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sp0o0kylights · 1 year ago

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Part One / Part Two (You are Here) / Part Three

A03

Hopper had undersold Harrington's condition.

Wayne hadn't expected anything pretty, but the face that turned to them as they walked through the door almost had him freezing in place.

Black eye, bruised chin, split lip.

More and more bruises, some faded and some very new, trailing down the kids neck.

The rest was hidden by his preppy little polo shirt, but Wayne didn't doubt that there were more.

Harrington tried to stand when they entered the room and the way he moved--entirely unbalanced, clearly in a lot of pain--made Wayne think the only thing the kid really needed was a hospital.

Because Steve Harrington hadn't just been beaten.

He'd been tortured--and very recently strangled.

(Abruptly, Wayne realized that Hopper had implied the boy had been in the mall fire--just as much as he implied the mall fire was anything but.

He also hadn't stated how Harrington had escaped the Suites trying to break into his house.)

"Sit down." Hopper commanded, and Wayne expected Harrington to do anything but listen.

Say something cocky, or act the part of a demanding little shit maybe, despite the condition he was in.

Instead the kid just sighed in relief and dropped like a stone, right back into the chair.

Hopper came around his desk, talking all the while. "Steve, this is Wayne. Wayne, Steve."

"Hello Sir." Steve croaked politely. His voice was wrecked, no doubt from the necklace of finger shaped bruises around his neck.

"You're going to stay with him for a while, and you're gonna pay him for the privilege." Hopper informed him, as he began digging around his desk. "Money, chores, whatever Wayne wants."

Wayne held his gaze as Steve turned to appraise him.

Would Harrington pitch a fit?

Would he look at Wayne's work clothes, streaked with dirt and sweat, with the name of the warehouse embroidered in the corner and crinkle up his nose, just like his daddy did?

Hopper didn't lie, but a part of Wayne wanted to see just how different this Harrington was. If the respectful demeanor was an act done for Hopper.

Or perhaps, Hopper had mentioned Steve's father for a reason, instead of his mother. Did he adopt her ice-like approach to life?

Micro managing and long-held grudges were Stella Harrington’s game, and she excelled at it.

Steve however, did nothing of the sort, instead settling with the situation in a way that reminded Wayne far too strongly of the men and women who'd come home from war.

"Okay." The kid said simply, after a long moment of consideration. He turned back to Hopper. "But we need to tell the rest of the Par--"

Here he cut a look back to Wayne, correcting himself. "the kids. I don't want them showing up at my house trying to find me and freaking out."

"They wouldn't--" Jim paused, fingers freezing from the rummaging they'd been doing. "they absolutely would, goddammit." He muttered darkly.

"I'll tell the kids. The only thing I want you doing right now is laying low. I need to get a hold of Owens, but it's gonna take time to do that, and more time to fix this, so as of right now, Harrington? You're on vacation." He pointed sternly, as if Steve might argue.

The kid looked too tired and messed up to bother trying.

"I mean it. You're out of the country, where is anybody's guess. No one's seen you and no one better be seeing you, got it?" His voice held firm, and Wayne had to blink because the tone here wasn't one of a police chief warning a teenager--but of a father talking to his son.

He knew, because his own voice did that now. Took on a worried tone that masqueraded as something more like annoyance and seriousness.

"Yes, Sir." Harrington said, remaining weirdly compliant. "Consider me gone."

A hand came up to briefly press above one eye, and Wayne wondered if the kid had been looked over, or if they had just crammed him into Hopper's office without offering so much as a tissue box.

How many painkillers did they have back at the house? Wayne usually kept a good bottle around, but Steve was going to need more than that…

He found himself once again cataloging Steve's wounds, this time comparing them to the medicine cabinet he had at home.

"I expect you to be a damn good house guest, you hear me?" Hopper continued, trying to cut a menacing figure. He finally found what he was looking for; pulling out a large, padded envelope.

He handed it over to Harrington, who took it without looking, shoving it into the duffle bag he'd had sitting at his feet.

There was a smudge of red on the handle of said bag, that matched perfectly up to a shittily done wrap on Steve's right hand.

Wayne mentally added 'buy more bandages' to his list.

Steve nodded at Hopper again. "Yes, Sir."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Quite that, you know I hate that."

The briefest glimmer of mischief crossed Harrington's face. "Sorry, Sir. Won't happen again, Sir."

'Ahh.' Wayne thought. 'So there's a teenager in there after all.'

Jim rolled his eyes. "Get out of my office."

"Thanks Hop." Harrington said, finally dropping that odd obedience, a hint of a smile on his battered face.

He stood, and Wayne had to stop himself from offering an arm out as Steve reached for his bag and limped towards him.

He paused right before he left Hopper's office, hand on the doorframe.

"You'll check up on Robin too, right?" He asked, and for the first time his tone took on something more alive--and filled with worry. "And Dustin? Erica?"

"Dustin and his mom are finally taking me up on my suggestion to see their family in Florida for a while, and the Sinclairs are taking a sabbatical from Hawkins. I'm working on the Buckley's." Hopper drummed his fingers on the desk. "So far, no one else besides you and El have been targeted, and we're going to keep it that way."

Steve let out a breath, and while Wayne could tell the worry hadn't left him, he could almost physically see Steve force himself to put it away.

Another act that was far beyond the kid's years.

A different officer popped up as they walked down the hall towards the exit, waving his hand madly. "Harrington! Chief says you forgot this!" He barked.

(Or tried to anyway. Callahan wasn’t the most aggressive of officers and frankly, never would be.)

A slim sports bag was held in his hands, and Steve nearly tripped over his own feet when he tried to turn and claim it.

"I'll get it." Wayne said, knowing his tone sounded gruff.

No use for it. He could either sound gruff or sound sad, and Wayne knew better than to start off the relationship with yet another hurt young man by acting sad.

Pity wasn't gonna win him any favors here.

He took the bag, slinging it over his shoulder, uncaring of the wince on Harrington's face until something sharp poked at his shoulder.

Several somethings, in fact.

"What the hell do you got in this thing?" He asked once they hit the parking lot, voice low as he escorted Steve to his truck.

"Just a baseball bat, sir." Steve said, in the exact same tone Eddie used every time he thought he was bein’ slick.

Considering the thing in the bag could have passed for a baseball bat if not for the sharp pokey bits, it wasn’t a bad attempt. Steve just hadn’t accounted for the fact that Wayne lived with Eddie.

An unfair advantage, really.

‘Least there can’t be any baby racoons in the damn bag.’ Wayne thought idly.

Went on to gently put the bat in the backseat, watching as the kid struggled to lift himself into the truck.

"You can drop that, I take too being called Sir about as well as Hop does." He said, keeping his tone nice and calm, hoping to ease into calling Steve out on his lie.

Fussed with a few dials on the stereo, giving Steve an excuse to take his time before starting the engine and taking the long way home.

Wayne wanted to talk a little-- without the chance of Ed’s interrupting.

"Son,” He started off. “I was born in the morning, but not this morning. I'm hoping to make the next few weeks as easy as I can for both of us, and I can't do that if you're starting off with a lie."

Steve blinked, turning to face him in a matter that was too fast for his injuries. He didn't bother hiding the hurt it caused him, but his voice stayed even as he spoke.

"What do you mean Si--Wayne."

"Nice catch.” Wayne said. “We’ll get you there yet.”

It was a trick he'd learned with Eddie--little tidbits of praise went a long way when it came to gaining trust.

Especially with kids who hadn't ever been given much.

Harrington seemed smart to it, or perhaps was just hesitant to speak in general because he remained quiet, not offering up any info. No further lies, but nothing towards the truth, neither.

Which was fine. Wayne didn’t think a little pushing would hurt.

"That bat of yours was digging into my shoulder like a bee swarm." Wayne continued, when it became clear Steve wasn't talking. "I'm more a fan of football than baseball, but last I checked they hadn't changed the design of a bat."

"What teams?" Steve asked, perking up a touch. "Of football. Which ones are yours?"

Wayne could ignore it of course, or demand Steve give him an answer to the question he asked.

He did neither. "I’m liking the Colts since they got moved here. You?"

"Green Bay Packers, though I like the Colts too--that trade in 84’ was crazy." Steve said. After a second he proved that answering instead of pushing was the right move because he added; "What did Hopper tell you? About…" He trailed off, making a gesture Wayne didn't bother trying to interpret.

"He said some things. I've guessed a few others." Wayne admitted. Cut a little look out of the corner of his eye as he came to a stop sign. "I know the feds are real interested in you after Starcourt."

Steve took that in, hands tightening on the handle.

"It really is a baseball bat." He said, a little fast and with the tiniest hint of that challenge Wayne had been looking for. "It just also has nails hammered into one end."

Wayne took that in with one nice, slow blink.

"A bat with nails in it." He said, and it made a hell of a lot of sense compared to the sensation he'd felt carrying the case. "You use it against anyone?"

"Some of the feds." Steve admitted, and even with his eyes on the road Wayne could tell he was being stared at.

Judged.

Not in the way one expected a rich kid to judge, but in the way Eddie had, those first few months he'd lived here. The times when he'd push, just a little, to see what Wayne's reaction would be.

Eddie hadn't done it in a damn long time, but Wayne recognized the behavior nonetheless.

"Anybody else?" He asked.

"Nobody human." Steve replied.

"Alright." Wayne said, and made a mental note to drop all questions related to that.

He didn't need to know, definitely didn't want to know, and had a feeling if he did know he'd find himself being watched by the same spooks after Steve.

"I've got a few deck boxes that lock on my porch. Think you'd be agreeable to leaving the bat in one?"

Steve paused, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his duffel bag. "If you gave me a key so I could get it in an emergency, I'd be happy to."

He tried to sound calm, even a little charming in that sort of upper-class businessman sort of way, but the fear bled through.

The kid wasn't happy separating from the bat, and given it sounded like it might have saved his life recently, Wayne understood the hesitation.

With an internal apology to Eddie, he promptly threw his nephew under the proverbial bus. "I've got my nephew at home and he'd be far too interested in it, is all. Blades and weapons and such tend to attract him, and I don't need to be rushing anyone to the ER."

All of which were very true facts (one Wayne learned the time he'd allowed Eddie to bring a sword home, only for him to nearly cut his own nose off winging the thing around) but he figured it might make Steve more amenable to separating from it.

Sure enough, some of the tenseness bled out of Steve's shoulders. "Yeah that's fair."

The truck hit a few potholes as they finally turned into the trailer park, and the kid hissed, a quiet sound.

Judging by the uncomfortable wince, and hands clenched into his jeans something painwise was giving him trouble.

"When was the last time you took a pain pill?" Wayne asked, doing his best to weave around the other holes that dotted the gravel roads.

Steve blinked. "Uh…"

"You take any today son?"

Steve his head.

"Didn't have time to grab it." He said, offering a sad look to his pack.

Course he hadn't.

"Let's get you inside then and get you some." Wayne said with a sigh. Thankfully Eddie's van wasn't here--Wayne was fairly certain he had band practice today but knowing him it could be a million other things.

Just meant he had to acclimate Steve as fast as he could, to try and get the poor guy settled before Ed’s came in.

He just hoped life and lady luck would work with him, for once.

#hands on knees #this is gonna have more than three parts fffffff #FAIR WARNING I do jump between Wayne and Eddie’s pov in this.#Everything Ive written so far while in parts for tumblr would basically be chapter 1 on A03 #Eddies POV change would be chapter two #Ugh Im gonna have to put this on A03. Dammit brain.#also I updated this very fast for me #no one get excited Idk the brain is doing #steddie #beat to shit Steve Harrington #wayne pov #outsider pov #wayne as a BAMF #I tried to get to the part where Eddie shows up but it just got too long for a tumblr post #pre steddie #wayne and Hopper both as psuedo parents to Steve #tw injuries #0o0 fanfics #stranger things

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shady-tavern · 2 years ago

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Vampire’s Lullaby Part 2

Part One

Warnings for implied harm and death that happen off-screen. Otherwise, this chapter turned out to be rather soft.

***

The morning came, pale and peaceful and nothing was amiss. If anything, when she passed by the other hunters of their street on her way to work, they were in good spirits. They wished Dion a speedy recovery and told her to talk to them if she or her family needed anything.

She did not walk too fast, as she did all mornings now since saving the monster boy, making sure the shop was bathed in pale light by the time she arrived. It was almost strange, how normal everything was. She set the shop up as usual and greeted Mr. Bell when he arrived.

She had half expected things to go wrong, for some kind of punishment to come down upon her head for mingling with night creatures. Or that the vampire herself was going to do anything. But nothing.

The day passed like any other and that night the vampire was back once more, sitting on the roof and keeping watch. They spoke with each other for a moment and the vampire was polite and even friendly. Annabelle once again fell asleep to soft singing and woke to pale morning light, everyone she knew safe and sound.

A week passed in this manner and Annabelle started to look forward to the nights a little. To how quiet it had become and to the soft bit of conversation she shared with the vampire.

Right up until Mr. Bell sharply called her name during work, startling her out of her focused work.

Hurrying out of the back, she drew to a stop when she saw the man standing on the other side of the counter. Dressed in expensive, embroidered brocade, a necklace heavy with emeralds hanging about his throat and buttons gleaming golden. He must be one of the nobles and he looked very impatient.

His attitude did not improve as they took his order. The baron, as he introduced himself, was less than eager to be here, but apparently he needed to get something done fast and they had been recommended to him. He promised a pay hefty enough that Annabelle nearly gasped out loud and left them with a handful of gems he wanted to be part of the front cover.

"You're a true treasure," Mr. Bell whispered as soon as the baron had left, getting into an equally gleaming and elegant carriage, drawn by two snow-white horses. "You worked so hard even the upper crust heard of us."

Annabelle felt a small, hysterical giggle escape before she bit back the rest. Mr. Bell and she stared at each other, before they both started grinning and bustled into the back, chattering back and forth as they rapidly got to work.

If this man was satisfied or even happy with his order, they might get more expensive clientele. Mr. Bell was singing a cheerful song that usually was usually heard in taverns over an ale and Annabelle joined in, neither of them caring that they were not great singers in the least.

The day passed far too fast and even though Mr. Bell stayed until the final bell of the evening, they weren't quite done with the baron's order yet. The baron wanted to retrieve his book first thing in the morning and while such an order would have been nearly impossible for anyone else, they really wanted to get it done.

"We best get going," Mr. Bell said with great reluctance. "I'm sure we can finish it at dawn."

Annabelle glanced down at the book, then outside, gauging the position of the sun. "I'll finish up and run home," she said. "It should be done in just a few more minutes, right? Half an hour at most, it will still be bright enough that not many night creatures are out and about."

Mr. Bell hesitated, then sighed, "If you are sure?" At her nod he grabbed his things. "Alright, but don't come in first thing in the morning, understood? You deserve to sleep in after all this. And no matter what, your life is more important than money, understood? If you get worried or scared, go home right away."

She couldn't help but smile and nodded, focusing back on the book as he left. It was going to be a beautiful piece, made of dark green, thin leather, embossed with gold letters and decorated with the gems the baron had left them with.

When she was finally done, feeling satisfied and her back cracking as she straightened, she looked up and felt her heart drop into her stomach. It was pitch-dark outside.

How? How had she gotten so lost in her work that she had missed the way light had disappeared, only replaced by the lanterns and candles Mr. Bell had left on. Her mouth turned dust dry.

There was no way she'd get home safe. Maybe, if she was really, really quiet, managed to extinguish all light and hid under her desk, no night creature noticed her in here. Maybe she could hide here and hold out until morning.

The tinkle of the bell of the front door made her flinch and startle onto her feet. Had Mr. Bell not looked the door? Had he left the lights on out in the shop as well?

"Hello?" a woman's voice called out, curious and a little befuddled. "I saw the lights on, are you still in?"

It took her a second to recognize the voice over her panic and pounding heart. It was the vampire she had asked for help. What was she doing here?

"You didn't return home," the vampire continued and Annabelle heard the muffled sound of steps, as though the night creature was walking slowly up and down the shop. "If you are done for the day, I will wait outside for you. Unless you'd like to walk home alone?"

And be eaten? Surely not. "Thank you," she found herself saying, her pounding heart finally easing a bit.

"I told you I'd look after you and yours," the vampire said and Annabelle heard the tinkle of bells. "Those books are beautiful, by the way."

Then the vampire was gone and she exhaled in a rush, sagging a bit as tension drained out of her. Her hands shook a little when she rubbed them over her face, before she reached for her shawl.

She was scared to go outside, but she couldn't stay here. If she stayed, so did the vampire and then who would look after her family? Extinguishing all the lights, she wrapped the shawl tightly around herself and stepped outside.

Nerves made her hands a bit clumsy as she locked the door, glancing around. It was quiet and no street lights were lit in the crossroads, since no one lived here and the city had considered it a waste of resources. It took her a moment to notice the large shadow in the dark, wings half unfolded for balance as the vampire crouched on the ledge of a roof.

"I'm ready," she whispered, shoulders tense and heart still pitter-pattering nervously. She tried to calm down, taking a few deep breaths until she felt less like she was going to scream in fright at the next thing that moved too fast and too unexpectedly.

When she started walking, the vampire followed easily above her. It was surprisingly calm all around and she neither heard nor saw anything. The vampire didn't have to snarl or hiss, just paused once and tensed, clacking her claws warningly against shingles, then moved on like nothing had happened.

It made her wonder how powerful the vampire must be, to so easily command the space she walked through. By the time Annabelle hurried down the main road towards home, she felt...safe. Unexpectedly so, considering she was outside in the dark.

The other hunters of their street were worried and glad to see her, escorting her to the front door of her home and reprimanding her for staying out so long.

"You were very lucky," a rough looking woman said, the one Dion always chatted with while waiting for the sun to disappear. "What would I have said your brother if you got yourself killed while he's not there?"

"It won't happen again," she promised, before the door swung open and her ashen faced mother dragged her inside and into a hug.

Annabelle endured the scolding and worrying of her family and after a quick dinner, she excused herself. She hesitated, then opened the window.

"Miss Vampire?" she whisper-called, leaning forward a bit.

When the vampire appeared, upside down, between one moment and the next, she bit back a startled scream by the skin of her teeth. Instead she inhaled sharply and flinched back a step, pressing her heart over her chest.

"Was that necessary?" she found herself gasping out, glaring at the vampire who tilted her head, mouth opening into an impish grin and wings twitching. "You're impossible." She took a calming, deep breath. "But, thank you, for bringing me home safe."

The vampire chittered at her almost softly, then waved a hand towards her bed in a shooing motion.

But Annabelle was a bit too awake now to consider sleeping. Instead she lit a candle and glanced between the clothes she had to mend and the book she had intended to read. With a soft sigh she reached for thread and needle first. Work before pleasure, her parents had always said.

A tap of claws against iron made her glance over and the vampire was gesturing at the book. Did she wish to read it? Annabelle hesitated, then picked it up.

"Return it to me before you leave," she said as she walked to the window. "Treat it well, please. Books mean a great deal to me."

The vampire took the book with visible care and disappeared. Annabelle turned back to her sewing, when she heard the vampire's voice, clear and close enough that she must be right above the window on the roof. Reading the book out loud.

Annabelle sat still for a long minute, then she found herself smiling a little and started to sew. Two chapters in however, the vampire had clear opinions on the book.

"Is this considered romantic?" her voice was full of disbelief and offense. She pitched her voice, re-reading a sentence she had just read out loud, "'Not to say you aren't beautiful, however this hair style simply does not match you.' Who asked for this fool's opinion?"

Annabelle had to bite back a startled laugh and she couldn't help but agree. The book was dreadful. However, as the vampire continued reading it genuinely got better from there. Not because the book got better, but because those affronted comments were quite funny and very amusing.

The vampire got increasingly more offended at the contents of the book and Annabelle found herself laughing at last, quickly clapping a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

"I'll bring you one of my books," the vampire groused, audibly thumbing through the book at rapid pace. "Three hundred pages of this nonsense? How are you still sane?"

"I haven't read it yet," Annabelle answered, mirth bright in her voice and that was when she realized that she had stopped being afraid.

Somewhere between being guarded for a week, being brought home safe and being read to in an increasingly incredulous, pained manner, she had stopped fearing for herself. "I have another one you could read instead," she offered.

Instead of answering, a pale hand appeared at the top of the window, still holding the book with care. The vampire wore a delicate gold ring and a golden bracelet studded with topaz. The long sleeve that fell down to nearly her wrist was black with pale, shimmering embroidery.

Annabelle took hold of the book and traded it with one Mr. Bell had given her a couple of days ago. She settled down again as the vampire began to read and she seemed far happier with this book. In all honesty, Annabelle enjoyed this tale far more as well.

She listened to the story of a young boy who found a lost star and their journey to bring the star back home. It was the first time in far too long that an evening truly felt peaceful.

It was quiet outside, no monsters to be heard and the breeze drifting inside was cool and brought with it a refreshing scent.

Had the world been like this once upon a time? Before the dark had to be feared like it was feared today? Had there been a time when people sat together to read and chat beneath the starry sky? She had only heard about such things in stories and in this moment, she couldn't help but dream of a world so different to her own.

Something gentler, something almost peaceful. She wasn't foolish or naive enough to believe danger would disappear forever just because she wished it, but there had to be a way to make the world better than it was now.

"May I have your name?" she asked when she finished mending and the vampire paused, having read the last sentence of the book. "I would like to call you something."

The vampire hummed softly, thoughtful, but answered, "I'm Charlette, and who are you, sweet human that I guard?"

Feeling a little surprised and quietly flattered at those unexpected words, Annabelle hurriedly put away her needle and thread. "I'm Annabelle and I can honestly say that it is nice to get to know you."

Charlette chuckled. "You're the first human to say so." Annabelle heard her close the book. "Are those the sort of stories you enjoy reading?"

"Among others." Annabelle leaned back, her chair creaking softly. "I mostly love stories with happy endings."

Charlette hummed thoughtfully. "I see. I think I can find some of those." Her arm appeared at the top of the window again. "Here, I quite enjoyed this one."

Annabelle accepted her book and her breath caught in her chest when her fingertips brushed Charlette's accidentally. She was cool, but no colder than Annabelle's hands would be if she were outside right now.

"Why do you night creatures hate us so much?" The question slipped out unbidden in a soft whisper.

"I don't hate you," the vampire answered without a moment's hesitation. Then she added, "I've never had much of a problem with humans."

"Then what have we done to earn such wrath from the others? So much bloodshed and death?"

Charlette was quiet for a long moment. "I've heard rumors," she answered at last. "That humans killed the Night King."

That was the first time Annabelle heard of such a thing. "Who was the Night King?"

"A powerful and old night walker," Charlette answered. "You wouldn't find them anywhere anymore, he was the last one. I don't really know what he was like, but I know that the night folk felt safe under his protection. I don't really know much else, I haven't been long in the city and I lived in a remote, rather isolated place before that."

Annabelle frowned to herself in thought, absentmindedly tracing the letters of the storybook. "Is there a way to find out what happened? Or how to change what's happening?"

Charlette hummed, a strange, inhuman note underlying the noise. "I could look into it, if you'd like," she offered and Annabelle heard the faint tink of claws tapping thoughtfully on shingles.

"You would?" Annabelle couldn't stop the hope from singing through her voice.

There was a soft, near chirping kind of noise. "I find I'm...I quite like you, Annabelle. It won't be much trouble to bug some acquaintances or to poke around."

Relief made her feel lighter than she had in years. She peered out the window, though she saw nothing of the vampire. There wasn't even a shadow to watch tonight, not with clouds gathering in the sky and quiet disappointment shadowed the relief. She would have liked to see her face right now. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Charlette shifted on the roof and a moment later, Annabelle saw half of an elegant, black shoe dangling into view, along with the hem of a black dress, studded in clear crystals.

"Would you like anything in exchange?" Annabelle asked, finding herself leaning forward a bit and peering up, as though she could finally spot a glimpse of the vampire's face. "I would owe you a great deal if you could uncover this mystery."

And possibly bring an end to all the death and pain and horror.

Charlotte chuckled, low and darkly amused. "That's a dangerous promise to make to my kind. What if I'd like a sip of your blood? All your good dreams for a year? An invitation to your house so I can feed on you and your family while you sleep?"

Annabelle frowned, head tipping to the side. She didn't feel worried, not when Charlette had never done anything to her or threatened such a thing.

"I don't think you would." She swallowed and stood up straighter, even if there was no one to see her posture. "Not if I asked you not to."

This time the chuckle sounded less dark. "You seem to have me figured out. Then I'll think about what I'll ask for," Charlette answered, then her voice turned mock-dry and she sighed theatrically, "Since eating you is so evidently off the table."

Annabelle had no idea why that made her laugh, the sound quickly muffled by the hand she lifted to her mouth, half horrified at herself for liking such a macabre joke. It seemed Dion wasn't the only one in the family to enjoy such humor.

"I'd be pleased to find them all alive in the morning, thank you very much," she answered.

"Then you shall." Charlette sounded both amused and unexpectedly sincere. "I would hate to never hear your laugh again."

Annabelle felt surprised and touched at those words and found herself biting back a smile, lifting the book as though to hide her face from prying eyes. She hadn't known that night creatures, no, the night folk, could be so...sweet. Strange and frightening, yes, but also sweeter than she had thought. And kinder.

She didn't know what to say to that, lightly clearing her throat. "Well, if you keep doing what you're doing I guess I'll be laughing more in no time."

"Oh, consider it done," Charlette answered in a near purring tone that made heat gentle rise to her cheeks. "I don't think I could spend my nights any better than I currently do."

Flustered and flattered and having no idea what to do with any of those feelings, Annabelle shuffled away from the window.

"Speaking of night, it's, um, it's pretty late. I think I'll head to bed now," she said, pressing wind-cool fingertips against her heated face. "Good night."

She hurried to get ready for bed, accompanied by Charlette's quiet, throaty laugh.

"Good night," Charlette said as she slid beneath the sheets. "I'll keep watch until sunrise."

Curling up beneath the blankets, Annabelle kept watching the window. "Thank you." Ever since the vampire was there, Annabelle had felt safer than ever. Had slept better than ever.

When Charlette started to sing, the song was quiet and soft and Annabelle fell asleep, silently wishing the vampire could stay forever. Could be here every night, even once Dion was all healed up.

.*.*.*.

Annabelle visited Dion the next morning, using Mr. Bell's order to show up late to drop by the clinic first.

"Is everyone well?" her brother asked in a heavy voice, while looking as though he was going to fall asleep again at any moment. "Mama and Papa don't seem to be very alright."

Their parents looked worn and tired and Annabelle worried they weren't sleeping well. Her other brothers were quiet and withdrawn, faces tense and marred with deep frowns. It made her wish she could tell them that she had a deal, a promise, of safety from a vampire. At least until Dion was fully healed.

They would not react well to that at all, however. She'd be dragged to the priests right away, to make sure she hadn't been thralled or otherwise influenced. Someone would then stake out in her room to try and kill Charlette. The very thought made her stomach clench and her heart ache.

"They're fine," she reassured Dion, offering a calming smile.

She quickly distracted him by telling him about everything that had happened yesterday. She had visited him on her free day last, her parents and older brothers dropping by more often, since they were a bit more flexible with their time.

Halfway through her tale about the baron's visit, his eyes fell closed and his breathing deepened into slumber. Annabelle exhaled quietly and smoothed an edge of the blanket down. Sunlight shone through the windows, the bars casting thin shadows across his sickbed.

Her mind kept snagging at what Charlette had told her last night. The hope that had been ignited within her that this horror could end. That Dion could heal and go home and never again would he or anyone else be forced to pick up cold, hard iron in order to keep their loved ones alive.

She got up after another minute. Dion was fast asleep and he would remain like this for a while. He needed his rest. She left with a polite, grateful goodbye to Dr. Under, who waved her off with a vague noise, taking care of another injured hunter.

Mr. Bell was bustling around the shop when she arrived, in high spirits and praising her for how beautiful the book had turned out. The baron showed up an hour later, turning his ordered book this way and that, sniffing in acceptance, somehow simultaneously looking satisfied and not happy at all. He handed over more money than Annabelle had ever seen at once.

"It will do," the baron said in parting, sweeping outside as he added, "I think I shall be back."

Mr. Bell and she watched him leave with wide eyes, before they looked down at the money, at each other and then they were giggling like children, excited and almost speechless.

"Look at this!" Mr. Bell exclaimed, immediately starting to divide up the money. When he handed her what he said he owed her, she felt her breath catch. That was more than they had agreed upon first.

"You'll be able to hire a hunter now, while your brother heals," Mr. Bell said with a smile, waving off her sputtering protests. "We can always buy another printing press later, don't you worry. Besides, I'm sure we'll see that sour fellow again sooner or later."

She felt her eyes sting a little and couldn't help but pull Mr. Bell into a hug, who laughed and gave her a grandfatherly pat on the shoulder.

"Now, none of that, you hear me? There is no need for tears. Besides, we have more than enough work to take care of."

She nodded, sniffling once and pulled back, quickly pocketing the money before she took a deep breath and got to work with renewed determination. Mr. Bell chuckled and sat down at his desk, humming a soft, happy tune under his breath.

It was a good day and they kept working in high spirits, the other clients who dropped by to pick up their orders remarking on the good atmosphere. Mr. Bell left as he always did, a spring in his step and he told her not to stay too long, that she deserved to go home early as well.

Annabelle sang to herself as she finished up the last work of the day, the bell of the clock tower warning her about the setting sun. But for once she didn't feel scared, didn't startle into a flurry of hurried motions in order to get home in time.

She cleaned up and locked the door and went home with a smile on her face, nodding at people along the way and wishing neighbors a good night. The hunters on their street waved at her and she waved back.

Her family looked exhausted when she arrived, but they were glad to see her happy.

"We're safe," she tried to reassure them. "Everyone says they'll keep an eye out until Dion's back."

Guilt ate at her like sharp teeth when she kept the money she had made a secret. She wanted to save it, for when Dion was healthy again and Charlette wouldn't watch their house anymore. She wanted to buy her brother some more restful time if possible.

Charlette didn't show up that night, to her surprise. Instead, Annabelle heard a rumbly sort of growl and looked up, inhaling sharply in startled surprise.

"It's alright, you're safe," the large werewolf across from her on the other roof said quickly. "Charlette asked me to keep watch tonight."

Then the werewolf straightened, ears perked and placed a hand on its chest. "Thank you," it said with utter sincerity. "For saving my son."

Oh, this was the boy's mother. Now that she took a closer look, her heart calming back down from it's frightened beat, she did recognize the werewolf.

"You're both well?" she couldn't help but ask, remembering the limp, whimpering and bleeding lump the werewolf had been in Charlette's arm.

Those ears flicked once and the werewolf grinned, making her look even more frightening and fearsome, but her yellow eyes held a spark of warmth. "We are. He's been talking about you, you know. Says he forgot to ask you if you liked his picture."

"I did," Annabelle slowly, cautiously approached the window. Just because Charlette hadn't hurt her didn't mean other night folk wouldn't take the chance when they got it. "He seems to be a sweet kid."

"He is." The werewolf preened in pride, then settled down, looking relaxed. "And don't worry," she said, a growl slipping into her voice. "I'll keep you lot safe." She snorted, amused. "Not that I'm necessarily needed here, considering Charlette thoroughly claimed this area. But she said you'd feel safer if I was there."

Annabelle felt her heart warm at those words, a smile tugging at her mouth. "That's sweet of her."

"She can be," the werewolf agreed, elbow on her thigh and chin resting in her palm. "But only if she likes someone. My son and I were the only ones she cared for for a long time, so I'm glad to see she's found someone else whose company she enjoys."

Annabelle's smile grew. "Well, the feeling is mutual. Tell her I'll miss her and that I hope she's safe. And thank you, for being here."

The werewolf grinned again and this time it looked a little less frightening. "She'll be very happy to hear that. And of course, after you saved my son and made Charlette's nights better, it's the least I could do. But don't let me keep you up if you're tired."

It was probably for the best to get some rest. "Good night. Oh, if any of the hunters notice you, just leave, they won't abandon the houses they protect."

The werewolf nodded. "I'll be careful not to be spotted, but they don't have to fear me either way. I never hurt people who don't try to kill my family first."

Fair enough, Annabelle would not act very kindly or sweetly if someone tried to harm those she loved in front of her eyes. She got ready for bed and decided to leave the window open, in case the werewolf needed to get her attention for something.

When she laid in bed, she found she struggled to fall asleep. It was simultaneously too quiet and not quiet enough. There was no pleasant singing, no vampire on her roof and somehow that absence was loud in the gentle, calm of the night.

She fell asleep after long minutes of staring up at the dark ceiling, trusting in a promise being kept and a fierce werewolf guarding the house.

.*.*.*.

It took three nights before Charlette came back. By then Annabelle had gotten to know the werewolf, whose name was Ophelia.

Since Charlette had apparently claimed this part of the city as hers, Ophelia pretty much had nothing to do. They had ended up talking quite a bit with each other as a result and Annabelle had put books on her windowsill for Ophelia to read.

Still, Annabelle had missed the vampire, had missed her company and singing and the steady, calm and unshakeable safety she brought with her presence alone.

It had been a bit of a shock at first, to realize just how fond she had grown of Charlette. How there was a quiet sting of disappointment every night she saw Ophelia instead of her, even if she liked the werewolf.

"Welcome back," Annabelle said when she saw the large bat land quietly, a glad smile appearing on her face before she knew it.

"Finally," Ophelia said with good humor, leaning closer to Annabelle since she was sitting right across from her on the edge of the roof. The werewolf lifted a hand in front of her face to mock-whisper, "This one's pinning had gotten bad."

Pinning? Annabelle barely had a moment to properly process that, before Charlette tackled the werewolf straight off the roof and into the alley. There was growly laughter and hissing and startled shouts from a nearby hunter.

The two night folk quickly fell quiet after the hunter's warning yells and a few moments later, Ophelia hopped back onto the roof, while Charlette appeared suddenly in front of Annabelle, hanging upside-down in front of her window.

Annabelle smiled again, not even startling a little. Others probably considered this to be the height of foolishness, but she didn't fear Charlette. She didn't even find her nightmarish bat-form terrifying anymore. Oh, she knew Charlette was still frightening, that she could rip any human apart like wet paper, but Annabelle didn't think it was going to happen. Not to her, at any rate.

"I hope you're well?" she asked and Charlette swiftly ducked out of sight again, her voice answering a moment later.

"I am. I hope my friend took good care of you?"

"I'll take offense to that," Ophelia answered dryly. "But I'll forgive you this once. Now, please excuse me you two, you can make moon-eyes at each other without me having to bear witness."

With a jovial wave, the werewolf left, easily hopping across roofs and Annabelle heard a soft, aggrieved grumble from Charlette.

"Meddling friends," the vampire muttered.

"I wouldn't know," Annabelle found herself saying, Charlette falling silent. "I haven't really had a friend in years."

Not since their old neighbors had moved away when she had been twelve. After that it had been hard to connect with others and nowadays she spent all day at work and was locked up at home afterwards. It didn't leave much time for socializing and the few times people had flirted with her at work hadn't really led to anything.

"We could be friends," Charlette offered. "And Ophelia likes you as well, she said as much every time she came back at dawn. I'm pretty sure she already considers you her friend."

"Are other humans and night folk friends as well?" Annabelle asked, genuinely curious. Charlette and Ophelia couldn't be the only nice night folk in the world, after all. "I've never heard of such a thing."

Charlette huffed, amused and wry all at once. "Of course not. From what I could gather, you humans don't take well to such connections. But there are a couple of friendships and relationships across the city."

There were? So she wasn't strange or alone in not hating or fearing the night folk? Or rather, Charlette and Ophelia. She still feared the others and what they could do.

"Speaking of which," Charlette continued before Annabelle could answer. "I think I found out what happened to the Night King and why there is such carnage now."

Annabelle stepped forward, fingertips brushing the windowsill. "Please tell me."

"It's not pretty," Charlette warned, then continued, "The night folk demand revenge for the murder of their king. Until the price is paid in blood, there will be no peace."

Annabelle knotted her fingers together in worry. "I understand that, but it isn't fair to punish all of us for the transgression of a few." Then she frowned heavily. "And it's been so long already since the attacks started, the ones who did it are most likely already dead."

A moment of heavy silence followed. "I forgot," Charlette murmured, an unhappy note to her voice. "You humans don't live all that long."

"We live plenty long enough," Annabelle answered, feeling a little affronted. "It's you lot who live a ridiculous amount of time."

Charlette huffed a gentle, amused noise. "I guess you're not wrong."

Annabelle felt her lips twitch into a small smile, before it fell again. "Is there something that can be done?" she asked softly. "To make the night folk stop?"

Charlette exhaled heavily, almost sighing. "Someone strong enough could." She sounded reluctant now. "Once someone seizes control and calms the frenzy, things could change."

"Why won't anyone do that?" Annabelle found herself staring up, as though she could will Charlette into view to look straight at her. "Hasn't this gone on long enough?"

"It doesn't feel that long to them," Charlette answered. "Many night folk have fallen into mindless bloodlust and they cannot regain their senses by themselves anymore. There are only a small handful left who could take control, but they like to eat and drink as much as they please. They like terrifying humans too much to stop."

Annabelle was silent for a long moment, arms wrapped around herself in a imitation of a hug. "So this is it?" she found herself whispering. "We just have to endure this until one of the strong night folk decide they've enjoyed themselves enough? Or until they've killed us all?"

A low snarl curled through the air. "I would not let them," Charlette answered, voice hard. "Nothing will happen to you."

"I believe you." She really did. "But...this is no way to live, Charlette. To cower and hide and...and just endure until I'm old and frail and at last my bones return to the earth."

She felt exhausted and bitterness wrapped around her like a too-heavy cloak. Annabelle closed her eyes, trying to fight back the burn of tears. Weeping wouldn't change anything, no matter how much she wanted to cry.

Shattered hope was a horrible feeling, she realized as she stared down at her hands, cold and ink stained. She had only realized how fiercely she had hoped for an end for all of this now that there was nothing to be done. All she could do now was endure and that...that was no way to live, was it?

Charlette was silent for so long that Annabelle started to get ready for bed, her heart a heavy weight in her chest and her mood dreary and dark. She just wanted to lie down and not get up for a long while. She blew out the candle, casting the room in darkness when the vampire spoke up.

"You're right." Charlette's voice was soft. "I want more for you. And better."

Annabelle swallowed past her dry mouth as Charlette added, "That is really no life worth living."

Annabelle made a quiet, slightly rough sound in agreement. She couldn't keep living like this for the rest of her days. Frightened, small, scurrying. Scraping together what coin she could, working herself to the bone during the day, only to be terrified of all that came at night. Worrying she'd bury her brother, then her parents, then her other older brothers, until she was all that was left.

Even if Charlette would guard them all her days, something could always happen. Besides, other people still died. She would see the blood in her way to work, would see the haunted faces of hunters who stared at the sun like it was pure salvation.

"I'd do anything for things to change," Annabelle found herself saying, voice hollow and tinged in bitter sadness.

"A dangerous promise." Charlette's voice was soft and utterly devoid of teasing. "Don't give that promise to someone else, they'll ask for things you won't wish to give."

"Like what? My blood? My beating heart?" She'd give both if it meant the night folk stopped their rampage.

"No." Charlette sounded grim. She was quiet for a second, then asked, "Would you invite me in, Annabelle?"

"I think the bars are in the way." She wouldn't go and unlock the door, not when Gerard was still awake and weaving and Charlette could be seen entering the house by one of the hunters.

Charlette huffed, darkly amused. "Those are child's play. They don't keep me out, but I cannot enter a home I'm not invited to. No vampire can."

She hadn't known that, but it explained all the warnings to never answer any luring, sweet calls. And why one should never get thralled. Did she want Charlette in the house? In her room?

She did, she realized. She felt so cold and hopeless, she wished to at least finally see Charlette's face. Annabelle turned towards the window.

"Charlette, I invite you into my home, please enter," she said, soft but clear. A moment later that elegant hand came into view and slowly, steadily, pried the bars out of the brickwork.

Charlette was careful enough to avoid making a noticeable amount of noise, taking the time to wriggle the bars out bit by bit, until she could pull them away entirely. Annabelle found her heart beating a little faster. She had never invited anyone into her room since she had been twelve and her friend had left.

A moment later, a tall shape dropped onto the windowsill. For as much as Charlette looked like a human now, she did not move like one. There was a predator's grace as she smoothly stepped inside, feet utterly silent on the floor. Only her long dress made a soft sound as the fabric fell down to her ankles.

Charlette stood with a confidence Annabelle had rarely seen, something unshakeable and true. The vampire knew she was powerful and dangerous and saw no need in proving either by needlessly puffing herself up. For everyone else would know she was dangerous by simply looking at her.

"You don't look at me anymore as though I'm frightening," Charlette said, voice soft and clear and she took slow steps closer, bridging the distance between them.

There was just enough light cast by the moon outside for her to see her face. She was beautiful, her red hair long and her eyes the color of blood.

Annabelle looked up at the vampire, who stopped in front of her. "I don't fear you."

"I'm glad." Charlette's voice softened further, gentling into a near whisper. "I like seeing you happy."

Annabelle found herself smiling a little, almost shyly. "I think I owe you a favor," she said softly. "For finding out what you could about the Night King."

Charlette was quiet for a moment and Annabelle saw the the humorless smile appear on her face. "There is one thing I would ask, but not now. I think I need to earn a bit more of a favor for that."

Surprised, Annabelle tipped her head a little, trying to see her face better in the dark. "What do you mean?"

Charlette didn't answer and instead reached out, hand hovering near Annabelle's face without touching her. "May I?"

Annabelle felt her heart beat a little faster now, realizing it did so in the best of ways. "Yes." Her voice was quiet but clear in the silence of her room and the quiet of the calm night outside.

Gently, almost reverently, Charlette's cool hand settled on her cheek. "I don't think you know how much you captivated me," the vampire said softly, red eyes warm where her skin was not. "Your bravery, your laugh, your sweetness. How fearless you are and how much I enjoy speaking with you."

A cool thumb brushed along her cheekbone ever so gently. "I want to ask for something very brazen," Charlette continued in a near whisper. "Once I earn more of your good graces."

"You could ask now," Annabelle answered just as quietly, eyes caught by that blood-red gaze and she tipped her head a little, turning her cheek into that sweet touch. "Because I don't think you realize how much I enjoy your company, how fond I've grown of you."

This time, when Charlette smiled, it revealed a hint of fangs that would have looked frightening to Annabelle in the past. Now she was merely curious, knowing she had nothing to fear.

"What if I asked for a kiss?" Charlette said. "One you want to give me because you like me, not because you feel indebted."

"Then I'd say you should kiss me," Annabelle whispered back, her heart beating faster in excited anticipation. "If you like me as much as I like you."

"Oh, of that there is no doubt," Charlette breathed the words more than she said them, leaning in and Annabelle rose up on her toes. Long, soft hair brushed her cheek before lips ghosted across hers for just a moment. She smelled like fresh air and something soft and sweet, like flowers.

Before Charlette could pull back, Annabelle rose to her very tiptoes, pressing their lips together gently. Her hands came up, one lightly touching Charlette's arm and the other reaching up to cup her face, fingertips lightly tangling into silk-soft hair.

"Will you let me court you?" Annabelle asked in a soft whisper, opening her eyes. Charlette looked almost unbearably soft and it squeezed her heart in the best of ways.

Charlette laughed, quiet and brief and achingly fond. "I think I'm meant to ask you that. If you allow me to court you as well, I will gladly say yes."

Annabelle found herself grinning, the previous heaviness of her mood gentled and lightened, even if it wasn't gone entirely.

Charlette brushed a feather light kiss against the corner of her mouth, as though tasting her smile, before pressing another one to her forehead. She then gently rested their foreheads together, free hand rising to take Annabelle's, tangling their fingers together.

"I think I know what to gift you," Charlette said. "If you're willing to accept something intangible."

Now that made her curious. "Of course." She gave Charlette's fingers a little squeeze. "I think I have an idea for a gift as well."

They smiled at each other for a long moment, until Annabelle had to pull back, hiding a yawn behind her hand. Charlette smiled softly, brushing fingertips over her hair.

"Rest, my love," she said. "I will stay until dawn."

"Can you sing for me?" Annabelle asked. "I find I sleep better if you do."

Charlette's eyes seemed brighter, now a liquid red. "Of course."

And sing she did and when Annabelle woke in the morning, she found a red rose lying on her desk, on top of a letter.

A letter that held the promise to change everything.

.*.*.

Part Three.

#my writing #short story #chapter two #vampires #lesbians #can you tell that I squished all the soft into this chapter?#it's rather less dark than part one #but we still got part three ahead of us #which will be the last part for these two #they be lesbians Harold #I'll be honest with you I suck at writing flirting scenes #these two made me despair #hope this part turned out well!#and that I didn't overlook too many spelling errors #part three should be up either at the end of this week or early next week #dark fantasy

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