Two boys walked through the cemetery [https://em.wattpad.com/99ea080e901339356bf3a874dca68ed7ba9893bf/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f6c4845734e526f52494532584b513d3d2d3933383337393339342e3136326331366332376566623139613935393339323039323437382e706e67?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

Two boys walked through the cemetery. One tall, one slightly short. The taller, in black jeans and a dark jacket, wore a baseball cap turned backwards, the brim over the back of his neck. Wide, frightened eyes, a fey splash of blue and yellow, scanned the headstones, the monuments, as if expecting zombies to rise at any moment.

The shorter seemed much more at ease, a case of beer propped on one shoulder. Despite his tank top and swim shorts, he seemed immune to the slight chill of the summer night. A shaft of moonlight fell on his face, and his skin gleamed, unnaturally pale, as if the cold light had stripped away his color.

The other boy didn’t seem to notice, still looking all around. “I-I’m not so sure about this.”

“Don’t be a baby,” the other laughed. “It’s right up ahead.”

Sure enough, a blast of laughter floated up from the open door of a mausoleum. The boy with beer kept walking, but the other slowed.

Looking down the dark stairway, he stammered, “In-in there?”

A spasm of frustration crossed the other’s face. With his free hand, he reached up to his eyes. Popping out contacts.

The boy in the backwards hat started backing up. “What are you doing?”

Cold fingers were suddenly closing around his chin, even though they had been several feet apart only seconds ago, forcing him to look down into black eyes.

“We’re just going to party,” came a sibilant whisper laced with power. “Calm down.”

Tension ran from the tall boy’s body, hazel eyes drooping.

The black-eyed ‘boy’ smiled, sharklike. “Much better.” Crooking a finger at the enthralled, he turned and sauntered down the steps. The tall boy shuffled after him.

The crypt boasted two coffins, just high enough off the ground to sit on. Several figures were. On the left sat two more creatures with obsidian eyes, each with blank-eyed prey of their own.

Raising his mouth from the neck of his victim, the one on the right coffin drawled, “Finally.”

“I brought beer,” said the newcomer cheerfully.

“What good is that to us?” The female asked with brow arched.

Deflating a little, he said, “They can drink it, then we’ll drink it from them.”

She rolled her eyes, but he was undeterred. Setting the case down, he turned to the tall boy he’d brought with him, still standing obediently behind him.

“But first I need a little pickmeup.” He stood up on tiptoes to reach the boy’s neck.

Only to pull back, gagging, a syringe sticking out of his chest. He gaped down at it, then crumpled to the ground. No one moved, staring like they expected some sort of punchline.

The tall boy raised a hand to the back of his neck, the hat’s brim concealing the hilt of a sword. Knocking off the hat to reveal a messy cap of golden curls, he unsheathed a gently curving saber and raised his head.

To their black vision, his eyes were glowing bright blue.

The one who’d first spoken hissed, “Slayers!” and leaped from the coffin.

.

.

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Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

As the milquetoast personality I’d been affecting faded away, I was ready.

The vampire came on in a blur of motion, a speeding train barreling down on me. Fighting the Damned is like avoiding a car crash. At such speeds there’s only an instant to react.

But that’s also true for the driver.

Right as he was upon me, a second before he plowed me into an insect-smear, I pivoted. I was suddenly behind him. My sword, glowing blue with Spirit, cleaved through his skin, his bones, severing his head.

He didn’t even have time to scream as his body exploded in a plume of ash, lit from within with a spectral light. Like matter meeting antimatter, Spirit meeting Shadow always burned the bodies to a crisp. It revealed them for the abominations they are. (Convenient, too. No clean up.)

Another came shrieking through the air, but I was more than prepared for the oldest trick in the book. I didn’t try to avoid her path. I leapt up into it, swinging my sword up then down in an arc through the center of her chest. Ash rained on me as I landed.

Head and heart. The only ways to be sure.

One cried out, panic-stricken. He tried to blur past me, but a wall of azure fire flared to life before the entrance of the mausoleum. There was only time for him to let out one abortive shout before creaming into it, going up in smoke. Superspeed definitely had a downside.

A tall figure stepped through the flames, coming down the steps with stately grace, a panther with a glowing sword. The burning flicker behind him lit the back of his head, gifting the same honey-colored curls he’d given to me with a blue halo. He was dressed all in black, like me, but in leather instead of denim. Our resemblance was something I’d always been proud of. Maybe someday my lithe frame would pack on muscle like him.

Without a word, he reached the bottom of the stairs, and swung his saber into position as we stood side-by-side. In our matching black we must have looked like the Seraphs from the Arc. Ole Dad always did like to make an entrance.

Our outfits didn’t hide our faces. There was no reason to. No one would be able to tell anyone what they had seen tonight.

“Don’t move!” The last vampire had picked up one of their intended victims, a boy in a slouchy hat. He was so dazed from enthrallment he didn’t struggle, not even to claw at the fingers around his neck. “Take one more step, and he dies!”

He was trying to sound tough, but even if I hadn’t been trained in body language, the nervous way his eyes pinged between my sword and Dad’s would have been obvious to anyone.

“You are already dead.” Dad’s quiet certainty filled the room. “Accept this, and restore the natural order.”

The vampire’s eyes rested on Dad for just a beat too long. Seizing the opportunity, I slashed my sword horizontally through the air fast enough to leave a blue streak. Before it faded, I brought the blade down through it. Right at the intersection of the two blue lines, I pushed, focusing all my intention on the gesture.

The inner spark inside every living creature was already surging through me, or else my blade couldn’t glow, but I aimed another pulse of Spirit out of my soul, down my arm, through my blade, and used the motion of my sword to thrust it toward the Damned.

The Spark flared to life, shooting outward, and taking the cross I’d carved in the air with it. The lines splayed out behind it in the shape of an arrowhead. The centerpoint struck the vampire square in the face, and his head erupted, a blue-tinged volcano spewing into the air. His body dissolved before it hit the ground.

With a thud, the boy collapsed. He lay there unmoving. Dad strode forward, turning him face-up and leaning over him. Placing both hands on either side of his head, Dad tipped the boy’s face, gently placed their mouths together, and breathed. There was a reason believers used to greet each other with the Kiss of Peace.

In my true sight, where all Spirit is visible, I saw the trickle of blue leave Dad and enter the boy. He coughed, then moaned, rolling on his side.

“He okay?” I asked.

Dad nodded, standing up. “He’ll be fine. Help me with the others.”

Two other teenagers, still sitting on top of the caskets where the vampires had left them, gazed at us with glossy eyes. Now that their would-be masters were dead, the thrall would eventually wear off. A little infusion of Spirit would make sure there were no side effects, and speed the healing process for any vampiric wounds they might have.

Dad pressed his lips against a girl with spiky pig-tails, leaving the boy in a bomber jacket for me. This was completely routine, nothing weird about it. Even so, I made sure Dad wasn’t looking before leaning over the other boy.

I touched my lips to his just barely enough to make contact. Then, steeling my nerves, I breathed a wisp of Spirit into his mouth. His eyes fluttered closed, and I popped back up. As I watched, just to be sure, the wound at his neck stopped bleeding.

“Shall we go?” Dad asked.

“Hold on.” The case of beer had been knocked over in the scuffle, but I found a few cans in the box and started pouring them over the three civilians. “Just in case they remember anything. They’ll just think they got too drunk.”

Dad smiled. “Nice thinking.”

I tossed the last empty can, and turned to him. “Okay, that’ll do.”

As I joined him, I flicked Old Blue down through the neck of the one I dosed with animal blood, still laying in a heap where I’d left him. The blood leaking from his mouth had already faded from its stolen human red to the true black of vampire ichor (he must not have been very old; animal blood was usually only a tranquilizer, not a poison), but we couldn’t leave any evidence.

Once his body went up, the glow faded from my saber to reveal her matte blue finish. I felt a pang as I resheathed her. This was probably our last battle together.

Dad and I walked up the steps out of the crypt. The fire had vanished as soon as Dad had released his Spark. Once outside he threw an arm around my shoulders.

“Nice use of the arrow,” he said as we came up into the cemetery. “I haven’t seen you use that one for a few.”

“Takes too long.” I played it cool, but was happy he remarked on it. “There’s rarely enough time to double slash like that in the field.”

“True. Happy Birthday, by the way,” he said. “It’s officially past midnight. You’re a man, now.”

“...Thanks,” I said, hiding my unease.

You’re a man, now. Was I? I didn’t feel any different, just felt like me. What did ‘a man’ even feel like?

“Kind of a let down for our last mission together, huh?” I changed the subject. “I mean, hanging out in cemeteries? Who even does that anymore?”

His hand tightened on my shoulder. “Spending time with you is never a let down. It’ll be two years before we can really do this again, and by then you’ll be a knight in your own right.”

“I hope so,” I mumbled.

“I know so,” he said, confident. “The Saints have been doing it this way for two thousand years. Must be a reason.”

“You’re right.” I tried to sound as sure as he did. “And, uh, Evan’s still onboard?”

“Of course.” Dad cast a look at me. “Why wouldn’t he be?”

“No reason,” I said, avoiding his eyes.

“It’s a long drive home,” Dad said after a beat. “You should get some sleep on the road. Big day tomorrow.”