Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jayce tried to stand up, and the enforcer blocked his path, pushing him politely but firmly back into his chair. "Please, be careful with that. Some of that stuff is volatile and dangerous," Jayce begged. They had already packed up the hex stones, but he was carefully avoiding looking in the direction of his latest prototype. If they left that behind, then he might be able to find a new hex stone to continue his research after the heat died down.

"I believe someone should have said that earlier," said the thin man standing by the chalkboard. He was leaning on a cane, examining Jayce's diagrams and calculations. His uniform indicated that he was a student of the Academy, not an enforcer, albeit a somewhat more advanced student than Jayce. "If you had taken proper precautions, no one would have been killed."

"What?" Jayce tried to stand again, and this time the enforcer shoved him downharder. "Someone died? Who? No one told me--"

"One of the thieves," Sheriff Grayson said, though she gave the thin man an annoyed look, as if she hadn't wanted Jayce to know that. "A girl from the Undercity."

"A child," the thin man added coldly. "Not even a teen, yet."

"Who are you?" Jayce demanded.

"I," the man said, finally turning to face him, "am the assistant to the Dean, Professor Heimerdinger. Who, I might remind you, is also head of the Council." His eyes were bright yellow, like miniature shining suns. He glanced at the prototype Jayce had been trying not to draw attention to, and with one wave of his thin hand, one of the enforcers started packing it up. "I have been directed to oversee the removal of all potentially dangerous items," the Dean's assistant told Jayce. "Which, according to my notes, includes you."

The sheriff produced a pair of handcuffs. For a couple of seconds, Jayce considered arguing or fighting, but there were too many enforcers here, and apparently, Jayce's carelessness had gotten someone killed. He slumped in defeat.

Jayce looked down at the cuff on his wrist, running his thumb over the rune engraved in the stone there. It was a simple spiral; from the inner end of the spiral was a line drawn across the curve of the spiral in one direction, and from the other end of the spiral was another line drawn in the opposite direction, like the pin of a brooch that went in at one point and came out at the other.

Even now, sixteen years later, he still didn't know what it meant. He was fairly certain it was a celestial rune of some sort, at least, which was more than he'd known when he was eight, or even eighteen.

He would never know any more, now. He'd avoided outright exile by the very narrowest of margins, his work was going to be destroyed, he had been expelled from the Academy, and his own mother thought he was half-mad. Caitlyn wasn't even allowed to talk to him, and there was a funeral happening in the Undercity that should never have been.

He'd written the letter before coming here. He smoothed out the slight creases in the paper from having been in his pocket, and placed it carefully and prominently on the worktable.

A gust of breeze from the gaping hole where a wall should have been swirled through the room and flipped the letter onto the floor with the rest of the detritus. With a sigh, Jayce picked it up and put it back, then looked for something to weigh it down. There was rubble aplenty, but then he looked down at his cuff again.

That seemed... symbolically appropriate. He unfastened it and laid it gently over the letter.

Yes. That felt right. The rune and its mystery would remain here, in this world, as he made his way to the next. Perhaps then it would cease plaguing him.

(Perhaps his mother was more right than he wanted to believe, though for the wrong reasons.)

Jayce walked over to the open space where the wall should be, stepping carefully over the rubble until he was balanced on the edge. The city was beautiful like this, he thought. Velvet night spread over the gleaming buildings, the twinkle of stars answered by the warm glow coming from windows below.

The homes were filled with happy families. The Academy was filled with researchers and scientists working. Lovers were embracing in the shadows. Politicians and merchants and traders were cutting deals, accepting bribes, and advancing their agendas. Thieves were acquiring and fencing their ill-gotten gains.

All of them had a dream, or at least a purpose.

Jayce didn't have either. Not any more.

Soon, it wouldn't matter.

He shuffled a few steps forward, and didn't let himself look down. He looked out toward the river, and wondered if one of the lights he could see along the Undercity side of the riverbank was the funeral pyre of the child who had been killed by his negligence.

He couldn't fix that. Not even magic could restore the dead.

The lights along the river blurred as his eyes filled with tears, and he took one last step.

Pain. He was in so much pain. Why wasn't he dead? His arms and legs felt pulverized, as did his skull. He couldn't feel his feet at all. He couldn't open his eyes, or move his limbs, or even scream, but he could feel that he was being dragged through the remnants of plaster and brick and glass that littered the street.

He should be dead. Why wasn't he dead?

He couldn't move. He could feel some parts of his body, all of it a sickening, crushing agony. He could hear, though everything was quiet except for the scrape and rumble of gravel under him.

Why wasn't he dead? Was this death?

He was gathered into strong arms, and he felt the dip and sway of walking, of being carried. Whoever it was must be strong as an ox to carry him as easily as if he were a child. They carried him for a while -- he wasn't sure how long, fading in and out as the torturous jostling of his broken and battered limbs shattered his thoughts into sparking, jagged fragments. He wanted to scream. He needed to scream.

He couldn't scream. Why wasn't he dead?

At last, he was set down. The pain didn't recede, but it stopped advancing, and for now, that was a relief.

"I hope you left a note," a voice whispered, and laughed. "Because you're mine, now."

Why wasn't he--

"Drink, pet." Something warm trickled into his mouth. He couldn't move his tongue to swallow, but it oozed its way down his throat without his help. It was thick and metallic, and he would have gagged if he could. "There. Now you will be strong enough," the voice said.

Strong enough for what? Jayce wanted to ask, but couldn't. A moment later, a fresh pain slashed over his neck, deep and terrible. He quivered with the desperate need to scream, with the horror and panic of not being able to. Then there was heat, fire, a burning than chased his blood into his veins and filled them with an anguish that made the pain of his broken body trivial. It was a jagged, vicious pain that was filled with hatred and contempt and fury that pounded on his senses.

He couldn't breathe, couldn't scream, couldn't even writhe.

And then the inferno of agony transmuted into a scorching heat of spiteful pleasure, almost like the moment of a furtive and guilty orgasm, except it wasn't concentrated in his groin but spread through every one of his shattered limbs; not a joyous release but a spiteful relief that stretched out and out and out into what seemed like minutes or even hours. It went on and on and on and on.

Just as he thought the cruel pleasure might wrap back around into pain, it-- stopped.

Everything hurt, still, but it was dull and muted now.

"You are dying," the voice said, high-pitched and amused. "I was able to slow it, but it is coming for you now, for certain. Open your eyes, pet."

Jayce's eyes opened. As soon as they did, he tried to close them again, but they would not obey him.

He didn't know where he was. Somewhere underground, some room lit by a lantern, in an inelegant heap on the floor. Next to him, lying on her side, her face as close to his as if they were family, was a-- a girl.

She was young, not more than six or seven years old, with pale skin and bright blue eyes and very red lips and short blonde hair. There was something... wrong about her, Jayce thought, though he couldn't put his finger on exactly what it was.

"You are dying," she told him, "but I will save you. And then you will be mine. Forever." She leaned closer, and closer still, and then Jayce realized what it was that seemed so wrong.

She wasn't breathing.

"Your heart called to mine," she told him. "Your despair, your loneliness. It called to me, and I came. I came to where you were dying on the ground and I saved you, and then I brought you here and killed you again, and now you are dying and I will save you again, and you will be mine. My pet, my companion, my servant. Whatever I wish. Mine. Do you understand me, sweet suicide? You threw your life away, and now your death belongs to me." She smiled widely, and her teeth...

Her teeth--

Her teeth.

He couldn't move, not an inch, not to scream or whimper or thrash in terror, as the vampire licked the blood -- Jayce's blood -- from those long, terrible fangs and too-red lips.

No! he tried to say, utterly in vain. I wanted to die! Let me die!

He couldn't move. Couldn't open his mouth. Couldn't even gasp in fear.

She took up a small knife and showed it to him, its edge glistening malevolently in the lanterns guttering light. He would have shrunk from it if he could move, but she didn't touch him with it. Instead, she cut a line just over her heart, if there still was one lying dormant and still inside her, ignoring the damage to her clothing. Blood oozed out, darker and thicker than it should be.

She seemed too small and thin to be able to move someone as large as Jayce, but she didn't seem to even strain as she gathered Jayce in her arms. She arranged him against her in a grotesque reversal of a parent comforting their child, pressing his face to that bloody gash until her unclean blood covered his mouth, flowing between his lax lips and over his tongue and down his throat.

No, no, please, I only want to die, he sobbed in his mind, the only part of himself that still seemed to be his own.

His bones began to straighten and knit. The pain was excruciating, but he would have welcomed that and more if it meant she would release him to his death. His legs, his arms, his skull, his spine.

As his spine snapped brutally into place, he found he could move again. He tried to push her away, to crawl away from her, but he was too weak, had lost too much blood, and her strength was terrifying.

With a single hand, she pinned him in place and ignored his weak flailing; her other hand stroked his hair as she laughed and laughed and laughed and her foul, black blood oozed down his throat like a living thing, like a slimy slug determined to be swallowed.

Viktor paused at the top of the stairs to catch his breath. There was a lift in the building, but because of the massive structural damage, they'd shut it down. Strictly speaking, Viktor wasn't supposed to be in the building at all, but since he'd been part of the initial investigation, he was pretty certain he could bluff anyone who tried to challenge him except perhaps Sheriff Grayson herself. And even she might hesitate, if he implied he was acting on the Professor's orders.

And this couldn't wait for morning. He'd looked through the confiscated notebooks and found a spark of actual genius in them. He had to know if Talis' theories were actually viable.

The destroyed apartment was unlocked, and pretty much in the same state it had been in during Viktor's earlier examination. But there was something on the worktable, prominently placed, and Viktor frowned as he went closer to look at it.

A leather band sat on top of an envelope of thick paper of the sort that the highborn of Piltover used for formal correspondence. On the front was written, "To Whoever Finds This Note," which was... worrisome.

Viktor looked around the room, but everything seemed quiet. His heart hammered as he glanced toward the open wall. His curiosity had always been his biggest weakness. Slowly, dread in every step, he went toward it.

It was a clear night, well-lit with starlight and streetlamps, but the street below was quiet. This wasn't a very busy district, after sundown.

Viktor held onto the side of the crumbling wall to brace himself and leaned over to look.

On the ground below, in the midst of the rubble still left from the explosion, was a giant, dark stain, blessedly leached of color by the dark. He didn't see a body, but there was a smear to one side, as if someone had dragged something through the coagulating blood.

Viktor swallowed and retreated back into the room. It seemed fairly... conclusive. The poor man had jumped; an enforcer or other official had been notified and arranged for collection of the body. But no one had come up to investigate the jumping point, yet, or the letter would have been gone.

Hands shaking, Viktor picked it up, absently shoving the leather strip into his pocket. The contents of the letter were not terribly surprising -- Jayce Talis had been defeated, hopeless, and terribly, awfully lonely. There was an apology to his mother that was somehow both sweet and pointed, and a request that his personal savings be donated to the family of the girl who had died.

Viktor folded the letter back into the envelope and put it back on the table. He didn't want to be the person who officially found this note.

It took him a moment to compose himself. Viktor found himself feeling unusually moved; the loss of a young life was always a tragedy, of course, and for this incident to have claimed two lives instead of one was even more of a senseless waste, made even more awful by Mr. Talis' obviously extraordinary intelligence and creativity.

Viktor turned back to the chalkboard he'd been studying earlier, when Jayce Talis had still been a man and not a cold corpse.

He took his notebook out of his pocket and copied down everything he could. Everything here was likely to be destroyed or painted over in the next few days; this was a chance he wouldn't get again.

He wondered, briefly, if he could sneak back into Heimerdinger's office and rescue some of Jayce's equipment. But the old yordle would probably notice that -- the professor's memory, like Viktor's, was near-perfect. Viktor could, however, quickly copy out some of the more critical passages -- sources, designs, the bits he had noticed about the specific runes.

Viktor didn't know why he felt so drawn to the work. Especially knowing that it had been judged to be in violation of the Ethos. Jayce had escaped banishment and exile only because of Mrs. Talis' desperate plea and the fact that Jayce was the only heir of House Talis. If Viktor was caught with these notes or any materials relating to them, it was possible -- even likely -- that banishment would seem a mercy.

But Viktor felt an odd kinship to the young scientist, naive though he had been. An obligation of sorts, perhaps.

Viktor would have to be very careful about how he handled this. He stood, eyeing the board for any final bits that he should preserve, and found himself standing with his hand in his pocket, thumb rubbing over the crystal that was attached to the leather band.

He thought he knew where to start.

He knew something was wrong before he even made his way through the tumble of rocks that kept the cave hidden. "Doctor?"

The echo of his voice seemed wrong. Viktor scoffed at himself for the fancy; it had been fifteen years since he'd last been here, after all.

But when he stepped around the corner and found the cave in near-pitch blackness, lit only by a small handful of flickering lights, there was no denying it. Something was very, very wrong. "Doctor?"

Viktor fumbled his sparklight out of his pocket and winced away from its relative brightness as it flared to life. The lab setup was much as Viktor remembered it: cluttered with samples and vials and chemicals, a set of mortars and pestles neatly lined up along the side of a table, a microscope front and center. The large specimen tube that had been intended for Rio still stood against one wall. It was empty. There was no sign of anything having been knocked over or deliberately broken, no suggestion of violence or a struggle. Nor had items of importance been removed, as if the doctor had merely relocated.

Viktor turned in a slow circle, his sparklight held over his head so it wouldn't blind him as it (barely) illuminated the cave. He'd rotated approximately two-thirds of the way around when he saw something that made him freeze in fearful anticipation.

The heavy door at the back of the cave, the vault entrance that Viktor had never seen open before, was standing open.

He didn't know what Dr. Reveck had kept in that vault. He had asked once, and been told, "My great sacrifice." The doctor had refused to speak any more on the subject, and it had been only a few weeks later that Viktor had destroyed the doctor's progress and left, intending to never return.

Now, having trepidaciously returned in defiance of his childish intentions, Viktor moved slowly toward the heavy door, the sparklight held out in front of him like a shield.

When he made it to the doorway, he wasn't entirely sure what it was that he saw within. A tangled, writhing mass of something on the floor surrounded a box or device of some sort with a glass dome. Another sort of specimen container, perhaps?

There was a heavy blade switch on the wall near the door; Viktor pulled it into place, and lights flickered on in the vault room.

The tangle on the floor resolved into tubes and wires, all leading into the box, delivering power and at least three different sorts of gas. From the doorway, Viktor traced their lines, and considered the structure they were attached to, the gauges and dials and lights and ports along its rim, just under the glass.

A specimen container, for certain. For something particularly fragile or precious or dangerous. Or perhaps all three.

There was a chair by the far wall that appeared to have been kicked over or partly smashed, and a book on the floor, fallen randomly so that several of its pages were creased and bent. Over the container were, incongruously, draperies, like those that surrounded the beds of Piltover's wealthy.

Every detail only made this room more confusing and mysterious. Viktor's curiosity put a firm hand in the middle of his back and shoved him into the room a stumbling few steps.

He recovered his balance and looked, carefully, through the glass dome, and found himself face-to-face with the corpse of Corin Reveck.

Her name was Orianna.

The vampire who had turned her had been destroyed by her human father, she had explained, and she had killed her human father only a few nights before she'd found Jayce lying broken and all but dead in a pile of rubble.

"He was my father," she told Jayce very solemnly, "and he loved me very much. But he didn't want me to leave him." She sighed and climbed up onto Jayce's lap, draping her arms around his neck like a sleepy child. "I know I look like a little girl, but I'm twenty-five, really. I indulged him for fifteen years, but... he wanted me to be a little girl forever, and I wanted to travel the world. He wouldn't agree, so I killed him."

Jayce was filled with revulsion, horror, fear. He wanted to shove her off him, to run away. But he had already learned, in only a handful of nights, that she was much stronger and faster than he was. That she could scent him from more than a mile away. That her mind might be that of an adult, but her emotions were as capricious and unregulated as those of the small child she resembled.

That she was both vicious and vindictive when she was angry.

So Jayce stayed put and didn't try to run. Not yet. He would figure out how to escape her, someday, he vowed.

"What is it that you want from me?" he asked now.

"I can't just travel the world by myself," she said, with a pout that would have been adorable if she hadn't spent half of the previous night coolly breaking his bones and slicing into him with a knife to demonstrate how much blood he had to consume to heal various injuries, and the night before that punishing him for trying to sneak away from her. "So you're going to be my papa. My sweet, doting papa who will do anything for his darling girl."

Her voice was that of a precious child; her eyes were those of a thing that even apex predators feared.

Jayce shuddered and closed his eyes and did not try to contradict her.

Reveck was dead. Dead, the body broken to fold nearly in half to fit it into this container, and almost entirely exsanguinated. Viktor stared at the body in shock, wondering who would do such a thing. And why.

His throat had been sliced open -- neatly, along the jugular -- and another cut had been made on the inside of his leg, through the femoral artery. But Viktor couldn't find any trace of the man's blood anywhere. Whoever had done this had cleaned up after themselves quite thoroughly.

Possibly, he thought, they had done it in the little stream, knowing the blood would quickly wash out to the Pilt.

But then why keep the body? Why not let it flow out to the Pilt as well?

Viktor hadn't seen or spoken to Reveck in years and years. Had only occasionally even thought about him. They hadn't parted on good terms, either, not after Viktor had snuck into Reveck's lab to put poor Rio out of her misery, finally.

The memory washed over him: unhooking all of the doctor's awful devices from her pale skin, once so pretty but at the end only a dull gray. Her old eyes had gone blind, but she still knew the scent of him as he crept close to her. He fed her one last mushroom and hauled her huge head into his lap. Her skin was cold and clammy, but she had been Viktor's first true friend, and he found it comforting. She'd nuzzled at him, gentle and sad, and then faded away. Viktor had waited until he was sure her heart had stopped and she couldn't be revived before finally putting her head back down on the floor.

He would have given her a funeral pyre, if he'd been able, but even in her last weakened state, she'd weighed several times more than him. Instead, he had hugged her one last time, swallowing his tears, and walked away.

There had been a tank in the alcove nearby, a tall, wide tube, that had clearly been set there to keep her in. He thought of smashing the tank with his cane before he left, but that much noise would certainly wake the doctor. So Viktor had only paused to glare at it, tears blurring his vision and snot clogging his nose as he silently cried, limping his way out of Reveck's cave.

The tank was still there now: untouched, unused, empty. The doctor had never found another mutation worthy of preservation, Viktor presumed. It was something of a relief.

Viktor stared at Reveck's body for a long moment, debating his obligation to the man.

Fact: Corin Reveck had not been a good man.

Fact: He had been Viktor's first true mentor. He had spoken to Viktor gently, if not comfortingly, about the world and their places in it.

Fact: Viktor needed a place to conduct his experiments where the enforcers would not find him. Where any mistakes made -- such as the one that had half-destroyed Jayce Talis' workroom -- would be contained and do little harm.

Viktor didn't owe Reveck a pyre. But he would give the man whatever peace could be found.

It took Viktor more than an hour to drag Reveck's body out of the container and then across the cavern to the rush of the stream, where it was deep enough and fast enough to carry the body away.

Chapter Text

Jayce emerged from his carefully-lined packing crate very late in the night, when he was sure he was alone. Getting out of the warehouse was trivial -- its locks were there to keep thieves out, not to keep the cargo in -- and then he was looking up the hill at the white-and-gold buildings of Piltover for the first time in three years.

He had learned a lot in those three years. How to endure pain. How to fawn and placate. How to deceive. How to harden his heart to the suffering of others, when he had to.

How to detect the presence of other vampires and other unnatural beings -- like mages -- within five miles or more. How to burn the blood within him not merely instinctively, for healing, but deliberately -- to increase his already-superhuman strength or speed or to elevate his senses or remain invisible in the shadows.

Once Jayce had looked his fill of the city, he closed his eyes and reached out, searching for the presence of others of his kind. Orianna, yes, so that he could avoid her, but also any other vampires. There weren't a lot of vampires out in the world, but Jayce had used them where he'd found them to obfuscate his trail, providing false breadcrumbs should Orianna ever find them.

There were no vampires here. But before he could breathe a sigh of relief, the sharp-edged glimmer of magic winked in the periphery of his senses, and that... was a surprise, given that he'd nearly been exiled over his experiments. Aside from sunlight, magic was one of the most dangerous weapons that could be wielded against a vampire; Jayce frowned and probed more deeply, finding two beautiful, deadly sparks.

One small pocket of magic was dim, barely visible. A mage who had yet to awaken to their power, Jayce thought. He'd seen several of those, traveling with Orianna. She had enjoyed killing them if she could trap them alone, though even she had given awakened mages a wide berth.

The other was live magic, weak but real, unfocused. Like a child playing with fire. The taste of it was oddly familiar, too. Jayce tried to remember all the mages he had encountered (and avoided) while traveling with Orianna, but none quite fit. He was likely forgetting a few; mages, although still rare, were more numerous in the world than vampires.

He should go immediately. Make his arrangements to leave Piltover as quickly as possible. There were other places with libraries, even if Piltover Academy's was the best. And if there were two inexperienced mages here, in a city renowned for having nothing to do with the arcane? They would burn the place to the ground if they were lucky.

But curiosity nagged at him, tugging at his hem like a persistent child. Finally, he gave in. He would investigate, and if necessary -- if possible -- kill the mage before they could unleash something terrible entirely by accident.

But if he were going to do that, he needed to feed. Hunger was clawing at his throat; he'd burned through his reserves keeping himself hidden for the voyage here.

He scented the air again, this time searching for fear and rage and violence. Those were easy to find -- they surrounded him in every town and city -- but there was a knot of them to the northeast. He consulted his mental map and recalled: Stillwater Prison.

It would suffice. He looked around once more to get his bearings, then loped off in the direction of the river, moving too swiftly for human eyes to see.

Viktor considered his calculations. They should work. As long as the rotary oscillator held together, given the dubious quality of the solder he'd scrounged. He dropped a hex stone into the chamber and pulled on his goggles before triggering the switch.

The device began to move. Faster, and faster still, and the hex stone was beginning to spin in sympathy, wobbling slightly but gaining speed.

Faster. Faster. The oscillator was rattling, now, frantic, and Viktor glanced away from the hex stone long enough to check the gain. Too much. But if it could hold together for just a moment longer--

A loud, startling crack! echoed through the cave as a jolt of -- lightning? magical energy? -- speared the oscillator and snapped one of it supports in half. Viktor flinched, instinctively covering his head with his arms as it hit the table and its own momentum flung it across the room, narrowly missing him. It crashed loudly against the far wall and fell to the rocky floor in clattering pieces.

The hex stone, not yet moving fast enough to stabilize its resonance, clattered back to the bottom of its chamber in a small flurry of blue sparks.

"Damn," Viktor muttered, stabbing irritably at the switch to shut down the power. "Damn, damn, damn." Shoddy materials. Why, he wondered for the thousandth time, did arcane studies have be in violation of Piltover's Ethos? If he'd been able to stay at the Academy to do this research, where he could trust the quality of the parts he bought, he'd be years ahead by now.

He gathered up the broken bits of his oscillator and tossed them into the box of scrap, then shoved his fingers through his hair. He needed to take a break. Eat something, maybe.

He pulled the coins from his pocket and considered them. Three more meals, he thought, and then he would have to pause his research to do the kind of work that actually made money. More delays. He gathered a cloak around himself against the chill of the late evening air and made his way slowly and carefully out of the cave.

There was a man standing near the entrance, leaning against an outcropping and blocking the path. Viktor took a tighter grip on his cane. He was no fighter, but men of this size were prone to underestimating him, and this man seemed to be alone, giving VIktor a slight edge.

The man didn't threaten him, though, or pretend to be overly friendly in order to get closer. His head cocked to one side. "You look familiar," he said. "Do I know you?"

"I very much doubt it," Viktor said levelly. "Excuse me, please. I have things to do."

The man did not step aside. "That accent..." His fingers snapped. "You were the Dean's assistant!"

Viktor paused. "That was several years ago," he said warily. "Why would someone who recognizes me as Heimerdinger's old assistant be in this part of Zaun?"

"I think you're the person I'm looking for," the man said with a charming, affable smile. "Did you, by any chance, steal my research?"

"I would never," Viktor snapped in offense.

"Are you sure about that?" He grabbed Viktor's arm -- which Viktor had not thought he was close enough to do -- and turned it to reveal the crystal with its split spiral design on the inside of Viktor's wrist. His fingers were cold; he must have been waiting out here for Viktor for some time. "Because you're wearing my crystal."

"Your--" Viktor paused and looked at the man again. He had hazel eyes that shone like brass in the little bit of light that filtered into this area from the power plant above them, and short, dark hair. "You're Jayce Talis."

Jayce smiled easily, though he didn't release his hold on Viktor's arm. "Good memory," he said. "I never did get your name."

"...It's Viktor," he said absently, still trying to swim through the shock. "But... you're dead."

Jayce looked away, releasing Viktor's arm. "The fall didn't kill me. Not entirely."

"Even so, you should have been-- What happened?"

"That is a very good question," Jayce admitted. "Look, I've been waiting for you out here for a couple of hours, at least. Can we at least sit down for a bit?" He nodded toward the cave entrance, behind Viktor.

"I-- Yes, I suppose so. Do, ah. Do you want your bracelet back?" He unfastened the cuff and held it out.

Jayce reached for it, and paused, his fingers a few inches shy of the stone. "...No," he said, pulling his arm back. "I gave it up, and you persevered. It feels right for you to keep it."

"All right." Viktor put it back on and then took a couple of steps back toward the cave, and Jayce followed. "Why didn't you just come in, instead of waiting out here?"

Jayce's shrugged. "I don't just walk into people's homes uninvited," he said, mouth pursing in mild indignation. "My mother would have appeared out of nowhere just to smack my knuckles with her spoon if I spurned her lessons like that."

Viktor allowed himself a smile at the image; for a man as large as Jayce to be so cowed by the idea of his mother's scolding was actually rather adorable. "Consider yourself invited, then, I suppose."

"My knuckles thank you," Jayce said, grinning boyishly.

Viktor snorted as he entered the main cavern, Jayce only a couple of steps behind him. "I do not have much, but there are some chairs over there." He waved toward the corner of the cavern that Reveck had set up for living in, and which Viktor had taken over along with the lab. It wasn't much: a bed, a table with a couple of chairs for eating, a barebones bathroom. He didn't even know why Reveck had kept a second chair at the table. Perhaps it made him feel somewhat less lonely, to think that someone might visit.

Jayce ignored the chairs, though. He went straight over to the worktable and looked down at the notebooks Viktor had spread open there, Vikor's own notes that had been built, as much as possible, from what he'd been able to glean from Jayce's before they were destroyed.

"Ah, Jayce?"

"Mm?" Jayce flipped back a page, and then another, brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"You were going to tell me how you survived your fall."

"Was I?" He wasn't paying any attention to Viktor at all, now, just flipping through the notes.

Viktor reached over to close the notebook, nearly smacking Jayce's hand with it, though the man was quick enough to snatch his hand back in time. "Jayce."

Jayce looked up at Viktor, and for just the tiniest fraction of a second, the lantern's light reflected against the back of Jayce's pupils and they flashed red, like a wild animal's.

Viktor startled back.

"What?" Jayce asked, looking around quickly. "Is something wrong?"

"...Nothing," Viktor said slowly. "Nothing, I... thought I saw something." He took a breath, and a tighter grip on his cane. "You were going to tell me what happened?" he prompted.

"Oh." Jayce straightened a bit, stretching a little, then leaned against the worktable with casual ease. "I didn't say that, actually. I only implied it so that you would invite me in."

Viktor took another step back and took the hidden knife from his cane's handle. "So you could rob me? Or kill me?" That didn't explain why the man looked like Jayce Talis, but--

Jayce -- or the man impersonating Jayce -- held both hands up, disarmingly. "I don't mean you any harm, I swear." He said it very sincerely. "I just wanted to look at your research. To see what you've done with my research."

"If you're really Jayce Talis," Viktor challenged, "then tell me how you survived."

Jayce's hands remained up. His placating smile widened, but something about it was... off. "I'm afraid I can't," he said gently.

Viktor took another step back, carefully, keeping the knife between them, angling toward the path out of the cavern. Jayce stayed put, even though he didn't seem the least bit actually concerned about Viktor's knife. The only thing that moved was his head turning to follow Viktor's movement -- and the lamplight caught his eyes again, painting them red.

Viktor froze, mind suddenly scrabbling. Human eyes did not do that. And the shape of Jayce's smile, as if his teeth were somehow malformed. And-- and he'd needed Viktor to invite him in.

Viktor took another step toward the door. "You cannot tell me how you survived," he said, and his voice almost didn't waver, "because you did not."

Jayce heaved a sigh. "I did not," he admitted. "You're very clever; that was fast. Please don't try to run," he added. He still hadn't moved. "If you run, I have to assume you're going to tell someone to come try to kill me, and I'll have to stop you. And I don't want to hurt you. I really do just want a look at the research. "

"I am supposed to just believe that?"

"Viktor," Jayce said with infuriating patience, "if I wanted to kill you, I could have done that at any time since you met me."

Viktor scoffed, and then blinked in surprise, because Jayce had... disappeared.

"I would like to help you," Jayce said reasonably, and Viktor whirled around to see Jayce standing between Viktor and the exit.

"How did--"

"I am very fast, when I want to be," Jayce said with an insouciant little shrug. "Come on, put the knife away and let me have a look at your oscillator. Your design is really different from mine."

"They burned all your notes," Viktor said, half-numb. Jayce was right; with speed like that, he could have killed Viktor at any time. Probably without Viktor even noticing the danger until it was all over. "I... had to re-create a lot of it from scratch."

Jayce grinned, and briefly, the long, narrow points of his fangs were visible.

Viktor shuddered.

Jayce didn't seem to notice. He walked back to the work table -- politely leaving a wide path between himself and Viktor, as if that mattered in the slightest. "Then you're even smarter than I thought," he said brightly, "and, for the record, I already thought you were really smart." He opened the notebook back up again. "And your design is better than mine was. I have some thoughts about how to increase the resonance factor without sacrificing stability, though."

Slowly, confused and cautious, Viktor walked back over to the work table. He stopped out of Jayce's reach, then wondered why he would bother; as fast as Jayce could move, there wasn't any point to a few handspans of distance. Even if Jayce had been entirely human, it was doubtful that Viktor could escape a determined grab from a man so much larger and stronger. So he inched closer, and then leaned in to see what Jayce was pointing to.

Whatever had changed in Jayce when he'd been turned into a vampire -- and Viktor was setting aside a significant portion of the next day's schedule to process and panic over the fact that vampires were real -- it certainly didn't seem to have affected his intellect.

"...so if you counterbalance this with its own length, then I think the torque that gets placed on the central spindle will double, without sacrificing the overall integrity," Jayce said. He'd picked up a pencil and was lightly sketching over top of Viktor's schematic.

"Does it need that much torque?" Viktor wondered. "I can't seem to get the resonance to stabilize even at lower oscillation rates."

Jayce flipped back two pages and tapped on one of the equations. "The graph on this is going to dip and then rise and then dip and rise again. If we can get into the second rise, the resonance should--"

"--stabilize itself!" Viktor finished. "Yes! We will have to test it," he added. He turned to set it up, and then slumped unhappily. "But we can't. My oscillator just shook itself apart. And I will need to take a week or two off from the research so that I can buy materials. And eat."

Jayce considered him briefly, then leaned to look into the box of scrap metal. He closed his eyes for a moment, clearly pondering. "It is almost dawn," he said. "I need to find a safe place to wait out the day. If you can find a smithy or forge that will let you rent it out for a night, I can make the parts we need out of these scraps."

"I have no money to rent anything," Viktor started to point out, but was stymied when Jayce tossed a small pouch onto the table.

"The coinage is mixed, but the value should be good," Jayce said.

Viktor picked it up and looked into it, feeling his eyes go round. At least half the coins in here were gold. "Did you steal this from the people you have killed?" he asked suspiciously, and then winced. He probably should not be antagonizing the Actual Real Vampire that was within easy grabbing distance.

Jayce just snorted. "Would you believe me if I told you the answer was no?"

Viktor opened his mouth to reply, then closed it. "You have a point."

"Rent a forge," Jayce told him. "Buy yourself some food. I don't have endless funds, but I want to see this work." He tossed the pencil down and headed toward the door.

"Where are you going to go?" Viktor asked. "For the day?"

Jayce glanced back at him with a somewhat wry smirk. "We've known each other for a handful of hours, Viktor," he pointed out, "and I'm not sure you've entirely decided whether you're going to try to kill me, yet. So I don't think we're quite at that level. I'll be back shortly after sundown."

And he was gone.

Jayce cursed himself as he found a little corner, deep in the Fissures, to hide in through the day. Why hadn't he just killed Viktor and taken the man's notes? And recovered his wrist cuff, even though the split spiral rune had felt like static against his skin when he drew too close, like a particularly severe case of pins-and-needles. He could have continued the research anywhere, somewhere safer from Orianna. Somewhere there were multiple mages to camouflage the work.

He couldn't even lie to himself that he needed Viktor to do things that required going out into the sun, because those things were few and far between. Especially here.

There was just something about Viktor that drew Jayce to him. Maybe it was the way his eyes shone like twin suns, scorching Jayce with a heat he hadn't felt for more than three years; or the wonder of his mind as he recreated Jayce's own work; or the paradox of such strength of will and purpose contained in a body even more fragile than that of most humans.

Whatever it was, Jayce was consumed by it and helpless before it. He went to his day's rest thinking of the sun in Viktor's eyes, and woke to a memory of Viktor's delicate, dexterous hands.

He had expected to find easy prey here -- it was the Undercity, after all, which had been renowned during Jayce's human life for the prevalence of crime and violence. But it was harder than Jayce expected. There had been changes, over the past several years; good ones. The streets were clean and well-lit, and the people less downtrodden. They called themselves the Nation of Zaun, now, and had somehow won a measure of independence from Piltover.

So it took some time for him to find the neighborhoods that were still barely scraping by, where openhanded generosity walked hand-in-hand with utter desperation. And then more time to find someone whose desperation had spilled over into violence.

It took almost no time at all, however, to feed.

There were still open shops and even street vendors out as he made his way back up toward the power station. On a whim, he stopped to buy a bouquet of flowers, yellow and white and purple, wrapped in a twist of green paper.

The path down to the cave entrance was behind the power station, following a stream that the station used for cooling. He could feel the latent magic prickling against his skin by the time he was halfway down. It was actually a rather pleasant sensation, though he knew once they built the oscillator and generated the power, it would likely be uncomfortable and somewhat overwhelming.

Worth it, though, if Viktor's equations and design had cracked that nut. The math was good; the remaining question was whether they could manifest it.

"Good evening," Jayce said as he crossed the cave's threshold. He didn't want Viktor to fear him, or at least not to fear him any more. And his footsteps were, without even trying, cat-soft, almost impossible for human ears to detect unless they were listening for it.

"Jayce," Viktor said by way of greeting, and the timbres of his voice resonated with surprise and resignation and a strange, tentative hope. He looked tired. "I have engaged a forge for you, between midnight and dawn." He waved at the little purse Jayce had given him, sitting on the table, somewhat lighter than it had been the previous evening.

Jayce put it back into its accustomed pocket. "Good. Did you eat?"

"Yes. Did you?" There was a hint of trepidation in that, and Jayce nearly grinned at Viktor's bravery.

"Yes, thank you." He held out the flowers. "I brought these. Do you have something to put them in?"

"You brought me flowers?" Viktor looked at them, and then at Jayce's face.

Jayce opened his mouth to say that he hadn't brought the flowers for Viktor, but as he did, he realized that he... had, actually. "You... can call it an apology for frightening you last night," he suggested.

"Can I? What would you call it?" Viktor's eyebrow rose as he plucked a clean flask from the chemistry equipment and filled it with water from the stream.

Jayce shrugged. "I thought they would liven up the place."

"You did not bring me flowers that you stole from one of your victims, did you?"

"No! I bought them from a street cart!" Jayce protested, mildly offended. "I'm not a complete monster. And I wasn't lying about how mad my mom would be if she caught me being rude."

"Killing people isn't rude?" Viktor wondered pointedly.

"It's survival," Jayce said. "I try to limit myself to bad people. Do you want the flowers, or not?"

"Mm." Viktor held out his hand, and Jayce handed over the bouquet, trying to subtly sort through a mire of unaccustomed emotion. Viktor unwrapped the green paper and began settling the flowers in the flask. "Thank you, then. They are very lovely." He set the flowers on the little table in the alcove that was apparently devoted to his living space, and Jayce tried not to wonder if that meant something different than if he'd put them on the work table.

"Now," Viktor said, returning, "we have several hours before you can go to the forge. Let us ensure you have the precise measurements we need, and then we can go on to working out the rune combinations."

It didn't mean anything more than a thanks for not immediately attempting to drive a stake through his heart or set him on fire.

It didn't.

A few nights later, however, floating in a clear blue bubble of magic that they had created together, his skin prickling fiercely, Jayce watched Viktor laughing with delight, and burned with the fierce need to see Viktor so happy again. Preferably because of his own efforts.

Viktor finished the welding, shut off the torch, and shoved the protective goggles off his eyes. The seam looked good. On the other side of the cavern, Jayce was delicately and painstakingly assembling their newest prototype, his back to Viktor.

Viktor considered him, and then looked at the bottle of wine Jayce had brought him that evening.

It wasn't unusual. Every two or three days, it seemed, Jayce brought him something. Flowers, food, drinks. Little curiosities. At first, Viktor had believed Jayce's disingenuous explanations: to brighten the cave's atmosphere, to keep Viktor from collapsing as they worked, to thank Viktor for continuing Jayce's forbidden research.

Viktor didn't quite believe those explanations any more.

Two days earlier, Viktor's hand had slipped on the wrench and he'd cut himself on the ragged edge of the framework.

Jayce's head had snapped up immediately, his eyes glowing red even without the lamp's reflection in them. Jayce had taken two steps in Viktor's direction and then frozen, staring at Viktor as Viktor stared back, heedless of the blood dripping from his hand.

Jayce had made a soft noise, somewhere between a whimper and a growl, and then bolted from the cave, so fast that his movement was only detectable in the fluttering of paper and rattling of parts in the wind of his wake.

Viktor had taken extra care to cover the wound in a thick salve and bind it well, and to scrub as much of the drips of blood from the table and floor as he could, even dousing the spots with alcohol to dilute the scent.

When Jayce had returned, he'd brought more flowers and a large container of Viktor's favorite takeout that he set cautiously on the table, as far from Viktor as he could be, with a very sheepish expression. "I'm sorry," he'd said earnestly. "I'm so sorry, please-- It caught me by surprise, and... Please forgive me, Viktor."

And in that moment, Viktor had begun to wonder if the vampire was... courting him. For... something.

Worse yet, now, looking at Jayce's latest offering, Viktor was beginning to wonder if it might be working.

"I can feel you thinking over there," Jayce said. "You're pondering very hard."

"Yes," Viktor said, and picked up the diagram of the prototype he was building.

After a moment, Jayce turned around. "Want to fill me in?"

"No," Viktor said, studying the diagram very diligently.

"I might be able to help," Jayce offered.

"No," Viktor repeated. "It is not about the research. It is... personal." He could practically feel Jayce looking at him. Jayce could sense emotion, to a degree, Viktor had learned. Viktor wondered what Jayce was reading from him, right now. And trying to suppress his thoughts was probably only making him easier for Jayce to read.

"I could help with that, too," Jayce said after a minute or two.

"Thank you," Viktor said, striving for a tone of cool politeness. "I will let you know if there is anything you might be able to assist with."

"I mean, if you wanted to talk about it," Jayce pursued doggedly. "We're friends, aren't we?"

Viktor froze. Friends? He turned to look at Jayce directly. "Are we? Is that not like befriending the cow on its way to the slaughterhouse? Or a fish in the trawler's net?"

Jayce frowned. "I'm not going to kill you, Viktor. Anyway, plenty of people keep fish."

Viktor glared. Had he been wrong? Was that how Jayce actually thought of him? Were the gifts simply Jayce doing the equivalent of decorating Viktor's tank? The thought stung more than it should have. "I am not your pet," he spat.

Jayce jerked back a little, as if Viktor had actually wounded him. "No," he said quickly. "No, you aren't. That was... thoughtless of me. I'm sorry." He slid off his stool and approached Viktor, stopping just out of arm's reach. "It's not-- I don't look at people and just see a food source. People are... are people. We -- vampires -- we're intelligent, we have emotions. It's just our bodies that are different, now. Like... like the vastaya, or yordles."

Viktor snorted, somewhat mollified. "That may not have been your best example. I am not convinced that yordles do not see us as pets," he countered, half-serious.

Jayce huffed a short laugh. "Well, maybe when I've lived several hundred years and seen ten or so generations of humans come and go, if I last that long, then I'll stop thinking of humans as people. But I've only been a vampire for three years. It's hard to think of humans as disposable when the people I love are among them." He looked away quickly, and Viktor wondered if vampires could blush. "Like, um, my mom. Or, or my friend Cait. Even if I can't let them know I'm... not entirely dead. Hey, uh, did you know that it's impossible to turn a yordle into a vampire?"

Viktor blinked. "Is it?"

Jayce nodded. "Yordle blood is too different. We can't drink it, either."

"Interesting. What about the vastaya?"

"They're half-human, give or take," Jayce said thoughtfully, "and I've drunk vastaya blood. So I suppose it's theoretically possible. But I've never heard of one being turned."

"How--" Viktor's curiosity was his greatest asset and his greatest flaw. "May I ask how you became a vampire?"

"I was turned by another vampire," Jayce said, but his expression closed. "I wasn't entirely dead after I hit the ground, though I probably wouldn't have lived more than another minute or so. But before I died, she found me and..." He shrugged and turned away again.

"I am sorry, if I have upset you," Viktor said.

"It's--" Jayce cut himself off before he could say it was fine, Viktor suspected, and tried again. "It's not your fault. She was... unkind. To both me and her victims." His back was still to Viktor, but his head was down, his shoulders hunched, and his arms wrapped around himself protectively. "She... used to call me her pet."

Ah. That explained the earlier flinch, then. Viktor crossed the space between them and hesitantly put his hand on Jayce's shoulder. Jayce stiffened, but didn't shake him off. "Forgive me for bringing up a painful subject."

"It's not your fault," Jayce said again. He put his own hand over Viktor's, the skin cool but not cold, and some of the tension left his shoulders. "And then I ran away from her. So perhaps I was more of a pet than I like to admit."

Viktor huffed, irritated. "You are no more a pet than I am. You... cannot fight her?"

Jayce shook his head. "She is much more powerful. Stronger, faster." He shivered a little. "More ruthless."

Viktor squeezed Jayce's shoulder a little. It was like squeezing a rock. He wondered irrelevantly whether it had been like that before because of all the muscle, or if that was something that happened when Jayce became a vampire. "Do you think she is looking for you?"

"I hope not. It would be much easier for her to turn some other poor soul to be her pet. But she does hoard grudges like a dragon hoards treasure."

Viktor shivered. "With luck, she will assume that you would prefer to avoid the place you died, and not bother to look for you here."

"I hope so," Jayce agreed fervently.

Chapter Text

"Good evening," called Jayce as he arrived.

Viktor looked up from the book he was studying. "Good evening, Jayce. How are you, today?"

Jayce shrugged. "I feel odd. Restless," he said. He set a takeout box at Viktor's elbow. "I brought you some dinner. Did you sleep at all?"

"I took a nap," Viktor said. "And I have already eaten," he added, though it was... touching, that Jayce was so determined to take care of him.

"Have you? That's shocking." Jayce smiled a little. "It will keep; I'm sure you'll need a snack later tonight. What are you reading?"

Viktor smiled back at the gentle teasing and turned the book's cover toward Jayce. "You will like this," he promised. "One of my suppliers for the hex stones found it and thought I might find it interesting, because there's a section that talks about their formation. But there is also a section in the back that discusses runes. Some of them are runes that we already know, but with more nuance of description. And!" Viktor marked his place and then flipped back several pages before offering the book to Jayce.

Jayce took it with an expression of mild curiosity, and began to read. Viktor watched his face until the hazel eyes widened in shock.

Viktor pushed up his sleeve and turned his wrist over to display the cuff that had once belonged to Jayce. The crystal's spiral and its broken line were in the book, described quite precisely.

"It means sun," Jayce murmured, and glanced over at the crystal before turning greedy eyes back to the book. "No wonder I couldn't wear it again. That crystal is inert, but it must hold some echo of its power, like dregs clinging to the bottom of a cup."

Viktor nodded. "That was my thinking, also." He pulled his sleeve back over the cuff. "I thought you would find that intriguing."

"I do," Jayce said. "If nothing else, it puts to rest a mystery I've been trying to solve for most of my life." He gave the book back to Viktor. "But I'm still feeling odd and jittery. Tell me you have the designs ready for me to take to the forge. Hammering out the rods should help settle me."

"I do have them," Viktor agreed. He rummaged around in the papers on his desk to find the design specifications. When he turned to hand them over, Jayce was-- close. Too close.

Or perhaps not quite close enough.

Somehow, Viktor's hand tangled itself in the fall of Jayce's shirt. He had to tip his head up slightly to meet Jayce's eyes.

Jayce's eyes were wide, and his hand was on Viktor's shoulder, his thumb tucked into the hollow of Viktor's collarbone. "I was-- I was just going to help you look," Jayce said, his breath caressing Viktor's face.

"I-- Yes, of course." Viktor made himself release Jayce and a cautious half-step back. He held the specifications up between them like the flimsiest of barriers.

It was enough, barely. Jayce blinked, and blinked again, and took his own step back. His hand dropped, and even though Jayce's skin was cool to the touch, its removal left Viktor's skin chilled. "Right," he said. He took the spec sheet from Viktor. "Yes. I will... Go. To the forge."

Viktor nodded. "I will see you afterward."

"Yes." Jayce nodded and took another step backward, his eyes still locked on Viktor's. "Right." Another step. It felt like something between them was stretching, pulling thin. "Afterward," Jayce said.

Viktor forced himself to break eye contact, to look away. The silence of the cave seemed absolute. Viktor's lungs puffed like a bellows, his speeding heart was a drum's tattoo.

Viktor heard Jayce take a breath -- to say something, obviously, because Jayce didn't need to breathe otherwise -- but then he didn't say anything. His shoes scraped against the ground as he turned, and the sound of his footsteps -- a deliberate choice, because otherwise he moved silently -- followed him out.

Viktor sagged back onto his stool as if some invisible force that had been holding him upright had suddenly been cut off. What was that? he wondered.

He shook his head, shaking off the feeling. He did not need to be thinking about Jayce. He needed to be reading through the rest of these runes to see if any of them could be helpful.

He was just finding his place again when he heard crying. Loud crying, like a child who hadn't yet been taught that crying was shameful and might attract bullies, or worse.

Viktor heard children fairly often during the day; the power plant's cooling runoff stream was just as popular a place to play now as it had been in Viktor's youth. He'd heard sobs like these before, when one of them was hurt, usually hushed quickly by their friends or a parent. But it was rare to hear anyone outside the caverns after dark, much less a child. Viktor gathered his cane and made his slow way out of the cave.

There was a little girl sitting on the rocks, clutching at her ankle and weeping. He stopped a fair distance away; Zaun was safer than it used to be, but children were still taught early to be wary of strangers. "Hello," he said quietly. "What happened to you?"

She looked up at him with huge blue eyes, and hiccuped out, "I was l-looking for m-my p-p-papa an' I f-fell an' hurt m-my leg!" She wailed again.

"Where is your papa?" Viktor asked. "Maybe I can find him for you."

"I d-don't know! I was, was playing with my friends an' I was hidin' an' fell 'sleep an' when I w-waked up it was all dark an' I was all alone and I wanted my p-papa and I dunno where he went!"

So much for that idea. "Where do you live?"

She pointed upward, which wasn't terribly helpful. There were buildings full of families above the caves.

Viktor considered it. He could not carry the child without much difficulty -- she was too big for him to hold with one arm, though Jayce would be able to handle her easily, he thought. He sighed. "I cannot help you very much," he said, "but my partner will be here in an hour or so. Would you like to come inside while we wait for him?"

She sniffled and turned those big eyes on him again. "B-but I can't walk!"

He limped closer to her. "I can't carry you, but you can lean on me, and I will help you, eh?"

She nodded and stood up gingerly. She clutched at his shirt and whimpered with each step as it jostled her hurt leg. "What's your name?" he asked, mostly as a distraction.

"Ria," she managed, between sobs.

"That's a very pretty name, Ria. You're being very brave, I am sure your papa will be proud." He got her into the first level of the caves. "Do you need to stop and rest for a minute?"

She nodded fervently, and he helped her sit on a largish rock. "Catch your breath," Viktor said, "and then we'll go a little farther, all right?"

"Actually," Ria said in a completely altered tone, "I feel all better now!"

Chills ran down Viktor's spine as the girl stood up, showing no sign of distress or discomfort at the weight on her supposedly injured ankle.

He backed away several steps.

"Imagine my surprise," she said, with a sweet, innocent-looking smile that utterly belied her furious tone, "when I came to pay my respects to my dear old father, only to find that my home was barred to me."

Viktor backed away another step, even though he knew it was already too late.

She considered him, and Viktor suppressed a shudder. He had thought once that Jayce looked at him as prey. He knew, now, how it felt in truth. He tried to brace for the end as Ria's smile turned slow and cruel. "So. How long did you say it would be until Jayce came back?"

Working the forge had not made Jayce feel much better. There was still something under his skin, something that itched and burned and made him want to run or fight or something. But it wasn't a physical need, or working the forge would have helped.

He might have blamed it on that moment that Viktor had nearly kissed him (or was it that he had nearly kissed Viktor?) except that he'd felt this way the instant he'd opened his eyes, before he'd even seen Viktor.

At least he'd gotten the parts made for their next prototype.

He ducked into the cave and immediately paused. Something wasn't right.

The beat of Viktor's heart, a constant, steady thrum that Jayce barely even noticed anymore, was running far too fast. And the air reeked of fear.

"Don't hover in the doorway, Jayce. It's rude. Come in."

The blood in Jayce's veins turned to ice. He had hoped never to hear that voice again.

"Orianna. What have you done with Viktor?" he demanded.

"Jayce, run!" said Viktor's voice, somewhat muffled and echoing oddly. But it meant he was alive, and that was something.

"I'm done being patient, Jayce," Orianna said, her voice ringing with threat. "Come here, now."

For an instant, Jayce considered running. If he could lure her away, at least -- but he didn't know what she'd done with Viktor. So he steeled himself and walked the rest of the way into the laboratory.

It was both better and worse than Jayce had feared. Viktor was alive, and apparently whole, if somewhat bruised. Orianna had put him into the large specimen container, the one Viktor had explained was meant to hold a large waverider, a special breed created by the scientist who had been Viktor's mentor for a time. The beast would have been held in suspended animation, an eternal torture, to further the man's research.

Viktor had put the poor creature out of its misery before it had come to that, and not returned until a few years ago, when he'd needed a place to continue Jayce's research. But perhaps the scientist had hoped to breed another creature of that size, because the tank was still there.

Viktor was in it now. Empty of whatever fluid had once filled it, it was just tall enough for him to stand, and wide enough for him to sit on its floor if he folded in tightly. His sun-bright eyes were fixed on Jayce and full of terror. "No," he whispered, "no, Jayce, you must go. You must get away."

"I can't," Jayce told him. Not while he was still trapped in that thing, and probably not even if Viktor were freed. Orianna could run nearly twice as fast as Jayce across open ground, and Jayce wasn't about to leave Viktor to her cruelties.

"You can't," Orianna agreed, and Jayce turned to look at her. She was sitting on their worktable. The old prototype had been destroyed, mangled into a crumpled ball as if it had been built with thin wire instead of sturdy steel rods. "You have never been able to run from me," she continued, "so I don't know why you keep trying. You led me on an impressive chase this time, though. Some of your misdirects were quite clever."

"How did you find me?" He didn't expect her to answer. He was really just hoping to keep her talking, because when she stopped talking, things were likely to become unpleasant.

"Luck," she admitted, surprisingly. "The trail went cold, and I came here because I thought there might be some information in my father's old notes about vampire sanctuaries."

Jayce frowned, and Orianna smiled sweetly. "Oh, yes, you're not up to date, are you? It turns out that Viktor, here, was a student of my father's! He was trying to create a cure for me, you see, but Viktor destroyed his most promising line of research."

Viktor slumped against the wall of the tank. "I told you, he never told me why."

"It's all right, Viktor," she said sweetly, her tone sending jagged shards of fear up Jayce's spine. "If you hadn't done that, I would still be mortal. So really, Jayce, you have Viktor to thank, ultimately, for what's about to happen."

"Orianna, wait," Jayce said, despairing, already knowing that there was no mercy in the cards for himself. As much as he hated it when she called him her pet, it was an indicator of her relatively calm mood. And she hadn't said it even once. "Let Viktor go, first. He's got nothing to do with what's between you and me. He doesn't need to see this."

"Jayce," Viktor said sharply, the fear in his voice spiking. "What--"

"Of course I can't let him go," Orianna said. "He's going to be your leash. You will behave, or your precious Viktor will suffer."

"Orianna, please..."

"Oh, you'll have to beg better than that, Jayce." She held up her small knife, perfectly sized for her tiny hands. "Let's get started."

Zaun was fairly nice, now, but Viktor had grown up in the Undercity. The neighborhood his parents had lived in had been controlled by one of the chem-barons -- he never knew which one -- and the 'baron's street thugs. His family had been lucky enough to escape notice most of the time, but Viktor had seen what the gangs did to the people who tried to cheat them or fight back, the ones who couldn't pay off their debts to the 'baron, the ones who tried to take something that the gangs had claimed for their own. He'd seen what the gangs did to each other, and themselves.

Viktor had thought he'd seen every form of violence that one person could inflict on another.

He'd thought wrong. Orianna was thoroughly deranged and quite creative in her tortures. She was strong enough to pin Jayce down no matter how hard he fought, and fast enough that she seemed to teleport around the wide cavern. She was a monster, in the truest sense of the word.

The worst of it was that Jayce healed during the day. There was no reason for her to show even the least amount of restraint, because no matter how badly she mutilated him, he was perfect and whole -- physically -- by the time the sun had set again.

"You should just let her kill me," Viktor whispered to Jayce one night.

Orianna had chained Jayce to the ceiling by his wrists. The chain was not wrapped around Jayce's wrists but threaded through them, her little knife having painstakingly carved a hole between the ulna and radius bones. She'd hung him right next to Viktor's tank and then gone out to feed. "Jayce. Please." Viktor's voice was hoarse from long nights of weeping and screaming for it to stop. "Let her kill me, and she won't be able to hold me over you any longer. You could get away again."

"Thought about it," Jayce admitted. His voice was almost normal, because that healed every day, too, even when he'd screamed his throat to shreds. "Not for me, but to spare you. But she wouldn't kill you, not right away. It will be worse than that. And I still wouldn't be able to get away. She's too wary, now." He looked up into Viktor's eyes. "All I can do is try to protect you, as much as I can."

That was how he'd ended up like this. Orianna had threatened -- for no reason at all that Viktor could discern -- to cut off one of Viktor's hands, and Jayce had put himself between her and Viktor, had begged her to hurt him, instead. She had agreed smugly enough that Viktor knew that had been her purpose, all along. Punishing Jayce for being foolish enough to care for a human.

Tears welled up and spilled over again; Viktor wiped them away impatiently. "Don't," he pleaded. "Not for me. Spare yourself, as much as you can. She can only hurt me so much, before I die. You, she could torture forever."

"She'll do that anyway," Jayce said. "Don't worry, she's... She'll calm down soon. I can tell she's not nearly as angry as she was at first."

Viktor would have recoiled if there was room enough in the tank. "How often has she done this to you?"

"This?" Jayce glanced up at the chains and winced as the slight movement reawakened his pain. "This one is new. She's feeling creative. It's not... usually. This bad. She's mad that I ran, and even more mad that I almost managed to get away."

"You stayed here for me," Viktor said. "From the beginning. You would have moved on, if it weren't for me and the research. You could have escaped."

"Viktor. This is not your fault. Please don't think that. I'm going to get you out of there, and get you away from her, I promise. I'll figure something out."

Viktor wanted to believe him. But in the moment, it seemed impossible.

They'd had nearly a week of something that Viktor could almost fool himself into thinking was normal behavior.

The horrifying torture had ended -- for now -- and instead Orianna insisted on playing out a facsimile of a happy family. She went out to feed fairly early in the evening with Jayce posing as her "papa," and when they came back, they brought food for Viktor. She even allowed him out of the tank for a few hours so he could bathe in the stream and stretch his legs. Jayce had made a modification to his brace that made it easier for him to stand up and sit down in the tank, and Orianna had watched as Jayce worked like a fascinated child.

By unspoken consensus, Viktor and Jayce didn't talk to each other much when Orianna was present. Didn't communicate affection or attraction. Barely looked at each other. Despite the fact that she was counting on Jayce's devotion to Viktor to keep him under her control, it had become quickly obvious that she was viciously jealous of anything that took Jayce's attention away from her.

So Jayce played her loyal servant and Viktor kept to himself, mostly reading and trying to be as invisible as possible.

But the next night, she changed the routine. She went out alone to feed, and when she came back, she perched on the work table and stared at Jayce for an unnervingly long time.

Finally, after several uncertain glances from her to Viktor and back, Jayce ventured, "Am I going out by myself tonight?"

"No," Orianna said, and didn't say anything else.

"Are you... planning to come with me later?" The expression on his face suggested that he didn't expect the answer to be nearly so benign.

"No."

Jayce sighed and slumped into his chair. "So you're not going to let me eat tonight."

She looked offended. "Of course I wouldn't do that to you!" She slid off the table and climbed onto Jayce's lap.

She had done that before, pretending to be Jayce's daughter even in the cave, when there was no one who needed to be fooled.

But this time, Orianna wrapped her arms around Jayce's neck. "You could take what you need from me," she suggested in a velvet purr that made Viktor's skin crawl.

Jayce's, too, apparently. He put his hands on her arms and pushed her carefully away. "We've talked about this, Orianna. I can't. You look like a child."

"I'm not a child, though," she pressed, as shockingly earnest and as close to pleading as Viktor had seen her. "I'm actually older than you! I should be able to have a lover!"

"You do deserve to have that," Jayce agreed sympathetically. "But I can't be that person for you, Orianna. Go find a mortal to seduce. The kind of man who would fuck someone who looks as young as you look deserves to die, anyway."

"But then they're dead and I don't have a lover anymore." She pouted at Jayce, but made no threats. Apparently this was one thing she couldn't force, not the way she wanted it. At least, not directly. "Fine," she snapped, and got up. "You won't eat tonight, then."

Jayce just sighed and closed his eyes. "All right."

When she'd left again, Jayce told Viktor, "This mood strikes her once in a while. I feel bad for her, really. It has to be awful, being stuck in the body of a child. But it'll pass in a day or two."

After four nights of not being allowed to eat, Jayce looked gaunt, almost skeletal. Viktor feared that he would give in out of sheer desperation, or that he would grow so weak he wouldn't be able to move.

But then Orianna got that sly little smile, the one that meant she'd been planning this. "All right," she relented. "If you won't take it from me, then I'll let you feed... from Viktor."

"No," Jayce said immediately.

"Yes," Viktor countered. Both Jayce and Orianna turned to look at him. She looked cruelly delighted; Jayce looked devastated. Viktor set his jaw. "You are starving," he told Jayce.

"Vik, if I feed like this, I probably won't be able to stop myself. I'll kill you." Jayce's eyes were wide and pleading.

"Better me than someone tricked or forced into it," Viktor said. And if Orianna's capriciousness led to Viktor's death, then that lessened her hold over Jayce. "Look at her. She isn't going to let you have any other choices. Do it now while you still have a chance of leaving me alive."

Jayce looked like he was going to argue some more, but abruptly capitulated. "Fine," he sighed. "I can't fight both of you."

Orianna laughed as she hoisted Viktor out of the tank. He ignored her, limping straight to Jayce as soon as his feet were on the floor. "How do you want to... do this?"

Jayce held out his open hand. "Just. Give me your wrist. If I have your throat I definitely won't be able to stop. And, ah. Close your eyes?"

Viktor might have hesitated for the space of one breath, but then he laid his hand in Jayce's and closed his eyes, turning his head away for good measure.

Jayce drew him closer. "Relax a little," he murmured. "I won't hurt you."

Viktor consciously had to focus on unclenching the fist he'd made. "Jayce?"

"Yes."

"This is my choice," he said. "In case I don't-- I want you to know. This is my choice, and all the consequences are on my shoulders. Not yours."

"I doubt it will help," Jayce said, the barest hint of bitter humor in his voice. "But I will remember that you tried." His lips brushed along the inside of Viktor's wrist like a lover's kiss.

Viktor held his breath, determined not to make a sound, even if it hurt. Especially if it hurt. He wouldn't let Jayce know that, wouldn't give Orianna the satisfaction of his pain.

Jayce's mouth closed again over the same spot again and he-- licked?

If Jayce had pierced Viktor's skin and veins yet, he couldn't tell. All he felt was a slow rush, gentle suction that seemed to pull his actual consciousness through his veins and into Jayce's mouth. Then he was flooded with delight, a dizzy spin of something like arousal and the comfort of a loved one's arms and the giddy joy of discovery.

Viktor didn't know how long he floated in that bliss. Seconds, days, years -- they were all the same. Time didn't matter. There was no time. There was no pain. There was no body. No Viktor, no Jayce. Only an inextricably intertwined union of minds and souls. If Viktor had eyes, he would be crying; if he had a throat he would be laughing.

Slowly, dimly, he became aware of the pulling feel of Jayce taking his blood. The feel of Jayce's mouth on his wrist. The feel of Jayce's arm holding him close and keeping him from slipping to the floor. The pulling stopped, and Jayce licked his wrist again.

Viktor was still held up by Jayce's arm; he felt utterly exhausted, drained -- which was literally true, he remembered hazily. It took effort to even open his eyes again, but when he did, he saw Jayce looking down at him in deep concern.

Jayce looked better already. Less gaunt, and his skin had darkened from its unearthly pallor. His hair even seemed more thick and full. "How are you feeling, Viktor?"

Viktor blinked, very slowly. "Sleepy. And very good. Is it always like that?"

Jayce smiled a little. "No."

Viktor hummed, inexplicably pleased. "Am I going to die?"

"Probably not. You'll be weak for a while, though."

"I was already weak," he pointed out, smirking.

Jayce didn't seem to find it as funny as Viktor did. "Weaker than usual," he corrected. "Try to rest as much as you can."

Viktor nodded, and even that felt like an effort. "I believe I will sleep, now."

"Yeah, good. Hey, V?"

"Mm?" Viktor's heavy eyelids had already fallen closed.

Something brushed lightly across his forehead -- Jayce's fingertips, or even lips? "Thank you."

Chapter Text

It took Viktor a couple of days to recover enough from Jayce's feeding to even sit up on his own, but every time Jayce tried to apologize, he just glared, and Jayce subsided. Orianna's temper had flared, too; despite her having been the one to force tell Jayce to feed from Viktor, she seemed to resent their closeness. At least she went out hunting instead of taking it out on him, and though he felt somewhat bad that she would be inflicting her ire on her victims, it seemed to ease her mood somewhat.

Jayce avoided Viktor whenever she was around to keep from fanning the flames of her jealousy, and by the third day, it seemed to have passed. She even seemed to be quite cheerful. Jayce was relieved; the capriciousness of her moods didn't work in his favor like this very often.

She began to allow Viktor to remain out of the tank during the nights, where he could rest more comfortably and sip slowly at the rich broth that she brought with his meals, to help replenish his blood. He spent most of the nights tucked into the corner of the cavern that had once been his home, sitting on the bed, reading and taking notes. The expression on his face was the one he got when he was chasing down a particularly intriguing idea, so Jayce tried to leave him to it.

It was better, anyway, not to draw Orianna's attention to him any more than necessary.

Which was why Jayce nearly panicked a week or so later when Viktor got up and walked straight to her.

"I would like to resume my research," he said.

She blinked up at him. "What research is that?"

"Harnessing magic through technology," Viktor said simply.

Jayce froze entirely. Why would Viktor allow Orianna to even know about the possibility of magic? She hadn't exhibited any curiosity about what they'd been doing before she'd arrived beyond destroying their prototypes. She hadn't once asked what it was that Viktor had been studying so closely.

"I believe, with some time, I can find a way to give you the adult body you want," Viktor told her. "And eventually to make you immeasurably more powerful." He didn't look toward Jayce at all.

Orianna's head cocked to one side as she studied him. "Why would you offer that to me? You hate me."

"I do," Viktor admitted candidly. "You have imprisoned me and hurt my friend terribly. But I also fear you. I grew up here, when it was the Undercity and not Zaun. I remember the reign of the chem-barons. I know how to serve someone that I hate and fear. It is a lesson I swallowed along with my mother's milk."

Orianna smiled. "You should teach Jayce. It would be easier for all of us if he stopped fighting me so much."

"That may be beyond my capabilities," Viktor said, wry. "But I can give you the benefit of my work, in the hope that it makes me more valuable to you alive and whole."

Orianna looked intrigued. "Can you really give me a woman's body?"

"I believe so. My research, these past few days, has opened promising doors. Give me, eh, a month. Three weeks, if Jayce may be permitted to assist."

She considered him through narrowed eyes. "Two weeks," she countered, "to show me something of value. And you will work only under my supervision. I'm not having you build some weapon to use against me."

Viktor nodded deeply, nearly a bow. "Of course."

Orianna looked over at Jayce. "Well? Come and help him!"

Jayce hurried to the worktable, where Viktor was already beginning to assemble the prototype that Jayce had created the pieces for, almost two months ago, now. "What are you doing?" Jayce whispered furiously. "You're just going to give our work to her?"

Viktor blinked at him slowly. "Yes," he said patiently. "Trust me, Jayce." Another slow blink, and then he turned back to the work. "Things will seem better once you have learned to appease her. Hand me that wrench, please."

Jayce passed it over and then hesitantly began another part of the assembly. He could only trust Viktor, and hope that whatever this was, it didn't end up with them in an even worse situation.

Two weeks was cutting it quite short, but Viktor and Jayce worked feverishly. He really had found a combination of runes that he thought would work. He'd been locked in the tank and then bedridden and weak, and had little else to think about aside from the theory of runes and the way he'd felt when Jayce had drunk from him. The latter terrified him nearly as much as Orianna did, and so he'd spent... quite a lot of time on the rune theory.

The runes for the transformation were relatively simple; the trick, he thought, would be in expressing the exact shape she desired.

They were nearly ready to test. Too excited to sit still, Orianna put Viktor back in the tank while she went out to feed and bleed off her restless energy. Jayce came over to press his hand against the glass, and Viktor matched it.

"Are you sure you want to do this? Jayce asked, so quietly it was barely more than a breath.

"It is only a cosmetic spell," Viktor said. "A complex illusion. It will not make her significantly more powerful, but she will not need you any more to move through the world with ease. It is a step toward convincing her to let you go."

"Is that the plan?" Jayce asked dubiously. "I don't think she'll ever let me go, V."

"One step at a time," Viktor said doggedly, watching Jayce closely. "If this works, I have a fragment of a plan." He had more than that, in truth. Viktor had been cautiously experimenting with lying to Orianna for a while, now, and was successful most of the time. But he didn't think he could teach his methods to Jayce, and if he told Jayce the full plan and then Jayce gave it away, the fate that awaited them both would be terrible. So. He would lie to Jayce, as well.

"Would you give up our magic to be free of her?" Viktor whispered. That was the only true drawback of his plan. If it were successful, their work would likely be destroyed, and Viktor wasn't sure they would be able to recreate it.

"I would give anything," Jayce breathed. "Anything but you." He opened his mouth to say something else, but his eyes flickered toward the entrance of the cave: she was returning.

Viktor pivoted. "Of all the places you've traveled," he said in a more normal tone, "what was your favorite?"

Jayce thought about it. "Ionia was nice. Very pretty. And the heat of the sun lingered in the sand on the beaches for hours after it set."

"Would you go back there, if you could?"

"Why?"

Viktor shrugged. "I doubt Orianna will want to stay here much longer. Maybe if she's pleased with our work, she'll indulge you."

"We're going to Freljord next," Orianna said as she came into the cave. "My father always wanted to go to Freljord. We've ony stayed here this long because I've been waiting for a ship. None of them are willing to sail for Freljord before high summer." She smiled at them both disarmingly. "But if this works as well as you think it does, I might consider Ionia after that. Are you ready to show me how it works?"

"A test and a demonstration, yes," Viktor agreed. He glanced at Jayce, and thought at him loudly: Play along! "The first demonstration should be on one of us," he added. "To test that our theory has yielded the expected result." He shot her a look. "And to prove that we haven't created something harmful to you, of course. Which of us would you prefer to be the test subject?"

"Jayce, I think," she decided. "He heals faster, in case something goes wrong."

"Well reasoned," Viktor agreed. "Jayce?"

Jayce stepped into the circle they'd inscribed on the floor. "Something small, for a trial run?" he said.

"I've wondered what you would look like with a beard," Orianna suggested. She pulled herself up onto the end of the table to watch.

"A beard," Jayce said dubiously. "Well, if it's awful, we can change it back, I suppose."

"Yes, good," Viktor said. He lined up the focusing guides. "Hold the image in your mind, Jayce. Be sure you are concentrating precisely."

"Yes, yes." Jayce's eyes were already closed. He knew the theory of the actual magic as well as Viktor did. "I'm concentrating."

Viktor fired up the oscillator. The casing spun slowly, and then faster, and then faster still, but it seemed to be holding. "Almost there," he told Jayce. "Keep concentrating!"

Faster, and sparking motes were flying off the hexstone. Orianna leaned forward to catch one on her fingertip, but Viktor couldn't tell if she felt anything from it. Jayce had said in the past that the motes felt like butterfly wings, barely enough magic in them to register.

Under Viktor's sleeve, the spent crystal was getting warm enough for him to feel it through the leather cuff, the magic in the air reacting with the pale dregs of its own magic.

"You have it?" Viktor asked Jayce.

Jayce nodded, his eyes squeezed shut and his lips pressed tightly together.

Viktor slammed the charge release button, and the entire room lit up with shockingly bright light.

"Janna!" Viktor threw an arm over his face.

Orianna yelped, but Viktor couldn't see her.

Jayce said, "What happened, are you-- Ow, fuck!"

Slowly, the light faded away again. Gingerly, tentatively, Viktor lowered his arm to see both Orianna and Jayce doing the same.

"I... did not expect that side effect," Viktor said. He had hoped. But he hadn't expected it. He blinked through the spots in front of his eyes until he could actually see the vampires again.

Jayce appeared to have grown a full beard. His hair was longer, too, brushing lightly against the back of his neck. It looked shockingly good on him, actually.

"Longer hair, too?" Orianna said.

Jayce shrugged, a little sheepish. "It was-- My dad came back from a trip with hair and a beard like this, once. Mom made him trim the hair and shave the beard, but I remember thinking it looked exciting. Like an adventurer should look. It's just what came to mind when you said a beard."

Orianna beckoned Jayce over and touched his face. "It feels real," she said, and looked at Viktor curiously. "Is it?"

"Eh... The closer it is to something that your body could do naturally, the more real it is. Jayce's beard is probably fairly close to real. We may need to try a few alterations to get you looking both real and the way you want to look."

"So we can change me now?"

"Soon," Viktor agreed. "This was a test run, so I would like a few minutes to examine the device and ensure it was not damaged, so that it will not fail you."

"Very well," she agreed. She scratched through Jayce's beard again, then pushed him toward Viktor. "Help him. I want to get on with it!"

They were nearly done resetting all the accelerator's pieces when Viktor paused and looked up at Orianna, and Jayce smelled something like... cunning. "You should send Jayce out for your transformation," Viktor said.

Her eyes narrowed. She could scent Viktor's mood, too. "Why?"

Viktor smirked slightly as he tightened a screw and tested the oscillator's movement. "You wish for him to be your lover, do you not? It will make it easier for him to greet your new self as a new person if he does not witness the transformation."

"I'll still know," Jayce protested.

"The human brain is a remarkable thing," Viktor said mildly, and gave Jayce a look that probably meant play along, idiot. "Of course you will know, but it will still feel as if she is new. Like... coming home from a year of study to notice that the scrawny boy next door has grown another six inches and put on thirty pounds of muscle. You know he is the same boy, but now he is much more interesting."

"Not an experience I ever had," Jayce muttered. He'd lived with his mom while he was at the Academy, only moving out when he'd been given the Kirammans' patronage. And the thought of Viktor having suddenly noticed a newly-attractive neighbor was... unpleasant.

Viktor smirked as if he could read Jayce's mind or taste Jayce's jealousy on the air the way Orianna probably could. "Then trust me," Viktor said. "It's a startling transformation."

"It couldn't hurt," Orianna mused. "But he's not leaving entirely. It still feels like you're up to something." She turned toward Jayce. "You can go into the vault." She pointed toward the chamber with its small, coffin-like bed and snake-like pipes and tubes and hoses writhing on the floor.

Jayce shuddered. The room smelled like madness and despair, even years after Orianna's father had been killed, and he didn't like it. Nor did he like leaving Viktor alone with Orianna.

But Viktor nodded. "That should suffice," he agreed, and raised his eyebrows expectantly at Jayce.

He didn't scent of jealousy, only of resolve and worry. Whatever he was doing, it was dangerous, and he didn't want Jayce present for it. Which made no sense -- Jayce was far more likely to withstand the danger, but the twin suns of his eyes were steady. Certain.

Reluctantly, Jayce went to the vault and hauled open the heavy door. He didn't close it behind himself entirely, though, just leaned against the wall and folded his arms petulantly.

"Also," Viktor was saying to Orianna, "if you intend to grow, you will wish to remove your clothing, as it will not grow with you. Here-- use this blanket to cover yourself; it will adjust to the change more easily."

"You smell very nervous," Orianna said, but Jayce could hear the rustle of her clothing as she changed.

"Of course I am nervous. If this does not work properly, you are going to be very unhappy with me. I shudder to think what you might do."

"Why wouldn't it work?"

Viktor scoffed. "It is a mating of magic and machinery that has been fully tested exactly once. And both the arcane and technology are known to be capricious, in their own ways. There are plenty of things that might fail spontaneously, or function in unexpected ways."

Orianna hummed thoughtfully. "We shall see," she said. "Begin now."

"Very well. Think of what you would like to look like, as completely and perfectly as possible. Imagine inhabiting that body. Think of the difference in the way things will look and feel when you are taller, when your hands are larger. Consider the weight of your own limbs. The length of your hair. Everything. Hold it in your mind, as strongly and as firmly as you can."

"I've got it."

"Good. Hold that."

The accelerator whirred as it began spinning, the pitch of it rising as it sped up.

"Concentrate," Viktor said. "Hold it close."

"I'm concentrating," Orianna said, on the edge of impatient.

"Your transformation is much larger than Jayce's was," Viktor said, "so I don't know what it will feel like. It may tingle or itch or even hurt a little."

"I'm not afraid of pain. I'm concentrating. Do it!"

The charge-release button made a loud thunk! as Viktor hit it. Around the edge of the door came that same blinding light, and Jayce was grateful that he was in the vault where it wouldn't blind him. That had been extremely unpleasant. He edged away from it a little.

"I think it worked!" Orianna said, and her voice was different. A little deeper, more mature.

"Wonderful," Viktor said.

Something splintered and crackled like lightning, and Jayce startled. Something had broken, something had gone wrong. He reached for the edge of the door to open it and run to help, if he could, but--

The light suddenly intensified, actually throwing him back.

Orianna screamed.

Viktor shouted, "Don't move, Jayce!"

Orianna shrieked again, longer and louder than Jayce had ever heard from her. "You! I will--"

Crash!

Viktor yelled wordlessly, and it trailed off into a pained groan.

Jayce reached for the door again, but the heat of that light was unreal. He couldn't force himself to get any closer to it.

Orianna wailed, "Noooo!" It stretched out longer than Jayce thought he could bear, and then--

Silence.

The light still held Jayce away from the door.

"Viktor?"

The silence was eerie; the light was so massive that it seemed like it should roar like a fire. But there was nothing.

"Orianna?"

Softly, very softly and weakly, a heart beat. Once.

Twice.

"Viktor!" If Jayce's heart could still beat, it would be pounding in dread. "Answer me!" He choked on a sob. "Gods, Vik, you can't, you can't die on me now--"

A cough. Just one. The heart was still beating, speeding up. "Vik?"

Another cough. "I'm... I'm here," Viktor said, his voice ragged. "Stay put," he ordered, "until I--" He paused to cough a few more times. "--until I can shut it down."

"What is it?" Jayce demanded.

"Sunlight," Viktor grated. "I had to destroy the" --cough-- "rune crystal to make it work. I'm sorry."

"I don't care about that," Jayce said. "Are you-- what happened? Is she--"

"Dead," Viktor croaked. "Gone. Turned to ash. I thought it would be faster, though. She almost took me with her."

The light winked out, and Jayce didn't wait for Viktor's word before he was scrambling to drag the door wide enough to slip out of the vault, nearly tripping over his own feet as he ran to Viktor.

Viktor was on the floor by the smoldering ruins of the worktable, breathing laboriously. Blood was soaking through his shirt, which was also smoking lightly. His skin was burned wherever it was exposed, a painful-looking red, with blisters already forming. His pupils were pinpricks, still contracted from the light. The floor was covered with tiny shards of the rune crystal, mingling with gritty ashes. Blue motes still danced in the air, winking out slowly, one by one. Unlike the motes they'd produced previously, these stung when the fell on Jayce's skin. Sun magic, he thought.

Jayce all but fell to his knees and pulled Viktor into his arms. "Viktor," he gasped. "Gods, I thought you were-- Are you all right? Show me--" He tugged the collar of Viktor's shirt down to look at the bruises already darkening around his throat where Orianna had grabbed him, the thick rivulet of blood down his neck from where she'd bitten him. "Shit, you're bleeding, she--"

"Bit me, I know," Viktor said. "You were right. It is not the same."

"I can close it," Jayce said, "but you'd have to trust me to be that close--"

"Of course," Viktor said. "Do it."

Jayce swallowed hard and reminded himself that he was not drinking this time, just closing the wound that Orianna had left behind. Still, there was a lot of blood pooling in the hollow of Viktor's collarbone. He shook his head clear: the wound first. He breathed in the heady scent of Viktor's blood and dragged his fangs along the edges of the wound. That would ease the pain and fog Viktor's mind with a rush of sensation and emotion, something sweeter than whatever horror Orianna had given him.

When he could feel Viktor relaxing into that, he licked at the bleeding gash, pushing in the sour-sweet saliva that encouraged the wound to close.

Viktor shuddered and moaned softly, his fingers finding Jayce's hair and closing into a fist, holding Jayce at the point of the wound, a wordless demand that Jayce was not strong enough to resist entirely.

The blood he took from that gash was so sweet and rich that it was a struggle not to latch on, to suck still more of it from the vein that was pulsing under his tongue, to lose himself in Viktor's pleasure and joy.

Orianna had cut viciously, knowing she was doomed and determined to take Viktor with her. It took Jayce some time to coax the torn skin to fully close, to seal off the bleeding and patch itself into a delicate scar. Then he licked up the blood clinging to Viktor's skin, sticky and somewhat bitter with Orianna's rage, but nourishment that he could use, nonetheless.

It was made somewhat sweeter by Viktor's scent; he was clinging to the bliss and it made the air around him giddy in a way that Jayce found infectious.

Jayce was actually laughing softly when he made himself finally pull away. He gently untangled Viktor's fingers from his hair and sat, holding them and reveling in Viktor's warmth. As the effects of the euphoria began to fade, Viktor curled even closer to Jayce and slipped into a doze.

"I've got you," Jayce whispered. He didn't know how Viktor could find his cool skin comfortable or comforting, but he could only be grateful for it, if it let him watch Viktor resting in his arms.

Viktor woke with a start and a moment of heart-pounding terror on the heels of some hellish dream memory of Orianna's teeth ripping into his neck. She had saturated him in her own pain as she burned in the light of the miniature sun he'd conjured. It had been an agony and a triumph and a terror. The moment would haunt him for the rest of his life, he felt certain.

But she had died, he reminded himself, burned away before she could kill him. And then Jayce had closed the wound and sent him to sleep on a wave of love, Jayce's cool skin a relief against the burns he'd suffered. Summoning a sun -- even a very small one -- had destroyed the accelerator and the worktable, and the sun had consumed their remaining hex stones and all their notes and books. If he'd been closer to it -- if Orianna hadn't tackled him away from it -- he might not have survived its heat, himself.

He had accepted that possibility when he made his plans, determined that the destruction of her monstrosity was worth the cost of his own life.

That did not mean that he regretted living.

He was still in Jayce's arms, he realized, though Jayce was unmoving and cold rather than merely cool. A lifeless corpse.

It must be daytime.

Viktor had never seen Jayce like this, not so closely. Jayce had slept elsewhere before Orianna came, and then she'd always made certain that Viktor was trapped in the tank before the sun set.

He didn't actually look entirely dead, Viktor thought. His heart didn't beat, and he wasn't breathing, but from so close, Viktor could sense the blood moving sluggishly within him anyway. Could almost feel the slow firing of the synapses of his brain.

Viktor wondered if vampires dreamed, in their daylight slumber.

Carefully, he extricated himself from Jayce's embrace and limped awkwardly to retrieve his cane from where it had been flung when Orianna had tackled him from across the table. He bathed quickly in the stream; it was icy cold, which felt wonderful against his still-burned skin, even though it made him shiver. Then he put on clean clothes and found a few coins in the bottom of his jar. He glanced at Jayce again -- still unmoving -- and went out to see what time it was. And what day it was, because he hadn't been outside even once in the last... two months? Three? More? He'd lost track of time in the depths of his horror and despair.

It seemed to be mid-afternoon, by the quality and angle of the light that filtered through the Undercity's layers, and it was nearly the end of winter, which explained how cold the stream had felt.

He squared his shoulders and made his slow way up into the city proper, to a noodle shop where he could eat properly hot food instead of whatever scraps Orianna remembered to bring back from her own hunting. "Bone broth," he told the proprietor. "I'm recovering."

The woman's eyes skated over his burns and dipped to Viktor's neck, then nodded. "Lucky to have survived that one," she said, and tuned to load Viktor's bowl.

Viktor touched his neck and found the soft ridge of a scar there. "Yes," he agreed, belatedly.

He didn't think he'd lost too much blood; he didn't feel dizzy, the way he had after Jayce had fed from him, and his legs seemed as sturdy as they ever had been. But his hands were shaking a little, and he did feel somewhat weak. The broth would help.

Even more nourishing than the food was the gossip he overheard while he was eating. Things had changed while he was trapped in the cave, it seemed. The Nation of Zaun revolutionaries had apparently made even more progress in their cause.

Viktor had some doubts about the long-term stability of a nation that had little but mines and fishing and chemtech to support itself, but politics wasn't his area of expertise. Fascinated, he listened for hours to what seemed to be a more or less constantly ongoing and evolving debate about the newest changes as people rotated in and out of the noodle stand.

He finally dragged himself away when the light began to fade. He didn't want Jayce to be alone when the sun set.

He nearly misjudged his timing; he was just walking into the front cave when he heard a somewhat frantic, "Viktor?!"

"I am here, Jayce," he said.

Jayce appeared in front of him so suddenly that he fumbled the container of takeaway noodles he'd brought with him for later. Luckily, Jayce was quick enough to catch it before it spilled.

"Sorry," Jayce said, handing it back. "I just woke up and didn't see you and..."

Viktor raised an eyebrow, pretending not to be touched by Jayce's concern. "I thought you could hear my heartbeat from blocks away," he said. "Or smell my thoughts, or something like that."

Jayce made an extremely undignified face. "I hadn't thought that far, yet," he complained. "I literally just opened my eyes."

Viktor smirked, but he suspected that it turned fond almost immediately. "Cannot live without me, hm?"

He expected Jayce to make another face or tease him back. He did not expect Jayce's utterly, disarmingly sincere, "I really don't think I can, Vik."

"...Oh." Viktor drew a careful, slow breath. "So. What... happens now?" he asked.

Jayce cupped Viktor's face in his hands. "Whatever you want," he said.

"No," Viktor said immediately, feeling its wrongness in every part of himself, though he then had to take a moment to work out how to explain it. "You were her plaything and pet and victim and slave for years. And then you were running from her, and even if it was better it was not true freedom. And then--" He waved at their surroundings, the caves. "If anyone should decide what happens next, it should be you."

"Perhaps we could decide together," Jayce offered. "Because I would like to stay with you."

"I would like that, I think," Viktor admitted, and then took a careful half-step back, out of Jayce's hands. "There is a thing we should discuss first," he added.

Jayce didn't move or breathe for a moment as he stared into Viktor's eyes, and then he nodded. "All right. Come put your dinner down and we can sit."

Viktor nodded, and followed Jayce back into the main cavern. He set the noodles aside for later and sat on the side of his narrow bed. Jayce pulled the chair over and sat, close enough for him to hold Viktor's hands.

Viktor struggled for the right words. "How much blood do you need in a day?" he asked, finally.

Jayce's head tipped a little. "It depends how active I am. The bare minimum is not much -- a few mouthfuls, really. But I need more if I am healing, or need to enhance my strength or speed, or if I need to use more... taxing abilities. Why?"

"Because I do not want you to kill anyone," Viktor said. "I know that with--" He could not say her name, not yet. "--with her, she did not allow you that choice. I will force nothing upon you, but I am asking that you choose life. And in return, you may have your mouthfuls of minimum, each night, from me."

Jayce regarded him steadily, and Viktor wondered what emotions he was radiating for Jayce to detect. He knew only what he was feeling -- hope and its dread twin, fear.

Jayce drew in a breath, only to blow it out again. "It is," he said slowly, "very difficult to stop feeding. I managed it for you because it was you. When I was... before she caught up, I... fed as much as possible on murderers and rapists."

Viktor remained resolute. "While being, yourself, a murderer? You are not a being of divine judgment, Jayce, and the dead are, as far as I know, unable to regret their actions. If you have managed it for me, then you can manage it for others, because it is still for me, even if it is not my blood." Jayce was frowning, and Viktor added, more softly, "You are not a monster, Jayce. Prove it to me."

"You drive a hard bargain," Jayce huffed. "But if that is your condition for my presence, then I will... I will do my best. So long as I have you for my reward." Viktor sighed in relief. He didn't know if Jayce would be able to hold to that promise, but he needed to know that Jayce would try.

Jayce closed the distance between them again, curling one hand around Viktor's neck and ducking his head shyly. "Will you seal the bargain with a kiss?"

Viktor put his hand on Jayce's hard shoulder and leaned up to press their lips together. Jayce's mouth tasted of copper, but it was warmer than Viktor would have expected, and he allowed himself to float in the quiet joy of it until he was forced to pull away for breath. "I think," he said, to distract himself from the feel of Jayce's mouth against his throat, "that we should go to Ionia."

"I would like that," Jayce agreed. His fangs scraped over Viktor's skin, teasing. "I would like anywhere, with you. But Ionia was almost beautiful enough to deserve you."

"Flatterer," Viktor accused, though he stumbled over the word a little when he felt the rush and pull of Jayce beginning to drink, the wash of bliss that rendered all other sensation dull. His hands curled into Jayce's hair and he pressed himself closer to his lover. "Tell me more."