Request

The next three weeks proceeded more or less as one might expect - Cain kept to himself, and the other vampires weren't foolhardy enough to try something as stupid as attacking him in his own quarters. He knew he couldn't avoid the brewing fight indefinitely, but Cain wanted to be sure he had a chance of being the one still standing after the dust settled. On order to ensure that, he had to play it safe until he was back to full health. Fortunately, it seemed as though Crowe was content to leave him be, so long as he didn't get in the way or interfere with the day-to-day functions of the castle guard.

This was fine by Cain; he had no interest in interfering with the castle security protocols, or anything remotely similar. The only real complication came when he was approached by one of the thralls usually responsible for going to market. Grace usually didn't find her way any further than the kitchen, so Cain was surprised to find her at his door at what had to be almost sunrise.

"Grace?" he said, confused as to what the thrall could be doing at his door. He didn't exactly take hit orders from thralls, and while he wasn't the sort to take advantage of thralls, he wasn't a popular choice to throw in with, either, given his general unpopularity among the high-ranked vampires.

"Good evening mister Einhardt," Grace said, dropping into a quick curtsy. "I hope the night has treated you well."

"Well enough," Cain answered slowly. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?"

"Well." Grace had the decency to look a bit embarrassed by what she said next, "I actually wanted to ask you a favor."

"A favor?" Cain repeated.

"Yes, you see, there's this woman in the market," Grace explained, cupping one of her cheeks in a delicate hand, her eyes going faintly glassy. "She's so funny, and she's strong, too, and so pr-"

"What's the favor?" Cain interrupted, because he didn't care to hear about the romantic exploits of his thralls.

"Oh," Grace ducked her head a little, giggling nervously. "She wanted some of your clothes."

Cain blinked once, and then a second time. When he realized there was no more information forthcoming, he asked, "...why?"

"Oh!" Grace's head flew back up, her wide eyes locking on his. "It's not for anything bad!" she quickly said, apparently trying to be reassuring.

Cain did not feel particularly reassured by this. "Then what is it for?" he asked. He could think of several ways a vampire's clothing could be used for nefarious purposes, not the least bit of which was as a focus for a spell of some sort. He'd just taken out a high-ranking wizard, after all. It wouldn't be surprising to learn that a mage's guild or two were coming for him now.

"It's just," Grace looked uncomfortable. "I don't have permission to share the reason. She said it was… personal."

Personal? Now Cain felt even more worried. Personal sounded an awful lot like a vendetta, and he'd suffered quite enough of those in his short time as a vampire. "If I don't know what the clothes are to be used for, I'm not going to give them away," he told Grace.

After a moment's hesitation, Grace ducked her head and whispered something under her breath. A normal human never would have been able to make out what she said, but Cain wasn't human, not anymore, and he could hear what she said perfectly.

"Mate-sickness?" Cain repeated, frowning slightly. But that was an ailment that affected werewolves, not mages. What on earth would his clothes do for a wolf with mate-sickness, anyway? He didn't know much about wolves, but he knew enough to be aware of the fact that scent was important part of the whole mate-finding process.

"She said it's her brother," Grace said, "he needed your scent, and -"

"How do you know it's my scent the wolf needs?" Cain asked, wracking his brain for when he'd had any substantial interactions with a werewolf. Only one recent incident came to mind. But that was ridiculous. If the pup had been mate-sick during the encounter, Cain had a feeling he would have been able to tell. He'd smelled it before, it made the blood taste terrible, the wolves were so full of stress and misery it tainted their blood. Not the way that the wizard had tainted himself, obviously. But it tasted terrible nonetheless. Cain rarely disliked the taste of blood, but that had been one of the bloods he'd nearly spat out.

"She described you in detail," the girl said, "and she knew you'd come back from some kind of fight, recently."

It had to be the demon girl from the magical cabin. Cain wanted to groan, but he didn't like showing his hand in front of the thralls. Just because they were loyal now didn't mean that allegiance couldn't shift in the blink of an eye - or the piercing of a vein. "All right," Cain grumbled. He owed the demon-girl for the timely blood, anyway. The least he could do was part with a few articles of clothing. "But I'm not taking the clothes out there myself," he added. For one thing, he imagined their rendezvous was probably arranged to take place during the daylight hours, and he couldn't stand the thought of braving sunlight for something so idiotic.

"That's okay!" Grace said quickly. "I can take them!"

Cain grimaced at the suggestion. "Maybe," he said. He thought about the strict guidelines he had to follow to keep his sire happy. Would giving his clothes away be considered aiding an enemy? "I need to ensure I have the authority to give them away in the first place."

Grace nodded slowly. "I'll tell her that there might be complications."

'Complications' was a generous description.

"Go on, then," Cain said, waving her off. "I'll inform you of the situation once I have a better understanding of it myself."

"Okay," Grace agreed. "And thank you," she added.

"Don't thank me yet," Cain muttered, shutting his room door and staring dismally at the pile of clothes in his laundry pile. At least he hadn't bothered with the washing yet…