A Vampire's Guide To Summoning Demons (BL)

By the time Kath’tan roused, it was just him in the Vampire’s room. Dulce was awake and reading by the fireplace, the warm light of the hearth casting a golden hue on his features.

He sat up, the fog in his head had cleared. He had almost gone a fortnight without a wink of sleep, as prior to the summoning, he had stayed up to prepare for battle.

He watched the Vampire who hadn’t noticed his wakefulness, as strange and unfortunate an experience this had all been, it was also his first taste of something different. His whole life, he had been treated like a stain by those important to him, and as the unliked son of the Grand Duke by the rest, a bastard to everyone.

Here, he wasn’t treated like nobility, but even more than that, he was seen as himself, just another Fiend.

"What will you do if the witch can’t undo the summons?" He broke the silence, still seated on the bed.

Dulce looked over, Kath’tan’s vibrant red hair had loosened slightly from his leather strap, his elaborate clothes in a sorry state. "I try not to think about that," He said, sheepish and honest.

Kath’tan couldn’t seem to find the anger that made up his blood, perhaps he was distracted by sleep. The foolish Vampire wasn’t responsible for his well-being, and he had already more than paid back the mistake of summoning him.

He had to learn to be introspective because he had never been given the privilege to be selfish. So he also knew that Dulce was likely the reason he was still alive, twice over. Because if he hadn’t been taken from the battleground, it would have been his death day.

"But it would mean I bound you to me for all my days," Dulce went on, the reflection of a depthless emotion showing in those often dazed eyes. "So I’ll do my best to keep you from death at the hands of the assassin I summoned, and keep trying to undo my mistakes."

Kath’tan had been about to leave the bed when the Vampire spoke again, it gaze him pause, an inscrutable expression in his deep purple eyes. He rose to his feet and walked to the door without acknowledging the Vampire’s words, because he knew... he knew the foolish Vampire would keep to them.

It was so generous, how foolish, Dulce had no obligation to him. He returned to his rooms, but he still couldn’t find the anger that had always been a constant; his veins felt empty, like they had been washed clean with silver-blue water.

-+-

Dulce’s pleasant reading was interrupted by a knock on the door, a shivering servant bringing the news that the tailors had arrived for the fitting. It was shortly after dawn, yet preparations had already begun, the convenience of wealth and nobility was tempting.

Only he had been informed about the tailors, so he had to personally retrieve the Demons. He went to the door closest to his, as his rooms were at the very edge of the wing.

The doors opened to Asael, who looked him over with distant eyes, waiting without speaking.

"The tailors have arrived," Dulce spoke first, the barest hint of color remaining on his pale face. "Would you like new clothes?"

Asael’s quiet expression turned wry. He had planned to opt out of them, but in the moment, he found he couldn’t say no to the Vampire - that was a damning realization.

"Sure," He agreed, stepping out of his room.

In a short while, Dulce was leading a trio of Demons to the fitting room. The tailors were a mix of humans and Vampires, the humans plainly aware of the creatures they were dealing with.

Demons weren’t a surprise to Vampires as most had lived long enough to have been alive during the age of magic. Demons also occasionally visited Earth, so both species were as familiar as could be.

The human tailors, on the other hand, able to fully perceive the Demons were less desensitized, hands trembling, liquid pools of terror in their eyes.

The ordeal was done in under an hour; only a few sets of clothes would be made. The head tailor, a shriveled, old Vampire, turned to Dulce when the fitting was done.

"What colors would you like the clothes to be in?" He asked haughtily, treating the Demons like servants.

Dulce glanced anxiously at the Demons who stared the tailor down, instinctively moving closer to them to prevent any accidents. "They can answer that themselves."

"Black," Asael said calmly.

Ruoxi’s current clothes had been made in dark brown and creams, and on anyone else, it would look dowdy. But on the elegant Demon, it was soothing and tasteful. "Have them made in these colors." He pointed out pleasantly, unbothered by the treatment they received.

"Red," Kath’tan said with more haughtiness than the tailor could manage.

Ruoxi turned to the Fiend, "You’re already red, that’s ridiculous."

Kath’tan scowled, "And Asael is all black."

The Shadow Demon pretended not to hear his name being brought up in the conversation. He already wore black, and getting clothes dyed black was an easy task. Red, on the other hand...

"How about you get a red dress shirt?" Dulce mediated, "And black for..."

"I’m not wearing black." The Fiend cut in, although his imposing war outfit was mostly in blacks.

"Grey then?" Dulce lightly suggested another option, an endless well of patience.

"Fine." Kath’tan grudgingly accepted, and the tailors could get to work.

Rochefort was outside the fitting room when they stepped out, the Vampire singling out Dulce. "While the clothes are being made, how about you have a drink with me in the drawing room?" He invited.

Dulce grimaced, "A drink?"

"Naturally, I’ll provide whatever Lord Montesserat prefers. I have pleasant company over and deduced that you would prefer the company of like minds." He said smoothly, sweeping red eyes over the Demons as he spoke.

Dulce would rather not spend the day with either group, he would rather spend it reading by the fireplace. He had found an interesting book on pet care in his room and hoped to finish it before they had to resume their journey.