Chapter Text
“Yeah, well, ta for letting me know. Yeah, it was good to talk to you. Yeah, give my love to Daley, okay? Ok bye, yeah, bye…”
Pat slammed the receiver back onto the wall. “FUCK!”
There was a tatty old sofa in the corner of the room, and he sank down onto it, dropping his head into his hands. This can’t be happening, he thought. Why? Why is this actually happening?
“Everything alright, mate?”
Pat startled and nearly leapt off the sofa when Humphrey came into the room, frowning concernedly at him.
“Humphrey! Um, what are you doing here?”
“I heard you yell,” Humphrey said. “I can go if you want, just… thought I should see what was up.”
Right. Vampire hearing. Because apparently there was no privacy in his life anymore.
“It’s fine,” Pat said, trying his best to sound more cheerful than he felt. “It’s just…” he slumped. “Carol and Morris are getting married…”
“Yeah, you might have to elaborate a bit more than that,” Humphrey said. He walked over to Pat, somehow managing to step on every one of the creaky floorboards. Pat winced. Being cursed did not sound like fun.
“Carol’s Daley’s mum, my ex-wife,” he said. “And Morris… well, he was my best friend. Until I caught the two of them having an affair.”
“Oh. Sorry, mate,” Humphrey said. “That must really suck.”
“It’s fine,” Pat said. “I’m fine about it, really.” Humphrey did not look convinced. “Genuinely, I’m happy for them. If Carol’s happier with Morris than she was with me, then good for her!”
So he kept telling himself, anyway.
“Sometimes I wish I’d just never found out at all,” he continued. “At least that way I could pretend that we were fine, that she was happy. At least that way I didn’t have to live… no offence, but… here, and only see Daley every other week.”
“I know what you mean,” Humphrey said. “Even though it’s better to know the truth, you still wish you could go back to the way things were before you knew.”
“Oh, are you talking about the Catholic plot?”
Humphrey winced. “Robin told you about that?”
“Kitty did.”
“Oh. Of course she did.”
Pat laughed. “How on earth am I going to go to this wedding?” He sighed. “I know Daley wants me there, but… Jesus Christ.”
Humphrey recoiled from him, hissing and clutching his ears.
“Oh, shit, sorry. I said that, didn’t I?”
“It’s no biggie,” Humphrey said. “And about the wedding… I’m sure you’ll survive. These kinds of things probably seem a lot harder than they actually are. I’d offer to go with you for emotional support, but I’d probably just trip over my own feet and embarrass you. Besides I'm not really that fond of churches.”
Pat smiled. “Ta, Humphrey.”
~~~
Button House’s library was situated on the second floor of the west wing, between Humphrey and Mary’s rooms. It was well-insulated thanks to its wooden shelving and lack of any external walls, meaning that in a house with no central heating it was one of the warmest rooms. Most vampires couldn’t feel the cold, but it still had some minor effects on Fanny. But that wasn’t the main reason the library was one of her favourite places in the house.
Over the years it had become considerably depleted, books being sold off or traded away on a whim and sometimes used as firewood as a result of Robin’s lack of interest in reading. And so around twenty years ago, having read most of the books that remained at least twice, Fanny had dedicated herself to restoring the library to its former glory.
She would often rope the others into helping her out as she worked, only to quickly tire of their incompetence and unwillingness and shoe them away. The Captain was the only person who helped her out by choice. It was remarkable to watch her work, he always thought. She was so smart, and there was a confidence that came out in her when she was in her element that was incredible to see. And following her orders gave him a way of feeling helpful that he hadn’t had in a long time.
“What have you been up to lately, Fanny?” He asked her one night as they were sorting through a stack of books she’d recently acquired from an antique shop in town.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she said. “Kitty’s taken to reading those awful romance novels again. I’ve told her, I’ve said exactly what I think of all that, but she doesn’t listen. You know, I blame Robin for letting her turn her brain to mush like this for the past 200 years.”
“Quite,” the Captain agreed.
“And what about you, Captain? I hear you’ve been spending a lot of time with that human Robin insists on keeping around.”
“Hardly a lot,” the Captain protested. “He’s sleeping most of the time we’re awake, and at work most of the day. We’ve just taken to going on runs together, that’s all.”
Fanny looked at him with the expression of one explaining something difficult to a small child. “Whatever you do, Captain, don’t get attached to him. It’ll just be like Annie all over again, and you’ll end up getting upset. It’s best to steer clear, if you ask me.”
“Perhaps,” the Captain said, pretending to peer closely at the spine of a book of poetry from 1870 so he didn’t have to look at her. One didn’t simply tell Fanny that she was wrong, not if one hoped to stay on her good side.
Is she wrong, though? he asked himself. Try as he might, he could not answer that question. It was true—Pat was only human. Maybe it was asking for disaster getting close to him. He had friends enough here, surely. And unlike Pat, they would stay forever.
“Right, well, that’s that then,” Fanny said. “Give that here.”
He passed the book he was holding over. She examined the spine for a few seconds, then flicked through the first pages. “Put that on the third shelf over there, next to the Dickens collection.”
“Fanny yes Fanny!” The Captain saluted her and shot to his feet, his knees protesting loudly as he did so.
~~~
“Hey, Captain! Just the guy I wanted to see!” Pat said with a cheesy grin as the Captain entered the kitchen. He was in his pyjamas, leaning against the counter and drinking a cup of coffee. What with it being a little past 1am, the Captain was surprised to find him awake.
“Patrick! Is there… is everything alright?”
“I couldn’t sleep, I think there’s a rat in my wall or something, but that’s not important! I have a question for you!”
“Oh?”
“It’s sports week tomorrow at the Scouts. We’ll be doing some archery, some boxing, some cricket, some other stuff. Normally I do all the instructions myself, but since you told me you used to play cricket, I wondered if you’d fancy coming up with me and showing the boys how it’s done. It doesn’t start till 7, so you’ll be fine with the, uh… sunlight… thing.”
“Oh, well, um… I’d be honoured,” the Captain said, straightening his shoulders and placing his hands behind his back. “Although I should warn you, I’m a fair bit out of practice.”
“You’ll be fine,” Pat said. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“I suppose you’re right,” he said. “It’ll be good to stretch the old sporting muscles again, see if I’ve still got it in me.”
“Great. Well, I’ll let you where to go and you can just meet us there I guess. In the meantime, maybe… plan what you’re going to say to the boys?” Pat turned as if to head out, but lingered in the doorway.
“Is there something else you wanted?” the Captain asked.
“Who’s Annie?” Pat said suddenly, without warning. “It’s just I’ve heard some of the others mentioning that name a few times, so I wondered…”
“Oh. Right, of course.” The Captain cleared his throat. “Annie was a witch who used to live in the nearby village. I never met her myself, but I’ve heard she was… very good friends with Mary, and used to frequent the house in the late 1600s. You know how witches aren’t naturally immortal?”
Pat nodded.
“There are many witches who find ways to gain immortality, whether deliberately or… accidentally, in Mary’s case. But there are also many who choose not to. Annie was one of those. She died of old age sometime after the turn of the 18th century.”
“Oh,” Pat said. “Poor Mary. I’ve always thought it must be awful to live forever, only to see all your loved ones grow old and die.” And suddenly the Captain felt an odd sensation welling up in his chest—not over a woman he never met who died hundreds of years before he was born, but at the thought that in a mere sixty or so years that could be him, standing over Pat’s grave and wishing they’d had more time.
“Yes,” he said faintly. “It must be.”
“Well, I think I’m gonna go try and get some sleep,” Pat said, gesturing towards the door. “Um. See you tomorrow night, I guess.” And then he was gone, leaving the room feeling oddly empty.
The Captain ran a hand through his hair. Fanny was right, he thought. I’ve got to stop this.
~~~
“Oh, I don’t think I can do this. Nope, this was a bad idea. I’m going home.” Just in case Pat wasn’t convinced, the Captain illustrated his point by turning around and marching towards the doors.
“Come on, Cap! You’ll do great, I know you will!” Pat ran after him, grabbing him by the arm. “Just pretend they’re soldiers and you’re giving them a debrief or something. Although… try to keep it fun. And be friendly. And… yeah, I see your point…”
“You’ll be fine without me,” the Captain said. “You’ve got all this stuff set up…” he gestured through the window at the gym floor. “I’ll probably just fly home and see you later.”
“Nonsense, man!” Pat said. “A true army man never turns his back on a challenge! What would Lord Bartholomew Raisiny-Jones say?”
“Lord Brigadier Sir Anthony Bartholomew Raisinby Jones?” The Captain said effortlessly. “Hm. I suppose you may have a point…”
“Good, cause we really have to get started, the boys are getting kinda restless out there, and I don’t want to run out of time for everything we’ve got planned…”
“Patrick! What are you doing? Patrick, don’t leave me here!” the Captain protested as Pat headed towards the doors to the gym.
“Sorry, Cap. Just hold fire out here for half an hour, and I’ll let you know when to come out.” He gave him a quick double thumbs up. “You’ve got this!”
Pat entered the gym and made his way to the middle of the floor, near the archery stand. He called the boys to attention, and they walked over and made a semicircle in front of him.
“Evening, patrol, and welcome to the Guildford Leisure Centre!” he said.
“Evening, skipper,” they chorused.
“Now, I have lots of very exciting activities set up for you to try tonight, including a visit from a very good friend of mine who’ll be teaching you how to play cricket! He’s an actual army Captain, okay, so I don’t want to be hearing any Jesus-Christs or Oh-My-Gods when he’s talking to you. Is that clear?”
There were a few sighs from the group, but an all-round vague murmur of assent.
“Right, that aside, it’s time to get started with the first activity of the night. Which is… archery! You’ll all get a chance to shoot at the range, but firstly, I just need to run through some quick dos and don’ts.” He picked up the bow and quiver and passed them out. “Here, you take these. Pass them along, get used to the feel of the bow.” The boys took them eagerly and immediately began testing out the bowstring. Pat returned to stand in front of them.
“Now it may surprise you to know that most accidents actually happen after the arrows have hit the target,” he said. “Boys run down the range, and can easily trip up. So, safety rule number one is, no…”
~~~
It happened so quickly that the Captain almost couldn’t believe it had actually happened at all. One minute the boys had just been playing with the bow as Pat talked about the rules. The next his voice cut off as the arrow embedded itself in his neck. There was almost something comedic about the whole thing, or so it seemed to him in the moment as his brain struggled to process what he was seeing.
Then Pat made a choking, retching motion and reached up to claw at his neck, and the Captain’s stomach twisted in horror, the gasp of surprise dying on his lips.
He supposed something of his military training must have remained after all, despite the years that had passed since he was last in active service. Or maybe it was the killer instinct in his blood that spurred him to action now. All he knew was that seconds later, he was rushing through the doors onto the gym floor, and sprinting towards Pat.
The younger man was clearly trying not to panic, shouting vague and contradictory instructions at the kids, all while walking in circles and groping blindly at his neck. Before long some of the boys would start to realise the severity of the situation, and then there’d be no keeping them out of the way in order to help Pat. With a wave of his hand, the Captain hypnotised them all. Then he turned his attention to the man before him.
“Captain…” Pat said, grabbing him by the arm with surprising strength. “You have to get the kids out of here. Don’t let them see me like this.”
“No, I need to get you some help,” the Captain said. “Where’s the nearest hospital? If I pick you up and run I can get you there quicker than waiting for an ambulance. Patrick—Patrick, stay focused—”
“It’s cold, isn’t it?” Pat said, and dread pooled in the Captain’s stomach. This was bad news, definitely. He took Pat by the shoulders and shook him, but he was unresponsive. Almost imperceptibly, the younger man’s eyes clouded over, and the Captain’s heart fell. There’d be no getting Patrick to the hospital, even if he ran as fast as his vampiric powers would let him. It was already too late. Pat was dying, and there was nothing the Captain could do.
Unless…
The Captain froze. He had never turned another person into a vampire before. It was too big an undertaking, too meaningful—especially to him—even if Robin hadn’t been so adamantly against it in all cases other than in emergencies. But this was one of those now, and as much as the Captain racked his brains, he couldn’t think of a single better solution.
Steeling himself, he guided Pat into a sitting position, then carefully gripped the arrow with both hands. “I’m afraid this might hurt quite a lot,” he told the unresponsive man. “I’ll try to be as quick as I can.”
It took considerable care to get the arrow out without snapping it or damaging Pat’s neck any further, but he managed it. As soon as it was out blood began to gush from the wound, and as the smell of it filled his nose hunger washed over him and his self-control very nearly slipped. Tossing the arrow aside, he sunk his fangs into Pat’s neck and drank until he couldn’t stomach any more. Then he unbuttoned the sleeve of his shirt and pushed it up to his elbow, tore open his own flesh and held it so the blood could drip into Pat’s mouth.
That done, the frenzy left him and his senses returned. He was a mess, blood coating his hands and staining his sweater. Luckily the kids were all still under the effects of hypnosis, standing stock still and looking blankly ahead. With another wave of his hand, the Captain filled their heads with the memory of a fun yet uneventful evening, and commanded them not to wake up until the hour ended. Then he hefted Pat’s now lifeless body into his arms and slowly got to his feet.
~~~
It was Humphrey who opened the door at the Captain’s knock. He looked confusedly from the Captain’s face to the body in his arms, but made no comment.
“Get Robin,” the Captain ordered. “And a shovel. Patrick needs help.”
“Oh, Captain,” Humphrey said. “What the hell have you done?”