Chapter Twenty-Eight | Chilling Tidings

The skeletal remains of the deciduous trees stretched into the overcast sky, signalling that Fall was underway. All but the evergreens had been stripped of their leaves; their brown and orange corpses littered the wood's floor and were blown by the wind over the courtyards to congregate in all the damp corners. Several days of heavy rain had held Karou captive in the unit, as she would have ended up soaked to the bone if she'd dared venture out to the tavern where she often met her friends.

It was late October, and Warren was in Russia; he'd used the plane ticket he'd been gifted for his birthday. Karou couldn't pronounce the name of the place Warren had gone. All she could glean from the snippets of phone conversations she'd overheard between him and Magnus was that it was the seat of the Vampiric Government, a palace and estate somewhere in the Ural mountains.

He'd left just over a week ago, and she hadn't heard from him since. Things between them had reverted to what Karou now considered normal. Warren had shut her out once more, proving that all her efforts to be his 'friend' had been in vain. She never mentioned the few days in September when it felt like they'd turned a corner, but she had wasted plenty of dreams reliving those moments. The closeness, the kisses, the tender touches, and the one time he'd set his fangs on her. All hope that anything like that would recur had vanished. Warren seemed to have rekindled his peculiar relationship with Ellis and had called her often before his trip. Karou didn't doubt that he would spend most of his nights in her bed during his stay. Ellis’s jealousy must have been dispelled by now, but Karou loathed the feeling that perhaps she had now become the harbourer of that ugly, green emotion. The Vampiress held an imaginary victory over her—a battle had been fought for which Karou hadn't even been drafted. The reality of the situation was worse, though; Karou's curiosity had made a fool of her because she had allowed herself to be used by Warren, and now she was left feeling worthless. She was undoubtedly a meaningless fling to him, and it hurt that her first intimate experiences had been insignificant to the other party involved. Somehow, she still couldn't bring herself to hate him; after all, he was somewhat of a saviour.

In his absence, she sprawled across the unit's queen-sized bed each night, attempting to appreciate the space it provided. However, all it truly did was amplify her loneliness. How could one miss someone who seemed indifferent? She pondered this but then spent hours debating with herself about whether he genuinely cared. Many of his actions contradicted his words, yet the consistent cold shoulders suggested he merely tolerated her despite his assurances from September. That was when the nagging thought emerged: had Warren withdrawn because she had pushed him away? Ever since she'd rejected him on his birthday, he had retreated into himself, leaving her feeling guilty and frustrated. If only she had surrendered to his desires, perhaps she wouldn’t be in such a solitary state now. She felt as though she had cut off her nose to spite her face… and was resentful.

That morning, she lay in until gone ten. Having brought a good book to bed with her, the first thing she did upon waking was get right back to where she'd left off. It was getting to the exciting part; she could feel it. With the blinds up to let the grey autumnal daylight flood in, she sat with all the pillows piled behind her as she turned page after page, devouring the novel with eager eyes.

When he walked in, the first thing that hit him was the heat! It was uncomfortable to walk into, having come from the outside, where the wind had chilled his face. Setting down his luggage and pulling off his boots, he turned down the thermostat and ventured further indoors. He was back a few days early; he'd rearranged his work schedule mid-trip. He was relieved the unit wasn't too much of a mess, considering Karou had been left to her own devices. There was no sign of Karou in the lounge or the kitchen, and when he peered into her room and the bathroom, he found she wasn't there either—finding her where she was had never crossed his mind. Who had been more surprised neither of them could know, Karou screamed as Warren burst into the room without announcing himself. Instantly, she dropped her book and yanked the sheets up to her chin. Before she could cover herself, he'd gotten an eyeful of what little she was wearing—he hadn't expected her to be sitting in his bed so scantily clad. Putting two and two together, he came out with five and turned to peer around the room and hallway. "Is there a man in here? Am I interrupting something?" his tone sounded simultaneously bewildered and accusatory. The thought of her keeping company while he was away had been one of the reasons for his unrest.

"How is that the first thing you say to me when you get back?!" Karou huffed; her expression was incredulous.

"Then why are you in bed in only your underwear?"

"Because it's hot?! I mean… It was cold, so I turned the heat up, but then I got hot in my sleep..."

"And you didn't get up to turn the heat down?"

"No. It was really late, and then this morning, I got hooked on this book and haven't actually gotten up yet."

"So... to be clear, there isn't a man here?"

"Oh my God, Warren! No! You should know better than to ask me that. My sex life isn't as interesting as yours," Karou sassed. The bedroom was tidy save for the pile of 'worn once' clothes she'd abandoned on Warren's piano stool. Now, while awkwardly keeping the sheet around her with one hand, she gathered as many of her clothes from it as she could; apparently, she was vacating his room and giving it back to him. Warren moved aside to let her leave and watched as she dumped her clothes onto her bed before returning for the rest of her things, a few stray items of clothing, but, most importantly, her book. "I'll strip the bed and get your sheets washed," she muttered as she left the room for the third and final time.

Sitting on the empty piano stool, Warren tried to be discreet about the depth of his breaths and how he revelled in his whole room smelling of Karou. Staring at the crumpled mattress sheet, the folds Karou left in her wake encapsulated her scent in concentrated form. It was particularly torturous how appealing Karou's scent was since feeding from her. Nothing else really sated him, and his bloodthirst came quicker. It left him with mixed emotions of yearning and guilt. He suffered a dose of melancholy, too. Karou was cross with him for retreating behind his façade, but it was all he could do to behave since she made it clear that she didn't want to be toyed with. Since she'd rejected him on his birthday, he had tried not to lay a hand on her or say anything remotely suggestive. He'd even gone to the extreme and actively encouraged her friendships with other males; he didn't know that that had only made her bristle more. However, one thing that was proving impossible was keeping his eyes off her. It was almost as impossible as keeping her off of his mind. Stray thoughts had somewhat ruined his trip; Ellis had taken off only two days into his vacation as she couldn't cope with being in the palace with him and his 'poisoned thoughts' any longer. Incidentally, her premature departure hadn't disappointed Warren; actually, he'd greatly enjoyed the quality time alone with Magnus. They'd had many interesting conversations and puzzled through some of those poisoned thoughts together. Warren had ultimately come home with a clearer mind.

With his trip in mind, he absentmindedly responded to one of Karou's earlier comments, muttering to himself, "I wouldn't call my sex life interesting either..."

Karou had dressed in a 'too big' fit sweater and stepped into the hallway just as Warren spoke. She thought he had been talking to her and replied with, "really? How is Ellis?" she instantly regretted the snide remark and backtracked, "I mean Magnus, how's Magnus?"

"Huh? Oh..." he realised her faux pas and smirked, "he's good. I spent most of my time with him. Ellis left for Budapest two days into my trip, but honestly, two days with her were entirely enough," Warren stood from the piano stool, pulled the sweater from over his head, and carelessly tossed it onto the bed, unlike himself.

"Well, I'm glad you're back," Karou admitted, adding, "it's creepy here alone," before she turned and walked away.

✷✷✷

Warren glanced at his wristwatch; seven o'clock, he thought it was late enough to settle down for the night. Lounging back into his corner of the couch, he contemplated pouring himself a drink but didn't really crave one. He just wanted a deep and restful sleep and only made it to eight-thirty before his eyes flickered closed with his head lulled back into the leather.

Karou had been waiting. Perhaps twenty minutes passed, maybe thirty, but it felt long enough for Warren to have fallen fast asleep. She had stopped reading her book and reached to place it on the coffee table. Next, she crawled towards him as quietly as possible, tugging her blanket in tow. Then, she delicately covered him over and left him there. Climbing over the back of the couch, she tiptoed to the master bedroom and was quietly thankful that the sweater he'd been wearing earlier hadn't made it into his laundry. With what she'd come for in sight, she snatched up the garment and plunged her face into knitted wool, breathing in deeply. Her nose was in no way Vampiric in its sensitivity, but she still enjoyed Warren's scent almost sinfully. It was the only piece of her sensory memory she'd lost since he'd taken his vacation. What filled her nose brought back memories of their closer times, and that was her fix. Musk and smokey notes of tabbaco and sweet citrusy bergamot, where the hallmarks of his cigarettes and cologne. Karou pressed her nose harder into the fabric and breathed deeper hoping to sense the scent that had made her feel dizzy with passion when he'd worn no shirt at all. She'd never felt so high or alive than the night he'd bitten her. The passionate rendezvous in her books or the movies she'd watched didn't compare to her small glimpse of intimacy, regardless of how shallow the act had been on Warren's part. If she could never have it again, she wanted to remember it for as long as possible, and if that meant sneaking a sniff of a sweater or shirt every so often, then so be it.

Stood silently in the darkness of the hallway; he watched her. She looked serene, backlit by the pale moonlight that teamed in through his vertical bedroom windows. He knew what she was doing but didn't know why all of his assumptions irritated the already present ache in his chest in a way that wasn't pleasant; he supposed it hurt. "Karou?"

The sweater sailed from her hands to the floor. She'd never counted on getting caught. In explanation, all she managed was an incomprehensible stutter. Before Warren could do anything, Karou had brisked past him and closed her bedroom door completely to keep him out. In bed, engulfed in darkness and overwrought, she felt the weight of salty tears gathering in her eyes. Embarrassment, frustration, and anger muddled together in the tears that she shed. Taking cover under her quilt, she clenched it to herself tightly.

✷✷✷

It was already late, and eventually, she managed to get some sleep, but the lingering tension from her crying had made her neck tight. Gradually, the discomfort spread down her back, and before she realised it, she could no longer sleep. Her back ached in all the usual places. Lately, it had been getting progressively worse and more frequent. Although she'd told Warren that she had been to see the doctor to stop him from asking about it, she hadn't seen anyone. All her life, there had been something wrong with her—it had made her reluctant to engage with medical professionals. There was yet another thing to add to her list of ailments.

An hour passed, and the pain had been somewhat bearable while lying down, but the moment it wasn't, she was out of bed and pacing the hallway.

The rain pattering against his bedroom windows had relaxed him, but he hadn't found enough peace to drift into a deep sleep. He simply listened and rested in the sheets. When another layer of pitter-patter joined that of the rain, Warren sat up. Karou's awake. "Is it your back again?" Warren's voice called out into the darkness of the hall.

"Ngh. Mhmm," was all Karou replied. Their eyes didn't meet, and she didn't stop pacing. She walked the floorboards with her arms wrapped around herself.

Warren vanished from the doorway but soon returned with his usual remedy: a glass of water and a selection of pills. Extending his hand to Karou, she was well aware of the routine. Without hesitation, she accepted what he offered and swallowed them. "You know you don't have to wait for me to offer; you can just come in and help yourself."

"I can't… go rifling through… your drawer like that."

"Then I'll put them in the bathroom cabinet," with that said, Warren turned to go back to bed, "go get some rest, Karou."

Karou did as he instructed, seeing as rest was what she wanted most. The pills worked their magic, and soon, the pain subsided enough for her to fall asleep.

Warren didn't intend to sleep, though he wouldn't admit to himself why or for what reason. Instead, he sat at his piano, waiting. He listened attentively to her heartbeat and breathing pattern, looking for the tell-tale signs of peaceful slumber. Once Karou was suitably docile, he would make his move.

✷✷✷

Davikov Palace was cold throughout the year—winter, summer, rain, or shine; there was usually snow on the ground. It was at its most peaceful in the mid-afternoon when everyone had tucked themselves away in their private rooms, whether asleep or not, leaving the common areas desolate. Walking barefoot along the stone corridors and halls brought Warren a sense of calm. He had been in turmoil for about a month, and the emotional distress was beginning to take its toll.

The Coven kept a healthy stock of blood in the cellar, and he'd been well-fed during his stay, but that night, he woke up painfully thirsty after a particularly vivid dream. The events of his dream weren't real, but they'd been inspired by something that had taken place around his birthday. It was the catalyst to his troubles, but he'd only half come to that conclusion by his wilful ignorance. With his thirst came a familiar ache in his thigh that threatened to become a bigger nuisance if he didn't feed. He'd already stopped off and gotten himself a 'drink', but the ornate silver goblet he held in his hand was a little flashy for his taste; a tumbler would have sufficed, he'd thought. Still, he continued his afternoon stroll towards the highest rooms. When he arrived at the observatory, he took a seat. "You still awake?"

"Si, old men, don't sleep," Magnus replied, closing the book he'd been reading to look over at the man he loved as his son. They shared a stronger bond than Magnus had with his biological son, Enrique, and to Warren, Magnus was the father he'd always sought but left wanting in his father, Harry. "I can't sleep for the constant noise. The palace, she creaks and moans; it keeps me up. What's stirred you from your bed at this hour, mi hijo?"

"Dreams, thirst, pain, confusion—the usual culprits," Warren sipped at his goblet before setting it down on the table.

"You must have a lot on your mind. It isn't the usual suspect, is it?"

"I'm not thinking about work if that's what you mean. For once, I know which direction I'm headed in in that department. I shouldn't have anything to worry about at all. Cloned blood has become a fashionable commodity amongst my wealthier clients. It's the new fad: ecological, clean, and sustainable—"

"Your sales pitch won't work on me. I'm proud of you, but I have no interest in manufactured blood; I like my meals supplied by 'naturally grown produce'. You are talking about work to distract from the reason you are awake. And that trick won't work on me either."

"Hmm, you got me," Warren chuckled, took another sip, then stroked over the three days' growth on his chin. "I don't know that this dilemma is going to go away..."

"Si, you're stuck with her indefinitely."

"I... need more time."

"Time for what? She cannot leave until the war ends, and you will not give her what she wants. Either give in to her and stop wasting her time… or put her out of her misery, mi amigo."

"You don't mean that. You like her too much," Warren's brow furrowed deeply over his darkening eyes.

"Ha-ha! I'm not the only one who likes her too much, no? See, you have two choices. Do what it is you are agonising over, or don't. If you don't, then she will find someone who will..."