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"What the fuck?"
Damn, Erik's sleep-induced brain didn't intend to catch on real world any time soon and maybe someone will care to tell him what the hell is going on.
"Logan…"
Charles' mumble sounded somewhere awfully close and, holy shit, Erik gulped, petrified, the gravity of situation hammering him all at once. Charles turned his head to the side, exposing long pale neck; the smaller cuts have been healed, absently noted Erik.
"Logan?!" now Charles has sounded exactly like Erik has felt, all poor deer caught in the highlights silently nodding along.
"Err, nice to see you, I guess," tried Charles and furiously whispered, "Erik, my friend, can you roll over or move aside a little, because Logan looks like he's going to murder someone…"
That's a darn good suggestion.
So, Erik consciously turned around to look at the infamous hunter and cruelly showed any remaining embarrassment away. Time to deal with things like spooning the vampire in the sleep, okay, technically sleeping on top of said vampire, will come later.
"…that's what I remember, anyway," caught he Charles' voice, "Basically, Erik has saved me so many times yesterday…"
"He doesn't look like a savior to me," Logan gave Erik a look-over and lit the cigar.
What a jerk! Erik, having wisely bitten his tongue, dignified him with no response, a touch stunned, because he honestly didn't expect Charles to stand up for him with something akin to devotion… No, no, Erik's hit his head too hard yesterday, hence the awkward hearing.
Good news — everyone in the mansion was fine, some scratches and bruises — nothing serious, the kids were tougher than they might appear. More than that, Logan was the one who came to their aid last night and distracted Shaw in time to let them escape. It means, the man with the crossbow is this burly, chunky… someone. Fucking Van Helsing, he could have shot Erik yesterday as well. And the crossbow? Ha, crossbow is for women.
Bad news — Shaw had disappeared, Logan said that he followed him and then he just evaporated. Called his demon cab, decided Erik, what else. Anyway, this Logan started looking for Erik and Charles, but Erik did a good job, like always, so he's managed to track them only now.
Alright, for now, that will do, but, Charles looked at him with naked concern in blue eyes and Erik grimly nodded in response. Some grand scheme was in motion and they had no fucking idea as yet.
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Three days of prescribed bed rest he spent in the library instead, dusty tomes and manuscripts forming a huge pile on his desk. Charles has joined him tonight on day four, somehow escaping Raven's excessive hmm, better put obsessive, cuddling and mild threats to tie him to bed in case he keeps 'being a stubborn dumbass'. The last one has made Erik flinch. As far as silent agreement went, they didn't tell anyone in the mansion what has happened that night, aside from the obvious — they fought Shaw and his demon; got injured; Erik, who immediately became the hero figure in everyone's eyes, all talk inspired by exuberant tales, — read Charles — got them out alive.
Erik was woken up by the crashing sound. He shut the book which was serving as the poor pillow regardless, and followed the rustling to the far corner, the most secured section, which he couldn't use even if he wanted to, all runes and signs resembling protolanguage. And who could, let's face the truth…
Charles was hunched on himself, hands protectively hugging his midsection, sitting on the floor, surrounded by the pile of books and looking more bewildered than actually hurt.
"May I call your attention to the fact that I'm not even asking what has happened," scoffed Erik, picking up one of the most tattered grimoires.
Charles softly chuckled and gestured at the books.
"I had a hunch, my friend," he carefully stood up, clutching the shelves for support, "My memory contains everything I've experienced, read, seen and so on. Retrieving the exact piece of information, though, can prove quite a tricky task. What if we were moving in the wrong direction from the beginning; I started questioning myself, but to no avail and then I remembered the legend..."
Erik collected all the books and strolled to the sofa, which he occupied since the very first day of his self-induced investigation. The desk was already a mess, so he put down his burden right there. Charles perched himself among the books and Erik returned to the memoirs of Magnus, who was a very formidable hunter in his time, specialized in vampires, and was famous for his one hundred and one way to kill a vampire, most of which were too meager and phantasmagoric for real life situations if you ask Erik. Nevertheless, the book was a success in estimated circles. Erik shook his head in disbelief. How do you trick a vampire into drinking holy water, for instance? Only by force and that would be sick if you already caught one and can just stab the creature. He looked up at Charles, who, it seemed, was simultaneously reading three different books positioned on his lap, and was stricken with a thought. Shaw also could have done that, could have made Charles experience the most excruciating pain and, Erik froze up, apprehension sucker-punching him in the gut — he cares, Erik genuinely cares about the well-being of the vampire.
"Erik," called Charles from the sofa, oblivious to inner turmoil Erik was going through, "I've found something."
Erik stood, and slowly approached him; the shock of his life, meanwhile, noticed Erik's expression and gasped:
"Erik, you're pale as death!"
"Look who's talking," automatically replied Erik with no real malice.
"Is your shoulder troubling you?"
No, you're troubling me. In fact, you've been doing it since the moment I first set eyes on you. Man, sardonically drawled his inner voice, you're in deep trouble, to put it extra politely.
"You'd better sit down! Erik, can you hear me? Here," glass clinked nearby and the rummer was forced into his unresisting fingers, "whiskey, no ice, sorry. Uhm, I was told that this is a good brand. Either way, it should help."
Erik took the sup of the offered drink and in consequence of his shocked state didn't wince when whiskey burned its way to his stomach. He sat on the sofa, refusing to meet Charles' eyes, and asked in a gruff voice:
"So, where's that legend you've been searching for?"
"You sure, you feel fine? I don't want to impose, but…"
For god's sake.
"Oh, just awesome," got out Erik in the painstaking effort to remain civil, except for the fact that, presumably, only presumably, mind that,
I may like you.
"Okay," Charles gently caressed the frontispiece, illustrations so old that Erik could hardly discern the outlines of the horned silhouette on the tawny surface.
"What's wrong with the paper?" griped Erik — anything to chase away dreadful realization.
"It's written on skin," calmly clarified Charles, "and you don't want to know further details, I dare assume."
"You're damn right."
"Well, this is the tale of the demon and the brave warrior."
"Those are all clichéd. They've been fighting for god knows how long, both got injured and at last the demon was defeated, but the warrior never made it back, and that's the only part which is realistic, and died from terrible wounds and got inheavened. Happy ending for all parties."
"You've grasped the main concept, my friend," Charles smiled, but continued in a humourless tone, "Despite, this time the demon's spirit was so strong that it could not be banished from the realm, demon's breath poisoned anyone who breathed in the stifling miasma, an awful metaphor, by the way. The demon's blood, though I'm not sure I interpret this one correctly, maybe, ah, never mind, unfortunately got mixed with the warrior's and the most powerful mages didn't manage to save the brave warrior. The mages died, sealing the demon's spirit in the above realm and the demon's body was split into seven pieces and hidden in the most ungodly hide below," Charles stuttered all of the sudden, "which is here, Erik, this is Westchester, the hellhole."
"And?" Erik didn't want to seem stupid, but Charles operated brain the size of this library. He could admit this, yes.
"And Shaw has found them, not all," Charles closed the book and grabbed another in haste, Erik noticed how his fingers were trembling, when he anxiously turned page after page, "those are not actual body parts, you realize, just objects which contain magical power. Aha, found it! The one assembling them all will prove immune to sacred symbols, fire, steel, magic, gain the ability to become invisible, foresee enemy's intentions and bring to heel the vassals of evil…"
Erik saw where this was leading.
"The one who brings them together will call the spirit of the ancient demon, it will descend in the vessel and wipe off the world," shit, it finally sank home and Erik fell silent.
"We may," Charles chewed on his lower lip, "have one here as well."
Erik followed the direction of his gaze and it struck him. The pendant. He touched warm metal through the fabric of his shit. Resilient to magic.
"I intended to give you protection," Charles switched to relentless mode without any warning.
Once again, Erik found himself captivated by his abrupt sharp disposition.
"Never knew that it'll work out like that, Erik."
"Forget it," Erik was carefully choosing next words, "We have one of… relics, but how many does he have?"
"At least two," Charles winced when he tried to stand up and Erik wound his arm round his waist without thinking.
"Thank you, my friend," Charles leaned against him, movement provoking the burst of pleasant warmth in Erik's stomach.
"The park," guessed Erik, "they've called the vampires in the park, which means number one is in his clutches. And number two is the ability to touch the cross and remain unharmed."
Charles nodded, thoughtful.
"Besides," he turned to look Erik in the eyes, "I can't but mention it, Erik, although it hurts me to do so. Someone might have told Shaw about us coming together, otherwise why bother with silver bullets and… other… you know."
Erik has been thinking about it for a while, that's why he was in the library alone, Charles notwithstanding. He refused Hank and Raven's attempts to help him for a reason. Again, no one can be trusted aside from the vampire. The best celestial joke ever.
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"What are you doing here, Lehnsherr?"
He knows my name, the jerk. Have probably vetted me from the very day I arrived.
"I want to talk."
Logan blew the cigar smoke right into his face.
Calm. Be calm and keep talking.
"Shaw is going to destroy the world," made Erik the first try.
Logan started laughing like a madman, which nearly threw Erik of balance.
"Why don't you say — I want to kill him for what he did to my mother, the sick bastard?" barked out Logan through laughter.
It put Erik's teeth on edge.
"How dare you," steel claws pressed to his throat in an instant, cutting off angry words.
"No, how dare you come here and demand something," claws pressed enough to draw blood, but Erik didn't back an inch, "The world? Fuck the world! Every hunter, if he's not a complete retard of course, which is a rare nowadays, knows what is worth fighting for. And I'll tell you the secret, fucker boy, — this is neither the world nor petty personal revenge."
"He's tortured Charles," breathed out Erik and Logan's eyes dangerously narrowed at that, "and he hates unfinished business, I know for sure. Basically, there's a traitor, but we still don't know who and…"
"Have you just said 'we'," smirked Logan and retracted the claws. The hidden mechanism? Erik wouldn't have noticed before it became too late.
"Yes," Erik was steadily holding his gaze.
"He called you a hero, huh?"
"I'm not," stuttered Erik, embarrassed all of the sudden.
"No, nobody is," mildly said Logan. "What have you brought?"
"Whiskey," Erik nodded to the bag at his feet.
"Cigars?"
"Yes."
"Charles told you to do this, right?" now he was laughing, but it was a different kind of laugh, Erik could tell.
"Why ask if you already know," seethed Erik. He was tired of playing good and humble.
"You're as dry as Sunday speech, but also amusing as hell," passed Logan a verdict.
"Come in, don't be shy," with this he disappeared in the depths of his poorly lit apartment.
Erik followed him to the kitchen, where the single glass was lonely standing on the table.
"This is for you," explained Logan and slugged down an impressive gulp straight from the bottle, "Help yourself, Lehnsherr. It's barely noon and I have an appointment at four. Lots of time on your hands. What do you want to start with?"
Right.
Here goes nothing.
"Tell me everything you know about vampires," he gulped, "about Charles."