Donovan felt the weakness from the blood ritual, the one bright light in this situation was the mess he left in their office. Of course he also knew where to find Gabriel and his blood, regardless of his own weakness, would draw the other vampire to him. The issue would come in preventing Gabriel from attempting to drain him. He sighed heavily, this was going to be difficult and almost more trouble than it was worth. He forced himself to remain standing tall as he walked into the bus station where he knew Gabriel could be found. The ground was littered with corpses, his childe had gorged himself before falling asleep. There was a small stumble in his step before he righted himself again, rubbing the bridge of his nose, he had a headache.
Gabriel was laying on a parka, still asleep, and Donovan knew that if he approached the vampire would awaken, but if he could lure him this might be a little easier. Carefully, he bit his wrist just enough to draw some blood, the smell would get his attention, asleep or not.
He had dealt with ferals in the past but every time it had consisted of killing them. He knew it was possible to save them but had never done so himself. He had seen it done, his sire had saved his sister when Donovan was young. Since then, he had never allowed them to exist in his territory and had never tried to save them. He supposed there was a first time for everything.
Cool air bit into his wrist once it had split, and it stung more than ever before. The ritual had taken a lot more out of him than he’d realized. Nevertheless, the instant a trail formed over his wrist and began to drip onto the dirty ground to mingle with the human bloodstains that already painted it, Gabriel’s eyes snapped open. A deep inhale of breath, a growl--and Gabriel was on his feet, quickly drawing up to Donovan for his reward.
“Gabriel,” Donovan kept his voice calm, meeting his eyes, “come with me, I’ll make sure you’re well fed, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” The key to this was not showing fear, was not allowing him to have the upper hand.
He didn’t know what any of those words meant. Couldn’t. The tone, however, succeeded in keeping him calm. When Gabriel stared straight into Donovan’s eyes in challenge, the challenge hung in the air to see who would flinch. Not easily cowed, and certainly not by a fledgling, let alone a feral one, Donovan did not bow his head. Gabriel, after a tense moment, did. Only once that happened did Donovan hold out his wrist to him, offering him a drink as a reward. He would only allow one swallow, one lick of the blood across his skin, after that they would leave and he would take Gabriel home. Keeping him there would be interesting, Clarence would have to acquire enough sustenance for them, at least for himself. He would have to feed Gabriel, his blood could bring him back, but it would take time.
Gabriel happily latched onto Donovan’s wrist, the early squeamishness he’d once possessed long forgotten. He didn’t put up much of a fight when the wrist was pulled away just as quickly as it had been offered. He had likely fed far too much to drink more than that anyway. After that taste he knew Gabriel would follow him and he took advantage of that, herding him into his car and motioning for him to stay put before getting behind the wheel. Home was too far away to walk a feral vampire, if he tried, Gabriel would attack the first people he saw and it was becoming light so it was likely he would also desire to sleep more. Donovan locked the doors once he was behind the wheel, hopefully that would be enough to deter him from attempting to open it.
Were the situation less serious, it might have been amusing to note how much easier Gabriel could be persuaded to go somewhere without question when he wasn’t in his right mind. He managed to get home without incident, transfering Gabriel from the car to the house was going to prove to be interesting but hopefully not difficult.
A curtain twitched in one of the front windows of the house, and not long after there was an annoying noise echoing from Donovan’s pocket. His phone. One of the ridiculous catalysts to tonight’s mess. Gabriel watched him intently, still calm behind glassy eyes. When his own sire had dealt with a feral childe, the creature had never been quite as relaxed as Gabriel seemed to be in the moment. Perhaps he was more self-aware than he seemed. Perhaps this would be easier than he thought.
Donovan pushed the button on his phone, holding it to his ear, “Yes?”
“Master, preparations have been made. Ruben is safely resting in his room with the door barricaded and I have ensured the young lady is thoroughly sedated. I am confident that once you open the front door, the smell should draw him into the cellar. I followed your instructions to the letter.”
“Very well, thank you Clarence. I’m going to open the car now.” He looked toward the house, “open the front door.” He waited until the door slid open before opening the car door on Gabriel’s side, “let’s go, Gabriel.”
It was almost too easy. The feral vampire snapped to attention the moment he smelled the blood, and he was tearing across the lawn with surprising speed for a creature who had gorged itself so thoroughly mere hours before. If Gabriel--when Gabriel came back to himself, he would not likely enjoy the knowledge of what he had done tonight, and still would do before he recovered his sanity. He followed behind, not hurrying, Gabriel would likely fall asleep right after. He made his way to the prepared room, closing the door and sealing his childe inside. He would come back later, he needed to go eat, if he wasn’t well fed he wouldn’t be able to save Gabriel.
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Getting his affairs in order had not been easy. Ignatius had far too many commitments when his son returned to the world of the living to drop them, much as he’d have liked. Politics were a nasty business. Now, however, it was time.
“Lauren, did you see to it that my belongings arrived on time?” He inquired of his trusted servant, a woman who had served him faithfully and without question for the last thirty years. She was one of the odd few who did not seek eternity once her contract came to its close, but chose instead to remain beside him as a confidant and caretaker. Ignatius trusted her with everything but his life. That, unfortunately, he could not offer to a human no matter how loyal.
“I did, master. Have you decided how long you wish to stay?” She replied, pulling the black car smoothly into the driveway of his son’s estate.
“No. Return to the hotel and wait for instruction.”
“Very well,” she bowed her head at the wheel and waited until he had retrieved his briefcase from the floorboard before climbing out of the car to hold his door open for him. He hadn’t been here in decades. Not since Donovan had disappeared. His sudden return wasn’t entirely unexpected, as Ignatius would have known if he were dead, but it was certainly a surprise. They had exchanged few words through emails and phone calls, as his son hadn’t wanted to tell him anything until they could speak face to face. A rather stubborn way of demanding Ignatius’s presence sooner rather than later, but not one he was entirely adverse to.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
When he reached the front door, he got a peculiar feeling. Something very dangerous and wild was in the house, of that he was certain. Ignatius rang the doorbell with the intent of knowing exactly what as soon as possible. The door was opened by a young man, surely his servant, he looked tired and a little haggard but was hiding it well.
“I'm sorry sir, my master is indisposed, might I take a message for him?” He asked with a deep bow.
“Yes,” Ignatius replied in a quiet, but very firm voice, “you may tell him I am in the parlor. Kindly step aside. He will be glad to see me.”
The young man stood upright, looking at him wearily, “master has ordered that no one is to enter, I'm afraid I must ask you to…” The young man was cut off before he could finish by an old man who shuffled his way out of one of the side rooms.
“Clarence, this is master Donovan's sire, I'm sure he would approve of breaking his orders this once, in this particular circumstance.”
Ignatius examined the old man from a distance. He hardly recognized the feeble creature, but there was something in the eyes. Yes, Rudy, or something along those lines. He remembered now.
“I have never been inclined to plan my visits in advance,” Ignatius explained, though he had little reason to do so to a servant, “let him attend to whatever business he has and tell him he has a guest in the parlor.”
The young man bowed deeply, “yes, sir, I do apologize, I will inform him. Can I get you anything while you wait?” He kept the bow low, was well trained, this one. It was a welcome sight to know Donovan was being well cared for.
“No, I believe I have all I need,” he gently patted the side of his briefcase as the young man led him towards the parlor. Not that Ignatius didn’t remember the path well, but certain niceties were still something he could appreciate. He settled into a comfortable wingback chair and pulled out the contents of his briefcase: a newspaper. Ignatius traveled light. He suspected he would be more than halfway through the thing before Donovan found the time to speak to him, if his young servant’s state was anything to judge by.
It was an hour before Donovan came into the parlor. The young man had brought blood wine a little before his arrival and had checked on him periodically, standing quietly in case he needed anything. His son looked pale and exhausted, something was very wrong. Donovan sat in the chair beside him, closing his eyes.
“I'm sorry I didn't give you a proper greeting, father.”
“I am sorry it took me so long to finally visit,” Ignatius told him, lowering his newspaper and setting it on the small table beside his chair. “I suspect my timing could have been better. You have something feral in the house. An experiment?” He remembered his son’s fondness for science and unconventional anatomy projects all too well.
“No, my fledgling,” he poured himself some blood wine, taking a deep drink, “he is the feral creature in my home.”
Ignatius was too old to be surprised by much, but this was most certainly unexpected, “what happened? I know you wouldn’t starve someone of your own blood on purpose, Donovan. Was he weak-willed? An accident?”
Donovan laughed, taking another drink, “if anything, his will is too strong. He's stubborn, refused to drink and when I finally convinced him to and he was startled and fled, the hunger took him and he went feral.”
Ignatius took a proffered glass, finding that he had become suddenly very thirsty. “What are you going to do?” There were few options.
“I'm not sure, I need to restore him. Thus far I have been primarily giving him my blood but I am unsure how long I can continue to do so.” He drained the rest of his glass, pouring another.
“I hesitate to ask, but are you sure he can still be restored? You, of all people should know how much more impossible such a task becomes as time wears on. There may be nothing left of the person you knew.” It hurt to say, and even more to remember the two he’d lost due to similar circumstances. Children. Their bond went beyond his connection to Donovan, they had been his son and daughter when he was human as well.
“I can still feel him but the hunger is so very strong. As long as there is a glimmer of him there I must believe he can be saved.” He looked at his father hopefully, “can you help me? Please, father, I'll do anything.”
Bowing his head, Ignatius placed his glass upon the table between them, as they were sitting in opposing chairs. “I will do what I can,” he agreed as he began to roll up one of his crisp white dress sleeves. “Drink from me, you will need the strength.”
Donovan stood, moving to kneel beside his chair, taking his arm reverently when it was offered. He laid a kiss upon his wrist before sinking his fangs in and drinking, his eyes closing.
Over thirty years of pain seeped into Ignatius’s mind, just as blood seeped from the wound and suffused his childe with new strength. Ignatius knew the fear, the anger, and the deep-seated resolution that true death would be a greater mercy than the eternity of darkness Donovan had begun to believe he was damned to. Then he saw the waking dream, and the white hot strength of an unexpected bond forming. When Donovan was sated, Ignatius knew immediately why his fledgling was so important to him, and why letting him go would not be an option.
The ticking of a grandfather clock was the only sound for quite some time as Ignatius waited for his wrist to heal, and quietly watched his son recover.
“You need him,” he stated. Not a question. A certainty.
Donovan nodded, “yes, I need him, I can't let him go.” He closed his eyes again, laying his head on his sire's lap, “I just can't. I should go take care of him.” His words did not reflect his actions, he didn't move from his place on the floor. Ignatius gently laid a hand on his head and Donovan let out a soft sigh, “I missed you, I missed this.”
“I am glad you came back,” Ignatius replied, indulging in the rare affection he had only for a select few. He had not been in the habit of siring terribly often in the last several hundred years, and the few losses Ignatius had suffered were devastating. Having Donovan here now was like reclaiming a lost piece of himself. His son.
“You need to rest,” Ignatius informed him, knowing full well it would take far more blood than the little Donovan had taken from him tonight to help him recover. “You can not save him if you do not care for yourself.”
“Would your blood help him?” He was already half asleep and his words came out mumbled.
Ignatius leaned down to place a kiss upon Donovan’s head, breathing in the scent he had never forgotten even through their years apart. “I wish I could, but there is more to bringing a feral creature back than simply blood and patience. When I had you feed your sister, it was not because I was unwilling. It is because you were her strongest bond. Only you can bring him back from whatever darkness he has plummeted into. Sleep. He is resting now, and so should you.”
“Yes, father.” He said, nodding and slowly falling asleep with his arms wrapped firmly around his leg. Ignatius stroked long fingers through Donovan’s hair, not certain he liked the hint of silver poking through several strands. Nothing a few good meals wouldn’t fix, but it was a sign that he had been pushing himself too hard.
Ignatius knew the path to Donovan’s room as if he had never left this house, and he gladly carried his son to bed, as if he were a young boy. Donovan was too tired to wake easily, so it was a simple matter to leave him there with a sliver of hallway light casting a bright stripe across Donovan’s bed.
“Good night, Donovan. I will still be here in the morning. So will your childe. Rest assured that he will come back to you soon.”