Fists pounded hopelessly against the charred wood as fire raged all around. The man screamed in desperation, throwing his body against the door over and over again. It was no use. The doors were chained shut.

“Nicholaum, look out!”

Burning wood crashed before his feet as a pair of hands yanked him away from the collapsing ceiling beams. The man staggered backwards, pulling his wife into a tight embrace. Faint sounds of people chanting drifted over the crackling embers.

“We are doomed, my love.” Nicholaum put his head against his wife in defeat. “But I regret nothing. There can be no greater joy for me than to die in the arms of the woman I love.”

“Oh my beloved…” the woman sobbed. “This is all my fault. If only I wasn’t a witch… If only I was careful enough not to slip up-”

“Do not despair, my dearest.” The man cracked a pained smile despite choking on the fumes. “If it is God’s will for us to be part in this life, then I shall pray we meet in the next.”

Nicholaum collapsed to the ground, wheezing hard.

“N-no… please. Please don’t go…” The woman fell to her knees, helping him up. “I’ll get us out of here… I’ll get us out of here…”

Her lover held her hand tightly. “Do no such thing, my love. The villagers think you were alone in our house when they set their fire. They will cease their hunt for you once they find my corpse. Go on… without me.”

“Life… isn’t worth living… without you…”

“For better and for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish always…” Nicholaum’s voice had already reduced to a whisper in his strain.

“As a sanctuary of warmth and peace,” the woman joined in. “I pledge my love, devotion, faith and honour as I join my life to yours…”

Her voice trailed away into choked sobs as the man’s body went limp in her hands. She remained motionless for a moment, before laying her husband gently on the ground.

“I love you… I will always love you,” she whispered. “No matter where you go, I will find you. This I promise to you, my love.”

And her body faded into smoke, leaving the house along with the escaping ash.

~ ~ ~

Jonathan woke to the sound of a ringing phone. He got up immediately like a startled cat, before rubbing his head tenderly. His eyes glazed over, trying to make sense of that impossibly vivid dream. Ever since he became an immortal, sleep became more of a pastime to him. And yet, it had been a while since he dreamt like that. It felt almost as if that dream was some sort of memory.

It took a few more seconds before he realised that his phone was still ringing, so he promptly picked it up.

“Jonathan, I have… news for you.” Angus was on the other line. “Lucy has awakened from her coma, but she’s… I think you should come see for yourself.”

He cut the call and sped out of the house.

A few seconds later, Jonathan arrived at the Immortal Association’s medical bay. The witch doctors had already stopped giving him odd looks by now. After all, practically the entire ward was now aware of the only patient they had in years.

“Angus, where’s Lucy?” He walked urgently to the fae, who was standing outside the empty hospital room.

“Not to worry, Warner.” Angus held him back for some reason. “Carpenter is physically alright, but I’m afraid there have been some complications.”

This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

Two Minotaurs walked into view, escorting a ragged-looking woman between them.

“Jonathan, dearie. There you are!” Lucy shook them off and hobbled over to him. “Don’t leave me with these strange people again, alright? I’ve been dreadfully lonely without you, boy.”

Jonathan supported her as she waddled her body gingerly beside him. Her hair was a silvery white, and there was a constant slight tremble in her voice.

“The hell happened to her?” he asked.

“It seems that in her recovery process, her memories have been jumbled up. It’s even influenced her shape-shifting,” Angus said, turning to Lucy. “Carpenter, may I ask how old you are?”

“C-Carpenter?” Lucy’s eyes widened in indignation. “How dare you speak my family name in that tone, young man! Have some respect for your elders. I am ninety years old!”

Angus shook his head. “It seems she has forgotten who I am as well. You’re the only one she knows deep enough for her to remember you. You have to take it from here. But do be gentle with her; her memories appear to be unstable. There’s no telling how long she’ll think herself an old woman.”

“Damn…” Jonathan muttered under his breath, before offering an arm to her. “Come on, Gran. Let’s get you back to your house.”

“Gran… I like it. Why, aren’t you a dear?” Lucy gave him a wide smile, before turning back at Angus. “You should learn a thing or two from him, lad. Look at how polite he is!”

Jonathan nudged her forward, and they left the building.

~ ~ ~

Lucy made for the kitchen the moment they entered her house. Jonathan had no idea what for, but he was still grateful to have a moment to himself. This week— No, just these two days— had been more than crazy. The death of a friend, a murderer on the loose, Lucy’s amnesia, his relationship with Anya…

Jonathan rested his head on the couch.

This sort of thing only happens over a few years with a generous portion of space between them, not within less than forty-eight hours. To make things worse, Lucy had stubbornly insisted that she return to her home despite the killer still being out there. There was no telling if he’d come to finish the job either. Jonathan simply could not afford to be by her side all day to protect her. Then again, it was not like that even worked the first time too.

A fragrant aroma wafted to Jonathan, offering a pleasant respite from his worries.

“I hope you’re hungry, Jonathan.” Lucy sauntered out of the kitchen, gingerly carrying a gigantic pot that betrayed the prodigious strength all vampires possessed. “It’s all yours. Don’t be shy to ask for more.”

Jonathan scarcely had time to widen his eyes when the first spoonful of stew was thrust in his face. He chewed it hurriedly, eager to empty his mouth so that he could talk again, but yet another spoon was offered to him. The man swallowed quickly as warm ceramic met his teeth again. Lucy was practically feeding him like a baby.

“W-wait… I’m full…” he mumbled through the mush in his mouth, politeness be damned.

“Nonsense, you’re a growing boy.”

“I’m thirty-five…”

Lucy pouted slightly, before smiling warmly at him again. Any hint of her usual sultriness was long gone, and now replaced by the gentle affection of a grandmother.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, dearie. Is it too bland?” The woman covered her mouth. “I should’ve added some garlic. I forgot you are not allergic to them.”

“Hold on, Lucy.” Jonathan shook his hands in front of him frantically before she could scoot off to the nearest market. “What do you remember about me, may I ask?”

Lucy held her head tightly for a brief moment.

“Does it matter? I do remember that I know you, and you’ve been kind to me,” she said in a slightly strained voice. “That’s good enough for me.”

Jonathan’s face darkened with concern.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Lucy said. “I’m not oblivious; I know something is wrong with my memories. Fate works in miraculous ways, lad. I have faith that they will recover ere’ long. Until then, I’m choosing to spend time with my little boy here.”

The man gave her a wry smile, choosing to sit still while Lucy ruffled his hair affectionately again.

“Do you remember anything about the Ghost Of Glasgow?” Jonathan asked.

“Never heard of it before.”

Jonathan slumped his shoulders. Yet another lead gone just like that. He clenched his jaw silently. The Ghost Of Glasgow was still one step ahead of him, almost as though she was somehow following his every move.

“It’s okay, Lucy.” The statement came out more forceful than usual, obviously aimed more at himself than at his friend. “Keep in touch, and let me know the second anything feels wrong.”

Jonathan headed for the door.