“Now what?”

It had been about an hour, and only Jonathan’s mouth was free. The rest of his body was still immobilised, though Lucy had propped him into a more comfortable sitting position. She sat down on the sofa across from him and sighed loudly.

“There’s nothing we can do. I’ve searched every place he could potentially be, but he’s nowhere to be found.”

“At least the good news is, he hasn’t gone on to exact his revenge yet.”

“That’s the worrying part,” Lucy frowned. “Duncan’s not going to just let this go. I fear he has a more malicious plan in mind than simply killing the man outright.”

“How long more do you reckon before I’m completely released from his spell?” Jonathan asked worriedly.

“By the looks of it, at least twenty four more hours,” Lucy said with a glum look on her face. “Since you’re the one who activated his spell, it won’t go away so easily. I’m afraid you’ll have to wait this one out.”

“Bugger it.” Jonathan glanced at yellowish red rays beginning to pour in through the windows and sighed loudly. Anya’s definitely going to give him an earful when he gets out of this.

“Hoho! Great to see you mingling with your colleagues,” Maximus voice boomed from behind him. Jonathan would have jumped, if not for the spell holding him in place. Doesn’t anyone use the door here?

“I’ve been placed under a freezing spell,” Jonathan complained. “Sorry in advance if I can’t look in your direction while we’re talking.”

Maximus let out a hearty chuckle. “What did you do to Duncan, steal his black widow fangs?”

“I thought Duncan was done with making poisons?” Lucy queried.

“Saw him in the outskirts of the city just now, hunting for black widows.” Maximus shrugged his shoulders. “Thought he was acting a bit odd though, with the way he was looking at me. Portalled right away, that man did. Can’t think why; it’s not like I was in my wolf form.”

“Are you a werewolf?” Jonathan asked.

“You’re pretty sharp,” Maximus said. “Yes, but I have it relatively controlled now.”

“How?” Lucy asked.

“Duncan’s been making potions for me to suppress the symptoms. Oh, but don’t mention that to him though. He’s doing me a great favour and doesn’t want to extend that to too many people.”

“Sounds like him alright,” Lucy mumbled. “Did you look into the assassin that attacked the auction that night?”

“In my defence, you didn’t give me much to go on with.” Maximus shuffled his desk and packed papers into the drawers. “He wasn’t a paranormal being, so his identity doesn’t concern us.”

The man left as quietly as he came, evaporating into thin air in a puff of smoke. For a supposed founder of an organisation, Maximus was a man of surprisingly few words.

“Should we really be butting into Duncan’s business?” Jonathan muttered. “I mean, if he wants to choose that path for himself, who are we to stop him? Maybe this is the only way he can finally find peace for himself.”

“What? We’re his friends, that’s who we are!” Lucy’s voice rose a little. She looked down as her voice dropped again. “He’s… he’s the only friend I still have, and the only family I have left. I don’t want to be left alone… Not again.”

This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

“Lucy…” Jonathan started, but could not seem to find the right words to comfort someone more than thirty times his age.

“So, I take it you and your brother aren’t exactly on best of terms?” He changed the topic quickly before the atmosphere got heavier.

“What happened to him…?” Lucy mumbled to herself before turning to Jonathan. “Vampires have a few weaknesses: Fire, holy symbols, and silver. Silver stops our healing, while the other two can destroy us permanently. How was he able to wield holy fire and not hurt himself in the process?”

“Your guess is as good as mine,” Jonathan said.

“Holy fire… Black widow fangs… Hold on, I think I have an idea of where Duncan went.” Lucy stood up suddenly. She disappeared into her shadow before Jonathan could make any more confused noises.

He sat on the sofa in silence, waiting for the spell to lose its effect.

----------------------------------------

Anya stepped out of the cab as the afternoon sun blazed down on her. Not like she minded though, she was in an exceptionally good mood after ten heavenly hours of sleep. The five star hotel was definitely worth its price, and the taxi ride back was pleasantly quiet. And then she caught sight of a familiar figure.

“Jonathan Warner!” she spat at the cowering man. “Finally decided to show your face after ditching me yesterday, have you?!”

“I’m sorry, Anya!” Jonathan raised his hands to placate his friend. “I didn’t mean to ditch you; I didn’t have a choice!”

“Oh yeah?” Anya placed her hands on her hips. “Explain.”

“Perhaps I should explain on the way back.” Jonathan hurried along before the people gawking could call their friends and family to watch the show. Anya tutted her lips and followed him.

“So?” the woman pressed him.

“Uhm… Lucy invited me to a… sermon. Which ended pretty late,” Jonathan stuttered. “I couldn’t get a taxi back so I crashed at her place, and I ended up… oversleeping.”

“You crashed at her place?” Anya practically screamed.

“Y-yes…?” Jonathan answered hesitantly, wondering if Anya had seen through his lie or if she was somehow angry at him for doing so. He whispered a silent prayer for the former to be true.

“You…” Anya huffed in a way that reminded Jonathan of a bunny aggressively protecting its territory. It was taking all his willpower to resist laughing before his friend decided to switch to her cop settings.

She was still fuming when they walked up the stairs to their apartment, but her expression quickly gave way to shock. Her hand flew to her mouth as her stomach twisted into a knot at the small figure lying in a puddle of blood on the floor outside their apartment. She ran along the corridor after Jonathan.

“Oscar! Oscar, no…” Jonathan fell to his knees, cradling the bullet riddled dog whimpering slightly. Its black eyes blinked painfully at him as its breaths slowed to a stop.

“You’re a very difficult man to get hold of, Warner,” a gruff voice sounded from inside the apartment. “Ms Harred demands to see you.”

Anya drew her gun pointlessly at the dozens of gangsters pointing their automatic rifles back at her.

“Good boy… You’re a good boy…” Jonathan held his friend’s carcass tightly, pain distorting his voice almost to the point of unrecognition. “You did good… Thank you… my best friend…”

“Move, informant. No tricks this time.” The gangster pointed his rifle at the trembling man as the others confiscated Anya’s weapon.

“Ha… Haha… Ahahaha…” Jonathan sounded almost maniacal. “Tricks? Not for scum like you.”

His eyes flew open, coated with electricity as he grabbed the rifle’s barrel. The gangster yelled in shock and pulled the trigger. The bullet bounced harmlessly off his forehead, and Jonathan released a strong surge of electricity. The gangster spasmed violently as his body began to turn black. Jonathan stopped before his corpse caught fire.

The sound of gunfire threatened to deafen him, but he was outrunning sound itself now. Jonathan pulled out a knife, and a primal part of him screamed in protest. It wanted all of them to see every one of these murderers suffer before his eyes, to see them scream in vain for mercy.

But his mortal friend was still at stake. His eyes glinted in anticipation as the knife sliced cleanly through the guts of his first victim still frozen in time. There would be time to properly torment more of them once Anya was safe.

A flash of lightning, dead men, and a bloodied knife should have been enough to tell Anya what he had done, he figured. So Jonathan scooped the dumbstrucked woman in his arms before she could react.

He left the apartment.