Capítulo 36: Threat
Cain was in wretched shape, no matter how well he concealed it from the thralls. It was unsettling, though, that he'd managed to conceal how badly he was doing from everyone except the unexpectedly perceptive werewolf. He'd not expected to be interrogated when he delivered the shirt, but the wolf had seemed quite certain that something was wrong with Cain.
He was right, of course, not that Cain dared admit something so damning aloud. Even implying such a thing was dangerous in a place such as this. Cain couldn't afford to be weak right now; not with Crowe plotting against him and with Lord Solveig looking for reasons to find displeasure with Cain's assignments. He could afford even less to be seen as weak, regardless of his true condition. As long as he maintained appearances, he would survive. It was blood in the water that made the sharks circle, and that was quite true for vampires as well. So long as he concealed his condition from everyone, he would be fine.
He shuddered to think of what might happen if his secret was revealed, though. The fact that he currently had no way of healing from injuries, nor any way to recover from fatigue, was damning. No one could be allowed to know.
It was odd though, that the only person who suspected a thing was that wolf. Maybe something to do with his enhanced senses? Some said dogs could sense things that humans were unable to detect. Perhaps that was true for werewolves, too.
That task attended to for the time being, Cain made his way to the kitchen, where the night shift thralls were just beginning to prepare for the first meal of the night. As was his way, he kept to the edge of the kitchen, observing the relative chaos of the room as a passive observer. He was holding a mug, so that it looked like he was drinking blood. The truth was he'd barely ladled a mouthful into it, and it was cooling and congealing with every second.
He was afraid to drink it. He'd never been so afraid of drinking blood as he had been these past few weeks. First the thrice-blessed blood had ravaged him, and now even normal blood was useless to him. He didn't want to admit it, he hoped there was some sort of rational explanation for the blood's failing. Perhaps he just needed to wait a bit longer for the holy taint on him to fade? In any case,bthe blood he was drinking was woefully ineffective, and it made him hesitate to drink any at all.
He gazed down at his mug for a few more seconds, contemplating the scarlet hue of it. It wasn't bright or luminescent, like Thomas' purified blood had been. He wondered, briefly, what his own blood might look like. He was too afraid to look. Not to mention the fact that he wasn't able to use blood to heal himself. So any wound he opened would remain open for the foreseeable future.
It wasn't too long after he'd holed himself up in the corner of the kitchen that a thrall appeared, clearly looking for him. He was tall and muscular, with short-cropped hair that accented his sharp cheekbones and left his pulse point clearly visible. He wore clothes that were well-made, but cut so that a large portion of his neck and nape were completely bared. To a vampire, an outfit like that was practically sinful. Only one vampire dressed his thralls like that.
"Sir Einhardt," the thrall said, speaking with a firm but polished tone that only added to the likelihood that he was one of Lord Solveig's, "your presence is required in the great hall."
Cain sighed, gazing back down at the little mouthful of blood, realizing that the time had come for him to dredge up the courage to drink it. He hated the sensation of it, now that the blood wasn't being used properly by his failing undead body. He hated the fact that every time he paused to take stock of himself, he could feel the blood from the past few days, still lingering in the bottom of his stomach. He was starting to think that the blood wasn't going to go anywhere anytime soon. Still, he had to keep up appearances. So, with an internal grimace, he tossed back the mouthful of blood, swallowing a few times in hopes it might inspire his stomach to get to work. It did not, and the blood sank to the bottom, along with the rest of the blood he'd drank recently. "Lead the way," he said, gesturing for the thrall to take the lead, pausing only momentarily to leave his mug in the vampire sink.
He followed the thrall along the usual corridors, eventually reaching the great hall. The thrall opened the door for him, but did not step inside. Once Cain crossed the threshold, he immediately noticed that Crowe was there too, standing beside Lord Solveig with a cat-that-got-the-canary sort of smirk. Cain didn't like what that sneer boded, but he couldn't exactly turn around and walk away, either, not when he'd been ordered to come.
"Lord Solveig," Cain said, inclining his head in a show of respect.
"Cain," his sire said, sounding mostly bored, and a tiny bit irked. The irritation niggled at Cain, because thralls were meant to remove the burdens from their masters, and if his master was irritated, it was because Cain had failed to perform adequately as a thrall.
"How may I be of service?" Cain asked, because he wanted this to be over and done with as soon as possible. He could tell from Crowe's smirk that he had something to do with this, and knew that it might very well be part of the older vampire's plan to exchange Cain's undeath for a true death.
"Those thralls that Thomas went after are still missing," Solveig said.
Because you didn't tell me to bring them back, Cain thought irritably, though he knew better than to voice his complaint. It wouldn't do him any good, and would likely cause him even more trouble. Instead, he simply inclined his head in quiet assent.
"Crowe tells me it could be a security issue," Solveig continued, "to leave some of our thralls out there - they could be discovered. Particularly if they wander towards the Frozen Peaks. That is where you said you found Thomas, yes?"
"Yes," Cain confirmed, working very hard not to grit his teeth or give any indication of his annoyance. He'd only just gotten back from a grueling task, and Crowe was whispering in Solveig's ear to try and have him sent on another one with hardly any time to recover! At this rate he was going to work himself into an early grave before Crowe even had the chance to murder him. Perhaps that was preferable to whatever torment Crowe likely had in mind for Cain - he hated Cain intensely, and he didn't doubt that whatever end he had in mind, it would be incredibly painful.
Though, perhaps not as painful as inverted blood-hunger. So perhaps he had more important things to worry about than whatever Crowe had planned, regardless of whether he stayed here or went back on the road.
"Excellent," Solveig said. "We've received word from one of our scouts that some thralls were discovered not too far from where you delivered my judgement to Thomas. Go and bring them back."
It was quite rare for an enforcer to be sent on a glorified fetch-quest, especially one that had been so simple that they had entrusted it to a vampire like Thomas. But Cain couldn't refuse, even if he knew this whole expedition was planned by Crowe, likely to get him out of the castle long enough to finish plotting his next move. He could only hope that the retrieval would go smoothly, and that Grace, Johann, and the other thralls who looked out for him would be able to keep track of Crowe and his dark dealings and alert him if things began to look dire.
"Is there anything else?" Cain asked, because he was going to ensure that Solveig confirmed with his own voice that he didn't expect anything more from Cain. He didn't want to be scolded again for not completing tasks that hadn't been assigned to him.
"That's all," Solvieg answered. "Do be careful of the unseelie, though. One can never be too sure what they're getting up to."
Probably the same sorts of things that the vampires were getting up to - trying to survive the politics of their cutthroat court and preying on innocent humans who strayed too close. It was rather in their nature, for both the vampires and the dark fae.
"I will do what I can to steer clear," Cain said, because he couldn't exactly promise not to encounter the fae on his journey. But he could promise to do what he could, because that was dependent more on his intent and capability than his actual performance.
"Have fun," Crowe sneered.
Cain wanted very badly to sneer back at him, but couldn't risk Solveig thinking that he was being disrespectful - he couldn't afford to be punished at the moment, not by his vampiric bond to his sire, nor by his Lord demanding he be flogged for insolence. Instead, he kept his tone and face as neutral as possible, as he answered, "I will do what I can to accomplish the task as quickly and efficiently as possible."
Solveig huffed with what sounded like approval, turning to Crowe. "You see? Fun isn't something Cain strives for," he said. "He is the ideal pawn." He turned back to Cain with a glimmer of malice in his eyes. "Aren't you?"
"Yes, my lord," Cain answered, the words heavy on his tongue and heavier on his heart.
Crowe, meanwhile, was glaring at him, the jealousy in his heart written on his features as clearly as if it had been etched there.
"Go on, then," Solveig said. "No need to stand on ceremony."
And so, without fanfare, Cain left. His sire had ordered it, and so he had no choice but to obey. It was not until he had nearly reached the edge of the town that bordered the castle that he remembered the werewolf. He hadn't bothered to stockpile any more shirts, as he hadn't anticipated being sent out again so soon. Hopefully this task would prove simpler and faster than the previous one.
Cain sincerely doubted it, given the particular turn his luck had been taking lately, but it was good to hold onto hope. It was one of the few things that kept him feeling somewhat human.
Turning his eyes momentarily heavenward, Cain eyed the moon with a hint of suspicion, before saying, "I don't know if this is a prayer, or a threat." It wasn't a particularly auspicious start to a conversation with a goddess, but then, Cain also wasn't certain the moon was even listening to him, so it didn't matter all that much. "Your wolf is waiting back at the castle. If you care about him, you'll need to ensure my safe return." Or sever the bond between us, he didn't add, because that would be much less likely to end with him surviving whatever he might encounter on this journey. "So make sure I don't die on this trip, or your precious wolf will suffer," he added. Now it definitely sounded like a threat. He had a feeling that gods and goddesses didn't appreciate being spoken to like that, so he added a quick, "please," to the end of the last statement. He wasn't sure it really made much of a difference, given the overall content of the prayer/threat. But it was the best he could do, at the moment.
Whether the moon listened or cared remained to be seen.
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