Danya followed Simon and Hamish down the wide staircase, his back straight and his expression carefully blank. He had found his mask again now that he was calmer. He was an accessory, a pet, with no thoughts or feelings of his own, serving from his master’s shadow.

Augustus stood from his seat at the dining table as they entered the room, spreading his arms wide in greeting. “Captain Bell, Hamish, please, come, take a seat. It’ll just be the three of us — well —” His eyes caught on Danya. “The four of us, I suppose, tonight. I wanted to get to know the two of you personally before we get into anything more.”

Simon gave him a nod of understanding. “That’s fine.”

Hamish shot him a look and stepped forward. “I think we prefer it, actually. We had a big party last night, and it all gets a bit much. We weren’t born or raised for any kind of fanciness.”

Simon guided Danya into the seat next to his with a hand on his shoulder, and Hamish sat down on Simon’s other side. Augustus reclaimed his seat opposite Simon.

“Oh, I don’t know. I think the Captain is adjusting to his new role quite nicely,” Augustus said with a gesture to Simon. “He has a slave now. That seems quite fancy.”

Simon clasped his hands on the table in front of him and leant back.

“He was a gift, actually,” Hamish supplied when it became clear Simon didn’t intend to join the conversation. “I’m sure you can understand that given the circumstances of our job, a surprise slave isn’t the best gift, but we appreciate the support the civilian population shows us.”

“And I’m sure you’re getting much more support after Stowley, Captain,” Augustus said, shifting the conversation back onto Simon. “I heard you took command after your own captain was injured and flushed the whole city clean. Saved a lot of lives.”

“And lost one,” Simon added.

Augustus’ expression sombered. “That is the unfortunate reality of war.”

Simon gave a nod of thanks to a servant as she set a glass down in front of him and filled it with red wine. “Unfortunately. Still, we’ll all die one day. The best we can hope for is that when we do, it’ll mean something.”

Unless you were a slave, Danya supposed. Then your life meant nothing from the start and you could never hope to change that. 

Well, forget that. Danya would never be loved or wanted, but he could make sure he was remembered. But first… first he needed something sharp.

The knife he was given for eating carved through steak with ease, but Danya could only imagine the mess it would make of his wrist. Even if he could take it without being noticed, it wouldn’t be a practical tool for attempting surgery on himself.

He ate slowly, keeping an ear on the conversation as his eyes roamed the table in search of other options.

Simon was clearly a reluctant participant in the chatter, though he was never quite rude. Discovering that it wasn’t just himself who attracted such a lukewarm response from Simon might have been a comfort to Danya if it hadn’t been for the conversation he’d overheard.

As the evening wore on, Simon seemed to tire more and more of the situation, and even Hamish was starting to struggle to compensate for him.

“So, Captain.” Augustus leant back from his empty plate and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Do you have a plan of approach yet? I’m sure you realise that Lainton is a bit more complex than Stowley.”

Simon swallowed the rest of the wine in his glass in one gulp. “Mmm… well, not yet. I’ll need to take a closer look at things once I get my unit together. The, uh… the tunnels running under the city. They’ll complicate things.”

Danya felt out the curve of his glass as he took a sip of bitter wine. It would break easily into sharp shards, but they would be thin and brittle and hard to manage.

The servant refilled Simon’s glass and set the wine bottle down next to Danya with a solid thump. Perfect.

Danya had been trained to be graceful, well mannered, unobtrusive, to make every movement careful and deliberate. Nothing had ever felt so unnatural as swinging his elbow out and ‘accidentally’ knocking the wine bottle onto the floor. He was already out of his seat as it shattered and splashed the bottom of his robe with fragrant liquid.

Danya babbled apologies and made a show of trying to clean up the mess he’d made with his hands. It took Simon only seconds to pull him away, but by then Danya already had what he needed wrapped in a napkin and tucked into a pocket in his robe.

Augustus gave Danya a flat-lipped glare, then flicked a glance at the servant. “Suzie, please take the slave to get cleaned up and ask Michael for another bottle of wine for our guests.”

Simon waved him off, his fingers squeezing firmly around Danya’s upper arm. “No, no, I’ll take care of him.”

“It’s no trouble. There’s plenty more wine—”

“No, I’m starting to feel a bit tired anyway. Goodnight, Augustus.”

“Yeah, we’ve had a bit of a long day of riding. Thank you for the lovely meal—” Hamish was saying as Simon led Danya out of the room by his arm. He didn’t speak as they headed back upstairs. 

Simon shut and locked the door of his room before flopping down heavily onto the bed. “I don’t trust that guy. There’s something… off about him.”

Danya had expected at least a mild scolding for the incident with the wine bottle, but it seemed to have been forgotten already. When he knelt down next to the bed to help Simon unlace his boots, Simon made no objections.

“I think I might be a little bit drunk,” Simon said carefully. “I didn’t mean to get drunk.”

How much had he had? Two glasses of wine? For a human Simon’s size, that didn’t seem like nearly enough to cause significant inebriation. Though, Danya himself hadn’t even finished a single glass, and he was a mage, and he had to admit his own head felt a little woozy.

Simon stretched out his foot and wiggled his bare toes. The door to Hamish’s room shut down the hall. “I don’t like this.”

“I’ll stay awake and keep an eye on things,” Danya assured him, which was true, because he would be spending the night slicing his wrist apart just as soon as Simon got off to sleep.

“Good,” Simon murmured, his eyes sliding shut. He took a deep breath in and let it out as a sigh.

It was hard to look at him like this. Too easy to see the man Danya wanted him to be, to simply forget about what he had heard and hope. Yet… had he not seen the other side of him just a day ago? He could switch off any softness he possessed whenever it suited him.

Danya set Simon’s boots at the foot of the bed and knelt at his side. “Sir?”

“Mff,” was Simon’s response. He shifted but didn’t open his eyes.

“Would you like me to help you get changed for bed?”

“Mnh,” Simon said, already mostly asleep.

Danya let out a long breath. “Okay.”

This was ideal, really. Ordinarily, the possibility of waking Simon would have been a major concern, but that clearly wouldn’t be an issue tonight. Danya would have plenty of time to do what he needed to without fear of discovery. So why did he feel so unsettled?

Danya shook his head. No matter. He couldn’t afford to surrender to doubt or hesitancy now. He had to make this count. He went to sit on the cot the servants had made for him on the other side of the small room and retrieved the glass from his pocket.

This wouldn’t be the first time he had intentionally hurt himself. He had first realised that what he knew of mending cloth could be extrapolated to flesh only a couple of years ago, and since he was not supposed to be powerful enough to do such things, he had only been able to practise in secret. He had led a gentle enough life that hurting himself had been the only way to achieve that.

Even so, as he held the sharp edge of the glass over his skin, he was reluctant to press down. His only practise was with very superficial injuries. What if he accidentally caused himself major damage and found he didn’t know how to fix it?

Danya let out a self deprecating huff of laughter. He would rather bleed out on this floor by his own hand, knowing his master would have to face the stark reality of his death when he woke up, than be taken away somewhere to be quietly euthanised. He pressed the edge of the glass down against his skin.

Blood beaded up along the shallow line immediately, but Danya ignored it and let it drip from the side of his wrist to soak into the fabric of his robe. A small amount of blood loss didn’t matter. He pressed more firmly for his next attempt, swallowing hard as the skin split apart. He pushed a little magic into trying to slow the bleeding now, but he didn’t really know what he was doing.

Danya pushed down against the cut with his fingers, hoping the tiny chip would just pop out. He knew it was in his wrist somewhere, but he had never been able to feel out its location with his fingers so he suspected it was deeper. It wasn’t supposed to be easy to remove.

Danya winced as he deepened the cut. It stung. His hand felt unsteady and it was hard to see what he was doing when everything was covered with blood. Maybe this had been a mistake. Maybe, deep down, he had always known that even this first step of his plan had been futile. Maybe—

Danya froze.

For a moment, he didn’t even know why he froze, just a pure, animal instinct telling him to be still. Then he felt it. It felt like… like… energy, but not human, not mage, not animal. Like more and less than all of those. Powerful, like shrieking in Danya’s mind, but with a simplicity to it that no living thing possessed. And it was getting closer.

Danya’s eyes flicked to the door. Simon had locked it, but… this wasn’t a human stalking up upon them. This was a monster, this was… this was… Danya swallowed thickly, because suddenly he knew. This was a vampire. And that door would not stop it.

“Simon,” Danya hissed, knowing the vampire could surely hear him. He crawled over to Simon’s side and shook his shoulder with a bloody hand. He let out a frantic breath. His blood was everywhere. Was that what had lured the vampire here? “Simon, wake up.”

Simon’s body rocked when Danya shook it. He didn’t shift. He didn’t make a sound. He was still alive, still breathing, but he was far more deeply unconscious than any man had cause to be after only two glasses of wine. I don’t like this, Simon had said as his senses had faded far too quickly. 

It wasn’t here for Danya. It was here for Simon, but it would take Danya too.

Danya eyed the glass still gripped in his hand. He was sorely tempted to plunge it into his wrist, to make sure he died before he could be taken. This almost felt like a divine punishment — he had attempted to escape a fate he had been heading towards since birth, and now he would be given over to a worse one.

The screaming, burning energy paused outside the door, and then a key turned in the lock and the door slowly pushed open.

Danya had expected the vampire to look as monstrous as it felt in his mind, but it just looked like a woman. Her eyes were a little too dull, perhaps, her fingernails too sharp, but she didn’t look like an evil being that could tear him apart with her bare hands.

Her eyes tracked over the scene in the room, her gaze passing over the piece of glass in Danya’s hand and settling on the blood dripping from his fingertips. “What happened here, kitten?”

Her voice was human, but too flat. When she took a step forward, Danya stepped back and bumped into the bed. He held the glass out in front of him as a warning.

She held her hands up in pacification and gave him a smile that revealed a hint of fang. “There’s no sense in fighting me. Let me take care of him and then you can come with me. I won’t hurt you.”

Danya swallowed thickly. “You’ll just keep me prisoner and feed off of me.”

Her head quirked to the side. “You’re already a prisoner. You may as well be mine instead.”

“You’re a monster.”

“Oh, child, I am nothing but an undying echo of mankind's sins.” She tried to step forward again, but when Danya tensed she shrugged and sat down on the floor instead. “You run to his arms out of fear of me. Has he really protected you so well?”

Her gaze followed a drop of blood as it dripped from the tip of Danya’s finger onto the floor. She already knew the answer to her question.

Danya’s hands wouldn’t stop shaking. He was afraid he’d drop the glass. “And I suppose you would do better?”

“Hmm.” She tilted her head from side to side, noncommittally. “Maybe. Perhaps there isn’t much room to do worse.”

“Oh, I’m sure.”

“The pleasant thing about vampires is that we’re never a disappointment. You know exactly what you’re getting.” She smiled at him, then let it slowly slip away when he didn’t respond. “The first vampire was a mother, you know.”

Without taking his eyes from the vampire, Danya sat down on the bed and reached back to shake Simon’s shoulder again. He didn’t stir.

“Just a simple peasant, caring for her young children while she waited for her husband to return from war,” the vampire continued. “But he never would, and eventually the war would find its way to her doorstep.”

Danya grabbed Simon by the front of his jacket to shake him again and felt a lump beneath his hand. Suddenly, he remembered the knife, the one Simon had used to cut the collar from around his throat. Had it been silver? Danya had been too concerned about how sharp it had looked to notice. He left it where it was for now.

“She fought, of course, like any mother would, but what chance did she have against armed men? And oh, kitten, the things they did to those children as she lay dying. A monster being monstrous isn’t so scary, but a human who can be so many things choosing to tear apart a child, and enjoying it… that’s the truest evil in this world.”

Danya tucked his hand behind himself so that she’d stop eying the blood glistening on his fingertips. “Well, let’s not get competitive.”

She smiled again, revealing the full length of her fangs. “She was dead by the time the fae found her, but that doesn’t matter to them. They breathed magic into her and gave her one night, dusk until dawn, to find the men who had destroyed everything she loved and make them pay.”