Chapter Text
“Frumpkin, nein!”
A desperate screech came out from directly between Frumpkin’s teeth, though the cat remained still, unmoved by his owner's pleas. Caleb pinched his nose, already feeling a headache creeping through. His cat never did this normally, so why now?
“You are going to have to let it go, my friend,” he tried, approaching the cat who sat on top of his dinner table with a mouth full of something, “I know, I know, but you have to.”
Caleb considered the small black form on Frumpkin’s mouth. It screeched again and he sighed in relief. At least it was alive.
“Now, Frumpkin, let it go, old friend” he held Frumpkin by the scruff and pried his mouth open with his fingers. The cat caved soon with a reluctant sound, and Caleb carefully scooped the small bat from his mouth. It clung to Caleb’s hand desperately.
“There. Not that hard, ja?” he turned to Frumpkin who glared and left the table in a hurry to sulk somewhere, “I’m glad you are vaccinated, but I think our new friend here will need to be tested.”
The bat seemed mostly ok, thankfully, and it stayed very still in Caleb’s hands, eyeing him with large eyes as Caleb looked for something in his apartment. It had an expression that seemed almost annoyed, if a bat could look annoyed, and Caleb smiled at the silly notion. He gave its tiny head gentle pats with his thumb and was delighted when the small creature closed its eyes and leaned against his hand. Cute.
He deposited the animal inside a shoebox lined with an old towel, with a few holes on its lid, depositing it on top of his bedside table. Caleb closed the door so his cat wouldn’t feel tempted to mess with it again, then set out to find his phone.
00:34 am
Caleb: Hallo Jester, sorry for messaging you so late. I just wanted you to see these when you wake up.
Caleb: Frumpkin managed to catch a bat. I know he’s vaccinated, but I’m unsure if I need to do anything.
Caleb: And I am worried about the bat too. It looks fine, no blood thankfully, but I would like you to take a look at it.
Caleb: Anyway, let me know when you get these.
There, done. He checked Frumpkin once again, finding nothing wrong, no scratches or blood anywhere, though he did look resentful. Good. He entered his room, finally getting ready for bed. The little shoebox box sat quietly on his bedside table, next to his lamp and phone.
“Goodnight little friend,” said Caleb quietly as he settled in bed, “Jester will take care of you tomorrow.”
Caleb came to at 03:00 am sharp with a gasp, startled by a thud and a loud pained cry to his right. Not a cry a bat could make, or a cat. A person-cry.
“Who is there?” he panted, scrambling from his bed and into as much of a defensive position as he could think of in the middle of the night. That meant putting his back to the wall and moving his hand frantically, looking for the light switch that seemed to have disappeared while his eyes scanned the room.
Caleb’s room had a nice, large window by the bed, and his curtains weren’t so thick as to block all light from entering. In a big city like Zadash, moonlight almost didn’t make any difference. Instead, it was the amber glow of street lights that gave him a little visibility. His eyes roamed to his bed, his bedside table, his drawer until his heart froze.
Next to his drawer was a dark, quivering shape. He couldn’t make out any details from it, with one exception. Two small reflective eyes stared back at him. Just like Frumpkin’s, he thought, except the shape was much larger than Frumpkin, much larger than anything that should be alive in his room.
“W-who is there?” he asked again, his desperate voice faltering. He wanted to find the damn light switch, but he needed to look for it, his fingers impossibly lost in the expanse of his wall. He’d rather stay in total darkness than turn away for a second.
Glowing eyes blinked once, returning his stare. As he focused more on it, Caleb realized that the form seemed to be trembling and that its eyes were extremely wide. He felt delirious but heard himself announcing in a somewhat less hysterical tone, “I- I am not going to hurt you.”
The shape stayed where it was, shivering.
“I’m going to turn the light on. Please don’t...” attack me? Kill me? The shape blinked again, “Uh, please stay put.”
There was just something deeply terrifying, he realized, about averting your gaze in the dark when you knew you were being watched by something. Someone. Even though he announced his plan, it took Caleb two full minutes to work up the courage to finally look to the side, quick as a whip, find the switch, and turn back.
His hand hit the switch. Immediately, light flooded the room, and the eerie reflective eyes closed in reflex, probably sensitive to the light. Caleb gasped. A person? It was a drow, naked and trembling on his bedroom floor.
“Er, hallo,” he said, taking in the revealed form. The drow was curled up, knees up to his chin, hugging himself tightly and trembling still. His eyes slowly blinked back open, and Caleb had to admit that despite looking very miserable right now, the drow was beautiful, with deep violet eyes and snow-white hair on top of deep slate gray skin.
“Don’t come closer,” the drow spoke, his accented voice weak. His eyes were wild, and his shoulders up and tense. He didn’t look threatening at all, but Caleb stayed close to the wall.
“Ah. I won’t then. I won’t,” he paused, speaking softly now, “I need to know a few things, though, because I am very confused,” the drow simply stared with a scowl on his face, “Alright. Okay. Um, what are you doing here?”
“I am here because that beast of yours dragged me in, human. Is that not obvious?”
Beast? It took a few seconds for Caleb’s brain to cooperate, but when it did he looked to the floor and, to his surprise, found only the remains of the cardboard shoebox, destroyed as if it had exploded from the inside.
Perhaps it had. He blinked slowly, moving his eyes from the floor to the drow.
There were a few options. Extremely accomplished arcanists could change their form for longer than the hour that Caleb could, for example. But it wouldn't change back like that, in the middle of the night. Those of a more druidic persuasion could assume the form of an animal for a large amount of time, too, though looking at the drow, Caleb somehow doubted that. There was another option, a little more on the nose.
“A vampire?” he said incredulously. Of course, he knew they existed, but in such a large city they were almost unheard of. Well, then again, drow were similarly rare, even if the Dynasty and the Empire were no longer at war.
The drow simply huffed in annoyance and Caleb recognized the expression he saw on the cute animal. This person was definitely the poor bat Frumpkin managed to capture earlier. Realizing he had just stood there staring, Caleb cleared his throat.
“I- I am sorry for my cat,” he felt silly apologizing, but what else could he do? Caleb sighed, “This is all very unexpected, but maybe I could get you some clothes, for starters?”
It took a moment of silence before he spoke again, very quietly, “That would be acceptable.”
“I… have to come closer to do that. Is that okay?”
He nodded slowly and Caleb stepped gently over to the drawer, telegraphing every step. He found soft pajamas, black and warm, and hoped that was alright.
"Right. I can leave you to get dressed, then,” he said, placing the items on the bedside table next to the drow.
“Ah, wait,” he paused, looking down at the drow again. He unfurled his legs and arms a little and clenched his hands on the floor. The naked drow had multiple marks on his otherwise delicate body. Apart from the two small clean scars that ran underneath his nipples, the other marks, bruises, and scratches along his torso, arms, and legs, looked recent and painful, some even infected. With trembling hands, the drow pointed down at his own left leg, where his ankle was badly swollen.
Before Caleb knew what he was doing, he kneeled next to him, feeling as if his blood had become ice, “Oh, no. I am so sorry, I didn't think- as a bat you looked fine…”
“As a bat I was fine,” murmured the drow, still looking miserable, “This is not your cat’s doing.”
It was strange to feel protective of someone you barely met, maybe, but Caleb felt that as the vampire frowned some more on his floor, apparently unable to get up, but not outwardly asking for help either, too proud, too scared. He looked so graceful, all elegant limbs and smooth skin underneath his bruises. Who would hurt such a creature? A slow-burning ember found its way to Caleb’s chest as he grew angry, knowing already the answer to that question.
Long gone were the days in which vampires were considered monsters, dangerous creatures of the night, often drow or goblin or any other race the Empire felt didn’t belong inside its borders. Or, at least, those days were supposed to be done. The war had ended before Caleb was born, but there were still those employed by the king to kill Xhorhasian vampires very efficiently.
Their gazes met and Caleb felt drawn to the intensity of his lavender eyes. There was embarrassment there, but also determination. Caleb offered his hand, letting his eyes soften.
“Come, I'll help you.”
There was only a moment of hesitation before slender hands found his own. He hoisted Essek up as gently as he could, mindful of the bruises on his arms. He shook a bit, and he held on to Caleb's shoulder, putting all his weight in one leg and grimacing. His hands were cold, as expected, and he weighed almost nothing, making it easier for Caleb to help him into the clothing as quickly as possible, doing his best to make the drow comfortable despite the situation.
“You did not have to do that, thank you,” murmured the drow as Caleb sat him on the bed, fully clothed and no longer shivering as much.
“And leave you on the floor after my cat attacked you,” Caleb shook his head, standing and putting a little distance between them, “That would be very rude… er,” he paused.
“...You can call me Essek. And I told you. These are not from your cat.”
Caleb tasted the name on his lips, “Essek. Call me Caleb, then.”
There was a moment of awkward silence as neither knew what to say. Caleb was considering if he should call anyone, but at half-past three in the morning he’d rather wait and do it when people were already awake. He was considering this when a low growling sound brought him from his musings. Essek looked extremely embarrassed, face averted to the side.
“If you’re hungry I have some-” Oh, wait. Vampire. He paused, “Ah. You don’t need food, do you?”
Essek curled up on himself as much as he could, sitting atop his bed, “Very astute,” he paused, side-eyeing Caleb, “You don’t have to worry. As soon as I can, I will transform again and leave your home. I do not have to feed before that.”
His stomach growled again, and he scowled.
“It sounds like you do,” Caleb raided his brain, remembering information he read years back, when he was still a college student, “I thought vampires could go weeks before they felt hungry. Has it been that long?”
“... Yes.”
A bitter taste settled on Caleb’s mouth, as he recalled more from his old classes.
“And to my knowledge, vampires do not lose their clothing when turning into an animal like that. Yours should have appeared back,” Essek’s expression became impossibly tired. Caleb swallowed, his stomach growing heavy. “I- You can tell me. I can help, Essek.”
Essek scoffed, “Please. We barely met and I am a vampire, a threat to children of the Empire such as you.”
He wanted to laugh bitterly, to expose his opinion of the Empire’s politics, explain why he felt a growing need to take care of Essek, but maybe it was too soon. Too many words to convince someone who might not need that right now. He didn’t even consider the argument that Essek posed a danger. Hurt and starved as he was, Caleb felt his odds against the drow wouldn’t be bad at all, even if he didn't have any components for spells on him right now. He reconsidered his approach.
“Ah, you don’t have to tell me, then,” Essek looked somewhat surprised at his dropping of the subject, “I do have a friend who has access to, er, blood, animal blood if that’s alright. She’s a veterinarian. If you don’t want it that is fine but… I could give her a call, right now.”
Essek, to him at least, looked like someone with an intense hold over his own desires, just from the way he held himself together, hungry as he was, in proximity to a very warm-blooded human. Even beyond that, his body language and way of speaking didn’t exactly scream libertine or hedonist, and Caleb was prepared to hear a simple no. Perhaps it spoke to just how hungry this vampire was, then, that he paused for a moment before nodding once.
“...I would be in your debt,” he said simply, looking anywhere but at Caleb, “Mammal is preferable.”
Well, he would have to wake Jester up, then. Somehow, he didn’t think she would mind.