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The mansion’s silhouette rose sharp and dark against the night sky, the only bright parts a few lit windows on the lowest level and the huge clock face that took up the entirety of the tallest tower. It was, or so Danny had heard, the oldest building in Amity Park, and possibly the oldest building in the state. Considering who owned the building, it probably was.
Danny sighed and ran his hand through his hair, pulling on knots. Flying rather ruined any attempts at neatness, but cars were… difficult. He couldn’t drive, anyway.
He didn’t want to do this.
But he’d made his promises. He couldn’t afford to alienate this ally. Besides, he’d done the math. Multiple times.
He walked up the drive, reviewing his calculations, like he always did, when he had to do this. Once, twice, three times, always getting the same result, because math was perfect. True, the real world wasn’t, and the numbers he was working with weren’t certain, but he always erred on the side of caution, assuming the blood potency was much higher than anything he’d ever been able to directly measure.
As usual, he finished his third set of calculations at the same time he reached the gate. It was tall, wrought iron, decorated with spikes and gothic flairs. Danny carefully counted first the spikes, then the bars, then the links on the chain holding the halves of the gate together, and then he had to admit that while some of that was compulsion, some of that was stalling. He counted the spikes again, anyway. There were twenty six. Just like the last time.
Nothing for it, then. He dissolved into vapor and flowed through the bars of the gate, reforming on the other side. He combed back his hair again, and adjusted his long black coat. Over the last five years, he’d become more used to turning into fog, but it was still unsettling. Especially when he was already on edge.
He continued up the hill. This part of the drive was paved with cobblestones, and Danny kept his head down, counting the ones he stepped on. He’d counted them before, knew exactly how many there were, how long it would take for him to get to the stairs, and from there, how many stairs it would take for him to get to the door. And then, he was there.
All of this was routine by now, including the way he went back over his numbers in his head. They were all as expected, but they seemed like they went by far too quickly.
He went back over his blood potency calculations. He should be safe. He should be fine. He’d made the calculations before he’d even agreed to this.
The watch on his wrist chimed, reminding him that he did, in fact, have an appointment. He rang the doorbell.
Almost immediately, the door opened, revealing a small, clean-shaven man with white hair, dark skin, and a long jagged scar intersecting his left eye. The man was dressed in blatantly anachronistic purple robes. He smiled, revealing a gap between his front two teeth and gleaming, sharp, white canines.
“Daniel,” he said, warmly. “Welcome.”
“Lord Worth,” Danny said, bowing. It wasn’t his real name, and neither was Charles, or Clark, or whatever he had on his mail, but it was the name the local coven knew him by.
“Come, now, Daniel, I have told you before, you may call me Clockwork.”
Lord Worth - Clockwork - had told him that before. Every time they’d met, in fact. But once bitten, twice shy, and Danny had been bitten by vampire etiquette before. Literally.
But as long as Clockwork had discarded formality… He grinned. “I have to find some way to get back at you.”
“I suppose I do tease you rather horribly,” agreed Clockwork. “But don’t stand out there. It looks like it’s about to rain. Come in, come in.”
Danny nodded. He was glad he wasn’t from a bloodline that had an issue with running water. Or water in general. That sounded hellish. He stepped across the threshold, and saw movement from the corner of his eye. Not expecting any motion from that direction, he turned to look at it, and froze.
Bright, almost unnatural, blue eyes met his own, pupils flashing red in the half-light of Clockwork’s vestibule. They were set in a smooth, pale face, with fine, fair skin that looked like it had never seen the sun. A fringe of silky, if disheveled, black hair framed it from the top, and an equally black turtleneck framed it from below. It was a young face. If Danny didn’t know better, he would have said it was a young face, a child’s face.
It was his face. He was looking at a mirror. At his reflection. It was a reflection. Just a reflection. A reflection. There was no real reason to be afraid. His fear was irrational.
That didn’t stop him from being afraid. No one told you beforehand, but being a vampire meant having absurd psychological problems that couldn’t be fixed because they were supernatural.
A curtain fell over the mirror, and Danny took a deep breath, trying to calm a heartbeat that was, for him, racing, although a human would have likely still found it slow.
“My apologies,” said Clockwork. “I forgot about that one. All the others are, of course, covered.”
It was a power play. Or ‘teasing,’ as Clockwork would put it. Typical for vampire social interactions. Danny nodded, tightly. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been. Clockwork could have pretended to ‘forget’ about Danny’s aversion to mirrors, and just waited, watching, until Danny was able to make himself move.
Being paralyzed by your reflection wasn’t a normal vampire weakness, after all. Danny wasn’t a normal vampire. Although, he’d argue that there was no such thing as a normal vampire.
Danny had the great privilege and terrible luck of being a firstborn vampire. A vampire created strictly by magic, rather than by another vampire. He was the result of celestial coincidence and his parents’ shoddy ritual hygiene. When he’d been made, there had been no other vampires of his bloodline, which meant there had been no other vampires with the same set of powers and weaknesses.
In addition to the obvious drawbacks of not having a mentor or knowing what he could or could not do, this meant that he was of great interest to certain other vampires, including the council, Clockwork, and (ugh) Vlad. He tried not to dwell on it too much, these days, and when he was dwelling on it, reminded himself how fortunate he was that the sun didn't set him on fire, because he hadn’t realized he'd become a vampire until three days later when his fangs were in Dash's throat.
Anyway.
He looked around the vestibule as he took off his shoes, counting Clockwork's candlesticks and keeping an eye out for polished silver. He didn’t think Clockwork would ‘forget’ another mirror, but there was always the chance that he'd genuinely forgotten some other reflective object, especially since they didn't always freeze Danny in his tracks. If the reflection was warped or off-color enough, it didn't cause the same terror-reaction… although it still generally wasn't pleasant.
He didn't find any. Clockwork's candlesticks, all six of them in the room, were brass. The seven clocks, similarly, were safe.
What he did find, though, were red, white, and black party balloons, strung up around the door to the rest of the house, along with glittery cardboard letters, the same type that was used for things like birthday parties or baby showers.
The letters read ‘HAPPY ENTHRALLMENT NIGHT, DANIEL!’
Danny resisted the urge to sigh (but not the urge to count the balloons - twenty four). Clockwork was always doing things like this, and, to be honest, part of him thought it was hilarious. A significantly more rational (but, unfortunately, no larger) part of him found it terrifying. Both parts, however, did appreciate that Clockwork was up-front about his intentions, unlike Vlad, who talked about how they should present a united front as new firstborns, how he'd treat Danny as a son, give him access to the vampire lore he'd accumulated over the last quarter century, but transparently wanted a slave.
“I thought I would go all out for your big night,” said Clockwork cheerfully. “It is not every night that a young man experiences his first blood bond, after all. Of course, we will have to do an official celebration, after the fact, to announce the happy occasion to the whole coven, but this is for us.”
Danny schooled his expression into something appropriately flat and looked up at Clockwork. He was already missing the lifts in his shoes. “You know this is going to turn out just like all the other times.”
“Perhaps,” said Clockwork. His eyes glittered in a way that a human's never would, a subtle show of power. “But you know that this is more of a gamble than you would like, and the house always wins eventually.”
“On statistically relevant scales, yes,” said Danny, shrugging out of his coat and hanging it on the nearby rack, “but not always with individuals.” Clockwork had visions of possible futures. That didn't mean the futures he saw always happened, it only meant that they could.
“As you say,” said Clockwork. “But perhaps the thirteenth time will be the charm, hm?”
He opened the door and the pair of them padded silently through a dimly lit receiving room festooned with more balloons, party streamers, and various pictures of Danny. There were twelve of them, all from nights like this, all with overexposed, reflective eyes.
“Here,” said Clockwork, indicating a balloon arch, “I must have a memento, if this night is to be the one.”
“Alright,” said Danny, who had already slightly angled himself towards it, the better to count the balloons. Humoring Clockwork like this was annoying, but fine. He stood under the balloon arch and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Lovely,” said Clockwork. He picked an antique camera up from a nearby table, raised it, and the flash blinded Danny.
Danny hissed, rubbing his eyes, and started counting. His vision cleared before he reached the number he’d gotten to last time, which was, presumably, an improvement. “What are you powering that with? The sun?”
“There has been a remarkable improvement in solar energy technologies lately, wouldn’t you say?” asked Clockwork, putting the camera, which Danny doubted had anything to do with solar energy, to the side.
“Don’t say that too loud, the Vigil might buy more coal lobbyists.” When Sam had found out about that tidbit of vampire society, she’d been… less than pleased. And she’d talked Danny’s ear off about it for hours and hours. He hadn’t been too happy about it, either.
Clockwork smiled, then beckoned Danny forward, and opened the next door, releasing a curl of warm, richly-scented air. Beyond the door was Clockwork’s luxuriously decorated formal dining room. The long table was set for two, with numerous pedestal dishes arranged along the length of the table, their contents hidden by matte-finished cloches. Above the table there was a gleaming glass chandelier, full of lit candles.
Next to the far seat, the one that Clockwork was now making his way to, there were two wine glasses, a wine bottle resting in a crystal bowl full of ice, and, on a small, but somehow eye-catching plate, a long silver needle. Behind the chair loomed a massive and intimidating grandfather clock.
Danny sat in the near chair, picking up the napkin next to his plate and nervously twisting it between his fingers. He didn’t touch the utensils. Although he wasn’t one of the unfortunate vampires who couldn’t manage solid food, he had no intention of eating anything here, no matter how good it smelled. It was just too much of a risk. There was no telling what Clockwork might have put into the food.
The ice in the glass bowl jingled as Clockwork pulled out the wine bottle. With a delicate flourish, he produced a corkscrew and used it to open the wine bottle. Then, humming slightly, he filled the two wine glasses. He put one to the side, in front of his plate, the other he kept in front of him as he put the wine bottle back into the ice. Then, he picked up the long needle and pressed the point into his ring finger.
Blood welled up, slower than it would for a human, but just as bright and red. He held the tiny wound over the second wine glass and let three drops of blood fall into the already sanguine liquid. That done, he half-wrapped his finger in a napkin.
Danny inhaled, the scent of blood making his mouth water just as much as, if not more than, the human food on table. Clockwork met his eye, and his smile twitched, broadening.
“Hopefully, it will be to your taste,” said Clockwork.
“Even if your humor isn’t,” agreed Danny with a nod.
Clockwork’s smile expanded just that little bit more, and with a wave of his hand, he sent the wine glass - and the blood within it - floating over to Danny. He didn’t use that power often, but when he did, it was to dramatic effect.
Danny took the glass from the air, and held it up, saluting Clockwork in a slightly sardonic motion.
It was commonly held that drinking a vampire’s blood three times would turn you into their thrall. That was almost true. Drinking a vampire’s blood three times in quick succession certainly would enthrall a person, but if one was careful and spread out their tastes of blood sufficiently, they could avoid being enthralled indefinitely. This would be the thirteenth time Danny had drunk Clockwork’s blood, the thirteenth time they’d played this little game, and he hadn’t been enthralled yet.
It still made him nervous.
He swirled the blood and wine in his glass. Thirteen times… Thirteen times over the past five years, he had asked Clockwork for his help and gotten it. Each time, this was the only price.
The grandfather clock tolled midnight and Danny tossed back the blood-infused wine. When it hit his tongue, he could suppress neither the shudder of pleasure that ran through his body, nor the very audible moan, both of which continued until he drained the glass dry.
It was a very rare thing that Danny got such fresh blood. Most of the time, he subsisted on animal blood and expired donated blood that would otherwise be thrown out, courtesy of Sam’s part-time job at a blood donation center. Very rarely, he’d take a little from his friends. Rarely. Taking blood from a person too often was dangerous.
The power in Clockwork’s blood only added to the sensation.
He took a moment to compose himself, licking his lips. The real danger wasn’t the risk of enthrallment, it was that he always felt so good afterwards, and the stupid, vampiric part of him always clamoured for more.
Well, more would definitely get him enthralled, so he wasn’t going to get that. Instead, he was going to stand up, give Clockwork his condolences regarding this latest loss, go home, where he had a nice jar of pig’s blood, fresh from the butcher’s that evening, in his fridge, and ignore the lapping warmth radiating from his stomach.
He got to the ‘stand up’ part, his hand on the back of the chair, when Clockwork said, “Won’t you stay and enjoy my hospitality a little longer?”
Normally, Danny would have brushed this off with a quip about Clockwork’s hospitality being dangerous for him, which was true enough, but this time, Clockwork sounded genuinely regretful. Plaintive. Danny paused.
“There is no need to run off so soon,” continued Clockwork. “Why, you haven’t even seen the food yet.”
Danny sighed, but lowered himself back into his seat. “You know why I won’t eat with you.” It would be far too easy for Clockwork to contaminate food with blood.
“It’s the principle of the thing,” said Clockwork. “Besides, you might change your mind once you see what I have to offer.”
Danny hummed doubtfully. Clockwork smiled and flicked his fingers, and the cloches rose from the platters, revealing heaped mashed potatoes, some kind of leafy greens, fresh bread, a handful of other side dishes Danny couldn’t immediately identify, a roast so rare it was almost bloody, and a tall cake decorated with red icing roses.
More teasing. The roast was an obvious message, considering Danny’s normal diet, and the roses were, if anything, more blatant. Some vampires were repelled by garlic. Danny wasn’t. But roses could put him to sleep. Real ones, that was.
“Are you trying to lull me into a false sense of security?” asked Danny, raising an eyebrow.
“Oh, there is no need for that,” said Clockwork.
The various foods started serving themselves onto Danny and Clockwork’s plates. Danny shifted in his seat. Clockwork’s dexterity with his telekinesis was… somewhat unnerving. From what Danny knew, few enough bloodlines had that power, and even fewer could do things like this with it. But Clockwork was old. Ancient even by vampire standards.
“I have been wanting to talk to you,” said Clockwork, as the heavily laden plates settled in front of them.
“About what?” asked Danny. He picked up the fork next to his plate, just to have something to do with his hands.
“About my historical research,” said Clockwork. “I have been looking into firstborn more since I first realized you would eventually be my thrall, you see.”
“Oh,” said Danny. He was interested, of course. It was hard to find information about firstborn vampires and Clockwork had far more resources than he did, but even though he’d avoided it tonight, he didn’t want to talk about being enthralled.
“There is debate over what an enthralled firstborn would be like, what that particular variety of bloodbond would be like,” said Clockwork, cutting into his meat. “It is quite rare that firstborns are enthralled, and all evidence about behavior is anecdotal. Even I have only seen one example of such a thing, and those involved were not interested in revealing their secrets to me.”
“Shocking,” said Danny. “Almost as if they knew you wanted to publish a book.”
“Quite,” said Clockwork. “Although, in that age, the word ‘publish’ does not entirely fit. Regardless, there are a few schools of thought. The first is that the bloodbond would behave as it would for any other enthralled vampire.”
“That would make sense,” said Danny. Firstborn vampires were special in a number of ways, but in the end, they were still only vampires.
“It would,” agreed Clockwork, “but the other arguments are also compelling. A firstborn vampire has no other bloodbonds, nor even the echoes of bloodbonds. Nothing that would complicate their loyalties, no experience in dealing with bloodbonds in general. So, some propose that enthralling a firstborn would be much like enthralling a human.”
Danny had met a number of enthralled humans. It was easy to enthrall humans. Their blood held power, but not like a vampire’s. There was nothing in their veins that helped them resist. As for what they were like, they ran in a spectrum from glassy-eyed mannequins to, on a surface level, completely normal… Apart from a fanatical devotion to their master.
He dropped his eyes to his plate, and, for lack of anything better to do, began to poke at the food with his fork.
“But some feel as if such a thing is much too far below a vampire’s dignity, and that, besides, a firstborn’s blood potency would combat some of the possible… problems faced by human thralls.” He waved a hand as Danny speared a green bean and picked it up. “Some think that the bond would be more like a fledgling bond. There is merit in the idea. It would be a bond between vampires, and the first bond for the enthralled.”
Danny didn’t smell any blood in the food… But it could have been covered by the smell of meat. Danny wasn't experienced enough to tell. He put his fork down, then looked back up.
This was a mistake. Clockwork eyes were fixed on him, glinting red and predatory in the candlelight. Predatory, or merely hungry.
“Did you know,” said Clockwork, accent and lisp more pronounced than usual, conversational tone completely at odds with the intensity of his stare. “Did you know, Daniel, that I never wanted a fledgeling until I met you?”
“Can’t imagine why. I'd think I'd be more of a cautionary tale than anything. A reason not to want fledglings.”
Clockwork huffed, the sound just shy of a laugh, and looked back down at his dinner. Danny relaxed, too.
“Yes, yes,” said Clockwork, “and you a vampire already. To add to the futility, I might not have even given you a second glance if you were not.”
“I don't think anyone would have,” said Danny. Except, maybe, Vlad, and that would've been for one of his labyrinthine revenge plots, not because he actually cared.
“I would not be so certain. But, happily, you are a vampire regardless, which means we can play these games for centuries yet. I will be patient, and I will enjoy it.”
Oddly enough, that half convinced Danny the food was safe, that Clockwork would play their game fairly. Half convinced. He folded his hands in his lap. If he had any luck at all, he'd be strong enough and well-established enough to solve his problems without Clockwork's help long before anything like a century had passed.
Although his apparent age would always be a problem…
“The difference is more than academic,” continued Clockwork. “Between vampires, one must make their commands explicit- get your mind out of the gutter, Daniel.”
Danny jumped. “Lucky guess.” He picked up his fork to hide his embarrassment, and almost did something very stupid. He put the fork back down.
“Perhaps,” said Clockwork, mysteriously. Bastard. “Regardless, between vampires, enthrallment has little in the way of an emotional dimension. For humans, it is nearly the opposite. The enthrallment becomes encompassing, shall we say. A fledgeling bond, however, is subtler, almost subconscious. As a matter of fact, it is not uncommon for fledglings to not realize the bond exists until it is broken.”
Clockwork's knife clinked on his plate as he cut another piece of meat.
“My personal theory is that the result depends on the individuals involved. It is not, perhaps, a particularly useful theory, as far as understanding history goes - the lack of consistency, you see - but it would explain several seemingly conflicting accounts.”
“And you're trying to test that?” asked Danny, toying with his fork again.
“I would need a much larger sample size than one for that,” said Clockwork. “I will leave such things up to more dedicated scientists. Outside of the context of my work on a complete history of our kind, I am much more interested in how you will experience enthrallment. What do you think, Daniel?”
“I, um,” said Danny. He didn’t have a lot of direct experience with bloodbonds, and his research into them had mostly focused on avoiding them. He didn't even have a bond with Danielle, and Vlad had turned her with Danny's blood. “It'd make the most sense to work normally, wouldn’t it? The way it does between any other vampires.”
“Ah, so, you believe that the bond would be noticeable? Immediately apparent to the enthralled?”
“Yeah,” said Danny.
“Is it?”
Danny frowned. Had he somehow missed part of the conversation? “Is what it?”
“Ah,” said Clockwork, putting his fork and knife down on his newly empty plate. He folded his hands beneath his chin. “That does seem to answer the question.”
Danny stood up, then crossed the distance between his seat and Clockwork’s in five quick steps. One, two, three, four, five. Five steps.
Smiling, Clockwork leaned back in his chair and pushed it slightly away from the table. Danny knelt, sitting on his heels so that his chin was level with Clockwork’s lap. Clockwork put his hand on Danny’s head, gently stroking his temple with his thumb.
“How…?” He’d been so sure his math had been right. He’d checked. He had a safety margin!
“If it helps, it was not your fault. I am sure your math was good. But there are factors that your math could not account for, because you did not know they existed. That you never learned, because you have no one to teach you.” He ruffled Danny’s hair, then removed his hand, laying it wrist up on his thigh. “Repetition. Even beyond the accumulation of foreign blood, ritual has its own power. We are supernatural creatures, Daniel. The number thirteen is significant.”
Numbly, Danny lowered his face to Clockwork’s wrist. He kissed it, fangs brushing against Clockwork’s slow, steady pulse. It beat with the same rhythm as the warmth flooding Danny’s body. He was trembling.
His fangs pierced Clockwork’s skin and all the room in his mind was taken up by the bright, vital taste of vampire blood.