Chapter 11: Snow in the Fall

Before Aiden could say 'Mitchell', the other vampire was tearing through the air, his fangs out and his eyes as black as the morning's first shadows. The son of the print-maker had barely enough time to raise his arms over his face and he braced himself for the first rampant fist. Mitchell didn't let the block deter him, and continued with uncharacteristic speed to re arm another punch.

"I almost trusted you!"

The moment's accusation gave Aiden enough time to arm up and he sniffed the air for movement. With a practiced sweep, he launched Mitchell away by ramming the butt of his palm firmly up the other vampire's stomach and through his diaphragm. Something he knew would give him another second to collect himself before his assailant's breath would normalize.

"Aiden," Henry too had dropped his mask and coiled his thighs.

"Wait." Aiden hadn't meant to show fangs; the knee jerk reaction compounded the frenzy that was about to start, "Wait a second. We can just talk about this."

He tried to shallow his eyes but in that second Mitchell slammed his entire body into the American and his fist flew hard into Aiden's jaw. He staggered back, tangled in the other man's attack and smashed the back of his head on the hotel signboard. That blow was enough to break all the concentration he had managed. The two locked on each other as Mitchell seem to try and strangle the offender with his nails.

Aiden, blinded by hot flashes, rolled his eyes under his deep dark brows then ripped out instinctively and wrenched the younger vampire to his side. Freeing his knee, he dug his boot onto Mitchell's hip and kicked as sharply as he could. The other vampire scraped back along the gravel before scrambling back to his feet.

Aiden hissed loudly still blinking away spots, and in a pleasant lapse of self control, launched himself forward, dragging his fist through Mitchell's face. It drew vampire blood, and Mitchell coughed. So the American wasted no time to spin around and cock his arm back for another punch, but the British vampire ducked then thrust his whole body into Aiden's ribcage again.

Winded and half shocked, the two vampires fell down to the gravel with snarls and gnashing.

Snow was just stepping out of the car and he faced the pending sunrise with a soft smile. The cool air frosted the whole day with a gray sort of tone and ships from the harbor were starting to blow their fog horns regularly. The ancient one pat his coat's breast pocket, found his sun glasses and in a smooth motion eased them over his eyes so that he could watch the vampire skirmish more clearly. "Ahh. This is good entertainment," sighed the vampire with an understated pleasure.

Aiden and Mitchell were a bit too pre-occupied with their predicament to comprehend what the other was saying; Aiden would later be thankful that Snow didn't see this display as an example of the Family's inability to handle issues diplomatically.

When it became obvious Mitchell was not going to stand for conversation during a fang fight, Aiden resorted to evading. He hadn't wanted to harm Mitchell over a misunderstanding but dodging a blood-frenzy fighter was proving to be a lot more difficult for Aiden than he had anticipated. And since Mitchell seemed to have enough dexterity and strength to simply escape from Aiden's practiced pins, the American was tempted to just knock the British brawler out and try and talk some sense into him after he had strapped him to a hotel bed.

"Okay, Mitchell I'm not going to fight—" he said 'oof' instead of 'you' when the attacker's fist collided with Aiden's nose.

This time, Aiden started bleeding. He brushed his face, his features seething with frustration. He wanted to unleash the bloodlust—he wanted to return Mitchell's reaction with the feral response of his own. But he was getting older and he was starting to comprehend that this— the moment when all control switched off and a vampire sees nothing but the anger and the blood— was a dangerous event horizon. Mitchell was angry enough to have already reached his limits, and refused to be spoken down. But Aiden was beginning to recognize when he was about to breach the point of no return and sometimes—just sometimes, he had the strength and self control to step away.

So with great effort, he backed away from the fangs in front of him, then he returned to Henry's side on the other end of the driveway with vampire speed.

Brushing the blood from his lips, he masked his face, and Henry (though suspiciously) saw Aiden and did the same. The escorts too seethed their fangs, but they didn't lower their stance. But they knew Aiden by reputation only, and neither had been very keen on interrupting a fight between Snow's chosen and Mother's chosen.

"Ah," Snow noted the end of the fight, then made his way to the front door sounding mildly disappointed "Okay, then carry on. I will check on our guest."

It was then the main door to the hotel opened, and Hettie walked out with the front of her lacy blue dress drenched in fresh bright blood and a generous part of her meal melting like chocolate in her hand. Mother followed closely behind her standing over the little vampire with another part of the meal in a crystal goblet.

Mitchell's black eyes trained sharply at the two women and, seeing nothing but blood, curbed his rage from Aiden to the Old Ones. With superhuman speed, the ex-vampire-king swallowed the gap between himself and the hotel's front door.

With practice, instinct and base reaction, Aiden did what he was best known for and he sliced himself between the assailant and Mother in the blink of an eye.

Over the decades, he had been Mother's protector, and Sauren's protector. When it came to his undead training, serving them came more naturally than speaking. It took the last ounce of his consciousness to remember Mitchell was not his enemy, and only by sheer luck did he adjust his aim from Mitchell's heart to the other's head.

The cracking sound of Aiden's knuckles on the man's cheekbone echoed through the Boston dawn. And unconscious, Mitchell slumped to the ground, hitting the white concrete staircase loudly.

Hettie's eyes were bright and Snow himself had turned to look over his shoulder as if he had almost been impressed. He gave Aiden an approving second glance then continued up the stairs to stand by the regal Family lady.

"I brought you a drink, Mister Snow," She said courteously and diplomatically. "One of many choice samples you may enjoy from our selection."

A sip and this did impress the vampire legend. "At least the lady of the house knows how to show some hospitality." He looked back over at Aiden, who was just now catching the last of his breath. "Is this your newest protégé?"

"My name is Aiden, sir," the vampire dipped his head respectfully, old etiquette hitting hard and he realized he had tucked his hand over his belt as he nodded. "I apologize for not being at the hotel for your arrival. And I apologize for this unfortunate event," he indicated toward Mitchell, "I promise you we have treated him with better manners before today."

Snow sniffed, half amused, half unimpressed then lifted his shades off of his eyes to reveal his hot, old gaze. "He is a very well groomed lapdog."

"Thank you," Mother said, then as they turned to enter the hotel, the old woman draped her pale elegant arm into Snow's hooked elbow. He escorted her back through the Hotel doors. Then to Olfaq, "Pick that thing up off of the floor. Suppose we'll have to bring it inside now." The butler nodded. "Oh, and Aiden?"

The vampire nurse's dead heart threw itself into his ribcage and he tried not to look worried. "Yes ma'am?"

"Don't think I didn't see you restrain yourself on that dreg." He knew very well she could have lifted her finger and Mitchell's head would have rolled. "Next time you let someone who attacks me live; I will take your teeth."

Aiden smiled and sighed in relief, she was forgiving him for his association with Mitchell. "Yes ma'am."

"Make sure you don't hold back next time."

And the doors to the Hotel closed behind the three Old Ones. Aiden stood at the top of the staircase still half bent over his wrist. He only straightened when he realized he was in no trouble at all. This episode may quell Mother over, the issue of the werewolf prison break still needed to be resolved. But presently, she didn't seem to care that there was anything amiss in the grounds keeper's attachment.

And for a while, his fears for his selected family were quelled as well. The more he thought about it, the more he realized how relieved he felt.

Olfaq, however, was not pleased.

"Hey, daydreamer. Stop grinning like an idiot. You going to help me move this body, or not?"

- - - -{Not long later}- - - -

"U-uh," Annie approached Aiden as he was trying to avoid thinking about the virgin feast that was taking place in the ballroom under his feet. "Is there a reason Mitchell is handcuffed to a bed upstairs?"

"Huh?" Aiden was hungry. He could imagine blood flowing down his throat and filling his soul. If he bled, it was almost sure that healing would take the energy right out of him. He was really hoping he wasn't going to be in the hotel when they popped the cork on the first dozen. He had figured he could stash a small vial of wolf blood and lick it till the appetite waned. But he hadn't had time to prepare any and now he felt the temptation ebbing away at his soul.

"Mitchell, my flat mate, is unconscious upstairs and tied to the furniture," She made a few flippant hand gestures then finally said, "This better not be some kind of vampiric sexual experiment. Kinky but not something you should do with—well I may think of someone you should do it with but I can't really imagine who right now. So, No. No sex experiments with my flatmate if you please."

For a second, Annie reminded Aiden of his own ghost room mate, and he was beginning to imagine Sally's face on Annie's shoulders.

"No. We got into a fight and he wouldn't listen to sense. I'm waiting for him to wake up so I can explain what happened."

"Oh. Is that all?"

"Is 'that all' of what?"

"Is that all of the excuse you can give me as to why my flatmate is handcuffed to a bed upstairs!"

Aiden had thought it was a very good excuse. "He attacked me, Annie. And then he attacked the Old Ones. He wasn't about to listen to anything I said."

"That's not like him," she stated firmly. "I'll speak to him"

"But he's –" and Annie sucked herself through the supernatural, disappearing from his view before Aiden could say, "Unconscious."

So Aiden picked himself laboriously up and walked to the hotel's visitor room. The door was propped open and the blinds were tightly shut. Still, a bit of the late morning sunlight splinted through the window and stabbed the dusty room.

Annie was sitting at Mitchell's prone side, her hand gripped hard on his shoulder, her face furrowed with concentration. And Aiden, instead of stating 'I told you so', leaned back on his heel, and propped his shoulder on the door frame. After a few minutes, she trailed her slender fingers along the length of his muscular arm and slipped her hand into his.

To the American's surprise, The British man stirred, fumbled a bit to hold Annie's hand back then tried to roll over from his stomach to his back completely tangled in his arms. Aiden took a very cautious step into the guest room and suspiciously watched the other vampire.

Mitchell's eyes were a bit bloodshot and his face was a pale white, but his mind was sound and he sat more like a gentleman now than any other time Aiden had been in his presence. The two vampires looked at each other quietly for a while, neither quite sure what to do, then finally Mitchell said: "Annie told me what happened."

Aiden didn't know how, but he didn't look a gift horse in the mouth. He could usually tell when a vampire was lying to him, and anyway, Mitchell didn't seem the type to be able to hide his distaste easily.

"I'm-" he rolled his eyes as if he were contemplating how to formulate words, then finally he said, "I may have been a bit hasty to attack you in the car park."

Aiden chuckled, that meant: I'm sorry. "You can recognize his scent pretty quickly can't you?"

"He's my best mate," the vampire explained, "I could recognize his scent a block away."

"Oh, don't exaggerate," Aiden fumbled into his jacket for the keys, "You didn't notice till you were ten feet in front of me."

Mitchell smiled, if only to be polite—'He could recognize when someone was trying to lighten the mood,' decided Aiden. And the vampire realized that they had some how, finally, become friends.

"Do you want me to take you to him?" Aiden asked, trying to unlock his handcuffs. The keys on his ring rattled, and he was a bit apprehensive of what his shaking hands meant. Aiden had pushed down the hunger, and though he tried to employ this concept of mind-over-mater, it was obvious his body needed something more than a burger to quench his appetite. "He's healing at my apartment."

"Maybe. But I'm going to need something to eat. I can't feel my face."

Aiden apologized. It was likely Aiden's fault any part of Mitchell's injuries were unattended. And when Mitchell wrung his wrists and gingerly touched his bruised nose, Aiden couldn't help but remember his jaw felt like a poker was sticking into his gums. Mitchell was no push-over, and if he had been the same age as Aiden, the match would not have come out with as clear a victor. Fortunately, that was not the case tonight.

"Snow started some of Olfaq's virgin collection. If you want, there should be enough to get sustenance."

"I'm trying not to drink live."

Aiden let out an unexpected 'huh' then said, "at all?"

"If I can help it," though the sad hunger in the other's face clearly screamed that he wanted to. "Anyway, I try not to drink till death."

"There are bleed-volunteers," Aiden thought of finding a donation kit and pouring himself a bleed bag. Most of the volunteers though, had addiction problems or STIs, clean enough to drink but tasted like tar half of the time.

Mitchell made a face, and Aiden didn't blame him. They came to the silent, yet unanimous decision that it was too much of a hassle to get someone from the collection and so they remained in that mutual misery. "If you can wait, breakfast should almost be over. I can send Hettie and Snow back to the guesthouse then there's donated blood at my apartment. It's not vein-hot, but the packets weren't bleed more than two or three weeks ago. You drink donated blood don't you?"

Mitchell seemed to perk at this though he kept his excitement as mild as possible, "I haven't eaten since I got here."

Aiden suddenly felt sorry for ever thinking Mitchell looked like an unfed dog, "That explains."

"Mitchell's been sober for three years now," Annie said proudly. Aiden did observe Mitchell blush and he looked sharply at the ghost girl. She didn't notice and said something else about Mitchell and blood addiction.

Aiden didn't ask Mitchell what his dark look had meant; he knew it intimately. And for a second, the American was half relieved that he wasn't the only vampire trying to forsake live blood—and failing. Sure, his average anual murder count had dwindled from half a thousand to less than a dozen. But 'low deaths' didn't mean 'no deaths'.

Aiden just gave his counterpart a sympathetic grimace and waited patiently as the guest eased himself back into the hotel bed. "Is he okay?"

"Who?"

"George."

Aiden purposefully avoided saying everything and just stated, "My Roommate's looking after him. Do you remember Josh?" Mitchell looked at him blankly, and Aiden said, "He accompanied us to the Cage."

"Do you mean the werewolf familiar?" He was pleased, "I thought he belonged to the Family."

"No, he's not friends with the family." Then after some consideration, Aiden said: "Actually, it's too bad I didn't have any reason to mention this to you earlier, but I also live with a ghost."

"Sally's really whiny," Annie complained sharply. Aiden allowed himself to laugh at that comment. Mitchell too smiled, then gathered his ghost in his arms before she had the sense to be mad at him.

"So George is really okay?"

"He's alive, and healing nicely at the house. But he's not a hundred percent; he's been resting while you've been unconscious, as far as I know it."

"Thank god."

And when Aiden saw that relief relax the other vampire, the American smirked broadly and got up. "So I'll come back here after I drop off Snow and Hettie. I just hope that two moon waned 'wolves can hold the fort without us protective vampires to guard them."

Mitchell then flushed, and he said 'hey' to avoid talking about his lack of self-control in the parking lot. "Did I mention he's my best mate?" he asked, half jokingly.

Aiden nodded his head calmly and closed the door behind Mitchell and Annie as they cradled each other in the bed. The vampire thought it was a strange combination, but the romantic in him ignored the obvious physical barriers and smiled warmly at the relationship.

Hungry, tired and in serious need of a shower, Aiden swaggered back to the elevator lobby. He was completely unaware of the little Old One as she eve's dropped on their werewolf conversation from behind an open door down the hall.

Only very rarely did Hettie feel the need to prank, and as the wicked grin started to blossom across her porcelain fair skin, she knew now would be the rare occasion she felt the desire to throw herself a party. Almost five hundred years old and she was still a child, after all.