The Past to Haunt You
Regis steadies himself with one hand on the rough stone wall. Transforming back into his body after racing across the fields and vineyards of Toussaint as a wisp of mist, his mind needs a moment to catch up.
Even before he's fully corporeal, the scent of katakans and fleders and the echoing noise of their squabbling floods his senses. Hunkering down, he gives himself some time to find his bearings, to listen and to map out the place. Underneath the smells of lesser vampires and their prey are traces of another, a higher vampire who has made his home here. And there's Geralt. His scent is achingly familiar to Regis, and even from what little he can detect, it's clear Geralt is hurt. Frightened, too.
Rage curls in Regis' veins, demanding he rush in and tear apart every single living thing in the abandoned ruin. But that is not an option, even if he were confident he could win the fight. He has no desire to risk Geralt's life this way, and he doesn't relish the thought of turning every single higher vampire against himself either. They would not understand him taking such a step, not over the life of a mere mortal who will be dead in another century or two anyway.
So he straightens his clothes, takes a deep breath in an effort to settle his squirming stomach and then jumps down from the windowsill where he is crouched. He lands in what used to be the main hall, still furnished with long tables and benches, tattered banners hiding the decaying walls.
As he walks towards the high seat on a dais at the other end of the hall, the chittering and hissing of the vampires falls silent until the only thing to be heard are Regis' footfalls.
He stops at a respectful distance and only allows himself the merest glance at Geralt. On his knees, clothes tattered and stained, wrists shackled by demiritium and his skin so pale it seems translucent, Geralt meets his eyes with the expressionless mask of a witcher on the Path.
A splash of vertigo threatens to make Regis' knees buckle, and he looks away from Geralt to focus on the man sprawled on the massive chair. He's idly playing with Geralt's hair, sharp claws carding through white strands.
"Esiko. Last I heard, you had left to seek your fortune beyond the Sea. What is it that brings you back here, and in such a manner?" Regis refuses to be baited by the abuse of his lover, and the unspoken threat. He knows the answer to his questions, but he will not be the one to go on the offensive here.
"The lands beyond the Sea are not all people say they are. And when I heard you had found happiness, I had to come and see for myself." Esiko rests his hand on the back of Geralt's neck, his nails digging into the skin. A trickle of blood runs down Geralt's collarbone and the fleders and katakans shift and chitter before falling silent once more. "I know how fleeting happiness can be. I'm sure you remember."
"I do. I also remember something you seem to have forgotten, if you ever knew. You cannot force happiness. What do you intend to achieve by this—demonstration? You cannot believe I would come back to you, even if I had not made it abundantly clear I never wished to see you again the last time we met." Forcing himself to keep his posture open, hands at his side and eyes on Esiko only, Regis does his best to ignore the scratch of fear at his thoughts. Esiko is just as imposing as he'd ever been, broad chest and powerful limbs, dark eyes and a smile that does nothing to hide his cruelty, now that Regis has learned to see it.
"Maybe I just wanted to see how attached you really are to this—creature. Found yourself a little monster to take care of, haven't you? You always were one for the strays, even back then."
"It seems we both haven't changed much in some regards. You always did love the sound of your own voice. I, however, do not. Not any more. So let us get to the point!" Regis cannot wait any longer. Talking will not solve this. He launches himself at Esiko, claws out and fangs bared.
The expression of surprise on Esiko's face lasts only for the fraction of a second. Long enough that Regis' claws already slice through his clothes and skin before he recovers. Geralt rolls himself out of the way, ever so slowly ever with his witcher reflexes. To a human, he would be fast. But vampires fight in the blink of an eye.
The chair falls over and they tumble, come apart and face each other on the dais. All the other vampires watch, cowering in the shadows. They will not risk the anger of either of them.
"You would attack one of your own? For this?" Esiko snarls, spittle dripping from his fangs as he flicks a dismissive claw at Geralt. He crouches, waiting for his moment.
"You're not one of my own. If you ever were." Bones settling into the shape of a giant bat, Regis stands tall. For a moment. Sprinting forward, he lunges and grabs Esiko, slamming his head to the floor. There's a crack and then he holds nothing but mist. It swirls around him and then it's gone.
"Slow. You always were slow, and your refusal to feed makes you weak." This time it's Regis who isn't ready. Esiko's weight throws him off his feet. He slides across the floor, crashing into the wall. It leaves him dazed, darkness crowding his vision.
Regis pushes himself up on all fours, his arms shaking wildly at supporting his weight. A hand pulls him up by his neck, slams him into the wall. Clawing at Esiko's arm and face, Regis struggles to free himself, knowing he won't make it.
Geralt comes out of nowhere, pouncing on Esiko. He gets swatted aside like an annoying bug, going sprawling on the floor. Regis wants to shout at him to run, to keep out of it. Fangs tearing at his throat silence him. His breath is punched out of him, the vertigo coming back with a vengeance. Esiko's claws are the only thing holding him upright. Everything goes dark and silent.
"Regis! Wake the fuck up!"
Regis does, if only to stop the shaking that is rattling his teeth and jostling his brain. Geralt swims into view, looking deadly pale and frantic with fear. The fear at least withdraws behind the mask once Regis puts a hand on Geralt's. He sits, tries to stand and regrets it immediately.
Esiko is a bundle on the floor, surrounded by a stinking puddle of liquid, an iridescent shimmer on the black surface. He's moving but it's only twitches and quivers.
Fumbling with the pouch on his belt, Regis find the metal flask he has hidden there and swallows the contents. It tastes vile, but the dizziness and nausea almost immediately recede. Even weak as he is, he feels much more himself.
"I am so sorry." He turns to Geralt, pulling him close for a brief hug. Over Geralt's shoulder, he stares at a katakan who has gathered the courage to crawl closer. It immediately retreats, and they all melt into the shadows. It's not worth it for them to become involved in this mess.
"What did you do to him? Did you take Black Blood? You smell—different." Geralt helps Regis stand, or maybe it's the other way around. Neither of them is too sure on their feet. But Regis takes it as a good sign that Geralt's curiosity is back already.
"I did, but I made some improvements. The effects were unpleasant, but not nearly as devastating as drinking my blood once I had digested it." Testing his balance, Regis finds he can walk. "Please give me a moment, then we can get rid of these chains and go."
He hunkers down next to Esiko who can only stare at him, his body wrecked by the effects of the potion. There's fear in his eyes, and at another time, Regis might have found that gratifying. Right now, he simply is too tired.
"You will keep away from me, and from my friends. If I ever see you again, we will discuss this matter with the Elder. They might not understand me taking a witcher as my lover, but they will understand that it was you who tried to kill me. To drink me dry, no less. And we both know that they will not approve of it. So go back to where you came from, or whereever else you please. I do not care as long as I will not see you again." Regis doesn't wait for an answer he isn't going to get anyway. He turns and walks over to Geralt who has found the key to his shackles, tossing them into a corner.
"I am sure you have questions, but if it's the same to you, I would like to answer them somewhere else." The place makes Regis' skin crawl. It is empty but for them and Esiko, but he wants to put as much distance between it and them as they can anyway.
"I don't know where we are." Geralt's voice and composure take a small wobble, and Regis wants nothing more than a portal to take them right back to Corvo.
"A day's travel from home, I am sorry to say. But there is a village not far, and it has an inn."
"Then let's go."
Regis charms the innkeep into giving them the only room to themselves while Geralt hangs back, watching Regis smile and chat and be pleasant. Plenty of coin does the rest of the convincing, and ensures that they won't be disturbed. It's cannot be too much, otherwise the man will be suspicious, but Geralt thinks Regis has judged it right. At least the innkeep neither looks too taken aback at or comments on Geralt's disheveled state. He serves them two bowls of the thin stew, a pitcher of small beer and wishes them a good night.
Geralt wolfs down the contents of his bowl, and Regis slides the second one across the table. He looks queasy still, sweat shining on his skin. It has Geralt worried, but there's nothing much he can do about it.
"You should eat something." Geralt raises one eyebrow at Regis. It's met with a shake of the head and Geralt finally takes the bowl when Regis nudges it even closer.
"I am fine, don't worry about me. I'd rather wait until the Black Blood has lost its potency. I don't relish the thought of throwing up in addition to all the other unpleasantness of this night." Regis sits back in his chair as if the mere smell of the stew is too much for him.
Spooning up the meagre chunks of soggy vegetables and tiny shreds of meat, Geralt is angry at himself. It's his fault. Esiko snatched him like an owl grabs a careless mouse. Retirement isn't doing Geralt any favours, that's for sure. Yes, even a witcher cannot hope to match a higher vampire, but the way Geralt hadn't even seen it coming is shameful. This wouldn't have happened to him back when he was still on the Path, training and fighting every day. He's gone soft, and it almost cost Regis his life.
"It's not your fault."
"What?" Geralt snaps out of his brooding thoughts, thinking for a moment that Regis read them. But he can't, and if Geralt's honest with himself, it's probably not necessary to be a mindreader right now. Not for Regis, who's been Geralt's lover for years and his friend for even longer.
"Stop blaming yourself. If anyone is at fault, it's me. I should have told you about Esiko, no matter that I believed him to be an ocean away." Regis gets up and walks to the window, turning his back on Geralt. "The fact of the matter is that it is not a tale I am fond of telling. I am ashamed of it."
Geralt wants nothing more than to sleep for a whole day. He's exhausted, simply from not showing any reaction to Esiko no matter what was said or done, and from losing quite a lot of blood to him. But Regis' distress is so clear that it shoulders any other concerns aside.
"I don't think it would have changed anything. I don't know what happened between you two, and you don't need to tell me. But I know that even if you had told me, he still would have been able to grab me. Not like we had any warning." Abandoning the thought of sleep, Geralt walks over to Regis and hugs him from behind. The Black Blood stings in his nose, a sharper smell than he's used to. Whatever Regis put into it, it's lingering. He knows it won't kill Regis but he worries anyway - Regis had had to have thrown this together in a hurry, there's no telling what the side effects might be.
"I was young, back then. And he brought out the worst in me. It took me so long to realise it. Even longer to gather the courage to walk away from him. He didn't take it well, but I would never have thought—" Regis leans back into Geralt, one hand over his. "I did not think he would return. I am sorry you were caught up in this."
"Everyone does stupid shit when they're young. Even higher vampires. You did walk away, that's the important thing. Everything else is his fault, you didn't choose this." Pressing his face to the side of Regis' neck, Geralt squeezes him in his arms. "I'm sorry I let myself get caught. It was so easy for him."
"He is a higher vampire, after all—" Regis' knees buckle. Geralt is suddenly holding his full weight. He shifts his grip, lowering himself and Regis to the floor. Under his arm, Regis' heart gallops along, the fastest Geralt has ever felt it.
Regis weakly stirs, a shiver turning into a shudder. Geralt holds him tighter, his own heart chasing after Regis'. After long moments, Regis stills in his arms, one hand coming up to pet Geralt reassuringly.
"I think I better lie down."
"Regis—" Geralt wants to ask if he should go get someone. If there's something he can do. Ridiculous and unnecessary questions. What would a human do, or even a witcher? "Will you be alright? Don't lie to me, please."
"I will. I may have overdone it a little, but I had to be sure it would poison Esiko. Tomorrow, I will feel better, I promise." Regis tries to sit up but slumps against Geralt who picks him up and walks over to the bed, laying him down and pulling off his boots.
"You better keep that promise." Geralt frowns at Regis, hiding away his fear. He kneels in front of the bed, ready to meditate and keep watch for what's left of the night, but Regis takes his hand and tugs on it.
"Come join me, please?" He's still shivering, huddling under the blankets, his skin waxen in the moonlight. Geralt has never seen him like this, and he has no wish to see him like this ever again.
Once he's curled up around Regis, the shivers slowly subside. Regis turns over, wrapping his arms around Geralt and holding on as if he's afraid someone is going to steal Geralt away. Again. And Geralt holds him right back, unwilling to let sleep come for him for fear of waking up to Regis gone.
He lies awake long after Regis has fallen asleep, listening to every noise and seeing shapes in every shadow.