Morsel

The little pup's posturing would have been adorably hilarious if it hadn't been such a serious situation. Given the actual danger he was in, Cain was instead fighting back a bit of actual irritation at the impetuous werewolf.

"There are two high-ranking members that you especially need to steer clear of," Cain said. "The first should be obvious - Lord Solveig. He'll know what you are immediately, and he'll also know what you aren't." He narrowed his eyes pointedly at the wolf, who was at least looking a bit less guarded and a bit more like he was actually listening to the information Cain was attempting to press upon him. "The second vampire is called Crowe. He's head of security, so he will feel particularly insulted if he discovers you were brought in without permission."

"So he's the one that would be most likely to endanger Grace?" the boy asked, his brows furrowing slightly as he considered the situation.

"Certainly, though anyone who knows that Grace brought you here could turn on the both of you if they discover your… situation," Cain said.

Damien nodded slowly. "So if I'm confronted by a vampire," he said slowly, "and this doesn't work on them," he tapped the amulet, "what do I do?"

Cain grimaced at the thought. "Submit," he said, finally. "There's no other way." He recognized the look in the eye of the young man at those words, because he had felt the same way on many occasions. He hated to bow his head to the whims of his sire, and he could see how much Damien hated to imagine bowing to the whims of a vampire.

"What if they want to… feed?" Damien asked quietly.

"Hope that your will is strong enough to resist enthrallment," Cain said. "And submit."

"What if they try to kill me?" The boy snapped, his voice rising as anger got the better of him.

"Then you will die. The question is whether Grace will die, too, for your arrogance," Cain answered coldly. "You would be better served by avoiding a situation that would lead to such a… severe ending."

"And how do you propose I do that?" Damien demanded.

"By using your mind," Cain snapped, "and avoiding contact with the vampires as much as possible."

"Does that mean I should avoid you, too?" The werewolf challenged, his teeth flashing in the low torchlight of the secluded corner.

Cain resisted the urge to flash his own fangs back at the boy. One of them needed to reign in their temper, and the boy seemed quite incapable of doing so on his own. "Ideally, yes," Cain said.

"Because you're popular here and other thralls might get jealous?" Damien pressed.

Cain raised a solitary eyebrow. "I don't know about that," he said. "It's true that I spend a fair amount of time among the thralls, compared to most. But I wouldn't say that makes me popular. Just… a more common nuisance, in all likelihood."

"A common nuisance, huh?" Damien was smirking at Cain now, as if he found something funny, though Cain couldn't imagine what was amusing about something as juvenile as name-calling.

"Indeed," Cain said. "There is also the matter of your… what are you calling it, anyway? Surely not mate-sickness."

Damien's eyes widened, as if he'd somehow forgotten that this had also been a target of the conversation. "No, no, I… I said I have a wasting disease."

"Clever," Cain said, with a hint of real approval edging into his tone. That wasn't a half-bad lie. It would keep most vampires away, and explained why the werewolf looked so terrible. Though today he had a bit more color in his cheeks, he was still too thin, pale, and easily tired. Not exactly the sort most vampires would feel inclined towards.

Damien puffed up a little bit at the words of praise, before apparently remembering who was paying the compliment and immediately shooting Cain a dirty look, saying, "It's kept most of the thralls off my back, and should discourage vampires, too."

"Yes," Cain agreed, "it should. For the most part." He eyed the frail boy, and was pleased to note a lack of injuries. "That won't make much difference if any vampires catch scent of your blood, though. Be cautious."

"I know that already," Damien growled. "Anything else you'd like to repeat to me?"

"Nothing more comes to mind," Cain said, ignoring the jibe. "Although, I would like to know, will you be needing more of my shirts?"

The boy's face flushed bright red, and he immediately dropped his gaze to the floor. "Yes," he said quietly.

"And what does that… do for you, exactly?" Cain asked, in part because he was genuinely curious, but also because he wanted to make the pup squirm a bit.

Damien's head remained bowed as he muttered in a low voice, "It's a way to feel closer to my mate."

Cain felt one of his brows rising along with his incredulity. "Surely there are easier ways to accomplish that now," he said.

The werewolf lifted his head to glare balefully at Cain. "Didn't you just tell me to avoid vampires, including you?" he hissed.

Cain had said that, but he hadn't realized the shirts were intended as a stand-in for physical closeness. "If you require contact with me," Cain said slowly, "I'm sure something can be arranged."

"Let me make this clear," Damien said harshly. "I don't want to be close to you. I have to be close to you, or I keep getting worse." He gestured at his frail body demonstratively. "Mom and Dezzy were worried, so I came here so they could stop worrying."

For a moment, Cain almost laughed at that. He couldn't imagine that the witch or half-demoness would feel remotely better about leaving a sick werewolf pup in the dubious hands of vampire thralls. In all likelihood, they were horribly worried about the boy. He opened his mouth to say as much, and paused at the hard gleam in the boy's eyes. He knew that his adopted family still worried about him. Yet he was convinced that they would worry less. "Exactly how bad did your mate-sickness get, that coming here was a less worrying alternative?" Cain asked.

The boy continued to glare, as he said, "I didn't transform."

Cain frowned, not quite understanding the significance of that statement. "And…?"

"I was so weak that my magic failed mid-transformation during the last full moon," the werewolf said. "Mother worried I wouldn't have the strength to turn back into a human. That I would be asleep as a half-wolf for the rest of my life."

Cain felt his brow furrowing as he considered that statement. "So the mate sickness is a bit like a sleeping curse?"

Damien blinked once, then twice, before finally answering, "A bit like one, yes."

As terrible as it was, Cain considered how convenient it would be for the wolf to be unable to transform during the full moon. If he kept his distance from the wolf, perhaps he needn't worry about the next transformation, or any transformation. But that would be a miserable existence for the boy, and if he ever needed the witch's help again, he doubted she would appreciate such poor treatment of her adopted son. "Given that you experienced such an incident, would it not be easier to spend a little time together, rather than risking another such incident?"

"Perhaps, but that would mean I would have to spend more time with you, and I don't want that," Damien explained.

Fair enough, Cain rather disliked keeping his own company, so he could hardly blame the young wolf for feeling similarly. "Understood. Then I suppose we will see each other when I deliver an article of clothing," Cain said. "How often would you like those delivered?"

Damien's face reddened again as he answered, "The scent lasts a few days."

"Twice weekly, then," Cain said. "What time will you be in your rooms - early morning or late evening?" He smirked, adding, "I imagine you'll want them delivered there, and not the laundry."

"I'm pretty sure someone would notice if I started carrying dirty clothes out with me," Damien agreed. "I could come to your room," he added.

"That is a terrible idea," Cain informed him. "My room is where all the vampires are. It's more likely to find me wandering the thrall corridors than to see a sick thrall wandering around the vampire chambers."

Damien nodded. "Fine," he agreed. "Late evening, then. I like to sleep in the morning."

Fair enough. Cain slept during most daylight hours himself. Though of course without the help of blood he found very little merit in the act. He was trying not to think about blood, though, because he didn't want to remember the weight of two mugs of blood still lingering in his stomach. "I'll see you this evening, then," Cain agreed. "Can you find your way back to the laundry?"

Damien nodded.

"Good," Cain said, and turned to leave, stalking out of the narrow bend in the hall and making his way to the main corridor, only to draw up short at the surprising sight waiting for him.

There, at the end of the corridor, walking towards him, was Crowe. He had one of the thralls in tow. It seemed to be the half-demon thrall who thought very highly of himself. He was a bit less arrogant now, though, being tugged along by Crowe's harsh grip on his upper arm.

The other vampire slowed to a halt, a look of surprise flickering across his face. "Cain," he said, spitting the name and making a face as though it lingered unpleasantly on the tongue.

"Bird," Cain answered. "It's unusual to see you around these parts, " he added.

"Yes, yes, I'm sure you're quite curious," Crowe snarled. "This one," he shook the thrall so hard that Cain heard the boy's shoulder make an unpleasant popping sound, "overslept. I was forced to come down here and get him myself."

Cain didn't let his disdain show on his face, but he felt for the arrogant thrall, whose face was pale and eyes were wide. The demon-blooded thrall had recently become a favorite of Crowe's, and of course that had gone right to the thrall's head. He'd likely gotten overconfident, forgetting that vampires did not see thralls as anything but a convenience. Become too inconvenient, and your ranked status would not last. This thrall was learning that the hard way.

"Hmm," Cain said, aiming for a disdainful neutrality. (He wasn't able to manage true neutrality when it came to someone as distasteful as Crowe.) "I suppose that explains it."

Crowe huffed irritably, and made as if to stride past Cain. For a moment, Cain thought that would be the extent of the interaction. Then, the vampire's eyes slid past Cain, falling on something a short distance behind him. Cain could see the moment when Crowe's gaze shifted from disinterest to intent focus.

"Well, hello there," Crowe said, taking a step forward, dragging the other thrall with him. "Fancy meeting a morsel like you down here."

Cain didn't need to look to know exactly whom Crowe was speaking to. He took one step to the side, placing himself between Crowe and Damien, saying flatly, "You have your thrall, Crowe. You'd be best served by moving on."

Crowe glanced at Cain briefly, a hint of surprise flickering across his features. "My, my," he practically cooed, "now isn't this a surprise - Cain, have you been hiding a treat from me all along?"

"The thrall is sickly," Cain said, "and in no condition for feeding."

Crowe curled his lip up slightly, baring a lone fang to express his irritation with Cain's meddling. "I think I can judge that for myself," he snarled. "Remember your place."

Cain lifted his chin a bit, but didn't stoop to something as crass as a bared fang. "Lord Solveig declared us of an equal rank, Crowe. Or have you forgotten?"

Crowe narrowed his eyes at Cain. He hadn't forgotten, and he hated being reminded of the fact that as far as the sire was concerned, he and Cain were equal, despite the fact that Cain was still a mere child in vampire terms. Crowe had been with the Solveig clan for more than a century, and Cain had barely passed his first decade with the clan. Of course he was frustrated that Cain could rise to a position so high in such little time. "I haven't forgotten," he snarled. "But you've not been known to stake claim before."

"Maybe I never saw reason to, before," Cain replied. He fought the urge to scream. Why had the werewolf followed so closely? Why hadn't he done what any self-respecting thrall would have done and hidden from Crowe? Now he was caught in the compromising position of actively opposing Crowe. He couldn't let the vampire get ahold of Damien, especially not so soon into the boy's stay. There was no way he'd be able to playact a thrall's role when he could barely endure Cain's presence. Crowe would know the boy wasn't a thrall immediately, and then not only would Damien be caught, but in all likelihood Ellen, Morgan, and Grace would be punished for their parts in the indiscretion. Cain would likely avoid any overt retaliation, but he already knew that Crowe and Fowler were planning to kill him, so there would be no need for Crowe to go through official channels.

"And here I thought my actions were the curious ones," Crowe said, his eyes darting between Cain and Damien once more. "A thrall that has caught the attention of the immovable vampire. How… intriguing."

Cain fought the urge to grimace. He knew that his standing up for Damien would result in increased scrutiny. And of course Crowe only knew selfishness, so he would assume that the only reason Cain might be standing between him and a thrall was because he wanted that thrall for himself. Because that was the only reason that Crowe would stand up to a fellow vampire; it wouldn't even occur to him that the act might be on behalf of a thrall, and not simply a result of the selfish desire to feed.

"You have your thrall," Cain said, indicating the boy, still caught tight in Crowe's grasp, "And I have mine," he tilted his head in the direction of the werewolf. "Don't make this more complicated than it needs to be."

Crowe stared at Cain for a long moment, clearly weighing his options. Then, with a loud sigh, he said, "Very well. But when you're finished with him…" He flashed his fangs again, half-amusement, half-threat. "...I'll take a turn."

Cain had no way to answer that without continuing the argument, so he simply stared blankly at Crowe until the vampire sighed again and took his leave, continuing down the hallway, dragging his demon-blooded thrall behind him.

Damien stepped up beside Cain a second later, watching Crowe until the vampire turned the corner and disappeared from view. Cain glanced over at him, then, expecting to see gratitude. Instead, the boy's gaze was full of immolating fury. "I am not," he snarled, his own fangs flashing far more than Crowe's, "your thrall!"

Cain blinked. "What?"

"You may be my mate," he punctuated his words by poking Cain in the center of his chest, "but that does not give you the right to treat me as a thrall," the werewolf growled, driving his finger a bit deeper, leading Cain to fall back a half-step. For a weakened wolf, Damien still had a surprising amount of wiry strength, the full force of which was currently channeled through the index finger poking Cain. "I won't stand for it."

Cain frowned slightly, reaching down and removing the finger from his chest. "I have no intention of enthralling you," he said honestly, watching in mild amusement as the wolf snatched his finger from Cain's grasp as though it had been burned. The words seemed to sink in a moment later, and the wolf looked up at him in obvious confusion.

"Then why did you tell that vampire-"

"That vampire," Cain interrupted harshly, "was Crowe. One of the vampires you should be doing your level best to avoid. I said what I did to keep him from feeding on you right here and now, so instead of taking offense, perhaps you should be showing me a little gratitude."

Damien recoiled. "Gratitude?" he spat. "For ruining my life?"

Cain valiantly resisted the urge to bare his fangs in response to the clear hostility in the boy's tone. "For protecting you."

"I don't need your protection," the werewolf said, shoving past Cain and marching back in the direction they'd come from, ostensibly heading for the laundry. "I can take care of myself!"

Cain watched the hot-headed wolf go, shaking his head. That boy was going to get himself killed. He only hoped the foolish wolf would manage to die quietly, and not take anyone else down with him.