Vampires were always dangerous, especially after feeding. The lifeblood pumped through their veins, skin temporarily warmed from borrowed energy. It was only natural for them to want more. Even ones as sick and sweet-looking as Nathaniel could be roused into a feeding frenzy, just like the sharks on TV. Extra precautions were needed.

"Ah, come on, do I have to wear this?" Quintus tugged at the leather collar buckled around his neck. A chain led from the collar to a hook in the wall, loose enough for Quintus to sit easily, but taught enough to keep him from lunging forward.

"If you want me to help you, yes." Joan retrieved another collar and fit it to Nathaniel's neck. She raised her eyebrows at the strange scar wrapping around his neck, a perfect ring of burnt tissue that nearly matched the collar she placed over it. 

"Strange mark…did you have this before you were turned?" She adjusted the collar, making sure it wasn't too tight. 

"No, it's a—I used to wear um-a thing around my neck. But then it caught fire.…"

His leg jiggled nervously up and down. 

Joan was no fool. The scar, the awkward posture. The wool-knit sweater. 

"You're a priest?" 

"Well. Not anymore, obviously. No thanks to you." Nathaniel sneered at Quintus, bitterly. 

"Quint, you turned a priest? Kinky." She smiled slyly at Quintus, who fidgeted irritably in his seat. Nathaniel blushed, looking scandalized. 

"Oh shut up Joanie. It was an accident!" 

"Don't get so defensive Quint. I'm just teasing. Whoever you sink your little fangs into is none of my business." She opened up a small box of rings and jewelry, pulling out a strange clamp from a velveteen bag. It looked like a brass ring sawed in half, a crescent of metal. 

"Now then. When did the sneezing start?" 

She asked them both with all the authority of a well-paid doctor. The pair of vampires looked at each other, pure irritation in their eyes. Unhappy to be in each other's company. 

"While I was feeding off him," Quintus growled. 

"I think he'd have killed 'bme if it wasn't for that." Nathaniel's voice was muffled, and he sniffed back a drip of mess threatening to dribble. 

"And you were sick when he bit you?"

"Yes." 

Joan nodded and moved towards Quintus with the metal clamp. He flinched and pulled away, eyeing the object like a cornered animal. 

"What're you doing with that?"

"It's a wolf-ring, Quint." Joan sighed, exasperated. 

"I know what it is. Why are you putting that shit on me? I'm no werewolf!" 

"No, but you're both sneezing like one. I need to see how strong this link is, and I won't be able to test it if you can't stop yourself from going off every time he does." Joan placed a hand on the back of his head just as he tried to lean away from the clamp. She quickly pushed the clamp over the middle of his nose. Turning a small key on the side of the clamp, the object fastened snugly, pinching both sides. His nostrils flared indignantly, and he shook his head, annoyed at the object. Nathaniel watched, concerned despite his apparent distaste for his unusual companion. 

"Snff—are vampires not supposed to sneeze?" Nathaniel coughed lightly, and Quintus echoed the reaction. 

"I've never seen it happen before, myself, but it doesn't mean you can't. Vampires are creatures of shadow. Your dark gift heightens your senses, for better or for worse. I suppose if something is tickling enough, it could get you going." She turned back to the box and removed a crow's feather. It was long and frayed, soft at the base.

"But usually vampires are so in control of their senses. Unlike a Werewolf who's driven entirely by them. They're all appetite and reaction. Constantly slobbering and sneezing all over the damn place. Shed like crazy too." 

She held Nathaniel's chin, tsk'ing at the state of his nose. It was flushed raw, the soft end chapped around the nostrils, full of a cold that refused to go away. Testing, she fluffed the feather against them. The right nostril seemed to feel it the most, it ticked open from the touch. But he jerked away, hissing in pain. 

"Shit, too much?" Joan let his chin go, wincing at the way he cringed and wormed his nose around. 

"Yes, it just-snff—it hurts a lot. Can'd s'mbell or feel anything." 

Joan noticed Quint winced too, and not just from the uncomfortable clamp on his nose. He felt Nathaniel's pain. 

"Mm. Can you feel this?" Without warning, she gave Nathaniel a quick pinch on the arm. 

"Ow!! Yes!—" 

"Damn!—stop!!" 

Both vampires jumped at the pain, snarling in unison. 

"Interesting." Joan knew Nathaniel's poor nose was too worn down to feel anything, he'd gone sick and hungry for far too long. It'd be months of steady feeding to recover his dulled senses. What a waste. He had all the makings of a particularly strong vampire, if only he hadn't been turned when he had such a nasty cold. 

But she still needed him to sneeze. 

"This is going to be a little weird, but I need you to open your mouth." 

"Ma'am. This'll be the least weird—snfff—thing'd that's happened to me." Nate sighed, defeated. He opened his jaw as casually as a dentist visit. Face crestfallen. 

"I only ever did this with werewolves, but maybe it'll work on you." 

"You've been around a few wolfies recently, haven't you?" Quintus smirked. 

"Wouldn't you like to know?" 

She rolled her eyes and picked up the crow's feather once more, holding it quill-first as if she was preparing to write with it. Carefully, she tipped his head back and stuck the quill in his mouth, angling it in a way that the tip scratched against the roof of his mouth.  

It made him cough, and gag. Joan could hear Quintus was also bothered by the feather, he spat and cursed. She saw a sudden wave of aggression move through him, either as an unconscious form of self-defense or a spike of hunger still leftover from his meal. The bridge of his sloping nose wrinkled in a growl, and his eyes glowed milky white. A predatory focus came over him, and his body tensed. 

"Don't you dare bite me," Joan warned. She held his chin roughly, grasping his jaw tightly open as his teeth grew sharper, ready to tear. Somewhere inside his stuffy, congested chest, she heard a deep, animalistic growl. His gentle nature receded, he was readying to snap those piercing teeth together, to tear apart the invading quill and her fingers. 

And then, she found the spot. Those glowing eyes suddenly softened and watered. His jaw, tensing and ready to bite down, quivered instead. His chapped nostrils opened up, and she felt him inhale against her hand. His teeth, as sharp as they were, hovered over the skin of her fingers, unable to bite down. A perfect hunting machine, if not for a sneeze. 

Quintus could feel it. She heard him hitch, loud and exaggerated as Nathaniel's dangerous expression softened and crumbled. She kept stroking the quill gently against that tender spot of nerves on his palette. He tongued at her knuckles, reflexively trying to get at the tickle at the roof of his mouth. Just as he inhaled with another shaky breath, she quickly pulled her hand away. And not a moment too soon. 

"hHhh—HFF'SHIEww!!" 

Nathaniel sneezed wetly, barely missing Joan as she leaned away from the mess. He barely had time to recover when another spluttered after, irritated from the tickling of the quill. 

"Heh'FSHiEW!!!" 

And another, 

"Hief'SHHieww!!" 

But only Nathaniel sneezed. At his side, Quintus panted. His eyes hooded heavily, fluttering with every hitch and squeezing shut every time Nathaniel took in a big gulp of air. His toothy jaw opened and closed with every loud gasp. 

"HId-HIp—Hiehp—-"

But he couldn't follow through. The clamp around his nose seemed to stall the reflex, catching the sneeze in a pinch. Letting it burn and die out in his sinuses without escape. A tear trailed down his cheek from the effort. But he seemed relieved not to be pulled into Nathaniel's fit, despite being dangled on the edge of it. He smiled, despite himself.

"Hh—Hip—G-gesundheit…" Quintus sighed deeply after another failed hitch, eyes dopey and loose. 

"Th-thankye-EW'SHHH!!!" Nathaniel bent in half with that one. He looked mortified at the string of mess it led in its wake, and he quickly tried to snuff it up. 

"Damn, okay okay, that seemed to do the trick." Joan grabbed some tissues and cleaned up Nathaniel's nose and chin. "So you're clearly making Quint sneeze. And he can feel other things you feel, too, it seems." 

Joan set aside the used tissues and selected another feather from the box. 

"Let's see if this goes both ways." 

Quintus was still sniffling when she pinched him, a little harder than when she pinched Nathaniel. He yelped and snapped his teeth at her like an injured dog. Nathaniel didn't react at all, he sat sniffling in his collar, looking weary. 

Fascinating. 

"You didn't feel that?" Joan asked. 

Nathaniel shook his head. 

She took the feather and dandled the tip along Quintus's ear. He jerked his head away from the tickle, growling. 

"And that?" 

Nathaniel shook his head. 

Joan removed the clamp from Quintus's nose. He wiggled his nose from side to side, snarling angrily. 

"That stupid thing does work." He scrunched up his face, preparing for whatever Joan was about to do to him. "Annoying though." 

"You'd be surprised by how similar werewolves and vampires are. Now quiet. Nose up." 

He grumbled but lifted his chin up anyway. 

Unlike Nathaniel's, Quintus nose was not chapped or rubbed raw from tissues. Unlike Nathaniel, this was a truly strong vampire. Cunning and wild, a survivor of many seasons. She took the crow's feather and held it horizontally under his wide nostrils, letting the soft edges run slowly against their pronounced rims. 

He smirked. 

"Joanie. This can't make me sneeze. I never did before Nate." 

"Shut up Quint. Just breathe." 

She knew him more than most. She knew he was like a fuse, short and easy to ignite. In many ways. 

The feather dragged against the underside of his nose, over and over again. Slow, and maddeningly methodical. Presently, the soft motion of the feather began to tickle, and he blinked up at her in surprise. He squirmed his upper lip, trying to escape the constant caress of the feather. 

"Feel that?" Joan asked. Nathaniel was quiet. He stretched his own lip around, testing it.

"No? I don't?" He said, confused. 

"This is taking too long, I don't know wh—why—hh.." 

Joan extracted the first hitch from Quint. It was quiet, barely a sound at all. The first hitch he probably had on his own in over three hundred years. She supposed it wasn't that vampires couldn't sneeze. They just couldn't on their own. But with a feather constantly tickling under a highly attuned nose, the old human reflex was impossible to ignore. Stubbornly, he tried to keep his eyes open, though he looked rather silly doing so. They were loose, and crossed as the feather was dragged right under his flaring nose, and his jaw quivered open with a helpless—

"Aah.." 

Funny. Joan's mind went to the image of an old black-and-white cartoon. A big bad wolf chasing a mouse. Pearly teeth, evil in his eyes. The mouse tickles its nose with a feather, and the monster can't help but go Ah—Ah—Ah. Quintus was like that. He sneezed like he forgot how a human should. Dignity lost, a cartoonish desperation took the reins as his tongue curled back and his lips snarled up, revealing fangs. But not to bite, to hitch. His throat bobbed as he took another breath. 

"Ahhh—" 

She gave the feather one last drag against his lip, not even touching his pulsing nostrils. The evil in her couldn't stop herself. Smirking, she lightly tapped the tip of his nose, just as his eyes finally drooped close. 

"Choo." She whispered. 

"AHD-DCHOOOHH!!!" He practically barked the sneeze out, urgently itchy and desperate to be rid of.

Nathaniel was silent. Not even a sniffle. 

"Fascinating," Joan said, putting the crow's feather away.

Quintus's chest expanded for another sneeze, but she'd seen enough to know what was going on. She placed the clamp back on his nose just as he quivered for another release. 

"Ah-AHD—hyew—" The sneeze died as soon as the clamp pinched around his sinuses. It wobbled out as a sad, enunciated sigh. All of the itch, with none of the scratch.

"DAMN IT! Joan!! That was-snff-snff—godda'be a good one'd." He sniffled, nose still flaring with the failed sneeze. 

"Trust me, you're going to be sneezing a lot more from now on…" She lifted her index finger to his tickled lip and rubbed against it. "I think I know what's happening." 

"Can this be fixed? This link?" Nathaniel squirmed against his restraints. Joan took her time to untie them both, still wary. 

"No, this can't. And you don't have a link, well, not a two-way one." 

Quintus scrubbed at his nose as soon as his hands were free. 

"Nathaniel is your anchor." Joan pointed to the forlorn, excommunicated priest. "When you bit him, you made him an anchor. Whatever he feels, you feel." 

"..What? But…how" Quintus growled. 

Joan shrugged. 

"Look. The rules that guide us shadows are loose at best. It's not science, or the laws of nature. It's like, getting a shitty feeling when you walk into a store or deja vu. Like falling in love. These things just sort of happen." 

 Nathaniel and Quintus look up at each other with fear and indignation in their eyes at the suggestion of love. 

"If Nathaniel is hurt, or if he is killed, you will also be hurt or killed. But, on the other hand." She gave Nathaniel a fresh roll of tissues, his nose already dripping. "You live off of Quintus's energy, Nate. You should have starved a month ago without feeding. You're only alive because of him. You give him your pain, he gives you life."

They both sat and stared daggers at Joan. 

"…So you're telling me. This…sad-sack of a vampire sucks up my energy, and I take on his shitty cold and who knows what else? An anchor? Dragging me under?"  Quintus scowled at Nate, eyes glowing in rage. 

"And I have to rely on this monster to live at all?" Nathaniel's voice wobbled, angry and emotional all at once. "Forever?" 

Joan leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

"Yep." 

She could tell the pair of them wanted to rip her to pieces. She also knew destroying her mortal form would only be an inconvenience, and she could easily crush them both with her tentacles if they tried. And she knew that they knew. 

A stalemate between three entities. 

——————————-

"If you want, you can take the clamp. It should help you keep quiet while you hunt." 

Quintus and Nathaniel sulked on their way out of the house, like a pair of disobedient students given terrible grades. Nate, in particular, seemed to have fallen into a dismal pit of despair, dragging his feet against the gravel driveway. Quintus stayed behind for a bit, mood dark and cloudy. 

"..guess its better than nothing.." Quintus took the clamp and put it in his pocket, dejected. "I look so stupid wearing it." 

"It's that or scaring off prey with a sneeze, right?" 

He sighed and accepted defeat, but she wouldn't let him go on his dreary way without a final jab. 

"To be honest, Quint. You couldn't have picked a nicer guy to be your anchor. He really does seem sweet." 

"Shut up, Joanie." 

"And cute. In an acquired taste sort of way. Kind of like you? I guess ugly ducks of a feather stick together." 

She snorted and gave Quintus a quick kiss on the cheek. He huffed and fidgeted, bashful from the attention. Down the road, she could see Nathaniel unfurling his tissues, head tilted back. 

"Oh, bless you, by the way." 

Both Quintus and Nathaniel sneezed simultaneously.

Nathaniel was so sick he could cry. In fact, he'd been crying all morning while Quintus was away. Or that evening, rather. He still wasn't used to his new nocturnal schedule. 

The most recent place of habitation was a giant furniture store. It was a bit of a challenge to be let in initially, the salesperson was confused as to why a pair of suspicious-looking customers needed permission to enter a store. According to Quintus, places like this were not great to stay for long. It was by the goodwill of a manager who knew of Quintus's nature that they could stay for a week. But one week only. And no feeding on company property. 

"Hhheh—" 

Languishing on the showroom couch, Nathaniel grabbed for another swath of tissues and cringed with a tired "-Eh'ishhhieew!!" 

He could hear Quintus sneeze somewhere in the distance. It echoed loudly through the furniture store. 

"Sorry!" Nathaniel called out weakly and blew his nose. Every night, he felt weaker, more foggy, and unfocused. It was just two nights ago when it became intolerable to walk. The hunger didn't make things easier. If he could even call it that. He grew up poor and hungry, but he still never knew how empty someone could feel. It was like life itself was slowly dripping out of him. 

Life wasn't the only thing dripping out of him. He gave his nose another blow, wincing at the squelching noise he made. The cold, if he could even call it that by this point, had only grown worse. 

"—You know, if you just ate something, maybe you'd feel a little better,"  Quintus growled. He seemed to dissolve out of the darkness as he approached, red eyes glimmering. 

Nathaniel sighed. They've been over this argument before. Quintus sat on a nearby recliner, kicking up his feet on a glass coffee table. They sat in bitter silence for a while, with only a sniffle between them. The artificial hum of the furniture store droned, and the small light of the security camera flicked on and off, capturing nothing. No vampiric intruders detected. 

Nathaniel was nearly ready to swoon from the pure exhaustion of breathing when Quintus spoke up. 

"What if… someone let you feed off of 'em? Would that make it better?" 

"What do you mean'd?" Nathaniel coughed roughly into his fist. It was getting harder to breathe, day by day, and not just due to congestion.

"If someone offered themselves to you, like if there was someone out there who was totally fine with you taking a bite out of 'em like a sandwich. Would you eat then?" 

"—I hardly think there's anyone like that." 

"Oh, there is. She's uh- kind of pissed at me right now, but there is." 

"Who in their right mind would want a vampire to feast on them?" 

——————————-

The horsefly that'd been haunting the Slaughtered Goat all day rested on the antique table, rubbing its legs together. It was made to move when it finally met its demise by way of a well-timed slap of a rolled-up magazine. 

"Gotcha, you little bastard." 

A fat ginger cat stretched out languidly on the bookshelf, chirping at the sound of his owner. 

"Don't worry, Buddy, that fly's all gone." 

Joan turned up the sound on the dilapidated TV that hung precariously in the corner of the storeroom. The would-be customers up front were getting loud and interrupting the shark documentary she'd been engrossed in for the last half-hour. A gaggle of teenagers waxed on importantly over pre-packaged jars of crystals, self-serious experts on all things magic. 

All things bullshit, actually. The front of the store was for tourists. Bottles of potions that consisted of glitter and colored water. Resin skulls, bright red candles crafted by Joan's sweet elderly neighbor. Whatever looked mystical enough to make a customer pay up. Whatever kept Joan's family home from being bulldozed into a parking lot. 

She was lucky she still had the house, as annoying as it was to convert it into a novelty store. At least she had a place for the real stuff. The secret texts, the iron basin. The real magic. That wasn't for sale, that was her inheritance. The house and the secrets within. 

If only those secrets could pay the bills. 

"I know you're stealing." She didn't look away from the TV. Grainy images of sharks gliding through the water kept her attention. "Drop it." 

A young girl jumped at her raspy voice and quickly put the crystal she pocketed back into the kitschy barrel. Joan lit a cigarette and breathed in. 

"Try that again, and I'll turn you and your friends into toads, got it?" 

She wasn't going to turn them into toads. Magic didn't work that way, and even if it did, she wouldn't want a bunch of toads all over the place. But the empty threat was enough to send the kids scurrying away. They'd definitely be back, and not just for the candles. Joan played up the idea of a witch. She kept her customer service medium-to-terrible, as was expected of someone who owned a store called The Slaughtered Goat. Anything to keep up appearances. 

She chose not to wear a pointy hat, though. Very overdone. 

Closing and locking the front door, she flicked off the neon "Open" sign. It was dark out, and she was ready to call it a night. She loosened the corset on her kitschy Halloween dress and returned to the desk, tuning into the drama of the marine documentary. 

On screen, sharks swam through a cloud of bloody water, their eyes rolling back in a frenzy. The footage was intercut with scientists talking about the unique capabilities of sharks. Their sensitive noses are a bundle of nerves, attuned to hunting in the ocean. Wild stuff. Predatory animals always fascinated her the most. 

There was a rapid knock on the door. Joan grimaced at the disturbance. 

"We're closed!" She called out, turning up the TV volume. Ocean water splashed and gargled out of the weak speakers as the sharks were whipped up into a frenzy.  

The knocking persisted. 

Joan sighed and walked to the door. 

"I said, we're closed.." 

Quintus stood at the doorstep, grinning like a bear-trap. As always. 

"Hey Joan, been a while—wait!" 

She kept a wreath of dried garlic by the door, not just for looks. She grabbed one after another and began flinging them at Quintus like a barrage of grenades. 

"Fuck—off!—QUINT!"

He cowered from the pelting, each clove hitting with a sizzle and poof of fire. Covering his head, he backed away as the onslaught continued. 

"Will you—OW!!—Will you—achk—Fuck—hold on!!" 

"You're not borrowing Mama's book! I TOLD you!" 

A bulb of garlic bounced off Quintus's cheek, singeing the skin. 

"I'm not here for the damn book!" He fell to his knees, covering his head. Truly, out of all the vampires she encountered over the years, he was the most pitiable. The smiling ghoul in the dark, without memory, without a home. Powerful, sure, but pathetic. And owed her $48.95. 

"Then why are you… " 

Joan lowered another garlic bulb as she caught a glimpse of someone crouching in the bushes, someone tall and looking for all the world like he was about to— 

"Ah—AHD'CHHHOH!!" 

Quintus's head bobbed as he sneezed into the dirt. The man in the bushes seemingly mimicked him with a sneeze of his own, though his was kept to a silent cringe in a furl of tissues. 

She'd never seen a vampire sneeze before. 

Fascinating. 

"…Geshundeit, Quint."  She peered into the darkness, she could see the tall one's eyes glow in the night. Bright and grey like the moon, a contrast to the red glow of Quintus's eyes. 

"I see you, you know. Who are you?" 

"—That's—snfff—Nathaniel. He's uh, he's new." 

Nathaniel approached, sheepish and worrying at the little cluster of tissues between his fingertips. He looked forlorn, with big brown eyes and a mouth permanently tugged downwards. The vampire seemed to be weak and swayed where he stood. 

"Hello there, it's really wonderful to meet you. " He smiled sadly and stuck his hand out for a shake. His greeting seemed stiff and polite to a fault. Practiced. Perhaps he spent his human years greeting people. A receptionist? Customer service? 

She knew not to take the hands of vampires. 

"I can't say I like seeing more than one vampire on my doorstep." She breathed smoke into the air, "Quint, is he a spawn?" 

"Yea, obviously." 

"Is he your spawn?" 

Quintus uncurled from his stooped position on the floor, quickly rubbing at the underside of his nose. He looked as guilty as a dog after vomiting on a new rug. 

"Well…yea." 

"I thought you said you never wanted to make one." Joan leaned against the side of the doorframe, eyeing Nathaniel. He didn't seem like the kind of person Quintus would be interested in turning. Wholesomeness oozed out of him, as thick as the cold he seemed to have.

"It was just an accident, okay? Anyway, we got an emergency here. Can you please let us in? Come on…it's going to rain, and this guy's sick as it is." 

"You don't look so great yourself. I didn't know vampires could pass colds around." 

"It's—snfff—hhh—it's a—ah—." Nathaniel brought his bundle of tissues quickly up to his nose, at the mercy of a sudden tickle. Curiously, Quintus's breath hitched as well, and he brought a finger to his upper lip in a cartoonish attempt to ward off a tickle they both seemed to struggle with. 

"Hiihpp—eehh—It's Nate—heeh—making me—heeehh—HEHD'CHOOHH!!—Goddamnit!" Quintus sneezed, uncovered and angry. 

And the spawn followed after. A watery, exhausted—

"Ah'FHshiew!!" 

Joan looked from one vampire to the other, eyebrows raised.

"Fascinating." 

She mentally kicked herself, knowing that letting Quintus into her house (and life) would always inevitably lead to trouble. But she just couldn't help it. She was curious. 

Behind her, the TV crackled with sharks. A scientific display of the creature's nervous system lit the store in electric blue light. 

"Oh, what the hell. Come in, both of you." 

—————————————-

"Don't touch anything." 

She led the pair down the hidden staircase at the back of the store. For being supposed ethereal shadows of the night, they were both so loud. The newer one, Nathaniel, couldn't seem to go one breath before sniffling or coughing. And whenever he sniffled, it bothered Quintus too. He'd snort and rub away at his nose, jabbing Nathaniel in the arm to stop his incessant sniveling. She couldn't help but be amused by Quintus's predicament. He'd always been one of the more dangerous vampires she'd encountered. Not suave or conventionally handsome, but disarmingly charming in the way a feral dog is. You feel bad, you pity it. You stick your hand out too close, only to get bitten. 

And now he had his paw in some hilariously ineffectual trap, and he had to turn to her for help. Because of course he did. 

"Sorry, it's kind of messy down here. Been running out of space." 

Three more ginger cats, sisters of the enormous Buddy, scampered away from their hiding places amongst the crates lining the dark, murky hallway. They left a cloud of dust and fur in their wake. It made Nathaniel's dark eyes flutter.

"It's—snff-hhh—" Nathaniel's nose wrinkled in an irritated scrunch, and he fumbled with another packet of tissues, hurriedly opening it. 

"Shhiihht—AHD'PTSHOOH!!"  Quintus snapped forward with a harsh sneeze, one that the spawn seemed to start up for him.

"—T'CHIEww!!—snff-snff—it's alright." 

Nathaniel's legs suddenly buckled, and he slumped to the floor. Joan quickly grabbed him before he could hit the ground. 

"Whoa, there, you alright?" She pulled the man to his feet and slid an arm over her shoulder. Quintus did the same, the pair supporting the vampire on either side of his weak frame. He was tall, but worryingly light, and as cold as a corpse. 

"Idiot won't eat. Hasn't since I turned him." Quintus growled. 

"Is that why he's so sick? He looks like shit." 

"You know how it is. Starve a cold…" 

They dragged Nathaniel's limp form down the impossibly long and impossibly wide hallway, its geometries bending as they went. Innumerable artifacts of magic, real magic, were stacked precariously high. Joan had nowhere else to store them and no use for them. 

A great standing iron-maiden of glass stood at the entrance of her underground home. The blurry figure of a mummified body curled inside. Or perhaps, it wasn't a body, but a mass of indescribable tentacles and oil. Or perhaps, there was nothing at all.

"Heya, Ma'am." Quintus bowed his head, smiling toothily. "Sorry 'bout trying to steal your book and all. I swear I'll never touch it again." 

"Mama can't hear you right now," Joan grumbled as she unlocked the door. "She's in outer darkness." 

"Oh. Ah." 

Joan shoved the door open with her foot, and two more ginger cats sprinted out of the room. Together, Joan and Quintus swung Nathaniel onto the bed. Another ginger cat emerged from under the covers with a sleepy chirp and darted away. 

"So let me guess, you both want to feed off me tonight. Right?" Joan sighed, kicking her boots off and crushing the end of her dying cigarette against a nearby deer skull. 

"If he can wake up, yeah? He refuses to hunt the living."

Joan examined Nathaniel, catching a glimpse of the scar around his neck. 

"What did this guy do before you bit him?" 

Quintus looked bashful, like he was caught. He shrugged and murmured a quick "I dunno."

"Whatever. Just give me a minute, and we'll get something in him." 

"And, maybe I could—I mean, seein' as you are—" 

Joan rolled her eyes and sighed. 

"Fiiine. You can eat too. But just tonight! I'm not a blood bag." 

She retreated to the bathroom to get ready. Normally, she wouldn't leave vampires alone in her "lair", but neither one seemed to be up to do any snooping or mischief. The one called Nathaniel was clearly weak, and he was dragging Quintus down with him.

Carefully, she pulled the seal out from the back of her neck and prayed to the outer darkness. The blood in her veins coiled and relaxed. It felt nice, just like kicking off a pair of boots. Under the boudoir was a coil of rope piled in a shoebox. She had it just for these occasions. 

"AH'CHHSHH!!" 

"—HF'shhiew—" 

Sounds like Nathaniel was awake.

"Alright, you two. You have thirty minutes' worth of dinner. Anymore than that and I'll tear both of your heads off." She reemerged from the bathroom and pointed at the hands of the old grandfather clock in the corner. 

Nathaniel sat at the edge of the bed, nearly folded in on himself. He looked up at her, bleary and shy, a bundle of tissues in his fist. 

"…will this hurt you? I don't want to, if it will…" Nathaniel sniffled.

Quintus rolled his eyes and groaned. 

"I told you it won't! She aint human. I mean, she sort of is, but she's not—" 

"Neither one of you can hurt me. You'll just be draining my pipes." She sat between them, and uncoiled the rope in her hands. "But just in case, I'm using this." 

"Ah come on, you can trust us…" 

"Rules are rules. No rope, no food." 

Despite his grumbling, he obediently put his hands behind his back, letting Joan tie his wrists together in a knot. She did the same to Nathaniel, who blinked shyly up at her. She had to admit, he was a rather sweet-looking man, for a vampire. Once he learned how to hunt, she could see him being dangerously adept at charming people. 

Vampires properly bound, she leaned back on her hands, the bed squeaking with the movement.

"What'll it be then, Neck or wrist?" 

Nathaniel dumbstruck. He sniffled and Uhhm'd for a bit, finally pointing timidly to her wrist. 

"And I guess you want the neck again, right Quint?" She rolled her eyes and pushed her hair to the side. 

Quintus's eyes glowed, his teeth already sharp. 

"Yes! Oh darlin', I'm so hungry I haven't had a meal in weeks—" 

"Oh my god, wipe your mouth at least, Quint." 

"Sorry, sorry." He wiped at his mouth with the back of his bound hands, drooling already. 

Joan gave him a nod, and Quint eagerly bit into the soft flesh of her neck. 

It didn't hurt. Joan had never felt pain, being a child of the outer darkness. She felt the fangs and the pressure, the warmth of his mouth. The built-up energy within her finally eased out between his lips. She sighed in relief, as if she was being massaged rather than feasted on. Quintus was annoying, but he did have a way with this sort of thing. After a boring day in the shop, it was nice to drain out. 

Nathaniel froze. She watched him staring at her wrist like he was looking at a dirty magazine for the first time. Scandalized. 

"Mmm-Hey. It's alright. I don't feel a thing." 

Not entirely true. She shivered as Quintus's tongue lathed up the side of her neck, and she leaned into his touch. She felt many things. None of it pain.  

Timidly, Nathaniel pressed his lips to the inside of her wrist, soft as a kiss. She could feel his labored, stuffy breathing against her skin as he finally opened his mouth and bit in. The sensation buzzed and tickled up her arm, the melange of teeth and tongues sent her off into a wonderful daze as all the nightmares in her blood were drained away, a letting much needed. 

She felt Nathaniel hesitate, his teeth retracted. He paused, jaw slack and glowing eyes unfocused. And then Quintus began to sniffle. She could feel his nose pressed up against the skin of her neck flare wide, and he pulled away. 

"Snnff—Damnit Nate.." He wiggled his nose back and forth, scrunching up his face. "Just let me—hhh—eat!" 

"S-sorry—heehh" 

Nathaniel was clearly going to sneeze. Blood dripped off his chin as the sloped bridge of his nose furrowed. 

Fascinating. 

Joan slowly turned her wrist around and pressed the back of her hand under Nathaniel's mouth. She pushed up, just enough to feel the soft end of Nathaniel's nose bend. He huffed against her knuckles, his long eyelashes fluttered with the threatening sneeze. 

"Hipbht—" 

At her side, Quintus's face crumpled, lips pulled back in a sneezy grimace. His nostrils, expressive even when not in the middle of a sneeze, were fully dilated, hungry to suck in air for what was sure to be a messy, spluttering release. 

"You have an interesting link. Is sneezing the only thing you share?" 

She smirked. She knew neither one could properly answer as they panted and hitched on the precipice. But it was fun to watch a pair of dangerous, otherworldly monsters barely manage to think straight. Joan thought of the sharks and all those nerve endings in their noses. She wondered how much this tickled them, how she'd be able to drive a stake through both their hearts right now if she wanted to. 

I was Nathaniel who managed to talk first. She gave his dripping nose a rub with the back of her hand, the friction was just enough to scare the sneeze away. His breath shuddered against her hand as he sighed. 

"hhhhehhg—We don'd—snfff—d'know.." 

Quintus got a final pant in, and a rather ridiculously sounding "AH'GYEEH—" of a half-sneeze before the reaction was snatched away from him. He growled, roughly rubbing his nose against the meat of his arm, being driven mad by the itch. 

"We were hoping—snfff—You could help us out with this.." He warbled. 

Joan could feel her wounds healing fast, as they usually did. She cracked her neck back and forth, eyeing the pair of them. 

"I might, I might not. I'll have to run some tests on both of you first. Do you mind?" 

Nathaniel looked up at her, innocently. 

"Will it hurt?" 

Joan smiled. Nate really was sweet. She could see why Quintus turned him. 

"Not at all. Unless you think feathers are painful." 

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