Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

1981, Chicago, Illinois, USA…

Kaladin had trouble sleeping, always had. It was something about the silence, about the darkness, about the turbulence in his mind, about… something. The insomnia ate at him, fogged his mind and made him hate being awake. Too bad he couldn’t sleep. 

He groaned, slipping out of his bed, which was really just a twin sized mattress laid on the ground, and rubbed his eyes. He felt infinitely tired, infinitely awake, in the terrible, horrible limbo. He could lay down for hours and not manage to get a wink of sleep. 

Shuffling out of his room into the small kitchenette of the apartment he shared with Moash, he opened the small cabinet next to the fridge, grabbing his caffeine pills. Damn. he was almost out. He grabbed a cup of water and took two. If he was going to be awake all damn night, he might as well be wide awake. His half-wakefulness, half bone-deep exhaustion did nothing. He was determined to do something with his time. 

He ended up standing around, waiting for the caffeine pills to kick in, swaying slightly in the middle of the kitchen; when he heard faint mumbles. He froze, immediately coming alert. Who was in his house? Well, apartment. Moash was… Moash was supposed to be at its night job. Maybe it had off today, maybe it had brought friends over. Kaladin listened. Friends… into their basement? Their empty basement, that wasn’t really theirs and was used for the light system for the complex? 

Kaladin should ignore it. Any intruders would not be in the barren basement, and so it must be the landlord, or Moash doing some of the weird edgy shit he always did. Regardless, he stepped towards the basement door, opening it slowly and quietly. 

The talking got louder as he stepped softly down the stairs. It’s nothing, it's nothing, there's not an intruder, he kept telling himself. The caffeine pills had finally kicked in, but they mixed with his adrenaline until he was nauseous and dizzy with panic. 

He stood in front of the door that opened the basement formally— why there were two separate doors, one at the top and one at the bottom, he didn’t know— listening to the conversation. He listened to the landlord speak, like ‘lightswitch’ or ‘heater’ or literally anything that would justify Kaladin not having to open this door just go back upstairs.

“It’s certainly a powerful ritual, Moash.” What.

“It’s just a fraction of the power that my grandsire grants me.” What the fuck. 

Kaladin frowned, the sounds drowning out in his mind as he tried to start to comprehend what he’d just heard. Moash was down there, with friends, doing edgy shit. Okay. Okay, that means he's safe. He can go back upstairs, pretend he never went down here. But something in their tone, something in the way the air seemed to shift around him, radiating from the basement, made him hesitant. It seemed… dangerous. Alluring. Undeniably, alarmingly irresistible. 

He pushed open the door. 

***

Leshwi stood, watching with detached curiosity, as Moash crouched in the center of a ring of engravings, complex and ancient glyphs. They did not glow like some bad Hollywood movie. They did not, but any vampire could feel the power that coursed through the markings. They weren’t exactly sure why they agreed to this, to follow Moash into his basement. It had said something about ‘Odium’s power’, and they were sure this was just a way to try and convert them. It was some form of ritual, formed from magic leylines in the earth. This was a hotspot, apparently.

It wasn’t really working, because Leshwi was over two thousand years old, and had seen Odium's powers, and corruption, enough to not be moved. And because Adolin just… could not seem to give a shit about anything. 

Moash turned to them, its uncanny tan eyes sheening. Its skin seemed to glow, fangs glistening in some nonexistent light. Adolin, next to Leshwi, grimaced. 

“So?” Moash asked, its tone both searching and confident. It was but a fledgling, barely 40 years old, including its human years. It wanted to impress, wanted them to tell it good job and pat it on the head. Adolin’s hand moved to his waistband instead. He had never been especially fond of the concept of mercy, and Moash was currently only alive by Leshwi’s grace. 

“It’s certainly a powerful ritual, Moash,” Leshwi said. Adolin has expressed his confusion, and outright dislike, at her mediating personality towards enemies and– anyone who wasn’t Adolin or his like. She was unnaturally aggressive when she knew she could control someone, and borderline gentle to those who couldn’t. Thus, they were talking with Moash, instead of shooting it in the head. 

“It’s just a fraction of power that my grandsire grants me,” Moash said, its words practically pleading. Odium’s forces had been diminished significantly in the past centuries. Their leaders were all ancient, all old as or older than Leshwi. Some had been discovered by the modern government— not as vampires, but as identity frauds— or killed by wars, or by insanity. 

It took a lot to make a vampire go insane. Leshwi was sure of that. The weight of centuries, of millennia, were heavy. But by all rights, if a vampire lived a normal life, they could live to over half an eon old and be perfectly mentally stable. It was Odium’s influence, their grandsire manipulating their minds. The strain of it caused… instability. 

The fact was, Odium desperately wanted her to join him. And Adolin by proxy, considering his ancestry. Being the full blooded son of the Blackthorn was a thing only two vampires could say, and Adolin’s brother was… inaccessible to Odium.

So, Moash, the youngest of His vampires, had been desperately trying to display its power to them, in some effort to switch them. There was always psychological torture, offering release through Odium, and it had tried that, until it realized Leshwi’s fears were repressed in the depths of her mind, locked away from even her. And Adolin… he turned it back on Moash, and that had been that.

“It’s nothing I can’t do myself, Moash,” Adolin drawled, incredibly bored. “If you’re gonna make us come all the way to your shitty apartment, at least show us something interesting.” She shot him a warning look. Adolin could complain about her passivity all he liked, but there was no good reason to anger a vampire unnecessarily. 

“You–” Moash began when–

A creak of the door interrupted them, and all three of their heads whipped around to stare. Whoever managed to sneak down here without being heard– well, considering vampires’ heightened hearing, it was impressive. 

“What,” a young man with black hair breathed, “the fuck.” He stood there for a few more seconds, just as frozen as the three vampires. 

Moash’s eyes seem to shine looking at the man, looking… hungry. Shit. Adolin detracted his nails- closer to claws, hard and sharp, a gift of his pureblooded vampire self, and Leshwi clenched her fists. 

She would not allow this young man to be harmed, she decided suddenly. Maybe for the singular, petty reason that Moash wanted him harmed, and whatever Odium’s thralls wanted, she wanted the opposite. 

The man sputtered for a few seconds, a cold sweat forming on his brow, before Moash stalked forward. Ah, Leshwi realized, this must be its roommate. The vampire had spoken on its roommate in passing, about his insomniac tendencies, and his college enrollment, and… why the fuck did Moash talk about this guy so much? 

“Kal,” Moash said, soothingly, even as its fangs slid out of its gums, forming sharp knives. Kaladin took a step backwards, stumbling and hitting the ground, looking up at Moash. 

“You’re– that’s– what the fuck!” the human repeated, then turned around and sprinted up the stairs. Moash followed, and thus Leshwi as well. She did not make decisions lightly, especially when made on intuition. She would keep this slightly foolish man safe. 

Adolin was following closely behind, and Leshwi saw the young man —Kal, apparently— stop? He skidded to a halt for a few seconds, scooping something up before continuing to run. Upon further inspection, it was a fucking guinea pig. Leshwi sighed. More than slightly foolish, then. Though she couldn’t say, in his position, she wouldn't grab her pet. 

Moash’s headstart, and youthful vitality, and overall desperation, meant it reached the young man much quicker than Leshwi, tackling him to the ground outside of the apartment. The man twisted his body, shielding his pet from the impact of the fall. It was actually sort of sweet, if it wasn’t a meaningless rodent he was protecting. 

Adolin had caught up by then, holding back at the door to allow Leshwi to handle the situation. He knew better by now, after working with Leshwi for multiple decades, not to get in the way of her hunts. This was slightly different, but the principle was the same. 

Moash had sunk its teeth into the human already, less sucking the blood from the poor man rather than viciously ripping at his shoulder and hoping some of the blood went into its mouth. Fucking fledglings. 

Leshwi’s long vampiric nails dug into Moash’s neck half a second later, pulling and throwing it off of the young man. He let out a pained shout, curling up on the floor around that stupid guinea pig. That shoulder wound was bleeding a lot. Leshwi felt herself salivate. No. No, she was much more civilized than stooping to drinking from an open wound. 

The man —Kal, Kal was his name— somehow stood up and stumbled away, gaining enough momentum to start full-on sprinting, blood soaking most of his blue hoodie into a deep purple-red color. 

“Get him!” Leshwi yelled at Adolin, who shockingly complied, doing the vampire equivalent of jogging after the man. Leshwi turned her attention back to Moash, who was scrambling to get out of her hold. She was much stronger than it, however, with her thousands of years of age over it. She eventually got bored of watching it squirm, and lifted one of her hands and struck it in the temple. It went unconscious. Finally.

Leshwi stood up, staring down at Moash, until Adolin came back with a particularly noisy human. Kal, —the guinea pig was tucked into Adolin’s coat pocket, snuggled into the warmth of the fur— was thrown over Adolin’s shoulder, easily restrained by the vampire, and was shouting and yelling. He lived in an apartment complex in Chicago, so Leshwi wasn’t sure who he was calling for. No one was going to answer. 

“Let me go!” The man was screaming, both trying to get free and reach for his guinea pig. “Who are you people!?” he continued on, and Leshwi noted the twitch in annoyance from Adolin. The vampire hefted the young man up and slammed him down on the steps of the front of the apartment.

He let out a wailing cry, the edge of the step slamming against his shoulder wound as he fell. He curled up on the steps, whimpering in small inhales. The guinea pig made a vaguely distressed noise from Adolin’s pocket.

Adolin was a fullblood vampire, born from two vampires. It made him both incredibly strong– and incredibly ignorant. He hardly knew the right amount of force to give to humans. After all, the only times he'd been around humans was when he was draining them.

“Too rough,” Leshwi said, then nothing more. He had the dignity to act ashamed.

“Well, it shut him up,” Adolin grumbled, looking disdainfully down at the human. Leshwi gave him a raised eyebrow, to which he just shrugged. “What? It was annoying.”

Leshwi let the man catch his breath from being slammed on concrete, each of his breaths accentuated with a small wheeze of pain, until finally he opened his eyes, looking blearily at Leshwi with dark brown irises. They’re beautiful, she thought abruptly. What was that? 

She walked over and kneeled down so she was eye level with the man.

“We are vampires,” Leshwi said. “And so is Moash over there.” She nodded her head towards Moash, who was getting scooped up by Adolin. God knows what cruel and unusual place he was going to leave it. 

“My… roommate is… a vampire?” The human gasped, eyes clenching in pain from having to speak. Damnit, did Adolin have a gentle bone in his body?

“Yes,” Leshwi intoned, staring at the blood slowly flowing out of the human’s shoulder. Gloriously crimson– no, stop it. “The ritual Moash was doing was, in hindsight, probably a strengthening one, in preparation to turn you. Why it invited us, I do not know. We are not its friends.”

The human blinked slowly, brows furrowing. “The other one took my guinea pig.” Ah. 

“The cutie’s right here,” Adolin cooed, apparently done dumping Moash somewhere, gingerly scooping the small animal out of his deep fur pocket and handing it to the human. The human took it, cradling it with equal gentleness. Well, there might be one bone in Adolin's body capable of gentleness. That was surprising. 

“Your name?” Adolin asked, even though they already knew it, and dropped next to Leshwi, knees bent so he was crouching instead of kneeling. The mink fur coat he couldn't seem to take off to save his immortal life pooled on the concrete. 

“I… Kaladin.” Kal– Kaladin, said. “Why aren’t you eating me?” Kaladin asked, his words slurred just slightly, pulling the guinea pig closer as if it had nearly enough blood for it to be appetizing. 

“Hm, good question,” Adolin said unhelpfully, staring at Kaladin’s bleeding wound like a starving hound looking at dinner. Leshwi gave him a harsh warning glare, but Adolin just glared back. She couldn’t be mad at a vampire for looking at blood, but a petty —and slightly protective— anger flared in her. She did not hate Adolin as much as Odium, it honestly was only a slight dislike, but sentiments were similar in terms of Kaladin. Whatever Adolin wanted —which was apparently to eat Kal— Leshwi wanted the opposite. 

“Because,” Leshwi said, “we don’t harm innocents.” Adolin scoffed. Again, she couldn’t blame him. It was a piss-poor excuse. The only reason he hasn’t bitten down on the young man’s neck is because Leshwi would snap his neck. He liked his neck very much, Leshwi would know.

“I don’t believe that,” Kaladin said, rising to his feet, the vampires following. A fear was building in his eyes, and it was cresting. He looked… panicky. 

“You can’t stay here,” Leshwi said, raising an eyebrow at the human. “Moash will simply wake up and then kill you… or worse, turn you.”

He looked at her, then ran back into his apartment, slamming the door. She heard the click of a lock. 

Adolin stared. “So… can we leave?” he asked, already stepping back. She shook her head, and he groaned but stopped moving.

“Seriously, why do we care so much?” he said petulantly, crossing his arms.

“We cannot have Moash, or any Odium-affiliated vampire, making vampires. Even if they break from his influence, they’re threats in their own right.” Leshwi crossed her arms, trying to look intimidating enough that Adolin shut up. 

“But, like, what if Moash just wanted to kill him? Drain his blood?”

“We can’t risk it. We have no way of knowing what it intended to do with that human.”

“Okay… why can’t I kill him?”

“Because,” Leshwi glared, “you’re with me right now. And since you're with me right now, and I am your elder, you will conform to my rules. Drink from random people on your own time, Adolin Kholin.” 

“You are literally no fucking fun,” Adolin huffed. 

The human slammed the door back open, holding a garlic clove. He coated a kitchen knife with it and pointed it at them. She felt her mental index of his foolishness rise.

“Go away,” The human said, voice shaky and slurred. He was stumbling over his own feet, looking close to passing out. She positioned herself to catch him.

“How did it take you like five minutes to find some garlic?” Adolin muttered under his breath.

“Garlic does not harm us, Kaladin.” Leshwi said passively, holding her hands up. “And we’re not here to hurt you. We want to protect you.”

“Why?” Kaladin hissed, waving his useless garlic knife at them.

“Because,” Leshwi said, “You’re a target of Odium’s forces,”

“and we hate Odium,” Adolin finished, staring at Kaladin’s knife. The air shifted around them, and it shot away from the man’s hand, clattering to the ground a few yards away. Kaladin yelped, recoiling back. 

“That’s not gonna do anything to us,” he said, annoyance dripping in his voice, sounding offended Kaladin would even think it would work. He shoved his hands into his coat pockets.

“But- I- I don’- understand.” The man said, his words getting more slurred. The shoulder wound hadn't stopped bleeding, soaking the man's blue hoodie in blood, practically drenched the whole right side of it. It was concerning. Leshwi was starting to feel sort of attached to this human, akin to something that was just so dumb it was endearing.

“Come,” Leshwi said. “You can’t stay here,” she repeated. 

“Where will you take me?” Kaladin asked, slumping against the door frame, puffing out breaths. Even Adolin looked a little worried. 

“Vampires own houses too.” He rolled his eyes, walking up to the human and grabbing his arm. Kaladin had little choice but to stumble after Adolin reach back towards his apartment as he was dragged towards their car —well, Adolin’s car, a dark metallic brown Rolls Royce that felt entirely too conspicuous for a vampire, who was supposed to hide. 

“What about Syl?” He asked, weakly struggling against Adolin’s grip. Adolin looked back at the man with a look of pure confusion, squinting with furrowed brows, like Kaladin was stupid.

“Who the— the guinea pig?” he choked out, then burst out laughing, not answering Kaladin but opening the back door and shoving the human inside. 

He went back to get the guinea pig. And some guinea pig food. And the cage. 

***

Leshwi sat in the passenger seat, Adolin driving the car because Leshwi refused to learn. She heard him sigh.

“Genuinely, why do we care this much? I say we kill the guy and be done with him,” he said. He wasn’t worried about Kaladin hearing, mostly because the man had passed out, splayed across the backseat, his blood dripping onto the leather seats. 

“Not everyone holds the same ideas as you, Adolin Kholin,” Leshwi said. Adolin growled.

“Yeah, you can be all high and mighty and pick and choose who you feed on because you barely need to feed, you’re so old!” he yelled at her, gripping the steering wheel.

“That’s not it and you know it,” she said, hands neatly folded in her lap. “You are out of place, Adolin. You clearly have not forgotten I am your elder. My reasons are my own.” She shook her head at him, and he clenched his jaw, staring ahead at the road. Kaladin groaned from the back seat, not fully conscious, but not exactly asleep.

“I just don’t understand,” Adolin mumbled, swiping a hand over his face. Leshwi didn't bother responding to him.

“Nughh,” Kaladin groaned from the backseat, shifting and letting out an audible —to Leshwi and Adolin’s enhanced hearing, at least— whimper of pain. His shoulder hadn't stopped bleeding, and Leshwi could see with a twitch of his eye that Adolin was getting annoyed at the mess the human was making.

“Shush,” Leshwi found herself saying, “we’re here to help.” Adolin snickered, finding that funny in some way she didn't care to ask about.

“Y’u’re…” he slurred, “K’n’pping me. T’as not help’ng.” 

“Yeah, next time we’ll let you bleed out on the steps of your apartment, Let your guinea pig eat you or something,” Adolin quipped, not looking back at Kaladin. 

“He is right,” Leshwi said. “We’re trying to protect you.” Kaladin just grunted in response, seemingly half passed out again. 

“You’re trying to protect him,” Adolin corrected. “Though I can not figure out why. Is he really tasty looking to you? Gonna turn him into your personal blood bank?”

“No,”  She snapped, reaching over and grabbing the collar of his fancy mink coat. He let out an undignified yelp, the car swerving roughly to the side as he jerked. Kaladin let out some form of surprised noise from the backseat.

“And you’ll do well to stop asking, Kholin,” She hissed, eyes narrowing. “He is not to be harmed, and that is final. Drive faster.” She leaned back in her seat. He rolled his eyes, but pressed the gas pedal down. 

***

When Kaladin drifted back to existence, dizzily and slowly, he was on a plush couch, a thick quilt draped over him. He felt the urge to curl up into it, drift back to sleep, but something nagged at him. He didn’t own quilts, Moash’s and his couch was this cracking leather monstrosity…

His whole upper body snapped up as he recalled the last day– was it the last day? Earlier in the day? God, how long had he slept? He immediately winced in pain, grabbing his shoulder, which suddenly felt like a thousand blades had shorn through it. There was a skillfully tight bandage wrapped around it, and it seemed he was out long enough that his wound had stopped bleeding, and there had been a change of bandages– they were practically pristine.

“Ow,” He gasped, breathing deep through the pain until it subsided. He looked up and around the… house? Apartment? He was in. He wasn’t sure. Light streamed in through the bright blue curtains, bathing the area in a golden light. 

It was… fancy. Really fancy. White rugs, a marble coffee table, and light fixtures more akin to abstract art than anything that could emit light. The walls were this light beige color, cream, with tasteful art hung from the walls. At least, Kaladin thought they were tasteful. 

The only abnormal thing, separating it from any sort of mansion or fancy place you would find on TV, was that it wasn’t very open. This was the living room, he thought, and it was enclosed by doors. Not arches, or just no wall that leads to the kitchen. Full of doors. Which struck Kaladin as odd.

One of those doors opened, and Adolin stepped through.

“Oh, you’re awake– who left the curtains open!?” He recoiled back from the room, slamming the door shut, leaving Kaladin in muted confusion until the female vampire stepped into the room. He couldn't do much but stare at her, still processing… all of this.

He watched as she shut the curtains —wow, those could block light— tightly, binding them together with ribbons. She turned around to face him.

She had light tan skin, in a shade that made her seem severely anemic– desaturated, pale but not light. Her hair was long, so long, going past her waist. It was black– no, dark brown– and pin straight. Her eyes were black. Not the dark, dark brown that seems black but reveals its tones in the morning light. They were pitch black, without a trace of light or depth to them. They were… beautiful. She had high cheekbones, a sweeping, pointed nose, full but not thick lips, and a long neck. Her outfit was odd, especially for the middle of fall. In 1981.

She had on a dark red dress, tied at the waist with an equally dark magenta sash. Embellishments in the form of stitching and jewels adorned the bottom and top. It was… a 20’s 20s-style dress. She was sixty years out of date with her fashion. It was, oddly, endearing.

“You’re staring, Kaladin,” she said, and snapped her out of his trance. He blinked a couple of times in rapid succession, then blushed.

“Sorry. I just realized I never got your name…s…” He frowned at her.

“I am Leshwi.” She gestured to the door. “And the man that ran out with the blonde hair is Adolin Kholin.”

Something came to mind. “I thought vampires couldn’t be in sunlight. I mean, that could be another garlic can't harm you thing, but Adolin…” He gestured vaguely to the door.

Leshwi smiled. “The older a vampire gets, the more powerful, the less influence the sun has over us. Of course, I could not take a mid-day stroll, but I'm old enough to close some windows without burning to death.” 

Wait. Did Kaladin seriously believe they were vampires? Maybe he would be stupid not to, after everything that happened, but… 

She seemed to notice his hesitation, unease, doubt, any of the three, and sat down in front of him, cross-legged on the plush carpet. He got a much better look at her eyes now, and yes- not a speck of… anything. Completely void. He heard Adolin come in, and ignored him.

“Having a staring contest?” Adolin remarked as he sat down on a chair adjacent to the couch. He was still wearing that coat- mink, long enough to reach his knees. He seemed to have just gotten back from somewhere- or maybe he just dressed like that- because he wore a black button-up with brown dress pants, and a long pendant necklace, with… hair in it? 

It was woven and braided, a light blonde that matched Adolin's blonde-and-black, upper-back-length hair. It struck Kaladin as perfectly in character; he would wear a pendant with his own hair woven in it. 

Adolin looked… entirely different from Leshwi. Leshwi, he could pass off as a normal woman, perhaps a bit peaky. Adolin’s skin was almost grey, with only a tint of the tan that it should be present, and his fangs peeked out of his mouth. He had seen Moash retract its fangs- well, he had seen Moash’s mouth before, and it definitely didn't have fangs until last night. And Adolin's eyes… a vivid red, pupils so small they look slitted. Equally as magnetic as Leshwi’s.

“Oh, he just has a staring problem, got it.” Adolin rolled his red eyes, slumping against the chair.

“I do believe he’s just trying to process all of this,” she responded, glancing back at him.

Kaladin’s brain finally caught up with his situation. “Where’s Syl? Where am I? Are you actually vampires? How long was I out? Which one of you wrapped my shoulder?” He realized he wasn’t in his own clothes, in some dark royal blue satin pajama set. “Who undressed me?” he asked, a blush rising in his face.

“Chatty,” Adolin grumbled. What was his problem? “In the kitchen in her cage, at my house downtown, yes you idiot, a day and a half, my butler, my butler again.” 

Kaladin stared dumbly. “You have a butler?” he found himself asking. 

“Yes?” Adolin seemed genuinely confused. 

“Does he… know you’re a vampire?” 

“Obviously. Hoid is a very skilled, very discreet man.” He looked to be considering something. “Y’know, he's a vampire as well, because he's been my butler for three hundred years, but I've never seen him feed.”

“Hunger gets less with age. He is tens of times older than me,” Leshwi said, inspecting Kaladin’s wound dressings. 

“Oh,” Adolin squeaked. 

Kaladin’s head hurt. “What.. is going on?” he asked as he rubbed his temples.

“You’re not very bright, are you?” Adolin chuckled, until Leshwi glared at him and he just sighed.

“We’ll explain it all to you,” she promised, smiling. He’d only seen it twice, but it was a predatory looking thing. He figured she meant it to be comforting. It was, actually, a little bit. 

Once she found his bandages to be satisfactory, she grabbed his shoulders oh-so-gently, bringing him to a sitting position, leaned against the back of the couch. He didn’t have the strength to fight her handling, and figured he couldn’t resist, her being so much stronger than him anyways. 

Adolin sat there, watching the whole ordeal, something unreadable on his face. He knew vampires were weird- recluses, at the very least- from movies, but Adolin was something else. He couldn’t determine if the right word was sarcastic or asinine. 

“What would you like to know first?” Leshwi asked, still sitting in front of him.

“I mean, for starters–”

Chapter Text

Kaladin listened to Leshwi, with Adolin interjecting at certain intervals, talk about vampires. It wasn’t so different from what the media led him to believe —sun-adverse blood suckers who could turn into bats. That was all true— with some caveats. Some vampires could walk in the sun, apparently. There wasn’t much elaboration on that, other than the fact that Moash was one of those vampires. 

And they weren’t limited to bats. Other forms were lost to them; those who knew how to use those forms eventually died without passing on their secrets, but a few are left for them. Mainly, yes, bats, but also wolves, ravens, and just… shadowy mist. Adolin showed it to Kaladin during that discussion.

It looked like billowing smog, looking… polluted. There was a slight red tinge to it, in a way Kaladin failed to describe. Leshwi apparently preferred turning into a raven over a bat, Adolin the opposite, but they always chose one form or the other when flying together. Surprisingly, frequently settled through rock, paper, scissors. 

Eventually, the discussion died down. Kaladin ran out of questions to ask that Leshwi would even answer, and he was getting tired, despite having just slept. Must be the giant wound in his shoulder. 

“You are not to leave this house,” Leshwi said abruptly. Adolin turned to her, looking about as mad as Kaladin felt.

“What— I— you can’t just put me on house arrest,” Kaladin said, giving her an admonished look. “I’m—”

“You,” Leshwi cut him off, raising a single thin eyebrow, “are in mortal peril—”

“Ha,” Adolin said.

“—With an Odium-corrupted vampire chasing after you. And you’re worried about your autonomy being taken away? After everything you just witnessed? With a giant chunk of your shoulder being bitten out?” Leshwi gestured at him, almost astonished that he would worry about being held captive by two vampires. 

“I, for one, think we should just let him go get eaten,” Adolin said, nibbling at a wooden toothpick. It seemed more awkward in his mouth, with those long canines, than it would’ve been in a human’s mouth. Something was… different about Adolin, compared to Leshwi or Moash. He seemed more like a traditional vampire, Kaladin mused.

Those long teeth were longer than Leshwi’s, almost permanently poking out of his mouth like some infinitely more deadly cat. He was paler, almost deathly-like, and the pupils of his scarlet eyes were two tiny pinpricks, like he was on heroin or something. Or… like a bat’s. He remembered a field trip to Lincoln Park Zoo, when the handler let him hold a bat, and saw its small little pupils.

Adolin reminded him of that bat, in that moment, with his red eyes piercing his, a toothpick being gnawed at and passed between his four deadly sharp canines.

“What?” he said, giving Kaladin a toothy smile —huh, his premolars were slightly sharpened too— as he brought the toothpick out of his mouth. The smile wasn’t a friendly one.

“You have to understand how you look,” Kaladin said back. That might’ve been a little rude, he thinks. My mother taught me to be polite. “To me, I mean. I’ve never seen a vampire before two nights ago.”

“Oh, I’m different.” Adolin chuckled. “Moash is one, and it’s not exceptional in its unexceptionality. Most vampires don’t really resemble what you’d think a vampire would look like, beyond a sort of paleness.” He gestured to himself. 

“I’m full-blooded,” he said, and Kaladin saw Leshwi roll her eyes from where she sat down. 

“Both of his parents were turned vampires by the time they conceived him,” she explained, and Kaladin felt the cogs in his brain turn.

“Wait, but…” he began, and they seemed to know what he meant, but were waiting for him to work out the words. “Vampires are undead…” 

“Yes,” Adolin said, clearly amused.

“But then…” He scrunched his face up. “How would something undead conceive and carry a child? Let alone pass on its vampiric traits?” 

“He found it,” Adolin chuckled, slouching back in his seat.

“Some things just aren’t explained with your science and biology, Kaladin,” Leshwi said, which was extremely unhelpful. 

“What she means to say is that we don’t really know,” Adolin interjected, sounding half serious for the first time in this entire conversation. “We don’t leave behind corpses, and any vampire biologists out there have a hard time finding willing participants for study. We just know it can happen. Maybe it is just magic.” He shrugged.

Kaladin was about to open his mouth until he remembered the original topic of this conversation and whipped around to face Leshwi. From her face, she was hoping he didn’t remember.

“I will go where I please,” he said abruptly.

“You will not, unless you’re fine with dying,” she said back, scowling at him. He scowled right back, and Adolin rolled his eyes and gestured back at —empty wall. Whatever.

“Moash bit you. Moash now knows what you taste like,” Leshwi said slowly, before Kaladin could interject with anything. She seemed exceptionally adamant on this for someone who had just met him.

“That means it now knows how you smell,” she continued. “Which means without the protection of a house —not yours, because it lives in that one— it will find you. And kill you. Or worse, turn you.” Leshwi pinched the bridge of her nose. 

“Plus, I have a bunch of protections around the place. It isn’t getting within hundred feet of the entire perimeter of this house,” Adolin added. “No matter how annoyed I am that you’ve… commandeered my house for your righteous purpose, if there was anywhere to be commandeered, it would be here.”

“It’s the safest place you could possibly be,” Leshwi soothed. He didn’t believe her at all, but it seemed he had little choice. Unless he just didn’t listen to them.

He had no reason not to trust them. They saved him from Moash —Kaladin was still coming to terms with the fact that he had to be saved from it— and had done nothing but be honest with him. But there was this... uneasiness he couldn't quite explain.  

It was the same thing he felt the moment before he opened the basement door. Insatiable magnetism, as if he was being pulled to them simply by the force of the universe, yet overpowering wariness. He couldn’t be near them, couldn’t escape them, endlessly pulled into their orbit. It made him dizzy. 

“I…” he mumbled. “Okay. Okay,” he sighed, standing up. “Can I please go to the kitchen? Eat? Get Syl?” He rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache come on. The type you get after taking a hit to the head or a big tumble. 

“Hoid can do that for you, but do whatever you want,” Adolin said with a hand wave, and Leshwi seemed to carry the same sentiment, although she watched him go with a sort of wariness. 

After he got a snack— they did have human food, weirdly, and it made Kaladin wonder whether or not they still enjoyed it— and Syl, he sat in his room, holding the small guinea pig in his hands. She made a little squeaking noise, shuffling around before her eyes settled on him, big and round and so cute.

“What am I gonna do, Sylvie?” he asked her, setting her down on the bed and flopping back. She crawled under his wavy hair, snuggling up near his neck. 

“I am trapped in this house by vampires. For good reasons, but trapped,” he huffed. Reaching into a nearby bag, he picked up a treat stick, unwrapping it. He shifted slightly so the treat didn’t get into his hair and held it out for her to nibble at. The movement made sharp pinpricks of pain move through his shoulder and arm, and he winced.

“What if they just change their mind? Decide I’m not worth the hassle and just eat me? What then?” He turned his head towards her and stroked the bridge of her nose gently, and she chittered into his hand, taking big bites of the treat bar. 

“At least Adolin seems to like you enough to take care of you if he kills me,” he said. Talking with a guinea pig wasn't the most engaging of conversations: She just chittered at him some more. 

He cuddled with her a while longer, mumbling about Adolin and Leshwi and Moash and —god, his roommate had been a vampire this entire fucking time. What a world. He gave her the rest of the treat bar. 

He set her back in her spacious cage —Hoid had to help him bring the whole thing into the room— and fed her before flopping down on his bed again. My bed, he thought sarcastically. It was one of Adolin’s guest rooms, a reasonably sized one that faced a large bay window. He wondered why his house even had windows. The room itself seemed to be themed, different from the modern chic of the rest of his house. 

It was warmer and darker tones, the walls a dusty brick, all the furniture a deep dark brown, the sheets black. It was… nice, honestly. Even the lights were on the warmest setting. The bay window had black curtains that seemed to block all light when pulled tight, which they were. It almost made him forget it was midday.

Whatever. He was so tired, the piercing ache in his shoulder was constant. He pulled the lamp string and let himself fall into unconsciousness, the thick black comforter making the slight chill that lingered in houses disappear. 

***

Moash gasped awake, the sun shining down on its skin. It groaned, running a hand over its face. It looked around, realizing Adolin, the bastard, had thrown it in the fucking dumpster. It had been rotting with the trash, like trash itself, for who knows how long. It was almost full, and the workers of whatever establishment owned this dumpster had already thrown more trash over it, and it pushed away the trash bag on its torso before sitting up. 

It shuffled out of the dumpster, climbing lethargically until its feet landed on the concrete floor. It felt disgusting, with trash and dirt and Kaladin’s blood all over its clothes. It shivered, desperately needing a shower. A well of frustration, at Adolin and Leshwi for denying its kill, of longing, for Kaladin’s blood, wanting it fresh and warm in its teeth, instead of crusted on its jacket like it was now. 

It turned towards the dumpster it was thrown in and punched it, letting out a childish yell of frustration. The dumpster bent easily under its vampiric strength, and a sharp jolt of satisfaction went through it as it went. 

It stalked away as an employee peeked her head out of the side door to stare at the dumpster, now half caved in on itself, twisted with trash spilling over. She grimaced, shrugged, and shut the door. 

The sun cast a shadow on its body as it strided through the small street, the first traces of snow falling around it. That would be all they get until later in the month. The snow reflected off the sun, making it all seem brighter, despite the dark miasma that covered the city, visible to any vampire. For a vampire, learning to block it out was all mental. But if you didn’t, Odium’s presence could be felt in every corner, in every building, every crevice of the city.

Being able to soak in the sun, flaunting it in front of free vampires, was always something enjoyable. It was not a Boon from Odium that gave them the ability, but rather a Curse from Cultivation that made free vampires unable to go into the sun. Vampires were made to be in the sun, and Cultivation robbed them of that privilege. 

Moash basked in the afternoon light, feeling its glow. The sun had no regenerative properties, but the feeling that it had something no other vampire could, and the warmth had its own effect on it.

Moash, a voice in its head rang out. All-powerful, commanding, its master. Odium. Moash started walking down the street, turning onto the main road and weaving through people, but its mind was focused completely inwards.  

Grandsire, it replied telepathically. A vampire as powerful as Him could communicate with even the vampires that his vampires sired. One of Odium's vampires made Moash. Tore a giant chunk in its neck while they were at it, too. 

You failed. He didn’t sound… mad. That was good, it supposed. He sounded chastising, like a parent after a child dropped a vase. Not detrimental, but disappointing. An inconvenience. Odium had a way of getting rid of inconveniences. That scared it.

I'm sorry, Grandsire, it replied, head bowed. He wouldn't see it, but He would feel the submission. Someone shoved it roughly, and Moash instinctively shoved back.

No need, Odium said. I gained more information from your failure than your success would have garnered. What did that even mean? It desperately wanted to ask. But didn't. 

Sire? It asked simply. 

They —the vampire Leshwi and Kholin— seemed particularly keen to keep that human safe. 

They did, now that Odium brought it up. Moash’s anger clouded its judgment and reasoning, believing their interference was just a petty way to keep Moash from getting what it wanted. But upon reflection…

What do you need from me, sire? Odium had an odd way of feeling the vibrations, the emotions, within Moash’s brain. Lezian and Raboniel could, as well, but Odium’s capability was much beyond theirs. He could literally feel if it was telling the truth. That was scary. Terrifying, almost.

I need you to do the same mission you set out to do initially, Odium's voice echoed in its mind. Turn Kaladin Storm. If those vampires want him alive… he is either incredibly important to them, or incredibly valuable. Either way, I want him for my own. 

Of course, Sire, Moash said, ducking under a particularly large man with red hair. The middle was shaved clean, with the beard having similar intentionally shaved areas. Weird. 

I will send Lezian to assist you—

NO! Moash blurted out, then stopped dead in its tracks, recoiling back. I mean, I'm sorry, sire. I mean— 

Shit. Shit. Odium was going to kill it. Squash its brain into a mush with just his psychic power, like a particularly disfavored ant. It squeezed its eyes shut and prepared for death.

It's alright, Odium said instead. 

What? Death didn't come; the panic that was building up in a great crescendo, toppling. 

I understand. He is important to you. You would want to see him be your thrall, not Lezian’s. Oh. Okay. No squashing. Moash shuddered, taking a deep heave in, exhaling heavily. Adrenaline, making it feel almost sickly, pulsed through it.

Thank you, sire, Moash said genuinely, thankful to still be alive. I will not disappoint you. 

I trust you won't. Odium said. There are consequences for failure. And then his presence left its mark with that warning, like a gust of cold wind after swimming. Moash shivered. 

After you bit someone, something, anything, a certain taste was left in a vampire's mouth. Not unlike a werewolf and their scent glands, like a freaky-good hunting dog. It was a thirst and attraction towards what would fill it. If it killed that subject, the aftertaste would fade.

But it didn't kill Kaladin. Far from it. Dug its fangs into his tender neck and drank his blood, but didn't kill or turn him. The taste, the thirst, the pull towards him was unbearable. Almost a physical tug toward him, like the bite had strung a rope between them. It was so easy to step forward and start walking towards him. 

***

Kaladin opened his eyes, returning slowly to a conscious state. He had to admit that the beds were soft, with a mattress topper and a thick quilt. It was one of the few times he's woken up past September where he wasn't cold. He had a cheap comforter and the worst heater ever at his house. 

He was almost so cosy he didn't notice the absolutely killer headache creeping up on him. He groaned, curling up into his blanket, burying his head into the sheets. Pounding behind his eyes, he blinked away at the pain, letting out a whimper despite himself. 

He lay there for an unfathomable amount of time, enough that he watched the sun go down through the small slit in the curtains. The headache persisted, moving to encompass the entire front of his face. Along with it came an overwhelming sense of tiredness, a fatigue definitely ot related to his giant fucking shoulder wound. He sort of just wanted to go to sleep. But no. 

In a bout of frustration, he kicked up his blankets, throwing himself upwards. It just made his head hurt more, the pounding becoming a sharp throb as he stood up, but he didn't really care. Surprisingly, the floor wasn't cold. Holy fuck, Kaladin thought with a mental sigh, they have heated flooring. Of course they did! He stomped the floor like it would become less heated, then stomped outside of his room in his pajamas —even those were annoyingly soft.

He saw Leshwi on the couch, sipping tea —oh, glorious caffeine—along with Adolin, who lounged across the adjacent couch, taking up almost the entire couch. The vibrant blue throw blankets lay strewn across the couch, none of them actually over Adolin. Leshwi had one neatly folded across her lap. 

“Still can’t believe you commandeered my house for you and your pet,” Adolin was saying, not even drinking his tea. Would he get mad if he asked for it? Was it decaf? Oh god, he hoped it wasn’t decaf. As of current, he either didn’t notice Kaladin, or was ignoring him in some petulant statement. 

“He's not my pet,” Leshwi said, in a tone that suggested she’d been saying it over and over. 

“Eh, whatever,” Adolin shrugged. Not for the first time, Kaladin found himself almost drawn in by Adolin. He didn't have the strong, subtle beauty that Leshwi did, but he wasn't ugly. On the contrary, his beauty just… wasn’t subtle. “Doesn't change the fact that this is my house,” he said again. 

A soft but defined jaw, long eyelashes, and the fangs, oddly, made him… incredibly handsome. With incredibly well-maintained hair, blonde dappled with black, and —he snapped his eyes away from Adolin. What was he doing with himself? 

“I'm sure you don’t mind,” Leshwi said coyly, wearing a small smirk that she covered up by taking a sip of tea. She looked like some sort of… diplomat, Kaladin’s mind supplied. Proper and dignified. Hair slicked back at the top, flowing down to almost past her waist, yet neatly groomed, not a single knot or strand out of place. He blinked. He needed to stop ogling them.

“You kinda lived here before anyway, so,” he grumbled, and surprisingly didn't actually seem that truly annoyed by it. “At least he brought the cute little guinea pig.” Kaladin felt almost a violent jolt of protectiveness at his mention of Syl. The idea of a vampire, or just Adolin, holding Syl made him want to lunge at him. 

“I don’t know why you like that little… rodent so much,” Leshwi mumbled, which somehow made him more annoyed than he was before. There was plenty to like about Syl.

“I don’t know why you like that little human so much,” Adolin retorted, which was strangely cathartic. 

Leshwi just sighed, either not wanting to respond to that or not knowing how, and turned to Kaladin, who had been sort of just standing in the archway leading to the living room. His headache had been building steadily until it was almost his entire head covered in a dull throb. 

“Yes, Kaladin?” Leshwi said with a small smile, residue from her conversation with Adolin. Contrary to Kaladin's previous belief, they seemed to actually enjoy each other's company, no matter how much they bickered. 

“Holy shit, he was there the whole time?” Adolin said with a yelp, leaping backwards, covering his hand with his mouth. That incited a laugh out of Leshwi, more genuine than Kaladin thought she could laugh. He was hit with a sudden, overwhelming wave of jealousy for Adolin being the one to make that sound come out. 

“Yes? Are your sinuses clogged, Adolin?” Leshwi asked, still chuckling lightly. She had set her tea down at some point, and Kaladin found himself staring at it as a dying man in the desert would water. 

“No— I— how does he do that?” he whisper-yelled, eyebrows pinched together. He uncurled his body, but still looked at Kalafin warily, like he would disappear and reappear behind him if he took his eyes off him. “He just— sneaks up on me. I can never hear him, see him— he’s weird,” Adolin mumbled, sipping at his tea.

“I can sense him,” Leshwi said with some form of confusion or curiosity. “What did you need, Kaladin?” She discarded the conversation.

“Is that tea decaf?” Kaladin asked desperately. His patience was wearing thin. He just needed some caffeine to get rid of this fucking headache, that's all he wanted.

“I…” She paused, eyebrows raised. “No, but it's herbal tea. Chamomile. No caffeine. It's the only type we have here, I'm sorry.” She did seem genuinely apologetic, mostly because Kaladin couldn't contain the grimace of pain he had on his face.

Kaladin had to physically push down the urge to yell, and just took a very, very, very deep breath instead. Inhale, exhale. It’d be fine. 

“Can I go get coffee? Or pills? Something with caffeine in it, please?” Please, please, please, god let him go get some caffeine. Leshwi leveled him with a flat look, and he groaned out loud.

“You know you can’t go out on your own—” she began. 

“Then take me out,” Kaladin cut her off, frustration spiking again. He just wanted to get rid of this headache. 

“Do you really need caffeine that badly?” Leshwi said, tilting her head to the side as if she was actually curious. Another flash of frustration, building up within him from caffeine withdrawals and the general, very admittedly, frustrating situation. 

“Whatever,” Kaladin growled, stalking away towards what he assumed was the kitchen. Leshwi let out a little sigh, and Adolin snorted behind his cup of tea. Kaladin had the sudden, overwhelming urge to knock that fucking teacup out of his hand. He didn't, but thought really hard about doing it. 

As he walked into the kitchen, the butler, Hoid, turned to look at him. He had this… look about him, something uncanny and inhuman. He had paler skin than most, yes, but that wasn't it. Maybe it was the way his ears seemed almost pointed, or the way his mouth contorted to make way for his fangs, or the fact that he seemed ancient and around Kaladin’s age all at the same time. 

He had the very distinct feeling that Hoid was much older than any of the vampires he'd met so far. How old was Moash, now that he thought about it? Did he use to live with some ancient being? 

“Kaladin!” Hoid greeted cheerfully, too jovially for his tastes right at this moment. His anger was further stoked by the fact that the man was blocking the exit to the side yard with his body. 

“How are you on this fine day? Even though you slept through most of it,” Hoid continued, oblivious to the fact that Kaladin was contemplating murder. Of course, he couldn't even murder Hoid if he wanted to, which he didn't, not really.

“Terrible,” he grumbled before turning to the fridge, rifling through it to find something infused with caffeine. Ultra-fancy brand sparkling water, ultra-fancy brand regular water, 7-Up, Sunkist, chocolate milk—

“Goddamnit!” Kaladin broke, screaming out and closing the fridge door, taking care not to slam it, because that fridge probably cost more than his apartment. He stood up, peering the length of the giant kitchen —why was everything in this house huge? It made him irate to think about. Jesus Christ, he needed a cup of coffee. 

Hoid watched him with some form of detached amusement, his arms crossed as he leaned against the door, smirking. He wanted to punch that man. He felt suddenly guilty for his anger at Hoid. He literally had done nothing.

“You want me to sneak you out to get some coffee?” he said.

“Yes, please, oh my god,” Kaladin said, walking up to Hoid and clutching him by the arm. There must have been some form of deep, carnal desperation in his face because Hoid looked at him with a little bit of concern.

“Alright, then. Go get changed, you will freeze to death in that.” Despite Kaladin’s pounding headache, deep fatigue, and overwhelming frustration, he practically sprinted back to his room, avoiding the living room so Adolin and Leshwi didn’t see him. 

***

They stood in front of a 24-hour diner. It was night in late-fall Chicago, but Hoid only had a trenchcoat on. He watched him for a couple of beats, as he inhaled, exhaled, and no mist indicating a breath appeared. Kaladin had a full parka and boots set, already mildly spoiled by Adolin's heated floor mansion. There was a bit of snow, which was probably the first now that he considered it. 

Hoid stood there, motionless, a look of slight regret passing his face as he stood outside the steps, right at the foot of them.

“I didn’t… consider how I would be let in,” he admitted, frowning up at the ‘Open!’ sign. 

“Wait here,” Kaladin said and stepped up and into the diner. It was warm inside, so much so that he let out a sigh of relief. He turned to the waitress, a solid-looking woman with a pulled-back ponytail and brown eyes. She looked up at him, then looked at him, making him vaguely uncomfortable.

“What can I do for you?” she asked, pausing in her cleaning of the bartop. 

“Can you tell my friend to come in? He doesn’t know you guys are open. He’s from, like, middle-of-nowhere Canada, doesn’t get the concept of something being open this late,” he added an awkward little chuckle, which the woman returned.

“Of course,” she said and walked up to the door, pulling it open with her rag still in her hand. She leaned out, only partially into the cold of the night, and yelled, not harshly, at Hoid, “It’s open, hun! You can come in.” Hoid grinned up at her, then nodded his head as he stepped inside.

“Thank you,” he said, curtseying to the woman. She laughed, then handed them two menus and went back to cleaning. 

“Can we get two coffees, whichever brew has the most caffeine —I don't really know my brews, sorry— and some hash browns?” Hoid said without skipping a beat, smiling up at the waitress with this big ass grin. She paused in her cleaning again, looked up, nodded, and went to make the coffee. She turned back towards the small window, yelling to the cooks. 

Sitting down at a booth, Kaladin resigned himself to fiddling with his hands, cracking his knuckles, and squeezing his palms together as a small sheen of sweat formed on his forehead from the heat of the restaurant, and he fumbled his coat off, it all at once becoming too much to feel.

He growled in frustration, tapping his foot rapidly as he waited for the coffee, his headache getting worse and worse as he just sat there. He cradled his head in his hands, exhaling deeply, forcing his foot to stop tapping.

“You know you give the appearance of an anxious drug addict right now?” Hoid commented absently, raising an eyebrow at Kaladin. He glared up at the white haired man, giving a withering look.

“I am a drug addict, fucking— need caffeine,” he mumbled, wiping the sweat off of his brow. Hoid gave a slightly wary chuckle.

The waitress finally walked over, carrying two cups of coffee. Hoid immediately slid his over to Kaladin, who was already gulping down the first one. He saw him watching with vague fascination as he chugged down the black coffee.

He set the now-empty cup back down on the tabletop. The waitress, who was serving Hoid his hash browns, was now staring at Kaladin with the same hesitant curiosity he was. He panted for a few seconds, the relief of finally getting some caffeine letting him slump back in the seat as he wiped his mouth off with his sleeve.

They both just sort of stared at him for a few heartbeats before the waitress stepped away with a wary smile.

“You scared the lady off,” Hoid laughed, “though I don’t think you mind.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Kaladin asked, frowning.

“Hm?” Hoid said, and nothing else. 

As Kaladin worked on the second cup of coffee, Hoid nibbled at the hashbrowns, insulting their quality in between bites, before finishing the entire thing and proclaiming it was delicious. 

“I don’t understand you,” he said.

“I’d be surprised if you did,” Hoid interrupted, wiping at his mouth with a napkin, stacking the finished dishes neatly on the side of the table.

“I mean, you serve Adolin, but you seem much, much older than him,” Kaladin continued, his headache starting to dissipate, and higher cognitive functions that didn't involve getting caffeine as soon as possible returning to him. “And, you brought me here. Directly against his orders.”

“Ah, but you’re wrong there,” Hoid said. “Leshwi ordered it. I don’t think Adolin cares very much. I don’t serve Leshwi, do I?” He shrugged and folded his arms back up.

“And the first thing?” He pressed.

“Hm?” Hoid just said, before his expression changed and he whipped around to look out of the window. Kaladin tried to lean his head, follow his gaze, but there was nothing.

“What—”

“Hush,” Hoid said, staring at the window. After a few heartbeats, his face relaxed, and Kaladin would've sworn something in the air changed.

“Moash was out there,” he said, giving a very unintimidating glare towards the outside. “Couldn’t get near, though.”

“Why not?” Kaladin asked.

“Well, someone as old as me, as you graciously pointed out, has a certain… repelling aura to us. We can will other vampires away, or even nearer if we want. Moash is simply too young to try and get so close to me when I don’t want him to.” 

“Why didn’t Leshwi do that? She’s pretty old, right?” 

“Not nearly old enough to suddenly expel a vampire from a space it’s already within,” Hoid laughed. “It's much easier to keep something out than it is to get something out.” He cast a weary look at him. 

“We should… probably get back.” Kaladin mumbled.

“Let me pay the bill first, yeah?” Hoid said. “I may be a vampire, but I’m not a thief.”