Chapter Text
Tony curled his hand around Steve’s elbow and pulled them to a stop in front of twin doors richly carved in a twisting vine pattern, birds and animal faces peeking out from behind foliage. The vampire smiled up at Steve, who quickly dropped his hand from the cheek Tony had just kissed, trying to school his features away from what the priest was sure was a dumbfounded expression. Tony’s smile widened, brown eyes sparkling, and reached over to push open the doors. “May I present to you, my dear Steve, the Stark Manor library!”
Sunlight spilled out of the open doorway, overly bright after the electric lights of the hallway. Tony gave Steve a gentle push forward and Steve stepped into the huge room, his gaze sweeping up and up. It seemed the library occupied all four stories of the manor house and the shelves of books stretched up to a ceiling painted with the celestial zodiac. A balcony ran around three walls, bisecting the library into two levels. The fourth wall was filled with windows that overlooked a green lawn and then a manicured hedge maze. Comfortable sofas and armchairs dotted the library floor in small groups, books scattered around in various stages of being read. There must have been thousands upon thousands of books. Through some French doors Steve could see a table set up on the patio with a tea service and a tray of sweets over which Jarvis was fussing.
“This isn’t all of it, of course,” Tony was saying, pulling Steve’s stunned attention back to the dark haired man. “A good portion of the Stark collection is on loan to the University Library and the City Archives. Mother always stressed how important it was to share and all that.”
“Of course,” Steve agreed faintly.
“What do you like to read?” Tony asked curiously. “We have a little bit of everything.”
“Oh. Um,” stuttered Steve. “Mostly just scripture and adventure novels, when I can get them. I don’t have time for much else.” Or the money for it.
Tony smiled and went over to a nearby couch to fuss with a pillow. “I like a good adventure novel. Pepper absolutely adores romance; although I know she’ll indulge in a horror thriller if she’s in the mood. Shhh. Don’t tell her I know. She thinks it’s unladylike or some such nonsense. This is Butterfingers.” Tony presented the pillow to Steve and he blinked in confusion before the pillow meowed in annoyance and unwound into an orange tabby cat. “Poor Butterfingers,” said Tony mournfully. “He keeps trying to become a sofa cushion but, alas, never seems to be able to do it quite right. Although the maids keep trying to fluff him when they clean, so I guess he’s making headway into being a throw pillow.” Steve couldn’t help himself; he laughed. Tony smiled at him. “That’s better. I like it better when you smile and laugh, Steve.” The priest felt his cheeks flush in embarrassment but continued to chuckle. Tony lifted Butterfingers up a little more. “Say hi.”
“Hello, Master Butterfingers,” Steve dutifully said, shaking one of the cat’s paws. The feline meowed and licked his nose.
“Oh, now it’s Master Butterfingers, is it? You’re coming up in the world, cat. Next you’ll be lord of the manor and I’ll be the one sunning myself on the furniture,” complained Tony. Steve’s smile went a little crooked at the suggestion of Tony stretched out like some contented animal in a sunbeam. Tony didn’t seem to notice as he lowered his head to forehead butt Butterfingers. “Stay off the furniture, beast,” scolded Tony lightly. He dropped the feline onto a large pillow on the floor right in front of the windows and Butterfingers curled up on it with a huff.
“Sir? The tea is ready,” Jarvis announced pointedly.
“Yes, tea!” exclaimed Tony with a grin. “Jarvis’ scones really are the best. You must have some, Steve.” He grabbed Steve’s arm and dragged him out onto the sunny patio. Tony stumbled to a stop next to the chairs, patting at his pockets and squinting in the bright light. “Damnation,” the vampire muttered. Concerned, Steve put his hand out to shade Tony’s eyes without thinking. His brown eyes looked kind of watery as Tony blinked up at Steve. “I think I left my glasses in the house,” he whined.
“Father Rogers?” called Jarvis. “If you could provide some assistance?” Steve looked over to find the older man tugging at an umbrella stand. Tony shut his eyes and flapped a hand at Steve. The priest hurried over, taking the stand out of Jarvis’ hands and dragging it over to the table. He fiddled with the catch and soon had the umbrella open and shading the patio.
Tony blinked his eyes open, twin tears running down his cheeks. He wiped them away quickly and grinned. “How annoying,” he said cheerfully. “I really must start keeping more sunglasses around the house.”
“You do,” said Jarvis drily. “You can just never find them again.” He picked up the teapot and began to pour tea into two blue china cups.
“Thank you, Jarvis,” Tony said a touch testily. He tugged the teapot away from the older man. “I’ll serve us. Why don’t you go find a warm place to take a nap?”
“Of course, sir,” said Jarvis, amusement thick in his voice. He disappeared into the library.
Tony rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Mark my words, 20 minutes from now he’ll have either found something to polish or fallen asleep in the kitchen in front of the fire.”
“Are you ok?” asked Steve. The vampire’s eyes still looked a little red and irritated to him.
Tony smiled and gestured to the other chair. “I’m fine. Sit. How do you take your tea? Sugar? Cream?” There was a loud meow from inside the library. “No, not you! Go back to sleep Butterfingers. No cream for you, you glutton,” called Tony.
Steve chuckled. “Sugar would be good. Thank you.” Tony dropped a sugar cube into the teacup with a pair of silver tongs and then gently set it down in front of Steve. The priest picked up a tiny golden spoon and tried to stir the tea without clicking the spoon against the sides of the teacup. His mother has said it was rude and annoying time and time again when he was a child. He tried to remember if he should place the elegantly folded linen napkin on the table in his lap or if that was considered ill-mannered as well.
“Please relax, Steve. If you get any tenser I’m afraid you’ll crack,” pleaded Tony, adding three sugar cubes to his tea. He picked up his own little golden spoon and rattled it around his teacup like a dinner bell, licked it, and set it down on the white tablecloth, staining that spot brown.
Steve blinked. “I’m trying to act proper and not make a fool of myself.”
Tony hooked the handle of a three tiered dessert tray with his fingertips and brought it closer to them. “Proper? What’s proper? Doilies and soup spoons and salad forks. Puh! I’d rather you relaxed. I could care less which hand you use to hold your utensils with. Do you like apricot?” Steve found himself smiling helplessly. Of course Tony wouldn’t care about his table manners. Tony would think it silly and trivial. The more time Steve spent with Tony the more he found himself fascinated and enraptured with the vampire. “Steve?” The priest focused, dragging himself away from staring at Tony’s mouth. The dark haired man gave Steve a confused smile.
“What?” asked Steve, having lost the thread of conversation.
“Apricot,” repeated Tony, “do you like it? There is also blueberry, if you prefer. Both are really very good.”
Steve dropped his gaze to the dessert tray in confusion. “Oh, the scones!” he exclaimed, it dawning on him what Tony was asking.
“Yes, the scones. My, that must have been a very interesting thought to hold your attention like that,” teased Tony. Steve flushed, taking a sip of his tea to hide behind. The vampire did not need to know that the interesting thought had been purely about him. “And now you are blushing!” Tony exclaimed, laughing. “One would think you were having very naughty thoughts indeed with a blush like that.”
Shame drifted across Steve’s face. Did he know? How could he know? Had Steve done something to give himself away? “My lord, I would never…! It would never cross my mind to…! I would never be so rude and I am a man of the cloth!” he blustered, face paling. His hand shook as he set his teacup back on its saucer, the china rattling.
Tony’s smile dropped away and he reached out to grab Steve’s forearm. “Steve, calm down! I was only teasing, I swear. I didn’t mean anything by it.” He leaned forward and rubbed at Steve’s arm, brown eyes concerned. “I’m so sorry. Pepper is always saying I could insult the fleas off a stray dog. Please forgive me?”
Steve felt like he could suddenly breathe again. Tony was just being his usual self, then. A little overly familiar, a little overly friendly with other people but nothing really meant by it. The vampire didn’t know. If the priest had his way, Tony would never know. Steve knew that his budding feelings and attraction for the lord were unadvisable in so many ways. It was just…very hard to sometimes remember that when Tony was smiling at him. Steve drudged up his own smile for his friend. Tony still looked worried. “No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have reacted so harshly. I don’t know what came over me.”
“Are you feeling ok?” demanded Tony, shifting forward to perch on the edge of his chair and subsequently bringing himself that much closer to the other man. “You’re not ill, are you?” Tony reached up and placed the back of his hand delicately on Steve’s forehead. Steve blinked in surprise and froze as Tony’s hand drifted down to touch his cheek. “You don’t feel overly warm,” the vampire said, pursing his lips. He dropped his hand to Steve’s shoulder and leaned in even closer, scrutinizing Steve’s face. “You do look a little tired, though. You’ve been through a lot lately, Steve. You mustn’t let yourself get overly tired and fall ill. I shall be most upset if you catch a fever.” Tony looked concerned and worried again, his fingers lifting to brush over Steve’s cheek again. “Promise me you’ll rest more?”
Steve nodded. “I promise I’ll rest more,” he said, his chest growing tight. He almost felt as if he were going to have an asthma attack, although that hadn’t happened since he was a young teen.
Tony smiled, still leaning close. “Thank you,” he replied. He squeezed Steve’s shoulder and forearm. Steve’s head began to dip down, as if pulled by a heavy weight. His gaze dropped from Tony’s eyes to his lips of their own accord, the scent of sandalwood filling his nose as he drifted closer. Steve felt out of control and dazed, his mind foggy. Tony’s smile softened and he tilted his chin slightly up. “Steve?” he asked softly. Steve blinked and paused, aware of hanging on a precipice and unsure if he wanted to fall over; unsure if he should allow himself to fall over.
A sharp loud barking sounded and they jerked apart. Steve fell back in his chair as Tony stood. At first Steve felt relief at the interruption but then the loud barking came again and fear ran cold through his blood. He thought of the hellhounds that had circled the church while he and Tony had huddled inside, the vampire still injured.
“Oh, I am going to have him neutered!” growled Tony, stomping one foot. “With a rusty kitchen knife too!”
“What is it?” asked Steve, slightly breathless. He didn’t know if it was from fear or the almost kiss. “Hellhounds?” he squeaked.
Tony blinked down at him in surprise. “Oh no, Steve. It’s okay. We’re safe here,” reassured Tony. “Hellhounds can’t be out in sunlight and anything else would have a hard time coming onto my property. We’re protected here. It’s just Happy running the dogs.” The dark haired man gave an irritated flap of his hand toward the lawn and Steve looked over to see about half a dozen sprinting shapes flying across the green, excited yips and yaps filling the air. Tony sat back down in his chair with a disgruntled air. “Which he is doing early today, the bastard,” the vampire muttered, taking a scowling sip of his tea.
The group of canines raced across the lawn, slightly curving their direction toward the house. “Um, are they friendly?” Steve asked, concerned as their path neared the patio.
“Exceedingly. I hope you don’t mind being enthusiastically licked,” Tony replied. Steve stared at him but Tony was watching the pack approach. Did everything the vampire say have to be so suggestive sounding or was Steve’s mind really that dirty? The first of the dogs clattered onto the stone of the patio and Steve tensed, preparing to be jumped all over. “Sit!” snapped Tony. Furry butts hit the floor, tails wagging excitedly and pink tongues lolling out between sharp fangs. “Good. Good,” praised Tony. He then clicked his tongue and the dogs trotted sedately forward. Some surrounded Tony’s chair while others began sniffing around Steve.
“Hello,” Steve said cautiously as a fluffy brown dog licked at his fingers. A cream colored dog set their front paws on the arm of the chair and sniffed at Steve’s shoulder. Steve gave them some wary looks, finding himself to be rather ambivalent about dogs after having seen the hellhounds.
“No, Beatrice, down! Steve is a friend. Be polite,” ordered Tony. The cream colored dog dropped down to all four paws and panted happily up at Steve. A sleek silver dog sat next to Tony’s chair and he reached down to stroke along the narrow head and graceful neck. “Hello, Athena. How is my pretty girl doing? Are you keeping all these ragamuffins in line?” The dog whined and shoved her nose into Tony’s palm. “Yes, yes, I know. Enough talk, more treats. Greedy things.” Tony reached over to the scone sitting on the delicate plate in front of him and crumbled it up. Athena licked up the morsel he offered her in a flash. A big dark shaggy dog, easily a head taller than the other dogs, whined and pawed at Tony’s knee. The vampire glared down at him. “None for you, fiend. You and I are going to have words later. Your behavior is unacceptable and you know it.” The big dog slunk under the table, tail tucked between his legs.
Steve glanced under the table, feeling sorry for the dog, but the canine only glared back at him resentfully with huge yellow eyes. There was a hiss behind them followed by a yelp and Steve turned to find Butterfingers facing down a fawn colored dog with white paws that had wandered over to his pillow, the feline puffed up to twice his usual size. Butterfingers swiped again at the dog’s nose and the dog retreated back across the patio. It attempted to wedge itself behind Tony’s knees, whining pitifully. “Stop it, Bosco. You’re not a puppy anymore and much too big to be doing that. You know to leave the cats alone. Let me see your nose,” said Tony. The vampire cupped the dog’s chin in his hand and studied his black nose for scratches. “Oh you’re fine, you big baby.” Tony rubbed down Bosco’s chest and fed him a hunk of scone.
Steve broke apart his own scone and fed it to the dogs currently staring up at him with big soulful eyes. The cream colored dog hopped back up and attacked his face with happy licks. “Beatrice, no. Down,” chuckled Steve, pushing the dog away with his arm. Okay, so not all dogs were bad. He glanced back at the dog lurking under the table and held out a piece of scone. “Do you want some, boy? It’s good,” Steve coaxed. The dog gave a huff and turned his head away.
“That is an exercise in futility if I ever saw one, Steve. Don’t bother, he’s deep into his sulking right now,” said Tony, rubbing at the ears of a long faced black and tan dog. He clapped his hands, which made all the dogs perk up. “Alright, mutts. Time to go. Shoo. Go run and chase each other and whatever else dogs do that makes them happy. Except dig in the flower beds. Stay out of the flower beds.” Tony let out two short whistles and pointed out toward the lawn. The dogs stood and flowed forward as one, racing off the patio and galloping across the green. The big dark shaggy dog bumped the table as he left, making everything on top rattle, and Tony grabbed for his teacup before it could roll off. “Brat! Don’t make me get the hose!” shouted the vampire. The dog bayed loudly and ran off with the rest of the pack. Tony sighed and righted his cup, grabbing his napkin to wipe the spilled tea off his hand.
“Those are some interesting dogs you keep, Tony,” said Steve. They were not exactly what Steve thought a lord would keep. Mostly he imagined dark coated hunting dogs.
“They’re mutts, all of them,” Tony said with a snort. “Happy keeps bringing strays home and then whines incessantly if I don’t let him keep them. Worse than Pepper was with the cats. At least she stopped after three. I feel like I’m running an animal rescue.”
“Where is Happy?” asked Steve. He couldn’t see the driver anywhere out on the lawn.
Tony glanced at where the pack of dogs was running out near what was either a small lake or a very large pond. “He must be waiting at the kennel,” Tony said dismissively. “The property is completely fenced. The dogs will be fine.” He picked up the teapot and poured some more tea into their cups. “Here, take another scone. Hopefully you’ll get to actually eat this one.”
Steve chuckled and quickly took a bite. “It’s good,” he praised after swallowing. The top was sprinkled with a layer of crispy sugar, probably in deference to the vampire’s love of sweets.
“Jarvis will be pleased you think so. Especially since he’s lurking in the library even though I told him to go rest somewhere!” Tony called back over his shoulder, turning his head to glare at the French doors. “I can hear your heartbeat, Jarvis. It’s quite impossible to hide from me.”
The older man stepped out onto the patio, his face bland. “I merely wanted to see if you or Father Rogers required anything, sir?”
“We’re fine, Jarvis,” replied Tony with a sigh. “Did Cook kick you out of the kitchen again? I told her not to overdo it just because we’re having a guest for dinner. She always insists on doing something special.”
“I have no idea what you are talking about, sir,” said Jarvis calmly, although Steve noticed a small muscle above his eye twitch once. “I also wanted to suggest that Father Rogers might be interested in the Stark collection of Saint’s letters.”
Steve swallowed his mouthful of tea before he could choke on it. “You have Saint’s letters?” he asked, unable to hide the excited tone to his voice.
“My mother was a ferocious collector. I think we have a little bit of everything and a lot of most things,” Tony said with a thoughtful frown. He looked at Jarvis. “Are any of the Saint Paul letters here or are those all at the City Archive?” Steve felt a little thrill shoot through him. Letters from Saint Paul weren’t even displayed to the public and it took a lot of influence to get the chance to study them, influence that Steve could not hope to have being the priest of just a small city parish.
Jarvis nodded. “I believe we have some here, sir, as well as most of the Saint Augustine and the Saint Bernard collections as well. There are other correspondent collections of lesser church members available that might also interest Father Rogers.”
Tony hummed, taking a sip of tea and seemingly not noticing Steve tense form sitting next to him. Finally, the vampire smiled. “Would you like to see the collection, Steve?” Tony asked with a mischievous smirk.
“Yes!” Steve said excitedly, just short of shouting.
Tony chuckled at him. “Have a case or two brought up from the vaults, Jarvis. Something you think Steve would be interested in,” he instructed the older man.
Jarvis bowed his head a little. “Of course, sir.”
“And don’t try to lift the cases yourself,” Tony called to his retreating back. “Have one of the others do it. I know Peter is lurking somewhere down in the lab. Have him do it.” The dark haired man huffed as Jarvis gave him an acknowledging nod before disappearing out of the library. “Pepper will be so mad if he tries to lift one of those storage cases himself,” muttered Tony, drinking the last of his tea.
“It seems as if Jarvis is trying his best to be of use to you,” Steve said cautiously, aware it wasn’t his place to comment on Tony’s household.
Tony sighed. “I think he feels indebted to me or something, for both saving his sister and providing them both with a home. I don’t need Jarvis to be a butler. I have a house staff. I pay them very handsomely to make sure the house is taken care of and doesn’t turn into a pigsty. Somehow they all take orders from Jarvis and Pepper now. Not that I care. Lord knows I have better things to do then keep track of who’s turn it is to dust the upper floors or when the rugs were last cleaned. But they’re not here to keep track of that either. Did you know I have regular arguments about Jarvis and Pepper even getting paid? It’s like they are trying to work for free or some such nonsense. I don’t understand it.” Tony set his teacup down on its saucer with a clatter, frustration clear on his face.
“I think,” Steve said hesitantly, “that it’s more of a desire to make sure you are taken care of, rather than just the house.”
“I don’t need a bloody nanny. I…” Tony cut himself off, looking toward the door to the library. Steve heard the squeak of wheels and then a cart was pushed into the room by a gangly young man with barely tamed brown hair.
Jarvis came in behind the cart and pointed to a long table. “If you could transfer the cases onto the table, Mr. Parker, I would be grateful.”
“Sure thing, Mr. J,” replied the young man, pushing the cart over to the table and transferring the cases onto it. Jarvis held back a cringe as the cases scratched the wooden surface.
Tony dabbed at his mouth with his napkin and then threw the linen onto the table. “Come,” he said to Steve, standing. “Let’s see what goodies we can find for you to examine.” Steve did likewise with his napkin and then followed Tony back into the library. “Peter! You are getting what I truly hope is just soot all over the rug,” Tony called mock sternly.
The young man grinned, wearing a loose shirt and indeed tracking some sort of black dirt on the floor from his boots. “We can call it soot if that makes you feel better,” teased Peter, rubbing at his nose and leaving behind a streak of black.
Tony gave a long suffering sigh. “I suppose you are making an utter mess of my laboratory as well?”
“Just a small mess, Tony. Promise!” Bright brown eyes drifted over to Steve and the priest found himself unable to resist the infectious nature of the boy’s grin. “Evening, sir,” Peter said, vowels loose and dropping the ‘g’.
“Good evening,” replied Steve.
“You the religious man that saved Tony?” demanded the young man.
“Peter,” singsonged Tony disapprovingly.
“I just want to know,” Peter said defensively.
“It’s alright,” soothed Steve. He smiled at Peter. “I am.”
Peter grinned huge and rubbed at his nose again, darkening the streak. “I’d shake your hand, Father, but I don’t want to mess up your cloths. All I’m going to say is that we’re all grateful for what you did for Tony. We don’t know what we’d do without him. So, thanks.” The boy shrugged, as if it was no big deal, and then turned his attention to Tony. “Can I stay for dinner?”
Tony snorted but nodded. “Have Pepper send a message to your Aunt and Happy will take you home afterward.”
A mulish look overtook Peter’s grin. “I can get home by myself. I don’t need Hap to take me.”
“I’m well aware,” Tony replied blandly. “But I live in fear of your Aunt’s wrath and so Happy is still taking you home. Now shoo. Go back downstairs and try not to burn your eyebrows off.”
Peter gasped in outrage. “That was one time and it was more Wade’s fault than it was mine!”
Tony’s eyes gleamed, a predatory little smirk curling his lips. “Then you admit that Wilson was down in the laboratory when I expressly forbad that little nutjob from being anywhere near there.”
Peter paled and hightailed it out of the library. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! See you at dinner! Bye!” the young man called over his shoulder, disappearing down the hallway.
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose and gave an amused but long suffering chuckle. “Such a bright boy. It’s a pity his best friend is an utter loon,” Tony muttered. He dropped his hand and looked at Jarvis. “Thank you, Jarvis. We should be fine for now.”
Jarvis nodded and made to leave. “I’ll inform you when dinner is ready, sir.”
“Go take a nap!” Tony shouted after him before turning his attention to the cases on the table.
“Who was that?” asked Steve, stepped forward to peer down at the cases himself. They were marked three, four, and five with a few scribbled words under the labels that Steve could not make out.
Tony hummed questioningly, fingers drifting over a numbered keypad. “Who?”
“The boy? Peter Parker?”
“Oh, him. Peter is a very bright young man that I’m sponsoring at the University.”
Steve blinked in surprise. “He’s in University? But he’s so young.”
“Like I said, a very bright young man. I let him use my laboratory so the professors won’t try to ring his neck when he inevitably makes a mess.” Tony’s fingers danced over the keypad and the case gave a beep and then a deep hiss. The lid clicked and Tony lifted it off, revealing several smaller boxes and packages wrapped in oil cloth. Tony grinned. “Let’s see if we can find something interesting to look at.”
Steve peered eagerly inside, fingers itching to pull everything out and start reading. “Do you know what everything is?” he asked.
“Um.” Tony cocked his head to the side and read the tag. “Correspondents from Abbey Anne and various personal letters. Well, that’s unhelpful.” He lifted out an oil cloth wrapped package and untied the laces, revealing a small book, the leather cracked with age. “I guess we’ll just have to start looking ourselves. Here.” Tony held the old book out to Steve.
The priest took it gingerly. “Shouldn’t I be wearing gloves or something?” he asked hesitantly.
Tony shook his head, opening boxes made of a waxy pulpy material used to keep moisture away. “Just be gentle with it. It’s fine.” Steve nodded and sat the book on the table, sitting in a chair and eagerly but carefully opening the cover, leaning forward to read the cramped handwriting.
June 12, 1509
Abbey Anne
Sister Mary Clare is supervising the first harvest of the herb garden. The entire Cloister smells like rosemary…
Steve lost himself in the diary. Tony opened the other cases and got the blond some scrap paper and a pen to make notes on, chuckling at Steve’s enthralled expression. Steve gingerly turned each page, the paper was brittle and rough under his fingertips. Little notes written into the margins of the diary amused him.
‘Three bushels of wheat from the Hale farm - $4’
‘Candles – 5 boxes’
‘Rose May used beet juice to dye her hair again.’
‘A rat was found in the granary again. Sister Phyllis suggests getting a cat.’
Steve was so engrossed that he didn’t notice as the room slowly darkened as evening advanced and Jarvis came back to turn the electric lights on, the sky outside the windows a deep blue. The priest progressed from the diary to a ledger where a Father Russell professed that George Kelly was an overcharging crook. After that was a package of pastoral letters where a single word caught Steve’s attention and sent his heart racing. Vampire. His blue eyes danced back up the page to double check the date.
Pastor Thompson
September 1552
There have been reports of another sighting up near the town of Penn. That makes three this week. The farmers have taken to staking dogs around the fields as they harvest but more often than not the beasts are found torn apart as well. There has been talk of men forming an armed security force to patrol the area but Sheriff Doon said he would arrest any group roaming around armed under the mob and vigilante laws. I’ve had four families come to me wanting their ranches blessed to protect them. Six more cattle, including a bull, have been found dead, mutilated.
Mr. Stane says it’s not the vampires and most people seem to believe him. The vampires seem to be just as mystified and afraid of what is happening as the rest of us. Haines is organizing another werewolf hunt next week. They tried to buy more guns and silver bullets from Lord Stark but it seems they have stopped making them. There has been grumbling about Lord Stark being a wolf sympathizer but he has apparently disappeared off the face of the earth and nobody has seen him since the spring. Mayor Howlett is calling for people to remain calm and not to confront any creatures they might see roaming the night. Bishop Ross says it’s only a matter of time before these creatures start killing humans.
“Steve? Steve!” Steve jerked his head up from the letter, wide blue eyes staring at Tony. The vampire looked worried. “Your heart is racing like a rabbit’s, Steve. Whatever is the matter?”
Steve licked dry lips. “This letter has your name in it.” He glanced down at the date again and frowned. “Well, not you really. Maybe your father?”
Tony stood, setting his pencil down on what appeared to be a half-finished technical drawing, and came around the table. The vampire pulled a chair close and sat next to Steve, leaning forward and quickly reading through the letter. “Hmm,” he hummed in agreement. “Yes, my father. And Obie too, by the looks of it.”
“The creature this talks about, it’s the Forsaken isn’t it?” asked Steve, setting the letter down carefully, as if it might bite.
“Yes,” replied Tony solemnly. “The first vampires to be infected by the virus came from the Albany Valley area, to the north. In just a few short years, it had swept south across the York Plains and into what was then just the Manhattan Township. It was so swift and so contagious that by the beginning of the 17th century the only vampires left were the mere 5% of the population that proved to have complete immunity. The rest had fallen to the disease and become the Forsaken.”
“But what did your Father and Mr. Stane have to do with it?”
“What do you know about the Forsaken, Steve? Were you taught any history involving them in school?”
“Not that I can remember,” Steve said slowly, thinking back. “We were taught to fear the vampires, to run and hide, to never go outside at night without a weapon. There was nothing about where the creatures came from; they were always just there, lurking in the dark.”
Tony nodded a little. “I suppose four hundred years is long enough to bury the facts and they would have wanted to bury those facts as deeply as they could. It’s why old church records are so hard to find or to get permission to view. They don’t want a clever novice to connect the dots and get talkative.” The vampire leaned back in his chair, looking slightly pained. “My Father never talked much about when the disease began to ravage the vampire population but my Mother was more forthcoming when I was finally old enough to get curious. When the attacks on the livestock and wild animals in the area began people were confused. Then the reports of large deformed beasts began to circulate and although nobody had seen the beasts kill, humans and vampires alike supposed it was the beasts killing the animals. People were afraid. Hunts for large predators began, driving many species of large wild cat out of the area. Then the hunts for werewolves began, even though the lycanthrope population was already dwindling back then. Normal wolves were hunted to extinction. It was easy for suspicion to fall to undesirable people after that. Rumors of cults began. There was a flare of witch burnings around that time. People that had always been prejudice against vampire began to claim that we weren’t obeying our own feeding laws. It fanned the flames. The hunts soon began to target vampires themselves and many went underground, choosing to hide and isolate themselves in hopes of avoiding the humans now blaming the vampires for the deaths of livestock and, as feared, other humans as well, and also trying to keep themselves safe from the spreading disease. It didn’t take very long before authorities found a vampire family half riddled with the virus, in pain and half turned into monsters, and they realized what was really happening.” Tony rubbed at his face and stood, going over to a side table and pouring himself a small glass of dark liquid from a crystal decanter.
Steve glanced back down at the letter, feeling unsettled. “Was there no hope for a cure? No way to pass the immunity to others?”
Tony gulped down his drink and shook his head. “No. You either already had immunity or you eventually caught the disease. Sharing blood between the two was ineffective and they simply did not have the technology to do more. Even now, tests to use our immunity to kill the Forsaken end in failure. We can devise ways to slow them, even badly injure them, but the only successful way to kill a Forsaken remains to cut off their heads.”
“It’s lucky your family has immunity,” whispered Steve, swallowing down nausea.
“We are lucky,” Tony said softly. “Not all families were. Both of my parents were immune and passed the trait on to me. If a child had one parent who was immune and one who was not, they had a 50/50 chance of inheriting immunity. It tore many families apart when only half their members survived or became sick. New vampires that were bitten by those immune gained their sire’s immunity but it couldn’t be passed between two already made vampires. Now, the only ones to remain are those with the immunity.” The dark haired man sat back in the chair next to Steve, looking wan and exhausted.
“And your Father and Mr. Stane?” Steve asked again tentatively.
“Stark Industries has always had its fingers in many pies, Steve, including weapons manufacturing and biological research. When it became apparent that the reports of large monsters killing livestock were not just a wild fantasy or a mangy pack of wild dogs, my Father began production on weapons, mostly swords and guns with exploding rounds. Shooting a Forsaken with regular gunpowder rounds will slow them but not really stop them. Swords are best but they require a type of speed and strength to successfully use that we’ve had to specifically cultivate in the Hunters.” Tony sighed, his brown eyes dark. Steve could tell this was an uncomfortable topic for him. “When they learned that the beasts were really diseased vampires, my Father took my Mother and fled south, trying to outrun it. They didn’t know at that point about some vampires having immunity. He went to Manhattan and focused on biological research, looking for a cure or a vaccine. Obadiah Stane was and is the front man for Stark Industries. He dealt with the public while my Father worked feverishly to develop effective weapons and figure out how to combat the disease. We’re still doing that, with only middling success.”
“So, the real truth about the Forsaken and vampires was buried in the past?” asked Steve.
“People thought the only way to destroy the Forsaken was to destroy all the vampires, even those who proved to have immunity. Fear makes even the most rational men unreasonable. Immune vampires were so good at hiding that eventually people thought there was only the Forsaken left. That vampires had ever been anything else besides those poor monstrous beasts was forgotten by time and political maneuvering. In fact, if not for the surviving vampires, humans would have been overrun by the Forsaken long ago. My Father was instrumental in organizing and supplying the Hunters and the Guild, a tradition I keep with to this day.” Tony looked as pale as he had when Steve had found him nearly dead on the church chancel steps and his voice grew gruffer the more he spoke.
Steve looked down at the letter and bit his lip. “And you’re still not able to find a cure? What about Pepper? You saved her.”
“There is no cure,” Tony stressed. “The only way to stop a Forsaken is to kill them and I was only able to save Pepper because she had just been attacked. There is a very narrow window where anything might be done to save a person and after that the virus has taken too much of a hold to be dealt with. But what I did was dangerous for both her and I. Drawing the poisoned blood out of her was a painful ordeal for us both and if I had done it wrong, I would have killed her as surely as the disease. I had to keep feeding her my own blood for her first meal as there was no other clean source available and was so drained afterward that I almost couldn’t get us back to safety. We were lucky. It could have ended much differently. Most see it as a better mercy just to kill them before they finish transforming.” Tony’s voice ended in a soft whisper. He coughed and cleared his throat. “It’s rare that a Forsaken leaves those they attack intact enough that they can change into a Forsaken. Mostly victims are just torn apart and devoured. Pepper was only just alive because I had interrupted the beast at his meal.” Tony stood and paced around to the other side of the table, clearly agitated. “Have I answered your questions sufficiently?” he demanded, a hint of pleading in his voice.
Steve fiddled with his pen, feeling cold. “Yes. Thank you for telling me all that,” he said sincerely, making sure to look up and meet Tony’s eyes, the blond’s jaw tightening stubbornly. It was a lot to take in and the new information swirled around in his head but he had wanted to know, to understand this new world he had gotten himself involved in, and Steve could tell it had been painful for Tony to share so much.
Tony looked away, a hand reaching up rub at his forehead. “I need another drink,” he muttered, striding back over to the side table and pouring another glass of dark liquid. The vampire knocked it back in a single swallow and poured another right after.
Steve looked up as there was a soft knock on the door. Jarvis stepped in, sensing the tension in the air and eyeing the two men warily. “Dinner is ready to be served, Sir.”
“I believe we have both lost our appetite,” snapped Tony shortly.
“No, please don’t,” said Steve. “You said Cook had been looking forward to cooking for a guest. I don’t want to disappoint her. Don’t let our conversation stop us from enjoying dinner. Please?” he coaxed.
Tony gave Steve a considering look and sat the half full glass of liquor back on the side table. “It would be a shame to waste Cook’s special spiced beef and I will never hear the end of it from Pepper if I made her drag out the good table linens and then had a ‘childish fit’, as she would say.” The vampire dredged up a weak smile, although Steve was very glad to see even that. “Very well. Jarvis, we shall be there momentarily. Don’t let Peter eat all the potatoes before we arrive.”
Jarvis nodded, curious gaze drifting from Tony to Steve. “I shall try, Sir,” the older man said and disappeared out into the hallway.
Tony looked down at Steve and his smile curled a little more genuinely, the tension easing from around his eyes. “There is a bathroom across the hall you can use to clean yourself up in.” Steve gave him a confused blink and Tony chuckled lightly, reaching forward to rest the tips of his fingers on the back of the priest’s hand. “You are covered in ink and dust,” explained the vampire.
Steve looked down at himself in surprise. His shirt was indeed covered in grey dust and bits of crumbled paper. Ink had dripped between his thumb and forefinger and smudged on his wrist. “Oh my! I didn’t even notice!” He stood up carefully, not wanting to get the ink on anything else. He hoped he hadn’t ruined any of the letters or books from the cases.
“Go on,” said Tony, pushing gently on his shoulder to turn him around. “Get cleaned up and then we can eat.”
“But the papers…?” Surely they would not be safe just sitting out like that, especially if there were animals about? The cats had already shown a disregard for not getting on the furniture.
“I’ll have someone take care of it. Go on!” Tony urged. Steve nodded and trotted toward the hallway, inky hand held awkwardly out to the side. Behind him, Tony gave a shout of “Carol!” and then, and Steve could not be hearing this right, seemed to chirp loudly. Steve glanced over his shoulder but Tony was facing away from him, gathering up papers from the tabletop. The priest shook his head at himself because he was obviously hearing things and crossed the hallway to the bathroom to make himself presentable for dinner.