Feeding

He should have known better than to expect anything but misery on a mission that Crowe had insisted on, but Cain was struggling with it even more than he'd expected. The first night he'd made good time, retracing his steps in the direction of the Frozen Peaks. From what he knew of the thralls Thomas had been tasked with accompanying, they were likely not far from where Thomas had gone rogue, but there was a good chance they had been picked up by one of the representatives of the Winter Court.

Fortunately, while their clan was technically not aligned with the Winter Court, they also weren't actively at war, which meant that Cain could potentially arrange a discussion between a representative and himself. This was what he planned to do, because if the Fae hadn't taken the thralls, they could be anywhere, and he would rather start somewhere than nowhere.

The nearest Fae outpost wasn't far from the temple where he'd been half-purified by Brinn's ritual, but he gave the holy site a wide berth, hoping to avoid any further unpleasantness. The moon, which was gradually increasing from thin crescent towards its full potential with each night that passed, seemed almost smug in its glow. Or maybe Cain was reading into it a bit.

He reached the outpost the next night, his body worn down from two days of hard travel and no blood. By all rights, he should have been feeling the stirrings of real blood-hunger by now, but it was oddly muted, like an injury that only hurts when you think too hard about it. So he tried not to think about it.

The outpost was little more than a small cabin in the foothills of the tall mountain chain that loomed in the near distance. It was made from rough-hewn logs, and had a peculiar sleepy quality about it. It was the sort of unassuming woodcutter's cottage a human wouldn't think twice about encountering, and would likely forget about as soon as they walked away. Vampires had a bit better chance of remembering, if only because the feel of Fae magic left a significant impression on most. It felt foreign and uncomfortable, though not in the same way as divine magic. It wasn't demonic, either. Fae magic was heavily centered around trickery and deceit, vengeance and rewards. Their magical essence wasn't truly dark or light, despite the words humans often used to classify the seelie and unseelie.

Pausing a respectable distance from the woodcutter's cabin, Cain raised his voice a little, calling, "Excuse me, is anyone inside?"

After a long moment, the door creaked open, revealing the leathery, wrinkled face of elderly man. "Who's asking?" he demanded.

"I am," Cain said, and dared a single step closer. "I hate to disturb you so late at night, but I am looking for shelter."

The man's eyes gleamed in the low light of the moon. "Shelter? From what?"

Cain indicated the sky at the edge of the jagged peaks looming overhead, which was gradually brightening as night turned to day. "The sun."

The wizened old man looked at Cain appraisingly, a vaguely suspicious glare crossing his face before it was erased by a look of understanding. "Blood-eater," he pronounced, not really asking.

Cain nodded anyway.

The old man sighed. "One of Solveig's, I expect."

Cain nodded again.

Grunting under his breath, the man pulled his door open a bit wider and gestured for Cain to step inside. "Come on, then," he said, "Neither of us wants to be out here for sunrise."

Cain followed the man inside, pausing respectfully at the door to wipe his boots before stepping inside. "I appreciate your kind welcome," he said.

"Pah," the old man said. "It does me no good to turn away visitors on my doorstep."

Once Cain had stepped fully inside, the man shut the door and shuffled past him, indicating that Cain should follow him. "I'd offer you a drink," the man said ruefully, "but I'm afraid I'm disinclined to share the one drink you'd actually enjoy."

Cain inclined his head in acknowledgement. "It's the thought that counts," he said.

"Gracious of you," the man said, tossing Cain a curious look. "That's not usually your sort's approach."

"I hardly think it wise to start off on the wrong foot," Cain explained. "I don't want to cause an incident between my people and yours."

"Gracious and discerning, you certainly are a breath of fresh air," the old man said. He shuffled his way over to a rough-hewn wooden table, lowering himself into a seat and indicating Cain should take the other. "What can I do for you, blood-eater?"

Cain took the seat. "I'm looking for a pair of thralls last seen around this area," he said. "Given that they have not returned to us, I was wondering if they might have sought shelter with members of the Winter Court." Sought shelter was a bit of a euphemism, been captured by would be closer to the truth. But it never hurt to be careful of one's language around the Fae.

"Now that you mention it," the man said, tapping his chin thoughtfully, "there was a pair of humans who wandered this way not too long ago."

Cain leaned forward a little, telegraphing his interest. It did no good to bluff at this stage of the negotiations. If the man didn't know that the thralls were important, he wouldn't bother to attempt a negotiation. The Fae loved having an advantage over someone. But that also meant that one had to ensure the Fae knew just how advantageous their position was, or they'd be less inclined to act. "Could you tell me which way they went?"

"I can do better than that," the old man answered. "I can have them brought here for you."

Cain felt his brows rise a bit. He hadn't expected the man to be so forthright so quickly. "You can?"

"I can," the man clarified, "but that doesn't mean I will, you see."

Ah yes, the word games. Cain never particularly enjoyed them, but they were a staple of communication with the Fae. "Is there something I can do to tip your hand in that direction?" Cain asked. It was never good to make promises one couldn't keep, especially not to the Fae. But asking for guidance was rarely frowned upon.

"Well," the man said, sighing, "It's been a very long time since I was able to feed. If you would give me a little time with the thralls, perhaps I might be more inclined to have them brought here."

Cain personally thought that turning a thrall over to someone like this old man was no better than handing a thrall over to a thirsty vampire. But he also had very little choice in the matter. This was the sort of decision Solveig would have no trouble agreeing to - thralls were meant to be used. "Do you mind if I ask how, exactly, you plan to feed?" Cain asked, even as his thrall bond pulled tight in his chest.

"There's a reason I live down here and not up there," the old man said ruefully, glancing in the direction of the mountains, though of course neither of them could see the jagged peaks, given that there were no windows in the cabin. "I need more regular contact with humans."

Cain frowned, trying to think of what sort of Fae would need to contact humans. Most of them avoided humans as a rule.

Chuckling, the old man began shaking his head. "It's not my Fae ancestry that needs it," he said, and drummed his fingers on the table. A subtle change began there at his hand, the dry reedy hands becoming more full and firm. The transformation spread up his arm, and eventually encompassed his entire body, leaving in its wake a young, incredibly handsome young man with soft, blonde waves in his hair and bright brown eyes that seemed to sparkle with laughter. He chuckled, flashing a set of perfect white teeth at Cain. "My mother was Fae," he said, "A hag."

That explained the withered old-man appearance. But Cain was still struggling to imagine what the other half of his ancestry would be.

"My father was an Incubus," the man continued, waggling his eyebrows. "So I need to feed on the sexual energy of humans."

Cain wasn't sure how to feel about that. Surely it was better than the vampire's need to feed on blood, but he also didn't like the idea of handing thralls over to a creature who gained his energy through… intimate means. He knew that for most thralls, consent was a rather empty concept, as the enthrallment of a vampire made it very difficult for them to exert their own will. From what he'd heard, a lust demon, such as an Incubus, had a similar effect on humans. He shouldn't care, because it would make his life much easier, but it mattered to him. He didn't want the wills of the thralls to be broken - not by him, and not by this man, either. "I'm sure that's a difficult appetite to satisfy, out here in the wilds," Cain said, aiming for sympathetic. He meant it, too. Just because he didn't like the way that the human will was stolen away by creatures like himself and this man didn't mean he had no sympathy for their plight, for his own plight. It was a trap built by the dark magic that animated him and inhabited demonic entities, one that ensnared the creature as indelibly as its human victims.

"It can be quite lonely," the handsome young man agreed, sighing with a hint of mock melancholy.

"Unfortunate," Cain said.

"You're hesitant," the now-young man said, a pretty pout gracing his full lips. "Why?"

Cain didn't want to insult the half-Fae, but he also didn't feel particularly interested in enabling him. "I don't," he began, then stopped. As much as he liked to remove himself from the reality of his situation, the truth was that the blood he drank from a mug was as ill-gotten as any blood he drank directly from the source. His hands were hardly clean, and who was he to judge a creature like an incubus for taking what he needed? It was hypocrisy, and yet, it stung to be backed into a corner like this. "They're… not my thralls," he said weakly, which was a meaningless sentiment, as any vampire with enough wherewithal and some good eye contact could probably win them over. They'd been entrusted to Thomas, after all.

The half-incubus was eyeing Cain thoughtfully. "You're worried about something that goes deeper than a matter of ownership," he said. "You're conflicted. Care to share?"

"It's not the sort of indecision that most find sympathetic," Cain told him, steering clear of the leading question.

"I'd like to hear more," the man said, leaning back in his chair and crossing a pair of now well-formed, long legs. He cocked his head and eyed Cain with what may have been genuine curiosity, or simply a very convincing act. With incubi, it was hard to know for sure. They were consummate actors, generally speaking. "What is it that concerns you?"

Cain found himself almost crossing his arms defensively over his chest and forced himself to relax. "It's a personal matter," he said.

"I love personal matters," the man insisted, waving a hand dramatically. "I thrive on them."

After weighing the pros and cons of continuing down this line of conversation, Cain finally said, "It's just… do you ever worry about whether your partners are willing?"

The man's expression showed a flash of genuine surprise, and quickly replaced it with a more bland look of amusement. "I don't worry about it, no," he admitted. "But I suppose that's more of a vampire concern anyway."

Cain frowned. "How so?"

"Vampires coerce," the man explained lightly. "I don't mean that in a bad way, necessarily, or perhaps I do," he added in an undertone, before shaking head as though dislodging the thought. "It's just what you do. You overpower the will of a human and replace it with your own."

Cain nodded. "Essentially," he agreed.

"That's not what incubi do," said the man.

Cain blinked. "It's not?"

"Sexual energy is best when it is enthusiastic and unhindered by worries or distress," the man explained. "Lust demons thrive on a human's base desires - and you cannot create an artificial condition of desire and expect it to have the same effect." He grimaced. "In fact, you vampires tend to make human lust taste bland and uninteresting, because it's manufactured interest."

It took Cain a moment or two to follow, but he thought he understood. "It's like when I feed on an unhealthy blood," he said. "I can taste when the human is not at their peak."

"Precisely," the man said, flashing his perfect white teeth at Cain again. "So if you're worried about your thralls being seduced, then you should definitely keep worrying. But if your hesitation was due to a concern for the consensual nature of a potential encounter, rest assured that I have no interest in taking anything that is not freely given."

"But don't your abilities enhance that ability to seduce?" Cain asked. "Isn't that a bit like control?"

"Have you ever met a very attractive person you couldn't stand to be around?" the half-incubus countered.

Cain could think of several within less than a second. He did live among vampires, after all. "Yes."

"What would it take to make you sleep with them?" the man asked, smirking a bit.

"Death threats may not be incentive enough," Cain answered, thinking about how insane he would have to be to sleep with Crowe. The man was good-looking, but Cain would rather die than consider him in that way. The man was utterly repulsive in all the ways that mattered.

"So being beautiful and appealing is not in and of itself a way to control someone," the man pointed out. "It simply makes the love-making more fun." He shrugged. "Wearing a handsome face just makes it easier to find interested parties. But if they know you're an incubus and choose to spend the night anyway, it's hardly coercion."

Cain shrugged. Whether it was or not, he'd have no real way of knowing. Still, it was a bit of a relief to know that the incubus didn't actually have a way to control human thralls the way vampires did. Allowing one of the Fae to potentially control the thralls might have gotten him in a bit of trouble back at the castle. But allowing the man to flirt with the thralls for a night, and leaving it up to the thralls to decide whether or not to take it further… that, he could probably allow, without ending up in too much trouble.

"I don't mind asking them if they're interested in your proposal," Cain finally said, being very careful to promise nothing.

"Excellent," the man said, leaping to his feet and rubbing his hands together excitedly. "I'll send a message. Hopefully they'll be here by daybreak." Cain watched him stride across the room to a small crystal that almost looked like an icicle. He picked it up, glanced back at Cain, and said, "I'll be right back," before retiring to the back room, leaving Cain alone in the kitchen, staring at the edge of the table.

He hoped he'd made the right decision in trusting the half-fae, but only time would tell.