Bittersweet Nightshade

"Oh, my god," Aubrey cried as Stregoni and Gilles stumbled into the library. "What in the hell happened to the three of you?" He scrambled from his seat to help them to the sofa and chairs in one corner. "Your hand, Stregoni. What in god's name—"

"Brey, not now" Sangre said sharply. "Fetch them brandy. Ruthven, ring for tea and food."

Aubrey immediately obeyed, though he was reluctant to leave his friend's side for even a moment.

François looked one step from passing out, and Gilles was little better—and wholly unlike himself, sitting quiet and meek on the long sofa. They looked as though they'd been in a nasty fight, and Stregoni's hand.

He brought over the decanter of brandy and two snifters, pouring for both of them. Stregoni downed most of his in one gulp, almost choking, but Gilles only shook his head.

"I'm still feeling the effects of the laudanum I took earlier," Gilles said. "Best not to add spirits to that."

Sangre frowned.

Aubrey shrugged and drank the brandy himself. "So what happened?"

"Lord George," Stregoni said, tossing back the rest of his brandy and setting the glass aside. "Could you have someone bring my bag to me? I wasn't able to carry it in myself."

"Of course," Aubrey said, and the moment servants arrived with tea and food, sent one of them to fetch it. "Why would Uncle George do this?" he asked, resuming his seat in an armchair near the sofa. Ruthven perched on the armrest, looking quiet and thoughtful as the rest of them talked. "Father?"

Sangre looked grimly at Gilles's injured face, Stregoni's burned hand. "He has gone too far, and I sense he has been going too far for quite some time. I should have ended this matter a long time ago."

"He—" Gilles started to speak, then pressed his lips together in a tight line. "I fear he will be coming after us. I wanted to stay and placate him—"

"But we talked him out of that stupidity," Stregoni said sharply. He held up his burnt hand. "Lord Sangre, I mean no disrespect, but your brother is dangerously unstable. He lost his mind when he saw…when he saw Gilles, François, and me together. He shoved my hand straight into the fire. I also think he was taking something."

Sangre glowered at their injuries. "Saying my brother is unstable is a vast understatement, but I foolishly thought we had him under control." He slid Gilles a reproving look. "You did not tell me everything."

Gilles said nothing, merely glared at the trays of food on the low table.

"I know you feel guilty, Gilles, but you shouldn't," Sangre said, voice gentler than Aubrey had ever heard it. "Your father is not your fault—he was never the most stable person to begin with, I have tried to tell you this."

Stregoni rested his good hand on Gilles's thigh as François twined their arms together on Gilles's other side, stilling whatever protest he'd been about to make. Aubrey had never seen his cousin so…compliant. It was the strangest thing.

"Lord Sangre," Stregoni said, "you have no idea what your brother has been doing all these years."

Gilles's face tightened. "I would really rather keep my personal business to myself."

François said sharply, "It's not your fault your mother is dead! We won't simply stand by and let you believe that."

"What?" Aubrey said, the same time as his father. "Your mother died in childbirth, didn't she, Gilles?"

Gilles said nothing, merely stared coldly at the table.

"So that is what he has been holding over you," Sangre said softly. "I should have thought of it, I suppose, but even I didn't think my brother would be that awful. Gilles."

Slowly Gilles looked up, anger and humiliation and fear in his face.

"Gilles, your mother's death is not your fault. My brother was cruel to convince you of such. If anything, I sense he really blames himself. Your mother was weak in body, did you know that? She was not much stronger than Carmilla. A childhood illness nearly took her life, and she never completely recovered. She made up for it in spirit, so few ever realized it. She was warned that having children would likely be the death of her. Your father knew that. They took the risk anyway. Their choice, and the results of that choice, is not your fault. If your mother was alive, I can tell you with confidence that she would love you with all her heart. She would never tolerate you shouldering the blame for her death. She would thrash your father within an inch of his life for putting such a thought in your head."

Silence fell as Sangre finished speaking, and he and Gilles stared at each other for a long time.

Then, without a word, Gilles stood up and slowly left the room.

Stregoni sighed softly. "I think you did more good than we ever could have," he said. "Thank you."

Sangre shook his head. "I cannot believe all this time…" He sighed. "My arrangement with my brother was simple. I would take Gilles, assume control of all Georges finances and business affairs, and in return, I would keep him well supplied and cared for, and he would leave us alone."

"Well supplied?" Aubrey asked. "With what?"

"Whatever drug he was taking," Stregoni said.

Sangre nodded. "Coca powder, to put a name to it. I thought the arrangement would save Gilles and keep my foolish brother away from all of you. I did not know he was manipulating Gilles in such horrid fashion this whole time. I should have." He bowed his head, heaving a long sigh.

"That's not all he was telling Gilles," Stregoni said, and tersely explained all that had transpired.

When he finished, Aubrey could not think of a single thing to say. Suddenly his cousin's behavior over the past years made a lot more sense. "Poor Gilles. At least you're all safe now."

"Unless he comes after us," Stregoni said, shivering.

"I will take care of my brother," Sangre said. "Like I should have done a long time ago. It seems I keep making mistakes."

Aubrey shook his head. "He's your brother. I would have tried to tuck him away too—and who would ever imagine a man could be so cruel to his own son? The worst you ever do is start shouting, or go all icy."

Sangre looked at him briefly in amusement, but the troubled look returned too soon to his face. "Be that as it may, George will now have to be more harshly dealt with; I will not tolerate him hurting my children, and Gilles has long been more mine than his." He looked at Stregoni's hand. "And the Benefici family has always been more like an extension of our family. So, yes, my brother will be dealt with, even if I must take the most extreme of measures. I—"

A knock at the door stopped him, and Sangre called for the knocker to enter.

The maid who entered curtsied, then said, "My lord, Mistress Carmilla has woken."

"Thank you," Sangre said, then sighed softly as the maid vanished again. "One unhappy moment after another," he said tiredly. "Brey, if you would like to see your sister, do so. Then she and I must have a talk."

Aubrey frowned, confused, but did not argue. Instead, he nodded and stood. "Stregoni, you should get some rest before you fall over. Take Gilles and François with you."

Stregoni smiled faintly. "I believe I will, unless you need me to tend to Milla?"

"No," Sangre said. "There is nothing you can do for her. Go find Gilles, for I sense he needs you both very much right now."

"All right. I'll treat my hand, and then we'll go find him. Go see Carmilla, Brey."

Aubrey clasped his shoulder briefly in comfort, then preceded his father to the door, leading the way up the stairs—and realized Ruthven had followed him.

Carmilla was sitting up in bed when they arrived, still looking pale and sickly, but the slightest bit better than she had only a little while ago. "Brey," she greeted with a weary, but warm, smile.

"Milla," Aubrey said quietly, lightly touching her hand. "I'm glad you're awake."

"Me too," Carmilla replied, laughing weakly, clasping his hand. "I'm sorry to have had you all so worried."

Aubrey shook his head. "It's not your fault."

She smiled again and started to speak, but paused when another shadow fell across the bed. "Papa," she said softly.

"Milla," Sangre said. "I am happy to see you awake." He turned to Aubrey. "If you will excuse us briefly, Brey."

"No," Milla said as Aubrey stood up and Sangre took his place, perching beside her on the bed. She reached out and took his hands, squeezing them. "It's okay, Papa. Brey can stay. No reason to say it twice."

Sangre looked at her. "You already know."

"There were little things," Carmilla said, smiling, but she was blinking away tears. "It did seem awfully strange that I got so sick at the same time as François, when no other human in the house was affected. Combined with all the other little things, and what we know now about your relationship with Mama and Mina…"

"Oh, angel, I am sorry," Sangre said, voice thick and heavy, as though some great weight held him down. He lifted her hands and kissed the backs of them.

"It's all right, Papa," Carmilla said quietly. "I'm sorry you've had to worry so much about me all these years."

Aubrey stared at them, feeling stupid and confused. "What am I missing?"

Ruthven looked at him. "She is only your half-sister. Her mother was not Lady Lucy, but…"

"Mina," Sangre said, reaching out to gently brush away a stray curl of Carmilla's hair, not taking his eyes off his daughter. "We left the city for two reasons—we were tired of the rumors chasing us all over. The three of us were unorthodox, to be certain, but we loved each other deeply and wanted only to be happy together. Out here in the country, we did not have to put up so much pretense. We could be ourselves, and live freely and as equals.

"The other reason," he continued softly, "was that Mina began to show signs of being in a delicate way."

Aubrey gaped. "But—Pets are rendered incapable of breeding."

"Yes," Sangre said. "Something went wrong—or right—with Mina. It was quite the surprise. Shortly after you were born, Brey, Mina gave birth to Carmilla. You are actually only a few months apart in age."

Aubrey sat down on the bed. "Huh," was all he could manage.

"So what now?" Carmilla asked, wiping away the tears that had fallen down her cheek. "I've gotten way too sick this time, that's the only reason you'd finally tell me."

"I'm sorry," Sangre said softly, reaching out to embrace her. "I wanted only for you to be happy, and for no one to cause you any harm. It has terrified me from the moment you were born that someone would discover your true nature and take you from me, one way or another. Your mothers worried constantly about you, though they were ecstatic to have a little girl to dress up and fuss over and someday take about town with them."

Carmilla nodded, though her face was still buried against his chest.

"So she needs blood." Aubrey scowled. "I'm not letting my sister become anyone's Pet."

Ruthven looked at him in amusement. "I do not think your family is the kind who will ever be Pet to anyone."

"I guess you would know," Aubrey replied tartly, "seeing as you make a poor Pet yourself."

Chuckling, Ruthven bent down to kiss him briefly.

Aubrey flushed. "Not here, you troublemaker."

"Yes, Master," Ruthven replied, and rose to his full height. "If you will permit me, I might be able to solve the problem, at least to some degree."

They all looked at him. Aubrey lifted his eyes to the ceiling. "Why am I not surprised you have another one of your strange tricks?"

Ruthven merely smirked, then sketched Lord Sangre and Carmilla a deep bow. "I can at least ensure she is not ever bound to one person."

"That's impossible," Lord Sangre said, not releasing Carmilla.

"No, it is not," Ruthven said softly. "Please."

Aubrey thought his father would protest, but after a moment, Sangre stood and moved aside.

Ruthven took his place alongside Carmilla. "I am certain this is more than a little unsettling for you, my lady, but I promise all will be well. All right?"

Carmilla nodded slowly, but reached out to clasp her father's hand.

Smiling gently, Ruthven lifted his wrist to his own mouth and bit down sharply. Blood trailed down it, dripping over his arm to fall on the bed sheets. He held his bleeding wrist out. "Drink slowly."

She hesitated, but at an encouraging look from Sangre, finally swallowed nervously and accepted Ruthven's wrist, covering the slight wound with her mouth. Her eyes widened in shock, then slowly slid closed.

"Good," Ruthven said softly. Aubrey looked over his shoulder, unable to tear his eyes from the sight of his sister feeding like a Pet.

His sister was half vampire. It left him reeling.

After a few minutes, Ruthven said, "enough," and pulled his wrist away, lapping at the wound until it sealed.

Carmilla blinked sleepily at them, then her eyes fell shut and stayed that way. Ruthven moved away as Sangre stepped forward to settle her more comfortably, smoothing the blankets and her hair for several long, agonizing minutes.

"Will she be all right?" Aubrey asked when he could no longer bear the silence.

"More than," Ruthven said, idly lapping at the drying blood on his arm. "My blood was the best possible way for her to start. She has gone her entire life without feeding properly, so starting with vampire blood is good for her. My body has already processed the blood, and her body can now learn how to do it properly. In addition to that, my blood type can accept all blood types. She will never be anyone's Pet."

Aubrey glared at him. "What in the hell are you?"

Ruthven smiled, looking like a particularly lazy and satisfied cat. "Only yours, Master."

"Blood types," Sangre said. "You just mentioned blood types. Is that actually true, then? How the hell do you know such a thing?"

"Perhaps we should discuss this elsewhere," Ruthven said, "and let the lady sleep."

"My study, now," Sangre snapped, and did not wait for a reply, but stalked from the room.

Aubrey looked at Ruthven, but only shook his head and led the way from the room.

In Sangre's study, Aubrey took one of the chairs in front of the desk, motioning for Ruthven to take the other.

Sangre stared at Ruthven. "So tell me who you really are and how you came to possess so much forbidden knowledge."

"I am nothing save a Pet who knows more than he should."

Sangre glared. "I do not believe that for a moment—not when I know how you saved Gilles's life, and not with all you have just said."

Ruthven shrugged. "Whatever I may have been, I am that no longer. I belong to Aubrey, that is the truth."

Aubrey spoke before Sangre lost his temper. "So what's this about blood types? You speak of them as though it is known fact, when only days ago my father said it was merely a highly contested theory."

"It is forgotten," Ruthven said softly. "Vampires are born, you might say, with a blank canvas, so far as blood is concerned. That is why we can survive on animal blood, though it keeps us in a weakened state. What we truly crave and require is human blood, but once the blood of a human is tasted, that blank canvas takes on the image, if you will, of that first taste. After that, only a matching blood will suffice. Our bodies ceases being able to tolerate any other type. Except…"

"Except what?" Aubrey asked when Ruthven fell silent.

"There are two very special types of blood. One is what you might call a free provider—meaning any vampire can drink it, no matter what their personal type might be. The other, my type, is a free drinker. It means I can feed upon whomever I want, without any sort of difficulty."

Aubrey frowned. "Wouldn't it make more sense, then, to ensure that all vampires are free drinkers?"

"That is how it was done once," Ruthven said softly. "Problems arose."

Sangre looked at him. "What are you?"

"Aubrey's Pet," Ruthven replied. "You can keep asking, but my answer will never change."

"Why?" Aubrey asked. "It's obvious you don't need me."

Ruthven smiled at him in a way that made Aubrey's heart speed up. "On the contrary, Master, I need you quite badly."

Aubrey looked way, cheeks heating, not quite certain what to say. He was spared figuring it out when Ruthven abruptly stood and headed for the door.

"Where are you going?" Sangre demanded.

Ruthven bared his teeth in a feral smile. "Your daughter will wake soon," he said. "I am going to find her a proper meal. Shall I feed her William or your brother? Or fetch them both, and let her decide?"

Aubrey shivered, to see Ruthven look so. If he had ever played at being mild and submissive, no sign of it remained. He stood up and moved toward Ruthven. "Why would you do all this?" he asked, staring up into Ruthven's dark eyes.

"Because I want to," Ruthven said, "and it has been a long time since I have wanted anything. Do you want to join me in the hunt? I think William would make a better meal, hmm?"

"You know where William is?" Aubrey asked.

Ruthven shook his head. "No, but he will not be hard to find."

"Then let's go find him, though I think my sister deserves something better than that."

Ruthven smiled again, and Aubrey though of wild animals—wolves and feral cats or a circling hawk. "Revenge, Master, often has a sweet taste. I assure you, she will not complain." He bowed to Sangre. "My lord."

Farewell given, he turned and strode out.

Waving at his father, wondering what the hell was going to happen next, Aubrey followed him out.