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"Cursed sphere?"
Hank carefully squinted at the object on the table, which to Erik looked like a grey bowling ball minus the holes. So, that was in the package the vampire snatched in the town three days ago.
"What does it do? Except cursing anyone who touches it, which is a given," Raven maintained light conversational tone and at the same time was looking daggers at Charles.
"Raven, don't. I was careless, I admit it. But curses are designed for the living, have never affected me before, so you need to forgive me this little mistake."
"Whatever! How do we get rid of it?"
"Destroy the thing, what else," offered Alex.
"That's not optional," retorted Charles, "I still have to find a way to open it and retrieve what is inside."
"And that will be?"
Erik didn't stay long enough to hear the answer. He quietly closed the door behind himself and decided to follow Sean's example and go to bed. The sphere has evidently nothing to do with him. Of course, the news about the curse was distressing for no particular reason, well, it's not like Erik is just a tiny bit worried, no. He dragged himself in the shower and probably teleported to bed, because his memories of the day ended in the bathroom.
Fortunately, he did catch up on sleep this night and was ready to go to town. The kitchen was empty; the majority of house inhabitants have already left to pretend to study.
Morning coffee in silence was pure bliss.
The doors to the library, the usual vampire's lair were left ajar, Charles nowhere in sight. Maybe decided to meet sunrise again — darkly reflected Erik and then involuntary shuddered. Good mood evaporated in the air and the only thing he distinctly felt right now is the need to smash a face or two. He stepped in the corridor and nearly collided with the main subject of his speculations.
"Erik, good morning. Hope, you rested well."
"Ah, it's you," feigned nonchalance came easy to him, "Still dead?"
"As you can see," grinned the vampire as if Erik had somehow complemented him, "I'm going to collect some books from the library and join Hank in the laboratory. Care to come with me?"
"No, I need to go to town and check on that sorcerer's house."
"But you can't go alone," Charles anxiously stared him in the eyes.
It was pretty unsettling.
Think of his fangs, long sharp fangs aimed at your neck. Damn, why is it so hard?
"Let me come with you, or wait for Raven. No, it's too dangerous. If that demon appears again, someone might get hurt. I will come with you."
"Excuse me, what…"
The vampire didn't let him continue.
"Sure, you can't object to my presence. Strategically, you are at disadvantage if we speak about this hunt. The vampire is the strongest you've met so far, and he teamed up with the demon, the succubus and the sorcerer. You're skilled as a hunter, Erik, but admit that you won't manage it on your own. Logical, isn't it?"
Yes, it was — cruelly agreed his inner voice.
"I don't trust you," said Erik just for the sake of it.
The door bell echoed through corridor and Erik cringed. He should speak to Raven about the thing, it sounded like the moaning of perverted ghost.
"Erik, could you please go and open the door. This must be the acquaintance of mine. Oh dear, I expected her in the evening."
"Fine," grumbled Erik and quickly walked in the hall, then to the door.
He agreed to request because it was reasonable, that's all. The vampire would scare the person shitless if he burns to the ground thanks to sun.
"Hello, is Mr. Xavier home? Name's Moira, I'm his publishing agent. Nice to meet you."
The publishing agent stormed into the house with practiced ease, nearly stomping on his foot in the process. One of those who immediately feel themselves perfectly at home. Damn, women have no subtlety these days.
She confidently hurried down the left corridor to the room which Erik previously has never been in before. No wonder, the manor was huge.
"Charles, how've you been?"
"Wonderful, thank you. Yourself?"
"You know me, always busy," she righted the collar of her white shirt and pointedly looked at Erik.
"This is my friend, Erik. Erik, come join us," Charles ushered him in the armchair, next to the woman.
The room, reflected Erik, was a study, spacious like every room in the house. It was also the bastard child of the modern technology and outdated furniture. The numerous framed portraits on the walls watched his every move with reproach.
"You're shy," stated Moira.
And you're obnoxious, silently parried Erik.
Charles frowned at him.
Now, this is ridiculous. Is he reading my mind?
"Look to your right, Erik. When I first visited the place I caught sight of this picture. Don't you think that our Charles here is the spitting image of his great-great-grandfather? Put him in the period clothes and you won't tell them apart, right?"
Erik couldn't tear his eyes from the painting.
"Yes, absolutely true."
After that Moira paid him no attention — she was quickly talking to Charles, scribbling something in the note book and at the same time scrolling through news feed on her phone — the poster star for multitasking.
When she finally left, and Erik has seen her to the gate where she'd left the car, to make sure that she was out of the premises, the first question he asked upon returning to the study was:
"How old are you really?"
Charles didn't appear surprised.
"Twenty-four," second-guessing Erik's resentment he calmly continued, "I was twenty four when I was returning to my apartment that night," his smile grew rueful, "I should have listened to my fiancée, should have taken the cab, but alas, air has never seemed so wonderful and night was still young. I'll skip the gruesome details you're well aware of. Waking up in the coffin is the experience I'd rather not repeat."
Erik waited.
"Year 1852, if you're interested. Although, my ancestors moved to the continent a decade later. Unfortunately, the last heir to the name was shot about thirty years ago in the bar fight in New York, where he quite effectively wasted impressive amount of family money. Careful scheming and pulling at a few strings later, don't make that face, Erik, I defy violence whenever I can, I finally managed it. In short, that's how I returned myself the name, the title and everything in between. Also, that was necessary to legally adopt Raven."
"I've never heard something so improbable before," confessed Erik, "and, pray, tell me, how many did you kill to accomplish this."
The corners of Charles' lips dropped — he answered, albeit dully.
"None," he hesitated before his next words, "Please, hear me out, Erik. Believe it or not, but I understand what do you feel to the likes of me."
"No, you don't," deadpanned Erik and turned to leave; to think that he let the vampire sweet talk him into listening to all those tales.
"Erik, wait!"
He felt the grip just above his wrist and froze. What the hell? The vampire's touch didn't seem so cold this time, not at all helpfully supplied Erik's mind.
"Raven told me that I've got the room temperature. Fascinating, isn't it? It means the body always adjusts to natural conditions… Erik?"
"I said that one aloud?" slowly got out Erik.
This is not happening.
"Yes," sheepish smile reached the vampire's eyes and made them so very deeply blue.
Erik was raving mad, insane and definitely out of his mind, because he intertwined his fingers with Charles' and pulled him closer. The vampire went with the motion and timidly leaned in to Erik's chest, quiet gasp escaping those red lips, god, he only noticed it right now, the only indication of Charles' surprise.
Brain apparently short-circuited, Erik gave in and also leaned in the awkward embrace. They were arguing just a minute ago — and now he sort of hugs the vampire, because he, well, he wants to check if Charles can really be warm — for the sake of experiment, something to write down in the family tractate in the Vampires section.
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After all, Erik did stay in the house till the evening, and then the mission was delayed for one more day; meanwhile, Hank and Charles' combined efforts splinted the sphere in two parts, using some notorious dark magic, no less — Erik didn't catch a single word, Hank said it was Mesopotamian, the geek.
And, to make it crystal clear, nothing happened in the study. Period.
Only the vampire was disgustingly exuberant all the time — even Hank noticed and eyed Erik with wide eyes, coming to some perverse conclusion in that big head of his.
Erik grimaced, annoyed. He won't be judged by the werewolf.
The crashing sounds and numerous voices from the kitchen indicated that dinner was in full progress.
Erik checked his supply of knives — engraved with silver, especially painful for vampires, werewolves, but, unfortunately, not that harmful when it comes to neutralizing demons; okay, the sword was great but too flashy, the stake will do. He put the amulet on the neck; the pendant was retreated from the cursed sphere and meant to divert offensive magic. Erik made the vampire wear it at first, and then also discreetly tested it on Alex. It worked to his surprise and Charles' delight and was deemed safe by Hank. If he had it that night in the park, everything would've gone differently.
Together, they made it to the town suburbs in rather pleasant, non-irritating silence.
The house was no different from other cottages on the street. For one, it looked homey with plain white fence, wild roses adorning the lawn and an obligatory pair of ugly garden gnomes obediently perched on the porch. Erik parked the car across the street at the safe distance. He switched off engine and was in the process of opening the door then Charles looked up, startled.
"I thought we were going to wait outside and observe the perimeter. Is my phrasing correct, um, I'm not much into this hunting routine… By all means, the house can be a trap, so… Erik? Where are you going?"
"I'll go and find out if it's trap or not. I've already wasted enough time as it is. You may stay in the car," snapped Erik and angrily stormed out.
The key to the front door was hidden under the gnome. God bless all naïve fools.
Well, except one.
Erik glanced back when Charles didn't immediately follow him in.
He was awkwardly standing in the doorway, helplessly staring at Erik — evidently the two of them have almost forgotten about the no-entry-without-permission rule.
"I don't know," Erik knew that he was acting like a jerk, but couldn't help himself, "maybe I should leave you there."
"Erik, this is not funny," Charles sounded positively scandalized.
"It is," Erik grinned at him, "Look, I'll let you in on three conditions. First, you'll never ever…"
Finishing sentences was not on the cards for him tonight. Luckily enough, the dismayed look in Charles' eyes was enough to win him the crucial second when well familiar twin blades flashed before his eyes.
"Charles, come in!"
The force of the punch, courtesy of the vampire, sent demon reeling. Erik's rush forward to do in the red bastard ended with him beating the wind, since the demon had immediately teleported, leaving behind musty and acrid smell.
"Erik!"
Suddenly, Charles all but grabbed him by the lapels, lifted up with impressive ease and nearly rammed Erik's head onto the wall.
"You never do that again, you selfish man! Do you hear me!? You could have died…"
His grip weakened then and Erik slid down the wall completely numb, and, he won't be lying to himself and the sickening lump in his throat only confirmed that, a touch scared.
"Lord, Erik, forgive me…" the vampire crouched on the floor by his side, reaching for Erik, the remaining golden light into his eyes slowly giving way to blue, "It's harder to keep myself in check when I'm upset, I, sorry, so sorry, Erik, you probably don't want to listen to any of this. Let me help you!"
Getting to his feet, Erik firmly ignored the offered hand, and pulled out the dagger not the moment too soon. Charles dashed to the side, giving Erik the perfect chance to bury the blade in demon's chest. Shit, missed the heart. He was dodging the next strike when the sound of gun shots and sharp twinge of pain in his shoulder caught up with his mind.
Someone cried out as if in enormous pain and Erik admitted in passing that the voice sounded suspiciously like Charles'.
"Curious, how two bars of wood placed together effect our kind."
Erik's vision tilted when he tried to pull himself up, using uninjured hand to feel for leverage, but disobedient palm continued slipping on slickness and not cooperating at all.
Shaw is holding the cross — dumbly reflected Erik, uncalled curiosity winning momentary fight with dreadful fear. He is holding the cross to Charles' sprawled form on the floor, the infamous twin blades pinning his outstretched hands to the ground in the sick parody of crucifix. Shaw's trade mark — came frantic thought; exactly how he likes his victims to be displayed — mother, dear god, he's found his mother lying in the pool of blood just like that. Wave of sickness flooded Erik's mouth and he promptly threw up, painful heaving rocking his body.
Erik became aware of demon holding him by the throat, not that strong to break the neck but enough to make his chest spasm from the lack of air.
"Get him here, Azazel," Shaw tsked, impatient, and yanked out one of the blades keeping Charles' hand in place.
Charles half succeeded to stifle the cry. Now Erik was able to see the gunshot wound in the vampire's stomach, unbuttoned coat askew, blue fabric of his shirt dark with blood. Silver bullets, guessed Erik. Shaw had the gun with silver bullets because he knew what kind of company Erik will be in tonight.
"Emma and Janos are busy paying important visit to the new home you've found, we've got plenty of time to catch up. So unlike you, Erik."
Erik didn't know where did the strength to wrestle away from the demon's grip come. In the end, he didn't manage to get far.
There was a blinding burst of pain and then his head hit the ground, rendering Erik's whole world pitch black.
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