Kate lowered me onto the couch with surprising gentleness, her strong, tattooed arms carefully maneuvering me until I sank into the cushions with a relieved sigh. My leg throbbed, the pain sharper now that the adrenaline had faded.

Helena was already digging through the first aid kit, pulling out antiseptic and fresh bandages. She knelt beside me, her pale face set in concentration as she poured the antiseptic over the wound. The sting was immediate and brutal. I sucked in a breath, my fingers gripping the couch.

“Hold still,” she muttered, her tone firm but not unkind. “This is gonna hurt.”

No kidding. My jaw tightened, but I forced myself to stay quiet. A stupid part of me wanted to pretend I could handle it, that this pain was nothing compared to what I’d already been through. But my body had other ideas, every nerve screaming as she worked.

I focused on the others instead.

Kate was pacing near the door, her handgun still in her grip, her restless energy filling the space. Samantha stood by the window, her tall, broad-shouldered silhouette tense as she peered through a crack in the boarded-up glass. Diana, ever the quiet observer, had settled into an armchair, flipping through the journal they’d taken from Frankenstein’s lab.

After a few agonizing minutes, Helena tied off the last bandage with a decisive tug. “That should hold for now. At least until we get you back to the church.”

I exhaled, glancing down at my leg. The bandage was already starting to soak through with blood, but at least it was better than before. “Thanks,” I muttered, my voice rough.

Kate suddenly stopped pacing and turned to face me, her arms crossed over her muscular frame. Her tattoos peeked out from under her sleeves. “Alright, spill. What the hell happened back there?” Her eyes locked onto mine, unyielding. “And don’t even try to brush it off. I saw those roots in your hands. And what you did to that gremlin… that wasn’t normal.”

Samantha was watching me now, her expression unreadable but intense. Even Helena had leaned back on her heels, arms crossed, her gaze expectant.

They wanted answers.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of their stares. Stay calm.

"I meant what I said earlier—after the explosion that took my hand," I began, keeping my voice steady despite the pain in my leg. "I’ve been trying to learn alchemy, to actually get better at it. To be more than just... helpless. But after what happened at the church, I realized I couldn’t do it alone. I needed help."

I held up my hands, the faint, branching lines beneath my skin visible. "These roots—they’re not some random mutation or curse. They’re a tool."

Kate raised an eyebrow, skepticism written all over her face. "So you’re saying you’re not turning into some kind of monster? Because that’s my main concern."

I shook my head. "No. This isn’t some out-of-control transformation. It’s deliberate. And I know it’s hard to trust me right now, but when we get back to the church, I’ll show you. I’ll demonstrate the alchemy—properly this time. No explosions. No mistakes."

Silence settled over the room. Doubt clear in most of their eyes.

Diana broke it first, flipping a page in the journal loudly, the sound sharp in the stillness of the room. Her dark eyes stayed fixed on the text, brow furrowed as she traced a line with her finger. The others turned toward her, momentarily shifting their focus from me.

Kate sighed, finally giving up on pacing. She dropped onto the floor, leaning against the wall with her legs stretched out, boots scuffing the wooden boards. Her handgun rested loosely in her lap, though her fingers kept tapping against the grip.

"So," she said, breaking the silence, "what now? We just sit here?"

Samantha, still by the window, pulled her gaze from the crack in the boards. "We stay the night," she said firmly. "Moving Max in his condition is too risky, and we can’t handle another ambush in the dark. We’ll take shifts on watch."

Helena, perched on the arm of the couch, nodded. "Makes sense. I’ll take first watch. You all look like you need the rest." Her tone was dry, but there was a quiet concern beneath it.

No one argued. We were all exhausted.

Samantha checked her handgun one last time before holstering it. "Alright. Helena, wake me when your shift’s up."

Helena gave a lazy salute. "Will do."

Diana, still immersed in the journal, didn’t look up as she spoke. "I’ll take third watch."

Kate rolled her shoulders with a wince. "Guess that leaves me with last shift. Lucky me."

Satisfied with the plan, Samantha finally stepped away from the window, heading toward the corner of the room where a pile of blankets lay—ones my brother and I had left behind when we moved to the church.

*****

The early morning light filtered through the trees, casting long shadows across the forest road. The minivan sat idling, its engine a low hum beneath the sound of the chainsaw roaring in the near distance. I sat in the backseat, my leg propped up on the seat beside me, the bandages Helena had applied last night still holding firm. The pain had dulled to a steady ache, but my mind was anything but calm.

Helena was keeping watch outside, her sharp green eyes scanning the treeline, while Diana leaned against the van, her hands full of pouches with coins in them, her expression unreadable as she counted their contents. Apparently the gremlins we killed had silver and gold coins with them. Gremlins dropping gold – as if we didn’t live in a big enough fantasy world already.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Through the windshield, I could see Samantha and Kate working together to cut through the massive tree blocking the road. Samantha’s shoulders strained as she guided the chainsaw, her movements precise and efficient. Kate stood nearby, ready to help haul the cut sections out of the way.

I should’ve been out there helping. But my leg made that impossible, and the others had made it clear I wasn’t to move unless absolutely necessary. So here I was, stuck in the van, left alone with my thoughts.

And my thoughts were loud.

They’d be worried, my family. No, worried was an understatement. They’d be frantic. I’d disappeared for a whole night, again. First the explosion, now this. How many times could I put them through this before they started to resent me?

But it wasn’t my fault. Not really. I couldn’t have known we’d get ambushed by gremlins, couldn’t have predicted the trees falling, trapping us. I’d made the best decision I could at the time. That had to count for something, right? Still, the guilt gnawed at me, a quiet, insidious thing that I couldn’t quite shake.

What am I going to tell them?

The question annoyed me. I couldn’t tell them the truth—not yet. Not about Bryndrel, not about the Splicing, not about the roots. They’d never understand. They’d see it as just another reckless decision, another example of me putting myself in danger without thinking about the consequences.

The chainsaw’s roar cut off abruptly, snapping me out of my thoughts. I looked up to see Samantha stepping back from the tree, the largest section now cut and ready to be moved. Kate moved in, grabbing one of the cut sections of the tree and dragging it off the road with a grunt.

For a moment, I felt a pang of envy. They moved with such purpose, such confidence. They didn’t second-guess themselves the way I did. They didn’t leave their families wondering if they were alive.

Or maybe they did? What did I even know about them? Nothing.

I shifted in my seat, wincing as the movement jostled my leg. The bandages were holding, but the wound still throbbed. The time for Jackson to heal it couldn’t come soon enough.

Eventually, the van door opened, and Kate climbed into the driver’s seat, her movements brisk. “Road’s clear,” she said, her tone clipped. “We’re heading back.”

No one said much as Kate started the engine and pulled onto the road, the van bumping over the uneven surface.

I leaned my head against the window, watching the trees blur past. My thoughts circled back to my family, to the worry I knew would be etched on their faces when I finally walked through the church doors. They’d been through so much already, and I kept adding to their burden. But what choice did I have? I couldn’t stop now, not when I was so close to understanding alchemy.

The van rumbled along the forest road, the tension inside palpable. No one spoke, each of us lost in our own thoughts with the music from the radio as a background. It felt almost peaceful, if not for the lingering unease that clung to us after the gremlin ambush.

Suddenly the music stopped. It was a news broadcast, the tone urgent and grim.

“A military barracks in Belford was reportedly set ablaze late last night. The cause of the fire is still under investigation, but early reports suggest it may have been an act of sabotage. Casualties are unknown at this time, but authorities are urging anyone with information to come forward. The barracks housed several units, including—"

Samantha, sitting in the passenger seat, stiffened. Her jaw tightened, and her hands clenched into fists. "Belford," she muttered, her voice low. "That's where our old unit was stationed."

Helena, sitting behind me, leaned forward, her sharp green eyes narrowing. "You think someone we knew was there?"

Samantha didn’t answer immediately. Her gaze was fixed on the road ahead, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. "It’s possible," she said finally. "But there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’re not exactly in a position to investigate."

The van fell silent again, the weight of the news hanging over us like a storm cloud. I could see the worry etched on their faces, the unspoken fear that someone they cared about might have been caught in the fire.

A few tense minutes later, the van rumbled to a stop in front of the church, tires crunching over loose gravel. The engine cut off, leaving only the faint rustle of wind through the trees.

Kate was the first to hop out, circling around to my side before I could even try to stand on my own. “C’mon,” she muttered, offering me a shoulder. I took it happily—my leg felt like it had been through a meat grinder.

As we stepped onto the lot, we spotted someone sitting on the church steps. The slumped figure barely moved, just a hunched shadow against the early morning light. It wasn’t until we got closer that recognition hit.

Jackson.

Even from a distance, something was wrong. His usual calm, collected demeanor was shattered. He sat hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped together as if in prayer. His clothes were rumpled, stained by something dark.

Samantha was the first to react. She stepped forward, her voice steady but edged with concern. “Jackson?”

He didn’t move.

She took another step, this time firmer. “What happened?”

Slowly, he lifted his head. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with exhaustion. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse, raw.

“They’re gone,” he rasped. “They took them. Killed them.”

A chill settled over us. Kate’s grip on my arm tightened. She was stock-still, her whole body wired with tension.

He let his clasped hands fall apart—and that’s when we saw it. The dried blood smeared across his fingers, caked beneath his nails.

Helena swore under her breath. “Shit.”

Kate stiffened beside me. “Jackson,” she said carefully, shifting so she was between him and me, “whose blood is that?”

Jackson paused for a moment to take a steadying breath. His hands trembled as he stared down at the blood staining his fingers, his voice low and hollow when he finally spoke. "It's... it's not mine," he said, his words heavy with grief. "They came last night. I don’t know how many. I was in my office when I heard the screaming. Gunshots. Chaos. I tried to get out, to help, but..." He trailed off, his gaze distant, as if reliving the moment. "There was a vampire. Blocking the door. It just stood there, staring at me. It didn’t attack, didn’t move closer. It was like... like it was afraid of me, but it wouldn’t let me past. I don’t know why."

He swallowed hard, his throat working as he fought to keep his composure. "I couldn’t do anything. I was trapped. I could hear everything—the screams, the fighting. And then... it just stopped. The vampire left, like it was called away. When I finally got out, the hall was empty. Everyone was gone. Just... bodies. A few of them. The rest... taken."

His voice broke, and he looked up at us, his eyes filled with a mixture of guilt and despair. "I ran outside, but it was too late. I saw vehicles driving away into the night. I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t save them."

A cold dread crept through me. My family. Were they among the taken? The dead? My mind raced.

Samantha stepped forward, her voice firm but gentle. "Jackson, who’s gone? Who did they take?"

He shook his head, his shoulders slumping. "I don’t know everyone. It was chaos. But... your dad, Max," he said, his eyes meeting mine. “He must have fought back. It’s better if you don’t go inside, not yet.”

I felt Kate’s grip on my arm tighten, holding me upright as my legs threatened to give out. My chest tightened, I completely forgot how to vocalize anything. This couldn’t be happening.

My vision blurred, and I felt like the ground had been ripped out from under me. My father. Dead. The man who had always been there, who had always tried to protect us, was gone. And the others—my brother, my mother—taken.