I laid my sword down on the massive table that held its place near to the fire in my hearth. It was a solid thing, for reasons that will likely become apparent as my tale continues. But tonight it held the velvet wraps for my blade and the linen cloths I used to clean her. Before even shedding my own soiled garments I rubbed the blade down with linen, cleaning the gore from it, I flicked a shard of cervical spine onto the floor from where it was lodged in the hilt, along with the torn tendon of some sort. I checked the edge against the glow of the fire, my preternatural vision showing no nicks in the blade. I ran the steel over the edge with only a little force, honing it again and then checking its heft in both hands to ensure my ministrations had not set it off balance. I then oiled it down, rubbing along its length with another scrap of linen slowly, ensuring that every part of its surface was coated. Only then did I wrap it and carry it to my bed, where it rested, on my headboard, within easy reach. I then took the soiled scraps of fabric and tossed them into fire, watching as the linen raised a curious green flame; it always did. The scabbard was loosened from my side and placed close to the fire; not so close that the leather would dry and crack, but close enough that the effects of the weather would be dispelled.

Only then did I see to myself, doffing my night cloak and hanging it over one corner of the posts on my bed. I heard my door open a fraction and turned to it, not surprised, but rather expecting the company.

"You may enter."

There was no hesitance behind the hand that pushed the door open. Nor was there any in the stride of the man who entered, I had left the door unlocked for him. He had been attending me since I had come to the service of the Queen.

"Eric?"

"Jankin."

"I had only just heard of your return. I thought that you would spend more time the warriors hall this night."

"I was not in the mood."

"I will fetch water for you, if you give me a moment." I nodded once and he disappeared. I turned back to the fire. I didn't need the warmth, but it pleased me none-the-less. Such creature comforts were beyond my needs, I could and would sleep in the earth when required. Walking hours in the damp did not weaken me, or cause blisters on my feet from sodden boots. It was the same way with Alcide. The man would walk barefoot over the terrain of the woods and fields, and laugh while even some of the younger vampires complained. They were too close to their humanity for my liking. Good swordsmen, all of them, but Alcide was more like me, a hunter to the core. Of course, all that did not diminish the fact that I did enjoy a soft bed and warm water when it was available. Jankin returned with two buckets of water. He did not lack strength this man and he poured one into a brass tripod, setting it amongst the coals to warm.

"Give me your shirt." He held out his hand, it was his ritual, something we had done after almost every hunt. I pulled off the coarse weave and tossed it to him. He wrinkled his nose at the smell; it was not nearly so bad as other nights, when I had been truly coated in the rot. I began to splash myself with the remaining cold water.

"Eric! Patience!" He ladled some of the boiling water into the cold. "You skin will tear."

"And it will heal again." I took his offered cloth and dipped it in the now not so cold water and wrung it out, running it over my face and neck. It did feel good, to have the dust and ash of the night off of me. I continued over my arms as Jankin added more hot water. He held his hand out for the cloth and I handed it to him as he walked behind me and ran the water over my shoulders and down my back. I closed my eyes as he did it and traced the path of every rivulet over my skin. It was different than standing naked in the rain or under an icy waterfall, both of which I had done, as Vampire and mortal. It was, I closed my eyes, pleasant.

"Give me your trousers." I unbuckled the belt and let the suede drop to the stone floor, and stepping from the mass Jankin collected them, bundling them with my cloak and shirt. He would take them to the laundresses, who would wash what they could and beat the rest out on the lines in the courtyards. They were always returned to me, tears mended, buckles and buttons replaced, zombie guts scraped away. I never inquired as to who did that job, but because of the danger I expected that it was Jankin. While he was not Vampire or Were, he was supernatural in his own right, and therefore immune, not that he spoke of it to me or anyone. I gave him the courtesy of not asking questions; even though I could taste the fairy blood in his veins. He was not pureblood, I knew that much. If he had been full blood he would never have dared come to a Vampire Queendom; but somehow he was protected from the advances of the young ones, and whatever spell it was he had to disguise himself from them, it also kept my hunger at bay, and that of the Queen. Of course, being my servant gave him a great measure of protection from any advances.

I finished washing myself and took the clean linen shirt he had laid out on my bed. The crisp feeling against my skin after the soft warmth of the water made me feel alert again. Jankin had taken the wash water and removed t from the room, destined for the sewers, he had also bundled the laundry and placed it outside my door along with the buckets. Only when it was all tidied did he bolt the door behind himself and come to stand with me in front of the fire.

"You are hungry."

"I am."

He began to unbutton his shirt, pulling the sleeves off to leave it dangling around his waist as he dropped to his knees before me.

"Thank you Jankin." It was barely a whisper as I came down before him, putting my hand, fingers splayed on his neck, turning his head away from me. He no longer flinched as my fangs dropped, the first few times he had, but now it was just another intimacy we shared. I brought my lips to the pulsing artery and pushed my teeth into the flesh, the ruby liquid flooded into my mouth and I could not suppress the moan of absolute joy at tasting it. His hands came up to rest at my hips as I drank. If I could not already hear the beat of his heart, the pressure of his hands on my flesh gave me another gauge to stop. I never took enough to hurt him.

When I finished he laid his head on my shoulder, fatigued by my feeding and the lateness of the hour. I held him there against me, as I stabbed my finger and dotted the puncture wounds, watching them close. The blood gave me a euphoria, but his simple being gave me a comfort only one of his kind could do for a Vampire.

Once his heartbeat had paced itself properly again he pulled away from me and rocking back on his heels, replaced his shirt.

"Do you need anything else from me this night Eric?" The words came slowly, making me doubt his healing.

"I do not." I paused myself, "Do you need anything from me Jankin?"

"No." His answer came with his usual grace, and a hint of sadness.

"Go home to your wife Jankin."

I said it every night as he left me; we both knew he had no wife to return to. He was a denizen of the palace, and like the others, stayed within its walls unless duty called him out. His answer to me was to stand, and brush his hand over my head in some kind of benediction.

"Sleep well." He unlocked the door and left me.