The sound leads me upstairs, to a hallway I haven't explored yet. One of the doors is slightly ajar, and I can hear... I’m not sure.
God, what is that sound?
It's between a growl and a scream, something feral and agonized. I push the door open carefully.
The room is bare. No furniture except a narrow bed. No decorations. A single window showing the dark forest beyond. A room for existing and nothing else.
Cadeon is on the bed, but he's not resting. He's in the grip of something, not sleep, but maybe whatever passes for sleep in vampires. His face is contorted in a way that's almost unrecognizable, all the careful control stripped away, leaving only raw terror and rage.
"No," he's saying, over and over. "No, please, I can't..."
I've never heard a vampire beg before. Not that I’ve met many over the years. They tend to keep to themselves.
"Cadeon." I keep my voice low, non-threatening. Don't approach. Don't touch. He's dangerous like this, I can feel it. "Cadeon, you're here. You're at the cottage. You're safe."
He doesn't hear me. His hands claw at the bed, and I realize with horror that he's reliving something, trapped in some memory he can't escape.
"Stand down," I try, because maybe he needs a command. "You're released from duty. Stand down."
Nothing. The thrashing gets worse.
I do the only thing I can think of. I sit on the floor a few feet from the bed and start talking.
"It's okay. You're at the cottage. Ashwood Cottage. It's snowing outside. I made soup for dinner: not my best work, honestly. I'm not used to the stove yet. Tomorrow I'm going to the village to meet the other mages. There's a healer named Thea, she seems nice. She has a familiar who's a wolf shifter.Can you imagine? A wolf in your living room. I bet the furniture situation is complicated."
I'm babbling, but it doesn't matter. My voice seems to anchor him somehow.
"The greenhouse needs work. Plants everywhere are half-dead, which is just sad. But I can fix them. I'm good at that. Growing things. Healing things." I wrap my arms around my knees. "I'm not good at commanding people. I don't know how to give orders. Grandmother's journal says the bond needs constant reinforcement, but I don't even know what that means."
His breathing is starting to slow.
"I read about you today. About what she made you do. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." My voice cracks. "I don't know how to fix this. I don't know how to help you. But I'm going to try, okay? I promise I'm going to try."
He goes still.
Then, slowly, his eyes open.
For a moment, he just stares at the ceiling, breathing hard. Then his gaze slides to me, sitting on the floor like an idiot.
"You're here." His voice is hoarse, raw.
"Yeah."
"How long?"
"I'm not sure. A while."
He closes his eyes, and the shame on his face is devastating. "You shouldn't have seen that."
"Probably not," I agree. "But I did. So." I stand, brushing off my pants. "I'm going to get you some tea. Do you drink tea?"
"I don't... I don't need..."
"I didn't ask if you need it. I asked if you drink it."
Long pause. "...Sometimes."
"Good. Wait here."
