Returning to work after a day off was the worst feeling, especially considering the position Heather found herself in. But she sucked it up, knowing she needed the money more than she needed her sanity. She moved through the corridors, cutting through a sector that contained the laboratory. Experiments had been sanctioned to be performed out of the prison, mainly because the scientists had access to prisoners for resources like blood draws and behavior studies. What they were working on, she wasn't 100% sure, but it seemed to be a lot busier than usual. Curious, she found herself hovering near the set of doors, watching the activity. She saw faint glimpses of vials, computers, and bustling lab coats. But beyond a set of steel doors was something even stranger. As they opened to allow a scientist to exit, she could have sworn she saw an unconscious person being wheeled around on a steel gurney. She heard someone clear their throat, and looked to find a very unamused looking woman in a starch white coat.

"Level 5 clearance only, grunt," the woman said.

Heather was caught off guard by the disrespect, and opened her mouth to say something, but the scientist merely waved her off. She joined the stream of people bustling in and out. What was her problem? Nevermind; she couldn't waste her time lingering around somewhere she clearly wasn't welcome. She continued towards the room Chris was being held in, and luckily, she didn't hear anything out of the ordinary. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find the guard she was relieving was Isla. Even more surprising, the girl was right in front of Chris's cell, her phone screen pointed towards it while she showed photos to him.

"And this is Walnuts! He's the baby."

"That is a quality kitten. Look at that fluffy face! Reminds me of a cat I used to have, his name was Señor Fluffy Pants."

"Oh. My. God. That name is sooo shapir!"

“...What?”

Heather cleared her throat, and Isla turned around, mortified. She quickly shoved her phone back into her pocket. Chris leaned against the glass, a smug expression on his face as he watched Heather cycle through several different emotions before she finally settled on exasperation.

"Isla. Outside. Now."

The young guard looked between Heather and Chris, deciding whether she would rather take her chances with her supervisor or a vampire. Either could kill her on a whim, really. Ultimately, she chose to obey, stepping out into the hall.

"This is what I was worried about," Heather began to lecture. "You can't let these creatures manipulate you!"

"But he's so nice," Isla argued. "He loves animals like me and he-"

Heather held up a hand. "There is no such thing as a nice vampire. There are clever vampires, and cunning vampires, and hell, even sexy vampires, but there are absolutely no vampires that are kind in a genuine sense. They mimic our emotions and use them as a tool. You were taught this."

Isla picked underneath her fingernails, refusing to look Heather in the eye, but was still brave enough to argue. "They can be, though. They may be apex predators, but personality-wise, some of them are just normal people who got a shit deal. My mom, she-"

"How could you be a guard here if you don't understand why we're needed?!"

The younger woman lifted her head defiantly, the comment pissing her off enough that she gained confidence. "Heather, do you have to hate humans to work at a human prison? No. It just means you want to protect society from bad people. But that's not even a good comparison, is it? For most of the creatures here, their only crime is trespassing. So they could buy things. BUY. And, like I was trying to explain before, my mother had her life saved by a vampire once when she was lost in the Outskirts. Instead of feeding on her, or killing her, it helped her. So forgive me if I'm not prejudiced enough to fit your standards."

"Isla, don't make me report you. That kind of talk could get you canned."

"Maybe I want to be canned, if this is the reaction I get for not being a closed minded bitch."

Heather balked. "You know, I could fire you right here on the spot just for disrespect!"

"I'll do you one better," Isla said. "I quit."

She took off her belt, dropping it and all the weapons it contained onto the floor before storming off. Heather stared after her in disbelief, having a hard time processing what just happened. Eventually, she got her wits about her enough to go back to her post. She'd sort out the Isla ordeal later. Hell, the others would probably talk her out of it before she even reached the doors. But she couldn't help but have a sour taste in her mouth, seeing a person she knew so well in a new light. The moment the doors opened, Chris started to applaud, and she had to fight to keep her composure.

"Wow, bravo. You ruined a perfectly good kid's day just because she's capable of nuance. And she's like, what, a decade younger than you? How embarrassing. But, I have to say, at least the kids are all right."

He watched her, and when she just stared back at him, he tilted his head to the side. The cogs in Heather's mind turned. He managed to infiltrate the mind of a girl just by asking to see photos of her pets. Unbelievable... No. No, it had to be more than that... Did he act charming? Okay no, that was impossible; to her he had all the charm of a damp sock.

“You okay?" Chris spoke up. "You're having one hell of a face journey right now."

Heather stepped up to the glass. "Show it to me."

"Jesus, first you hate me, and now you want me to whip it out for you? Make up your mind, Heather, which is it?"

"Not your dick, moron. Show me your 'humanity'. Show me what you did that made her think you're one of the 'good ones' in a species where good ones don't even fucking exist."

That managed to actually throw Chris for a loop, and for a moment, Heather thought she finally had him. Instead, he just burst into uproarious laughter. Not the kind she was used to from him. This wasn't at all sardonic, though it certainly was still at her expense.

"Oh - Oh I'm crying - Okay. Phew." He wiped his eyes, looking Heather down with an expression that read a mix of amusement and disgust. "I don't have to justify my existence. Not now, not ever, not to anybody. And certainly not to somebody like you. I'm sitting here, half starved, bored out of my mind, and almost tempted to prove all the ideas you have about vampires right. But I'm not gonna do a goddamned thing. You know why? Because I would rather eat my own fucking hands than be even be remotely like you. So don't flatter yourself with that superiority complex of yours."

He stalked over to his bed, flopping down dramatically. His back remained turned to her for a while. She stood where she was supposed to, waiting for him to come back with something, anything, but he didn't speak either. They were both too angry. Eventually, however, Heather couldn't resist the urge to rejoin. She thought about her speech for a minute before returning to the glass cell, staring at the back of Chris's head.

"A lot of things have been happening lately. I feel like I'm standing on shaky ground. So I want to know, once and for all, right here and right now, who you are. You clearly want me to listen to you. It doesn't mean I'm gonna trust you. Hell, it doesn't even mean I'm gonna like you. I just want to know. I want to know whether or not I'm fucking crazy."

Chris indulged her, even though she’d expected him not to. "Fine. I suppose I will tell you my sad, tragic life story."

Just by the tone of his voice, she knew that he was being tongue in cheek, and she grinded her teeth.

He sat up on the bed, one leg dangling over the side while the other remained tucked up beneath him. "I was born in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-seven, on a cold winter’s day in upstate New York, to an Indian-American fashion designer and a Mohawk engineer. Both were very successful, despite coming from poorer backgrounds. They decided to dub me Christian, ironic considering that my mother was Hindu and my father was a staunch atheist, but I digress. My first memory is-"

"You're not helping your case here."

Chris shrugged. "I really don't know what you want from me, then."

"Honesty. Actual honesty."

“Hmm, that's funny, because whenever someone is honest with you and you decide you don't like what they have to say, you shut down. I overheard what happened with you and Isla. You don't have me fooled."

"Change my mind."

"Ew. I know you're not a white college aged guy, but I've met enough of them to know that 'change my mind' is code for 'say something I'll ignore and then tell you you're wrong about, no matter how much experience you have with the subject'."

Heather sighed. "I know I have a bias, but I'll put it to the side for now. Just this once, I'll hear you out. I know what someone looks and sounds like when they're being genuine. I want you to show me whether or not you're a monster."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Low bar to set, but okay. Normally you have to be a Level 5 friend or above to unlock my tragic backstory, but in acknowledgement of your awkward attempt to actually grow as a person, I'll make an exception. Ask me anything. I'll be as truthful as possible, even if it sucks to talk about. It'll make it as hard for you as it is for me."

Heather looked down at the floor, considering for a moment. "I want to hear about the greatest person you were in love with. Truly in love with. Someone you opened your heart and soul to, maybe even married. Tell me about them.

"I..." Chris looked off into the distance, and she could already see the pain in his face.

"You said anything-"

"Eli."

"Hmm?" Heather asked, caught off guard by his tone.

Chris cleared his throat, sitting up on the edge of his bed. He managed to look Heather in the face, but his leg bounced up and down with nervous energy as he spoke.

"His name was Eliot, but everyone called him Eli. He was... he was the only thing keeping me sane in a world that didn't make sense. And trust me, the world stopped making sense long before we had ever met. And when we did meet... I was in a bad place. But he accepted me. He kept up with me and my snark - you know how I can be, so you can imagine what those conversations were like. He was sweet though, too. Like if you gave him a compliment, even if you knew him well, he'd get all blushy and embarrassed about it... and he was super smart; he was the only reason I was ever able to finish a crossword puzzle. And we used to have the best conversations about everything and anything under the sun. And... he had so much love in his heart. Even in the times that I didn't fucking deserve him, where he should have kicked me to the curb, he told me he wanted to see me do better. That's all. He just wanted to see me be the best version of myself. And that's all I really could have asked for, especially back then. I loved him so much. And when the world fell apart, we tried to hold on, but..." He closed his eyes, losing the composure he was barely holding onto to begin with. "I will never forgive a single person involved in sparking that apocalypse. Ever. It took away everything from me. It took... a good fucking person. My person. And that's something I'll never get over, not as long as I live."

His lower lip quivered, and he put his head in his hands, finally letting the dam break. Heather found stray tears rolling down her cheeks, too. She had looked him in the eye and listened, as promised. And she had felt every word - the adoration, the love, the pain, the sorrow. It wasn't a trick, it wasn't a joke. It was the truth. She didn't know what to say. There was no real response to that, anyway.

She had expected an "I told you so" from Chris, but it didn't seem he was going to give her one. Not this time around, anyway. He simply wiped his tears away. It was then she started to notice how much even a week without blood was affecting him physically. There were dark circles under his eyes, stubble was slowly taking over his previously clean-shaven face, and his previously rich skin looked ashen. A shell of the man that she had met while shopping.

"Why don't you play some music?" Chris asked softly. "Something that can make us both forget how shitty our lives are."

Heather sniffed loudly, forcing back the stream that threatened to flood out of her nose, and pulled out her music pod. She hit shuffle, not bothering to connect it to her earbuds first. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the song that began to blast was an unapologetically sexual rap. She scrambled, quickly stopping it. Chris flopped back on his bed, his peals of laughter contagious this time - even if they were still technically at her expense.

"The fact that's the first song that played proves that life is just a tragic comedy."

"Maybe I'm better off just handpicking a song..."

Chris thought for a moment. "Got any Heaven O’Niell on there?"

Heather scoffed at the question. "Of course I do, I happen to possess a thing called taste."

"Yeah, I'll be the judge of that."

"You know I'm only doing this because I feel bad for you, right? I don't have to play anything."

"Wow, really? If I'd known the bar was set that low, I'd have pulled the dead husband card a lot sooner."

Heather wanted to be annoyed by the comment, but the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth said otherwise.

The rest of Heather's shift was quiet - all it took to get Chris to leave her alone was to spark a bit of a rapport with him. Or, maybe it was because his own depression had subdued him. Either way, he proved himself to be an exception to the rule. But that didn't make him any less dangerous. Despite his humor and his heart, she knew she had to keep him at arm's length. In the process of trying to see him for who he truly was, she'd made that even more difficult for herself. It was a double edged sword.

Josh was an especially welcome distraction that morning, falling into step with her as she made her way towards the women's locker room to collect her belongings.

"Hi, so um, how was your shift Heather?"

"Can't complain, I guess, since I got paid to stand around and do nothing for eight hours."

"Yeah, me too. I'm itching for some action."

"Be careful what you wish for."

She winked at him, and he gave her a dorky grin. Okay, he was cute - not sexy, barely even handsome at that, but cute. Like a puppy. He followed her around like one at the very least.

"So..."

The two of them paused in front of the locker rooms, Josh wringing his hands nervously.

"So...?" Heather replied, already knowing where this was going.

"I was wondering when your next day off is."

"Tuesday."

"Oh, me too! Um... would you like to go out and get dinner with me?"

Heather tried to muster up some surprise at the question, but honestly, it was far from unexpected. What she hadn't predicted was her answer. Any other day, she would have said no. But at that moment, she was just desperate enough.

"Sure."

Josh looked comically shocked, but quickly shook it off. "Oh! Okay! Um... I can pick you up at six?"

"Yeah, you know where I live, don't you?"

Josh nodded. "I- I'll see you then!"

He dashed into the men's locker room like his ass was on fire, causing Heather to laugh.

Heather woke up Tuesday evening feeling a little anxious. It was supposed to be such an easy, fun thing, but she still couldn't stamp out the nervous energy churning in her stomach. She powered through it, however, hyping herself up in the mirror as she got ready. And she did feel pretty, something that she didn't get to feel often. She let her long hair hang over her shoulders, putting on gold hoops, a white blouse, and her nicest pair of jean shorts. She agonized for a minute over what shoes to wear, before finally just grabbing a pair of leopard-print wedge heeled sandals. She also bothered to do a full makeup look; normally she didn't go past foundation and filling in her brows. She tried to put on eyeshadow. That turned out like a joke, so she wiped it off and stuck to eyeliner. And then, she turned to her lipstick collection, freezing when she saw the colors she'd been gifted on top of the pile. Images of the nightmare she'd had flooded her mind. She grabbed all seven tubes, throwing them in the garbage. After a deep shaking breath in and out, she went back to her makeup, deciding to just put on a clear gloss.

When she got downstairs, Rylan was laying on the couch, playing games on her phone as usual. Heather grabbed her purse, and the noise got the attention of her sister, who let out a low whistle.

"Wooow. That's a lot of effort for a date with fucking Josh Bolton."

Heather rolled her eyes. "Am I not allowed to have a good time every once in a while?"

"I mean..." Rylan thought for a moment. "I don't want to be mean, but-"

"That never stops you."

A small smirk formed on the younger woman's face. "Look. Josh is... he looks like a band kid. When he smiles, you expect to see two rows of shiny metal braces. If someone were to see you two doing PDA, you'd end up on a registry for sure."

"Who said anything about PDA?!"

"Oh please, you can't expect him not to shoot his shot. Trying to grab your hand in his sweaty little palms, but they're so wet and slippery that your hand just keeps flopping away, and then at the end of the night he's gonna chew 20 pieces of gum and try to kiss you. But like, leaning forward with fish lips."

She mimicked the action, and Heather watched, her arms crossed over her chest.

"You done?"

Rylan thought for a moment. "...Yeah, I got nothing else."

"Look, even if he's a little cringey, and granted too young for me, I'm not doing this for romance. I just want to be treated nicely by a guy, and he happens to be the only tangible option right now."

"What about Chris?"

Heather froze, trying not to let any emotion show on her face. "I said tangible, Ry."

"He'll be back soon..." Rylan sat back against the cushions, unpausing the game she'd been playing. "Hope he's okay out there. The world's a shitty, shitty place."

"Yeah. I hope he is too."

Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.

At least he was safe. Hungry and pacing around like a caged tiger, but safe. Heather said good night to Rylan before heading out, exiting her house just in time to see Josh pull up in the driveway. She was worried he was going to be wearing a suit or something embarrassing like that, but he actually looked normal. He'd even combed his swoopy hair back into a more mature style.

"Hope you're hungry," he said as she entered his car.

"Always am," Heather reassured him.

As expected, she did have a nice time, and it almost felt like they were friends hanging out as opposed to going on a date. They got dinner, went on a bus tour of historic Wilmington (at least, what was left of it), and finally walked along the riverwalk, eating ice cream they had gotten from a parlor. Just in front of them, blocking what was historically a view of the Cape Fear river, were the walls that separated their compound from the rest of the world. Walls she had resigned herself to never leaving long ago.

"So, I heard you're going to that dumb banquet next week," Josh said.

"Yeah," Heather replied, subtly licking away a droplet of cookies and cream running down her thumb. "It's because the Mayor wants to honor my mother, whatever that means."

"Oh..." Josh said. "Do you... know what happened to her? Sorry if that's a heavy question."

Heather sighed. She wasn't one to open up to just anybody, but Josh felt safe. Besides, he trusted her with his secrets, so it'd be awkward for her not to do the same.

"Well, she was working out of the prison a few years ago. I know she was doing research on the vampires, and how vampirism works as a disease, but that's about it. Then one night, she didn't come home. They searched the compound for her, but couldn't find her. One of the prisoners was missing too, so... I'd like to think she was just kidnapped, and now she's out there in the Outskirts, trying to find her way home. At least, that's what I hope. Call it wishful thinking."

"It's totally fine to think like that," Josh replied, sympathetic. "Nobody wants to assume someone they love is dead when there's no proof of what even happened to them. I mean, just look at my Uncle Georgie. He jumped off the bridge into the river and disappeared. People assumed he drowned or was grabbed by a mermaid or some other monster in the water. But we found out someone found his clothes on the other side of the bank, so we think he swam away."

"And left his clothes...?"

"Well, yeah. Nobody wants to walk around in wet clothes."

Heather chuckled. "Hopefully he's okay, wherever he is."

"Mmmhmm. My cousin Madalyn - not his daughter, my Uncle Jay's daughter - says he got abducted by aliens. Granted, Madalyn is crazier than a sack of cats. She thinks that our government is being controlled by a secret society and that hippopotamuses are the future of livestock because that's what they eat in Africa, apparently. Which strikes me as mildly racist but I don't know, I've never even been there."

"...I'm starting to think you're making some of these people up just to fuck with me.”

Josh laughed aloud at that. "God, I wish I was. So, what about your dad? I never hear about him."

Heather grimaced, thinking about her perpetually red-in-the-face father. "He... had an aneurysm when I was 19. Ry and I always joke he got so mad his head exploded."

"Oh. So I... take it you didn't have the best relationship..."

Heather shrugged. "I don't hate him, but I don't love him either. Not everything he did was bad, he definitely did nice stuff for me and Ry, but overall he was just really hard to live with. I think mom would have divorced him, but she spent so much time at work I guess she didn't get the full effect. Or maybe that's why she was always in the lab."

"Yeesh. That's hard. So, what happened after he died?"

"Nothing. Things just kind of… felt better almost. There was this overwhelming sense of relief since none of us would have to walk on eggshells in my own home anymore. That I wouldn't have to feel like a failure whenever I made a minor slip-up. Rylan and I would call him Tyrannosaurus rex for a reason - we read in one of her dinosaur books its name means Tyrant King, so it stuck. God, sorry, this is not the best thing to talk about right now."

"It's fine! Vent all you want. I'm listening."

Heather looked up at him, a genuine smile highlighting her face. This was exactly what she wanted. Someone who was sweet, understanding, who'd listen to her without judgement.

Too bad it was fucking Josh Bolton.

The two of them paused, sitting on a bench. They could see some of the sky, but most of their view was blocked by steel and stone. It wrapped around their compound tightly, though the riverwalk still stayed, as if the people who built the compound didn't have the heart to tear it down.

"I wish we had a better view of the sunset," Josh sighed.

Heather finished off her ice cream, looking up at the orange sky. "Maybe if we got up on top of a really tall building."

The two of them chuckled, but their contentment was interrupted by the distant sounds of screams. Heather jumped up, spinning around to face the streets behind them. She couldn't see much from where they were, but peeking up over the old shops and restaurants, she could see flickering light as orange as the sunset sky.

"Fire!" She yelled.

"What could have possibly started it?!" Josh said. "...Oh God, you don't think it's another witch?"

"Only one way to find out."

Heather ran towards the danger, Josh hesitating for a few seconds before he followed. It didn't take long for them to reach the source of the commotion, the heat becoming intense even before the flames were visible. On either side of the street, the buildings burned, even the ones which weren't feasibly flammable. Smoke billowed up above, dark gray and suffocating even in the open air. People tried to escape, screaming, but it seemed almost like the fire was chasing them. A man burst out of one of the shops, flames dancing throughout his body. He screamed in agony, throwing himself to the ground trying to put them out, but it wasn't long until he lay motionless.

In the center of the fray was a creature unlike Heather had ever seen. It seemed to be made out of pure flame, too bright to stare at for long, but even through squinted eyelids she could make out what almost appeared to be the face of a woman. Its eyes were wide and glowed with white hot flame, and its mouth was open in what appeared to be a scream, but no sound came out. Its whole ‘face’ appeared contorted with fury. It launched an arc of fire at her and Josh, and they dove out of the way, only to nearly stumble into more fire.

"Heather, we need to get out of here!" Josh cried, craning his neck to look at the people who were fleeing from the chaos.

Heather looked around, her heart pounding out of her chest. There had to be some way to get rid of it, anything. There were no fire hydrants nearby, and even if there were, it wasn’t as if she'd be able to open one up on her own. They couldn't wait for the fire department to come to the rescue either, though. Even if they did get there quickly, it'd be useless if the creature just kept spitting out more and more fire for them to fight. Suddenly, her brain hatched an idea. She turned to Josh.

"You help the civilians escape! I'll get rid of the monster!"

Before Josh could react, she ran into a building that hadn't been touched by flames yet, already abandoned by the people who'd been inside it. It was a restaurant; surely they had a fire extinguisher somewhere nearby. Sure enough, upon entering the kitchen, she found one mounted on the wall, sealed in a glass case. She punched it open, not bothering to try to figure out the proper way to remove it, and pulled it out. She didn't know if it was going to work, but the monster itself appeared to be composed of fire, so it was worth a shot.

She ran back outside, nearly suffocated by the heat of the approaching flames. The creature was slowly but surely making its way down the street, its expression unchanging. Heather stepped closer, activating the fire extinguisher.

"Eat CO2, bitch!"

She aimed the nozzle straight for the creature as she fired, shrouding it in a cloud of white foam. She heard a confused screech, and some of the flames started to recede. She didn't know if it was just startled or if her plan was truly working, but not taking any chances, she continued to spray, slowly moving in its direction. She didn't stop until the nozzle sputtered out the last puffs of compressed gas. She was standing right over where the creature had been, a pile of cold foam the only thing remaining. A thin blue glow pulsed from underneath it. A tiny sprite-like being that possessed the same agonized face popped out, looking much less intimidating now that it wasn't shooting deadly flames. It hissed at Heather before running off, disappearing into thin air. She raised an eyebrow, more confused than frightened.

The fire brigade finally arrived, several firefighters jumping out of their trucks to assess the situation and set up equipment. The fire didn't seem so bad now the creature causing it was gone, but it had still left a path of devastation almost all the way up the street. A firefighter walked up to her, and she was about to say something, but he simply tsked.

"C'mon, lady, a little thing like that won't put out a fire as out of control as this! Didn't your school teach you about fire safety? Now come on, the Tactical Team will escort you to-"

Heather, repressing the urge to smack him over the head with the empty fire extinguisher, simply threw it to the ground and stomped off. It was unclear what had truly set her off - the way he was talking to her like her brain was made of mashed potatoes, or the fact that he had brought up the Tactical Team. Emerging from the center of the chaos, she found Josh standing with a group of people. Some of them looked shaken up, but otherwise, they were the ones who'd made it out scot free.

"Heather! You're okay!" Josh cried.

He hugged her, and she was startled by it, but still gave him a brief hug back.

"Did you kill it?" He asked.

"No, it's still alive, just not as destructive. But who's to say whether or not it will be back? We need to put everything on lockdown and-"

"That's not exactly up for you to decide."

The familiar voice sent a shiver up Heather's spine. She turned to face Julia, who had pulled up with the rest of the Tactical Team. She looked entirely unimpressed, as if she weren't surrounded by burning buildings and traumatized civilians.

"This is an unprecedented situation," she continued. "You don't have to concern yourself with it unless we send people to your prison. I wouldn't forget your place, Hall. Talking to these civilians like you have the authority is... unprofessional."

Heather balled up her hand into a fist. Fifteen years ago, she would have punched Julia in the face, but now as a mature adult woman she realized lashing out wouldn't exactly help her case. Instead, she took a deep breath, grounding herself.

"I was just thinking out loud; more in the hypothetical sense. I understand I'm just a guard and have no place in devising plans to help the people of New Wilmington, even if my job is to protect them. But that's not important. What we can do now is discuss what exactly everyone saw... in private."

Julia's face remained stony. She started walking off, and Heather was confused for a moment, until the other woman looked over her shoulder with an expression that read ‘follow me, idiot.’ Heather obliged. Julia led her to an isolated alleyway.

"Well?" Julia asked.

Heather explained the whole situation - the creature, what it was doing, how she had killed it (though she left out the one liner because in retrospect it was pretty ridiculous) - and studied Julia to see if there was any change.

"It's unfortunate we don't know much about these creatures, even after all these years," Julia remarked. "Though I guess there's not much time for studying when you're having to fight to survive."

"I think it had something to do with witches or magic," Heather suggested. She thought back for a moment on the witch that had been strung up in the middle of town, her face almost reminiscent of the one the creature possessed. "...It might have something to do with the one we executed recently."

Julia's face twitched for a brief second, so fast Heather thought she had imagined it. The soldier managed to maintain a stoic appearance.

"That'll be for my team and I to decide."

"Julia, did you have any nightmares after you killed the witch?"

It wasn't meant to be a malicious or rude question; she was genuinely curious. If she'd had such a horrible nightmare after simply witnessing the event, then surely Julia was having full blown night terrors. But Julia did not seem to take it that way. She picked up Heather by the collar of her shirt, slamming her against the wall. Heather gasped, her hands instinctively moving to clasp Julia's wrists. Any hint of resolve was out the window, now replaced by fury which rivaled that of the monster that had just tried to burn down the compound.

"I try to be cordial with you," Julia growled, "I really fucking do. But you've been testing my patience lately. You keep your nose where it belongs and stay the fuck out of my way, or so help me God it's gonna be a bloodbath. Next time you piss me off, I'm not letting you walk away with just a few bruises to show for it."

She dropped Heather to the ground, who sat still for a moment, almost too shocked to be angry. Her former classmate stalked away, returning to the stone faced demeanor she showed to everyone. Now Heather knew that was a lie. She was still as angry and messed up as she had been when they were young.

After everything was wrapped up, Heather got driven home by Josh. For the first time all night, they remained silent. Heather's leg bounced nervously, her thoughts haunted by the witch.. What a joke to think she could actually catch a break for once. Her whole life was a tornado, and she was caught in the middle of the chaos, being pummeled by flying debris. Josh pulled into the driveway, and they sat there a moment, still not speaking. Josh drummed his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, the gears in his mind visibly turning.

"So..." He said.

"So...?" Heather replied.

"I uh, I had a nice time tonight. You know, until the whole..."

Heather smiled a little. "Yeah, me too actually."

"And it was pretty badass, the way you murdered it and everything. I was scared, I'll admit it, but you didn't even hesitate. You're like... Wonder Woman. Or Supergirl. Or Batgirl... we'll go with Batgirl, she's my favorite."

Heather chuckled. "Thanks."

Just as Rylan had predicted hours earlier, he leaned forward with his lips puckered and eyes shut tight, attempting to initiate a kiss. Heather's fight or flight response kicked in. For a moment, she was tempted to open the car door and bolt, but she didn't want to be that mean. If she wanted to reject him, it should be in words, not actions. But she also didn't feel like having a whole conversation about it, not after what had happened. So instead, she compromised, leaning forward but turning her head so his lips touched her cheek. He seemed more than happy with this, and pulled away smiling, his blush visible even in the low light.

"I- I'll uh, see you at work tomorrow."

"It's a date," Heather said.

She climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind her. She didn't let out the sigh of relief she was holding until the taillights of his old green Chevy disappeared out of view. When she entered the house, she expected Rylan to be all over her, asking her if she was okay and what had happened. But those expectations were a bit too high. Rylan was exactly where Heather had left her, splayed out in an unflattering position on the couch, out cold with her mouth hanging open and her glasses pushed up on top of her head. Heather kicked the side of the couch, and her sister awoke with a jolt, her glasses falling and bouncing off the bridge of her nose.

"Who the fuck-?! Oh, hey hermana."

"Ry, I called you like five times!"

"What happened? Oh my God, he didn’t try to cop a feel, did he?!"

"No! ...Thank God. But things did go down. Read your news app, for God's sake."

"Oh, so you did get put on a registry."

"Rylan!"

"Okay, okay, Jesus."

She picked up her phone, her eyes gradually widening as she read about what had happened downtown.

"It's gone - for now," Heather said, "I guess I managed to 'put it out'. But Lord knows when it's coming back, and I have no faith in the Tactical Team's response."

"Oh, let me guess, they marched around with a bunch of bravado and yelled at people to stand back."

"Pretty much. And when I spoke up about what I thought it was, Certified Crazy Bitch Julia Rodriguez did this."

She pointed to her right shoulder, where her skin already formed a large purple bruise from where Julia’s knuckles had dug into her flesh. Rylan gasped, jumping up from the couch.

"Oh, that fucking whore! I know some big guys, I can get her jumped for that."

"Are you kidding me...?! She'd murder them."

Rylan let herself laugh a little at the joke, but quickly went back to being serious. "Dude, what's her problem?"

"I have no idea. I haven't seen her that mad in years. I mean, I knew the old Julia had to be in there somewhere, but Jesus. I think that witch must be getting to her head. She's the one who shot her, after all."

Rylan bowed her head. "Whatever it is, she deserves it."

"Ugh, I'm gonna go lay down," Heather groaned.

"Um, not until you tell me about the non life-threatening parts of your date you're not! I'll break out the chips."

Heather knew she wasn't going to escape that conversation, so she relented, sitting down at the kitchen table with her sister.

Heather didn't sleep well. She tossed and turned, her mind haunted with images of the Pyromancer and the witch. They had to be connected somehow, but in what way? She probably wouldn't be able to find out through any written source. They knew more about the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean than they did about magic. But that didn't mean there was nobody who did. The ones privy to the information just weren't human.

Granted, it was a gamble assuming Chris knew much more about it than she did. She was only going off it by two factors: For one, he was a vampire, and secondly, if he was being truthful about the year he was born, that would make him over 130 years old. Surely he had to have picked up some knowledge in that amount of time. He certainly acted like he knew everything, anyway.

She entered the cell, finding Chris on the bed. He was curled up, and almost looked like he was asleep, though she knew he was about as nocturnal as she was. She dismissed the guard that was stationed before walking up to the glass, getting as close as she dared.

"Have you heard about what happened last night?"

"You realize I’m locked in this cell 24/7, right?" Chris asked, his voice resonating in a lazy baritone. "I'm not exactly in the loop."

"I'll explain in a minute. I just need to ask you... what do you know about witches?"

Chris seemed to immediately snap out of whatever stupor he was in, and rolled partially onto his back, his head lolling towards her. "I'm sorry, what about them, exactly?"

"I think these two things are connected, but I don't know enough about magic to be sure. Can you identify this?"

She went to pull up a picture of the creature on her phone - how anyone had time to take photos of the fire while they were running for their lives, she had no idea - and Chris approached her, one eyebrow raised.

"What do I look like, Google? You think you can just ask me anything and I'll know what it is because I'm a fucking vampire?"

Heather looked up at him. "Yes. Also because you're older than graveyard dirt and have been living in the Outskirts for decades."

Chris snorted. "Fair enough."

She finally found a decent photo, zooming in on the creature in it before pressing her screen to the glass. Chris leaned forward, his dark eyes squinting as he examined the image. Seeing him up close like that really hammered in how starved he was, but she quickly repressed the feelings of guilt that cropped up over it.

"Uh... I think I might know, but it's very rare. Extremely rare. I've never seen one in person, just read about them."

"Well, what is it then?"

Chris scratched the stubble on his chin, looking up towards the ceiling. "You wouldn't happen to have pissed off any witches lately, have you...?" He leveled an accusatory look at her.

Heather couldn't meet his gaze, looking towards the far wall. "That's what I figured. We must be cursed."

"Oh Lord, what did you do?"

Heather dished out the details of the witch's death, and how the mysterious monster had appeared and ravaged the city. Chris drank in the information, nodding slowly, like he was a student listening to a particularly interesting lecture.

"Ah, okay, I see what the problem is. You've got a vengeful spirit on your hands. Or, well, even worse than a vengeful spirit - it's the vengeful spirit of a witch. So you're right, that must be the one you publically murdered."

"Oh, God. Are you serious?"

"As a heart attack. They’re nicknamed Bonnets - after the first recorded person this happened to. Makes them sound benign but they’re really not; they’re beings of pure energy, fueled by magic and spite. They were way more common back when public witch trials were mainstream among backwards fucks like the Puritans. They’re not like ghosts who simply leave impressions of strong emotions, though, they actively seek revenge against those who wronged them. So yeah, basically your whole compound is cursed now. Congratulations."

Heather put her head in her hands. "Fantastic. What kind of curse is it?"

"How should I know? She doesn't have a rational mind anymore."

Heather thought for a moment, contemplating whether or not she should dish out the information. Then again, she wasn't alone in the dream she'd had, and it didn't reveal much about her personally. "...Would it be normal for a curse to involve nightmares?"

Chris, who had leaned against the glass, suddenly straightened up. "I mean, it's not unheard of for a witch who died tragically to do something like that, even post-mortem. Magic outlives the flesh vessel, even in witches who don't become Bonnets. And it’s linked heavily to emotion; and strong emotion leads to strong magic, which leaves an impact. The nightmares can really tell you what the source of their pain is; it's almost like a key for laying them to rest. Not part of the curse so much as a self defense mechanism. So her spirit doesn't simply want revenge, she wants to rest!"

"Then maybe you can help me out for once."

"Only if you tell me what you saw."

"I..." Heather couldn't bring herself to say much. She cast her gaze towards the floor, finally summoning the courage to relive what she'd seen. "I was in some kind of ceremony within a Coven of witches. They... fed me some kind of potion, branded my neck, and then I jumped into the river. That's the thick and thin of it."

Chris's expression changed from one of placid curiosity to general horror. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He moved away from the glass, raking a hand through his thick black hair as he began to pace.

"But Heretic witches can't do magic, where does the Heretic situation come in?!"

"What even is a Heretic, exactly?" Heather asked.

Chris paused, still visibly unnerved. "It's... a witch who committed treason against their Coven. They get their magic stripped away. Mostly in Covens that worship Greco-Roman Gods and Goddesses, and mostly way back when nobody washed their ass, though it's still practiced by some Covens to this day. Mainly the Greek ones."

"What would you even have to do?"

"Something bad. At least, bad in their eyes, to the point where excommunication isn't enough. They feel they're worthy to take away your magic. But riddle me this, who’s the Heretic here?"

Heather remembered what the witch was yelling before she died. "She... Her sister was the Heretic! She was crying for her, acting like someone had promised her something. I think her sister might actually be here, in this prison."

Chris sighed, crossing his arms. "Great. Cool. Fantastic."

He once again paced around, this time mumbling to himself.

"So...?" Heather asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Chris said. "Let the vampire go, and the witch will find peace and leave."

Heather frowned. "There's no way in hell we would ever do that."

"Then perish," Chris said.

He stalked back over to his bed, flopping down just as dramatically as always. Heather looked towards the door, moving into position.

"...That's it?" Chris asked. "You're just not going to do anything?"

"What can I do?" Heather asked. "It's my job to protect these people, but... I can't protect them from two conflicting things at once. And if I tell anyone what you told me, they wouldn't take me seriously anyway. I'm just a grunt."

"A cog in a machine," Chris agreed. "But you could just as easily be a monkey wrench."

"I guess I could try to talk to the Mayor, but I don't know how she'll react. She and Julia - the soldier who shot the witch - were right there, and Mayor Townsend almost used it as a PR campaign."

"That's suspicious," Chris said.

"I thought so too, but..."

"You don't want to. I get it, but consider for a moment. You have a witch whose sister is imprisoned here, and a Mayor who happened to be in the right place at the right time to have her publicly executed. Something smells."

"Reeks," Heather growled. "God, I don't know how I can face her next week."

"What do you mean? Does she have you guys come lick her boots once a month in some kind of authority suck-off ceremony?"

"You're not funny."

"I'm very funny. And you didn't answer my question."

Heather sighed heavily. "It's a Banquet to honor the researchers of our compound. Rylan and I got invited because our mother was a scientist. Or maybe it's just an elaborate attempt to embarrass us because there's no way we could afford to blend in with the upper crust for a night."

Chris licked his lips, considering for a second. "...If you're desperate enough, you could take a couple hundred from my satchel."

Heather whipped around. "Are you serious?!"

"What? You act like stealing shit from prisoners isn't normal. But this isn't even stealing, per se, this is just me throwing you some pity cash."

Heather narrowed her eyes. "I don't need your pity cash. Besides, how would I even explain it?"

"Uh, that you stole it from a prisoner?"

"I never agreed with that in the first place."

Chris shook his head. "You have weird morals, sweetheart. Well, offer's still on the table if you want it. Show up and stunt. Let that miserable sack of bones know you're more than just a meatheaded prison guard."

"And maybe she'll take it more seriously if I confront her..." Heather said, knowing good and well it would never work. If Mayor Townsend was truly involved, that meant she knew good and well that messing with that witch could potentially put all the people she was in charge of in danger.

"Just keep your eyes peeled," Chris said. "Stay woke, as they used to say. And remember, history favors a whistleblower, but governments rarely do."

Heather gave a small nod before turning back to the door. She knew how to deal with monsters. But what was she supposed to do when the humans supposed to be keeping her safe were just as bad?