“This is only the first stop, Remi, it shall take more than a night to arrive where we ought to start. If you please, try not to kill anyone here, I’m not nearly as familiar to this place.”
“Fascinating that you had that connection to the last town which garnered us such worthy gratitude and hospitality from the locals.”
Remi straightened his waistcoat as he stared around the stone square where they stood. Harry paid the wagon driver with some reluctance and patted the horse on its way, feeling a relief that was only duly described as infinite.
“...Quite.”
Remi stretched, feeling more than one twinge that promised redemptive difficulties with movement as soon as the pain medications wore off. Harry, though usually fond of watching, concentrated more on clearing his head, and letting his abused senses revel in air not laden with ...
He massaged his temples with his hand.
“Are you quite certain you aren’t very familiar to this quaint town, Harry?”
Harry tried his damnedest, which of course, was very damned indeed, not to sigh, “I have indeed visited at great length, but I can’t call upon...er... quite the same...”
“Impressive diplomatic fervor?” Remi supplied.
If he were not absolutely certain that Remi had no idea what he done to get them out of that mess, he would’ve suspected sarcasm. All the better for Remi that Harry’s faith in Remi’s guile was somewhat lacking. Catty comments swallowed, Harry pondered that he hadn’t thought it was possible for him to get headaches. He hadn’t gotten one for untold decades, but this was certainly starting to feel like one.
“Yes, indeed. And, I am sure you’re aware that it will be very soon that we should actually find ourselves out of the potentially day-lit areas of town, such as this square.”
“Yes,” Remi smiled, still starting off down a random alley, “It’s a magnificent square as well. However, I do enquire about familiarity for more practical reasons.”
Harry went all out on this one, and even managed to get Remi to tear his eyes off of whatever shiny object it was distracting him with a full sigh-eyeroll-forehead-in-hand gesture.
“I believe I have related to you that there is absolutely no way that London could possibly be on the way to Cambridge when one is coming from Bristol, correct?”
“Yes, but...”
“...and that in spite of your awfully piquant observation that ‘it’s quite small’, England has rather a number of people, and habitations for people, in it?”
“Well, yes, but...”
“And will you forget about what they said in Wales? Thank God you landed in the only place in the whole country you’d fit right in...”
Remi cocked his head to the side.
“Is not the name of the Lord bitter to your foul tongue? I though your rather disliked Wales, you said it was full of sheepfu-.”
“Do you think we could focus on finding a place to stay that is a not a square surely to be flooded by daylight in an hour or two?”
“Well, yes, which is why I was asking.”
Remi pouted, an impressive expression to achieve on a man covered over in enough threatening-looking pointy bits of wood that one would keep him away from fireplaces as a sort of ordinary precaution. Seeing that Harry didn’t interrupt (and obviously somewhat disarmed by the fact) Remi cleared his throat, setting himself in what he must have thought was a heroic pose, pointing off in the distance.
“For if thou didst have some friend in this place, then I would hesitate... like so... before striking down yonder blight on nature that approacheth up yon alley.”
Harry, having noticed no such threat, briefly assumed that Remi’s numerous muddling medications had some kind of second wind, but only briefly. Remi had, after all, pulled out the ‘-eths’ and ‘yons’ he reserved for pitched battle.
Harrys’ caution was rewarded in that he was able to stay still when he heard a high pitched noise – a slight and mirthless laugh, sliding into a giggle one might expect to hear from an a mad tyrant, bloodthirsty siren, or some such other (actually) damned creature of legend – a sound that brought on such unpleasant sensations...
“Why, Harry, my dear, I was beginning to think you’d never visit!”
Looking at Harry, Remi concluded that there was going to be no immediate answer; the look on Harry’s face was not one that Remi was used to seeing – Harry had assured him he had been born pale enough that undeath couldn’t possibly pale him further, but Harry sure did look pale. On a living human person, Remi might interpret such pallor and such an expression to mean that his vampire friend had just received a severe shock.
Once again Remi was forced to confront a profound ignorance of the chosen prey of his profession, as he had been pretty sure that the ever-damned-and-undying didn’t really get shocked. Though he wasn’t sure why. It just didn’t seem logical.
Remi did not rely on logic so much as zeal, but that wasn’t currently available either. Potent doctoring and his several injuries didn’t dim his zeal exactly but it made it rather less likely he would survive exercising his zeal as he normally would and he was concerned something was wrong with Harry. Joyful day that he scrape some redemption from his noble death in the battle against evil, but, you know, he couldn’t just leave Harry in in danger (potentially?), could he?
It was not at all clear (ultimately Harry was damned night beast, and Remi really ought to kill him, or at least think about it more, though he didn’t particularly like to).
Luckily, the more imminent threat of the stranger meant Remi wasn’t required to consider deeply his assuredly grossly sinful temporary companionship with THIS Satanic blood-wight because of the approach of THAT Satanic blood-wight.
Indeed, Remi hoped Harry would recover soon. The figure approached, half his face in shadow, the ominous orange light from the lamps scattered about the street lending to pale skin no color, but a sort of striated definition, as it made the black hiding the subtle curve of jaw and neck, brow and cheek, curved smiling lips and devilish mouth more defined than either pure light or abyssal dark could. The only color he brought (for he was definitely a he, though perhaps more sold to Satan’s side for grace than obvious virility) was the deep red silken shimmer of his fine cravat and the pure-water blue of his amuséd eyes.
The (evil) stranger had said Harry’s name.
Harry had yet to respond
Remi strove against tension. He had to conclude there was the potential the (cursed) newcomer should not be stabbed. Remi had made a promise.
Again: logic. This logic he let go on in his mind, pacing through all of the reasons why this (black-souled) stranger should not be stabbed because of Harry, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera, while Remi’s more useful faculties focused on more important things, like readying for battle and their potential deaths.
“Can you vouch for this hell-beast, Harry?” Remi asked, stake raised on high.
The (wicked) stranger’s eyes, though able to dissemble themselves with light intention, had not wavered from Remi, which was exactly Remi’s intention. Should they fight, Remi undoubtedly wanted to be the focus (Harry, endowed by his devilish existence with strength and speed beyond that of mortal men, was nonetheless a slight and particular person, especially about where blood got on his clothing).
The (devilish) stranger pulled his shoulders up as he walked, more of his finery exposed to the light of the lamps and the rising threat of dawn. He let them fall again in what might, were he a less manly figure, be described as a flirtatious sigh.
“Oh, my, we’re have to be introduced.”
Remi was starting to grow nervous. He was as susceptible as the rest of his worthy Brotherhood, and indeed humanity in general, to a certain degree of panicked fear of his life. He was also beginning to fear that he would haul off and stake someone before things were really decided, and that would upset Harry (as it had many times before). It was an enormously bad time for Harry to decide he needed to fix minute problems with his clothes, as he was doing now with a sort of slow deliberation that brought to mind visiting a rich and dying aunt.
Remi was torn. Harry seemed to be entirely uninterested in whether or not Remi stabbed this person who knew him, and yet, he had been very concerned over the last few hours about who Remi stabbed, obviously evil or not. Every step the new vampire took was making stabbing harder to resist. The sound of shoes on pavement made Remi jump. Pretty soon he would start throwing oregano.
“I would be most glad to introduce you to the beyond, devil-born scum,” Remi returned, now seriously debating the pros and cons of having Harry angry at him for killing someone he might-not-ought-to’ve. After all, last time, things came out okay.
The foreshortened sound of the new vampire’s single clap echoed like a gunshot across the square and nearly caused Remi to stab his own heart lest the damn thing turn on him and attack. For not the last time he wondered how often his brethren were killed and how often they merely died of stress.
The vampire took full advantage of their surprise and grew several steps closer without seeming to run (God, how their ability to do that annoyed Remi. He was apt to stab out of sheer indignance, now). Now his entire figure was betrayed by light.
He looked not older than Harry – even some years his junior, though perhaps that was attributable to a more mischievous face: rounded and smiling like a fallen cherub, with all the incongruous points and protrusions quite commonly found in the natural nosferatu. He had broad shoulders that Remi had to imagine would have been reassuring to rest on, had not the rest of his figure the grace (and obvious fineness) of a dancer. The sly curve to his lips was partly natural, as they were soft and round as a lady’s, and with a less defined jaw might have made him appear feminine. He did have a very nice jaw. And a very nice smile.
He was, unfortunately, very handsome.
Finding the (very… bad) stranger revealed, Remi’s heart, though once so intent on attacking him, now double-crossed him more viciously with a fluttering, pattering beat. Remi was used to this, and used to fighting it down, but still, it would be much more worthwhile if he also got to stab somebody soon. It worked off some frustration.
Remi glanced again at Harry, whose face betrayed no emotion, and considered again the appearance of this new vampire. The new had blonde hair, curled only a little, after the style of the time, carried off with a messy, affable demeanor like a newly-raised schoolboy. He had a more courteous style, without the distance of manners, as if they were already friends or soon would be, if only Remi would put down the stake and stop feeling the persistent need to forever end his life with peppering gouts of stolen blood.
Harry still hadn’t moved.
The new vampire was moving.
Harry should move.
The new vampire was smiling more.
Remi was starting to feel itchy, and Harry hadn’t made any sign.
The new vampire didn’t seem worried – they rarely were, but they even more rarely appeared so affably curious.
Remi’s raised arm was starting to cramp. As the vampire approached, Remi focused very hard on not moving.
Luckily, the vampire changed direction he sidled over to Harry, whose face was still as stone, but for an expression of polite disinterest.
The blonde vampire smiled a winning smile at Harry and shrugged his shoulders. “Well isn’t that a bit of delicious right there...”
Remi felt a sudden pull in his stomach that told him to stab, but the vampire, seemingly to realize his faux pas, turned his warm smile upon Remi again, apologetically. “I feel so terribly rude. Harry, you’ve made me such a bad host. If you’d told me you were visiting, I would’ve brought dinner.”
“It hadn’t occurred to me you would still be in the area,” Harry said, exuding frigidity in a way that confused Remi. “And I’m afraid we’ve no time for sharing a meal, even if I had the intention.”
“Oh, surely not,” the stranger smiled in Remi’s direction, “but I do delight in the unexpected, you know. Anyway, you hardly have a choice in the matter. You’ve got to be tired after traveling through the night, you simply must be my guests.”
Remi’s stomach growled. He was, after all and before most things, was a well-raised country boy. As Harry had repeatedly informed him, his manners were somewhat lacking for continental tastes, but nobody had been stabbed on this occasion, so this could very much be construed as a polite gesture. His stake lingered unsure, but he attempted a polite response.
“Er...uh... yes, well, um, indeed, we’re tired and have nowhere to stay, and also I do personally require food, being the, uh… least damned and still alive among us. We should be very grateful for hospitality, though, uh, morally opposed to your existence I can assure you it won’t save you should it end up being appropriate for me to end your feckless existence.”
The vampire smiled again, this time hiding the pointed teeth that belied most... well, some... of his devilish nature. “I wouldn’t dare imagine it would, noble hunter, but until that’s decided we can be civil. Surely your arm is getting tired.”
Remi made the honest attempt to bring it down. He didn’t quite manage. He got it somewhere about his shoulder height.
“I must beg your forgiveness as well,” the vampire had a startling ability to look sincere, or maybe it was just that his eyes were so terribly blue, “coincidence of nature forces me to speculate that your injuries would make that uncomfortable. Though, again, I’m still very threatened.”
Remi was trying to maintain politeness, but he couldn’t restrain a little mumbling about nature and sin and accursedness. He tried to keep it quiet, and smile as the stranger as gratefully as he could.
As Remi twitched, Harry apparently took a sudden and greatly renewed interest in the proceedings. “I’m afraid we can’t impose, perhaps we’ll see each other another time.”
“Oh, I won’t hear of it, old chap!” the stranger said. “It’s simply won’t do. As they like to say in the Americas, a downright shame were you to go, and also highly impractical.”
Remi brightened at this opportunity to extend his streak of civility. “That’s where I’m from – the Americas.”
The vampire’s smile widened, though he had the decency to keep his teeth mostly to himself. “You don’t say. Well, now I simply must hear of your travels and of your homeland as well.”
Harry stepped forward, putting himself more than slightly in the way of the conversation. “Some other time, perhaps.”
“Yes,” Remi supplied helpfully, looking at the rising light of the sky, “It’ll be dawn soon, we can’t stay in this square.”
Harry did not seem very pleased to have this help.
“Oh, my, reminiscence just got out of hand! In your charming human company, I almost thought it was the good old days again, right Harry?” The vampire put an apologetic hand over his heart- an endearingly human gesture.
Remi blinked. “Good old days?”
The vampire blinked his playful blue eyes at Remi, then whirled to Harry, giving him a companionable punch to the shoulder, “Come now, Harry, old boy, you can’t tell me you’ve never told your friend here about me?”
He turned back to Remi, throwing an arm over Harry’s still shoulders. Could Harry shed his shoulders, like a lizard might lose its tail, he might have. And then set them on fire.
“We were mates back in our school days – well, not mates exactly...” and he turned his smile slowly to Harry, whose face was still as stone, “...rivals, more like. But, oh! Damn, how rude of me! If Harry won’t do it, I will not deny myself the pleasure of an introduction to so fascinating a guest.”
He stepped out from around Harry and approached Remi, sliding one leg before the other like a well-practiced debutante. Putting one fine-fingered, pale hand out, he gave Remi a waist-deep bow before raising his head, just enough, that the street light shone through his dirty blonde hair, making shadows darker, and light streaks into glass and gold.
His blue eyes shone, the soft corner of a pink and well-crafted mouth raising up in time to his voice, “Benjamin, monsieur, pleasure to meet you.”
Remi’s glance shot up to Harry first, but the vampire made no visible signal. He seemed to be frozen, more statue-like than ever, which Remi had to conclude was due to the near rising of the sun.
Remi looked down again. “Er, it is more the misfortune of your blasphemous state that your introduction comes so fairly, for I’m not in the habit of shaking hands with the damned.”
The vampire righted himself swiftly, as if hinged at the hips, his figure still held in perfect poise, and, after only a moment in which his shoulders relaxed and his sardonic smile spread still further, he nodded his head aside, grasped in his fingertips the end of Remi’s stake and, with a serious look on his face, shook it quite gently once up and down as if it were the hand of gravest of royalty.
“My name is Benjamin. How d’you do.”
Remi couldn’t help himself; he laughed.
“Remi; nice to meet you,” Remi nodded back, and shot a smile to Harry.
Benjamin laughed as well, “I knew a companion to good old Harry couldn’t be too stiff a twig.”
He glanced at Harry appraisingly, “Although, I say, there does seem to be a bit of seriousness going around; you need to keep an eye on your guest, friend.”
The vampire winked, and Harry opened his mouth, only to be interrupted, “Ah, I’m only joking, I can see as plain as moonlight who is guesting with whom.”
“Speaking of...” Remi said, looking again up towards the East, where the black of night had become a deep blue.
“Oh, hell,” the vampire said, and opened an arm towards Remi, “Well, I’m sure you know that as fond as I am of this conversation, I can’t stay up chatting like spinsters all day. If, as you said, you’ve found it appropriate not to ‘end my feckless existence’, can I extend the warm welcome of old Oxford town to you and yours for the day?”
“Oh!” Remi glanced around again, “You didn’t tell me this was Oxford, Harry. So you meant you were school rivals?”
Benjamin put an arm on Remi’s shoulder (and got poked in the ribs with the stake for his trouble, but an apologetic smile set it all to rights... though Remi didn’t put the stake away), “Oh, we were rivals well past the school thing, but those are stories for other days.”
Benjamin, letting his arm linger on Remi’s shoulder only a moment more, turned them to face Harry, who, standing apart, remained unmoving.
“Come on, you can’t refuse a little hospitality from an old friend, can you?”
For a moment, it looked as if Harry could. Remi, speaking very cautiously, glanced at the pink rising in the sky behind them.
“Methinks that wouldn’t be a bad plan, Harry, you know, provided your friend won’t turn on us while we sleep, as the blighted and bedamned creature of the night that you are?”
Benjamin patted a hand on Remi’s well armored chest, his voice an honest, offended murmur, “I wouldn’t dream of turning you, friend.”
Remi was sold- he bobbed a little on his toes, looking at the threat of daylight, and his guileless brown eyes waited nervously upon Harry’s response, but Harry still delayed...
Well, that wasn’t true. Harry knew exactly how he wanted to respond.
Harry’s response would’ve been to jam a hand through Benjamin’s chest and rip out and crush his still beating heart so fast it would’ve required a charge of lightening passed between head and heart to even tell him he was dead swiftly enough for him to stop moving within a reasonable time.
“...Harry?”
Remi looked at his vampire friend. Harry glanced at the sky. He looked back to Remi, his skin growing hot from the encroaching light, and gave one last tug on his already-straightened waistcoat. Turning to Benjamin he smiled, showing all of his teeth.
“Of course, old friend, how generous of you.”
Benjamin smiled back, standing between Harry and Remi, impish chin lowered, “Not a bit of it, mate, the generosity’s all yours.”
Remi was flexing his hand away from the stake, trying to get the blood to run in his fingers again. He looked at the two vampires and nodded, “Uh, Benjamin, I ought to warn you not to make any sudden movements...”
Benjamin smiled again, “Don’t worry- I understand, blighted and bedamned and all that. I’ll get you a room that locks from the inside. You’re a friend of Harry’s after all, and any friend of Harry’s is a friend of mine.”
He put a hand out, passing Harry one last, toothful smile, and took Remi by the shoulder, “Come on, friends, light’s coming. Let’s go.”
Remi looked up and smiled, still easing the blood back into his fingers, “I suppose you’re right you know, any friend of Harry’s...”