Chapter 31: Chasing the Dawn

As it turned out, there was only one bed big enough for sharing, on the plane. It was a box bed, and usually all the vampires shared it during the daylight hours of the flight—which were many, as they were chasing the morning—and Scarpa had been a last-minute addition, so nobody was sure Aix would be comfortable sharing with a stranger; but after sitting and chatting with Scarpa for a while (and it was mostly just them talking to each other for the first hour or so—Aix got along extremely well with plastic surgeons), both about all of Aix’s surgeries and also about surgery generally, Aix and Scarpa were fast friends—and Aix even felt like he could segue into the kinks related to surgery, something he’d never really spoken of with anyone.

‘Knowing you, it’s not what the rest of the world thinks of,’ Cameron said, ‘but I can’t figure out what it would be, exactly.’

‘Well,’ Aix said, ‘Because I don’t have male gaze, it’s… from my perspective. Like… context: I grew up being told I had a pretty body shape, and nice hair, but that I was hideous in every other respect. I wasn’t allowed makeup, or primping, or like… knowing how social stuff worked. I didn’t get a slut era in my twenties either, because by then I was stuck with an insecure killjoy. So it’s like…’ he gesticulated. ‘Like, what would be like, to not have to be The Smart Girl, but to get to be just… Pretty Dolly? Only for playing with. Only for makeup and getting the privilege of not having to be smart anymore. It’s like pet play, in that sense—except instead of a puppy, I wanna be a barbie doll.’

‘Didn’t know what she did had a whole name. You think she knows?’ Scarpa asked, glancing at René.

‘She knows everything,’ René said, with calm confidence, before turning to explain to Aix: ‘There was another ruler of Baltimore, parallel to my old master, who never dared bother her, because it was said she could… take your intelligence.’

‘That’s hot,’ Aix said, with heavy vocal fry. ‘I mean, if you can do hypnosis, then I’d believe someone can do brain drain.’ He wondered why they weren’t saying her name.

‘You have a phrase for everything, don’t you?’ René said, and Aix felt his approval, even though he couldn’t exactly even stand to look fully at René’s face, at the moment (he could sometimes, just not when he was socialising so energetically).

‘I’m a wordsmith, so if there isn’t a phrase I’ll make one!’ Aix said brightly. ‘I have a licence and everything. Will she be at the council?’

René turned to look at Michaela, who was playing cards with Victoria and Cthulhu and Pippin (to be fair, it was a simple card game).

‘Oh, like she’s gonna tell me if she doesn’t tell Scarpa,’ Michaela said, setting down a blue 6 card.

‘If Mistress does come,’ Victoria said, ‘she’ll probably bring Flossie. You’d like Flossie, Aix dear, she’s a sheep furry.’

Because Aix was in the box bed, Kitten and Pippin wanted to be in there too, but Kitten needed to be able to come and go, so Aix explained he had to sleep with Pippin with Tata Vee or Tata Mike or Big Brother Cammie, or Joe, and Pippin would be with him, and Aix would come and see him right away when he woke up.

They all slept at the same time as the vampires (except for Hext, piloting), and when Aix woke up, he made good his promise to Kitten, holding him and carrying him to the little kitchenette, singing quietly to him the song that Aix had woken up with today. He always woke up with a song stuck in his head, and he’d just gotten used to it, and the kitten needed to get used to him singing.

Pippin sang with him, perfectly in harmony, her voice beautiful and clear, surprising Aix into stopping, as he handed her a bowl of mixed fruit.

Pippin showed Aix a memory, the hands and voice of this friend—hands on a harpsichord, hands on a mandolin, long and pretty and strong and gentle hands, and a high and crystalline voice, many voices.

Aix didn’t think anything of it, just filed it away—Pippin had been the pet of some opera soprano or other, maybe a few of them at once? And they had taught Pippin to sing, that was so sweet.

‘We’re going to see some special opera singers, did you know that?’ Aix said, sitting down on the kitchen floor to pet Kitten, to make sure he didn’t get aggressive about his food. He purred, even though he kept busily eating his wet food.

‘Mhm, they’re very special. It’s hard to explain, but they’re the last ones in the whole world like them.’ René had told Aix about them, and Aix had been so excited he’d had to run around flapping for several minutes, screaming excitedly.

After the baby was done with the wet food (he always had dry food, he was a kitten and so didn’t have bad habits like overeating because he was bored; but wet food was for breakfast), he settled down for a bath, and Aix turned his attention, after throwing the paper plate in the bin (they had limited water), to making coffee, because everyone drank coffee, even the vampires. He made a little for himself, then went to sit at the remaining little table with his laptop, and write a bit. He wrote best in the morning quiet, and this morning was very quiet. When Pippin was done with her breakfast, he helped her clean her hands with some baby wipes.

‘Water’s for drinking in the airship, okay? Not for washing.’ Aix tried to convey the concept of conserving water for drinking, which was an alien concept for him to explain, as it was so normal in his mind—he was from the desert. But Pippin had never seen a desert, had never lived anywhere that water was scarce, so it was a little scary to her.

Victoria woke up first, and it was startling to see her walk around, even though this wasn’t the first time Aix had seen her walk around. She waved sleepily before disappearing into the bathroom, then coming over to sit with him.

‘Coffee?’ she asked, and Aix realised that the kitten was still a trip hazard in the kitchenette, and got up to get her some coffee, bringing over the cream and sugar packets, and a little swizzle for stirring, before going back to his writing quietly, knowing not to talk to someone before their coffee.

Cameron got up next, but all he did was climb into the box bed and Dmitri got out at the same time, fully naked, and latched the door behind Cameron.

‘Ashley,’ Victoria said, pointedly. He looked over at them, and had an entire conversation with Victoria with eyebrows and facial expressions, Aix pointedly staring fixedly at his laptop screen.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to see Dmitri naked—he very wanted to see Dmitri naked—but he didn’t know what it was supposed to mean, at the moment, and that was the only reason he was uncomfortable.

He realised he hadn’t seen Cthulhu last night, and reached out. Hey, you good?

That distracted Aix enough to relax, and he chuckled. ‘You have a co-pilot,’ he said, and hesitated. Dmitri had mentioned, when Aix had asked about his name, that ‘Dmitri’ was a name he’d had to take because his had become a female name over the years.

Dmitri sat down beside Victoria with a paper cup of coffee, dressed in a black silk robe. Though he went to bed with braided hair, Dmitri’s hair was still messy.

‘Morning is when you wake up. It’s… 8pm in the morning.’ Aix sipping his coffee, not looking up. ‘I will die on this hill,’ he said, deadpan.

‘Joe,’ Aix said, Cthulhu having decided he very much liked going by Joe, after Aix had fully explained all the layers of meaning.

Aix could meet Dmitri’s piercing eyes this time, because it was for a bit. ‘My man,’ he said, raising his brows, ‘He’s got no bones.’

Victoria snorted in a very ladylike way—Aix had read once a description of his favourite fictional high-society lady, that she ‘snorted like a purebred horse’, and he supposed that’s what it would sound like.

‘You’ve gotten wittier,’ Dmitri said, cradling his coffee in both hands. ‘I like it.’

‘Thanks,’ Aix said automatically, though he wasn’t sure if that was a compliment or if he should… fuck it, it was too early for anxiety, he thought, sipping his coffee. ‘Can I… call you your name? Or is that a wife thing?’

Dmitri didn’t answer for a few moments, sipping his coffee. ‘…Aix,’ he said, quietly. ‘Are you aware I want to fuck you?’

Aix went very still, and Dmitri could hear his pulse speed up. ‘I am now,’ he said. ‘I have been for… a while.’ He paused, halting, and saw Victoria put her hand on Dmitri’s arm, stopping him from interrupting. Aix was grateful—he paused for longer than normal when going off-script, it took longer to put words together when he had to assemble them from scratch. ‘I don’t know how to be subtle, or when is a right time to say anything, and… frankly, I don’t know why everyone keeps saying I’m so attractive and special. It’s… weird. It’s weird and I know that’s because I’ve been heinously abused and bullied to the point where if people aren’t doing that I get nervous like… when are they gonna start, you know? But…’ Aix sighed, hating this. ‘I don’t know the first thing about even passively accepting it, let alone moving past that. I want to. But… I don’t. I don’t know what this is supposed to look like. I’ve never seen it before.’

‘And nobody gives you the space or time to think on it,’ Dmitri said softly. ‘Or talk about it.’

‘Yeah,’ Aix said. ‘Thanks for listening,’ he said. ‘Um, what did you want me to do with that information?’

‘Well,’ Dmitri said, ‘hopefully, start negotiating with me more directly. I enjoy your sexual rhetoric, but you’re very… skittish.’

‘Lord knows you’ve the right. I remember being there,’ Dmitri said, softly.

Aix thought for some moments—or rather, took the time to try very hard to… what, exactly? Why was saying ‘yes’ always so hard?

This was that whole ‘being vulnerable is extremely hard’ thing, wasn’t it? This was that other side of ‘no boundaries’, this was ‘too much boundaries’. Shit. Fuck.

‘I haven’t had sex with anyone yet, and… I don’t… I don’t know how anymore. I’ve never stopped before, I don’t…’ Aix took off his glasses to put his face in his hands. ‘I don’t know how to start again, not now that I… that…’

Aix felt Pippin climb up beside him, and moved so she could crawl into his lap. The kitten followed, learning from her when to come see Aix.

‘Now that I know I was raped,’ Aix said, pushing the word out through the fear of censure. Saying it felt more forbidden than saying any swear word he’d ever learned.

Pippin hugged him, and Aix started crying, and soon someone was holding him, and from the softness and the scent, it was Victoria, slid around the curve of the booth to hold him. A moment later, on the other side, Dmitri joined her.

Pippin knew what that word meant, knew all too well. She knew it was a thing Duckie needed to cry about, and that was a pierrot’s special magic. We purr on Mommy make him better okay?

‘Prrp?’ the kitten said, purring as loudly as he could, kneading his oversized paws on his human mommy’s chest. Aix pet him, and kissed his face, and it was enough.

‘Oh, la,’ René’s voice was soft, and he sat across the little table, gently closing the laptop, reaching across to touch Aix’s hair, murmuring soft comforts in French. Aix reached a hand out eventually, and René held it, kissed it.

Aix sniffled, accepting a handkerchief from somebody and impatiently clearing his face enough that he felt like he could lean on Dmitri, hug him. ‘You should go fly the plane,’ he said, in a watery voice. Dmitri sighed, and kissed his temple.

‘I will return, and hear my name in your voice,’ he said, and then he was gone, and René was there instead. Aix was feeling almost done crying, and the kitten was making sure he didn’t hunch over, and Pippin and kitten were a comforting warm weight on his lap and on his chest.

‘You’re pulling glass out of an enormous old wound, chou-chou, it is bound to be messy. But as long as you keep pulling it out you’re not fucking anything up.’

‘Any vampire understands what it is to deal with something like that, darling, don’t fret.’

‘I’m not immortal,’ Aix said, not wanting to finish the thought—that he felt the clock ticking loudly, with every passing year after he’d found out he had a degenerative disease.

‘Yet,’ Scarpa’s voice came from where he’d just gotten out of the box bed. When Aix looked up, startled out of crying, Scarpa gave an intensely complicated wink at him that made Aix give a watery laugh.

‘Sure ya can; may as well take advantage of the Council meeting to do that. And petition who ya want.’

‘I suggest Maestro Phrixus,’ Victoria said. ‘He’s Neapolitan and a singer, it would suit you.’

‘Ye!’ Pippin said. ‘Duckie ae dottie maera dottie,’ she said, earnestly, to Scarpa, her little hands on the tabletop, eyes intense. Scarpa looked at her long moments, and smiled.

‘She’s mentioned she used to live with opera singers, and they taught her to sing,’ Aix said.

‘She just said you’re a singer, but you sing sad songs, have a low voice. Merlo, she says. Blackbird.’

‘Accurate,’ Aix said, hugging Pippin where he wasn’t cuddling the kitten, because he didn’t know what else to say. ‘Pippin likes sad country songs, and I know how to do that, so I sang to her a lot.’

‘It’s what they decided on, since bird metaphors were ruined by their old master.’

Pippin startled, and only Aix felt it—she was puzzling over that, something about it was making her wonder something, a big Maybe that, if true, would change a lot.

‘What’s goin’ on, sweetpea, what is it?’ Aix asked softly, watching her little tail swish back and forth, her Mask sliding back to the little ‘default’ it always returned to when she wasn’t purposely making it anything, making her look a bit sad no matter what, her Flash returning to a soft blue.

Pippin didn’t answer, though, yawning big enough to stick out her little tongue, and climbed over onto Victoria. ‘Hat.’

‘Mala Mala!’ Pippin said, half-climbing and half-leaping across the cabin to Michaela, who was still sleeping—she had a talent for falling asleep, deeply, whenever there was opportunity. ‘Brfs! Mala!’

The kitten squirmed and tried to follow, but Aix caught him before he put a paw on the table. ‘Bupbupbup!’ he said, firmly, redirecting the kitten down. ‘Not on the table. Table not for babies.’

The kitten followed Pippin’s exact path, and paused, waiting for Aix’s response. He did that, now, because of Pippin. ‘Thank you, good boy,’ Aix said, in a gentler tone, and the kitten continued, joining Pippin with far less understanding of how heavy his little feet would feel on Michaela, or any respect for not walking directly on top of her.

‘Okay, okay, I’m up,’ Michaela chuckled muzzily, a hand reaching up to pet them both.

They had, apparently, had a layover in Switzerland while everyone had been asleep, so that they arrived in Bucharest during the dark hours. It also meant everyone had slept a lot longer, which explained by Aix felt strangely well-rested. That he’d slept through a landing and a takeoff was a little weird, but then again, he was still working on years of sleep debt, had only been sleeping in comfortable beds for less than a month.

Their luggage was sent ahead, though almost everyone had a carry-on or backpack they kept with them. Even Pippin, who had picked out a little tiny one of her own, that was blue and glittery. Aix had his garish neon tropical backpack, that some of the dwarves had skilfully attached to a rolling frame, and they all spent the next hour or so on the train to Bucharest proper, chatting, and Aix liked that everyone wordlessly kept Aix and Victoria surrounded by friendly protectors at all times.

‘What are you going to name him?’ Victoria asked, as she worked on her hat.

‘I don’t know yet, I’ve been trying names,’ Aix said. ‘I started looking into the Ars Goetia just because of my favourite show and all…’ he trailed off. ‘But I can’t decide on one.’

‘You just keep doing the Mom Speak version of talking about it,’ Cameron said. He was still a little pale (and nursing a sugary sport drink) from feeding all the vampires, but he was bouncing back.

‘Oh,’ Aix said, and chuckled at himself. ‘I’m used to having to talk around it, it’s divisive in my usual social spaces and all.’

‘Oh now there’s a thought,’ Aix said, contemplatively looking at the carrier, which now had a label with official Romanian information about how the kitten and clown within were properly vaccinated¹ and healthy and approved to come into Romania. ‘All Seventy-Two Demons In The Ars Goetia,’ he said, experimentally.

‘Yii!’ the kitten answered, knowing Mommy was speaking to him, having to yell to be heard over the noise.

① Not that clowns needed vaccinations; one of the curious things about them was that they never got sick, which is what led them to have a reputation both as demons and angelic beings, and gave them their association with doctors, particularly plague doctors.

Chapter 31

Chasing the Dawn

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