8

Varick’s hair had finally finished drying before the fireplace. He brushed it back, keeping wavy strands out of his eyes, and rose from an upholstered chair.

Where had Rosenrot gone off to? For some reason sitting alone in a room made him feel bored. He used to be perfectly fine by himself, studying through books about woodlands and weather and astronomy. But now he just couldn’t sit still.

He peeked inside the drawing room—Rosenrot wasn’t there.

He wandered down the hallway of living quarters and peeked into another room—Rosenrot wasn’t in her room, either.

Blast it, where was the girl?

His ears caught a rubbing noise, a circular motion, coming from up ahead. He stepped quietly toward the opposite end of the hallway, past a rail and curving staircase. The door to his parents’ quarters was open and sunlight spilled onto the floor. He hesitated, then peeked inside.

The drapes had been thrust aside, and there Rosenrot stood, scrubbing away at the windows with her single hand.

His first instinct was to shout that she stop—he never allowed anyone in this room, let alone things in it be touched. But she was working diligently, and already had one window sparkling clean, bringing life into the lifeless space. Mother would never have let the place get so dusty. She always liked the sunlight sparkling through.

The green lacey dress Rosenrot wore had once been his mother’s, when she was young. It fit her beautifully, and the stump that was her elbow didn’t look as scary as the day when they first met. Actually, it looked rather pretty, sculpted, as if the Maker had wanted to try something different.

The girl must have spotted his reflection; she turned around and dipped her head. “I thought you might like to see this room the way it used to be, cleaned and lived in. If you want to preserve their memory, you can’t let moths and whatnot eat away at it.”

Varick blinked at her, then lowered his gaze. Her eyes were a chestnut shade, like the rich soil of a forest. Why hadn’t he noticed that before?

“Ah…yes,” he said. “But it’s not like I asked you to do this. If you’re bored, I can find other things—”

“Bored?” She frowned over her shoulder. “If I needed to cure boredom, I can think of a hundred better things to do! I’m just tidying up this room because it’s special to you, and it’ll decay if no one else does.”

Something inside Varick’s chest twitched in pain. He resisted the urge to cover it with a hand. Why would she do this?

“I don’t understand,” he finally said. “I haven’t done anything for you, except purchase your labor. Why should you care about what’s special to someone else?”

Rosenrot looked at him, tilting her head as if he were a puzzle. “You really have grown up isolated,” she said. “Hasn’t anyone ever done something for you simply because they care about you? Surely Licht and Mrs. Moos have.”

Varick jerked his head to the side. “They’re servants. They don’t do anything because they care.”

The girl’s lips pursed in thought. “Or maybe you just don’t pay attention well enough. I can tell they care about you.”

Varick shrugged uncomfortably. “How would you know? Has anyone ever cared about you?”

Rosenrot stopped her work, dropping the rag into a bucket and carrying it out the door past him.

He realized it was the wrong thing to say after he’d say it.

She marched stiffly down the hallway, and he followed after.

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean it quite like that,” he tried to say. But what was the right thing to say? What was he supposed to do? Ah, this was why he didn’t want to be around people! They were too complicated to figure out. One wrong word, or a certain tone of voice, could ruin everything.

Rosenrot whirled around on him, and he lurched to a halt not to bump into her. “For your information, no. No one has ever cared about me. Not even my only family member, who ran away leaving me with all his debt to pay off. But I’ve seen other families, and friends, and the way they support one another, and celebrate the holidays together. I know what it should be like to have someone to care for, and who in turn cares for me…even if I’ll never have that, myself.” A wetness glittered in her soft chestnut eyes, and he realized it must be tears.

Varick hung his head and wrung his hands together. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I’m not very good at communicating with others.”

Rosenrot sniffled.

“I’ve just never had anyone do something nice for me, unless I ordered them to,” he confessed.

She shook her head. “I can’t even begin to imagine ordering people around.” She sighed. “But I guess if no one’s ever taught you how to behave, how are you supposed to know anything? Fine, how about I become your very first friend, then? I’ll try and teach you how to behave proper.”

She dropped the bucket and held out her hand. Varick stared at it, then tentatively clasped his hand with hers. Her skin felt warm. A tingly sensation ran through him, the comfort of touching someone, and then that sharp twinge of pain in his chest came again.

Her cheeks blushed slightly, and he wondered if his face was doing the same.

“I have a human friend. I never would have imagined that happening,” he half-laughed quietly.

“Nor I imagine ending up in a creepy castle with a vamp—erm, vempar friend,” she said.

Varick smirked.

A loud clang echoed up from the first floor.

“Master…Varick!” called an elderly voice. Butler Sterbetod hobbled and wobbled halfway up the staircase as they came around the bend. “Oh, there…you are. The…Lord Kalt is…here to see you,” he said in between wheezes.

“Lord Kalt?” Rosenrot looked as if she’d been struck by lightning.

Varick wondered at her odd reaction. “Yes, he visits once a month or so.”

“But why?” She shuddered as if chilled.

“He brings me life-energy supplies—I wouldn’t survive without them.” Varick trotted down the stairs without waiting.

***

Butler Sterbetod opened the front doors, wrist joints cracking, and Lord Kalt entered. He was followed by a strange, tall servant pushing a cart full of boxes.

“Lord Kalt, welcome.” Varick greeted. Rosen hung back near the staircase, half hidden. The man’s dark beard came down to such a sharp point, it was a wonder it didn’t cut anything.

Kalt took off his slick gloves and gray wool coat, tossing them to Sterbetod, who nearly toppled over catching it all.

“How are things in the town?”

“Much the same. Full of people complaining about one thing or another,” replied Kalt. The crescent moons embroidered on his robes shimmered in the entry’s lamplight. “Anything new to report up here in the mountains?”

“No, it’s as quiet as ever,” said Varick.

The tall servant wheeled the cart off to the side, his skin slick porcelain. Rosen moved to better hide, and her elbow bumped a vase behind her. She whipped around and caught it, but the noise had still alerted her presence.

“Who is that?” Kalt demanded, his gaze hard as stone on Rosen, as she straightened and curtsied.

“A hired servant,” Varick said nonchalantly. “The castle needed more cleaning.”

Kalt’s gaze on her lingered, suspicious. “You could have told me, and I would have lent you workers,” his tone almost berated. “You didn’t have to force yourself to hire a human.”

Varick waved the matter away with a hand. “It’s fine. But I’m glad you came today—my supplies were running low.”

He led the way, and he and Lord Kalt vanished into a side hall and through into one of the parlor rooms, the fireplace inside already lit and wafting heat.

Rosen edged past the strange porcelain-like servant and stopped beside the open door to listen. The emotionless servant merely glanced her way.

“Lord Kalt, I’m eternally grateful for all that you’ve done for me,” Varick was saying, “But I am curious, what do you use my blood for?”

Rosen risked a peek inside the room. Varick sat on a chair opposite Kalt, a needle in the vein of his arm drawing blood through a string of tubing and flowing into a metallic cylinder.

“Haven’t I told you?” Kalt said, a touch impatient, like a master to a young pupil. “Vempar blood contains extraordinary healing capabilities. I donate to shelters for the Altered, to those suffering from human-inflicted injuries or illness. It is a noble cause.”

Rosen’s instincts flared, detecting a lie.

Varick nodded, believing his word. “Perhaps I should visit the shelters, or have some of them move to the castle—there’s plenty of room here.”

“No, it would only frighten them,” Kalt said firmly. “Humans are not the only ones who fear vempars; even many Altered do.”

Varick closed his mouth and looked down at the floor.

Rosen wondered what he was really doing with the vempar blood.

The cylinder clicked, and Kalt removed the needle and pressed a button that wound up the tubing. “Don’t be troubled. You’re doing plenty of good by simply being here in this castle.”

They moved towards the door, and Rosen scurried into a different room, out of sight. “I will see you next month, Varick. Contact me if any…problems arise with your new servant.”

Rosen swallowed on the other side of the wall. Fee the pixit was there, floating around her curiously. She listened to the sounds as Varick escorted the lord outside. She waited until she was sure the man had gone before coming out.

“You have some sort of deal with Lord Kalt?” asked Rosen, once Varick came back indoors.

Varick hunched his shoulders defensively. “He saved my life once. I wouldn’t call it a deal, but me simply repaying my debt to him.”

“Isn’t he human?” she asked carefully.

His brow pinched. “No! Yes. I mean, he’s human but with strange powers. Like…like a mage, almost, though he said that wasn’t exactly the proper title. But either way, he’s nothing like the heartless humans in Freudendorf.”

He flinched after he said it, some of his defensive posture slumping. “I don’t mean you. Just…the others.”

Rosen inhaled, bracing herself. “But the town is falling apart under Kalt. There’s something cold and treacherous about him. Varick, you could restore the town, couldn’t you? You could reopen the salt mines in these mountains. People are too afraid to come near your castle and the mines, now, but that would change if you invited them up here and showed them there’s nothing to be afraid of.”

“I don’t want humans around here, and I don’t care about the town. You…don’t understand.” Varick assumed an even heavier defensive posture, chin high.

“Help me understand.” Rosen drew near and touched his arm. He seemed surprised by the gesture. “What did the town do to you?”

His mouth opened and closed repeatedly. Then he gently brushed her hand off and headed for the staircase. “Ask Licht. Let him tell you the story,” he said, unable to look back at her.