Day 11
Asmodeus walked, more like stumbled, into the kitchen, looking like death warmed over. Looking up from the rest of his lunch, Draco inhaled sharply, wondering what was responsible for his pitiful state.
Asmodeus was exceedingly pale, slow and ungraceful in his movements, and his body seemed to weigh twice its normal weight. From the sitting room, the vampire entered, took one look at Asmodeus, and asked. "Did it work?"
Asmodeus nodded exhaustedly, slumping into a chair that the vampire had wandlessly summoned. "I swear, although I've had three showers already, I'm still itching all over."
The bark of laughter from the vampire startled Draco badly, but he tried to keep still to not draw any attention. They were talking about the bloodmagic ritual Asmodeus had been doing today since even before Draco had gotten up.
Ever since reading more about bloodmagic, Draco had found himself inordinately curious about it. Not curious enough to try it himself – it was too dangerous and too painful for his tastes, and some rituals demanded slitting one's arteries. He wasn't suicidal, thank you very much. But if somebody else was insane enough to do it…
Draco noted curiously that he couldn't see any injuries or cuts, just like the book had said. The magic settling into the skin after a correct ritual was supposed to heal all injuries, but Draco hadn't quite believed it. Now, seeing with his own eyes that there wasn't so much as a faint red line on Asmodeus' visible skin, Draco was in awe.
On the other hand, the rest of Asmodeus' state was more than pitiful. If Asmodeus looked that bad after a successful ritual, what would he have looked like if the ritual did not work?
"Hey, slave," the vampire called. Draco stopped himself from drawing a face; apparently he hadn't been forgotten. Just when he had thought he could excuse himself from the vampire's presence after lunch, focus had to fall back on him. "Get him some water."
Moving hastily to obey, he placed a tall glass in front of Asmodeus, trying to leave the kitchen. He'd had more than enough of the dark-haired vampire's company for the day.
Since the sparring room was right next to the ritual chamber, Silas had refused to let Draco practice in there as even the slightest disturbance could prove fatal to Asmodeus. That was what had actually clued Draco in that Asmodeus was performing the ritual right then.
The end result was Silas holing himself in in the potions lab to do some long overdue work, leaving Draco to the tender mercies of the black-haired vampire. By noon, Draco was at the end of his rope from a constant need to watch the vampire's every movement and remembering those lessons in 'slave etiquette', as the vampire had termed them. The word 'slave' left a more than bitter after-taste in his mouth, and he hated how the vampire constantly reminded him of his station. At least Asmodeus treated him – somewhat – normally, and Silas wasn't too bad, either.
Making lunch had been the first break he'd had all day, and he had hoped to escape to his room afterwards. But his scheme didn't work; the vampire snagged his arm abruptly and drew him closer. "I didn't dismiss you, did I? And remember lesson four. You seem to have some trouble with it, don't you?"
Biting his lower lip, Draco clenched his fist to not struggle, because that would make the punishment worse. Ever since they had come back the day before, the black haired vampire hadn't fed on him. Instead, the vampire had focused on wandless curses and intimidation by raw physical strength. Never enough to do any real damage, but certainly enough to hint that, if he wanted to, the vampire could do a lot worse to him. Draco didn't know what exactly was up with him and, of course, there always was the threat of the vampire indeed feeding on him again.
The sharp, bone-deep ache of the vampire squeezing his right forearm almost made him scream, but instead, he focused on Asmodeus, who was thirstily downing his water. With his free hand, the vampire refilled the glass with a careless wave of his wand.
After his second glass of water, Asmodeus' thirst seemed satisfied, and he wearily rose from his chair. "I think I'm going to sleep it off. I hope the two of you won't burn down the house while I'm not awake."
The vampire finally released Draco's arm, making him rotate his abused wrist carefully. Luckily, nothing seemed broken. Casting the bone-mending spell with his left hand would have been an … interesting experience. "Don't worry, Rahkesh. We will only flood it and then let the thestrals trample through the mud."
Asmodeus rolled his eyes and vanished upstairs, leaving Draco alone with the vampire once again.
"Come on, pet," the vampire purred into his ear, "we're going to have some fun."
Draco shuddered, trying not to back away fearfully from the vampire. Ever since the vampire had stopped drinking his blood, his sexual come-ons had gotten much stronger. And Draco had no illusions of what sex with a vampire would entail – if he got out of it with all of his limbs intact, it would be a miracle.
The vampire stalked after him, looming menacingly over Draco's slightly smaller frame. Yes, there were moments when Draco managed to forget the vampire's presence, or at least suppress his apprehension enough to act almost normally around him. But whenever the vampire put any effort in intimidating him, Draco couldn't help but react in nearly mindless fear.
Cold sweat broke out on Draco's skin, and terror rose in his throat. He had backed himself against a wall, not able to escape the vampire's attention. And the vampire knew it, smirking maliciously, and licked his lips. He leaned against the wall with one arm braced next to Draco's head, completely invading his personal space. Bending his head towards Draco's neck, the vampire started nibbling on Draco's skin, which sent icy shudders down his back.
"Hey, Daray," a sudden voice called from the hallway through the closed door, "do you know whether Rahkesh has any fresh Hawthorn bark?"
It seemed that Silas had decided to surface from the potions laboratory where he had secluded himself to conduct some experiments earlier that day. But, apparently, he was preoccupied with something else since he didn't come into the kitchen.
The vampire only lifted his head enough to not shout into Draco's ear. "How should I know? When did you see me last in the lab?"
"Yesterday!"
Draco had frozen against the wall to not draw any attention to himself. The vampire was still uncomfortably close, but fortunately focused elsewhere for the moment. "I was watching Rahkesh brew the potion for his ritual!"
"That's right, he's doing it right now. Is he done yet?"
The vampire rolled his eyes. "If you paid attention to anything besides your experiments, you'd have realized that he's been done for almost half an hour."
"Well, sorry," the indignant answer came back, "there are some of us who have better things to do than scaring poor, frightened mortals! Where is Rahkesh so that I can ask him myself?"
"Asleep, so keep it down!" Contrary to his words, the vampire didn't make any efforts to lower his voice while shouting through closed doors.
"You think Draco knows if there's any Hawthorn?" Silas' response wasn't noticeably quieter, but Draco felt a silencing ward go up. Those hours spent studying and cursing the wards on the sparring room hadn't been in vain; ever since he had begun to feel whenever wards were erected, and more than half of the time, his guess as to the type proved correct.
The vampire suddenly focused back on Draco and cocked an eyebrow at him. Trembling slightly from the close proximity, Draco couldn't do anything but shake his head. The vampire rolled his eyes. "No, you don't know, or no, there isn't any," he hissed.
Draco flinched back as far as he could, and stuttered. "R-Run out."
This time, the vampire smirked and didn't look away from Draco while he shouted back. "The mortal says there is none!"
A few colorful curses followed, together with a reply. "Can you get me some, because I've got to keep stirring and need it as soon as possible! I think I saw some bushes near the woods!"
With an irritated frown, the vampire looked into the direction of the potions laboratory as if he could see through the walls. "You should have thought of that before you started! It's raining outside!"
"You're not made from sugar! I thought there still was some left! And before you think of making Draco do it, he can't go outside Rahkesh's wards!"
"I'm not your handmaid!"
"Please?"
The vampire growled low in his throat. "Fine! But you owe me one!"
"Yes, yes, can you just get it?"
Shaking his head exasperatedly, the vampire focused back on Draco. "Wait here for me. I'm not done with you yet."
Draco nodded jerkily, swallowing in fear. Fate apparently had conspired to leave him hanging in uncertainty, with only a momentary respite from the vampire's advances. To reinforce his command, the vampire bared his teeth at Draco and growled dangerously before finally moving out of range. Without looking back, the Vampire left the cottage. Draco slumped against the wall, heart pounding furiously. Was this hell ever going to end?
"Draco?" Silas' voice came again. "If you're still there, can you please come and help me? I swear, two hands aren't enough sometimes…" His voice trailed off in undistinguishable mumbling, and Draco had to sympathize with him. There had been a reason why Snape had made them brew some potions in teams. That way, there were at least four hands to deal with all the chopping, cutting, stirring, and taking notes. And even then, Draco had sometimes wished for still another pair of hands.
Pushing himself away from the wall, he sighed. A quick wave of his wand later, all used dishes were clean again and flew back into the cupboards. He was tired, but helping Silas would give him a valid excuse for not waiting for the black haired vampire. And, so far, the dark vampire had never picked a direct fight with his lighter cousin. Perhaps he would yet leave this insane cottage with all his limbs attached and not traumatized beyond repair.
___________
It had taken Silas almost an hour to reach a point where his experiment could be left alone.
The dark haired vampire had sulkily brought a few handful of hawthorn bark, which Draco had immediately been told to shred. Draco still had no idea what exactly Silas had been trying to concoct; the only thing he knew for sure was that hawthorn bark had reacted quite violently with the greenish-purple sludge. The resulting explosion had almost destroyed the shield Silas had hastily erected above the cauldron. Luckily, the spell had held. Barely. Daray's only comment was that it had been fortunate they hadn't taken down the silencing ward from earlier because the noise certainly would have woken Asmodeus up. The rest of the hour had been spent cleaning up the mess and trying to stabilize the result so that it could be tested further.
In the end, Draco's robes had become dark from sweat, and Silas had finally put away the rest of the ingredients with an exhausted sigh. Even the dark haired vampire looked a little bit battered. In a mutual decision, they retreated to the sitting room, where a restless panther greeted them by pouncing on Silas. The dark haired vampire once again claimed 'his' couch, and Draco didn't even feel strange anymore about settling down on the ground next to him. It had become habit.
For some time everything was silent, and Silas' presence somehow reassured Draco enough to let himself slip into a light doze. It was later that a stack of flying papers came to rest in front of Silas who had summoned them. The dark haired vampire gave them a curious look, and Silas showed him the front page. From what Draco could read, it was something about courses and Akren. And it made the dark haired vampire sigh. "I'd better finish my list, too. Do you have a spare pen for me?"
Wordlessly, Silas handed over one of those muggle instruments. It had been quite a shock for Draco to see that Mariah's household was full of such small muggle things that, Draco had to admit, were just as functional as their wizarding equivalents.
Once again, everything became quiet except for the rustling of pens on paper, and Draco returned to his dozing. He woke up again when Asmodeus came into the sitting room and flopped down on the second chair. In Draco's opinion, he looked quite a bit better than earlier the day. Far less pale and exhausted, but apparently still not good enough for Silas.
"You don't look that well," the blond vampire commented after giving Asmodeus a critical stare. "There won't be any angry ancients after you, will there?"
At first, Asmodeus looked as confused as Draco felt, then he laughed. "No, everything went alright, so no reason for Namach to flip out. And I don't look that bad; we mortals can't heal everything by knocking back a few gallons of blood. You should have seen me after that piece for the poisons. Then I looked bad."
Draco stared at Asmodeus disbelievingly. To Draco, Asmodeus had looked half-dead three hours ago. What would constitute as worse in Asmodeus' opinion? He hadn't thought anyone could look that bad without any visible wounds.
"You still haven't given us your list for Akren," the dark haired vampire behind Draco said, nodding towards the papers on the coffee table.
Asmodeus took a look at them and then slammed his palm to his forehead. "I knew I forgot something." He summoned his own sheafs of paper, penning down a quick succession of words Draco couldn't make out from his position on the floor.
"So Rahkesh, classes?" Silas asked, folding his own list into an envelope.
"Marluck's extreme martial arts class…which I think Professor Ahmad co-teaches, intro to mind magic, second level healing class, and of course the double advanced bloodmagic/intro to necromancy." Asmodeus said, handing his list over. "Who's teaching that last? Namach, Xanthius, or Vaeryes?"
Wow. That kind of coursework was solely geared towards turning out a dark fighter. He shuddered at the thought of someone of Asmodeus' caliber being able to summon legions of the undead to help him. In his readings for bloodmagic, Draco had come across a few paragraphs about necromancy, and how it followed the same distinction as bloodmagic. He was quite certain that the Dark Lord was a white necromancer, judging by some of the comments he'd overheard. And Asmodeus was trying to become a necromancer, too. While Draco was almost sure that Asmodeus was going in the black direction, he couldn't help the small shudders of disgust running down his back.
Also, that teacher's name, Namach, he'd heard it somewhere before. Asmodeus had mentioned him a few times, but Draco thought he had read about him before. Now that he knew that Namach taught bloodmagic and necromancy, he knew where to look. Draco made a mental note to do some research later on.
"Namach I think. With help from Xanthius since it's a double class. It will be nice to get away from Vaeryes won't it?" the back-haired vampire said.
"Yes! Does he get along with anybody?"
"No." Silas said, "Daray?"
"Same classes actually. Though I have this feeling a lot of it will wind up being on my own. No one knows how I'll react to necromancy. You?"
Draco briefly wondered why; if necromancy could be standardized enough to teach in classes, there shouldn't be a reason for the vampire to react differently.
"Second level healing, intro to mind magic, extreme martial arts, potions, and that class they call Disguise and Deception, but which is actually the intro espionage class coupled with lessons for beginner con-artists."
Well, even if they hadn't said so themselves several times, Draco would by now be absolutely certain that the three of them went to Akren. From what he had read in Asmodeus' library, no other school offered espionage classes. Most of the Asian schools offered martial arts classes, and there were even one or two others that offered bloodmagic and necromancy classes. Healing, mind magic and potions were common enough to be taught almost everywhere, but Akren was the only one with espionage classes. At least, espionage classes with a hands-on part.
On the one hand, Akren sounded like a dream come true – unlimited studying, unhindered by any moral restraints, with the best minds of the planet there to help grow beyond all boundaries. Not only theoretical teaching, but also practice and application, with a focus on the latter two.
On the other hand, Akren sounded like a nightmare. Vampires living next to werewolves living next to centaurs and humans, not to mention all those fae races. No protections beyond what one could manage for oneself – and that with the most vicious creatures on Earth living right next door. Creatures that delighted in torture and were even given free reign to do so.
How anyone could study in such an environment was beyond him.
"Uh oh, anyone have a friend who sends letters by albino eagles?" The black-haired vampire suddenly asked, looking out the window.
Draco followed his gaze, and indeed, there were three huge, white eagles making their way straight towards the cottage. From their size, he had to wonder how they'd fit inside the window – their wing span was almost three times as large.
"No." Asmodeus said.
"Probably not good news then. Oh, it must be from Akren, there're three of them." Daray said.
To Draco's surprise, the window opened by itself and the birds somehow managed to fit through. They each dropped a letter, circled the room once, and left. Draco had to suppress a small whistle at the well-trained birds as they dropped the letters so that Asmodeus and the two vampires each received their own, address face up. He hadn't seen an owl yet that could do a similar stunt, and his father would have given anything to have such an impressive bird.
"Isn't there a recent graduate who specializes in training magical birds?" The blond vampire asked, not getting an answer as all three of them opened their letter.
From their darkening expressions, Draco surmised that the message wasn't anything good. From his position on the ground, he couldn't read what was written in the letters, but Daray's slight growl at his back told him enough.
Finally, Asmodeus sighed and rubbed at his temples.
"Damn, there go our plans for the evening." The dark-haired vampire groaned. "I was looking forward to sampling some London…cuisine."
Draco had to fight not to draw a grimace. He knew quite well what the vampire meant by 'cuisine', and he pitied anyone that fell victim to the dark-haired menace. Draco mostly wondered why the vampire wasn't drinking from him anymore, but he didn't look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Yes, I was looking forward to one more night out before returning to Akren." Asmodeus said, penning off a quick letter.
"With that pretty little quarter veela what's-her-name." Daray chuckled.
"Her name is Keesha." Asmodeus growled.
Draco really, really didn't want to hear anything else of Asmodeus' love-life; it was enough for him to see Asmodeus all chipper the morning after one of his … nights out.
"Wait, wait, backup, Rahkesh is willingly sleeping with a magical creature?" The blond vampire asked. "Has the moon turned blue? Hell frozen over?"
Well, veela at least were nice to look at. Draco had to compliment Asmodeus for his taste.
"Oh stop that." Asmodeus grumbled, "I have no problem with magical creatures, Keesha is a lot of fun. It's just anyone from Akren. And vampires."
Draco almost raised an eyebrow. Asmodeus didn't want to sleep with vampires? That spoke of a lot more common sense than he thought Asmodeus had. So far, Asmodeus hadn't minded sharing his cottage with two of them, teasing them, and exchange gestures that could only be called physical violence. And judging by his familiar behavior with Draco's Master – Draco tried to tell himself that, had he apprenticed under Severus, he would have had to call the man Master, too – Asmodeus was around even high-ranking ones quite a lot. Who, according to his books, were even more intimidating than the young ones.
"I'm just drowning in the discrimination there," Silas snickered. "Everyone but us?"
"Goblins would be better. They don't drink your blood and try to force you to change species."
They what? Drinking blood, Draco knew from first-hand experience. But force their sexual partners to change species? Did Mariah want to make him a vampire?
"It's for your own good." Daray replied cheerfully, "and we don't all do that."
"No, but you do always drink your partners blood."
"Not always." Silas said, "just most of the time."
Draco calmed down a little bit, seeing that he was in no immediate danger. When his brain kicked in again, he remembered that he had been with Mariah for quite some time before she left him here, and she had never made any motions of turning him into a vampire.
So was he safe from her?
And would the blond and dark vampires go against her wishes?
"Okay. I wouldn't mind a vampire, if I removed their fangs first." Asmodeus looked quite evil with that statement. From the vampires' winces, Draco surmised that it hurt quite a lot. He had once made the acquaintance of a knee to his groin (accident, not even the Dark Lord's minions had sunk so low), and even hearing about something like that made him wince in a similar manner. Asmodeus smirked slightly, and Draco knew he was insane enough to go through with such a statement, should the need arise. "I don't suppose either of you knows anything about what actions the AAA might take?"
The change of topic was quite sudden, but Draco was very happy about that. He preferred not to think about vampires and their mating habits, and he was curious as to what was the news for the three of them to react so negatively. And what was the AAA?
"Who is the current Minister of Magic here?" The dark-haired vampire asked, putting his own letter on the table.
Taking this opportunity, Draco cautiously looked up from his place on the floor beside the table to read. Knowing he didn't have a lot of time, he sped through the parchment, catching only the most important facts and words: vigilant attack on London pack, werewolf alumnus, Akren Alumni Association, and British ministry not turning the werewolf over.
Draco's eyes slowly widened as he thought about all the political ramifications. First off, the existence of the Akren Alumni Association, probably the AAA mentioned earlier. The fact that the best people in their chosen subjects were all organized. He would be surprised if the AAA didn't have a lot of political sway in the world. After all, their members were considered of the best of the best.
Secondly, the fact that Akren was absolutely unbiased concerning the species of its pupils. That meant that there just had to be some other werewolf alumni in the AAA besides the ones captured.
And thirdly, the unprovoked attack on an Akren werewolf and pending execution by the British ministry. If that didn't mobilize all of the AAA against Britain…
His eyes very wide, he glanced up at the three of them.
"Gary Baines, he's the third in two years. The other two were assassinated. This place is going to hell in a hand basket." Asmodeus muttered.
Would the AAA assassinate the minister in response?
"And I don't suppose killing him would get anyone better. No one's offering a contract on him, not much point. I think the tactic now is to let him lead them into a ruin." Daray said.
"And just what are you looking at?" The black-haired vampire's angry voice in his ear made Draco quickly jerk back from examining the letter. "Didn't Mariah teach you anything?" Daray muttered. "If a slave needs to know something he's told it."
The cold hand on his wrist made Draco freeze in terror, belatedly realizing that he had reflexively drawn his wand. He could feel the vampire's ire and stared fixedly at the floor. The hand squeezed once sharply, then let him go to his surprise. Slowly, in order not to draw any attention to himself, he put his wand back into his pocket and almost sighed in relief as the vampire leaned forward to the couch table and quickly penned a reply to the letters.
"They'll be discussing the demons at this meeting as well." Daray said, casting quite a long spell to send off the reply. "Akren does have a policy for dealing with demon invasions, professor Xanthius insisted on building one. We're not supposed to learn about it until our final year, so Sierra wouldn't tell me what it was, just that it existed."
What demons? This was the first time he had heard that someone else knew of their existence. Draco listened up in alarm. Were they talking about those demons the Dark Lord had mentioned? Those that would serve him as his elite fighters?
"How has that investigation gone?" Asmodeus asked.
"Uncle Kalik has built a system to read disturbances in the flows of magic in the area. They're using a deathmagic scanner to trace them." Daray commented. "Surprising, isn't it? That this Voldemort fellow hasn't claimed them? We've detected evidence of a portal but it's too old to trace the exact location."
The Dark Lord hadn't claimed those demons? But he had seen in the dungeons… Were they spies?
"They're his." Draco said suddenly, as surprised about his words as the three around him. The words had slipped out of his mouth without his conscious decision, and now it was too late to take them back.
"What?" the blond vampire asked, suddenly focused on him.
Draco gathered all of his courage and looked up at a spot somewhere between the vampire's chin and his shoulder. "They're his. The demons are his." He replied.
"How would you know?" Asmodeus asked, leaning forward in his chair, attentive tension lining his frame.
He swallowed around the heavy lump in his throat. He had never been the focus of the three of them like that before. Almost as if they considered him an… equal?
"Before…before Mariah caught me, I was a Death Eater." Draco began slowly, trying to tell the whole thing without remembering too many details. "When I failed at…at a mission…"
He just couldn't bring himself to say that he had been supposed to kill Dumbledore. It was too fresh, too raw what he had managed to accomplish. And the failure he had ultimately become.
Nervously, he wetted his lips and glossed over the next month. "He locked me in the dungeons. There was a huge cavern down there. We passed it every time I was brought out. I saw this big gold…pool in there. With demons carved on the sides."
"Does Mariah know you worked for Voldemort?" The blond vampire asked.
Draco stiffened. They hadn't known about him being a Death Eater? "Yes. He was going to kill me. She saved me."
Draco managed a bitter smile, knowing that whatever standing he might have gained in their eyes during the past two weeks probably was forfeit now. After all, he was only a Death Eater.
Yes, Mariah had saved him, but at what cost? Sometimes he wished Greyback had been able to kill him. At least then, he would be out of his misery, away from all those bad-or-worse choices.
"You ought to be more grateful." The dark-haired vampire snapped at Draco, who flinched.
He ducked, expecting a physical reprimand. But, once again, Asmodeus saved him. "Oh enough Daray. He'll be back with Mariah tomorrow and you won't have to see him again."
He would go back to Mariah? Tomorrow? That was really sudden and unexpected. Was it because they didn't want anything to do with him anymore?
As if they had a will of their own, his fingernails dug themselves into his palms. What was going back into her service be like after the – dare he name it – freedom he'd had here?
"Depends on if she accepts Farov's offer." Daray said cheerfully. "Farov keeps many slaves on hand for his guests."
Farov? Wasn't he the vampire they had been talking about the first time they had come here? The one who… Draco suppressed a shiver of terror. Any service to Mariah was better than that.
"You're an eighteen year old vampire. Grandson of Cyala Ateres or not, unless you're carrying a message from her Farov wouldn't give you the time of day, except maybe to bite you." Asmodeus pointed out.
"All right, very true. But Farov does provide the entertainment for most meetings at Lord Hadrian's manor. Since London has somehow managed to become such a vital spot right now we'll be meeting there a lot for the next few years. I'm sure even if Mariah does sell him we'll be seeing him again, probably on stage." Daray smirked.
Draco paled even more, trying not to think about what he could be forced to do. His time at the Dark Lord's mercy had given him more than enough fodder for his imagination.
Asmodeus snorted. "And here I thought live sex acts as a spectator sport went out of style a few thousand years ago. You vampires always manage to be the stone-age throwbacks of the world. And if it was a big gathering, and after the meetings were over there was some sort of party, aren't young vampires just as likely to get passed around as the actual sex slaves?"
To Draco's astonishment, that shut the dark-haired vampire up, and the other vampire even laughed at him. To be honest, Draco had never really thought about how vampires as young as Daray and Silas were treated in their society. Sure, in the Dark Lord's service, the vampires had fought each other at every opportunity, but that hadn't been too different from the other Death Eaters. But for the regular vampires to treat their own like that?
No wonder they were known for their ruthlessness. Anyone who got to a decent strength must have been 'passed around' enough to result in an absolutely vicious personality. And anyone not strong enough would have been eliminated or turned into a vegetable.
He had a brief image flash before his eyes, of Daray scowling from behind bars at a crowd of leering Neanderthal vampires. The hilarity of it was quite unexpected; he had never enjoyed such sadistic humor before. Nonetheless, Draco was trying not to laugh – he might wind up mauled if he did, sitting as he was by Daray's knee.
With a smirk, Asmodeus cleared his throat to stop the two vampires from horsing around. "Well, anyways, we need to be there in four hours. I have a few other things to do in the mean-time, so I suggest we meet at the portkey drop-point at 19:30."
All at once, they were serious once again, nodding sharply. Without another word, Asmodeus rose from his chair and walked out of the room. Both vampires exchanged a knowing look, which Draco couldn't decipher.
Then Silas sighed. "Come on, Daray, I think we'd better spar the remaining time. Can't have you doing anything – unexpected in the middle of the meeting."
The black-haired vampire pouted. "But I…"
"No. You'll have enough time to see Draco one last time before Mariah gets here tomorrow. Now come with me."
Draco didn't dare remind them of his presence by doing anything that could get their attention, like moving, coughing, sneezing, or breathing. To his big relief, the blond vampire managed to convince the other, and they left with one of the threats Draco had slowly grown accustomed to.
"Now, mortal, don't you dare do anything while we are away, or you won't like the consequences. Understood?"
Draco nodded anxiously. "Y-yes."
Together, the two vampires sauntered out of the door. Draco sighed in relief, waited for a bit to make sure they were out of the hallway, and then finally was able to retreat to his room – something he had wanted to do hours before. Dinner? Well, he'd get around to it when everyone was gone. First off, he really didn't want to chance another vampiric encounter today. Secondly, he had a little bit of research to do, concerning vampiric society and just where he had seen the name Namach before.
He was quite certain that the results would turn out to be… interesting.
A/N: Almost there. Since so many people asked me – there's going to be an epilogue where Draco meets Rahkesh at the Conclave. But you're going to have to wait for it quite a bit because I've got tons of other stuff to do at the moment (2Weeks has already been finished for quite some time, only needing some final polishing). And, yes, I know that half of this chapter is dialogue copied from CiaToW. Sorry, but it covers very important bits, so I could hardly leave it out. It was one of the main reasons why I wasn't sure whether Miranda Flairgold would give her ok to this story.
Sakiku