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Martin didn’t want to move.
He could move, of course. The tall woman—Caroline or Carla or something, he knew her last name was Lukas—had given him free rein to mingle with the guests. But he was tired. That was what happened to the humans in the Lukas mansion, after all. They only lived so long, because the Lukases were careless with their drinking.
“Charming party,” someone commented. “A bit too rowdy for my taste.”
Martin’s languid eyes slowly dragged up to look at who had spoken. Average height, dull brown hair shot with grey, a jaunty sailor’s hat. Sharp teeth that flashed as he spoke. No wings—none of the Lukases had wings.
He had a beard. Martin would become familiar with that beard. It burned on his skin as the man drank. Teeth buried in his skin, blood torn from him in shuddering waves.
He wanted to cry out. He wanted to run. But at least Peter was better than the Lukas manor.
He couldn’t leave. He couldn’t run away from the teeth in his neck. He could scream sometimes, Peter was not so cruel to begrudge him that. No matter how much it hurt for his blood to be torn away, all that came to save him was the salt spray of the sea.
There were teeth in his neck. Martin screamed.
There were teeth in his wrist. Martin screamed.
He was back in the chair. There were teeth in his neck and wrist and thigh, tearing away all they could. Martin screamed.
“Martin! Wake up!”
Martin didn’t wake up so much as he was ripped violently from the ocean of sleep and dumped unceremoniously on a shore of pain. There were teeth in his neck, and Martin was screaming.
“Hey, hey, you’re okay. It’s not here.”
”I’m so proud of you, Martin. You’ll make an excellent addition to the bloodline.”
“I don’t think the others will agree.” He was mumbling now. Did he have a personality once?
“Well, they’re not here, are they?”
Martin let out a sob and tried to curl up into the fetal position, but every part of his body screamed in pain, and he ended up just twitching his hands. Someone was here. There were teeth in his neck.
He tried to say something, but his words were choked and useless. Maybe it wasn’t the Lukases that rendered him useless. Maybe he’d always been like this.
A hand rested on his forehead, and he whined pathetically.
“No fever. You’re stone cold.” A bitter laugh. “Figures. Fucking excellent. Not only are you a vampire, you’re a vampire I’m gonna have to drag out of here. While Jon probably dies somewhere. Jesus.”
Martin made a strangled noise. There was a vampire here. Teeth would enter his neck and tear something away.
“Will you just relax?”
”You should just relax,” Peter murmured. “It’ll hurt less.”
“It’ll still hurt. It always hurts.” His muscles were tense, but he couldn’t fight. Useless.
Peter shrugged. “Well, that’s part of the fun. You’ll learn when you join the bloodline.”
Martin opened his mouth to say something, but there were teeth in his neck.
He couldn’t even clench his fists. His combat mask had left his fingers shaky and weak. He was so weak. He was all out of blood. It had been taken by the teeth in his neck. He was dying.
Someone sighed. Martin could smell their blood. It was smoky.
“I don’t know how to help you, Martin. Shit, I shouldn’t want to help you.” A long, shaky breath. “What do you need, Martin?”
A too-warm hand rested on his.
“Blood,” Martin breathed. It was the only thing he could think of. Blood torn from him, blood he tore from others. It was his own teeth in his neck, and there was no one to blame but himself. His tormentor was not one he could escape. Peter Lukas had left too much behind, and now Martin needed blood. He’d left teeth in the necks of others.
“Sure,” someone deadpanned. His voice was familiar, but Martin’s memories had slipped away with his blood.
He was hungry. He was a predator.
His hands shot out, seeking warm skin, but his fingers couldn’t grasp. He whined in the back of his throat. He had to hunt. This was what he was.
”It’s who you are, Martin.”
The man in the sailor’s hat was his only clear memory. It must be important. He had to listen.
“Hey. Buddy. You’re starting to worry me. Are you awake or not?”
There was a hand on his own. Warm flesh and pounding veins. He was going to lose control.
”What I did could mean something,” said the haggard man covered in halos.
His blood was sweet, and Martin had never drank it. His breath caught. He was breathing.
He trusted that man to kill him if he ever lost control, and Martin couldn't even remember his name. He wore an agate on the cord around his neck. Martin tasted garlic.
His hands relaxed.
“I need blood,” Martin groaned.
“Jesus, all right,” the man muttered. “Why not? Today has already been so goddamn weird, and Jon would kill me if you died, so...guess I’ll just ...”
The hand left, and Martin wanted to both weep in relief and snatch it back. He couldn’t lose control.
”You need to hunt, Martin.” He didn’t know if that voice was Peter’s or his own.
His whole body was wound tight, and the tension throbbed through each gash in his skin. He wanted to get up, but he was pretty sure his leg muscles were slashed to hell. What happened? There was a hunt. There was blood in his mouth. There were teeth in his neck.
“Here you go.” Someone pressed warm skin to his mouth. “Don’t say I never gave you anything. You bastard.”
Martin immediately slid in his fangs. He wasn’t so far gone that he forgot to keep it from hurting, and his meal gave a pleased little noise. Martin’s tongue lapped greedily as the blood poured past his lips. It tasted of smoke and charcoal, and burned down his throat. Warmth started to seep through his veins. With great effort, as soon as he had enough to not die, he withdrew his teeth.
“God, that’s creepy,” Tim muttered breathlessly. “Whole ‘nother meaning to the phrase ‘good suck.’”
“Tim?” Martin whispered weakly.
“Hey, Blackwood. You’re awake. I’d make a Skyrim joke, but I honestly can’t remember the exact line. Something about crossing the border?” He sounded tired.
Martin could feel his wings. His ears were pointed. He tried to pull his mask back up, but he didn’t have enough blood.
“Tim, ‘m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Are you going to attack me, Martin? Because when you say it like that, it kind of sounds like you’re apologizing for attacking me in the near future.”
Martin mustered the herculean effort required to shake his head. “No. No, I wouldn’t.”
“Good. I was going to tie you up, but I didn’t want to waste my good rope on you, and we honestly don’t have time.”
Martin winced and finally opened his eyes. Tim looked...well, not mad so much as tired.
“So,” Tim said, deadpan. “You’re a vampire.”
“Are you going to make a Twilight joke?” Martin managed to wheeze.
“Well, now I can’t. Thanks for that.”
“Tim, I...I’m sorry. I promise I...wait, was that your blood?”
“I’ve got plenty.”
“So, so you just gave your blood to a vampire.”
“Sounds about right. It’s fine. Today is already so goddamn weird.”
Martin closed his eyes and groaned. So Jon wasn’t the only reckless idiot in the Institute. He could see Jon’s face clearly now. He took a shaking breath and his muscles relaxed. They hurt so much.
“We’re going to talk about this,” Tim told him. “At length. But right now I’m pretty sure Jon is about to die, if he hasn’t already.”
Martin tried to push himself to his feet and failed spectacularly.
“Not you. You stay here. Shit, wait, I can’t just leave you here.” Quick hands started removing Martin’s shirt. “I’ll bandage you, find Jon, and come back to get you out of here. Good thing I’m always prepared. I was hoping I’d need the condom, not the first aid kit, but...”
Martin weakly tried to bat the hands away as they quickly dressed the wounds on his chest.
“This one’s bad,” Tim muttered. Martin cried out in pain, tears leaking from his eyes, as Tim’s fingers brushed the gash in his stomach. “Martin, I’m sorry about this, but I only have one way to close wounds.”
He stuffed a piece of fabric in Martin’s mouth. Martin was about to spit it out and ask Tim what he was doing when the brand touched his stomach. He arched his back, spasming and screaming, his cries muffled by the gag. Burning, searing pain lanced through his stomach and he smelled burning flesh. Then it was over, and Martin collapsed back into the floor, sobbing weakly.
“Go,” he finally managed to choke out, his voice ragged. “Go, Tim, please. Save Jon.”
Tim rested a knife on Martin’s chest—for a second he thought Tim was going to stab him, but Tim lifted Martin’s hand and curled it around the handle.
“If you die while I’m gone,” Tim told him, “I swear to God I’ll kill you.”
Tim ran out, and Martin lay there on the floor. His wounds were beginning to itch as they knit themselves together with Tim’s hot blood.
“Why haven’t you killed me yet?” Martin asked.
Tim choked on his leftover risotto. “What?”
Martin shifted in his chair. It had been a few days and Tim had found some blood meal (“You could have told me that was an option before I gave you my juice, Martin”), so he could hide his eyes and ears. It felt a little silly doing so, as his wings were still on show so they could heal, but it was the little things that kept him sane.
He hadn’t wanted to come home with Tim, per se. He’d argued that he was a danger and a monster and didn’t want to impose, and Tim had a lot to deal with. Tim had argued that he needed allies and Martin probably wouldn’t hurt him, although the man was clearly suspicious. In the end, the most persuasive argument had come from Martin’s legs, which had collapsed the moment Tim stopped supporting him.
At least staying at Tim’s got him access to risotto.
“Why haven’t you killed me yet,” Martin repeated. “You’re a vampire hunter.”
“I’m a monster hunter.”
“That includes vampires.”
“You know what this job is, right? We don’t just go around stabbing anyone who isn’t human. My brother’s Unseelie, for Christ’s sake. And you’re practically a teddy bear, Martin.”
“I-I’m—”
“Martin, have you ever killed anyone?”
“Yes. A few Darklings who had some sacrifices kidnapped, a spider person too far gone to save, a werewolf who was purposely infecting people—”
“Anyone innocent.”
Martin’s fingers curled and he remembered blood flooding into his stomach. He looked away and didn’t answer.
“Jesus. How many.” Martin smelled smoke.
He might as well tell the truth. Let Tim be the judge.
“Just one,” he said softly. “I don’t even remember what they looked like. It was right after I turned, and I was so hungry, and P-he wouldn’t help, and I...he brought me someone.” He looked back at Tim. “I tried not to, I really did. But...I couldn’t help what I was.”
Tim sighed and ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in unruly spikes.
“I’ve tried to be as human as possible,” Martin whispered. “But I still harm people every time I feed, even if it doesn’t hurt for them.”
Tim just sat there, staring at Martin. He didn’t look shocked, or horrified, just pensive.
“Well,” he finally said, “that explains your whole hangup with the Institute.”
Martin fidgeted with his fork.
“I’m not going to kill you, Martin,” Tim sighed. “We’ve worked with vampires before, you know. From what I’ve seen, you’re one of the good ones.”
“I’m of the Lukas bloodline, Tim. That makes me evil pretty much by definition.”
Tim’s eyebrows shot up at the word “Lukas.”
“Look at you, Martin,” he said. “You’re beat up to all hell—nearly died—trying to save Jon’s life. That doesn’t just make you a good person.” He took a deep breath. “That puts you in the running for ‘friend’ status.”
Martin barked a laugh. “What the hell, Tim? You’d be friends with a vampire?”
“Again, my brother’s Unseelie.”
“The Unseelie just attacked the Institute.”
Tim frowned. “Yeah. And my brother saved the life of my best friend and had to flee the city.”
“Point taken.” Martin buried his face in his hands. “Fat lot of good my ‘noble sacrifice’ did. Jon’s either murdered, missing, or a murderer.”
“Don’t talk like that.”
“And you can’t go searching for him like you want to because you have to take care of a vampire.”
“You’re not helping, Martin! I know the situation is bad, but you’re not the problem here, okay?”
“You should just leave me, Tim. Jon’s more important. It’s already been two days, and that’s way too long.”
One of Tim’s hands shot across the table and grabbed Martin’s fidgeting fingers in a comforting, warm grip.
“Martin. I can look for Jon just fine while still helping you recover. I’m not just leaving you.”
He ran a slow thumb over Martin’s knuckles.
“Why not?” Martin asked.
“Because...shit. Because you saved Jon. And because none of this is your fault, and...I think we could be friends.”
Tim reached up to brush a tear from Martin’s eye. Martin nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone rang.
“Daisy! Hello! How’s it going? Any updates on the case?”
“Afraid not. I’m certain the Archivist did it, but I have no idea how to find him.”
“I’m certain he didn’t, Daisy. Please, leave it alone.”
“You’re the only reason I’m not going to shoot him on sight. Don’t worry, I’ll get a monster one way or another. Just wanted to give you the daily update. Which you insist on for some reason. So here’s my update.”
She hung up before Martin could protest. He groaned.
“Coppers still after Jon, then?” Tim sighed. Martin nodded. “Well, if they can’t find him, I doubt we will.”
“Listen, Tim...if we do find him…” Martin trailed off.
“Mhm?”
“Are you going to tell him? About me?” He took a drink of orange juice to avoid looking Tim in the eyes.
Tim sighed. “Honestly, I’m in a bit of a tough place here. I feel like I have to tell him, but I don’t really want to. And I know you don’t want him to know. But I also—well, if he’s going to fall for a vampire, I want him to at least know.”
Martin sputtered the orange juice all over his plate.
“Okay, no. No, that’s not—he’s—no. He’s not going to fall for me, that’s ridiculous.”
“Are you kidding me?” Tim scoffed. “I guess you haven’t been hanging around him as much as I have. I keep catching him staring into space with this dumb lovestruck look. Any time I mention your name he looks like a sad puppy.”
Martin rested his head on his arms on the table. “Thats—no. Look, even if he is falling for me, it’s not going to happen. I know what I am and what that means.”
“I’m not saying you two shouldn’t date.”
“We shouldn’t.”
“Let me finish. I’m not going to tell him. But you have to if you’re going to start a relationship. That’s my condition.”
Martin nodded slowly.
“Okay.”