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As Alfred slowly drifts back into consciousness he’s aware that someone is talking to him. The timbre of the voice is soft but it’s unmistakably that of a man. As his senses switch back on he realizes he’s cold, so much so that he can’t feel his body. He tries to lift his head but it feels like it’s full of rocks so he can only manage to tilt it from one side to the other. His eyes feel dry and sticky as he raises his lids. The first thing he sees is his own naked body, he’s laying in a tub full of water that might be either cold or warm...he really can’t tell.
“There you are.” The voice coos gently and a finger slides under his chin and tilts his head up. Suddenly he’s looking into Herbert’s sky blue eyes and some semblance of a memory of what’s happened comes rushing back to him. They’d been fleeing, the professor and Sarah and him...but then what was he doing here and where are the other two?
“What have you done with Sarah!” With as panicked as he is it should have been a shout but it comes out as a wheezing gasp. His mouth is painfully dry and there’s a terrible pressure on his chest, as though someone were pushing down hard enough to crack the sternum. He’s also sure he meant to start struggling just then but he’s barely moved and even that little bit of exertion has sent his head spinning and his pulse racing. His vision start to blur and he nearly slips back into unconsciousness but is pulled back to the surface by Herbert’s hand on his cheek. The fact that the vampire’s skin feels warm compared to his own cements his certainty that there is something very, very wrong.
“Shhhh.” Herbert soothes. “You lost a great deal of blood, my sweet.”
“...blood?”
“My, my, you really are out of sorts, aren’t you?” Herbert sounds a strange mix of amused and sad. “Yes, liebling, by the time I got there there was what looked like gallons of you splattered all over the snow...I’m sincerely sorry I didn’t find you faster.”
The vampire cups his hands and uses them to pour some of the water over Alfred’s chest. The sleeves of his fine linen shirt are rolled up to his elbows. He runs his damp right hand through Alfred's hair, smoothing back his unruly curls.
“You can just thank your lucky stars fledglings have a tendency to be wasteful in their first frenzy or that little girl would have sucked you dry just like she did the old man.”
“Fledgling?” Alfred wouldn’t have thought he could feel worse but the despair that washes over him as it sinks in that the professor is dead AND they’ve failed to save Sarah’s soul hurts almost as much as his physical wounds. “Where IS she?”
“Why, with my vati of course.” A half hearted little smirk crawls across Herbert’s features. “Where did you expect she would have gone?”
The single sob that works it’s way up from Alfred’s chest seems to use up all the air he has in him and he begins to gasp for breath and then to panic. Herbert puts a hand on his shoulder to keep him from moving, not that he can very much, and brings the other to the back of his neck to stroke soothingly.
“Wha...what are you going to do with me?” Alfred stammers, barely audible, as it dawns on him just how vulnerable he is and just how hopeless his situation. Herbert gives him a look of the sort of genuine pity of which Alfred had been taught vampires were incapable (perhaps he’s only good at faking it?) and begins to lift him from the tub.
“First, my little mouse, I’m going to dry you off.” The vampire says as he wraps a towel around him and helps him to stand. “Then we need to have a talk.”
Herbert’s tone is inappropriately light, making the whole situation feel positively surreal. The fact that the room seems to spin when Alfred stands up doesn’t help. He somehow feels both as though his body weighs nothing and as though he’s too weak to lift his own limbs. Herbert catches him before he hits the ground. The vampire may look like a foppish wisp of fluff but he posses the same terrifying strength as the rest of his accursed ilk.
Alfred almost panics again as he’s laid onto Herbert’s bed (or rather his heart rate speeds up and his vision blurs a little but he’s barely able to get his body to move) but it subsides a little as he’s settled back against the pillows and covered by a thick quilt. The warmth and the weight of the blanket on him has him almost blacking out again until Herbert settles beside him, cross legged, jostling him out of his stupor. It takes all the strength he can muster to keep his eyes open and his head turned towards the vampire. He’s never wanted to just sleep so badly in his life.
“Not dozing off on me again are you?” Herbert asks teasingly, raking claw-like fingernails through Alfred’s hair.
“Why don’t you just kill me if that’s what you’re going to do?” Alfred says between labored breaths. Normally he’d be too terrified to speak in this situation but for once in his life he can’t find the energy to be afraid. It’s over anyway, even he knows when he’s been beat.
“Why don’t you just die if that’s what you want to do?” Herbert arches a meticulously groomed brow. “And when did I ever express any interest in killing you?”
Alfred trenches the shallow, muddy waters of what’s left of his mind for memories of Herbert having threatened him...he’s sure he has....or at the very least that he’s FELT threatened by him...like now for instance.
“You need to get your head clear darling, you have an important decision to make.” Herbert takes Alfred’s right hand between his and rubs it in a manner that seems intended to be comforting. Alfred notes with dull alarm that he can’t feel the vampire's touch at all...and that the tips of his numb fingers are an unnatural shade of blue.
“Decision?” Alfred’s sure that if his mind were still fully functioning it would be immediately apparent to him what Herbert means but it isn’t.
“Yes, mon cheri, you need to decide if you’ll be leaving or staying here with me.” Herbert punctuates the last word with a coy smile.