places like Westchester. The postulate was – they didn't live long at all. The perks of the job.
Does it mean that Logan was here and alive and moreover — for some reason has spared the vampire.
The Brotherhood is in the dark or old geezers just don't give a damn, as usual.
"…we were trying to keep this a secret. Mainly from Charles, because Sean and Angel were afraid he'd be disappointed otherwise. It appears now that he understands us better than we presumed…"
Listening to the blubbering seven feet tall werewolf Erik realized a strange thing. This Hank and Raven from earlier must be very young, must be teenagers. That fueled his anger like nothing else, because for vampire to do this to children was ten times more god-awful than he previously imagined.
"Angel noticed a suspicious man in her neighborhood and followed him to the abandoned house they've kept you in. We moved out that night, Raven told Charles something about the party, but, I guess, he's already known and always followed behind. This time it was completely different, the vampire grabbed Angel and we didn't know what to do until Charles appeared. It was all a blur, so fast that when I smelled human in the basement I've darted forward and …I," he lowered the big burly head and murmured, "I lost control for a while. Charles said that was because of succubus… Her magic affects me better than others, so I…"
I'm neither a priest nor a shrink, grimly thought Erik. Why are you telling me this?
The voice deep inside whispered that Shaw is close, as close as he hasn't been in a lifetime.
All of this is not a simple coincidence: Shaw moving to the hellhole, Logan letting vampires live around in huge mansions, kids playing hunters after school. Somehow Erik grew in confidence that his quest for vengeance will end here, in Westchester.
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