6. Wine

Books: 1-4

Authors Note: I yield to my reviewers' demands. 3

…Plus, I was sick, so I had free time. Hope this fills some terrible empty void or other within all of your souls. XD

" You know you want to, and I swear it'll be worth it. Arra told me exactly where and everything!" Darren babbled excitedly, pulling a pale-faced Larten Crepsley behind him by the sleeve as he maneuvered them both toward one of the side entrances to Seba's storerooms. The halls were deserted and quiet – with the sun at it's peak outside the mountain the majority of it's inhabitants were asleep – and the torches burned low, some reduced as far as to embers with no one to attend to them.

As they turned a corner a narrow door made of thin, discolored wood came into view and Darren put on a burst of speed, his mentor lagging behind him as sweet temptation loomed ever closer. Larten Crepsley was reluctant to cross his old teacher out of experience; after all, no one outwitted Seba Nile. Darren, it seemed, had not learned this rule of thumb. However, the crafty old man did have an incredibly impressive store of vintage wine at his fingertips, and tonight would be occupied late discussing historical strategy with the princes. Bitten as he was as a youth (a night of being violently sick after drinking half a barrel of vinegar tends to put one off seeking a repeat performance) the vampire was somewhat resistant to risking another harsh castigation by Seba's hand – after all, whatever reprieve he next incurred would surely be worse than those before it, and Seba always had been skilled at devising punishment.

Ahead of him, Darren had reached the door. He stood with a hand resting on the tarnished wood, looking expectantly at his approaching mentor. The other pale hand was placed lower on the door, tapping the black-painted iron casing and doorknob. He greeted the older man with a childish grin and moved aside, giving Mr. Crepsley room to word. The man reached forward, and then suddenly hesitated. He looked sideways at his apprentice with narrowed eyes.

" You are sure you know exactly where everything is?" he questioned bleakly, gaze turning back to the lock and his irresolute hand that just brushed the doorknob. It was not too late to turn back.

" Of course I do." Darren insisted, motioning vivaciously toward the door and drawing the map in the still air before him.

Larten sighed, rubbing his fingers briskly together to create enough of a static charge to manipulate the antiquated lock set in the old door. After a few seconds he brushed his hand gently across the rough, peeling black paint that coated the metal casing and a subdued click sounded, slicing through the stagnant air. As he took a step backward Darren darted forward, lifting the latch with care to quell the telltale groaning that was the trademark of the few hinged doors to be found in Vampire Mountain. The wood shivered and grated in protest, but careful maneuvers stifled the loudest groans until the gap between door and wall was wide enough for them both to slip through.

Darren looked back with a beam that resurfaced many a fond memory of Larten's mischief when he spend his first council (alongside a young Gavner and Arra, of course) in the mountain with Seba. A tiny spark of rascality resurfaced in those travel-worn green eyes and he cast a quick glance behind into the deserted corridor. He could feel the long lost thrill of insubordination coming back to him, and a certain element of vigor quickly followed. Larten had reentered a long lost world of youth, and it was simply euphoric.

The half-vampire slipped through the aperture first, leaving the flickering, dying glow of the torchlight. Huge silhouettes loomed over him in the bleak cavern, completely unlit with the absence of the quartermaster of his assistants. Rows upon rows of crates, boxes, barrels, and sacks of supplies were illuminated by the glowing moss that was so common in the lower, less traveled tunnels; they occupied an endless maze of caverns and tunnels, places into which even the bravest of vampires would not willingly enter without one of Kurda Smalht's maps. Self-satisfied and smirking, Darren glanced back around and watched the dark silhouette behind him slip into the storeroom. He figure shut the door behind him with a muted click. A hand gripped the half-vampires shoulder tightly as his mentor drew level with his, bending down to whisper in the boy's ear.

" The wine is stored furthest from this door, is it not? We will go there first," he announced, straightening back up to his full height when he received a nod in agreement. Darren started forward; he stepped silently, leading his mentor down one of the rows of shelves. Arra had provided him with a very good map only just the other night – apparently she had decided that it really was cruel to keep sugar away from little boys. So far, Darren was pleased that things had gone as well as they had; there hadn't been any drunken vampires stumbling about in the lower halls to avoid, nor was there a soul in the storerooms as he'd often seen, taking a last minute stock check or fetching supplies for the mess hall. He'd been worried that Kurda might have noticed that he was up to something but the soon-to-be-prince hadn't suspected a thing; he was a bit too preoccupied with Gavner, Darren reasoned with an open, affable smirk. Confident now in his breaking-and-entering skills he led the way with certainty, leading his mentor without pause to the racks and barrels of bittersweet inebriants.

The particular strain of alcohol Larten was after was superior to the common supply in that it had been aged for generations to maximize its strength. He'd heard that only a small glass could set one's head abuzz, and that two would ensure the wonderful state of inebriation. Seba, Mr. Crepsley knew, was very particular about keeping it stored safely and had upped the security of the storerooms as a whole when he last caught a few wayward vampires trying to make off with some of his better wines. After a few of these incidents the first doors were raised in Vampire Mountain, all of them for the purpose of keeping the common property from being filched by young and foolish vampires.

With the record that he had, this knowledge might have brought the faintest of blushes to Larten's cheeks. Still, youth had him in a stranglehold by the throat, and not unlike his own apprentice he always relished outwitting and defying his mentor. The risks were not always worth the gains, but a challenge was a challenge and life lacked interest without something to defeat. This seemed to be a very common mentality among the vampires.

A few yards ahead of Mr. Creplsey Darren caught his foot on the edge of a large crate and lost his balance; his arms flailed wildly but missed any holds they might have caught on the crates and sacks beside him. Falling forward, the boy froze as the ground rushed up to meet him; catching sight of his apprentice Larten reacted in an instant, darting forward and catching him by the back of the neck. Both of them stayed as they were for a moment –uncomfortable for Darren as is was, with sharp fingers biting into his neck and scratching his skin - breathing shallow and quick in the face of what might have been detection. The vampire regained his calm first, pulling the nearly horizontal body of the child back up onto his feet. Darren slumped visibly with relief, his neck forgotten as soon as he had regained his balance. The boy glanced back at his mentor and – satisfied that they could move on safely – began to lead the way again.

Treading with more care than before, Darren led them around another corner of boxes and kicked a loose pile of burlap sacking out of the way to clear the path to the dark alcove of stone shelves. Following suit, Larten grinned. He slipped forward effortlessly, standing next to his apprentice with twitching lips.

"Go and get your jars of honey and meet me back here," he ordered, giving Darren an affectionate pat on the head, " Then we will go – but do be careful."

"I'm on it." Darren agreed, amusedly watching the older man as he turned around. His footsteps grew quieter and quieter until they disappeared into the silence and darkness of the cavern.

Larten turned back to the shelf, blowing on the seasoned shelves to unearth the carved names and years of each variety, all hidden beneath layers of mottled dust. Once they were obvious the man took a step back and set about choosing the vintage he wanted. Finally, he unearthed an older red variety that he'd remembered helping Seba store when he was a novitiate vampire himself. He reached forward and traced the date of it's bottling with a sigh of contentment. He leisurely withdrew his hand and reached forward to encircle the small cask of wine with one of his arms.

He was about to touch the cool wood of the keg when a hand clamped down on his shoulder and pulled him backwards. For the first time in nearly a decade Larten lost his balance and fell flat on his rear. Embarrassed and blushing, he snarled and whipped around violently to chastise his idiotic apprentice.

"Dar-" he hissed, voice cutting off as he saw who was behind him. His countenance shifted almost immediately from one of flushed anger to one of polite, subordinate respect. He reached out a tentative, welcoming hand. Seba looked down at it and then back up at larten, an ominous upward curve appearing on his lips.

"Ah, Seba! What a pleasant surprise…" Mr. Crepsley murmured, beaming in a childish attempt at appeasing his former teacher. Seba was grinning as well, but a smirk from Seba was more than enough to put anyone on edge.

"Larten! Admiring the wine, were we?" Seba simpered, watching his former apprentice pull himself to his feet and brush the dirt off his soiled cloak. The old man had grown stooped and spotted with age, but somehow he still possessed the ability to stand tall enough to intimidate, and had the disconcerting facility to seem as though he was always looking down on those he scolded. Feeling younger than he had in ages (in a way that was not half as enjoyable as his earlier 'rush of youth'), Larten Crepsley was unsure as to how to respond.

"Ah… yes. So I was. I suppose there are better times to do so, correct? I had better go then…" he stuttered, stumbling over his words and taking a few careful, uncertain steps towards the distant exit. The tiny door in the wall seemed to shrink even further, and – unlike Alice – he had no size altering medication to help him escape the danger.

"No, Larten, I think you had better wait for Darren. It would hurt his feelings if you left without him, no? He should be along in a minute."

"What are you – " the mortified Larten inquired, voice stopping not far into his frantic attempt at defense. As though on queue he saw a faint flicker of movement in the darkness down the row. The echoes of quiet footsteps could be heard, the younger vampire noticed, but they were too heavy to match Darren's light tread. The sea of gloom seemed to part as the figure- the silhouette was misshapen and corpulently grotesque from the distance at which the two men stood – drew closer was illuminated by one of the patches of fungus.

Arra Sails was grinning playfully at him and - even at a distance - a familiar sparkle of impishness was discernable in her gaze. Over her shoulder was a rather limp looking Darren; it was quite obvious his chest was rising and falling, but Larten couldn't help but feel sorry for the boy – any hit from Arra would hurt in the morning, and she'd probably managed to give him a small concussion. He returned her grin guiltily, then turned back timidly to Seba, chin held close to his chest in subordination.

Seba and Arra looked at one another, both looking quite obviously entertained that he had been caught with a hand in the cookie jar. Larten, however, was unamused; he was busy worrying about what exactly his old mentor intended to do to him once they left the storerooms. He truly hoped it would not involve vinegar.