4. Scrub

Books: 1-4

Author's note: Sorry this took so long to churn out; my muse has fled. But, on my tongue, I swear I shall return to my churning-out-things glory without delay… Man, I do love criminally insane Seba. XD Wonder what got them into so much trouble, don't you? Perhaps you'll get an answer in the next update.

There was an uncanny resemblance visible between mentor and apprentice, especially as they sat together in one of the large kitchen's scrubbing off a crusty-black layer of burnt on stew from a giant metal pot. The two were seated side by side on an old, worm eaten crate, each armed with a damp rag to rub away the charred bits from the worn, dented metal. A few yards away the mountain's quartermaster peeled a pile of potatoes, face stretching with sadistic joy whenever he looked up from his work and watched the two struggling with the burned on mess of stew.

In order to reach the charred black bottom of the container it clearly had to be tilted back (unless one or the other felt up to getting covered with the charred shavings they were so busy scraping loose by flipping the pot completely over) at a rather sharp angle. Larten realized this quickly and moved to the other side of the vessel, pushing it up onto one side to provide Darren better access to the bottom. The heavy metal groaned in protest as the vampire struggled to continue to hold it high enough for his apprentice to reach. He gritted his teeth and braced the bottom of the pot against his shoulder, biting his tongue against what felt like the separation of his shoulder from his torso.

If Mr. Crepsley hadn't been so preoccupied with fighting the immense weight he might have caught Darren's obvious reluctance to get near the precariously balanced pot, and perhaps even scolded him. However, after a moment of hesitation (during which the boy could feel Seba's eyes burning noticeably into the back of his head) he sucked up his fear and moved closer, starting on what was sure to be a long and arduous task. The strained face of his mentor disappeared as he squatted and began chipping away the burnt material. His actions were awkward and edgy, and the boy was obviously ill at ease working beneath the pot.

When dealing with heavy items - especially those suspended by a means as unpredictable as a single persons strength – instincts are often best listened to. Seba had only just turned his attention back to the task of peeling a particularly resistant potato when the pot came crashing down with an ear-splitting clang. It echoed through the darkness like a shot of thunder, spitting and hissing viciously like an irritated cat. The half vampire was lucky enough. Darren – full of nervous adrenaline as a result of being trapped in the shadow of the groaning iron monster - darted out of the way almost instantly, only just avoiding complete annihilation.

He was relieved for half of an instant until the shock ebbed away and he felt the agonizing throbbing in his left foot. He shoved one shoulder against the upturned metal pot and shoved, freeing his foot. The boy was completely still for a moment, eyes wide and lips pressed closely together. Larten could have sworn he'd seen tears welling at the corner of each eye, but the light had been dim. Suddenly, Darren's eyes clenched shut and he took a deep breath. His mouth opened and his face contorted with pain.

" OW!" he yelped, eyes going wide again as his vanez-influenced vocabulary kicked in, and did so quite loudly indeed, " BLOODY DAMN MOTHER F-"

Mr. Crepsley had fallen back when the weight of the pot had finally got him and was only just recovering when he noticed the accident and heard the child's pained yell. He immediately jumped up and was behind the boy in a flash, clasping a disgustingly dirty and sweaty hand over his apprentice's vulgar mouth. Darren growled and writhed for a moment and then seemed to come suddenly to his senses. He slowly stilled, eyes coming to focus on the hunched over form of Seba Nile, who had stopped peeling and was watching mentor and mentee with narrowed eyes.

From behind him, Darren felt Mr. Crepsley take in a shivering breath.

Seba shook his head slowly, while getting to his feet and setting the potato and knife down. He turned to the two, somehow managing to meet both of their gazes flawlessly. He raised a hand and brushed away a couple of stray peelings from the front of his rough crimson robe. The tension in the air grew heavier, and Darren bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood, taking a step backward into the chest of his mentor as Seba approached.

"Now, I gave you two a way to make up for your misbehavior. I allowed you mercy, an easy job in exchange for forgiveness. Do not make noise, I said. I know you are skilled enough where it comes to silence - you are my own little fledgling after all, Larten - but it seems…" he crooned, moving carefully closer to the huddled pair, "Well, I do fear that you will have to pay the full penalty."

Darren shivered fearfully and edged away from the approaching Seba, trying to hide himself behind Mr. Crepsley without either of the vampires noticing. Larten was a bit too observant for the boy and grabbed him by the back of the neck, anchoring him in place. Seba smiled wide, and Darren wondered exactly how long it took a vampire cooped up in the mountain to go completely insane.

"Seba, please, it fell on his foot… and I did not say a thing." Larten begged, eyeing his old master with carefully and still clutching his apprentice tightly. Darren remained silent, wide-eyed and frowning in his mentor's grasp.

The old quartermaster remained silent, eyeing the two as his wide, ferocious grin grew. That was all Darren needed, and more than he could take. The boy renewed his efforts to get away from Mr. Crepsley; to get out of there before it was too late. Larten, however, had no desire to be left to take the brunt of Seba's punishment alone, especially when he saw it as the boy's fault that they were doomed. Mr. Crepsley wrapped his arms around Darren in a bear hug and lifted the frantic child a few inches off the ground. The tactic did seem to calm him; although Larten couldn't help but give him a tighter-than-necessary squeeze each time the boy kicked him in the gut. Darren finally stilled, panting, as a result of the punishing restriction of his breathing; the exhausted vampire made a mental note to try cutting off his charge's supply of oxygen to settle him down in the future.

Seba had begun his own little aside and was muttering darkly to himself in a dark corner where two of the tall shelves met. Snatches of his words could be caught but all were so nonsensical neither vampire nor apprentice bothered to listen, only stood in silence until the murmurs stopped. The old man suddenly quieted his muttering and ran down the isle, turning at a corner and disappearing from sight. Darren stopped fighting Mr. Creplsey's hold, his left eye twitching slightly. The two looked at one another, and Larten slowly set his apprentice down.

"W-Where did he go?" Darren asked, glancing over and seeing his own confusion manifesting itself on his mentor's face as well

"I cannot so much as imagine. However, I suggest we make ourselves scarce before –" Larten was cut off as Seba reappeared at the end of the isle, and he snapped his mouth shut. The two froze as the second oldest vampire made his way down the isle, carrying two long, narrow boxes. They gleamed smoothly in the candlelight and were studded with a few shiny metallic screws to keep them from falling apart. The grain of the darkly stained wood was sanded and even, ominous in its splendor. Mr. Creplsey quickly grabbed Darren, who was tensing up and getting ready to make a run for it.

Seba closed in.

The quartermaster handed each a box and took a few steps away, motioning for them to open the tiny containers. Their was a moment of shock, and then another of reluctance. Finally, the two victims took a look at one another and opened the proudly decorated boxes.

"Toilet brushes?" Darren asked, looking up with a look of confusion on his face.

Mr. Crepsley caught on a bit faster than his young apprentice. His face began to change colors, cheeks gaining a strange green tint as he stared at the brush. He raised a spidery hand to his mouth and his eyes bulged; suddenly he ran to the end of the isle and retching noises echoed down the isle of crates. Darren glanced to seba, a look of disgust evident on his features. When he spoke his words were soft and tense.

"The mountain doesn't really even have toilets… what exactly are we even supposed to do?"

"You'll find out," Seba assured him. The smile stretching his wrinkled face grew even wider.

"Is it really that bad?"

" Oh yes," Seba responded, catching Darren's wrist as he attempted to bolt from the storerooms. Listening to the retching come to an end, Seba knew that this was going to be very, very interesting.