Loki stood there, letting the lecture sink in. He began chewing on the corner of his lower lip and glanced up at Eros walking further down the sidewalk.
After a moment he followed Eros, but didn’t make up much of the distance until reaching Black Rose Cemetery’s bricked walls.
Loki cleared his throat, and Eros looked over at him, but then carried on like he hadn’t heard him.
Loki said, “I- Uh, listen, that’s not… exactly… the way I meant it-”
“What did you mean then?”
Loki struggled to find a way to reword it that would sound better than what came out the first time. Loki made several pondering-noises, gasps, snorts, groans, before his head dropped in shame. Letting his mouth run away from him wouldn’t get him the result he wanted this time.
His hands moved around dramatically without saying anything, and as they turned past the gate into the Maison de Devereaux, Eros stopped.
“This,” Eros waved his hand in a circular motion in front of Loki, “is exactly what you should have said to begin with. Nothing.”
He began to walk again, and Loki glared after him. “I’m trying to apologize.”
“Missed the mark. Try again.” Eros snapped.
Loki snorted, and caught up to him. “You know-” Loki was about ready to rapid-fire insults, but as he thought them over in his head - that Eros was impossible, cheeky, stand-offish, impertinent, pretentious, smug - he recalled those were all the things he liked about Eros. Because of those attributes they could banter. They challenged him.
“What?” Eros looked at him while pulling the bell chain before the mansion’s door.
Loki pressed his lips together and released an aggravated breath. He snarled and sniffed and said, “Nothing.” His eyes fell to the concrete.
“Good.”
Loki’s eyes darted back up, his countenance sporting a smile that was made of sharp, angry teeth.
The door opened, and both Eros and Loki smiled pleasantly at the doorman.
Loki cleared his throat, “Is the King in?”
“He’s in his study. Follow me, sirs.”
Loki let Eros enter first.
“May I take your coats?”
Eros pulled the flower from his pocket before shrugging off his coat. They were escorted up the grand staircase and through the ornately decorated halls.
Loki looked down at Eros and whispered, “I really didn’t mean to upset you.”
Eros bit down on the insides of his cheeks to keep from spouting off.
“And I think you know that,” Loki continued.
Eros gave him a quick glare. “Can we discuss this later?”
“Here you are, gentlemen. If you could wait here a moment, I’ll let him know of your arrival.”
Eros and Loki gave him a nod, and he knocked on the giant wooden door before stepping into the study beyond.
“Of course,” Loki began, “we can discuss it whenever you want… not that I’m giving you permission, of course.”
Eros hissed through gritted teeth. “Shooting yourself in the foot, Loki.”
“Well, that’s just-”
“If you blame this on your nature, I swear to fucking-”
The doorman stepped back through, and Eros and Loki stood erect.
“He’ll see you now.”
Wordlessly, they stepped into the study where Devereaux stood awaiting their entry.
“Have you found an antidote already?” The King looked pleasantly surprised, but also seemed to be restraining his anxiousness.
Loki took a step forward, “Yes, I did. The Moon Violet of Mount Meru.” The giant gave Eros a taunting eyebrow.
Eros held up the flower, while never breaking eye contact with Loki. “Yes,” said Eros, “clever Loki, found it. Your knight in shining armor…”
The King’s eyes darted back and forth between them, and he took a cautious step forward to take the flower from Eros.
Neither of them broke their piercing glances at the other, and Devereaux stood there holding the flower.
He shrugged. “What do I do with this?”
They finally both turned to him with fake smiles.
“You brew it,” said Eros.
“In tea,” said Loki.
“Or blood,” Eros finished.
The King’s gaze bounced back and forth, “I appreciate your sense of urgency on this matter.”
“It was no trouble,” Loki assured.
“But,” Eros interjected, “may we see her? Josanna? I’d like to help if I may.”
Devereaux pondered this for a moment before saying, “Very well. Let me send for a few people so we may begin.”
Eros and Loki nodded before glancing at each other and looking away.
While the people were gathered, and the violet blood-tea was brewed, Eros and Loki avoided each other expertly, maneuvering around the crowd separately.
It wasn’t until they stood outside the door to an interior room, with several of Devereaux’s sons and daughters, that they found each other standing side by side again.
Devereaux held a skeleton key in his hands. “Now, Loki and Eros have kindly provided their skills to help us with Josanna. We must get her to drink this concoction.”
He held up a thin pitcher of the violet blood and cautioned the crowd. “She will think it is deadman’s blood, and she will resist. She is much stronger than she looks. Do not underestimate her.”
Loki bent down and whispered as Devereaux continued, “He’s saying that because he cares about you. Not because he thinks you’re weak.”
Eros’s neck tensed with rage. His face turned to stone, and suddenly Loki was filled with the overwhelming desire to bite down as hard as he could on his own tongue.
As Loki bit down, Eros heard the crunch, the wince, and could see Loki’s hand jolt towards his mouth. All of the neighboring Vampires noticed the smell of blood and turned to look, but their sense of decorum overpowered their bloodlust. Loki smiled and waved them away as the taste of copper filled his mouth. He dipped an inspecting finger in his mouth to feel the gash. His finger was red when he pulled it out.
He grimaced at the blood, “Ow.” He shot a glare at Eros, who looked very pleased indeed.
Eros kept looking forward, listening and nodding to Devereaux’s instructions, but there was a smirk on his face that looked good-humored, like maybe he was secretly enjoying their back and forth and might be on his way to forgiveness.
Loki pulled out his handkerchief from his slacks to wipe off his finger. He found himself sucking on the tongue-wound, feeling the strange way it stung.
“Ready?” Devereaux asked the crowd, and everyone nodded.
The Vampire King unlocked the door. Loki didn’t think about the blood in his mouth again until he was standing in the darkened room containing a rabid vampire- with the door locked behind them.
“Shit,” he said aloud, as he barely made out the frail girl, cradled in a ball in the corner of the room. Her tangled black hair hung in her face. Her bony arms were raw from where she had been clawing herself with her untrimmed fingernails. Devereaux was cooing to her and showing her the pitcher of violet blood.
Eros perked up at the distinct change in Loki’s tone. There was worry in his voice, “What is it?”
“I’m bleeding.”
Eros’s heart stopped.
He peered back at the girl, who looked up at him, her hair parting to reveal her skull-like countenance and disc-like eyes.
Vampires can move quicker than light, so the instant her gaze veered from him to Loki, he knew he had to be faster.
Eros teleported himself over the two feet it took to stand between her and Loki. In that moment, she was already on top of them, throwing all three of them into the wall with a bang. A picture frame dropped from its nail, and the other vampires in the room were already pulling her off, dragging her thrashing body to the four poster bed in the center of the room.
She growled, and cried, and laughed as they wrestled to hold her down.
Eros still guarded Loki while he tried to settle his rapid heart.
“Can’t get out!” The girl cried as she writhed and scratched against the hands restraining her. “It’s so dark! The Darkness whispers!”
Loki put his hand on Eros’s shoulder. “Alright?”
“Yeah.” Eros swallowed, and stepped away. “Fine.”
She chanted, “Darkness come, and Darkness grow. Darkness come, and take my soul.” Devereaux was shushing her like a mother does a babe and trying to pet the hair from her face.
Loki turned an ear to listen, to take note of her words.
“You must drink,” Devereaux begged.
She jerked and convulsed as if possessed.
“They made him so alone!”
“I know. It’s terrible, but you must drink.”
Her fangs gleamed in the darkness as her jaw dropped down her neck, her mouth a yawning supernatural blackness, and she hissed.
And then her face was normal again, and she said, “There is a desert rose in the devil’s garden.”
Five vampires struggled to hold her in place.
“She never warned him!” She laughed manically.
“Try to hold her still!” Devereaux commanded.
“We’re trying!” One of the vampires yelled.
“One for Death and four for a boy and seven for a secret.” She tossed her head back and laughed into the madness.
Suddenly, she was overtaken with a thirst, a bloodlust, a desire for the pitcher in Victor’s hands. She blinked and calmed. Her episode ceased, and she lay perfectly still aside from her heaving breaths, making eye contact with Devereaux. The other surrounding Vampires cautiously loosened their grip, but still held on. With her dark pitted eyes, she told Victor that she’d drink. She waited until he understood.
Victor Devereaux raised the mixture to her lips.
Josanna drank deeply, blood slipping down her chin.
“No no no!” Loki cried, looking at Eros. “Why did you do that?”
“I’d have done it sooner but-”
“But that was prophetic. Her words were prophetic!” Loki was anguished over the words he didn’t get to hear. He covered his nose and mouth with his hands and kicked himself, not that there was anything he could have done.
Eros didn’t bother to argue.
Josanna slurped and licked up all that was in the pitcher, collapsing into a magickal slumber the moment she swallowed the last drop. The King pulled out a handkerchief and began to dab the mist from her forehead.
The vampires were busily attending the sick girl on the bed, and the room suddenly felt more crowded than it had before.
Eros said to Loki, “Come on. Our work here is done.”
One of Victor’s progenies, Gabriel, showed them out of the room and all the way to the front door, promising to give them a report the moment they had one to give.
“How did that nursery rhyme go?” Loki asked himself the moment the door closed behind him. He had forgotten completely about their argument. “For counting crows and magpies? One for sorrow, two for joy? You know which one I’m talking about?”
Eros recalled, “Three for a girl, and four for a boy. Five for silver. Six for gold and seven for a secret never to be told.”
“What the devil do you suppose she was referring to?”
