On their way back home, Vick, Drew and Cici were all pretty quiet. It was quite obvious there were hurt feelings all around. Vick and Cici still hadn't made up for their earlier argument, Vick and Drew, well their relationship was just generally complicated, and as for Drew and Cici? They were on good terms, but surely there was still some unspoken tension between the two in some way, shape or form.
It wasn't until they entered the threshold of the valley that anyone spoke.
“How's business going?” Drew asked out of the blue. Vick's ears twitched but he hadn't responded. Drew attempted again.
“Your paper, how’s it going?”
This time, Vick turned. He grit his teeth. “I don’t have a press anymore, so no.”
“...You lost your press?” Drew asked.
“Not lost—stolen. And it’s none of your business.”
“Chill out. I’m just asking.”
“Yeah? I didn’t ask you to ask.”
Drew picked up his pace to walk alongside the floating Vampire.
“Hey, what’s your problem, man?”
Vick turned to Drew, sneering. A vein throbbed on the teen’s forehead.
“You really don’t give a damn, do you?”
Drew, face reddening with frustration, turned away and ran his fingers through his hair.
“I thought we talked about this.” Drew said.
“Frankly I don't think we've talked about it enough! You idiot. What were you thinking? What did you think was gonna come out of this?”
Drew didn't answer.
“Tell me!” Vick demanded.
“I thought I was doing the right thing!” Drew shouted back. “God, for once, I just want to do the right thing. Can't you see that? Why can't you see that I'm trying here?”
“Patterns, Drew, patterns. It's the same crap you were on two years ago, it's having the exact same effect. You know, you're probably the reason wolf boy's gonna be killed.”
Drew’s expression twisted. “How is that my fault?”
“You're an enabler. You enable people's stupid ideas, you give 'em false hope. You could've just said no.”
Drew scoffed and kicked a rock out of his way on the path.
Behind them, Cici strayed, having listened to the two bicker for some time. She felt it best to let themselves work out their differences, but that feeling was beginning to waver with every exchange. Her droopy antennae ticked and twitched. Her eye was focused ahead.
”Look, I'm sorry.” Drew said. “I didn't think too much of it.”
“Well there's your problem, you don't think.” replied the Vampire.
“Vick.” Cici cut in.
“What? I'm right.”
“You don't need to insult. Use your words.”
“Okay, my words are, I think Drew's a reckless, selfish, thrill-seeking, monkey-brained troglodyte.”
“Vick!”
“That is not a word.” Drew said.
Vick devilishly smirked. “Of course you would say that.”
“Shut up, man,” Drew rolled his eyes. “You're like, twelve.”
“Fifteen.”
Cici sighed. “This isn't going anywhere.”
“Yeah, so how about we play ‘little red schoolhouse’ and shut our traps, eh?”
“How long are you gonna let this go for, man?”
“For as long as I feel.”
“Hating for that long can't be good for your soul.
“Oh, it feels wonderful,” Vick said with a small flourish.
Cici took in a deep breath and huffed.
“Drew,” she said, drumming her fingers against each other. “Why don't you start?”
“Start what?”
“Let's talk about our feelings. C'mon. Perfect time for it.”
The two boys loudly groaned.
“C'mon—be a man.” Cici said.
“Alright,” Drew laughed a bit under his breath and licked his lips, thinking for a moment. “Alright, Vick, I didn't like it just now when you called me a trilobite.
“Troglodyte.” Vick corrected.
“Whatever.”
The man slowed down his pace a bit as he stewed on his thoughts, getting everything put together in his head.
“I don't know—I mean...I do know. I know why you hate me. Wish it wasn't like that. You were like a little brother to me, you know? Just…” He sighed, again. “I'm sorry. About this, about your mom, I'm sorry. I've said it a hundred times, I'll say it as many times over as I need to, I'm sorry. Okay?”
There was another slight pause.
“Look, I don't know why I do the things I do. I just do them because in the moment my gut tells me, hey, this is a good thing. I wish I wasn't so...reckless, or whatever. But I got a big heart, I think. And...I'm tired of being treated like I don't have one. So just, you know. I would appreciate it if you would give me a bit of a break. I know I don't deserve it, but...I'm asking.”
Quiet. The group's forward shuffle came to a halt. Cici looked at the teen expectantly.
“Well?” Cici asked. “You got anything to say back?”
Vick's responsive sigh was long and drawn out.
“I don't know. It feels like everything you do is done out of spite and insecurity. Like—you have this massive savior complex. Always want to help fight the power, but you never care about the consequences—you do it all just because you want to be the hero, you want to be the good guy making the other guys look bad, you want to make yourself feel better for screwing it all up before. Even then, it doesn't make sense to me. Why are you helping this kid sneak out, knowing how dangerous it is? Knowing you guys could've gotten killed, or worse?”
Drew bit his upper lip and shrugged. As he was about to speak, Cici cleared her throat.
“I think you're being a bit of a hypocrite.” She said, tilting her head. Vick grit his teeth.
“Don't try and turn this around on me.”
“No, I'm serious. You practically went and did the same thing, publishing that story so fast—probably made things worse for Andy too.”
Vick crossed his arms and rolled his eyes.
“Why am I getting jumped on here? I thought the point of this was to air out our feelings.”
“I'm just telling it like it is.”
Drew put a hand on her shoulder.
“It's fine. Being a hypocrite doesn't mean he's wrong.”
“Thanks.” Vick said half-heartedly.
“I don't know if I can give you the answers that you want to hear.” Drew said quietly. “I really am trying, though.”
Vick sighed. “I know.”
For a time, they were quiet. The group collectively thought things over. The rain gently pattered down overhead.
Vick began to yearn for a roof—he'd expected they'd have been captured by now, getting this close to the mountain's peak. Curiously enough, they hadn't been met with any sign of the Rangers on their journey back home. Someone was seriously slacking off.
The path was growing quite steep there, though admittedly there hadn't been much of a path left at that point. The weeds grew thick, the top of the mountain was just in sight—its steep incline turned sharply upward into a wall of stone. There was no way to walk around it, and climbing it looked quite daunting.
...Daunting for any normal man, at least.
The group of supernaturals made quick work of the task—Drew utilized his powerful legs to leap up the wall, Cici stuck to it as easily as anything else, and Vick? Well, Vick just floated on over, being sure to catch a slipping Drew along the way.
It was a kind gesture reciprocated with little more than a respectful nod between the two.
Vick was never going to forgive Drew, but Cici was right. Being a hater, especially right now, was getting to be exhausting. He just wanted to go to bed.
Before he could allow himself to totally rest, however, there was still one last pocket of venom that hadn't been emptied from his lungs.
That double crossing, two-timing wolf boy.
The Vampire's fists clenched, a sneer growing on his face.
“I still can't believe this garbage. I mean, after everything, he just—sells us out?”
Cici shook her head, getting caught up with the hastening teen.
“I don’t think he sold out. Honestly, after everything Hudson did, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did. We probably seem like the bad guys to him.”
Drew scoffed. “That's not a good excuse, personally.”
“Do you guys honestly think he's happy with how this turned out?”
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Doesn't matter. He's still compliant with genocidal maniacs.”
“I am begging you to have some empathy.”
Drew bit his lips with annoyance.
“Like he did? When he decided to work with the enemy? You know what's gonna happen if he talks just a little bit too much—when they find out about Hudsonville?”
The Xita placed her hands at her hips. “As long as we're doing second chances.”
“What does it matter?” Vick asked. “He's already long gone anyways. As soon as he gets his cure, you know he's not gonna stick around.”
Cici's head lowered.
“...We don't know that.”
“We've got a pretty good idea.”
Sniff.
Sniff, sniff.
Drew's sharp inhales drew the attention of the two teens—the man had been sniffing at the air, grimacing. He turned to the others.
“Something's burning.”
There, off in the distance, smothering what little light had been in the sky—a blackened smog that threatened to choke the life out of all who breathed it. It rose high into the air from the valley's western gate. Drew's eyes widened.
“You’ve gotta be kidding me…” He slowly said as he started to walk toward it, though Cici stopped him before he got too far.
“Let’s have the Rangers handle that one.” Cici said.
Though Drew relented, when he turned back around he realized they were missing a head.
“Where’s Vick?” He asked.
…
Of course, the Vampire was always going to disappear.
Though he liked to think they were in the process of setting aside their differences, he really couldn't stand to be around the two any longer. Too much emotion, too much to try and process.
So, as soon as the opportunity presented himself...he left.
Maybe he didn't have a printing press anymore, but heck, surely he could make a profit off of some ghastly wildfire photography. He just had to get close enough to see it…
Succumbing to his whims, Vick sprinted toward the ominous plumes of black smoke, his illusory veil leaving even Drew in the dust. He nimbly traversed the rugged terrains without breaking a sweat, his nocturnal eyes focusing on the billowing clouds that were steadily growing in size.
Approaching the spreading darkness, panic prickled at Vick's skin as he watched the billowing smoke move ominously closer. The Vampire did his best to move out from the direction of the wind.
While he was well out of direct harm's way, the ever-shifting direction of the winds kept him on his toes. It was a blood-pumping feeling. He was the sole observer to this scene of devastation, bearing witness to the spectacle few others would. The great western gate had been burned to ashes, the roots which once made their home within its cavernous space now reduced to nothing but a poisonous smog. Molten bodies surrounded the area. The air reeked with scorching hair, with burnt flesh. It was enough to make anyone gag, let alone the pale teen. Vick cussed to himself, his lip twitching with a poorly masked fear.
Who could have done this? Were they under attack?
Taking a deep breath, Vick lifted his camera, the worn device still dangling from around his neck. He adjusted the lens, aligning it with the roaring fires, trying to get the flames in focus. The stuttering flash of the camera cut through the dark. Again and again he clicked, each shot a story in itself. His eyes darted back and forth between the fire and his camera's viewfinder, ensuring he had the perfect frame before pressing down on the shutter. The flames danced in his lens with an unsettling elegance, harsh shadows turning ordinary objects into monstrous silhouettes.
As hauntingly beautiful as it was alarming, the fire was a photographer’s dream come true—an unexpected muse amidst danger. Yet even as Vick reveled in his isolated sanctuary of chaos and artistry, something itched at the back of his mind.
The feeling was unmistakable; those spine-tingling chills running down one's back when one was being observed.
Vick stilled, the camera now hanging loosely in his hands. His heart hammered in his chest as he scanned the burning landscape. Sweat trickled down his face, mingling with the rain and the soot. The fire was growing with every passing second. The flames reached higher into the cloud-polluted sky, casting long shadows against the charred ground—yet, Vick's attention was no longer on the destruction around him.
Slowly, he turned around, feeling a chill creep up his back despite the oppressive heat. He was not alone. His eyes darted over the rough terrain, flicking past burned trees and mangled remains of what used to be residential buildings. He felt the pit grow in his stomach as he realized the magnitude of devastation that had occurred. And still, he could not shake off that eerie feeling.
Suddenly, a hand shot out from beneath a pile of debris nearby, grabbing Vick's ankle with an iron grip that made him jump in alarm. Stumbling back, he tripped over something hard and landed on his back with a painful thud. As he scrambled to his feet Vick watched as the shadowy figure crawled out from the ruins.
Elder Balrog.
The boy’s eyes went wide, before a sneer spread on his face. Here he was, that brainless oaf, at the mercy of Vick’s goodwill. A number of thoughts popped into the teen’s mind, none of them good.
A porous wound sizzled across Balrog’s back as the man dragged himself along the ground. Though he reached out for a helping hand from the teen, Vick’s mind was already preoccupied. There was profit to be made off this predicament. Perhaps this was how he could get his press back.
The teen smirked, straightened up, and approached the wounded Orc with a virulently smug energy—it was an energy which wavered greatly, like the rest of the boy's facade.
“W-well, well. Would you look who it is?”
The Orc struggled to respond, sweat drenching his brow and dipping into his mouth. A guttural noise escaped him. “Rrrr...rruhh…”
Vick shrugged his shoulders.
“Oh, I’d be happy to help, but the thing is, I’m runnin’ short on—”
Balrog suddenly pounded his fist into the earth, shutting the Vampire right up. He pushed himself up as much as he could manage, looking Vick straight in the eye all the while.
“...Rrrun…boy.”
A sharp chill—Vick ducked just in time to avoid a pair of burly arms attempting to grab him.
Juking to the side, Vick kneed the man as hard as he could in the gut—causing the ambushing knight to cough his lungs out. The Vampire spared no time waiting for the knight's recovery, high-footing it out of there like his Elder commanded him. Guilt flooded the pits of his stomach as he heard Balrog's pained roars from afar.
Fweeeeeeee.
The sound of a screeching flare flying up, just overhead. Vick's eyes fearfully panned up toward the brightening sky. His fears only grew worse as he could pick up the shuffling of armor, shouting voices and the like just ahead. Heart jumping out of his chest, the teen skidded to a halt.
“Halt!” a voice echoed from the darkness ahead.
Vick didn’t listen—he could see the silhouettes of knights emerging from the smoky gloom. With a rapid incantation under his breath, an invisibility spell wrapped around Vick like a cloak. His heartbeat in his ears, he watched as the knights ran past him, chasing after his phantom footsteps.
As they disappeared into the night, Vick cautiously moved forward. His eyes were trained on the direction from where the knights had come, his curiosity piqued. The grassy passage lead downhill, toward the mouth of a cave. The Vampire stopped, just behind a thick oak, to observe.
There was a lot of activity at the cave’s entrance—knights clustered together, some tending to their wounds, others eating food from cans. Orders were barked to one another as a small troupe of the men darted toward the rising flare. Vick watched from his hiding spot at the knights continued their march. Quickly, quiet as a mouse, he descended down the hill for a better look.
As he neared, the teen’s eyes strayed to the left, toward the hunched figures of Martin and the veiled woman. They were speaking to each other, quietly, something about “the boy’s location”—were they trying to track Andy down? Where was that brat, anyhow? They’d been working together…right?
Maybe wolf boy had second thoughts…
Before he could let the thought distract him for too long, Vick’s gaze directed itself toward the ground—just out of the pair’s reach, hastily strewn across the ground was a bag with a journal sticking halfway out.
Still cloaked by his spell, Vick lightly stepped toward the satchel, keeping a close eye on the monster-hunting pair all the while. Carefully, he reached down and snatched the journal up. It tempted him with its juicy secrets, but there was no time to linger—before they could realize it was missing, Vick quickly retreated back up the hill.
Once he was a safe distance away, Vick paused to catch his breath, his spell beginning to waver. The worn leather journal practically begged to be opened. He glanced around warily, ensuring he was alone, before cracking it open and examining its contents more closely. Flipping to a random page, Vick read a few scrawled notes and faded diagrams. His brow furrowed as he tried to make sense of it.
It was a messy canvas of this person’s life, scattered memories jotted down amidst the clutter of imagination. Etchings of weapons, symbols, incantations. There were diary entries recounting events long since passed—most of which Vick did not care to read. He was there for the good stuff, after all, anything which would be pertinent to their tricky situation. So, like any self-respecting impatient teenager would do, he skipped to the end of the filled pages.
Now there was something promising.
He’d only caught the tail end of the passage initially, but turning back a few pages, Vick spotted a few diagrams of note, accompanied by brief passages of text.
The most eye-catching piece of the journal was a detailed drawing of an amulet, simply labeled “heirloom.” The teen read on.
“Today marks a glorious day for our union. I cannot recall how many years we have been searching for any trace of the heirloom, and now, here it is, just beneath our noses. Vulgo’s operations in the quarry had me doubtful at first, but now I see there are many fruits to his labors.
The gemstone itself contains potent cosmic energies, with the ability to channel and amplify one’s latent psychic abilities. The power comes at a heavy price. It should not be used lightly; still, with this relic comes the power to eliminate the scourge—perhaps we may even begin to heal them in the process.”
Vick’s eyes widened a bit, a pit opening up in his stomach. If the Humans had an all-powerful magic gem on their side of the court, it couldn’t be good news. Was that how they got past the outer gate?
The amulet sounded incredibly dangerous in the wrong hands, and by the looks of it, it was already among them. Vick had to warn the others, sure, but…would it hurt to read a little more? His eyes scrying over the page, the Vampire’s attention was caught by another passage.
“Today I save a boy’s life. With the moon drawing closer there is little time left to locate the white wolf. I fear the boy’s mental state grows worse by the minute; my men report he now assists the monsters—he is misguided at best, beginning to turn at the worst. We haven’t time to lose.
We have an upper hand—the heirloom—though I begin to fear its consequences. If nothing else, perhaps there is another willing to aid in its use. My ability to utilize it effectively wears thin.
The darkness cannot be allowed to prevail. Andrew must live.”
Taking it all in, Vick scoffed, shaking his head and folding the journal shut. He looked over his shoulder, around the base of the tree, toward the camp. If they really had access to some all-powerful amulet, where would they be keeping it? Had it been in the bag, had he barely missed it? Or had it been in a more precarious position, around the neck of the veiled woman? There was only one way to know for sure—Vick’s desire for validation reached critical mass, and seeing the opportunity present itself, he decided he was going back in.
Nothing too tricky beyond a fresh cloak, he thought.
Casting his spell yet again, Vick began to creep his way back. His eyes were locked on the whispering pair, on Martin’s obnoxious ten-gallon hat. Perhaps it was arrogance, perhaps it was short-sightedness, but in one way or another, the Vampire didn’t spot the maw of the bear trap approaching quickly underfoot…
SNAP!
Vick let out an agonized yelp as the metal teeth of the trap clamped viciously down on his ankle—his illusion was shattered near instantly. The boy toppled over onto his knees, writhing, desperately trying to force open the trap—though the silver finish did nothing but further scald his hands.
Martin and the remaining knights quickly surrounded the bellowing boy. Eyes widened with surprise and suspicion, weapons were drawn.
“I know this one,” Martin said. “He was with my son.”
Vick glared fearfully, defiantly at the crowd closing in. Watery eyes leaked tears into his gasping mouth. Far before he knew it, the Vampire was covered in restrictive hands. He tried to drag himself away, but the trap held him firmly in place.
“Search him.” Ordered the approaching veiled woman. Two knights held Vick up by his arms while a third patted him down, confiscating his camera, his keys and lastly, the journal he had stolen. The woman took it into her hands and looked it over carefully. Though he could not see her face, Vick could feel her glare piercing through the veil. Talia’s grip on the journal tightened, charred fingers trembling slightly with rage as she turned to Martin.
“It seems your son has been quite busy, Mr. Kessler. Consorting with the monsters, aiding their escape. Now he sends spies?”
Martin frowned, itching his beard. “That ain’t like my boy, he’s just…confused, right now. Them monsters got ‘im all twisted up in the head, but, we’ll set ‘im straight, you’ll see.”
“For his sake, I hope you are right.” Talia said rather coldly. She gestured to the knights restraining Vick. “Bind him and bring him along. We may have use for him yet.”
Vick struggled and cursed as the knights tied his hands behind his back with coarse rope. As the men dragged the Vampire away, Martin hung back, weathered face creased with thoughts.
“…You sure this is necessary? He’s just a kid.”
“A dangerous one.” Talia replied shortly. “These monsters will stop at nothing to protect their own, even going so far as to send children to do their dirty work. We cannot show weakness now, Mr. Kessler. Not if we hope to save your son.”
Martin sighed and nodded, though discomfort still shadowed his eyes. He watched as Vick was unceremoniously tossed into a small wheelbarrow, bound and gagged so he could not longer mutter his incantations. The discomfort in Martin’s chest refused to abate, nagging at him like a persistent itch he couldn’t scratch. He turned to Talia, brows knitted together.
“So what now?”
“We know who the boy is with, we have you to thank for that,” Talia said as she tucked the journal into her robes. “In the meantime, the Vampire child may prove useful in helping us navigate. We’ll make him talk when the time is right.”
Martin’s mouth tightened to a grim line. He didn’t much care for the sound of that, but he held his tongue. Talia seemed to sense his unease, as she placed a hand on his shoulder, her voice softening a touch.
“I know this is difficult, but we must stay the course. We cannot afford to be gentle with these monsters.”
The old man’s shoulders slumped. “I know. It’s just…Andy is a good kid, and—”
“And we will save him.” Talia concluded with a small squeeze. “It will just take some courage.”
Martin let out a small scoff, crossing his arms, his head lowering.
Yeah, he thought. Let’s hope that’s all it takes.