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VIRTUE is moving (!!!)

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"When you live a life dedicated to pain and bloodshed, things like violence, grief, and death become nothing more than a blur. When you spend every waking hour battling the forces of Hell and darkness, the line between good and evil has the tendency to grow thinner and thinner with each passing day. Caught up in an ageless war waged within the darkest shadows of the earth and a mystery to the rest of human society, the warriors that fight this battle have become numb to nearly everything that occupies the mind of an ordinary homo sapien. There are few that choose to live a life like this, but those that do know exactly what they're getting themselves into. They have a reason to fight - a cause, oath, or guilt that drives them to protect the rest of the world from the creatures of the night, to fight for a victory no one but they will ever know. It is in this - this glory, this lifestyle, this danger - that they lose themselves, that they pour every ounce of their heart, body, and soul into.

"For thousands of years, the battle between good and evil has been very one-sided, with evil always on the losing end. Of course, there have been casualties on the human side: no war can be fought without blood shed by both armies. But it is now, in the year of 2006 A.D., than an unexpected change of proceedings has occurred. Warriors all across the globe have begun to disappear, vanishing off the face of the earth and leaving behind a weakened world, a world ripe for the taking. Now, only a fraction of these warriors remain, their numbers slashed by increasingly vicious demonic attacks. Every group has been exterminated, every army slaughtered, every defense weakened... with but one exception."


- Excerpt from the journal of Dr. Luke Sion, November 1st, 2006

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Virtue


Author: Famine (aka ghostmelody -or- Bringer-of-Famine)

Fanfic Type: My Chemical Romance

Status: Unfinished

Feedback: Yes

Categories: Supernatural / Drama / Action / Horror

Pairings: N/A

Rating: PG-13 for violence, language, and minor drug reference

Reader Score: User ImageUser ImageUser ImageUser Image (10 ratings)

Word Count: 81,100

Pages: 167

Disclaimer: Never happened, never will. Other than the members of MCR (Gerard Way, Mikey Way, Ray Toro, Bob Bryar, and Frank Iero), I own all of the characters in this story. Make any attempt to steal 'em and I will hunt you down with a vengeance...




I realize most people won't wanna read the whole lengthy thing to figure out whether or not they like the writing style, so I've posted an excerpt below.



Excerpt:


The driveway up to Sion's mansion of a home was foreboding in the dark. The towering willows that lined the road hung low over the pavement, obscuring the moonlight and leaving only the hearse's headlights to illuminate the path. Ray was behind the wheel with Gerard riding shotgun. Bob, Mikey, and Michelle rode in back with Frank, doing their best to keep his blood where it belonged. However, it wasn't just the blood loss they were worried about.

A dark red fungus, stemming from the palm of his right hand, was growing outwards and spreading over his body. It had already reached up to his shoulder and was now inching its way up his neck and across his chest. Black welts were beginning to form where the rot had stayed the longest, digging deeply into Frank's skin and drawing out dangerous amounts of blood.

“Are you sure Sion can cure it?” Michelle asked fearfully.

“If anybody can, it's him.” answered Gerard.

“Do you know what it is?”

“Varatis.” Gerard replied. “It's an Otherworld virus. It can only reach our dimension through carriers who travel to our plane of existence.”

“Is it contagious?”

“Only if the carrier purposefully wants it spread.”

“So whoever did this to him either wants him dead or at least in serious pain.” Mikey concluded.

“It's terminal?” Michelle's words came out as more of a statement than a question.

“Only if it's not treated.” Gerard assured her.



- The Angels Aren't Watching, Chapter 8




BANNERS


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[URL=http://tinyurl.com/y3losn][img]http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j102/ghostmelody48/virtuetitle.jpg[/img][/url]


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[URL=http://tinyurl.com/y3losn][img]http://i78.photobucket.com/albums/j102/ghostmelody48/Kendra-Sign.jpg[/img][/url]


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Gallery

Art Fund: 5,000g



Our first art!
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Thanks to the super awesome Grimmy_teh_Reaper for our very first 'Virtue' gallery artwork!





Anyone feeling artsy?


I've got gold and nothing to do with it, so I'm looking for art for the story (art will be featured in the gallery) It's not a ton of gold since it's meant as something to do if you're feeling bored and wanna do a little doodling. (click here for full details)


Looking to do a few pieces?
+1 char. LD - 200g
+1 char. HD - 500g
+1 char. RLD - 500g
+1 char. RHD - 1k
Banner LD - 100g
Banner HD - 300g


LD = Low Detail
HD = Much Detail
RLD = Rare Little Detail
RHD = Rare Much Detail

Rare - These characters include Dr. Sion*, Daniel, Kelly, Ken, Tobias, and Nashome**

*Only recommended for the monster/anthro-skilled artists
**I REALLY need some art of her

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Chapters 1-2


Chapter One


The sound of heavy footfalls resounded off the cobblestone streets and into the vacant sky above. Clad all in black, the stranger walked down the center of the road cautiously. His eyes glanced past the wide brim of his hat to the dark windows that lined the encroaching walls. They were all drawn shut by this time of night, leaving only the faint glow of flickering streetlights to illuminate the desolate cityscape. The long edge of his coat dragged lightly on the ground as he moved, stirring up a cloud of snow and frost in his wake.

He didn't know why, but something about the city in these hours made him cringe. Maybe it was the combination of the silence and the darkness, stifling like a midsummer's heat, enshrouding and suffocating him in its balmy hands. Yet again, the dark had never bothered him. On the contrary, he welcomed it. But this was different.

As he rounded the corner of 7th Street, his eyes caught the dying flame of a candle down the adjoining alley, sitting like a vigilant watch dog in the window of the inn. Two figures stood outside the building's door, shifting nervously where they stood as if waiting for something bad to happen.

Not like there's that much to worry about, he thought, stepping into the alley and making his way towards them. The shorter of the two heard the sound of his boots crunching on the gravel and her head shot up in alarm. She remained silent for a second, then finally spoke.

“Are you the one they called?” she asked, wringing her hands fearfully.

The stranger turned his head to the left, then the right, then his eyes locked with hers. “I suppose so.” His voice was clear and calculating. He took a step forward. “Not like there are too many others waltzing around these streets at night.”

“Then you know about the...”

“Harding told me. I know what I'm dealing with. Speaking of which, is he around?”

The second figure straightened himself and walked over to meet the man. “Jack Harding. We spoke on the phone.” He extended his hand in greeting.

“Yeah, I know.” the man grunted, ignoring the offer of friendship. “So, are you going to show me where it is or am I going to have to find it myself?”

“O-of course.” Jack stammered, slightly taken aback. “This way.”

Jack led the way into the inn, taking the candle from the window to light the way. The girl followed close at his side, with the stranger tailing a few steps behind.

“I'm truly sorry to have to have called you in,” Jack continued, “but I felt that... this sort of thing isn't exactly normal. I have heard you have quite a reputation for these 'exterminations'.”

“Exorcisms.”

“Exorcisms?”

“We're not pest control. You have a rat problem, you hire an exterminator. You have a supernatural problem, you call an...”

“Exorcist.”

“Actually, they call us hunters.”

Jack gave him a strange look. “Really? Why?”

The stranger sighed. “Dunno, but I suppose it fits.”

The three walked silently for a short while, passing by door upon door down the drearily-painted inn hallway. At the point where the stairs began again, the girl finally spoke up.

“So, how long have you been doing this?” she inquired, her nerves a little calmed by Jack's presence.

“The exorcisms or the house calls? Because technically-”

“The... hunting.”

The stranger cocked his head to one side and shrugged his shoulders. “I don't know. Four years, maybe five. Long enough.”

“I thought you said you worked with a group.”

“Yeah, usually, but half of 'em are out of the country and the other two are having problems of their own. Werewolves.”

“Werewolves?” Kira inquired. “I thought those were imaginary.”

“That's what most people believe, and it's for the better.” the stranger replied.

Kira took a second of the newfound quiet to look over the man behind her. His eyes were focused on the rickety stairs now below his feet, leaving the edges of the hat to block the view of his face. Dark locks of hair hung down to his shoulders, brushing their lightened tips against the fabric of his collar. She guessed he was an inch or so taller than Jack, but it was hard to tell at the present angle.

At the top of the stairs, Jack stopped. Before them lay another hallway, but this one was different. Much different.

From the cracks in the ceiling, dark, molten filth dripped like blood onto the smoking floor below. The walls buckled under the streams of foul fluid, while others had burned through completely, giving full view of the rooms beyond them. Tongues of purple flame protruded from the brass numbers on the doors, licking the air and scorching the few spots of plaster left untouched.

The stranger just stood there for a few minutes, watching the chaos with a lack of amusement. Kira clutched Jack's arm, staying behind him so as not to come too close to the threshold where the ensuing hell began. Jack tried to pass the candle to the stranger, but he shook his head.

“That won't do much.” he insisted.

“What is it?” whispered Kira, her eyes wide with fright.

“Don't worry. It's just a Taunt. These things get a bad reputation, but they're actually nothing to worry about. They're usually just bored and looking to cause a little mischief.”

“Are you kidding?” demanded Jack. “Look at it! It's practically acidic!”

The stranger looked at Jack. “Oh, of course. Silly me. Why should the expert be right, eh? The panicking, ignorant townsfolk are always so much more informed.”

“Then how do you get rid of it?” asked Kira.

The stranger removed his hat and set it on the end of the banister. She saw his face, fearless and bold, looking out over the scene before him.

“Trust me.” he said, taking a gun from the holster at his waist. “I've done this before.” Before either of them could object, he set off down the long, twisted corridor.

Taking care not to come too close to the walls, the stranger walked down the hall with his weapon drawn. His boots got repeatedly stuck in the bubbling, tar-like pool that covered the ground, but he managed to keep moving. Kira and Jack still stood on the landing, watching apprehensively as he pressed deeper and deeper into the slough of confusion. He communicated with them via the cell phone pressed against his ear, using his free hand to keep it from falling into the seething flood below.

“This place reeks.” Jack muttered into the phone.

“First of all, you're not even in here.” the stranger grumbled. “And second, it's burning sulfur and Hellflesh. Not exactly an air freshener.”

“Sorry.” Jack hurried to apologize.

“It's okay. It just gets a little frustrating reciting this crap a hundred times. We should really get some sort of pamphlet to hand out.”

Jack laughed tensely. “Might be an idea.”

“Yeah.” He had reached the end of the hall. Or at least as far as the Taunt would let him go. Now he stood dead center in front of an opaque wall of shadow which barred the way to the rest of the rooms.

“Dead end.” he noted nonchalantly.

“Do you know how to get past it or...”

The stranger gave a dry chuckle. “Taunts think they're the smartest things on the planet. In reality, a six-year old could out-think them.”

“Then how do you get past it?”

“Like so.” With that, the stranger withdrew a lighter from his pocket and held it up in the air. He switched on the tiny light and immediately the barrier shifted clumsily , rising from the floor and descending in a sphere on the flame. He winced as the darkness came into contact with his skin, but he kept the light up high.

“What are you doing?” imposed Kira, having snatched the other phone from Jack's hand.

“These guys like heat,” he grumbled painfully, fighting the urge to cry out, “so I'll give 'em heat.” With the flick of his wrist, he tossed the lighter through an opening in a nearby wall that led into another room. It landed on the floor, now smoldering with violet smoke, and was immediately set upon by the orb.

“See? Piece of cake.”

“I thought you said the candle wouldn't have helped.” Jack asked with curiosity.

“I did.”

“But didn't you just-”

“There's a difference in the heat sources. Taunts will snuff out regular flames instantly. For some reason, they can't extinguish lighters. I'm no science teacher, so I don't know exactly how it works, but it does, so I'm not gonna argue.”

With the hallway now open, he set off down the expanse, towards what he knew was the source of the infestation.

“What are you looking for?” the voice over the phone questioned.

The stranger stopped at the door to room 218 and pressed the back of his hand against the wood. He withdrew sharply, cursing loudly into the phone.

“I just need a second, Harding. Pretty soon, you can see for yourself.”

“I don't care about seeing it. I just want it out of my hotel!”

“Patience is a virtue.”

In succession, the stranger tested his hand against doors 219, 220, and 221. At each, his hand was burned by the surface, sending incredible pain through his body.

“What the hell are you doing?” Kira screamed into the phone. “Are you some sort of masochist? You're going to kill yourself!”

“Lady, seriously.” The stranger was getting aggravated by their incessant interruptions. Most people were kind enough to leave him alone while he did his work.

Finally, he came up to the door of room 222. He sighed, then, begrudgingly, set his hand upon the wood. But this time, instead of sending a blistering wave of heat through his body, he felt as though he were submerged in arctic waters. The door to 222 radiated a thin, almost translucent fog that was like daggers on his exposed face. His breath started coming in short ragged gasps and, almost instantly, the phone fell from his hand.

“Hello? Hello?!?” Jack shouted into the phone. No answer came.

“We have to help him!” Kira exclaimed. She ran to the closet at the top of the stairs and brought out a metal-handled broom and tried to make a mad dash down the hall. Jack grabbed her before she could get past the threshold and held her back.

“No! You don't even know what that thing is!”

“We have to help him! If he dies, it's our fault! We're the ones that called him!” She thrashed violently, trying to pry herself from Jack's hands.

“He said it's not dangerous! He can handle it!” He managed to wrench the broom away from Kira. She stopped fighting and slowly relaxed. She was breathing raggedly and he could tell she was on the verge of tears.

“Don't worry.” Jack tried to soothe her. “He said it was fine. He'll be okay.”

Unfortunately, Jack was wrong.


~*~



The stranger's voice caught in his throat, stifling what could be considered a scream. His hand felt like it was being torn apart as thousands of tiny ice crystals crawled up his flesh, holding him fast to the door. Thick haze spilled from his mouth as the temperature coursed through his body, killing him from the inside out. Slowly, slowly, he fell to his knees, streams of icy blood leaking from his mouth.

No, this is wrong, he thought. This shouldn't be happening! His body tried to gasp for air, but only a hollow hiss of steam escaped his lips. He could barely feel the touch of his own frozen hair against his neck as his skin numbed even further. Now he could barely feel himself dying.

What is this thing?

On the brink of unconsciousness, the stranger felt an alien force tugging on the end of his trapped hand. He hardly noticed himself being dragged through the door, which had turned to nothing more than a mahogany vapor, weighing heavily on his skin as he passed through it. Through his clouding eyes, he could see the light turning from the amethystine glow of the flames to a cerulean hue like ice. A wisp of air eluded his jaws and drifted upwards and out of sight.

I'm dying... I have to be... there's nothing else it could be, his disoriented mind assured him. And what do you know, hell's frozen over.

Time seemed to stand still as he hovered there, head lifted at an unearthly slant like a hangman's. His eyes were wide with terror, their olive-brown iris' paled by the frost. Arms swinging freely at his sides, he swayed on his knees, chest weighed down by the mass of the ice spreading through his veins. In his fear, he scarcely heard the sound of the whisper by his ear.

“Hello, Gerard.” a soft, feminine voice crooned. The stranger felt the gust of breath on the nape of his neck, but instead of warm and comforting, it was cold and biting, like the touch of winter. Try as he might, he found himself unable to move, let alone respond.

“Don't worry, I'm not here to kill you.” As she spoke, Gerard could feel the ice in his throat begin to melt, allowing him to breath more easily. “If I wanted that,” she paused, laughing playfully, “I'd have done so already.”

“W-What the hell are you?” he demanded, his words coming in short, shivering gasps.

She chuckled. “That's the million dollar question, isn't it?” Her fingers moved over the skin of his neck, chilling the flesh but clearing up his larynx even further.

“There's a few.”

“Oh, how true. But what I am... that's beyond the point.”

Gerard winced as long, razor-sharp fingernails dug into his back. He felt them moving artistically across his skin, tearing pieces from his jacket and from his hide.

“Who I am,” she purred, forcing emphasis on the first word, “...now that's a different story.”

“Look, I really don't have time for this.” Gerard growled through gritted teeth. “If you're going to kill me, get it over with.”

“Have you heard a word I've said?” she demanded in an offended tone. “Of course, I can kill you if I want. But personally, if I were in your shoes, I'd prefer life.”

“Then I suppose I'd better play along?” He raised an eyebrow in mock interest.

The being's grip on his skin tightened and he felt blood coursing down his back. “I'm going to be perfectly honest with you, Mr. Way,” she hissed. “This is hardly the time for sarcasm. I can end your life in a second if I so choose to. So I'll cut to the quick and give you this warning one time and one time only: you and your 'hunters' had better back off while you still have your dignity and your lives. A war is coming and you are on the losing side. This battle will decide the fate of the earth and you must choose, so I advise you either join the other team or get out of the way.”

Gerard sat silent for a few seconds, seeming to ponder the alternatives deeply. He could feel her eyes piercing into him, expectantly awaiting a decision.

“I guess that doesn't leave many options... so I suppose...” He paused. “While I can't speak for the rest of the guys, I can assume we would all answer something along these lines: there is no way in hell we are going to let you stare us down and make us back out. If a war's coming, we're going to be on the front lines doing whatever we can to stop you. Whether that means we get wounded or we die, it doesn't matter, 'cause we're not about to let a b***h like you lay this world to waste. Crawl into a hole and die.”

Gerard screamed in agony as she tore her claws from his flesh. “You little rodent.” She grabbed him by the hair and tugged his head backwards with a force that threatened to break his neck. Her face leaned down over his, allowing him to see into the depths of her hollow eyes. They seemed to pierce his very soul. “You are going to die. Slowly and painfully. But this is not the time nor the place. Defend the light and you will burn with it.”

“Drop dead.” he spat in defiance.

A dark spark lit in the pits of her vacant sockets. With a wave of her hand, a darkness consumed the room, a darkness so thick Gerard couldn't see an inch in front of his face. It crept over his flesh like an insect, smothering him and driving the little air left in his lungs out. The spot on his back where she'd cut him seared his flesh.

Don't fear the dark, Gerard told himself, fighting the agony. No matter what happens, never fear the dark.








Chapter Two


Mikey Way awoke with a start, nearly falling off the bed and onto the floor below. His right arm shot out towards the nightstand to catch himself, instead knocking over the narrow-necked lamp that sat there and sending it plummeting to the ground. It landed with a sickening crack on the hard wood floor, breaking into a thousand pieces on impact. He cursed softly.

“What the hell, man?” a voice mumbled sleepily from the other side of the motel room. “You trying to wake up all of Mexico?”

Mikey sat up straighter in bed. “Sorry to interrupt your beauty sleep.” he retorted.

“Yeah, well, the owner's gonna be ticked if he finds out you broke the lamp.”

“Then let's not let him find out.” Mikey pushed some of his autumn brown hair out from in front of his face. “We can ditch this place before we get billed for it.”

“Huh, that sounds so incredibly honest.”

“It does, doesn't it?”

“I don't like things weighing on my conscious.”

“Neither do I, Ray, but as of now, we only have forty dollars left. Not like we can spare the money for repair fees.”

Ray Toro sat up on the couch where he was resting, his tangled, curly hair bobbing up and down as he moved. His long legs stretched far out over the arm rest of the short sofa and into the air. He itched the base of his skull and yawned. “If so, we should probably get headed. The last thing we need is to have the Mexican government pissed at us, too.” He paused. “I'm still trying to figure out what went wrong in Cuba.”

“I don't think it was anything personal; they're just not very fond of Americans. Not very fond as in set up a law that... restricts us from being there and is supposed to keep us out.”

“Ah.”

Mikey got out of bed cautiously, taking care not to set his bare feet down on the remnants of the lamp. He tugged down on the edge of his t-shirt that had ridden up on his abdomen as a result of his tossing and turning the night before. It was becoming routine. He hadn't slept well in weeks.

“Regular or decaf?” Ray asked. He was already standing by the small coffee machine in the corner of the room. There were several cases of bottled water sitting on the counter next to him.

“Regular. I need the wakeup.”

“Coming right up.”

Making his way over to the bathroom, Mikey picked up a fresh set of clothes from the closet. He was running out of those, too.

The bathroom had the aura of one of those disgusting truck stop restrooms, where it looked as though it had never been cleaned in its lifetime. The seat of the toilet was cracked and chipped, and Mikey could swear he saw a leak in the side of the bowl. He did his best to avoid even coming near the shower, its glass turned murky brown by countless layers of dirt and grime. A series of web-like abrasions scarred the face of the wall-length mirror, and one side even looked as though it had suffered a bullet wound.

Just get dressed and get out, Mikey told himself for what had to have been the twentieth time that week. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the duffel bag he'd left lying on the scum-encrusted sink edge. I can't believe we're just letting it sit there. He moved over to the bag and unzipped the larger of the two side compartments. Reaching his hand inside, he moved his hand about until it came into contact with a smooth, metal surface. Hesitantly at first, he slid the body of the Colt .45 revolver from where it rested and into the dim, yellowed light.

If they catch us without passports and carrying firearms, who knows what'll happen to us. His thoughts immediately returned to that night nine days ago when he and Ray had barely made it past Customs in Tijuana. An amateur security guard had discovered the case of ammunition they were carrying, resulting in pandemonium. The two barely managed to flee the scene and were now hiding safely in the confines of Mexico City.

Then he thought about the motel's manager. He probably heard something about us on the news, but I'm sure it's not that big of a story. Mikey set the gun back down on the porcelain counter top. He ran his fingers through his hair, combing out a series of knots that had formed overnight.

Taking only a minute to get dressed, Mikey then exited back into the relatively clean main room, where Ray was sitting cross-legged on the bed. His eyes were fixed on the small television screen, its grainy picture casting shadows over the darkened residence.

“Anything interesting?” Mikey asked sarcastically. He picked up the cup of coffee Ray had poured for him.

“Unless you're trying to keep up with Mexican sports teams, I don't think so. I thought we got too much of this crap in Jersey, but it's even worse down here.”

The two were silent for a moment, just watching the images flick past on the grayscale screen. Eventually, Mikey grew tired of standing and dropped down on the bed next to Ray. He stretched his legs out and propped his head up against one arm, trying his best to relax in the current environment.

Roughly a minute later, the sports segment of the news program ended and gave way to a Hispanic anchorwoman who looked as though she'd been chain-smoking for thirty years. She began speaking in rapid Spanish at an incredible pace that left Mikey wondering how anybody even fluent in the language could keep up. There was a picture of a chicken in the upper right-hand corner of the screen, which led him to occasionally extract the word 'carne' from the woman's nigh illiterate rant.

“You have no idea how happy I'm going to be when we get back to the U.S.” said Mikey.

“My guess: very.” Ray replied emotionlessly.

“It's just - I have no problem with Mexico. It's a great country; don't get me wrong. But... I've just been having these really bad feelings. I'm worried.”

“About what?”

“Gerard.” Mikey went silent for a moment. “I mean, you've heard about all those studies they've done, right? The connections between brothers thing?”

“Can't go on the Internet without seeing something about it.”

“Normally, I don't believe in that sixth sense mumbo jumbo, but this is different. I think he might be in trouble.”

“Dude, he's Gerard.” Ray turned to look at him. “He gets himself into these sort of situations all the time. He's a bad luck magnet.”

“Still...” Mikey sighed, taking a drink from the glass in his hand. “Just wish I could talk to him. Make sure he's okay.”

“He'll be fine. Just trust... me...” Ray's voice trailed off. Mikey, having been focusing on the cheap fresco painting hanging above the T.V., turned his attention to the man sitting next to him.

“What?”

“Damn it.” Ray muttered.

“What is it?” Mikey was about to ask again when he heard a familiar name echoed by the anchorwoman. His stomach nearly dropped.

“... La policía mexicana todavía buscan a Way y Toro, los cuales huyeron de los oficiales de la frontera de Tijuana el martes pasado. Y eso después de que se supo de que traían docenas de armas ilegales al país...”

Two police sketches, almost perfect likenesses of Mikey and Ray, now filled the entire screen, with only the newscaster's voice in the the background to signify her presence.

“What's she saying?” Mikey demanded, his eyes blazing with horror.

“Shhh!” Ray hissed.

“...Las autoridades del condado los consideran peligrosísimos y se debe evitarlos a toda costa. Si alguna persona tiene cualquier información en cuanto al paradero tanto de Mikey Way como de Ray Toro, por favor de llamar a-”

Ray switched the power off and leaped off the mattress and onto the roughly cut floor. “We have to go. Now.”

“You understood that?”

“No, but I heard police and I heard us. That means go.”

“I'm not about to disagree.” said Mikey, quickly setting his cup on the nightstand. Bolting to the bathroom, he rushed to repack the duffel bag and sling it over his shoulder. He gathered up the clothes scattered across the linoleum floor and piled them together into the half-empty suitcase wedged beneath the bed, taking care not to leave anything necessary behind.

“You got the cash?” Ray called out from the other side of the room.

Mikey froze. “I thought you had it.”

Ray frantically patted the pocket on the left side of his pants, then the right. “Oh, you're right. Never mind.”

They moved about the room as fast as they could, leaving behind anything that wouldn't be needed. “Remind me again,” Mikey began, “why we need to move so fast.”

“Didn't you see the T.V. at the checkout counter?”

“Um, yeah...”

“Our innkeeper has it tuned to the news 24/7. There's no way he didn't catch that.”

Mikey swore aloud, partly from anger and partly from his foot coming into contact with one of the jagged shards of the lamp.

In a little less than five minutes, Mikey and Ray had packed completely and were making a dash for the door.

“Come on!” Ray grunted as he lifted a series of suitcases up of the ground. “If we hurry, we can make it to the car before the police get here.” Just as he reached for the doorknob, the resounding sound of sharp, rasping knocking erupted from the door.

“Policía! Tenemos la autorización de revisar la casa. Abra la puerta ya o entraremos a la fuerza.”

“Oh, come on!” Mikey groaned.

Ray's eyes darted around the room, then locked on the southeast wall. “The window!”

“We can't outrun them that way!”

“We can try!”

The two charged towards the window, leaving the other end of the room in their wake. Ray dropped his burdens by the wall and instead lifted a nearby chair which he then, with all the strength he could muster, swung at the thin glass panel. The window shattered like ice, raining a shower of crystalline dust down onto the floor.

“Move!” he cried.

Mikey stepped carefully yet swiftly over the jagged-edged barrier, his feet landing nimbly on the second floor walkway outside. Ray was not far behind, toting his portion of the bags with little effort. They sprinted down the balcony as fast as their legs could carry them, and when they reached the stairs, they flew down them two at a time, almost tripping and falling on the last few.

“Where'd you park the car?” Mikey bellowed over the sound of police sirens that blared from less than a block away.

Ray stopped and looked around. Scanning the sparse rows of cars, he looked for the distinct paint job he would recognize. His eyes lit up.

“There!” He pointed frantically towards the hood of a red-striped, custom-designed hearse parked in the center of the lot. A small black flag mounted on the antennae fluttered in the breeze.

Mikey shook his head. “We seriously have got to get a less noticeable form of transportation.”

“Agreed,” Ray motioned for him to hurry, “but let's discuss that at another time.”

They ran across the asphalt, their path illuminated by the rising Mexican sun. When they reached the automobile, Ray unlocked the driver's side door and climbed in. Mikey waited impatiently on the other side of the car, tapping his foot nervously to the rhythm of the loudly screeching cars he knew were waiting for them on the other side of the motel. He breathed a sigh of relief when he heard the sound of his door unlock, allowing him to slide into his seat. They tossed their luggage into the backseat and as soon as that was done, Ray hit the gas and the hearse shot off like a bullet.

“Agh!” Mikey exclaimed as he was thrown back in his chair. “Couldn't you at least give me a little warning?”

“Sorry.” Ray rolled his eyes.

Mikey turned in his seat to look past the bags and out the back window. They were speeding away from the motel and already he could see the flashing sirens in the distance. He stared at them for a few seconds, waiting to see if they moved.

“Anything?” Ray asked, trying to alleviate the tense silence.

“They're not moving.” A look of surprise dawned on Mikey's face. “I don't believe it. They didn't see us!”

“Let's not get cocky.” Ray cautioned. “We'll slow down a little once we're out of sight.” He went quiet. “I suppose... it's about time we get going home.”

Although Mikey tried to hide it, his face lit up. “We did accomplish what we came here to do.”

“Yeah, but this isn't exactly the kind of recognition I was hoping for.”

“At least we did the right thing.”

“I guess. Not too long 'til we'll be back in Jersey.”

Mikey stared out the window at the highway rushing past under their tires. A small smile creased his face. “No, not too long.”

Offline
Chapters 3-4


Chapter Three


“Ugh,” Frank Iero groaned, “why do they have to reek like that?” He was poking the carcass of a fallen lycan with his foot, its massive, eight hundred pound body barely twitching under the minimal force exerted by his short-statured form.

Standing ten feet away, Bob Bryar was busy cleaning up the spot where the enormous beast had lost the contents of its stomach only seconds before it had collapsed with exhaustion. “I don't know. Maybe if you stopped shooting them in the gut, they wouldn't puke as much.”

“That's the only weak spot. There's no other way to bring them down.”

“What about the heart?”

“How am I supposed to hit the freaking heart?” Frank demanded.

“You aim and fire.”

“Haha.” He grimaced. “If it's so easy, why don't you do it?”

“Because I'm not the one complaining about the stench.”

Frank cursed, realizing he'd once again backed himself into a proverbial corner. Instead of trying to argue it further, he reached down into the pocket of his jeans and took out the cell phone that had been wedged inside the tight-fitting denim. He clicked through a series of menus until he found what he was searching for under the contacts list, then simply dialed the number with the touch of a button.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times. A look of concern crossed Frank's face, though it was almost hidden by the thin strands of black-dyed hair plastered over his right eye. Four times now. Five.

Not a moment before Frank raised his finger to hang up, the sixth ring ended in mid-chime.

“Hello?” said the man on the other end of the line.

“Ray?”

“Mikey.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“Don't bother. So, what's up?”

“Just calling to see how things were going down on your end.”

Mikey hesitated for a moment. “Um, depends what portion of the trip you're referring to.”

“The chupacabra.”

“Oh, that went fine. A few scratches here and there - nothing fatal.”

“That's always good to hear.” Frank tried to stall, knowing by Mikey's tone of voice that the story was going to take a turn for the worse. “No civilian casualties?”

“No, just goats. A lot of goats.”

“I see.”

Both were silent for a minute, waiting for the other to say something. Finally, Frank spoke.

“You... have a problem, don't you?”

“Yeah.”

Letting out a short, exasperated sigh, Frank moved to sit down on the ground, knowing he probably wouldn't want to be standing when the news came. “Where are you, exactly?”

“Um, exactly?”

“Or as close as you can get to exact.”

“See, that in itself is the problem.”

“Geez. Alright, where are you and what did you guys do this time?”

“Look, it wasn't our fault.”

“Like hell. Just answer the questions.”

“Well, as of right now, we're parked in a ditch just west of Matamoros.”

“Matamoros? Isn't that on the gulf coast?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Wait, wait, wait... you guys said you only had to go down from Tijuana to Durango. I'd love to hear how you guys got to the gulf, which happens to be five hundred miles off the charted course.”

“Long story.” Mikey replied simply.

“Are you going to tell me or just let me guess?”

“I have a feeling guessing wouldn't be too hard.”

“You know what, let's just forget it. You two are safe, right?”

“Uninjured, yes. Safe, we'll see.”

“You do realize that no one is going to drag themselves down there just to pull you guys out 'cause you got into a little trouble with the Mexican government, right?”

“Well, it's not really little...”

“Nevertheless, Bob and I have been worked to the bone on this werewolf case and we haven't been able to reach Gerard for three days. Sorry, but you two are on your own.”

“Wait.” Mikey's voice sounded anxious. “What did you say about Gerard?”

“We've tried calling him a couple times in the last few days, but his phone's still off. Lazy bum probably just forgot to turn it on.”

“Yeah...” Mikey stopped. “Listen, if you hear from him, call and let us know.”

“Sure thing.” Frank tried to smile, making an attempt to brighten the situation. “And by the way; if you guys get the Chemobile smashed up, it's coming out of your pocket.”

“Got it.” Mikey answered.

“Say hi to Ray for me.”

“He's only sitting a foot away; I think he can hear.”

“Well, then. Guess we'll see you two back in Jersey.”

“Can't wait.”

“Over and out.”

“Later.”

The call ended and Frank slid the phone back into his pocket. Bob, now sitting in the back of the dark-painted van parked near the sight of the kill, looked up hopefully.

“Good news?”

“I wish.”

“What the- man, why does that not surprise me?”

Frank shook his head. “This month hasn't exactly been our luckiest. First the F.B.I. bust and now this crap. Someone's got it in for us.”
Little did Frank know how true that was.


~*~



Driving through Philadelphia in the heat of morning commute, the jet black van sat idly in the swarm of traffic. Inside, Frank rested in the driver's seat, head slumped down as he leaned heavily on the steering wheel. Bob was in the back, surrounded by thousands of dollars in high-tech equipment and monitoring systems. They had been on this road now for nearly three hours, trying to fight through the surge of vehicles to get out of the city and back home.

“New idea.” Frank mumbled. “I say we set business hours. And we set them an hour after everybody else's.”

“Agreed.” Bob yawned. “Or at least sound-proof the van. How are we supposed to get any sleep with these idiots pounding on their horns every three seconds?”

Frank shook his head in dismay. “We should start charging too. We can barely afford to fuel the cars and maintaining the gear is burning a hole in our pockets.”

“Maybe we should get some sponsors or something.”

“Sponsors? Who would sponsor us?”

“Hot Topic?” he suggested hopefully.

“It might be worth a shot,” Frank replied. He watched as several cars ahead of them pulled forwards, leaving a small space for him to move ahead. Then suddenly he noticed an off-ramp only a lane away, the path to it completely open.

“And what do we have here?” he asked himself. Hurrying to make it through before any other cars shut the path off, he spun the wheel to the left and sped towards the exit.

“You found an opening?”

“A perfect one, in fact. We're blowing this joint.”

The van left the rest of the gridlocked automobiles in its dust. They rushed down the narrow ramp, which was surprisingly vacant for this time of day.

“That's weird,” Frank muttered.

“What is?”

“Look at this.”

Bob moved towards the front seat, bringing his head up above the head rest and allowing him to see out the windshield.

“It's... empty.” His face was a mask of astonishment.

“There's hundreds of cars stuck up on that highway and none of them-absolutely none of them-have come down this ramp? This way has to be a million times faster. What gives?”

“Maybe it's under construction.”

“There would have been a sign.”

They both looked out the passenger's side window as the first buildings began to come up around the edges of the road. Most were in reasonably good condition, save a few graffiti tags and the occasional run-down hovel.

“Not like it's a terrible part of town.” Frank murmured, watching out the window for some sign of movement. “I don't get it. There's nobody. No cars, no pedestrians, not even pigeons. A city this big has to have pigeons.”

“Unless it's haunted.” Bob suggested sarcastically.

“Seriously, this place is starting to freak me out. We've driven six blocks and I haven't seen a single thing move.”

“Woah, what's with the trees?”

“What?” Frank turned to see where he was looking, then followed his gaze to the small park leading off the street.

Standing like sentinels over the desolate streets, a forest of gnarled and twisted trees grew to unfathomable heights in the sky, their broken branches reaching out like skeletal hands. They loomed over the apartment buildings, growing into their windows and inside them like vines. From the end of each bow grew a dark navy flower the size of a man and coated with viciously curved thorns.

“I don't think we're in Kansas anymore.” Frank whispered.

“Frank.”

Frank was staring out his window at the trees. “What?”

“Frank.”

“I said what?”

“No, Frank!” Bob's hand flew forward, pointing at the road.

Frank snapped to attention. “Holy sh-” He slammed on the breaks, sending the van spinning recklessly to a halt. For a second, it felt as if the massive vehicle would flip. Bob was flung forward from the back, his body sailing over the divider and crashing into the dashboard. Frank was thrown hard against the driver's side door, the handle digging deep into the flesh of his hip. The van continued its slide, spinning on the axis of its front tires until it finally screeched to a halt.

Bruised and bleeding, Frank stumbled from the van, Bob close behind. Neither felt as injured as they looked, seeing as most of their wounds were nothing more than contusions.

“What was that?” Frank asked, rubbing the spot on his side where he had collided with the door.

“I'm not sure.” Bob admitted. “It was just lying in the center of the road.”

They rounded the van and found themselves with a perfect view of the street. From where they stood, all they could see in the road was a low, dark shape, sprawled unceremoniously over the pavement. It didn't move an inch as they advanced.

“Do you think it's dead?” Frank was shuffling slowly towards the comatose figure, hand held close to the weapon at his side.

“That depends; what is it?”

Upon reaching a clearer visual range, Frank noticed the pale hint of skin amid the dark color of the clothes it wore. “I think... it's human.” He heard a soft moan and hastened his pace.

Within a few feet of the fallen form, he knelt down reluctantly. Now he could identify the feminine curve in her face, though it remained tucked down tightly towards her chest. Long amber hair cascaded down from her scalp and onto the ground around her head. Her hands were held limply in front of her eyes, obscuring the rest of her most noticeable characteristics. The black military jacket she wore was frayed and torn by an unknown assailant and he could see a growing crimson stain on her chest.

“We have to get her to a hospital.” Bob was kneeling next to her now. “If she keeps bleeding like that, she's going to die.”

Frank nodded. “If you can lift her, I'll clear out a space in the back to lay her.”

“Right.”

Bob slid his arms under the unconscious girl's knees and spine, being careful not to put pressure on any of the gashes on her skin. Meanwhile, Frank had sprinted back to the van and was pushing equipment out of the way to make room for her.

Four yards from the van, the girl shifted in Bob's arms. Her entire body went limp and her hands fell away from her face. She mumbled something faintly, but he could scarcely hear it over the rumble of the engine. He walked a few steps further and he heard it again, this time slightly louder.

“The back's clear.” Frank reported, standing to the side to allow Bob to lay her within. He set her down gently, resting her head against the soft edge of a thickly packed suitcase. She mumbled again, this time even more audible than before.

“She's trying to say something.”

“Yeah, but what?”

Almost instantly, an unexplained wave of dread swept through Frank, a fear like he had never felt before. “What the...”

“Get away...” Frank and Bob looked on in amazement as the girl's previously sealed eyes began spilling over with indigo smoke.

“Get away before she comes back...”


~*~



Nearly an hour had past since the van had descended into the city and the streets were still as deserted as they had been before. Frank was in the driver's seat once more, one hand on the wheel and the other held cautiously on the shotgun lying in the seat next to him. Bob was in back with the girl, keeping an eye on her vital signs via the emergency medical kit they were fortunate enough to keep on board.

“We should call somebody.” Frank spoke up, his voice heavy with stress.

“Maybe we can reach Ray and Mikey.” volunteered Bob.

“Worth a shot.” Frank took his hand off the gun and retrieved the phone from his pocket. He hit redial and waited patiently as the ringing commenced. This time it only took four tries before a voice answered on the other end.

“Frank?” It was Ray this time.

“Yeah.”

“Why do you keep calling? I already told you, this isn't exactly an opportune time-”

“I know,” Frank interrupted, “but this is important.”

“So is making it back to the country in one piece.”

“Obviously, but – wait a minute. Are you still in that ditch?”

There was a pause. “Um, you could say that.”

“Damn it, Ray. It's been over four hours and you still haven't moved?”

“Dude, do you know how heavily the U.S. are guarding their boarders these days? A jackrabbit couldn't slip by without them noticing.”

“Then just walk up there; if you can get past the Mexican guards, maybe the guys from our side will let you through.”

“See, that 'maybe' right there didn't sound very inviting.”

“You have your passports, don't you?”

“Um...”

“Alright, Ray, listen; you and Mikey are getting out of that country ASAP. I don't care if you have to dig a freaking tunnel to get through, 'cause if you're not back in Newark by Sunday, I'm killing you myself. Comprende?”

“Geez, somebody's grumpy.”

“Well, we're not having a great day, either.”

“Werewolves are pushovers. The U.S. government on the other hand -”

“I'm not talking about the werewolves. We're having some bigger problems.”

“Police?”

“I wish.”

“Then what?”

“We're... not sure.”

“Cryptic. Any clues?”

“Do you know of any elementals in or around the Philadelphia area?”

“Philly? Not that I'm aware of. Most of them seem to hang around the west coast. But there are always a few unregistered ones hanging around. Why? Did you catch one?”

“We have all known threat level 5's identified, right?”

“Yeah, but... there's only, like, eight of them. On the planet.”

“We may need to make that nine.”

“Are you serious? You found a level 5 just walking around Philadelphia?”

“It's -” Frank paused. “Ray, there's nobody here.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we're in the heart of a city with over one and a half million residents. We just passed over the Delaware and there is not a soul to be seen. The trees look like they grew out of some goth kid's sketch book and the only person we've managed to find is dying right now in the back of our van. And she may not even be human.”

“The good news just keeps on coming.” Ray muttered.

“We're going to try and take her to Trenton.”

“Do you think it was affected?”

“I don't-” Frank's voice broke off in mid-sentence. He eased his foot down on the brake and brought the car to a stop.

“What's going on?” Ray asked, hearing the sound of the brake over the phone.

“I – I saw something.”

“Was it moving?”

“Yeah. Fast. It looked like a car.”

“I thought you said nobody's -”

“I did, but... I swear I just saw something.”

“Maybe you should check it out.”

“Right.”

With that, Frank hung up and set the phone down in the adjacent seat.

“Are you getting out?” Bob asked from behind.

“Just gonna take a quick look around. See what's up and get back on the road. You coming?”

Bob looked down at the girl. Her face was less contorted than it had been before and it now looked as though she was doing reasonably well. “Why not?” He stepped towards the back doors and pushed them open. “She'll be alright on her own for a little while.”

Frank emerged from the van into the warm dusk, taking a deep breath as if expecting something to steal the air away any second. As he exited the vehicle, he stretched his legs casually, both of which had become incredibly tense in the last hour. On the other side of the vehicle, Bob jumped down onto the asphalt from the back bumper. He itched absentmindedly at the long blonde stubble on his chin.

“So... what are we looking for?”

“Something that shouldn't be here.” Frank's head pivoted left and right as he scanned the dark and vacant city.

“It could have just been a shadow.”

“No. It wasn't. Trust me.” Taking a few steps away from the van, Frank sniffed the air. Understanding dawned in his mind and he quickly picked up his pace, moving towards the lower windows of a nearby skyscraper. “Do you smell that?”

Bob's nose wrinkled and he nodded. “I do, but is it what I think it is?”

“It's... coffee.”

“Then who the hell's making it?”

Frank's eye caught on one window in particular and his brow furrowed. He walked up to it and set his hand on the glass. Peeling one finger off of the smooth surface, he lifted up a thin layer of what looked like translucent ash.

“What are you doing?”

“The glass, it's covered in something. I think -” A sudden flash of color went by behind the spot where the ash was missing, moving so fast Frank almost didn't catch it. No, not behind, he thought. It's a reflection.

“I-I know what's going on.” Frank stuttered. “We have to get back to the van.”

“Why?”

“We can't let her wake up.”

“Do you have any idea how much you're confusing me?”

“Damn it, we have to get back to the van!” Frank bounded past Bob, who followed quickly in suit.

“What's going on?!?” Bob shouted over the pounding of shoes on pavement.

“We're trapped in a netherworld!” Frank cried back. “She must have somehow opened a portal when we came down the ramp!”

“Why would she do that?”

“I don't know! But she's the only other person here and that must mean -”

Frank was cut off by an eruption of purple flame that spewed from the windows of the van, lashing out and striking the ground ahead of him. He stopped dead in his tracks, his feet grinding on the dirt and pebbles below. The roof of the vehicle was splitting open like a shell as tendrils of smoke pried it open from the inside, tearing the metal as easily as if it were a tissue. Rising like a wraith from the smoldering wreckage, the girl was like an apparition, her body radiating a demonic aura far too familiar to Frank. Orchid fog spilled out of her mouth and eyes, pouring down her flesh in rivers.

“You!!!” the girl bellowed in a hideous voice that sounded like her vocal chords were ripping themselves apart. She pointed an accusing finger at Frank and screamed, “YOU'RE GOING TO PAY FOR WHAT YOU DID!!!”








Chapter Four


Light seeped slowly into Gerard's eyes as he awoke, flooding the recesses of his consciousness with rebirth. His body, aching and sore, tried to convince him that he could sleep forever, but something was dragging him back to reality. An outside force, harsh and persisting.

Eyes snapping open, Gerard sat bolt upright, only to find his head colliding with a rock solid surface, sending him back down to earth with bone-jarring force.

“Woah, easy there.” The voice penetrated Gerard's hazy mind and helped bring him into focus, allowing him to see the face of a young woman looking down on him. “You don't need to be hurting yourself more than you already are.”

“Where the hell...” he managed to murmur, his throat hoarse with dehydration.

“We found you passed out in Harlem,” she replied, “but we figured that district wasn't the safest haven for a pretty boy like you, so we brought you back to Manhattan with us.”

“We? Us?”

The girl jabbed her thumb at the air behind her. Gerard, eyes now fully capable of functioning, sat up to see. Behind her, also crouched under what he now realized was a low concrete overhang in a construction site, sat six other men and women. A few held flashlights which served to illuminate the dank area, but hardly allowing him to see their faces. The lead girl, however, was visible in the dim lighting and he could see long, chocolate-brown hair hanging down in curls around her slender Hispanic cheekbones. She wore a black double-breasted jacket rolled up at the elbow, revealing silver fishnet gloves that reached down from the bases of her fingers to halfway up her lower arm. Dark denim shorts stretched down from her heavily belted waist to her knees, showing off the red-and-black-striped socks that wrapped around her legs.

“My name's Michelle.” she said, smiling sweetly.

“Gerard.” he replied.

“Well, Gerard, it's very nice to meet you. Under other circumstances, it might have been slightly more pleasant. Sorry we couldn't really do anything about your back.”

Gerard hadn't even noticed the throbbing pain behind his left shoulder until now. He tried to turn his head to view it and recoiled in disgust when he saw the blood-spattered bandage over the site of the wound.

“Best we could do without a hospital.” Michelle added, looking slightly ashamed by the bandage's lack of effectiveness.

He shrugged. “Better than I could have done.”

“Are you good to walk?”

Rising carefully so as not to cause himself any more damage, Gerard got up off the ground and into a sitting position, testing the strength of his legs. Finding both in good condition, he nodded.

“Then let's get out of here.” Michelle waved at the group behind her, signaling them to move out through the chamber's single, narrow-mouthed exit. Beyond, he could see the glow of streetlights.

“What time is it?”

In response, Michelle took a small silver pocket watch from the neck of her coat. The thin-linked chain leading off of it passed down around her neck and to her back, where it was probably tied to a secure line. Odd place to store things, Gerard thought immediately.

“Three forty-seven.” Her eyes flicked up from the watch to Gerard. “Huh. Didn't realize it'd gotten so late.”

She set the watch back in its hiding spot and moved towards the exit. Gerard followed close behind. Outside, the rest of the group was waiting. They had turned their lights off in favor of the darkness and now he could barely see Michelle. It was only now that he realized his coat was missing, revealing the white work shirt underneath.

“Well, let's get going.” Michelle murmured. The entire group moved as one, following her out of the construction site. Gerard was nestled firmly in the center of the pack, with four ahead of him and three behind. He had a feeling they were guarding him. Or, trapping him.

“Are we headed back to the city?” one man asked in a low voice, which Gerard realized was an attempt to keep him from hearing.

“Not now, Simon. We have to find a place for Gerard to stay.”

“Couldn't he just stay with us?” a girl chimed in. She sounded young, maybe as much as seven years younger than Michelle herself.

Michelle shot her a withering look. Her voice dropped even further and he failed to hear the response. The young girl nodded in understanding, her head slightly downcast.

“There's a hotel a few blocks south where you could stay.” Michelle turned to face Gerard, her feet still carrying her in the right direction. “We can pay for a couple nights, then we'll stop by again and see if we can get you home. By the way, where do you live?”

“Newark, actually.”

“Newark? Well that's lucky. Not much of a drive there, eh?”

“No, not too long, but long enough I wouldn't want to walk back at this hour.”

Michelle's mouth curved a little at the corners. It looked almost painful. Fake smiles now? Gerard thought desperately. What the hell's this girl up to?

“Come on.” Michelle chided, encouraging the group to pick up the pace. “We can get there before -”

The sound of wailing sirens silenced Michelle and made her blood run cold. “Police!” she cried. “Everybody run!”

In less than a second, every person in the group was sprinting off in a different direction. Gerard was still standing there looking dumb-founded when someone grabbed him by the collar and forced him back into the nearest alley. He felt himself thrown into the brick wall and fell in a winded heap to the ground. Looking up, he saw Michelle, her eyes fanatically scanning the street beyond. She drew herself back suddenly as a police car flew past.

“Thanks,” Gerard scrambled to his feet. “A few more seconds and -”

Before he had the chance to react, Michelle ran at him, slamming her knee into the dead center of his gut. Coughing and gasping for breath, Gerard collapsed back down onto the pavement. He felt her arm seize him by the throat and the cold, deadly edge of steel press against his skin.

“Don't even try to fool me.” Michelle hissed in his ear. “I know exactly what you are.”

Gerard attempted to reach up and pry her from his neck, but Michelle tightened her grip, forcing him to lower his arms. The bite of the knife in his flesh was certainly unnerving, but he fought to keep his cool.

“And what would that be?” Gerard choked, trying hard to stop the blade from cutting into him.

“I saw the mark on your back, Gerard. Don't play stupid.” She pulled the dagger back further, dragging him deeper into the alley. “Although I must say, you fit the part rather well.”

“Do we really need to be adding insult to injury?”

“You would know a lot about that, wouldn't you?”

“I don't know who the hell you think I am, but I'm giving you three seconds to let me go before I tear your eyes out of their sockets.”

“I'm terrified.” she spat sarcastically.

“One...”

“I can't wait to see this.”

“Two...”

“Let me save you the trouble.”

“Three!”

Michelle released him and shoved him forward, swinging the blade in her hand out and around in a wide arc, bringing it down over the flesh of his lower back. A shower of crimson sprayed from the freshly cut elliptical wound that stretched from his neck to his hip, splattering over the walls of the alley and onto Michelle's hands. Gerard staggered backwards, hands feeling around the shallow cut at his neck. Blood was already soaking into the shirt and weighing him down, and now the loss of fluids was draining him of energy.

“I overestimated you.” Michelle glowered at Gerard through the dark curls of hair hanging over half of her face.

“You don't even know me.” he growled, spitting blood.

“I might not know you, but I know how to kill you.”

She lunged toward him and Gerard spun to the side, narrowly avoiding the murderous tip of the knife. It struck the brick harmlessly, reverberating in Michelle's hand and distracting her. Taking advantage of the situation, he backed away, feeling around in the deep pockets of his black denim jeans.

“Lose something?” Michelle asked tauntingly, raising the edge of her jacket and revealing the handle of Gerard's gun. “You shouldn't keep these kinds of things lying around.”

Gerard tried to respond, but he was feeling more exhausted by the second. He could only back away further into the dark junction, trying to keep distance between Michelle and himself.

“Well, well.” Michelle was advancing more quickly than Gerard could retreat. As she approached, a look of pure loathing crossed her face. “Not so tough without our weapons, are we?”

“You're mental,” Gerard wheezed.

“Yeah, whatever. At least I'm not the one who backed myself into a wall.”

An immobile surface seemed to materialize out of the darkness behind Gerard, cutting off his retreat. The end of the alley.

“End of the line, monstrosity.”

Struggling for breath, Gerard inched along the wall towards the nearest corner.

“I want you to understand something, Gerard; I'm not a bad person,” She stopped momentarily, lowering her knife. For a second, it seemed as though she wasn't going to attack. Instead, she slid the dagger back into its sheath and, with a dramatic spin of her wrist, drew out a wickedly sharp, slender-edged katana from underneath her jacket, “ but I draw the line of mercy somewhere between the living and the dead.”

“What?!?”

Michelle stepped closer, now only a few feet from where Gerard was huddled. “It's back to hell for you, demon. Give my regards to Lucifer.”

Raising her arm to strike, Michelle's eyelids flew open. The weapon fell slowly from her unclenching fingers as every muscle in her body contracted.

“Might want to watch where you're going next time.” he grunted through red-stained teeth, his good hand struggling to keep the needle of the previously hidden syringe in her skin. The contents emptied, he threw it aside and watched as she dropped slowly to the ground.

The edges of Gerard's eyes began to cloud over and he too felt himself being dragged down to the ground under the weight of gravity. He tried with a futile effort to speak, but he was too exhausted to utter another word, and with little fight, he collapsed next to her, succumbing for the second time to the embrace of darkness.

Offline
Chapters 5-6


Chapter Five


Frozen in place like a deer in the headlights, Frank watched as the spectral form rose from the van. Tentacles of dark energy grew from her back, holding her high above the burning debris. She was closing in effortlessly, covering the gap that separated them in seconds. Now towering over him, she glared down and snarled, “It's about time we settle this score.”

Frank fought to retaliate, but his body would not let him. He was practically screaming in his head, but something in her eyes was hypnotizing, stopping him from any other actions. A series of the obsidian appendages swooped down around his arms and chest, lifting him off the ground.

“Frank!!!” Bob called out from below. Neither Frank nor the demon seemed to notice. He knew he had to distract the creature somehow, but shouting obviously wasn't going to do it. Instead, he ran to the corner of the street where a set of mail boxes stood deserted. Using the keys to the van as a screwdriver, he unhinged the side access doors from both and tucked them under his arm.

Now Frank was nearly at eye level with the menacing beast. His entire body was as limp as a rag doll, refusing any of his mind's commands. Fight back! His head cried out. Fight back now!

But I can't, another side of him argued. It's hopeless.

It's never hopeless!

“HEY!!!” Bob shouted, trying to divert the creature's gaze. When she didn't respond, he hurled one of the two metal plates hard in her direction. Zipping through the air, it struck her square in the neck with terrifying force, sending her flailing backwards. The tendrils ensnaring Frank evaporated, dropping him fifteen feet to the ground. The sharp, jolting pain of the landing awoke him from his previous state of delirium.

Fuming and hissing in anger, the girl regained her footing, forsaking the dark magic she had been wielding only moments ago for her own legs. “Very well then,” she boomed out in both her own voice and that of the demon dwelling inside of her, “if I have to kill both of you, I might as well have some fun while I'm at it.”

“You don't have to do this!” yelled Bob, hurrying over to help Frank up. “We can get that thing out of you!!!”

“Katie can't hear you, human.” it snapped.

Bob launched the other access door at her head, but this time she was ready. A spire of flame shot from her fingertips and incinerated it completely. “Now, now... isn't that routine getting a bit old?”

Not bothering to respond, Bob grabbed Frank by the hand and hauled him up off the ground.

“Did you break anything?” he asked, knowing how hard Frank had hit the ground.

“I don't think so.” Frank answered. “Otherwise I'd be feeling it.”

“And just where do you think you're going?!?” the demon roared when she saw them trying to back away.

“Where do you think?” Frank muttered. He turned to Bob. “Do we have anything that can take her out?”

“It'd help if we actually knew what she was. I can't even identify what kind of demon that's supposed to be.”

“It's an Imperial demon.” said Frank, his eyes locked with those of the creature. “We need holy water or something of the sort if we want to kill it. Happen to have any handy?”

“No, but... do you know for sure? The Imperial thing?”

Frank hesitated. “Well, I mean... I'm pretty sure. Does it matter?” Something about Frank's blunt response bothered him, but Bob didn't care. Not right now.

“There's nowhere to hide, Iero-san. You might as well surrender. Perhaps then I may even let your ally live”

“Like hell.” Bob made the move to attack, but Frank raised an arm in caution.

“No.”

“What are you talking about?”

Frank spun around to face him and immediately Bob could see the determination in his friend's face.

“If there's a chance you can get out of here alive, we're taking it.”

“There is no way I'm just going to stand here and watch that... that thing kill you.”

“There's no other way.”

“We're in this 'til the end. I'm not backing out now.”

“I don't believe Frank is giving you a choice.” the Imperial demon cackled.

“Shut up!!!” Bob thundered.

“She's right.” Frank was toying with something on the wrist of his left arm.

“Frank -”

“Here,” he turned around, holding his hand out. In the palm lay the tiny form of the steel I.D. bracelet previously wound around his arm. The letters 'F.A.I.' were initialed into a small rectangular tag tied in with the connecting links, "take this back to the Newark with you."

"I can't just - I can't do this."

"You can and you will." Frank stepped forward and pushed it harder towards Bob.

"Could we hurry this up?" the demon sighed. "I do have other matters to attend to."

Without giving Bob time to argue, Frank tossed the bracelet at him and, reluctantly, he caught it before it fell. "See you around." Frank gave a weak wave and walked over to where the creature was standing.

Before Bob had the chance to say anything else, a pool of black mist gathered around the beast's feet and enveloped both herself and Frank. It closed over them and turned from a fog to smoke to a cloud so dark a pinprick of light couldn't pass through it. Then, as suddenly as it had appeared, it vanished in the wind, leaving nothing in its place but forlorn silence.

A second later, the entire earth seemed to shake. Bob struggled to stand his ground against the tumultuous force, and was completely taken off-guard when, like the gaping mouth of some ravenous beast, the asphalt beneath him tore itself open, swallowing him whole and sucking him into a void as dark as night itself.


~*~



Bob awoke only an hour later, lying on his back behind the edge of a dumpster. Red brick walls rose up on either side and he realized he was in an alley. The sound of nearby traffic caught his ear quickly, and he turned to his left and saw the end of the passageway. Beyond the shadows of the drive, he could see passersby milling around. I'm back on Earth, he thought, relief flooding his senses. But where's -

It took a moment for Bob to remember what had just transpired. When he recalled what had happened to Frank, his shoulders dropped. I have to find him, he told himself. I owe him that much.

Brushing loose dirt from his jacket, Bob stepped out onto the city streets. He shivered slightly as a chilling October gust blew past his face. As he looked around, he saw that the van was nowhere to be seen. He resolved that it must have remained in the netherworld when he had been thrown out. Even if it hadn't, it certainly wouldn't have been in any condition to get him out of there.

The more he thought over the night's previous events, the more it confused him. Why didn't she kill me? Bob thought. She had to have known both of us were hunters. And how did she know his name?

Passing by a cheap-looking cinema, Bob found himself in front of the hole-in-the-wall bookstore marked 'Mythologies and the Supernatural'. There had to be a thousand places like this scattered about Philadelphia, but he figured he might as well check it out while he had the chance. Maybe he could figure out what the demon had been rambling about. The way it'd been talking made it sound as though it had known Frank.

Probably nothing, but still worth looking in to.

Deciding it might be worth the time spent, Bob stepped off the streets and into the rundown shop.


~*~



The taste of blood and sweat was heavy on Frank's lips. His eyes, blindfolded and aching, did little to serve him in his present state of shock. Cumbersome iron shackles bound each of his individual limbs to the ceiling, suspending him in mid-air and inhibiting any attempt at movement. His t-shirt, torn open across the chest by sadistic claws, had changed from alabaster white to an abhorrent shade of maroon, rubbing cruelly against the festering flesh around his wounds.

A small bead of perspiration rolled down the curve of Frank's right temple and down onto his neck, where it soaked into the collar of his shirt an inch from the scorpion tattoo a ways beneath his ear. His head hung low, he called out. “Hello? Can anybody hear me? Anybody?!?” The only response was the echo of his own voice.

You never should have followed her, he told himself angrily. You knew who she was; how could you not have seen this coming? You should have let her kill you when you had the chance. Frank's thoughts were interrupted by the sound of light footsteps coming from somewhere up ahead. Though he couldn't identify the exact location of the intruder, he knew enough to be aware that whatever was coming was not going to be pleasant.

“Hello, Frank.” the visitor cooed. He knew immediately who it was. Even with her voice in the body of another, her arrogence and sultry tone was hard to mistake.

His head rose a little so he could level himself with what he believed to be the demon's eyes. “Nashome.”

“The one and only,” she added, laughing to herself.

“Do you have a valid reason for barging in or did you just come here to torture me again?”

“Hmm... a little of both, but I suppose more of the latter.”

“Oh, joy.” He rolled his eyes beneath the blindfold.

“I actually have a few questions for you, darling. A game, if you will.”

“I can already imagine the fun this is going to be.”

“The rules are very simple,” Nashome continued, ignoring Frank's interruption. “I ask a question, you answer it.”

“Wow, did you come up with that all by yourself? I must say, I'm impressed.”

Nashome sighed. “I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that.”

Frank made his best attempt at a shrug. “Works for me.”

“For each question you answer truthfully, you get one step closer to freedom. Got me so far?”

“Hmm, I'm not sure. You might have to repeat that part again. It seemed a little complicated.”

“Do you want out of here or not, Iero-san?”

“See, that's the thing that's really confusing me right now.” Frank answered. “You made such a big production with the whole other dimension thing and kidnapping me and whatever, but now you're just going to let me go? Doesn't seem your style.”

“I have my reasons.”

“Obviously.”

“Anyway, as I was saying, you get one step closer to safety with each answer. Five questions gets you out.”

“That's all?”

“That's all.”

“Well, that sounds pretty easy. But I'm still trying to figure out exactly what my incentive is. Isn't there some kind of stick to go along with the carrot or some crap like that?”

Without warning, a searing pain tore through Frank's foot, causing him to scream in anguish. With his leg lifted in the air, the warm sensation of blood began to flow down over his ankle and to the hem of his jeans.

“What the hell did you just do?!?”

Frank hung motionless as Nashome lifted the cloth from his eyes, revealing herself standing before him, though not the self he was used to. She had the face of the girl they had found on the street, that was for sure, but her eyes had the same loathsome spark he'd come to know and hate. What made it all the worse was that, clutched in her hand, raised high like some sickening kind of trophy, she held his right pinky toe which had ben severed from his foot. Blood trickled down her fingers and over her lower arm, where it pooled at her inner elbow then fell to the floor.

“Now then,” she grinned, “is that incentive enough?”








Chapter Six


Slanting gracefully through the hospital windows, the beams of early morning sunlight fell across the sterile white sheets of the room's three empty beds. In the fourth, sitting nearest to the chamber's only door, lay Gerard, his inert body cast into shadow by the awkward lighting. His chest, bound tightly in blood-soaked gauze, rose up and down slowly as he breathed. Countless needles and sensors were embedded in the skin of his arms, continually monitoring his blood pressure and pulse for any signs of abnormality.

It was only a few minutes past sunrise when Gerard finally started to come back around. His respiration picked up gradually as his dark-lidded eyes flickered open, allowing him to survey his surroundings.

The large hospital room was frighteningly spartan and flawless. Every wall, every chair, and every tile on the floor was as pale as snow. Only the occasional gray hue took away from the feeling of being trapped in a mental asylum. Gerard felt out of place in the innocence of the stark medical wing, his raven hair and scarlet-stained neck contrasting heavily with the surroundings.

Gerard tried to raise his hand to scratch the itch growing beneath his chin, but found himself unable to due to the sleek set of handcuffs holding him to the railings on the edge of the bed. His other arm was held down in a similar fashion.

“Damn it...” he muttered. His eyes scanned the room, searching for any nearby objects he could somehow grab and use to pry the locks open. Instead, he caught sight of a tiny, almost hidden camera set discretely in the furthest corner of the room. The blinking red light was taped over and the lens had been paled to blend in with the environment. Doing his best to sit up, he winced as he stretched the healing cut on his back. They're watching me? He thought in disbelief. What the hell? If anything, they should be watching that psychotic chick.

Only a second after that thought ran through his head, the room's door opened wide, revealing a pair of white-clad (Surprise, surprise, Gerard thought bitterly) doctors followed closely by four armed police officers. None of them spoke. A few shot sideways glances at Gerard , who sat staring at them as they circled his bed like vultures. The doctors looked over the stationary monitors and charts, jotting notes down onto respective clip boards. Meanwhile, the guards stood motionless around the bed, their weapons held at the ready.

One of the two doctors whispered into the ear of the nearest police officer. He nodded, then stepped forward and grabbed Gerard by the right arm, holding it up for the doctor to work with.

“Hey, what the hell -” Gerard started up, but he was instantly stopped by the other three guards, who raised their weapons in unison, aiming squarely at his head. They didn't say a word, but they hardly needed to. He slumped back into the bed, allowing the doctor to remove one of the IVs protruding near the wrist of his right hand. The man then took out a wad of cotton and placed it over the open wound, taping it down carefully against the raw skin.

As silently as they had entered, the small squadron departed the room. Gerard heard the latch on the door click shut, then a second, louder snap as the police locked the bolt on the other side. Guess they really don't want me getting out. He looked down at the handcuffs that bound him to the bed. Well, it's not like I'm going anywhere.

Drumming his fingers restlessly on the railings of the cot, he let out an agitated sigh. This is officially the greatest week of my life, Gerard thought bitterly. I just don't think it could possibly get any better.

A few minutes later, the lock outside the door snapped open again. This time, only one person walked in, carrying a small lined notepad and a pencil in her hand. Her pants were standard, police-issue blue and he could see a small golden badge hooked to her shirt, but overall she was dressed very casually. A gun holster, carrying what appeared to be a loaded Magnum, was attached to the left side of her belt.

“Hello.” she smiled warmly, taking a seat in the nearby chair.

“Um, hi.” His face was blank. “And you are...”

“Trisha McKee.” she said, introducing herself. “I've been called in to interview you.”

“Interview? What, you a reporter or something?”

Trisha chuckled. “No, not exactly. I'm with the NYPD.”

“Ah. Hence the badge. And the uniform... and the gun.”

“Oh, what, that?” She reached down and took it out carefully. She looked it over for a couple of seconds, then set it down on the table next to Gerard's bedside. “Just ignore it. It's a futile attempt to make us look all tough and intimidating. A load of crap if you ask me.”

“Huh.” Gerard mused, feigning interest.

“So, what's your name?” Trisha asked earnestly.

“John.” he replied sarcastically. “John Smith.”

Trisha smiled mischievously. “Now, Mr. Smith, are you going to cooperate or are we going to have to go to all the trouble of conducting a D.N.A. analysis when you could just as easily tell me right now and spare us the wasted time?”

“Well, I normally love to piss you government types off, but what kind of guy would I be to do that?”

“Certainly not a very nice one.”

“Tell you what,” Gerard leaned forward. “I'll tell you who I am if you tell me what the hell I'm doing here.”

“This is a hospital, you know. This is where we usually bring people when they're bleeding to death in the gutters.”

“That's not what I'm talking about.” said Gerard, indicating the handcuffs around his wrists.

“Ah, of course.” Trisha reached down into the pocket of her pants and withdrew a set of folded papers. She opened them up and, scanning the top few lines, she began reading. “Says here you attempted to murder a miss Michelle Kitari. By means of knife, if I understand correctly.”

“What?”

Trisha shrugged. “That's what the police report says. I mean, if you don't believe me, see for -”

“No, no. It was self defense. She tried to kill me!”

“With what?”

“The knife. It- it was hers.”

“And you managed to get it from her?”

“What the hell, I never even touched that knife.”

“She said that -”

“So you believe her?” Gerard laughed in disbelief. “I can't believe it. What if she's lying?”

“Handy dandy polygraph.” Trisha replied matter-of-factly.

“My fingerprints aren't even on -”

Trisha held up the black leather gloves he'd been wearing.

Swearing quietly, Gerard slouched down again.

“Alright, I held up my part of the bargain. Now, are you going to tell me your name or is this going to have to get difficult? 'Cause we can always -”

“Gerard.” he interrupted.

“Gerard?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you have a last name, Gerard?” she asked, flipping through a few pages of the notepad and holding her pencil over the page in preparation to write.

“Doesn't everyone?”

“Most people I'm aware of.”

“Way.” he replied dryly.

“Alright, Gerard Way.” Trisha murmured as she scrawled the name down. “And where do you hail from?”

“Jersey, actually.”

“Really? Which part?”

“Newark.”

“Ah. Likewise.”

“Huh. Small world.”

The two sat quietly for a moment. Trisha tapped the end of her pencil on the writing tablet mechanically, as if waiting for something to happen.

“So,” Gerard started, breaking the silence, “any more questions?”

“We still have a few things to work out, so... none at the moment.” She stood up quickly. “Guess I should be going.”

“See you around, then?”

“We'll see.”

Just as Trisha reached the door, Gerard called to her, “By the way, did Michelle say why I 'attacked' her?”

She gave him a questioning look. “I'd think that'd be pretty obvious.”

“Not exactly.”

Trisha stood still, sifting through the unfolded papers until she found the one she was searching for. She removed it from the stack and set it face down on the bed next to Gerard's hand.

“A picture's worth a thousand words.” she said mysteriously, and she vanished out the door before he could utter another word.

For a second, Gerard just sat there. He had only glimpsed the colored flip side of the glossy paper. Think this over for once. Do you really want to see what's on the other side?

“Of course you do.” he whispered to himself.

Not allowing himself a seconds hesitation, Gerard reached forward and turned the photograph over.

When he did, his heart felt as though it had been ripped in two. He almost dropped the picture to the ground, but his trembling hands managed to hold tight. This isn't happening, he thought. This can't be real.

Printed out for his eyes to see in all its grisly glory was an image of the skin on his very own back, bearing an intricately cut marking that he recognized all too well. The shape was comprised of clawed markings joined together to create a single, V-shaped symbol. The crests of the icon were angled to the outsides like scythe blades and two similar projections sprouted halfway down the length of the V, flanked below by short adjoining protrusions. At the bottom, a long, straight-edged needle as long as the main body of the figure stretched downwards, ending in a bloody, fine-tipped point. Three carefully placed dots occupied the negative space in the center of the V, decreasing steadily in size as they progressed. The Blood Icon, Gerard thought, his face an expression of horror as he observed the abominable thing that had been carved into his back. I don't believe it. They think I'm a frickin' vampire.

Rubbing his tongue over the canine teeth in his upper jaw, he felt relief upon finding them at normal length. The sunlight, falling against the skin of his arm, was irritably hot, but no more then usual. What the hell is wrong with these people? That would have killed me by now if I was a vampire.

Gerard's stomach growled, reminding him he hadn't eaten in over a day. Trying to calm himself about the whole vampire thing, he looked around for some sort of call button. His eyes glanced over the bedside table, catching sight of what he swore had to be a hallucination. There, standing out prominently against the conflicting white surface beneath it, its stainless edges gleaming in the sunlight was Trisha's Magnum.

I'm dreaming. That's the only explanation. She couldn't just forget... could she? Gerard reached out towards the table, almost reverently, as if afraid the weapon would vanish when he touched it. He had to bend his arm at a strange angle to reach it because of the handcuffs, but when he did, his fingers pressed down onto the smooth, metallic surface of the gun. He wrapped his hand around the firearm, lifting it off the table and into his lap.

Gerard looked up at the video camera. They're probably watching me now. If I want to do something, I'd better do it fast. He knew there was no way he was just going to stay where he was; hospitals were one of most hated places on earth and he sure as hell wasn't going to remain there any longer than he was forced to. Without waiting for a rational thought to pass through his head, he set the gun against the chain of the handcuffs and pulled the trigger.


~*~



The sound of the successive gunshots exploded down the halls of hospital, reverberating off the ceilings with unrivaled ferocity. Standing at the third floor circulation desk, Trisha jumped as the deafening sound shook the ground beneath her feet. Stunned for a second, she quickly realized what had just happened.

“Son of a b***h.” she whispered. Sprinting down the hallway, she screamed at the doctors she passed, “GET THE POLICE DOWN TO 318 NOW!!!”

The door to 318, now looming at the end of the corridor, flew open wildly, nearly ripping itself off its hinges. Standing there in the doorway, dark outline dominant over the snow white walls against his back, was Gerard, Magnum clutched in his trembling right hand. The wound across his back had opened up again, spilling blood onto the medical smock he'd tied over his injured chest. He held the gun close to his heart, keeping the nose aimed down the hallway. Spotting Trisha approaching from the other end of the hall, he lowered the barrel of the weapon and held his arm out further, targeting the spot on her chest where her lungs were positioned.

“Stay back,” Gerard coughed, flecks of blood spraying from his mouth.

“Gerard...” Trisha held her hands out defensively, trying to keep him calm. “You don't want to do this.”

“Who says?”

“Just think it over for a moment.” She started to back away, but Gerard tightened his hold on the Magnum and gestured for her to move forward. “Not including me, there are currently fifteen other cops in this building.” She continued. “You shoot that thing off and every one of them will be here in seconds.”

“Well, I shouldn't have to worry about that. After all, I am a vampire, aren't I? That's what this is about, right?” A tight grin flashed across his face, giving him the fleeting aesthetics of a lunatic. “I don't know what the hell Michelle told you, but I'm about the furthest thing from immortal you'll ever find.”

Trisha scowled. “Then would you care to explain the icon?”

“I didn't even know it was there.” Gerard panted. “Look, you have no idea what I've been through in the last few days. If I had time to explain it all, I would, but right now things are getting really out of hand and I need to leave.”

“The only way you're getting out that door is in a body bag.” Trisha threatened. “Turn yourself in now.”

Gerard shook his head weakly. “That's not going to happen.”

“If you just -” Trisha was interrupted by the sound of a bullet whizzing past her ear, traveling harmlessly by her head and striking Gerard a hair's breath from his left kneecap. He cried out in pain, falling hard on his knees. Trisha wheeled around swiftly and caught sight of Michelle standing at the end of the corridor. Her hands were held tightly around the grip of a gun.

“Are you alright, Trisha?” she asked with concern.

“Fine.” Trisha replied. She shook her head. “You really shouldn't have done that.”

“You'd have rather I let him kill you?”

Trisha sighed. “No.” She paused, then asked, “Think you could go get some of the medical staff to put him under again?”

“I'm not leaving you here alone to watch him. I can do it.”

“I don't think you should -”

“Trish, trust me.” Michelle smirked. “You know me. I can handle myself.”

Trisha seemed to fight with the decision, but finally nodded. “Just be careful, okay?”

“Don't worry about it.”

Setting off down the hall, Trisha took a look back. Michelle waved confidently, attempting to reassure her.

The moment that Trisha was out of sight, Michelle stormed over to where Gerard lay, crumpled and bleeding. Taking hold of him by the neck, she pressed the gun up under his chin and hissed, “End of the line.”

“Maybe for one of us.”

Gerard lashed out violently with his legs, breaking Michelle's grip and knocking her to the ground. She tried to stand up, but he stopped her by delivering a bone-shattering punch to her jaw.

“Agh!!!” she cried out, dropping her weapon and cradling her throbbing chin with both hands.

Feeling little sympathy, Gerard quickly seized both her arms by the wrist and held them tightly behind her back with one hand. Holding the nose of the Magnum against her ear, he growled, “That was a quick switcharoo, wasn't it?”

“Burn in hell, you b*****d.” she hissed.

“Ladies first.” Dragging her down the hall, Gerard made for the stairs up ahead. The entire floor seemed relatively empty, so only a few frightened nurses passed by them as they moved.

”They're going to catch you. And when they do, I hope they drive a stake through that dust you call a heart.” Michelle growled.

Gerard sighed long and hard. “You are some kind of crazy. I don't know what's wrong with you, but as soon as this whole mess is cleared up, I highly recommend you start seeing a therapist. That is, assuming you don't already.”

The walk down the stairs was difficult, as Michelle was attempting to pry herself free every waking second. Gerard nearly tripped and fell at least eight times on the way, giving him the urge to simply push the erratic girl down the steps. Instead, he held her tightly down both flights, never removing the gun from her skull. When they finally did reach the bottom of the stairwell, Gerard found several police officers waiting down the hall, weapons drawn.

“Hey!” one of them exclaimed. The other men turned their attention to Gerard and instantly jumped into action.

Damn it, Gerard thought, his thoughts scrambling. This is going to get messy. Pressing the Magnum harder into Michelle's head, he held her in front of himself like a shield and yelled, “Drop your weapons!!!” The cops faltered, most of them under-trained and unaware of what to do in a situation such as this.

“I'M NOT SCREWING AROUND HERE!!!” Gerard shouted. “DROP YOUR WEAPONS NOW OR I SWEAR I'LL BLOW HER BRAINS ACROSS THE FLOOR!!!”

Hesitantly, the police set their firearms down.

“All of you! On the ground!!!”

Take it easy, he told himself as the police lowered themselves slowly and deliberately. I think you're having a little too much fun. The cops crouched down carefully, keeping their hands held over their heads. The hallway's other occupants just stared in mute horror, some fleeing to the nearest room, others completely paralyzed with fear. Tightening his hold on Michelle's wrists, Gerard steered her past them, fleeing towards the emergency exit up ahead.

“Great plan and all,” Michelle began, “but what do you intend on doing once we get out?”

“I have an idea.”

“Wow, I feel safer already.”

“That's not the point.”

“If you're going to kill me -”

“Wasn't planning on it, actually.” mumbled Gerard, “However, the idea seems more and more appealing every second.”

The exit doors were automatic, saving him the trouble of using one of his inconveniently busy hands to open it. Directly outside the emergency exit was the parking garage, bustling with activity at this time of day.

“You're going to steal a car?” Michelle asked, sounding more annoyed than fearful.

“I'm already wanted for attempted murder and now, kidnapping. What's a little grand theft auto gonna hurt?”

“Depends. Have they created any punishments more torturous than the life sentence?”

“It's called execution.”

“Well as long as you don't off me, that shouldn't be a problem, right?” Michelle said, sounding hopeful.

“I should hope not.”

At the VIP gate in the front of the garage, a large sedan was sitting idle as its occupant busied herself with presenting her parking ticket to the provided machine. She didn't notice as Gerard came up from behind the vehicle until he threw the driver's side door open and grabbed her by the sleeve.

“What the -” she started, but was silenced as Gerard tossed her out of the car and onto the asphalt. He climbed in first, moving up and over the center into the passenger's seat. Michelle was not far behind, but it wasn't like she had any choice. She sat down on the driver's side and set her hands on the steering wheel.

“Hey!!!” The woman on the ground screamed.

“For the record, I'm really sorry about this.” said Gerard as he leaned over Michelle's lap and shut the car door.

“So I'm your chauffeur now?” Michelle asked cynically.

“If you'd prefer the trunk...”

“No.”

“Then let's get moving.”

Michelle looked down at the space between the two seats. “At least it's an automatic,” she muttered. Peeling out of the driveway in a tight U-turn, the car left dark skid marks on the pale asphalt behind it.

Gerard glared at her. “Are you trying to leave a trail?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Michelle demanded. “After all, I am the hostage.”

“Victim.” Gerard corrected. “You're not up to that kind of status yet.”

“I see.” Michelle was silent for a while, watching the road and doing her best to ignore the fact that her very life was in danger. He won't risk killing me 'til he's back home, she thought. At least not while I'm driving.

“So,” she began after a few minutes had passed. “where are we headed?”

“Newark.” Gerard replied, a smile crossing his face. “Time for a homecoming.”

Offline
Chapters 7-8


Chapter Seven


That was a waste of time, thought Bob as he departed the dilapidated bookstore. He had been in there for nearly seven hours searching through volume upon volume on ancient creatures, rituals, and religions, but his search turned up nothing more than the products of overactive imaginations. He sometimes found it hard to believe how severed modern society had become from the spiritual world.

After hailing a passing cab, he checked his watch. The digital readout displayed “Saturday, October 21st, 10:17 A.M.” Ray and Mikey should be back in Newark some time today, he thought hopefully, climbing into the back of the parked taxi. He was looking forward to seeing some familiar faces.

“Where to?” the driver asked.

“You go as far as Newark?”

“Sure thing.”

The cab pulled away from the curb, blowing up a cloud of loose dirt under the wheels.

Over the course of the ride, Bob barely exchanged a word with the taxi driver. His mind was brimming with grim thoughts and ideas that he rather not dwell on, so he busied himself with attempting to pave over them with more appealing, lighter-hearted concepts. However, it didn't take long until he drifted off to sleep and forgot about those things entirely, the repercussions of staying up late into the night finally taking their toll.


~*~



When Bob woke up, he found himself staring out the window of the cab into the heart of the New Jersey city. With most of the community's residents at work or at school, the traffic was light in most parts, allowing the brightly painted car to move through the streets easily. The sun was now arched high in the sky, shining weakly through the layer of cloud and smog that covered the region.

Home, sweet home.

After fifteen more minutes of driving, the cab came to a halt.

“This the place?” the driver inquired.

Bob glanced out the window.

“Yeah, this would be the place.”

“Your total comes to eighty-three dollars and thirty-two cents.”

Bob handed two fifties to the driver. “Keep the change.”

“Thank you, sir. Have a nice day.” The cab driver grinned, then drove off down the street.

Bob sighed as the taxi disappeared into the sparse traffic. Haven't had a nice day in months, he thought. Not like today's going to be any different. He turned to face away from the street.

This part of town was remotely nicer than the area surrounding it, an area which was nothing more than overgrown weeds and low-income housing. Here, at least most homeowners managed to keep their grass cut and their bills paid. The terrain on this side of the street consisted mainly of a mass of irregular hills covered in short, recently-planted trees and well manicured shrubs. Houses were built atop the highest points on the ridges, their front walkways winding down the steep descent to the street where they merged with the sidewalk. Most of the houses themselves were small, two-to-three bedroom rentals with brick exteriors, standing only a story tall with another level below ground.

Bob walked down the paved avenue beside the street until he came to the path leading to the house addressed on its mailbox as '1432 Sycamore Drive'. Two small red oaks grew on either side of the home's front steps, their branches stripped clean of foliage by the season's biting winds. A small box of wild roses hung from the windowsill on the residence's west wall, their scarlet flowers open wide to display to the casual public.

Seeing the flag on the side of the mailbox raised, Bob reached inside and took out the stack of mail that had accumulated in the days that nobody had stepped foot on the premises. At least half of the dull pile was comprised of bills and bank statements, while the rest seemed to be nothing more than the usual promotional junk that always ended up in the waste basket.

The path up to the house was riddled with cracks and crevices where the roots from trees that had once stood nearby had worked their way up through the soil. Bob stepped carefully over the spots where the concrete had been broken and formed into hazardous depressions that had tripped him on more than one occasion. Most people would have been winded by the time they reached the front door, but he'd taken this route so many times it was as natural as breathing.

At the front door, Bob bent down to flip over the corner of the welcome mat, exposing the emergency house key below. We're fighting demons and monsters twenty-four seven with the most high-tech equipment available and this is how we leave our house? Why the hell haven't we been robbed yet? Sighing, Bob slid the key into the lock. It fit perfectly, allowing him to turn the handle and open the door. He set the key back where he'd found it, then stepped inside.

The interior of the house had a muffled atmosphere, a feeling which could be sensed only seconds after entering. Dark velvet drapes blocked out the sunlight that attempted to intrude through the windows, bathing the living room in darkness. The light from the open doorway revealed three corduroy couches of varying sizes positioned around a 23” television set, their upholstery scarred with a range of soda stains and cigarette burns. A computer desk, bearing a lap top and printer, was set up against the back wall next to the copy machine it was linked to.

Dropping the mail on the floor by the door, he collapsed on the longest of the three sofas wearily. He glanced his watch again. 12:04. Time always passed too slowly when he was anxious.

Bob had barely laid down when the doorbell chimed. At first he thought it was his mind playing tricks on him, but when he heard the sound again, he got up off the couch and went to answer the door. The bell rang again.

I'm coming, damn it.

Again. What the hell's the hurry? Bob was starting to consider not even opening the door. However, he gave in to his better judgment and swung the door open. His eyes opened wide with surprise.

Gerard was standing on the front step, one hand clutching a pistol while the other one clung to a girl Bob guessed to be around twenty-four years old. The hospital gown over Gerard's chest was dyed crimson with his own drying blood, that which was still wet dripping down over his jeans and onto his bare feet. Another trail of ruby-red fluid began above his left knee, soaking the tattered denim around the wound. The woman, on the other hand, she seemed to be relatively free of the gore except the little that had rubbed onto her skin from Gerard's grip on her arm.

“Um...” Bob paused, not sure what to say. He looked between the two with confusion. “Dare I ask what's going on?”

Smiling a little, Gerard replied, “If you've got time to hear a long story.”


~*~



Michelle was terrified. Though she tried to hide it, the sweat rolling down her neck gave her away. She was locked in the small bedroom at the end of the house's main hallway. The windows, already barred prior to the chamber's use as a prison, were boarded shut, only allowing slivers of sun to enter the room. Through the wall to the west she could hear Bob and Gerard talking, though the persistent hum of the furnace drowned out most of their words.

It's gonna be fine, she told herself. Trisha knows his name and what he looks like. She'll be able to find him. If anybody can, she will. Michelle could remember back to junior high when the two had become incredibly fast friends. She had then introduced Trisha to Katie and pretty soon they had transformed into a legendary trio.

Some things never change.

The sound of heavy knocking on the door awoke Michelle from her thoughts. She didn't say anything at first, but when the sound came again, she snapped, “Stay back!!!”

“I just want to talk.” It was Gerard. His voice sounded sincere but she didn't put anywhere near that much faith in him.

“You're not coming in!”

“Actually, I could very easily if I wanted to. The door's bolted from this side. But... I want you to be able to trust me.”

“No, you want an invitation.” Michelle hissed. “Vampires can't enter without one.”

“You know what -” The latch on the other side of the entryway opened with a creak and the door swooped inwards, where it came to rest against the wall. Gerard entered, limply slightly on his wounded leg. He approached her, causing her to retreat into the corner of the room, where she fell onto the bed.

“I SAID STAY BACK!!!” she screamed, inching away over the bedspread.

Gerard sat down on the end of the cot, his hands folded over his lap. “I just want to talk,” he repeated.

Michelle looked him over quickly and saw that he wasn't carrying any weapons. He had changed since the hospital incident and now the blood from his injuries was covered up with a clean black cotton t-shirt. She could still see the gash across his throat above the collar, it's edges stitched up hastily.

“Talk about what?”

“Well, obviously we got off on the wrong foot...”

“That's an understatement.” Michelle laughed dryly, relaxing her body a little and allowing her breathing to calm itself.

“I know what you think I am,” Gerard continued, “but, in all honesty, I'm not. That's... in as layman's terms as I can put it.”

“Then what about the icon? I've seen it; I know you have too.”

“I didn't put it there myself.”

“Of course not. If you've been bitten, it's the one already infected that makes the mark.”

“Look.” Gerard pulled the neck of his shirt away from his body so she could see the flesh around his carotid artery. The skin, though slightly bruised, was unbroken and smooth.

“How do I know you haven't been infected in some other way?”

Gerard reached into the pocket of his jeans and extracted a small crucifix strung on a beaded silver chain. He pressed the cross against his palm for a good five seconds, then lifted it off. The only difference on the surface of the hand was a tiny drop in pigment where the relic had been pushed the hardest.

“Happy?”

Michelle bit her lip, then nodded.

“Good.” Gerard stood up. “You're free to come out if you want.”

“Aren't you worried I'll call the police? Cry for help?”

Gerard shrugged. “Nah, we could take you.”

Michelle glared. “I'd like to see you try.”

He sighed. “Whatever.” He gestured to the open door a few feet away. “The offer's on the table

With that, he stepped out of the room, leaving Michelle alone in the silent chamber.








Chapter Eight


Mikey and Ray pulled up alongside the curb of 1432 Sycamore Drive, the dying sunlight glinting off the hearse's bumper. Both were completely worn out from the day-long drive, over the course of which they'd only stopped once for gas. As for Mikey, the only sleep he had managed to get had been filled with nightmares and disturbing dreams, most of which he'd rather not contemplate for fear of losing his sanity.

“Think anybody's home?” Ray asked casually as they approached the sidewalk.

“Hope so.” Mikey murmured.

They ascended the hill rapidly, wanting nothing more than to find themselves resting easily for the first time in a week. Ray caught sight of a muddy boot print on the welcome mat and grinned. “Looks like we're in luck.” He stepped up onto the front step and rapped three times on the door.

A second later, the front door swung open, revealing Gerard standing in the doorway. He beamed warmly, then the corners of his mouth dropped. He glanced from one to the other then laughed, “You guys look like hell.”

“Appreciate it.” Ray grunted. He pushed past him and into the house.

“Hey man.” Mikey was grinning from ear to ear.

“Well, look who decided to show up.” Gerard patted his brother on the back. “Was starting to think we actually lost you.”

“What a sad day that would be, right?”

Gerard shrugged. “We'd get over it.” He steered Mikey towards the door. “Need anything to eat? We've got some leftover Chinese that should still be edible.”

“How long's it been in the fridge?”

“I don't know. Week, maybe two.”

“Alright. I'm starving - I'll risk it.”

Just as Mikey entered the house, Michelle emerged from the hallway. “Well, I haven't seen anything on the news about it, so it's probably not -” Her sentence cut off as she caught sight of him. “Oh, hello.”

“Um, hi...” Mikey didn't recognize the woman who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere, but he had a feeling there was most likely a long back story to her presence. He decided that he'd save that for later.

“Oh, right.” Gerard mumbled. “Mikey, this is Michelle Kitari. Michelle, this is my brother Mikey.”

“'Sup.” Michelle gave a curt nod, then dropped down onto the nearest sofa.

Mikey looked around the room. Ray was already busy turning his lap top on and Bob was reading on the smallest of the three couches.

“Where's Frank?” Mikey asked suddenly, noticing they were short a person.

Gerard hesitated. “We... don't know.” he said admittedly.

“What do you mean?” Mikey turned to look at him “I thought he and Bob were...”

“There was a problem.”

“What happened?”

“That's what we're trying to figure out.” said Michelle. “Ever heard of something called an Imperial demon?”

“It... sounds familiar,” Mikey answered, “but I'm not sure where I would have heard it. Have you searched the field guides?”

“All twenty.” Bob answered, holding up the one he was currently scanning through.

“Internet?”

“I can handle that.” Ray answered from across the room.

“But... he is alright... isn't he?”

“That's –“ Gerard started, faltering a little, “We... we can't know for sure.”

Mikey sighed. “Is there anything I can help with?”

Gerard shook his head. “You and Ray should get some rest.”

“I'm not going to get to sleep anyways.” Mikey persisted. “Please. I want to help.”

“If you can find something to do, have at it.” offered Gerard. “We've searched every form of available media and we're running out of ideas.”

“Library?”

“Mikey, when I say everything I mean -”

“Sion?”

“Did you -” Gerard froze. “Wait, what did you just say?”

“Dr. Sion. Have you visited him yet?”

A look of surprise dawned on Gerard's face. “I don't believe it. How the hell did we forget about Sion?”

“I have no clue.” Bob replied. He stood up quickly, setting the book he'd been searching through down on the couch.

“I can go talk to him.” suggested Mikey. “If you guys want to keep looking here...”

“We don't have anything hanging around here that'll help us out.” said Gerard. “We might as well all go.”

“This Sion guy,” Michelle began, “who is he? I've heard his name before – I think one of my friends has mentioned him - but I can't say I've ever met him.”

“He's a historian of sorts. He's pretty much the most reliable source on the supernatural in this world and the next.”

“But is he willing to help?”

Gerard nodded. “He's an old friend.”

“Well, are we going or are we just going to stand here and talk about it?” Ray asked, now standing impatiently by the door.

“The sooner we can find Frank the better.” Gerard agreed, hurrying to join him.

“Then let's get going.”

The group got up in unison, moving towards the front door. Ray left his computer open on the desk, grabbing the car keys he'd set on the table and pushing in his chair all in one swift movement.

“Did you park it on the street?” Gerard asked cautiously.

“Yeah, because it blends in so well.” Ray muttered sarcastically, rolling his eyes. “It's in the alley a few blocks down.”

Ray set his hand on the doorknob, preparing to turn it to leave. However, the sound of a sudden thump outside the door caused him to stop.

“What was that?” He turned around to face the rest.

Bob shrugged. “Does the paper come on Saturday? At night?”

They all stared at Ray, waiting for him to do something. Flicking his wrist to the left, he pulled the door open and nearly fell backwards.

“H-holy s**t.” Ray managed to stutter.

The rest of the group moved to where they could see. Their eyes fell upon the pitiful form of Frank Iero, torn and bleeding on the doorstep.


~*~



The driveway up to Sion's mansion of a home was foreboding in the dark. The towering willows that lined the road hung low over the pavement, obscuring the moonlight and leaving only the hearse's headlights to illuminate the path. Ray was behind the wheel with Gerard riding shotgun. Bob, Mikey, and Michelle rode in back with Frank, doing their best to keep his blood where it belonged. However, it wasn't just the blood loss they were worried about.

A dark red fungus, stemming from the palm of his right hand, was growing outwards and spreading over his body. It had already reached up to his shoulder and was now inching its way up his neck and across his chest. Black welts were beginning to form where the rot had stayed the longest, digging deeply into Frank's skin and drawing out dangerous amounts of blood.

“Are you sure Sion can cure it?” Michelle asked fearfully.

“If anybody can, it's him.” answered Gerard.

“Do you know what it is?”

“Varatis.” Gerard replied. “It's an Otherworld virus. It can only reach our dimension through carriers who travel to our plane of existence.”

“Is it contagious?”

“Only if the carrier purposefully wants it spread.”

“So whoever did this to him either wants him dead or at least in serious pain.” Mikey concluded.

“It's terminal?” Michelle's words came out as more of a statement than a question.

“Only if it's not treated.” Gerard assured her.

The occupants of the car were silent as the hearse approached a set of wrought iron gates on the path ahead. They were flanked by two towering stone pillars that connected with a perimeter-length wall on either side, trailing off into the dense forest beyond their line of sight. A series of gargoyle-like, demon-faced creatures were carved into the columns, their mouths opened in horrible facial distortions. Their eyes, made of inlaid red quartz, stuck out against the surrounding limestone, glowing like hot coals in the given light.

“Cheery place, isn't it?” Michelle mumbled.

“The good doctor's renowned for it.” Ray replied.

“Then how come I've never heard of him?”

Ray shrugged. “Maybe you're not in with the right crowd.”

“I highly doubt it.” Gerard interjected, turning around in his seat to face Michelle.

“And what's that supposed to mean?” she demanded, eyes blazing.

“First off: the majority of the civilian populace doesn't even know vampires exist, much less know how to recognize the Blood Icon.”

Michelle frowned. “So I'm up on my superstitions. Sue me.”

“Two: most people in New York don't carry around knives, katanas, or other forms of dangerous weaponry. To be more specific, ones made out of silver.”

“They're steel, not -”

“They were silver.” Gerard argued. “Steel doesn't have the same sheen.”

“That doesn't mean -”

“And three: you don't do a very good job of covering the tattoo on your elbow.”

“I don't know what you're talking about.” Michelle stammered.

She ran a discrete hand nervously down the skin of her left arm, trying in vain to cover the marking there. None of the others had noticed what Gerard's sharp eyes had caught, but he'd recognized it almost as soon as he'd seen it in the light. Now all of them could see the black outline of an imprinted image on her flesh, visible easily under the rear cabin's light.

“You're a hunter, aren't you?” Bob asked, looking at her from the other side of the vehicle.

“Does it matter?”

“No,” Gerard said calmly, “but I just don't understand why you didn't tell us before.”

“You should.” she spat. “Seems like you of all people would respect the need to stay hidden.”

“Yeah, but it's not like we're cops or anything.” said Mikey.

“No, it's - it's not like that, but...” Michelle took a breath. “It's complicated.”

Ray pulled up beside the pillars of the archway. A small intercom was positioned at window level, situated at a level where it was easy to press the call button.

“Humor us.” Mikey's eyes were locked with hers.

“Please... it's nothing, really.” Michelle mumbled, looking away. The rest of the group went silent.

A few seconds later, the speaker on the column crackled to life and a raspy, deep-throated voice barked, “Do you have an appointment?”

“Do we need one?” Ray asked, tilting his head up to look into the camera he knew was hidden in the eye of the gargoyle above the intercom.

“Why Raymond!” the speaker exclaimed. “I barely recognized you. What is the reason for your visit today?”

“It's actually kind of urgent.” Ray answered. “We need your help immediately.”

“Of course. I will open the gates right away.”

The intercom went silent and a moment later, the massive iron gates swung open. Ray pushed the gas pedal down gently, easing onto the winding, even more overgrown path that led past the main gate. Up ahead, they could see the light of the manor through the branches of the withered trees.

Rolling slowly to a stop, the hearse parked in the circular drive out in front of the house. Michelle and the rest of the group in back still couldn't see the mansion in all its splendor due to the plush velvet curtains over the car's back windows, but, as she stepped outside and into the cool night air, she breathed in sharply as she took her first look.

The manor walls, constructed entirely of stone, towered over the surrounding trees, rising six stories off the ground and into the sky. Twin parapets rose on either side of the home, their roofs spiking into the sky and disappearing in the darkness. Vibrantly lit stained glass lined every visible window, sending sparkling waves of color down onto the dirt of the grounds. The main entrance, centered below a vast, flower-shaped motif, was carved of an ancient wood Michelle failed to identify. It's beautifully cut surface was ornamented with intricately cut designs and patterns. Masterfully crafted limestone buttresses linked the oddly proportioned floors of the mansion together, descending in graceful arcs from one story to the next.

“It's a cathedral.” Michelle breathed in wonder. “It's – it's amazing.”

“You get used to it.” Mikey grunted, helping Bob lift Frank out of the back of the hearse. The stretcher Frank was lying on was stained crimson with the fluids that hadn't been stopped by the dripping bandages around his mid-section.

Gerard led the way to the door, flying up the front steps at record speed. Ray was close behind, followed by Bob, Mikey, and Frank, then Michelle. When he reached the top of the stairs, Gerard approached the door carefully, his hand reaching out to ring the presented bell. Through the thickly grained door, he heard a faint chime, followed by a chilling silence.

“Do you think he heard?” Ray asked reproachfully.

“In a place this big, it hardly seems possible...” said Gerard, “But I wouldn't put it past Sion.”

Gerard's faith was rewarded by the sound of heavy footsteps on the other side of the entryway. The sound stopped upon his arrival at the door. After a short series of clicks and the snapping of bolts, the doors flew open, revealing the man inside.

Or, at least, what Michelle had assumed was a man.

Standing almost as tall as the twelve-foot arch around him, the creature in the doorway loomed over Gerard like a monolith. The light of the house to its back, Michelle could only make out two tiny black eyes in the shadow cast across its face, but she could tell there was something there that wasn't human. A quick flash of pink shot out from its mouth and then vanished again.

A forked tongue? Michelle thought, fear starting to creep into her blood. What is this thing?

As if answering her silent question, the creature bent low over the group, reaching its hand out in greeting. Gerard returned the friendly gesture with a smile.

“I am glad you could stop by.” said the beast. It was then that Michelle recognized the voice as that of the man on the intercom.

“As am I, Dr. Sion,” Gerard started, “but I wish we could come with better tidings.”

Sion looked over Gerard and to the stretcher Mikey and Bob were carrying. His face turned somber when his eyes fell on Frank.

“Bring him in.” He held the door open so they could enter easily.

Just as Michelle passed through the archway, she heard the faint roar of thunder in the distance.

“Forecast said sunny skies for a week.” Sion muttered to no one in particular. “Shows how much the implements of men are good for.” He closed the great wooden doors silently, their well-oiled hinges not emitting a single creak as they swung shut.

Michelle couldn't help but stare in awe at Sion as he moved gracefully down the corridor, the hem of the scarlet robe he wore brushing gently against the floor. His hands hung out from the embroidered edges of the garment, revealing the moss green scales of his flesh and four wickedly curved charcoal claws on each hand. Designs of gold thread were sewn into the cerise fabric, curving asymmetrically over his back and across his shoulders. It took a few moments for her to pry her eyes off him, but eventually she managed to, and when she did, her eyes began soaking up the elegance of the colossal manor.

Its ceiling soaring high into the air, the incredible main room of the mansion gave little doubt to the fact that this magnificent place had once been a church. Gallant archways lined every wall, leading back into a long, winding hallway pocketed with chapels. Where the pews had once been, bookshelves were packed in tightly, creating a maze of muffled corridors that looked nearly impossible to navigate. In some places, as many as four shelves were stacked on top of each other, supported by affixed steel rods that held them together and kept them from toppling to the ground far below.

From the roof hung hundreds of paintings and weavings, their images large enough to be seen all the way from the floor. A large mural was painted across the central dome of the room, its image including everything from cherubim to demons, from angels to vampires. Nearly everywhere she looked, Michelle's eyes caught the protective presence of the cross, whether it be painted, crafted , or carved. The largest such symbol hung low above the center of the altar that stood in the middle of the room, the distance from its top to its base easily the height of two, maybe even three, stories.

In the nooks and crannies that were the chapels, she saw dozens of sacred characters portrayed flawlessly as statues, their marble eyes staring out watchfully over the inhabitants of the house. They were escorted by hundreds of stone angels and saints, the likenesses of which were spread out over the entire layout of the nave.

As the group followed Sion down the cleared center isle of the library, they passed by a Baptismal font made entirely of glass. Michelle gazed over its expertly forged design and wondered how a thing of such beauty could be created by human hands. Then again, maybe it wasn't.

Passing around the circular altar and into the choir, she glanced back and saw that the room's distinctive centerpiece was hidden by a delicate white veil. She couldn't help but wonder what was hidden back there, but she decided that if Sion had taken the trouble to cover it, there must be a good reason why. They continued on, trudging up and over the high altar and back into the rear chapel.

This room was slightly less cluttered than the library, but its ceiling was much lower, giving it a more confined feeling. A small stained glass window depicting the Last Supper was positioned in the center of the chamber's east wall. The downpour that had started outside kept up a torrential onslaught against the vivid panes, drowning out the low rumble of the accompanying thunder.

“Set him on the ledge.” Sion ordered, indicating one of two stone tables located on either side of the room. It was built next to a life-size statue of the Virgin Mary, her hands held together in prayer.

Bob and Mikey did as he commanded, placing the stretcher carefully on the bench. A small trickle of blood rolled down the canvas, pooling at the corner and dropping silently to the floor below.

Sion flicked a switch by the doorway and immediately the room was flooded with light. Frank groaned a little, trying weakly to move his hand up to cover his eyes.

Now that she could see, Michelle had a clear, head-on view of Sion and she could witness what she hadn't seen before. The hood of his robe down, she caught sight of the jagged spines growing from the crest and chin of his reptilian head, as well as his powerful fanged jaws. His clothing, tailored from what at some point would have probably fit a human, had two extra sleeves sewn level with his abdomen. It wasn't until then that she noticed the extra, shorter set of arms growing below his others.

Realization dawning on her, Michelle turned to Ray and whispered, “And you didn't tell me Sion was a dragon why?”

“Honestly thought it didn't matter.” he replied.

“How could it not matter? I thought they were extinct.”

“Most people do. Well, actually, most people don't even believe in them in the first place, but that's beside the point.” Ray mumbled. “Just because the dragons died out on earth for a short period of time doesn't mean that they disappeared forever.”

Now Sion was bent over Frank, his tiny eyes examining the Varatis growth. With his extra appendages, he lifted the infected limb up closer to his face as his principal arms made the sign of the cross over his chest.

“An infection I've seen far too recently.” Sion mumbled to himself. He pressed a claw gently into the welt on Frank's palm, retracting instantly when the wound started to bleed. “Fortunately,” he began, turning to face the rest of the group, “the disease is in its infancy and can be cured easily.”

“Is there anything we can do?” Gerard asked hopefully.

“The cure itself is really quite simple. Recuperation, however, can take anywhere from an hour to a day to a week to as long as a month.”

“A month?!?” Gerard was aghast. “We don't have a month.”

“It is not up to me to decide.” Sion said, shaking his head sadly. “I can begin treatment tonight, but I cannot make any promises as to when he will be healthy again.”

Gerard cursed softly.

“If it's any consolation,” said Sion, his head almost hitting the ceiling as he stood up, “I believe I know what has done this to your friend.”

“An Imperial demon.” Bob said, nodding. “We already know.”

“Indeed,” Sion consented. “but that is all you know, yes?”

“We've been searching for information on it, but we're coming up with nothing. That's why we were originally going to come to you.”

“I see.” Sion made his way over to the light switch and turned it off. He walked back to the chamber's open door and motioned for them to come.

“Follow me, if you will.”

Leaving Frank on the table, they moved quietly towards Sion.

“I have something to show you.”

Sion led them out of the chapel and back into the library, retracing the path they had taken initially. Within ten yards of the main entrance, he took a sharp right turn down another open passageway through the bookshelves. Gerard, Mikey, Ray, Bob, and Michelle struggled to keep up with the doctor's massive stride. Up ahead they could see one of the room's many archways, leading into what looked like another ambulatory. Sion ducked a little as he passed through the adjoining chamber's doorway, taking care not to scratch the stunning woodwork on the door frame with the sharp quills on his skin.

This new room was lit by the small chandelier that hung in the center of the room, its edge rimmed with nine glowing candles. Below it, a tremendous grotto-like shaft dropped down into the earth, its walls speckled with sparkling crystal and geodes. Suspended from the ceiling by a series of dense steel cables and pulleys, a hefty lift dominated the main part of the hole, its sides lined with railings to prevent any mishaps.

The platform itself was easily large enough to hold four creatures of Sion's size, so fitting the small group onto it was a cinch. Sion pressed a button on the mechanism's control panel and the lift began its descent.

“So...” Gerard's voice trailed off, “are you going to tell us where we're going or is it part of the surprise?”

“You should know by now that I have a flare for the dramatic, Gerard.” Sion replied with a tight grin. “And besides, I believe you may be interested in what I am about to show you.” He glanced down at Michelle and added, “One of you in particular.”

The lift slowed to a stop. Past its gate, they could see a hollow in the grotto's wall where another passage had been dug.

“I'm guessing these didn't come with the church?” Ray asked, indicating the tunnels.

“The stairs were a bit too narrow.”

They followed Sion again, which was easier this time as he had to move slower on account of the corridor's low ceiling. The dirt floor of Sion's tunnel shifted to brick as they reached the man-made part of the basement, and they instantly felt a breath of cold air brush against their faces.

“Hell of a draft you've got down here.” Gerard muttered.

Sion chuckled. “You can credit that to our guest.”

“Guest?”

“She proved a little too hostile to keep upstairs in the guest quarters, so I've had her placed in the catacombs. She still manages to create quite a tempest.” Sion joked.

“What exactly are you planning on showing us?” Gerard inquired.

Sion stopped. “See for yourself.” He made a gesture to the left. “You're standing right next to her.”

The entire group turned as one. Before them sat a rounded cave, its entrance blocked with iron bars. The narrow door was padlocked shut and looked impervious to damage. A line of what looked like blood was painted across the ground by the base of the bars, a measure they assumed had a much more spiritual use than physical.

However, it was the cage's inhabitant that quickly caught their eyes. As they looked into the hollowed prison, Michelle knew immediately who it was.

“Katie.” she whispered, so softly that none of the others even heard her.

Offline
Chapters 9-11


Chapter Nine


At the same time on the other side of the country, in the small town of Selene, California, the sky was clear and the sun was out, going down in its final blaze of glory before twilight. However, the gentle calm outside the town's police station was broken by shouts of hatred and anger, spewed forth by the violent mob that fought to break inside. The only thing that stood between the growing horde and the sheriff's department was a narrow line of cops and state troopers, their riot gear at the ready in case the group made any attempt to move closer. Screams of hostility and malice erupted from the seething crowd, their loathing driven by the nonstop prodding of the mob's frenzied leaders.

“KILL IT!!!” one woman at the front of the mass shrieked. “KILL IT BEFORE IT KILLS US!!!”

“Back to hell, demon!!!” a young priest cried out, waving a wooden crucifix in the air. “How dare you defile the children of God?!?”

“We should burn it at the stake!!!” A group of teens cried out. Their suggestion was met by roars of approval from the crowd.

“BURN IT! BURN IT!” they began to chant. Half of the mob carried weapons, ranging from stones they'd simply picked off the ground to a series of men toting loaded shotguns. They held them high, threatening the frightened police to stand aside.

Inside the police station, three cops remained as last resort defenses against the infuriated townsfolk. They stood spread out through the building, their weapons drawn and their minds prepared to use lethal force if necessary. The swarm outside was baying for blood and the police had little doubt that it could get that bad.

“They're everywhere.” Deputy Adam Matthews gulped. This was only his first week on the force and he had officially decided that once this was all over, it would also be his last.

“Just take it easy.” Will Friedrick cautioned from across the room. “Backup's on the way from LA. They should be here some time in the next hour.”

“Do you think they'll stay back that long?”

“We can hope.”

Will made his way over to the jail cells in the rear of the building, leaving Adam to bicker with his partner in the main room. The back of the structure was lit by a single low-hanging fluorescent lamp, its narrow beam of illumination casting distorted shadows over the boxes and shelves that lined the warehouse-like space. In the dim light, he could see the lone figure huddled in the furthest corner of the prison, her body curled in on itself in defense.

“Um, hey...” Will whispered as he crouched down next to the bars. The girl lifted her head cautiously, revealing a dark, tear-soaked face.

“Hey.” she said, smiling a little.

“How you holding up?”

“Pretty good.” she sniffed.

“That's... good.”

Both knew things weren't going well, but neither wanted to talk about it. Instead, an unsettling quiet fell over the room, seeming to widen the gap between them even further.

“They want to kill me, don't they?” she asked, finally breaking the silence.

“No, Melody, it's not like that.”

“Yes it is. I can hear them. Outside.”

“It's not your fault.”

“Then why?” she pleaded. “Why do they want to hurt me?”

“They – they're afraid of you.”

“I told them. I told them the truth. Why didn't they stop?”

“That's not why they're scared. The fact that they know what you are... it doesn't keep them from being afraid.”

Melody shook her head weakly, her ebony hair rubbing against the chestnut skin of her cheeks. “I don't want to be this.”

“It's gonna be alright.” Will said comfortingly. “We'll find someone who can help you. You're going to be fine. I promise.”

“But what if I'm not?” Melody pleaded. “You weren't there that night. You didn't see what what they saw. What I did.”

“It wasn't your fault.”

“You don't understand!!!” she cried. “You have no idea what it feels like! This thing inside of me - every second it gets worse. At first I didn't have any control over the urge, but now... now it's making me want it. Crave it. Last night, it didn't make me kill - I... I chose to. It was my fault...”

At first, Will didn't know how to respond. He was torn between sympathy and revulsion, both sides tugging at him with equal strength. He had known Melody for twenty years and he had always trusted her. But this was different. This wasn't just another fight or a disagreement. She isn't even human anymore, thought Will. How do you know she's the same person?

“You're wrong.” Will finally managed to reply. “Even if it feels like you're the one doing this, I know you're not. You know you're not. You're the most selfless person I've ever met and I know you would never do something like that. Ever. You'd give your own life to save another in a heartbeat. No matter what that thing does to you, no matter what it says, you'll always be in there – the sweet, caring girl I've known all my life. And none of this - absolutely none of this – will ever be your fault.”

Melody burst into tears, running forward and throwing her arms through the bars. She embraced Will tightly, sobbing into his shoulder as he ran a hand through her hair. For a second, Melody forgot about the terror around her. She felt invincible under Will's protection.

“I love you.” she whispered.

“I love you too.” Will replied, his eyes watering. And for that fleeting moment in time, it was the only thing that mattered. Sadly, both he and Melody knew that these feelings were not meant to last.

The thunderous explosion of a gunshot shattered the temporary state of bliss, its sound ringing off the walls and tearing at Melody's ears. She lurched backwards, letting go of Will and retreating from the bars.

Standing in the doorway to the back room, their weapons raised in enmity, was the bloodthirsty mob. They advanced slowly, their eyes never leaving Melody for a second.

“Will,” she whimpered. “Will, do something.”

Will didn't respond. He just sat there, his head hung low over his chest.

Melody inched forward, setting her hand on the side of his face. “Will? Will, are you -” She felt a warm sensation pass over her fingers. She pulled her hand back and shrieked in panic as she watched the vermilion tint of blood flow down her knuckles. “No...” she moaned. “No, Will, you can't...”

Will's head lolled to the side, exposing the gaping wound imbued by the scatter shot that had embedded itself into the back of his skull. His lifeless body fell to the ground in a sickening heap, where it lay motionless in the growing pool of crimson around it.

“No!!!” Melody screamed. “WILL!!!”

“He forfeited his life the moment he sold himself to the devil.” Melody looked up to see a young priest standing at the front of the crowd, rifle clutched firmly in his right hand. “May God have mercy on his soul.”

Convulsing with sobs, Melody fought to stand up. Her last loved one in the world was now dead. Almost instantly, the sorrow in her heart turned to anger.

“As for you, demon,” the priest continued, crossing himself with his free hand, “the spawn of Satan shall be banished back to hell where it belongs!”

Melody licked her lips. Will had made the hunger in her stomach tolerable before, but with nothing left to hold on to, she felt the last ounces of her humanity slipping away. They stole your life, the creature inside her hissed. They took everything you had. Now they want to finish the job. But you're not going to let them do that, are you?

No, she thought instantly. They're not going to take anything else.
The priest set aside the gun and drew a sharpened wooden stake from the inside of his jacket. Another member of the mob handed him a claw hammer, which he graciously accepted.

“You want to play, Father?” the beast growled through Melody's throat. “Name the game.”

“Leave her now, demon!” the priest exclaimed.

“Heh. I think not.”

He stepped forward. “I said leave!!!”

“No.”

“NOW!!!”

“What part of 'no' do you not understand?” she hissed, her eyes filled with utter loathing.

“Enough of this!” a man from the crowd cried. “Kill it now!”

Plucking up the courage to move closer, the priest walked straight up to the bars and grabbed Melody by the neck. She let him drag her forwards, her lips curved in a malicious smile. Did he really think he could take her that easily?

Raising the stake over his head, he began reciting the last rights.

“You do realize that demons can't go to heaven?” Melody asked, showing little interest and baring her fangs. “You know, just saying...”

As the priest went through the speech, the demon inside her grew restless.

Do you really want to sit here and listen to this? it growled.

No.

Then do it now.

Without warning, Melody thrust her head through the bars, sinking her teeth into the priest's neck. He screamed in pain, his hands flying up to try and wrench her away from his throat. The stake and the hammer dropped from his grip onto the blood-soaked floor of the jail. As she dug deeper into his flesh, the carnal appetite in her stomach unleashed itself fully, terrifying the rest of the mob as she relished in the taste of his vital fluids.

When she had drank her fill, she pulled her head back through the bars and watched with morbid pleasure as the priest's body slid down onto the floor next to Will's. The rest of the mob stood perfectly still, their mouths agape with horror. A few were crying or even praying as they watched and waited for Melody's next move.

The demon inside her laughed. Flashing a sadistic smile only she could see, it whispered,

Now, how do we dispose of the rest?








Chapter Ten


Back in Sion's manor, a hushed silence had befallen the group.

Bob turned towards Michelle. “You know her?” he asked in astonishment.

Michelle nodded slowly. “Yeah. She's... one of my closest friends.”

“Hold the phone.” Gerard held a hand up. “You mean this is the demon that tried to kill Frank?”

“No, not truly.” Sion replied. “Though the demon was in her body, Katherine was not responsible for what the creature made her do. With the demon now exorcised, she is as innocent as you or I.”

“I thought you said she was too hostile to keep upstairs -” Gerard started.

“Humans are capable of being dangerous without being possessed.” answered Sion.

“But hat happened to the demon?” asked Ray.

“Regrettably, she escaped. I had attempted to trap her in some form of binding circle, but she fled before I could succeed.”

“Will she remember any of it?” Mikey jerked a thumb at Katie.

“Most likely, yes,” Sion replied, “though her recollection of events may be hazy. Demonic possessions are incredibly traumatic and the human mind does its best to block out the memories. Only the strongest of wills can tolerate the mutilation of consciousness brought on by infestation.”

“Do you think she's one of them?”

“You know, you can stop talking like I'm not in the room.”

They all turned to see Katie leaning back against the cell's wall, arms crossed casually over her chest.

“Katie!” Michelle cried out with joy.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in. At least there's somebody here I'm glad to see.” Her eyes scanned the group, looking them over critically. “Can I help you folks or did you just come for the free zoo, because I'm sorry to inform you -” Katie caught sight of Bob standing towards the back of the tunnel and her sentence cut short. “Oh hell, I know you.”

“I was about to say the exact same thing.” Bob responded.

“You were... were...” Katie's throat dried up as the memories of the previous night began to flood back into her head. Her knees buckled slightly, causing her to slide down the wall and to the ground.

“Is she alright?” Gerard asked with concern.

“No...” Katie mumbled. “I didn't... didn't want to tell her...”

Michelle knelt down beside the prison. “Katie, what's wrong?” she begged, concern obvious in her voice.

“She knows... she knows...”

“What?” Michelle leaned forward. “What does she know?”

“Everything.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm the sobs swelling up in her throat.

“Katie, it's okay,” Michelle reassured her. “Just tell us what you told her.”

“I didn't 'tell' her anything.” Katie choked. “She just... reached in and took it. I tried to stop her... I swear I did, but it didn't help. She found out...”

Michelle was about to say something else, but Katie was speaking again.

“And it wasn't just the Underground.” Katie whispered. “She knows about them, too.” She raised a weak hand and pointed towards the men outside the cell.

“I don't get it.” said Mikey. “How do you know anything about us?”

“I don't. That's why she needed him.”

“Who?” Michelle begged.

“That conniving b***h.” Bob breathed. The rest of the group turned to look at him.

“That's why she took Frank.” he told them. “She needed someone who knew us.”

“It wasn't his fault.” Katie murmured. “It's impossible to deny her.”

“What did he tell her?”

Katie shook her head sadly. “Everything she wanted to know.”

“Why is she doing this?” Gerard asked, bending down closer to the bars.

“I – I'm not entirely sure. She said something about the war...”

Gerard's mind ran into overdrive as that word entered into his ears. “The war?”

She nodded. “They're hunting down the groups of humans which pose a threat, then they try to convert them.”

“What if they refuse?” he asked, remembering what had happened only nights ago in the hotel. Could that have been the demon's reason for luring him in?

“They get one last chance not to involve themselves. If they do...”

“They eliminate them.” Sion finished. “They are not cutting any slack.”

“Listen,” Katie started. She seemed to have reverted to her usual calm. “there's something about your friend Frank you don't know.”

“What are you talking about?” Ray's eyes narrowed. “We tell each other everything.”

“Everything?” she scoffed. “That's quite an assumption.”

“How would you know anything about him we don't?”

“Have you ever tortured him while possessed by an otherworldly, bloodthirsty demon?”

“Well, obviously not...”

“Then you have no idea what goes on inside that head of his.”

“And what exactly would that be?”

Katie opened her mouth to speak, but she stopped herself. “I actually shouldn't be telling. It's really one of those more heart-to-heart things, and I don't feel this is exactly the right situation for it to come out.”

“You do realize,” said Sion, “that you are not going to get out of that cell any time soon if you fail to comply?”

“Oh, bite me.” Katie glared at him. “I'm trying to respect his privacy.”

“Katie does have a point.” Michelle said defensively.

“What if it's important? What if it could mean the difference between winning and losing this 'war'?” Mikey demanded, stepping forward.

“Trust me.” Katie muttered. “It doesn't.”

“You're sure?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“Then why the hell are you making such a production of it?”

“A production? What kind of 'production'?” she asked, her agitation growing. “All I'm saying is that you should ask him yourself instead of me just giving you the outsider's play-by-play when he might not even want you to know. Besides, I'm pretty sure I'd trust him to remember the whole thing better than myself. Why don't you just ask him?”

“Well, I certainly would,” Mikey growled, “under the circumstances that you hadn't infected him with a terminal disease and sent him into a virally-induced coma.”

“Yeah, 'cause that was all my idea. Nothing to do with the whole 'demon possession' thing.” She and Mikey glared at each other, and Mikey was just opening his mouth to fire another volley when Ray cut in.

“Honestly,” Ray interrupted, trying to break up what he knew could easily turn into full-fledged combat, “why won't you tell us?”

“I already told you.” she said with exasperation. “It's because I respect his right to keep the things he wants to stay secret hidden. If he hasn't told you, it's obviously for a good reason, and if it hadn't been for Nashome, I would have never even known in the first place.”

Nobody spoke for a second. They all exchanged awkward glances back and forth, not sure exactly who should say something. Katie seemed to have overcome her brief panic attack and was now standing confidently beside the edge of the cell, her hands gripping the bars nearest to her. She waited patiently as the others thought over what she'd just said.

“She's right,” Gerard, finally said shattering the silence. “Besides, if it was important, Frank would have told us, right?”

Bob and Ray nodded, but Mikey hesitated.

“But what if he wouldn't?” he argued. Though the people around him couldn't see it, he was becoming more tense by the second. “What if he was worried that it would affect our trust in him somehow?”

“He knows we trust him,” Gerard said. “He'd tell us anything, no matter what.”

Katie chuckled to herself. “Do you have any idea how arrogant you sound?”

“You know what, you can just shut up.” Mikey snapped. “This doesn't involve you.”

“Actually, it does.” she argued, setting her hands on her hips.

“Can you just be quiet for what would probably be the first time in your natural life -”

“It's because you know I'm right, isn't it?”

“Shut up,” Mikey snarled, anger bubbling up inside him.

“You think you're so buddy-buddy with him that he'd tell you even his deepest, darkest secrets? The ones he has nightmares about every time he shuts his eyes? The ones that make him afraid of himself?”

“I SAID SHUT UP!!!” Mikey roared, shocking the people that stood around him.

Katie backed away slightly, but she gave him a victorious smirk and muttered, “In my opinion, there are some secrets that should never be shared. Looks like Frank feels the same way.”

“I've heard enough of this.” Mikey turned to Sion, fuming. “We should go.”

“What about Katie?” Michelle demanded. “Are you going to let her out or are you just going to leave her down here to rot?”

“If she can promise not to be as disruptive as she was before.” Sion replied.

“I'll be good.” Katie sighed, kicking the dirt at her feet.

“Then I see no reason not to.” Sion crouched down to level himself with the prison door's lock. He drew a key from the folds of his robes and slid it into the hole, turning it to the right and activating a small series of tumblers within the mechanism. The door swung open easily, allowing Katie to exit.

Stretching her arms over her head, she yawned. “Ah, sweet freedom.”

Mikey shot her a withering glare, then turned away to follow Sion, who had already started off down the corridor.

“What's his deal?” Katie asked, dropping back to the end of the group to talk to Michelle.

“Who? Mikey?”

“Yeah.”

“Who knows.” Michelle shrugged. “He said something about not getting much sleep or something.”

“That doesn't give him the right to act like a complete and utter a*****e.”

“Maybe he's just jumpy.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”


~*~



Though Sion had suggested they return home due to the unknown length of Frank's recovery, Gerard had insisted they stay nearby. So instead, the doctor offered him and the rest of the group the manor's guest quarters, located at the north end of the house. They could tell that the series of dormitories that formed the area were recent additions to the centuries old cathedral. A large commons area sat in the center of the small complex, branching off into short adjoining hallways, which in turn led into corresponding bedrooms, bathrooms, and a dining area. Just the commons itself was easily ten times the size of their current base of operations, and the change in scenery was welcome.

Already, the entire house was asleep in their beds, while outside the storm continued with renewed ferocity. Other than the driving rain, not a sound was echoed through the mansion's halls, reflecting a sterile calm that seemed out of place with with all that had taken place in the past few days.

In the dorm at the end of the men's hallway, Mikey was tossing and turning in his sleep, his dreams once again tortured by their usual demons. Sweat condensed on his brow and seeped down the side of his head, soaking through the pillow case and into the soft down below. Across the room, Gerard lay peacefully still on the chamber's second four-poster, his own thoughts somehow untouched by the creatures which afflicted his brother.

The bone-jarring crash of thunder woke Mikey from his fitful rest, plunging him into the freezing waters of consciousness. Heart pounding like a jackhammer, he rose from the mattress and looked around the room. Every few seconds, a bolt of lightning would flash past outside, briefly illuminating the dim chamber. As far as Mikey could tell, everything seemed to be how it had been before he went to sleep that night and nothing appeared out of place.

These nightmares are driving you insane, he told himself. They're not real and you know it. Now stop acting like they are!

Mikey climbed out of bed, pushing the heavy cotton and polyester sheets out of his way. Taking a candle from the bedside table, he rummaged through the nightstand's drawers until he found a slim pack of matches. He drew a single stick from the pack and struck it against the sandpaper edge, sparking it to life. Wasting little time in lighting the candle, he moved across the room to the bathroom door that stood a few feet from Gerard's headboard.

The bathrooms in Sion's manor were about as different from those in Mexico as Mikey could imagine. Every fixture was gilded over with either gold or silver and the surface of the sink seemed to be carved out of alabaster. Instead of a shower, a sunken, jacuzzi-size bathtub filled half of the room, looking more like a pool than the regular means of hygiene it served as. Even the mirror was made of a higher quality glass. Mikey shook his head in wonder. How the hell does a creature from another dimension come to afford a place like this?

Leaning down over the washbasin, he twisted the cold knob and dipped his hands under the faucet as the first wave of chilling water poured down. He cupped his palms together and splashed some of it over his face. The frigid sensation felt painful on his skin, but he welcomed the feeling of awareness it gave him.

Wiping his face dry on the edge of his t-shirt, Mikey glanced a grandfather clock set in the corner of the room. Its hands indicated the time as 2:50.

Perfect, thought Mikey. Now I'll never get back to sleep. Not like I could have anyways. Those dreams are just... He shook his head. Don't even think about it.

Mikey frowned. The dreams were getting worse, that he was sure of, but they'd also started to become more clear. He was able to remember them better than ever when he awoke and it terrified him. And that last one...

“They're not real.” he whispered to himself. “They're just dreams. Nothing more, nothing less.”

But something about that last one disturbed him deeply. He'd had it, or at least something similar, for the past two days every time he fell asleep, each time clearer than the last. It wouldn't have bothered him normally, but those things Katie had been saying made it worse. Was it possible Frank was hiding something from them?

She doesn't know what she's talking about, Mikey tried to convince himself. I know him better than she does. He tells us everything. I – I know he does.

The sound of knocking on the door of the bedroom pulled Mikey back from his thoughts. Turning the faucet off, he picked his candle up again and moved out of the bathroom to the bedroom.

Mikey grunted as he pushed the room's massive sliding entry door to the side. When he finally got it open, he found himself staring at a sight he barely believed.

“Frank?” he asked in disbelief.

Frank stood square in the center of the hall, his previously injured hand held to his chest in a sling. The fungus from the infection was completely gone and only a slight red rash remained where it had once been. However, Mikey's excitement quickly turned to concern when he recognized the look in his friend's eyes.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Frank shook his head. Slowly at first, he replied, “Mikey, there's something I have to tell you.”








Chapter Eleven


Beneath the blazing light of the evening moon, the cross-country bus reflected a soft metallic shadow over the road that flew by under it. Acres of corn fields passed by in a blur, their outlines muted by the pace of the vehicle.

Curled up on the bus' rear seat, Melody lay with a tattered blanket over her shivering body. She had changed the moment she'd fled Selene, forsaking her old clothes and instead changing into a darker look in an attempt to disguise herself. Apparently, no one had noticed her yet, and the fact that she had already made it halfway across the country helped calm her anxious nerves.

I'll get as far away as I can, she thought. Start a new life. Other people have done before. There's no reason why I can't pull it off.

The bus began slowing down. Melody raised her head from the cushion of the back seat, trying to see what had caused the sudden stop. She saw a sign up ahead that read 'Thank You For Visiting Nebraska'. Only a second later, another appeared, displaying 'Welcome to Iowa' in grand lettering.

Iowa? she thought dubiously. Where the hell am I?

When the bus had become stationery, the front doors opened with a hydraulic hiss. A series of people began pouring onto the vehicle in single file, all of them looking as weary as her at this time of night. She counted twelve in all, bringing the grand total of passengers on the bus to twenty-three.

The first couple of new passengers sat down individually at the head of the bus, allowing the remaining ten to pass down the aisle. Six college-aged girls claimed adjacent seats in the center of the bus, while the man after their entourage collapsed into one of the chairs behind them. This left a group of three young men roughly Melody's age. Though they all seemed to be dressed in the same style of black leather jackets and belted jeans, only the first two appeared to stick together, while the third simply seemed to be a coincidence.

“Well, hello there.” the first boy greeted as he neared the back of the bus, smiling mischievously. “Got room for one more?”

Melody ignored him, turning her head to face the window.

The boy shrugged his shoulders and sat down on the back seat only a few inches from Melody's feet. His friend dropped down into the nearest seat to the back and leaned over the headrest, watching her with amusement.

“So, you riding alone or you got a special someone with you?” the first boy asked, trying to prod her into conversation.

Just ignore him, Melody told herself. These kind of jackasses always show up on public transportation.

The first boy flicked his head back, tossing a lock of bleached blonde hair out of his eyes. He reached a hand out to stroke the skin of Melody's ankle. “'Cause you know, there's a hotel not too far from here...”

Melody's foot jerked back. She glared at him, pulling the blanket closer to herself.

“Oh come on, don't be like that.”

“Touch me again and I'll break your fricking fingers off.”

“I'm just trying to be friendly.” he laughed, scootching across the back seat and closer towards her.

“Who the hell do you think you're impressing? Your boyfriend over there?” Melody spat, nodding towards his buddy.

“Aw, relax,” he bent over and stroked a curl of Melody's hair. “I'm really not that bad once you get to know me.”

Melody slapped his hand away from her face. “I don't intend on sticking around long enough to find out.”

The blonde-haired boy's friend stood up inconspicuously, rounding the seats and moving into the back while Melody wasn't looking. She didn't notice him until he sat down between her and the window, trapping her between him and his friend. She sat bolt upright, trying to put as much space between herself and them as possible, but they simply moved in closer, their breath hot on her skin.

“You got a boyfriend back home?” the first boy whispered in her ear, setting a hand on her knee.

“As far as you know,” she snarled.

“Well, I have a feeling he won't mind.” He ran his fingers over the flesh below her skirt, his roughly cut, black-polished fingernails scratching at her skin.

“I don't have to sit back here and listen to this.” Melody made a move to get up, but the second boy grabbed her by the arm and held her to the seat.

“Oh yes, you do.” the blonde-haired boy said, a twisted smile spreading across his face. Before Melody could move, he pressed a hand against her mouth, preventing her from screaming for help. The only sounds that escaped her lips were muffled by the noise of the bus, leaving her helpless.

The first boy reached into one of the countless pockets of his jeans and withdrew the sleek metal form of a switchblade, its sides accented by polished rosewood. He flicked the blade out soundlessly and pressed the edge against her throat. She froze instantly, her futile attempts to wriggle loose put to a halt.

Now Melody's breathing was coming in short, ragged gasps. The second boy had taken both her arms and was holding them behind her back, turning her to face towards his friend. She fought to keep herself from crying, knowing all too well what would happen if she made a sound.

Her blanket lying on the floor, Melody felt completely defenseless. Why she hadn't dressed heavier she would never know, but sitting there in nothing but a blood-red camisole and jean skirt left her feeling undeniably exposed. She shut her eyes as tightly as she could.

“Don't be scared,” the first boy smiled, “I'm not going to hurt you.” He leaned in towards her face, his black lips nearing hers with every passing second. She could feel his breath against her face.

Close enough that she could practically feel him against her skin, he stopped dead in his tracks. The blade at her throat fell away, and she could feel the second boy release her. Melody opened her eyes slowly, not sure what was happening.

Standing there in the back of the bus, only inches from the blonde-haired man, was the third boy. The part of his face which wasn't hidden behind dark, feathered hair revealed somber eyes, their ink black pupils staring coldly at the first boy. It took a moment for Melody to realize what was going on, but when she saw the barrel of the gun held up against the blonde boy's skull, she understood immediately.

“Let her go.” the third boy growled, slowly and clearly so that both men heard exactly what he had to say.

“Woah, o-okay dude. Just... just take it easy.” the first boy stammered, creeping away from Melody as his friend did the same. His eyes were wide with terror.

The third boy's eyes never left them for a second, watching their movements closely as they surrendered. His grip on the gun was unfaltering, his hand not hesitating or shaking once as he held it trained on the blonde boy's head.

A shrill scream from the front of the bus caused him to be caught off balance, giving the two men a split second to make a run for it. They charged past the third boy, knocking him back into the side of the bus.

Sitting upright, Melody could now see the girl who'd screamed. It was one of the college girls, staring fearfully back into the rear of the bus, her eyes fixed on the gun in the third boy's hand. Her friends saw it too and they too had started shrieking. The bus' other passengers turned to see what had gotten the women so riled up and they began panicking as well.

“Stop the bus!!!” one girl cried.

“STOP THE BUS!!!” everyone began screaming.

The driver slammed on the brakes, throwing everyone on the bus forwards and into the next seat. Melody fell off the back seat and onto the floor of the bus. She felt a hand grab her by the shoulder and her first thought was of the men who had assaulted her. On the contrary, when she looked up, she found herself staring into the eyes of the third man, his other hand held out for her to hold on to.

“Are you okay?” he asked, ignoring the rest of the bus' passengers.

Melody nodded. Taking hold of his hand, she managed to stutter, “T-Thank you.”

“No problem.” He helped her to her feet and turned towards the front of the bus. The passengers flinched, especially the blonde boy and his friend who practically fainted at the sight of him. They all pressed themselves as far back from the aisle as they could, terrified they might become his first victim.

The dark-haired boy led the way down the center with Melody following close behind. They passed by the two men with little more than a backwards glance. However, Melody faced them long enough to catch the blonde boy whisper, “You're dead, b***h.”

Walking up to the bus driver, who happened to look as terrified as the rest of the passengers, the third boy asked, “What's the nearest town from here?”

“S-S-Sioux City.” he mumbled. “I-It's about half a mile behind us. Y-You can see the lights back there. To the left.”

“Thanks buddy.” the boy said, smiling. He patted the driver on the back with his unarmed hand, causing him to nearly jump out of his seat. “Owe you one. What's your name?”

“E-E-Edward Blaine.”

“Well, Ed, I'll be sure to put in a good word for you down at the bus company.” Turning to the rest of the group, he shouted above the sound of passing traffic, “Terribly sorry to have disrupted your trip, ladies and gentlemen. Think of it this way: at least things can't get much worse after this.”

He turned to the two boys near the back of the bus and waved the gun in their direction, causing them to inch as far away from him as they could. But instead of shooting them, the third boy simply shouted, “And if I ever see you bastards again, you better pray to God I'm not carrying this with me!”

Sliding the firearm back into his belt, he leaned over and pushed the lever that opened the door, letting a cool breeze into the bus. Moving down onto the steps, he turned to Melody, who was standing stone still.

“Are you coming or would you prefer to stay?” he asked, smiling.

Melody turned around and saw the two men still staring at her. The blonde boy mouthed something along the lines of, 'If I ever see you again...' and made a cutting gesture across his neck. It took her less than a second to choose between the bus carrying her newly-acquired mortal enemies and the man that had saved her life.

“I'll come.” she replied hastily, rushing down to him. They hopped off the bus and the driver slammed the door only a second later, speeding off down the road.

“Somebody's in a hurry.” the boy standing beside Melody chuckled to himself.

Melody was silent, her eyes looking out over the endless acres of farmland. She saw the light of a city close by and felt a little comfort in knowing they had been dropped close to an actual settlement, not just some farmer's shack that looked as though it had gone through a tornado.

“I'm Daniel, by the way.” the dark-haired boy said, his eyes focused on her.

“Melody.” she replied shyly. Glancing quickly around the surrounding road, she murmured, “So... what do we do now?”

Daniel shrugged. “I guess we walk.”

The moon now hanging low on the horizon, they set off down the lonely stretch of highway with only the light of the distant cityscape to guide them.

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Chapters 12-13


Chapter Twelve


In the absence of light, Sion's library appeared even more enormous than it had before. As Frank led the way through the cavernous chamber, his eyes wandered over the many looming bookshelves and stone columns, watching as the light of his candle danced over their varying surfaces. Mikey followed close behind, carrying his own torch through the sea of darkness. He kept his attention on Frank's candle, making sure not to lose it in the literary labyrinth.

Frank's path brought them to the west end of the house, where the main entry was located. This close to the walls, they could here the pitter-patter of rain against the cathedral's stone walls accompanied by the occasional explosion of thunder. A set of the ancient wooden pews which had once filled the church were set up on either side of the door, their frames' lit by the low-burning candelabras perched on the adjoining walls.

Taking a seat on the nearest bench, Frank set his candle down on the arm of the pew. Mikey sat down next to him, extinguishing his flame and placing it on the floor at his feet.

“So...” Mikey started, eyes darting nervously to the floor.

Frank sighed. “Sorry. This is harder than I thought it would be.”

“Take your time. We've got all night.”

“Yeah...” Frank fiddled with the piercing on his lower lip, trying to gather the courage to continue the conversation. “Damn it, I should have told you guys ages ago.”

“Don't blame yourself.”

“Then whose fault was it? Yours?”

“It was no one's 'fault'. If you didn't feel like you should tell us, you obviously had good reason.”

“Yeah, I know. I just – agh! I feel like such a lowlife. You guys share everything, no matter how much it sucks, and for some idiotic reason, I felt like I couldn't tell you.”

“It's your business, not ours.”

“That shouldn't matter.” said Frank, shaking his head. “We're practically family. Our business is to protect each other. The only thing I've accomplished by holding back is to hurt us. All of us.”

“Frank, no matter what it is, you can say it. It's like you said; we're practically family. Nothing's going to change that.”

“Seriously?” Frank looked up at him through earnest eyes.

“No, I'm just messing with your emotions for the hell of it.” Mikey replied sarcastically. “Of course I'm serious.”

The faintest flicker of a smile cross Frank's face. “Okay, man. Here goes:

~*~


“Six years ago, long before we met up, I had just finished high school in Belleville. I'd finished it up with pretty good grades, so, you know, I was happy with where I was in the world. Like you guys, I wasn't exactly in with the 'popular' crowd (okay, pretty much the furthest I could be from it), but I had a few good friends and at the time, it seemed like they were the only people I'd ever need.

“Well, about two months after graduation, one of my friends, Zach, called and told me that his sister, who also hung out in our group, had ran away from home. The kid's sister, Amy, was only fifteen, so he was freaking out. She'd left a note, raided her parents kitchen, swiped whatever cash she could find, then bolted before her family even noticed her gone.

“So we got together and called everyone in our group (which was a whole whopping nine without his sister). We'd already tried the police, but they were so swamped with missing persons reports that we knew they wouldn't pay any attention to Amy's case. We decided the only way we were going to get anything done was to do it ourselves.

“We started doing research right away, searching everywhere we could think of where she might have gone. We checked her friends' houses, the library, her favorite corner stores. No one had seen her. Eventually we decided to ask a few people at the train station in Newark. They said no one of her description had purchased a ticket in the last few days, so that eliminated one alternative. We figured she couldn't have gotten far. But while we were at the station, this guy working there suggested maybe we check out Amy's family's credit card. He said sometimes the kids that run away from home swipe their folk's cards so they can last longer.

“We got to Zach's house right away and he had his parents see if any of their credit cards were gone. As it turns out, they found three out of four, so they called the company their missing card belonged to to see if anything had been charged on it. You'll never believe what they found.”

“Try me.” Mikey challenged.

“A nine-hundred-and-eighty-two-dollar plane ticket to Japan. Can you imagine that? His sister Amy, a fifteen-year old freshman, who'd barely even been outside the state, managed to acquire a one-way ticket to a country on the other side of the planet. I mean, how the hell is that even possible?

“Anyway, her parents pretty much flipped out. They called the police and demanded they get over to Japan right away to look for her. Like they were going to do anything about it. Her parents tried to buy two more tickets, but none of their other credit cards had enough of a balance left to purchase even one. Not only that, but Amy's plane was leaving in five hours.

“Being the absolute geniuses and perfect angels we were, my friends and I figured we'd have to act fast if we wanted to catch the plane before it took off. I know it seems stupid now, but we were trying to do the right thing, even if our means of 'fund raising' left a lot to be desired.”

“And that would be...” Mikey murmured.

“We, uh, held up a local pawn shop. No biggie, really. No one got hurt, and we were doing the whole 'ski mask' thing so they never figured out who we were. But it got us the money we needed.”

“You robbed a pawn shop?” Mikey looked surprised yet slightly relieved. “Is that all that this is about?”

“What? Oh, hell no. I wish. It gets worse.”

“Then feel free to continue.”

“Well, after we got the cash, we hitchhiked to the airport, where we had about two hours to get our tickets, go through security, and get on the plane. Fortunately, security wasn't as bad back then and we managed to get through with a couple minutes to spare.

“On board, we tried to find Amy, but the plane was huge and, even though we had days to look, our best efforts were in vain. When we got to Japan (Tokyo, to be exact), we waited outside the main gate forever waiting for her to come off. By the time the captain came out, we'd given up hopes and had retreated in defeat to the airport's food court. Which, might I add, turned out to be a great idea, seeing as now none of us spoke a word of Japanese, we didn't have return tickets to America, and we were starving 'cause we didn't have any money to buy food. So, in short, we were completely and hopelessly screwed.

“After that, we hung around the airport for a couple of days - you know, the surrounding neighborhood. We did various odd jobs for people, mostly the ones who could manage at least a few sentences in English. It got us enough cash to keep ourselves fed and for the time being, that was all we needed.

“It was the beginning of our second week there that things started getting weird. We were all staying overnight at this restaurant where we'd gotten temporary jobs while some of the regular employees were on vacation. We were all woken up by this Japanese girl who said she'd heard something outside. She probably thought there were burglars in the back alley, or maybe a gang of kids who'd stayed up past their bedtime. Anyway, she asked if one of us could go look out back and see who it was. After a quick debate, I was 'elected' to go out and check on it. So I left the other eight downstairs and went out into the back alley by myself.

“Everything looked normal at first. There were a few stray cats wandering about, so I figured maybe one of them had tipped something over and given the girl a scare. But... there was this... feeling back in that alley. It was creepy. Like, horror movie creepy. I didn't know if maybe I was just being paranoid, but it felt like something was watching me.

“I was heading back inside when someone called my name from down the street. I thought maybe one of the guys had come upstairs after me, but when I turned around... man, I just about freaked.

“I didn't believe it at first, but Amy was standing at the end of the alley. She looked older somehow, maybe even older than I was, but... I didn't see how that could be possible. She told me she wanted me to follow her, but I argued that she needed to talk to her brother. The second I mentioned him, she took off down the alley. So of course, I ran after.

“I didn't know why, but for some reason, the longer I followed her, the worse that creepy feeling got. I ran for hours, losing myself in the streets of Tokyo. Eventually, she came to a stop at the foot of what looked like one of those ancient Japanese temples you always see pictures of in the magazines and brochures. For lack of better judgment, I tagged along.

“The thing was, she didn't try to stop me, which confused the s**t outta me at the time. She'd been running from me for the entire night, and when she had the chance to shut the door in my face, she did the complete opposite of what I would have expected: she invited me in.”

Frank stopped for a second. He had been speaking nonstop and Mikey wasn't sure whether he was catching his breath or preparing to talk about something he feared with all his heart. As much as it pained him to think it, Mikey assumed the latter.

“Of course, at the time, I wasn't exactly educated in the world of the supernatural... so I didn't recognize a sumai-akuma when I saw one.”

“Sumai-akuma?” Mikey's mouth hung open. “You mean you actually went inside the 'House of the Devil'?!?”

“I didn't know what the hell it was!” Frank said defensively.

“Still... people don't just walk into one. There are things that keep them out. Spells that prevent the pure of heart from entering.”

“Well, besides the fact that I wasn't exactly 'pure of heart', Amy had offered me an invitation. The myth says that anyone can enter as long as they're invited by one of the house's spirits, so... I guess it didn't matter.”

“But once you found out what it was like inside, you got out... right?”

Frank bit his lip.

“Are you kidding me?” Mikey looked at him with astonishment. “Why didn't you get out?”

“I wanted to, I swear I did, but there was something in that place. I tried to escape dozens of times but the spirits... every time I tried to run, it got worse. At first I was rebellious. I denied everything they said and... I was punished for it.” Frank rolled up the right leg of his jeans, revealing a series of sickle-shaped brands Mikey had never seen before. “Over time, though... I started to listen to them. I started to think like them. I started to act like them.”

“The spirits of the sumai-akuma... they're the Imperial demons, aren't they? That's where I've heard that name.”

“Not exactly. The spirits of the house are the sajukai. Willing hosts of the Imperial demons, like... Amy. Over time though, the host loses itself completely and the creature claims the body as its own.”

“So those demons... they enslaved you, or what? Held you hostage?”

Frank tried to say something meaningful, but all that he could force out his mouth was, “No.”

“Then what?”

“Mikey, damn it, don't you get it?” Frank looked at him sternly. “I was there so long... I couldn't – I couldn't stop them anymore. The Imperial demons... they didn't seem as bad as I know they are now. I didn't know the truth about them... they deceived me.” He shook his head. “I know it was a stupid, stupid thing to do, but... they convinced me. Honestly, I'd be lying if I said they tricked me; I'm the only person to blame for what they did to me. For what I did.”

Mikey didn't say anything for a few seconds. He just stared blankly at Frank, not sure how to react to what his friend had just said. When the words finally came to him, his tone came out as more of a whisper than a real voice.

“But... you didn't want to be, right? I-it was against your will. I mean, you wouldn't let them do that to you.... would you?”

“Not – not now I wouldn't.” Frank stammered, the shame obvious in his voice. “But back then I didn't know any better... I didn't...”

“Frank... I don't -”

“Mikey, you have no idea how many times I've wanted to take back what I did. If I could go back in time and change it, I'd kill myself if it meant I wouldn't have to hurt the people that I did. But I made stupid, idiotic, irreversible mistakes and others had to pay the price. Others who didn't deserve the fate they received.”

“Then the demon that possess Katie... Nashome...”

Frank nodded. “She was the head of the sumai-akuma. Her attendants said she even had a direct link to the devil himself. Some even thought she was his daughter. I know it sounds like crap, but... I don't find it hard to believe.”

“So that's how you knew her?”

Frank hesitated, then replied, “Yeah.”

Mikey narrowed his eyes. He could tell Frank was hiding something. “Frank, the cat's out of the bag.” he muttered. “If you're going to tell the truth, this is the time to do it.”

“It was nothing.”

“No, it was something. Otherwise, you wouldn't be avoiding it.”

“Look I'm telling you... man, none of this is even your business.” Frank argued, his voice picking up speed. “You were right. I shouldn't have even told you in the first place.”

Mikey had known Frank long enough to know what was going on. His fidgeting, his eyes' inability to stay focused on one thing, his rapid talking...

“You were in love with her, weren't you?”

“What?” Frank demanded, looking taken aback by the wild accusation.

“How stupid do you think I am?”

“If you're going by my opinion; very,” Frank growled.

“I'll understand if it's true. That's all I want, Frank: the truth.”

Frank shook his head, then with exasperation, responded, “You want the truth? You want the honest-to-God truth, uncut and uncensored?”

“I'd love nothing more.”

“Fine. I'll put this as simple as I can put it so I can get this over with:

“A week after my initiation into the sumai-akuma, Nashome... she offered me her hand in marriage.” At that, Mikey's jaw practically fell to the floor. Frank glanced quickly in his direction, then turned back to the ground. “I said yes,” he stammered, “without question. She promised to make me as powerful as her, to give me limitless control over the devil's forces here on earth if I vowed to stay with her forever. But then... a day before the wedding... things changed.

“We were out on our usual midnight stroll -” Frank started, but Mikey's scoff silenced him.

“Something funny?” Frank demanded.

“Sorry,” Mikey replied, “you just never struck me as the 'strolling' type.”

Frank scowled and, seeming to blow off Mikey's comment completely, continued, “- and as usual, I was out alone with Nashome. As we passed through the eastern streets of Tokyo, I heard a voice I recognized. I-it was Zach. He couldn't see us, but we could see him. The moment I saw him, I felt something shift in my gut. That tiny bit of humanity I'd clung to was resurfacing, telling me who he was. He was my friend. He was my best friend. I couldn't hurt him... but Nashome could.”

Mikey could tell Frank was holding back tears. His friend's hands were clasped so tightly together that his knuckles had turned sickly white.

“She... she just killed him. She didn't say anything, she didn't give him any warning. She just...” His voice trailed off weakly.

“It wasn't until then that I realized what I was doing.” he continued. “What I'd become. So I ran. I ran as far from there as I could. I ran back home and I never looked back. I didn't care about power any more. I didn't care about what Nashome had promised me. All I wanted was to be human.

“And so, I returned to New Jersey. Over time, the demon inside me left on its own and, eventually, I was human again. But this time, I was going to do it differently. I can never make up for what I did, but... doing this...” He swallowed hard. “Doing this helps. It helps a lot.”

Frank sighed. Rising from the pew, he picked his candle up off the arm rest and added, “So that's my happy little story. The one I've been dying to get off my chest since the day I met you guys. I guess it just took 'til now for me to finally get the courage to tell it.”

“Thank you.” Mikey said sincerely.

“For what?” Frank looked at him strangely. “If anyone should be thanked, it's you.”

“What? Why?”

“The reason I haven't told you guys all these years is... I've been terrified of what you would think of me. That it would change something. That you might not trust me anymore. But now... it's like I should have told you ages ago.”

Mikey wrapped an arm around Frank's shoulders. “Maybe. But who cares? We're all breathing. What more could we ask for?”

“Well, personally, I'd like to get my toe back, but come on. You can only ask for so much.”

“That you can.” Mikey said, grinning.

Frank let out a long yawn. “Man, I'm tired. I don't know about you, but I'm going back to bed.”

“Yeah, sounds like a good idea.” Mikey replied, the first waves of early morning fatigue washing over him.








Chapter Thirteen


The neon sign for the Starlight Lounge in Sioux City glowed like a beacon in the surrounding, darkened neighborhood. Its incredible late night hours made it a notorious hangout for all kinds of characters who prowled the streets. Though it was unknown to the city's authorities, the Starlight Lounge was also one of the most popular otherworldly clubs in the country, if not the planet. Although it appeared as nothing more than a dingy, run-down bar from the ground up, underground it was a whole other story.

Daniel led Melody to the back of the bar, where an imposing man in a pinstripe suit and tie stood guard over what looked like a broom closet. His arms were folded sternly across his chest and his beady eyes continually scanned the establishment's visitors.

“I thought you said this was a safe place...” Melody asked worriedly, glancing at the the building's other occupants.

“Don't worry,” Daniel whispered, “Watch this.” He stepped up boldly in front of the man in the suit.

“Exit's that way, punk.” the guard grunted, jabbing a thumb at the bar's back door.

“We're not looking for an exit.” Daniel persisted, staring the massive man down. “Nos es vultus pro occultus locus.”

“Operor vos fuisti a key?”

Melody looked back in forth between the two. She fought the urge to ask Daniel what he was saying.

“Sic.” He unzipped the top part of his jacket and pulled back at the collar, revealing a skull-shaped marking on his neck.

“Bonus,” the guard said, nodding. He stepped away from the door. “Vos may penetro.”

“Gratias ago vos.” Daniel smiled. He moved towards the door. Melody attempted to follow, but the guard held out a hand to stop her.

“She with you?” he asked, turning towards Daniel.

“Yeah,” he replied, nodding hard.

The guard lowered his arm, allowing her to pass. She stepped around him and into the stairwell, sticking close behind Daniel.

“Was that Latin?” she asked curiously, all the time eying the changing surroundings as they descended down into the ground. She watched as the walls seemed to morph from corroded wood to sleek, painted drywall almost instantly. The lighting from the bar vanished and was replaced by a low-humming, red fluorescent glow that seeped from the room below.

Daniel laughed dryly. “Attempted. I'm sure any real scholar would say otherwise, but it's the best I can do. As long as it's enough to get past Bouncer Joe back there, I'm good.”

They reached the bottom of the staircase, stepping into a massive commune unlike anything Melody had ever seen.

The underground chamber was staggering in size, covering an area Melody could only compare to the size of a sports dome. Its vaulted ceiling rose high above their heads, supporting the crimson floodlights and black drapery that gave the room its distinct aura. The center of the hold was consumed by a full-scale concert, where hundreds, if not thousands, of seething bodies moved in unison with the heart-pounding music. Around the edges of the cavern, a wide variety of various of booths and vendors were set up, ranging in wares from concessions to clothing. Numerous bars were scattered throughout, and even a tattoo parlor had made its way inside. The entire set up seemed reminiscent of some of the large-scale tours she had been to as a teen, with perhaps one major exception:

Upon closer inspection, Melody realized that the crowd was brimming with abnormal beasts and mutations, their strange physiques having previously been masked by the commotion. Actually, as she noticed, only about half of the room's occupants appeared to be human, while the rest of the populace consisted of nearly every kind of creature she could imagine. Arch demons, shapeshifters, half-breeds, and vampires filled the room, as well as many other beings Melody didn't even recognize. They would have blended in perfectly in modern society, dressed fully in human clothes. However, as she soon could see, they were permanently set apart by their varying skin colors and textures, separating them from the world of men. Down here, though, it didn't matter. Race was not an issue and the men and women here understood that.

Unlike up there, Melody thought with spite. It doesn't even matter if you're the same race; anyone who's different automatically becomes fuel for persecution.

Melody felt a hand embrace her own. She looked down and saw Daniel's tattooed fingers wrapped around her, guiding her gently by his side through the frenzied chaos. She smiled a little, then looked away, worried he might see. Blushing slightly, she turned her attention to the people around her, curious to have a closer look at the surrounding creatures.

Though most of them looked human on first glance, Melody was quickly able to see through their guises. They past by a cluster of young woman that all seemed to be built at a regulated height, chattering nonstop over the sound of the band. All of them boasted glistening, knee-length hair that glittered in a spectrum of colors, reflecting off the butterfly-like, crystalline wings that grew from their backs. Fairies, Melody thought happily, surprised to see the creatures from her favorite childhood fables come to life. A little taller than myth would suggest.

She noticed a small group standing in front of a nearby bar, looking out over the crowd with little interest. Dressed with sophistication and dignity, they cared little for the 'barbaric rough-housing' taking place in the middle of the club. Each one wore a snow-white fedora, probably meant as an attempt to cover up the long pointed ears protruding from underneath.

“What are they?” Melody asked Daniel, recovering from her temporary state of speechlessness.

“Who? The suits with the cocktails?”

“Yeah.”

“They're goblins. Nasty little bunch. White collar bastards who'd sell their souls for the right price. Come to think of it, quite a few already have. They're the Otherworld version of the mafia.”

“You mean like, assassinations? Murders?”

“Only if you get on their bad side,” Daniel said reassuringly.

Daniel led her to the edge of the room, pulling her out of the drunken crowd. There stood a looming archway, leading down to another flight of steps which disappeared into the darkness.

“Where are we going?” Melody asked.

“You'll see.” Daniel replied, grinning.

“Ooo, so mysterious. I'm riveted.”

The light of the club faded away, bathing them in shadows. Melody clung tightly to Daniel's hand, fearful she might lose him in the abyss. She moved carefully down the steps, feeling each and every one and making sure it was well grounded.

“I can't see a thing.” Melody muttered.

“Heh, that's sort of the point...”

“Point of what?”

“Lot of folks down in these parts aren't too fond of the light. They need a little retreat.”

“Then why are we coming down here?” she asked, suspicion evident in her voice. She'd noticed Daniel's hand tighten as well.

“I'll show you. It's just -” Daniel's voice broke off, realization hitting him as he recognized her tone of voice. “Oh s**t, you don't think that... do you?”

“You're a random stranger I just met leading me down into God-knows-where, where it just so happens to be dark as midnight. Not to mention at least half the people in this hellhole are so boozed up they wouldn't even bother trying to stop it. You can't blame a girl for being cautious. In case you failed to notice, it's already been attempted once today.”

Daniel laughed awkwardly. “You don't have to worry about that. I'm not that kind of guy.”

“Then what kind of guy are you?”

“Honestly?” He paused, then shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe someday you'll be able to tell me.”

Daniel steered her around a turn in the steps, revealing an emanating blue light up ahead. Dark-outlined figures moved about beyond Melody's line of sight.

“Interest peaking...” Melody whispered sarcastically.

“You have no patience.”

“Well, I haven't exactly had the greatest day,” she shot back, her tone turning serious, “and I'll to be overjoyed when it's done.”

“Technically, it had just started right before that happened... so you've still got... twenty-one hours.”

“That's not what I'm talking about.” Melody snapped. Damn it! She thought immediately. Why did I just say that?

“Then what?” Daniel asked bluntly. On the walk into the city, Melody had told him 'everything'. Her words, not his. She'd said that she was a vampire and that she was running away because her town had tried to kill her. Short, sweet, and to the point. But had it been the whole truth?

“I-I don't want to talk about it,” she murmured.

“Did something happen before this?”

“Daniel, please...”

“I-it's Danny, if you want.” Setting foot on the floor at the base of the stairs, Daniel stopped. His head spun around to face her.

“Danny.” she corrected herself. “I just... not now, okay? This just... this hasn't been a good day.”

Daniel could see tears forming at the corner of Melody's eyes. Note to self: he thought. Don't bring this up again.

“Alright,” he said in an understanding voice. He tried to relax his hold on Melody's hand, but she only tightened hers, so he found himself doing the same. Tugging her forward gently, he added, “This way.”

Melody wiped her eyes when she thought Daniel wasn't looking, trying to conceal her grief. She didn't want him to know what happened. If she told him about Will, she'd have to tell him about what had happened in the police station. What she had done...

It was only now that Melody took her first look at the area they had just entered. The overhead lights revealed the form of what appeared to be an old subway station, its length filled with an assortment of colorful characters that she could scarcely begin to describe. The tile lining on the walls was long-since worn away, replaced by deteriorating wallpaper. Rectangular columns shot up from the floor to support the ceiling, though most of them failed to do that, seeing as the majority had been vandalized to near destruction.

“This where you take all girls on the first date?” Melody asked sarcastically.

“Only the cynical, high-maintenance vampire ones.”

“Cynical? This coming from you? And... high-maintenance? What the hell are you talking about?”

“Come on; no one's skin stays that clear without some kind of facial peel crap,” Daniel replied. “You have beauty queen written all over you..”

“Well, I guess I'll take that as a compliment -” Melody said, causing Daniel to blush. “- and since when was hygiene a sin?”

Daniel paused.

“Ha.” Melody said tauntingly, her voice regaining its playful edge. “Gotcha.”

“Whatever.” Daniel mumbled grumpily, flashing a quick smile.

“And no comeback? We're not falling asleep, are we?”

The smile on Daniel's face faded. He seemed to have gotten himself lost in thought.

“Danny? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it's just... I was just thinking about this.”

“About what?”

“For starters, I met you less than two hours ago. We're already talking like we've known each other for years...”

“Reincarnation?” Melody jested.

“No, not that... and I barely know who you are. You've told me your name and what you are, but I know absolutely nothing about you. Hell, I don't even know how old you are.”

“Twenty-five.”

“That's – that's not the point I'm trying to make.” Daniel shook his head. “For all I know, you could be some psychotic mass murderer traveling the country and slaughtering every living thing you find.”

That made Melody's heart freeze. It wasn't because those sort of things creeped her out. No, she'd been comfortable with the idea of death for quite some time. But with what had happened recently -

Daniel's laugh interrupted her thoughts. “Like that would ever happen. You've probably never hurt a fly.”

“I am a vampire...” Melody said sadly, the echo in the tunnel drowning out her emotion.

“I suppose. Still, I'm not usually this quick to trust people. Actually, I'm never this quick to trust people, but I guess it's true what they say: 'There's an exception to every rule'.”

“Yeah,” Melody whispered, trying to conceal her reproachfulness in a smile. “It does seem that way.”

A few moments later, the sound of an approaching train sparked a small feeling of joy inside of Melody. It was slowing down, coming to a stop in perfect alignment with the boarding station.

“Where exactly are we going?” Melody asked curiously.

“That depends; where do you want to go?” They stepped into the nearest cabin. The overhead lighting changed once again, this time from blue to a regular white.

“I... I don't know.”

“So you were just running for the sake of escape? No destination in mind?”

“Not a destination in Sioux City.” Melody murmured, glancing around the vehicle.

“Oh, nonono. This isn't a regular subway.”

“Well, I did sorta figure that by some of the other passengers.” Melody murmured, indicating a pair of green-skinned demons who had boarded after them.

“I mean, it's not a local one. It's cross-country. We like to call it the 'Underground Railroad'.”

“Cute.”

The doors hissed, then slid shut, shutting Melody and Daniel inside the cabin. Soon, the lengthy vehicle began moving again, slowly at first, then picking up speed as it progressed.

“Which way are we headed?” Melody asked, having lost all sense of direction.

“Why, east of course. Unless you'd prefer to go back to California...”

“No!!!” she blurted too quickly. Daniel looked at her strangely. “I-I mean, no,” she stammered. “I really don't want to do that.”

Daniel nodded. His head spun to look to his right, then his left, then back to Melody. “We can sit down if you want to. It's gonna be a long trip.”

“A-alright.”

They made their way over to one side of the cabin, collapsing into the adjacent seats that lined the wall. It wasn't until then that Melody realized just how tired she was. The small clock on the wall read '4:14: AM'. That meant she had only slept one hour in the last twenty-four. Even with her new recent biological changes, she still needed some sleep.

Without even noticing herself do it, she leaned up against Daniel's shoulder, letting her legs sprawl out across the empty seats beyond. She yawned quietly, letting out a cold breath into the air of the cabin. As she slipped into slumber, her head slid lower and lower until it was resting on Daniel's slouched chest.

“Melody...” Daniel began, but he cut himself short, seeing she was already out. Though he was sure he would be sore when he woke up, he hardly cared. He wasn't too concerned about the condition of his spine. Like her, he hadn't noticed how weary he'd been until he finally had the chance to relax, and now that he did, it only took a few moments for him to drift off to sleep.

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Chapters 14-15


Chapter Fourteen


“Goodbye, Dr. Sion!” Gerard called back as he and the rest of the group stepped through the cathedral's main doors and into the rain-soaked morning. The storm had subsided for the most part, now leaving only a steady drizzle to pelt the stone facades of the cathedral.

“Goodbye, Gerard.” Sion replied from the front entryway. He had been taken by surprise by Frank's incredible recovery time, but it had also been a great relief. The faster he healed, the less severe the virus must have been, and for that the doctor was thankful.

The rest of the group waved back to him as they climbed into the hearse. Gerard took the driver's seat this time, while Frank sat down next to him and the rest crowded into the back.

“You should really consider getting a mini-van or something.” Katie muttered as she nearly tripped over Ray's leg crawling in. “Or at least install some seating back here.”

“Not a bad idea.” Bob agreed, trying to shove Mikey aside so he could get enough room to sit down.

“Stop complaining and just take a seat.” Frank shot back.

“Like you can talk, Mr. Front Seat.” Michelle grumbled.

The movement in the back settled down eventually and Gerard yelled over his shoulder, “Everyone seated?”

“As comfortably as possible.” said Mikey.

Frank turned around in his seat. He saw Bob and Mikey had split apart and were now sitting on opposite sides of the hearse, their knees folded up to keep from kicking each other. Michelle was seated next to Mikey and across from Katie, who was leaning backwards against the vehicle's window with boredom. Ray was positioned at the very end of the cabin, giving his long legs enough room to stretch out without being a hindrance. His back was pressed up against the same side as Bob and Katie.

“Looks like they're good.” Frank said, turning to Gerard.

“Shouldn't we have seat belts or something?” Katie asked.

“Yeah,” Gerard grunted, “probably.”

The hearse pulled away from the mansion, moving down the road and back into the cover of the looming willow trees. In a matter of seconds, the manor disappeared completely from sight, it's visage replaced by the trees' long-reaching branches.

“So... are we like, getting a hotel or staying with you guys?”

“Hotel's probably not a good idea.” Ray replied. “If Michelle and Gerard are as plastered over the news as I'd guess they are, they'd be able to find you in a second.”

“We could always just go home...” Michelle suggested.

“Home? They know exactly who we are. Home is a really bad idea.”

“Then we're not returning to your place?”

“Well, yeah, but it's not registered under our names.”

“Whose is it under?”

Ray laughed. “Jared Wayne.”

“Wow,” Katie muttered sarcastically, “brilliant.”

“I certainly thought so.” Gerard retorted.

The ride back to 1432 Sycamore Drive was fairly uneventful, and was over before Katie had even noticed it start. They were parked once again in the nearby alley, and as she exited the vehicle, she watched Gerard and Mikey tossed a dismal gray sheet over the parked hearse. The blanket covered it completely, disguising the car's strange shape and making it look like any other broken down wreck.

“I'm surprised how well that works.” Katie said to Bob.

“Mikey's idea.” Bob commented, then added, “It makes up for his naming it.”

“What did he name it?”

“You don't wanna know.”

“No, seriously.”

Bob sighed. “The Chemobile.”

“The Chemobile?”

“Don't know where the hell he got it; don't care. All I know is that he is not naming our next vehicle.”

Katie laughed. “That's understandable.”

“Hey, you guys coming or what?” Frank yelled from the end of the alley, waiting impatiently for the rest of the group to catch up. They got the hint and gathered around him, looking out cautiously into the street beyond the exit.

“Coast looks clear.” Gerard noted.

“Then shall we?” Frank asked rhetorically, gesturing with his uninjured hand.

They set off down the street, enjoying the lukewarm rain as it cascaded down from the sky. Michelle held out her tongue and caught one of the tiny drops like a snowflake, then felt it slip away down her throat.

“You'd think we'd be getting snow by this time of year.” Ray murmured.

“Weather's screwy.” Katie replied. “What can you do about it?”

“Bring an umbrella, I suppose. Or at least...” Ray's stomach dropped as they rounded the corner in the road, bringing them into sight of their home's front yard.

“What?” Katie asked. Her eyes had been focused on Ray and she had failed to notice what the rest had seen right away. When she turned to face forwards, realization hit her like a brick.

Parked beside the curb outside the house, red and blue lights spinning like maddened hornets, sat seven patrol cars, surrounded by a dozen police officers with their weapons drawn.

“Turn around.” Gerard whispered, not daring to draw attention to himself. They all stood stock still on the sidewalk, watching the cops with cautious eyes.

“They'll s-see us.” Mikey stammered.

“If we walk away slowly, they won't notice us.”

“How do you know?”

“I don't, but if we just stand here, there's not a chance in the world that they won't.”

“Let's... get back to the car.” Ray suggested.

“Good idea.” almost everyone replied in unison.

They started to turn, but the sound of a thunderous shout from the other end of the street stopped them dead in their tracks.

“FREEZE!!!”

All seven froze, their backs to the police.

“Damn it!” Frank muttered. “What do we do now?”

Katie turned a little to look back. She saw several cops approaching, carrying their guns at the ready.

“We have to get out of here.” she hissed. “My police record can't survive this.”

“You have a police record?” Bob asked quizzically.

“On my signal,” Mikey whispered, ignoring Katie's exclamation, “we run.”

“Are you nuts?!?” Michelle demanded. “They'll gun us down in a few seconds!”

“Unless you have a better plan...”

Michelle was silent. She hated to admit it, but he was right.

“Right, on three.” Mikey said. “One... two... three!”

The group split apart in a fraction of a second, charging away in every possible direction. Michelle was sprinting towards the alley where the car was parked, her intent not on the vehicle itself but its use as cover. Mikey and Frank were moving in the same direction, but they were unable to keep up with her adrenaline-driven speed. Bob and Gerard were barreling down the center of the street in the opposite direction of the house, weaving through parked cars and narrowly avoiding moving ones.

It took Katie a moment to get her bearings, standing unmoving on the spot in surprise. She felt someone grab her by the arm and haul her away. At first, she pictured it being one of the cops, who had managed to seize her and was bringing her to one of the waiting cars, but when she noticed she was being directed away from the police barricade, she looked up and saw Ray pulling her to safety.

“I can run on my own, you know!” Katie shouted over the sirens' wailing.

“Yeah, but you're also really good at standing still and presenting yourself as a motionless target!”

A bullet flew past Katie's head and she screamed, dropping down to the ground just in time to avoid three more succeeding rounds.

“They're shooting at us?!?” she demanded in bewilderment. “They're fricking shooting at us!!!”

“Move!” Ray cried, pulling her back up and shoving her forward none too gently.

They narrowly made it into one of the street's adjoining alleyways as another salvo of gunfire rained down around them.

“Why the hell are they shooting at us?!?” Katie demanded, her head still spinning with confusion.

“I don't know.” Ray panted. He didn't look out of breath, but his wheezing and gasping made it sound as though he'd just run a mile.

“Are you alright?” Katie asked, her voice filling with concern.

“Yeah, yeah. I'm fine.” he lied, trying in vain to cover the growing red spot on his hip.

“Geez, Ray...” Katie made him stop. She pushed his hand away from the wound and watched as the blood stain grew at a rapid pace.

“It's fine. Really.”

“No, it's not. We have to -” Katie was cut off as Ray seized her by the waist and pushed her back behind a stack of cardboard boxes. He slid in after her, pushing her back deeper into the hiding spot. He spun around and pressed his his hand over her mouth and held a finger to his own lips as a sign for silence.

What the hell is he doing?!? thought Katie as the spot where she'd collided with the alley wall began to throb with pain. Her eyes burned furiously into Ray. She tried to mumble something, but he whispered,

“Keep quiet.”

Katie went quiet and she heard it too. There was someone talking at the end of the alley. Talking loudly, to be more specific.

“How the hell did you miss them?” demanded one man.

“They were faster than I would have thought.” the other said defensively. “I did my best.”

“Well, now it's your fault they got away.”

“But I tried -”

“Tried doesn't cut it!” the first man boomed. “Tried isn't going to save you from Kendra once she finds out you messed up!”

“But how much of a threat can they be? They're only human!”

Katie and Ray watched as the two men passed by their hiding spot. Though the boxes were an effective shield from the other direction, now it would be impossible for the cops to miss them if they looked back. Don't turn around, Katie prayed, the hand over her mouth unnecessary with the chilling sensation of fear now running through her and paralyzing her vocal chords. Please don't turn around.

“Listen, you worthless little toad,” the first man growled, pointing a finger threateningly at his partner, “Kendra herself assigned this mission. If you think for a second that she'll forgive you, I suggest you kill yourself now and spare yourself the disappointment.”

After a brief silence, the second man stuttered, “W-we should keep looking for them.”

“Damn right. Yours isn't the only life riding on this.”

The two men disappeared further into the alley in the alley, allowing silence to once again take hold of the narrow junction. Ray lowered his hand from Katie's mouth.

“What was that about?” she thought aloud, her voice little more than a undertone in the sound of the rain.

“I don't know,” Ray replied, “but I have a feeling we just heard something that we honestly weren't supposed to.”

~*~


Bob and Gerard skidded around traffic, weaving in and out of the rain-soaked fray with skillful agility. Risking a quick glance back, Bob saw that three of the police officers were in hot pursuit and were already calling for backup.

“What do we do now?!?” Bob yelled.

“I – have – no – idea!!!” Gerard shouted back between breaths.

Perfect, thought Bob. Where's Mastermind Gerard when we need him?

A sudden cry of pain caused Bob to falter. He turned around and realized he had lost track of Gerard. He had lost him...

“Gerard? Gerard?!?” Bob shouted frantically.

He heard a scream from one of the occupants of a nearby car and his attention turned immediately to it. Sitting ten feet to his right, a young woman in a sports car was bawling her eyes out, her finger pointing ecstatically at the ground next to her car. Even through the fiberglass doors and the reinforced safety windows of the vehicle, her shrill shrieks were audible. Bob ran over to where the automobile was sitting idle and saw what had caught her eye.

Gerard lay slumped against the sports car's front license plate, clutching the wound on his shoulder where a bullet had grazed the skin and drawn a steady stream of blood.

“Do you mind?” Gerard coughed, looking up at Bob.

“Man, you have seriously got to stop getting shot.”

Gerard laughed through clenched teeth, “I'll work on it.”

The girl in the car was still screaming and Bob knew that the police would be there in a heartbeat. He grabbed Gerard by the arm on the uninjured side of his body and hoisted him to his feet. Taking a quick look at the surrounding streets, a small glimpse of hope rose up inside of Bob.

“You see that subway tunnel over there?” he asked Gerard, pointing in its direction.

“No, not right – wait, yeah. The one with the green sign?”

“Yeah.” Bob nodded. “Let's get over there.”

“I don't know if that's -”

“Trust me. It'll work.”

They started running, but Gerard was still dubious. “Won't they expect that? Couldn't they just issue some kind of massive alert?”

“That's why we're not going down there.”

“Wait...” Gerard looked confused. “What?”

An inch from the steps, Bob swung Gerard to the side and behind a newspaper stand that sat a few feet from the railing, where the combination of the gray sky, the shadow cast by the wooden stall, and their dark clothing hid them perfectly from view.

“And, Gerard...?” Bob started.

“Yeah?”

“I'm really sorry about this.”

“Wh- augh!” Gerard cried out as Bob set his fingers against the open wound on his shoulder. A stream of blood poured onto his friend's fingers, pooling in the center of his palm.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!?” Gerard demanded, agony tearing through his shoulder. “Why did you just do that?!?”

Bob leaned over the railing, tossing the crimson drops onto the stairs below, where it spattered harmlessly onto the concrete steps.

“Look.” Bob pointed at the street in the direction they had come from. Gerard turned and saw the long, winding trail of blood that he had left in his wake along the asphalt, then understood.

“A diversion?” Gerard asked, though it came out as more of a statement than a question. “You know, you could explain these kind of things before hand.”

Bob laughed. “Now where's the fun in that?”

~*~


Sliding around the corner and into the alley, Mikey and Frank fled as fast as their legs could carry them from the pair of cops that persisted to chase them. A chorus of gunshots rang out behind them, signaling the need to pick up the pace. Frank was cursing heavily under his breath, his eyes darting frantically back and forth between the alley and its exit. Mikey, on the other hand, was managing to keep most of his fear hidden, though he had the feeling that if he weren't, he'd probably be panicking enough for the both of them.

They were approaching the spot where the hearse was parked, sitting disguised under the bedraggled gray cloth. For a second, Mikey imagined hopping into the vehicle and driving away before the police had the slightest chance to catch them, but those fantasies were quickly dashed when he remembered Gerard still had the keys. Mikey just about ran past the hearse when Frank grabbed him by the wrist and pointed silently towards the nook where the vehicle was parked.

“What?” Mikey asked, confused.

“Back there!” Frank hissed in probably the loudest whisper Mikey had ever heard. “There's a door!”

Mikey saw that Frank was right and they both bolted for the metal gateway. They reached the door and Frank's hands immediately shot to the door handle.

“Damn it!” Frank screamed as he tugged hopelessly on the down-turned bar.

“It's locked?!?” Mikey asked, anxiety obvious in his tone of voice.

“Nononononono...” Frank muttered, pulling fanatically at the knob. He started beating furiously on the door and shouting, “Help!!! HELP!!! We need help out here! Just please open the door!!!”

Mikey turned around and saw the cops' shadows stretching rapidly into the alley as they reached the entrance to the passage.

“W-we have to go another way...” he stammered.

“There's no time!” Frank was banging on the door even harder now.

“It's useless!”

“No, we just have to -” The door swung open unexpectedly and, without giving it another thought, Frank and Mikey stormed into the building, throwing the door shut behind them. It smacked hard into the door frame, sending a shudder through the hinges and causing them to give off a metallic ring. In his haste, Mikey tripped and fell on top of whomever had opened the door. Frank, on the other hand, managed to keep his balance and was over at the door's latches and locks in record time, snapping them shut and blocking what he hoped was the only way in.

“S-sorry.” Mikey apologized, struggling up on shaky legs.

“Mikey?”

Mikey looked down and saw Michelle on the floor. Her almond brown hair was more frazzled than he was used to seeing it and she looked a little panicked, but other than that, she seemed unscathed. She had fallen hard on her back when he had run into her and she still seemed to be recovering from the crash.

“Oh, geez, sorry.” he mumbled, reaching down to help her off the ground.

“I got it.” Michelle said, dismissing his hand with a smile. She rose unsteadily, leaning lightly against the room's wall for support. “So... I take it they're following you?”

“Yeah,” Frank breathed, “but I don't think they can get through the door.”

As if on cue, a torrent of bullets tore through the thin, metal-plated door, striking the wall only a hair's breadth from Michelle's face. She forced herself not to cry out and ducked down low, motioning for Mikey and Frank to do the same, though she hardly needed to. They dropped down almost instantly, staying pressed against the ground and listening for movement outside the wall of the building.

The sound of footsteps filled the dormant air, carrying easily through the bullet wounds in the weakened door. Michelle, Frank, and Mikey tried their best not to breathe, fearful that even the slightest noise would alert the police to their presence. There were voices outside, muffled by the rain and unintelligible from their position, but they could detect the annoyance and aggravation in their voices.

Why are they shooting at us?!? Frank thought, dismay running through his veins like a poison. We didn't even do anything!

After what felt like an hour, the sounds outside the door disappeared, fading away into the stormy streets, finally allowing them to breathe again. They stood up carefully, still wary and braced for any further attacks.

“W-w-we have to find the others.” Michelle whispered. “They could be in as much danger as we are. Maybe more.”

~*~


Trisha was waiting patiently beside her squad car when the first group of her officers returned. Three of them, all of whom seemed in healthy condition

“Is everything alright?” she asked immediately. “I heard gunshots.”

“They fired on us.” one of the men replied. “We had to fight back.”

“Did anyone get hurt?” Trisha asked, though they all looked in fit condition.

“We're all fine.” another one of them answered.

“What about them?”

“We followed two of them down into the subway.” he said, sheathing his firearm in the holster on his hip. “We tried to track 'em down but their trail disappeared.”

Just as he had finished talking, two more cops appeared from the direction of the alley from the left side of the street.

“Any luck?”

“No.” they responded in unison.

“Damn it...” Trisha murmured. “One of those bastards is wanted for kidnapping, assault, and attempted murder. We're not about to let them get away.”

“What about Eric and Steven?” the third in the first group of cops asked.

Trisha shook her head. “I radioed them a second ago. They're having about as much success as the rest of us.”

A sudden explosion of crossfire shook Trisha out of her slump. The sound had come from the alley across the street where Eric and Steven had ran only minutes ago, pursuing two of the suspects on foot.

“MOVE IT!!!” Trisha cried, she herself leading the way towards the passageway's entrance up ahead. The other five cops followed close behind, redrawing their guns and sprinting after her.

“FREEZE!!!” Trisha cried as they turned the corner into the alley and came within sight of the two suspects. She held her weapon out firmly, aiming down the street toward them with poised calm, fighting the natural instinct to scream.

At the end of the alley, backed into a corner by the police's line of fire, stood Ray and Katie. Katie was pressed against the brick wall, her heart racing a mile a minute, while Ray stood next to her, brandishing a police-issue Magnum out across the junction. However, it wasn't the gun that held her eyes captivated, for Trisha instantly saw them: the bodies of Eric and Steven lying blood-soaked and motionless at the suspects' feet.








Chapter Fifteen


Ray and Katie stood frozen in place, their eyes locked on the half dozen guns aimed squarely at their hearts. It took every inch of Ray's nerve to keep the weapon in his hand raised. Katie, on the other hand, was standing as still as possible, her eyes scanning the alley frantically for an escape route.

“Katie...” Trisha began, her voice sounding hurt and betrayed.

“Trisha.” Katie murmured. “Trisha, this isn't what you think.”

“Just... just put your hands up over your head. W-we can help you.”

“No, Trisha, please -”

“J-just drop the weapon...” Trisha stammered, her attention turning to Ray. He only tightened his grip on the firearm, but she could also see his arm shaking. He doesn't want to shoot us, she thought, but he didn't hesitate to kill them.

“Not until you do.” Ray shot back, stepping further in front of Katie.

“Please, if you let her go, we can talk this out. We can -”

“What? No, Trisha, i-it's alright.” Katie said hurriedly. She moved cautiously ahead of Ray, watching as the cops' guns moved with her. “He's not holding me against my will.”

“I don't...”

“Trisha, they tried to kill us.” she said boldly, indicating the bodies on the ground. “We had to do something.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” one of the police officers around Trisha barked. “We had orders not to use lethal force. They wouldn't have done anything of the sort without being provoked.”

“We didn't have any weapons.” Ray argued, setting a hand on Katie's shoulder.

“That doesn't mean you couldn't have threatened them.”

Ray rolled his eyes. “With what? Pebbles?”

“Look,” Trisha started, “if you turn yourselves in now, we can get this whole mess sorted out. Nobody else has to get hurt. I promise.”

“That's a lie.”

Trisha and Ray were glaring at each other, just waiting for the other to make a wrong move. Katie felt she should say something, but the look in the eyes of the other cops kept her silent. A dark thought crossed her mind. Very fleeting, but nonetheless powerful.

Are they in on it too?

“Where's Michelle?” asked Trisha.

“Why should you care?”

“Ray,” Katie whispered, “it's okay to tell her.”

“She's missing.” Trisha replied to Ray's question, not hearing what Katie had said. “It's my job to find her.”

“Really?” Ray persisted. “Because last I heard, you and your little crew here were only focused on killing us.”

Trisha's eyes narrowed. “That's a new one.”

“How about this: we turn ourselves in if you tell us who Kendra is.”

The entire group was silent. The men around Trisha stared wide-eyed at Ray, not sure what to say. Trisha herself was just confused.

“I don't know who you're talking about.” she finally responded.

“Of course you do,” Ray insisted. “She's the one that's having you do all this. She's the reason they tried to murder us.” He pointed down at the corpses of Eric and Steven.

Trisha seemed to falter for a second, her eyes darting between Ray and the bodies of her fallen comrades. For some reason, she found herself torn between the stories of this man she'd never met and her own judgment. How the hell do you know he's telling the truth? she thought. He could be making all this up. Then she saw the look in Katie's eyes. That look she could recognize for a mile away.

Trust.

Katie seemed to put every ounce of trust she had in him. Even Trisha, who'd never seen him before in her life, and had only now met him holding a gun towards her head, felt the strangest inclination to believe him. Was it fear or did she actually want to trust him too?

“I can honestly say I don't have a clue who you're talking about,” Trisha admitted, “but I swear, if we can just talk this out for a moment, I'm sure we can fix this situation quickly and easily.” She lowered her weapon.

“Are you crazy?” one of the cops asked in shock. “That son of a b***h shot Steven and Eric!”

Trisha looked ahead across the thirty feet that separated her from Katie and the stranger. She sighed and stepped forward. “I'm going to try and talk to them. There's only one way out of the alley and you five are standing in it. If they try anything, they won't be able to escape. Just give me a chance to get their side of the story.”

They hesitated at first, then the cop replied. “Alright, Trisha, but... damn it, be careful.”

Setting her gun on the ground, Trisha stepped forward carefully. She kept her arms raised above her shoulders, palms out towards Ray and Katie. Ray lowered the gun a little, his arm retracting slightly but still keeping the weapon aimed at Trisha's face.

“Alright, Katie. I want to know exactly what's going on.” Trisha whispered, quietly enough so that the other police officers couldn't hear her over the roar of traffic.

“You promise you'll believe me?” Katie asked skeptically.

“I've believed everything you've told me for the past twelve years. Why stop now?”

Katie signed. “Those men you're working with, we think they're aligned with some kind of demon group. They said they were supposed to kill us so we wouldn't be a threat; they referred to us as human. Who refers to other people as 'human'? And when they saw us, they didn't even say anything. They just tried to kill us. They didn't ask us to surrender, didn't tell us they were NYPD. If it wasn't for Ray,” She indicated the man standing next to her, “both of us would be dead.”

“Demon?” Trisha asked curiously. “Why do you assume that?”

“Look, it's a really long story, but to make it short, a lot of weird stuff has been happening over the last couple days. Really weird stuff.”

“Like...?” Trisha gestured none-too-discretely to her elbow.

“Yeah, that kind.”

“Why didn't you call me?” she hissed.

“Besides the fact that I was possessed by a demon for most of the last four days, it also just so happens that you are a cop. I can't exactly ring you up in the middle of the day and ask you to come out and fight the forces of evil.”

“But why do think the rest of them are in on it?” Though she still seemed wary, Ray thought Trisha sounded more ready to believe them than she had before.

“Didn't you hear the gunfire before?” he asked.

“Yeah, but -”

“None of our guys have weapons. Well, I mean, they might have found weapons by now, but probably not guns. People don't just leave dangerous firearms sitting around on the street.”

“This is New Jersey...”

“Your men opened fire on us for no reason.”

“They said you shot first...”

“They lied.”

Trisha didn't know how to reply.

“Just call your people off. Please.” Katie pleaded.

“Only if you hand the gun over.”

“Trisha...”

“Katie, I don't care what his reason is. He shot two people. Two people I've known and worked with for years.”

“But they -”

“In a situation like this, I could be asking a lot more.” Trisha observed sternly. “Give up the weapon and we can settle this decently.”

Ray looked uncertainly at Trisha, then his gaze flickered over to Katie. She seemed to think for a few seconds, then nodded. Reluctantly, he handed the Magnum to Trisha, who took it quickly from his hand.

“Please put your hands behind your back.” Trisha commanded, taking two sets of handcuffs from the belt at her waist.

Katie looked shocked. “Trisha, wait. You can't -”

“Katie, trust me on this.” said Trisha, her voice dropping to an almost inaudible whisper. She slapped the restraints over Katie's wrists, then Ray's. “If this doesn't go by the book, they'll turn on me in a second.”

“Wait – you... you believe us?” Ray asked in disbelief.

“I've been around these guys for years. That's long enough to notice a sudden change. Three days ago, they all had this sudden attitude thing, and now its just getting worse. I had a feeling something was up, but... the occult theory never occurred to me.”

“Then you'll help us?”

“I'll sure as hell try.”

Trisha grabbed both of them gently by the arms and led them towards the exit of the alley. The cops waiting there had relaxed themselves when she'd gotten the gun from Ray's hands, but their weapons were still drawn.

“You can put those away.” Trisha murmured to one of the officers she passed. “They're coming peacefully.”

“R-right.” he stammered, seeming hesitant to put the firearm away. He gave Ray and Katie a strange glance, then turned around to talk to one of the other men around him.

“That seemed rather forced, didn't it?” Ray muttered.

“I can't say I disagree with you now.” Trisha sighed.

“What do we do from here?”

“Just stay calm and don't draw attention to yourself.” she advised. “They're probably planning on offing you once we get back to the station.”

“There's a pleasant thought.” Katie grumbled.

Trisha led them down the street to the squad car she had driven. She opened the back door and motioned the two inside, both of which complied without another word. Glancing back at the officers still conversing at the street's entrance, she shuddered slightly.

“You okay?” Katie asked from behind the wire seat divider.

“Fine.” Trisha replied. “It's just weird to think that they might actually be... you know...”

“Possessed?”

“Yeah.”

“At least it's not like you can blame them.” Ray pointed out. “It was hardly their choice.”

Trisha smiled a little and she thought, How come everybody but me always knows the right thing to say?

~*~


Frank, Mikey, and Michelle emerged cautiously from their hiding spot, almost expecting to be shot down at any second. Frank's hands were held tightly around the body of a crowbar he'd found lying in the garage where they'd taken shelter. Mikey and Michelle, on the other hand, had decided to risk going unarmed, hopeful that they wouldn't need to battle their way out.

The alley was silent now, the day's excitement already having come and gone in a matter of moments. Activity beyond it seemed to have resumed its normal pace, with citizens walking up and down the busy street as though nothing had ever happened.

“How long were we in there?” Michelle asked warily.

Frank looked down at the watch on his right hand. “It says it's 10:29. We couldn't have been hiding for more than ten minutes.”

“But... it's so quiet...”

Mikey peeked out beyond the alley's walls, surveying the street outside. “The police are gone already.”

“Then we have to look for the others.” Frank prodded.

“How?” Mikey demanded, skepticism heavy in his voice. “We can't just wander around and expect to stumble upon them.”

“Well, if Ray still has his phone...”

“Uh, not exactly.” Mikey held up the cellular phone he and Ray had taken along to Mexico.

“Damn it...” Frank mumbled. “Wait, what about Gerard?”

“He... I think he still has his.”

“Alright,” He reached into his pocket and took out his phone, his fingers a blur as he dialed out Gerard's number. “I'm gonna try getting a hold of him.”

The phone rang four times before Gerard answered on the other end.

“Hello?”

“Gerard, it's Frank.”

“Frank, geez. Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, we – we're fine.”

“Who's all with you?”

“Mikey and Michelle. What about you?”

“Bob and I are still by the subway station. We saw what happened with the police.”

“What was it? Are Ray and...” Frank paused.

“Katie.” Michelle prompted him.

“... Ray and Katie okay?” he finished.

“I – I don't know for sure. They were arrested -”

“What?” A sinking feeling tore through Frank's stomach.

“All I know is that some girl was leading them into a cop car. She sped off before the rest of police, but they picked up on it and were gone pretty quickly too.” Frank could hear Gerard muttering to himself.

“So...” Frank continued, “what should we do?”

“Dammit, Frank, why the hell do you always expect me to know?” Gerard exploded from out of nowhere.

“Man, take it easy. It's just – you're usually the one that thinks of these things and... I don't know. I guess I'm just kind of used to you knowing what to do.”

“Well, if you can forgive me, I'm a little woozy with blood loss at the moment and I'm not exactly at my brightest. On a related note, the pain itself isn't exactly great for my already pissy mood.”

“Then somebody should come up with a plan.”

“Great idea. Any takers?”

Frank turned to Mikey and Michelle. “You folks happen to have any ideas?”

“Ones where we don't get hurt or ones where we most likely end up dying?” Mikey asked sarcastically.

“Living, preferably.”

“Then I got nothing.”

“Well, I mean, I have a friend that's a cop.” said Michelle. “Maybe she could help us out.”

“You know her number?”

“Yeah,” Michelle replied. “I can call her right now.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Frank asked rhetorically. He put his mouth up next to the phone's speaker again. “Gerard, we've got an idea, but I'll need to hang up. We'll call you back as soon as we know if it'll work or not.”

“Alright. Talk to you soon.”

Frank hung up, then handed the cell phone to Michelle. “Your turn.”

“She might be roaming...”

“You think I'm worried about a phone bill at a time like this? Just make the damn call.”

Without another hesitation, Michelle punched in the seven-digit number and waited as the ringing commenced.

~*~


Trisha jumped a little as the phone in her side pocket vibrated, signaling an incoming call. She swore quietly to herself. She had always hated seeing other people talking on their cell phones while driving, and she hated it even more when she had to be one of them.

“Hello?” Trisha started as she picked up the line.

“Trisha, I need to talk to you about something. It's really urgent.” The woman on the other end sounded frantic.

“Wait, wait... Michelle, is that you?”

“Yeah, but look. This is important. Where are you right now?”

“My squad car, actually. Funny story.”

“Is there any chance you can get to the area around Sycamore some time in the next few minutes?”

“This isn't by chance about the shoot out that went down over there a moment ago, is it?”

“Yeah, it... it is. How did you know?”

“Well, besides the fact my car has a police scanner, via which I know basically everything that goes on in Newark, I also happen to have a couple friends of ours sitting in my back seat.”

“You have Katie and Ray?”

“Yep.”

“Where are you guys?”

“We... just turned down Hazel. Now we're coming up on the highway.”

“Look, whatever you do, you can't take them to the police station.”

“I already know.”

“Yeah, but – wait, you do?”

“Katie explained it. I can drop them off, but it has to be somewhere safe. The other cops are still on the streets looking for you guys.”

“No, they're not.” Trisha heard another voice from the line's other end say.

“Michelle, who... who's that?”

“It's – his name's Frank. He's a friend of Ray's.”
“What does he mean by 'they're not'?” Trisha waited as Michelle traded the phone off to Frank.

“I mean that they left almost as soon as you did.”

“You saw them?”

“No, but we talked to someone who did.”

“Were they following us?”

“Without question. If you wanna take my word for it, I suggest you keep driving.”

“Exactly how far behind us were they?” Trisha asked, glancing in the rearview mirror.

“I don't know. A minute, maybe two.”

“I don't see them behind me...”

“Just try weaving around for a little while. Make sure they're off your trail.”

“Alright. Where should we meet you?”
The sound of quiet conversing reached Trisha's ear through the phone, then Frank returned and replied to her question.

“There's a subway station near where we are. You probably saw it coming onto Sycamore.”

“The 10th and Sycamore entrance? I know where that is.”

“Great. Can we plan on seeing you there?”

“Give us ten to fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. Later.”

Hanging up, Trisha set the phone down on the passenger's seat.

“Are they okay?” Katie asked immediately, leaning forward in her seat.

“They sound like it.”

“So... what do we do now?” Ray inquired.

“We'll drive around 'til ten-forty, then we'll make our way back to the subway.”

“Do you think they'll find us?” Katie muttered timidly.

“Not if we're careful. But it's not like we have to worry about it if they do. It's not like they can do anything in public. There's witnesses everywhere and -” Trisha was cut off as the vehicle was pummeled from the side by an oncoming squad car, launching the automobile across the street and into the wall of a building. A small cry escaped her throat, but she had little chance to say anything else as the car was crumpled up against the barrier.

Katie screamed as the force of the blow knocked her hard to the left, sending her crashing into Ray at breakneck speed. He grunted in pain as he was caught between her and the impacting side of the car. Shards of glass from the shattering windows exploded into the interior of the car, cutting into all three and carving shallow gashes across their skin.

When the dust had cleared and Ray found that he was still breathing, he looked up and saw what had happened to himself and the people around him. The entire left side of the car had been smashed to oblivion by its impact with the wall, forcing Ray to the right. There were a few tears in his jeans where the razor-sharp metal that had once been the car door had ripped at him, revealing small yet deeply gouged wounds that were bleeding incessantly. Katie was leaning against him, stunned yet apparently unharmed. Only a few small cuts from the glass were visible on her face, sending thin trails of crimson down her cheeks where it soaked into her collar. Trisha, however, seemed the worst for wear. Her breathing was shallow and ragged and he could tell that she was fighting tears.

“Trisha?” Ray asked with concern, leaning towards the divider. “Trisha, are you okay?”

“F-f-f-fine.” she lied. “W-w-what about you two?”

“What... what hit us?” Katie said dazedly.

“I d-didn't see it.”

Ray tried to reach his hands out to help him stand up, but they caught behind his back. The handcuffs, he remembered.

“Trisha,” he started. “do you have the keys for the handcuffs?”

“I... I... yeah. T-they're in my back pocket.” She shifted in her seat, taking in a sharp breath as an agonizing pain exploded through her entire body. Forcing herself to keep moving, she slid her fingers into the pocket and withdrew a single key on a brass ring. She unhooked the key and passed it through the screen, holding it in place until Ray could grab it with his teeth. As he moved forward to take it, he saw heavy streams of scarlet dripping over her fingers.

Wincing as he stretched one of the cuts on his neck, Ray bent down to the cuffs around Katie's wrists and unlocked one of the two sides of the restraint. She took the key from him and opened the other, then quickly proceeded to unbolt his.

“The door back there should be open.” Trisha wheezed.

Katie pulled the handle on the right-hand side door and it came open easily, allowing her to step out of the mangled vehicle and onto the street. Ray wasn't far behind, more than happy to be out of the compacted interior.

The sidewalks around them were filled with citizens staring in awe at the wreckage. A few were filming the scene with video cameras, while others were frantically relating it over their cell phones. A group of teenagers stood across the street, pointing excitedly at the crash as if it were the coolest thing they'd ever seen.

Little monsters, Katie thought angrily. She hurried to the passenger's door and threw it open.

Trisha was still sitting inside, her arms resting limply at her sides. She was slouched forward against the wheel, gasping for air silently.

“Ray!” Katie called hysterically.

He moved over in front of the door quickly. The instant he looked inside, he reached forward and shook Trisha by the shoulder. Her response was little more than a weak moan.

“She needs medical attention!” Ray called back over his shoulder.

“Somebody call 911!” Katie cried. Unfortunately, the people on the sidewalks were too preoccupied gaping to call for help.

Ray tried to pull Trisha out of the front seat, but she let out an ear-splitting scream. She lurched backwards, and it was then that he saw the massive spire of metal sticking up through the flesh of her leg. The red-tipped spear jutted out from the fractured side of the car, passing through the side of her thigh at an upwards angle and out of her skin. Blood was pouring from the wound, spilling over her lap and onto her hands and feet.

“I-I-I can't get it out!” Trisha sobbed, her fingers tearing at the serrated edge of the metal. Ray saw that she was ripping open the skin of her hands and pulled her back.

“You don't need to lose any more blood than you already have.” said Ray.

“Help me.” she whispered, tears spilling down her face.

Ray bit his lip. Leaning forward, he looked closely at where the spike had pierced her skin. The metal only seemed to be jagged from the other direction, and he had the feeling that removal wouldn't be as painful as it had been going in.

“This is going to hurt.” he warned. Bracing his leg against the dashboard, Ray grabbed hold of Trisha by her shoulders and knees.

“I don't care.”

Three, two, one, he counted off in his head. Now. Ray lunged backwards, falling out of the car and bringing Trisha with him. She shrieked in agony and he could feel her writhe in his arms. A shower of crimson sprayed from her leg, raining over the passenger's seat and onto the sidewalk below.

No, no, no, Katie thought in horror, staring at the blood rushing from her friend's body. She needs help now.

Ray took off his hooded sweatshirt as fast as he could, wrapping it around the injury on Trisha's leg. It took only a few seconds before the blood started to show on the outside, having already soaked through the thick folds of fabric.

“We need something thicker!” Ray yelled.

“A-alright.” Katie stammered. “Just keep her conscious. I'll be right -”

The sound of a gun cocking behind her head stopped Katie dead in her tracks.

Offline
Chapters 16-17


Chapter Sixteen


Katie couldn't move. Her nerves had gone as stiff as stone, and feeling of the weapon pressed against her skull overcame the rest of her. She could see the expression of terror on Ray's face, staring at the aggressor behind her. Trisha was still in his arms, her blood running down onto the cement and pooling at his feet.

Loosening her joints enough to turn around, Katie spun slowly, coming face to face with the barrel of a loaded rifle. Her heart jumped in her chest as her eyes locked with those of the cop holding the gun. At first the shadows cast by the gray morning covered his face, but it didn't take long for her to see the ink black smoke billowing from his empty eye sockets. A thin trail of vapor escaped his tightly shut lips, blowing towards her in the wind and launching the stench of brimstone into her nostrils.

“Ray...” Katie whispered. “Get out of here.”

“What?” he demanded. “I'm not leaving.”

“Of course you're not.” the cop growled. His voice was distorted by demonic taint, giving his words the consistency of nails on a chalk board. “None of you are.”

“So you're just going to shoot us? In front of all these people?” Katie tried to back away, but the officer advanced with her, pushing the barrel deeper into her forehead.

“Sounds like a plan, doesn't it?” the demon inside him laughed. “I blow your guts out over the pavement, phase myself out of this sorry fleshbag, and leave him to take the blame. Not half bad, if I do say so myself.”

“Why are you doing this?”

“If I was planning on telling you, I would have already.”

“This is about the war... isn't it?” Katie asked, trying to stall for time.

The demon raised an eyebrow. “Now how does a girl like you know about that?”

“I have my sources.”

“All the more reason to eliminate you.” He flashed a sadistic grin.

“If you think this is going to help, you're wrong. It'll only serve to alert the rest of the hunting community.”

“You'd be surprised. We've already murdered half the hunters on this planet and you didn't even notice.”

“H-half?” Katie stuttered. The sheer entirety of what he was saying nearly rendered her speechless.

“The United States is one of the only countries left with formidable defenses.” He turned to Ray. “Once we've wiped you and your kind off this coast, there will be no group left alive powerful enough to stop us.”

“My kind?” Ray asked, venom dripping from his words.

“You and your friends are the last exorcist organization remaining. We are hardly worried about vigilantes. They will fall easily when the time comes. Groups, however, are much more dangerous. That is why you must die.”

“Oh, well I feel much better now. Thanks for clearing that up.”

“The... the last organization?” Katie looked as pale as a ghost. “The others...”

“All other organizations have been incorporated to our side or exterminated.”

“That's... not possible.”

“And why would that be?”

“Because...” Katie laughed in dark disbelief. “I know there are others. Others you haven't found.”

The demon tried to look like he couldn't care less, but both Katie and Ray caught the droop in the twisted corners of his mouth.

“We've found them all.” it objected. “We missed no one.”

“That's what you'd like to believe, isn't it?” She stared at him furiously, defiant to him and his attempt to scare her. I am scared, Katie thought. I've never been this scared in my life. But showing it isn't going to help.

“Silence...”

“Admit it; you and your fellow goons have no way of knowing who's left. For all you know, maybe you've only wiped out a fragment of the planet's hunters. What if there's a million of us left that you don't even know about? You'd never see it coming.”

“Shut your mouth...”

“Killing us won't do anything. There's probably thousands more of us that you'll never even know about. They'll be the ones that stop you, not us.”

“This has gone on long enough.” the demon hissed. He pressed the rifle under Katie's chin. “For your information, Katherine, we know where every hunter on Earth is. We've tagged you like dogs and the only way you could escape us is to flee to Otherworld. In which case, you wouldn't be a threat to us in the first place. On a darker note, even if for some reason slaughtering you does as little good as you propose, the pleasure I'll get from watching your brains explode into the morning sky will be enough reward for me. Get my drift?”

“You're psychotic.”

“I'm a fricking demon, gal.” he grinned, revealing row upon row of glistening fangs. “It's not my job to be nice. Now -” He dug the barrel as deep as he could into the flesh of her throat, “any last requests?”

Katie was silent, completely hypnotized by the creature's billowing eyes.

“Just one.” Ray's voice rang out from behind her. “Duck.”

A gunshot went off beyond Katie's head, the bullet flying over her shoulder and into the face of the possessed cop. He screamed in torment as his skull exploded in a plume of obsidian smoke, pieces of his ashen flesh flying over the street. His hands felt futily at the stump that remained of his neck, trying vainly to contain the essence spilling out of his captured body. The rifle in his hands dropped to the ground.

“C-c-curse you.” the demon's voice stuttered from the depths of its stomach. “You'll die for this!” The fog jetting from its neck had dwindled down to little more than a stream, allowing Ray and Katie to see the bloodied remains of the man's neck.

“You planning on coming out?” Ray asked threateningly, pointing the gun he'd taken from Trisha at the body's heart.

A sinister hiss escaped the mangled neck, followed by a thick pillar of cloud-colored ash. The stream poured into the sky where it took shape quickly, becoming a small, bat-like creature that hovered above the wreckage, its narrow red eyes staring down menacingly over the street. It beat its pale leathery wings, all the time spitting in fury.

“You will die! All of you! There's more of us; more than you'll ever know! Heed my word, Toro! I will kill you myself!”

“All talk, no walk.” Ray muttered as the small demon flew off into the sky, leaving the scene of pandemonium far behind.

~*~


The paramedics arrived only three minutes after the call went out, rushing to Trisha immediately and getting her on board a stretcher. They quickly proceeded to zip the headless cop up inside one of the ambulance's available plastic body bags, loading him up into the car and out of public eyes. It did little use.

Ray had already fled the scene on Katie's advice, leaving her alone to deal with the harassment and nagging of the recently arrived cops.

“Did you or did you not shoot that man?” one of the officers demanded brusquely.

“If I say no,” she snarled, “would you believe me?”

“Then who did?” another persisted.

“Hell if I know.” Katie lied. “Must have been one of the onlookers.”

“You've referred to her by first name.” the first officer noted, looking at her suspiciously. “Did you know her previous to this engagement?”

“Not that's it's any business of yours, but yes. Trisha and I happen to be good friends.”

“How do you explain the fact that her weapon is missing?”

Katie shrugged believably. “How should – damn it, why do you expect me to know these things?”

“If Officer McKee doesn't have it and neither do you, we can only expect it was taken by a third party. One that you must have seen at the time of the incident.”

“Look,” she started, shaking her head. “I have no idea who stole her frickin' gun. If I did, I swear on my life I'd tell you. But as it turns out, I didn't, so unless there is something I can actually do to help you with your investigation, I don't think you have any more need of me. Now if you'll excuse me, I have previous engagements that need to be kept.” No one noticed her fingers crossed tightly behind her back.

“I'm sorry, ma'am, but we can't let you leave. We still have more questions.”

“Screw your stupid questions; I have a life, you know.”

“Ms. Marsden, you can't leave.”

Katie sighed, but then perked up as she looked over the heads of the men around her. “About time the media got here.”

The entire group turned in unison, prepared to see a swarm of news vans seething through the streets. Instead, they saw nothing but empty pavement.

“What the hell are you talking ab -” the first cop started, but cut himself off when he saw Katie already sprinting away down the nearest alley.

“Son of a b***h!” he cried. “Somebody catch her!”

The entire squadron gave chase, pursuing her down the winding alleys. A few dropped out quickly, falling behind the rest of the group in a matter of seconds. The rest, though, held tight on Katie's trail, closing the gap slowly but surely behind their target.

You'll lose them, Katie told herself as she glanced back over her shoulder. You've got a shortcut.

She emerged from the alleyway onto 10th Street and looked around quickly. Her eyes caught sight of what she was searching for and she set her course for the gaping entrance to the subway station.

The cops closest behind Katie saw her vanish down the staircase and followed as quickly as they could, pushing past the crowded street's occupants in their pursuit. They soared down the steps after her, their long legs skipping as many as three steps at a time. The citizens in the stairwell backed up against the walls to give the police room to run, knowing that anybody the cops were putting this much effort in to catch was well worth catching. It had become a mutual agreement between the city's inhabitants and its law enforcement.

However, the maneuver proved useless as the cops reached the main terminal of the subway and were consumed by the thousand-strong horde of Newark's citizens who had no idea what was going on. And just like that, they'd lost Katie in the teeming mass.

~*~


Katie emerged from the subway station at 10th and Sycamore, a mixture of emotions playing through her head. She was happy that she had gotten away from the police, saddened by the grievous injury Trisha had received, and angry at herself for getting her friend into the situation in the first place. Still, Trisha had no tie with the demon incident. At least not that the creatures would know of. The one that had tried to kill them wouldn't bother with her; she'd been in too much pain to remember any of it. Now it was her new friends she was worried about. Those demons would do anything to eliminate them.

The rain over Newark had returned with a vengeance, pelting down on the skin of unprotected citizens and sending them running for shelter. The few who carried umbrellas strolled about easily on the sidewalk, completely oblivious to the world around them. Rain water collected rapidly in the gutters along the street, creating a melancholy gurgling sound as it poured down into the nearest storm sewers.

Where's an awning when you need one? Katie thought, her eyes desperately scanning the store fronts along the street. She quickly caught sight of a weak flame winking in and out of existence near the door to a clothing outlet, and moments later, heard the accompanying sound of a lighter's clicking. Her ears then caught a familiar tune hummed from the same direction. Ring Around the Rosie? A grim smile crossed her face.

She made her way over to where the lighter glowed out across the streets, and as she neared, the figure holding it materialized gradually from the curtain of rain. He was lightly shorter than herself and pretty soon she could recognize the outline of his head. Normally she wasn't that good at matching names to faces, but Nashome had helped with that. At least in this case.

“Still working on the nonchalance, Frank?” Katie asked as she walked up to him.

“Says who?” He flashed her a wide grin.

“Did Ray make it back?” she inquired, changing the subject abruptly to more pressing matters.

Frank caught the hint and his face turned serious too. “Yeah, like five minutes ago. But where's that other girl? Tish?”

“Trisha.”

“Right. Trisha.”

“You mean Ray didn't tell you?”

“He was sort of out of breath when he got here. So... what happened to her?”

“She needed to get to the hospital.”

“Yeah, but where is she now?”

“Somebody called an ambulance. She's on the way there.”

“You didn't go with her?”

“I would have if it didn't mean endangering both of our lives.”

Frank looked confused. “Come again?”

“The demon knows that there was no way Trisha could be witness to whatever went on there. What they don't know...” Katie's voice trailed off.

“Know what?”

“Sorry, I was... thinking about something else.”

“And what exactly would that be?”

“It's nothing, alright? Just – I just lost my train of thought.” She turned to move further down the alley but Frank stopped her.

“It's more than that, isn't it?”

“The hell do you care?”

“Are you lying to me?”

“That should be pretty obvious to the crowned prince of cover-ups.”

Frank glared at her. “For your information, I told Mikey.”

“That's great. Did you tell the rest of them?”

“Trying to switch the subject, are we?”

“I honestly don't know -”

“You're the one in the hot seat now, Katie. There's something about Trisha that you're keeping from us, and if I'm not mistaken, it relates to you and Michelle, too.”

“That's bull.”

“No, it's not.” Frank's eyes were fixed with Katie's.

Katie held up a hand. “I've heard enough of this. You're just as stubborn as the rest of those idiots you hang around with.” Oh, crap. The moment she said it, she wished she could take it back.

Frank's brow furrowed even further. Without a word, he pushed her aside and walked off down the alley, muttering to himself.

Way to go, Katie, she thought miserably. First Mikey, now him. Pretty soon all of them are gonna hate you.

Katie followed a few paces behind Frank, knowing full well that an apology wasn't going to cut it at the time being. She felt like crap. She hadn't meant to snap at him like that, but she couldn't help it; she had made a promise to Trisha and Michelle and she intended to keep it.

They moved deep into the back alleys, where the rain had yet to reach the ground. Thunder rumbled in the distance, drowning out the sound of distant traffic. Ugh, Katie thought, looking over the red brick walls. I'm so friggin' sick of alleys.

Up ahead, Katie could see two beams of light piercing the rain, casting their illumination over the wall to the left. She turned in the other direction and saw the Chemobile sitting idle with the covering sheet pulled halfway off, revealing the front seat and a portion of the back. Mikey and Gerard were leaning against the hood, watching the rain course down the walls and to the pavement far below. Michelle, Bob, and Ray were talking behind the right side of the vehicle, barely glancing at Frank and Katie as they approached.

“Frank,” Katie started, “look, I didn't mean what I said back there...”

Frank shrugged her off, walking over to where the Chemobile was parked, leaving Katie standing on her own at a distance from the car. She saw Gerard try to start up a conversation with him, but he ignored him just like he had her and moved over to the passenger's side door.

“Can we go now?” Frank asked irritably.

Katie looked at him skeptically. Geez, I didn't say anything that bad.

Gerard glanced at her then back to Frank. “Um, yeah. Sure. Come on, guys. Time for another fun-fun car trip.”

“I'm driving.” Mikey said immediately. “I'm not sitting in the back again.”

The rest filed into the hearse's rear cabin, lining up in the same uniform fashion they had before. Katie was sitting directly behind the passenger's seat and she could see Frank's head over the low headrest. She didn't know what to say at first but, after a second, she knew what she had to do. If she kept this up, she wasn't going to have anybody on her side, and at a time like this, that was something she couldn't afford.

She took a deep breath then spoke, breaking the awkward silence that had taken over the vehicle's air.

“Frank,” she began, “I'm sorry about what I said -” The other four in the back looked at her strangely. She heard Frank shift uncomfortably in his seat, not sure how to respond. “- but you have to understand why I said it. Not the... the one thing. That was uncalled for and I feel like an a*****e for saying it. But... the other thing... There will never be a better time than this one to tell you guys. We're being hunted by the cops, tracked by otherworldly demons, and I'm pretty sure at least a few of you are pretty much willing to strangle me.” Mikey looked away, seeming slightly embarrassed. “You want to know the truth and here it is.”








Chapter Seventeen


“Michelle, Trisha and I are part of a group called the Silent Underground.” Katie started, speaking slowly as if having to fight with herself to force the words out of her throat. “It's – it's a hunter's organization on the east coast. It's massive, stretching all the way from Boston to Washington D.C. It's... we're one of the largest groups on the planet, if not the largest. But we've managed to stay hidden. No one knows we exist; not even the demons. Our base of operations is in New York City, and we manage to keep it as far from the public eye as possible. So far, we've been successful.”

“How many of you are there?” Bob asked from his seat across from Katie.

She paused, thinking over the numbers in her mind. There were always new members joining and it was nearly impossible to know the exact number. Instead, Michelle spoke up.

“Two thousand ninety-one, last time I checked.” Michelle said, answering for her friend. “It could have changed by now.”

“Damn.” Ray muttered. “How do you keep a two-thousand person organization hidden?”

“It's not easy, that's for sure.” Katie replied. “But we're very selective about our membership.”

“But didn't that thing say that all the organizations -”

“I don't know, but apparently, the demons haven't managed to find us yet. I'm not sure how it's possible, but somehow we've managed to avoid being tracked. Otherwise, they'd have come after a group as large as ours already.”

“Why didn't you tell us before?” Frank asked from the front seat. It was the first time he'd spoken in a while.

“I... I'm not sure exactly. I guess it was a combination of the stress and the secrecy. I'm not used to sharing this with anybody, so when I finally meet somebody that would understand... I still feel like I have to keep it to myself. I know it sounds juvenile, and I know it sounds stupid, but... you have no idea how much it means to us that we stay hidden. There's so many lives that could be ruined if this gets out to the wrong people... I guess we've learned not to trust anybody.”

Michelle had looked apprehensive when Katie had first started to talk, almost betrayed, but now she seemed understanding. She knew what it was like to have to keep these things hidden and it tore her apart inside. Katie's willingness to share was a blessing in disguise and she could already feel a weight lifting off her already burdened shoulders.

Everyone in the hearse was quiet for a moment. They glanced back and forth between one another, waiting for someone to talk. It was Frank who finally spoke out.

“So... I guess this would be as good of time as any to accept your apology?” he started cautiously.

“Only if you mean it.” Katie replied, smiling weakly.

“Hell yes.”

“Then what are we waiting for? Let's get this show on the road.”

“Um, problem.” Mikey mumbled. “Where exactly are we going?”

“Glad you asked.” she turned to Michelle. “I do think it's time we show the guys around the underground, don't you?”

~*~


The hearse rolled to a stop on the Hudson waterfront, its tires crunching on the wet gravel below. The headlights blinked out and the windshield wipers ceased their movement as the vehicle's engine shut off. Mikey climbed out of the driver's seat, then signaled for the rest of the group to egress as he had. They all filed out of the car smoothly and orderly.

“Are you sure this is the place?” Gerard asked skeptically as his eyes swept over the dismantled marina that surrounded them. The entire area looked as if it hadn't been cleaned, much less occupied, in years. Every dock and every warehouse was heavily tagged by graffiti artists, and a few had even been torn to pieces.

“Positive.” Katie replied.

“Couldn't have chosen a much more reclusive location...” Ray noted, gazing out across the river.

“It pays off. We've never had an intruder. Ever.”

“Wow.” He looked impressed. “That's more than I can say for our 'impregnable fortress'.”

“How so?”

“We've had to change bases... what?” He turned to Bob. “Four times now?”

Bob laughed. “Try six. You forgot to add last month's and... well, today's.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“You guys can stay with us for a while.” Michelle piped up. “We've got more than enough room in the underground.”

“We don't want to be a hassle...” Gerard started.

“Pff, you won't be at all. Trust me. If we can handle two thousand ninety-one people, we can handle two thousand ninety-six.”

“I feel like such a statistic.” Frank moaned, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye.

Katie smiled a little. She was glad to hear Frank had reverted to his usual good humor.

“Well what are we waiting for?” Michelle asked, tugging on Katie's arm. “Are we going to give them the grand tour or not?”

“Of course.” Katie gestured towards the row of warehouses along the coastline. “Right this way.”

They followed her as she moved towards the doors of a wooden locker that was leaning strongly to the left, its walls warped by time and mist from the river. Mold grew in abundance over its rotting walls and ivy grew up around the base of the structure. The building's windows were shattered and broken out across the surrounding grounds, littering the terrain with a treacherous coating of jagged glass.

The doors themselves did little more than hide the building's interior. Each the size of airport bay doors, the wood they were made of was splintered and decayed. In some places, it had worn so thin that holes had appeared, revealing the ominous dark inside.

“Spooky.” Mikey mumbled.

“You thinks its creepy on the outside?” Michelle asked mysteriously. “You should check out what it looks like in there.”

“I have a feeling I won't have to wait too long.” he said in return, nodding towards Katie who was already pushing one of the massive doors to the side.

“Need any help with that?” Ray asked, stepping over to where Katie was standing.

“No thanks.” she puffed. “I think I can handle it.”

The door shuddered, then slid compliantly away from the entrance, allowing a stale breath of putrid air to escape the interior. Katie gagged a little as the odor filled her senses and she fought the urge to take a deep breath. She'd made that mistake before and she wasn't about to do it again.

“What the hell is that?” Gerard demanded, holding his hand over his nose and mouth.

“We're not sure yet.” Michelle answered. “We're guessing a combination of dead rodents, animal feces, and sewer water.”

“I think I'm gonna puke.” Frank muttered.

“Suck it up.” Mikey said, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

“I honestly don't know what I find more disturbing.” Frank started, looking back and forth between Mikey and the warehouse. “The smell or the fact that you aren't bothered by it.”

“The sooner we go in, the faster we can get away from it.” Katie said, waving them inside.

“You expect us to go in there?” Frank asked in disbelief.

“What? You thought I was kidding?”

“No, but I sure as hell hoped so.”

As soon as they stepped into the building, they were enveloped by sheer darkness. Katie slid the door shut behind them, cutting off the last sliver of light that had served to illuminate the chamber.

“Think you guys can follow my voice?” Katie called from a short ways away.

“That depends.” Bob began. “Are there any dangerous objects in here that we could trip over and die?”

Katie laughed dryly. “Not that I'm aware of.”

“Then I'd say that's a yes.”

“Alright then. Follow me.”

Katie took care to speak the entire time as they moved, wanting to make sure no one got lost in what she knew what a hazardous maze of crates and boxes. One wrong turn could separate them for hours, and she had a feeling time wasn't on their side. She kept up a conversation with Ray, who was walking directly behind her and to the right. They talked about basically anything they could think of to fill the time it took to traverse the vast storage room, until eventually she called out for them to stop.

“You guys can hear me, right?” she called back.

“Loud and clear.” Michelle replied from the back of the procession.

“Now there's an elevator shaft somewhere... on my right. Feel along the walls and see if you can find the button.” The entire group moved forward, their hands moving blindly over the rough wood.

Michelle tried to feel for a part of the wall she remembered from her many visits here. Her hands were already calloused against the legions of splinters that protruded from the wood, allowing her to move without hindrance over the gnarled surface. She felt her fingers brush up against skin and she retracted slightly.

“Sorry.” she stammered, her eyes glancing over to her left where she saw another figure's shadowed outline in the darkness.

“Don't worry about it.” he replied. It was Mikey's voice.

Michelle blushed slightly and was thankful for the absence of light. She didn't know why her cheeks had suddenly flushed crimson – whether it was embarrassment or something else – but she still preferred nobody see. She knew Katie well enough to know how she'd interpret it and her friend's nagging was the last thing she needed right now.

“Found it.” Gerard called out from a few feet away.

“Did you press it?” asked Katie.

He paused. “Was I supposed to?”

“Yes.”

“Then yeah, I did.”

A loud mechanical humming started up below their feet, coming ever closer as they stood still and waited for something to occur. The noise came to a stop somewhere in front of them, and for a few seconds, nothing happened.

“You sure you pressed the right button?” Mikey asked.

“There was one button.”

There was a short silence.

“You sure you pressed it?”

“Damn it, Mikey -”

Gerard was cut short as the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, bathing the warehouse in a blinding sterile light.

~*~


“Wow.” Frank murmured, shielding his eyes from the sudden of illumination.

“Doesn't that kind of thing give you epilepsy or something?” Gerard asked cautiously.

Katie shrugged. “I dunno. Probably.” She stepped forward into the elevator car, followed closely by Michelle.

“You five gonna stand there gawking at some bright light all day?” Michelle laughed.

“Hell no.” Frank grinned. “A big glow-y light fixture doesn't change the fact that it this place smells worse than a public shower.”

“I second that.” Ray said quickly, tagging along with Frank into the elevator.

“Third.” Bob called out.

“Fourth.” Gerard and Mikey said in unison.

They crowded into the small elevator car, most of them keeping their gaze towards the ground to avoid the light. Out of the corner of his eye, Frank saw Katie press the button on the lift's right hand wall. The doors slid shut and the hydraulics above the elevator hissed, signaling the mechanism's descent.

“I assume it gets darker than this?” Ray asked nonchalantly.

“As can be expected.” Katie replied. “I'm as big of fan of this as you are.”

The elevator dropped quickly, descending for what seemed like an eternity down the surrounding shaft. Overhead, the light flickered incessantly, allowing brief bursts of relief from the harsh illumination.

“So...” Gerard started. “How long has this group been going?”

“The Silent Underground? About three years now.” said Michelle.

“And you've already managed to get over two thousand people?”

“Well, about half of them joined when we first started, and the other thousand have merged with us gradually over the course of our existence.”

“Still, that's pretty good for a hidden coalition.”

“Guess so.” she said, nodding.

After another minute of silence, the elevator came to a halt and the light above them went out, filling the car with complete and utter darkness.

“Huh.” Frank murmured. “That's a change.”

The doors opened wide with another hiss of steam. They stepped out of the car into a lengthy hallway that spread out in either direction from the elevator. The fluorescent lights overhead glowed blue against the similarly tinted walls of the corridor and saturated the black floor with a cerulean tint. Every surface of the passageway, from its ceiling to its tiled path, was smooth as silk, a feel accentuated by the ebony-colored gossamer curtains draped over the roof.

Down the left side of the hallway they could see a gateway which had been barred shut by boards and nails and marked with yellow hazard tape. The little of the tunnel that was visible beyond the barricade was pitch black and cloaked in shadow, suggesting that whatever stood there was meant to stay hidden.

To the right, a set of wrought-iron gates stood guard at the end of the corridor, their huge brazen forms blocking the way into the next room. They were inlaid with all sorts of metal flowers and animals, their sleek and rustless bodies intertwining with the bars. Live roses grew around the portcullis as well, ranging in color from rich red to coal black. A few delicate white blossoms stood out against the rest of the floral array. Though their petals had turned teal under the hall's filtered light, they retained their snow-like flawlessness. Dead center in the gateway, a massive iron padlock held the two halves of the portal together, its body wrapped around an arms-thickness chain that snaked through the surrounding bars.

“Um, is it just me, or do both ways look like dead ends?” asked Bob.

“That's 'cause they're supposed to.” Katie replied, cocking an eyebrow. “Makes it so only the people who belong here can get in.”

She led them down the right side of the hallway, keeping her eyes fixed on the doors ahead. Ray picked up his speed and made his way from the back of the line to her side.

“What's down that other way? The one that's boarded off.”

Katie looked at him suspiciously. “What's it to you?”

“Nothing. It's just – I guess it's natural to wonder about things like that.”

She laughed. “Well, down here we try to avoid that instinct. In most cases, curiosity only gets us a high body count.”

“That's a nice outlook on life.” Frank chimed in from behind them.

“It's called reality.” she shot back.

“It's called pessimism if you ask me. Where's your sense of adventure?”

“Adventure I can handle. Idiotic thrill-seeking for the sake of proving a wild idea is an entirely different concept”

Frank shrugged. “I guess it's all how you look at it.”

They had reached the iron gates and now Katie stepped forward from the rest of the group. She rolled up the sleeve on the left side of her jacket, revealing the heavily tattooed limb underneath. Turning her elbow towards the lock, she pressed her arm up against the keyhole.

Frank, Ray, Gerard, Bob, and Mikey watched in fascination as the metal of the lock molded around the skin of her arm. It grew over her flesh with a distraught creaking sound, as if the ore in the padlock were somehow alive. Ensnaring her hand completely, ghost-like, metallic tendrils reached out from the keyhole and wrapped themselves around Katie's flesh, feeling for a presence they'd recognize. They froze instantly when they reached her elbow, then retracted almost instantly back into the lock. The rest of the metal relinquished her hand and returned to its former state, leaving behind no clues to its previous transformation.

When the gates swung opened, the five men were still staring open-mouthed at Katie. She saw this and turned to them, hands on her hips.

“What? You guys never seen a Otherworld Seal before?”

“Nope.” Gerard replied.

“That was... weird.” Frank said, looking slightly disturbed. “And that's coming from me.”

Michelle chuckled. “I thought you guys were in the business.”

“We are,” Mikey responded defensively, “but... the whole 'Man-eating Padlock' thing's never came up before.”

“Then it seems we're living on two different sides of the same world.”

“How did you do that?” Ray asked.

Katie held up her arm so they could see her elbow. The men's eyes fell upon the key tattooed over the end of her left forearm. The mark was topped by a skull with flaming red eyes, identical to the one Gerard had seen on Michelle in the same location. “The Seal can sense the presence of the Silent Underground marking.” she said confidently. “Only those that have gotten the ink can get in.”

“So... we just hang around outside 'til we can get the tattoo?”

“I hate needles.” Gerard muttered.

“Ha, no, you don't have to worry about that.” Katie said reassuringly, pulling the sleeve of her jacket back down. “As long as somebody with the Underground goes through with you, you five are free to come and go through these doors as much as you want.”

“Sounds like a bother.” Frank noted.

“Hardly. People come and go very often. Just ask somebody who's passing by to let you borrow their arm and they'll be happy to comply.”

“They'd do that for random strangers?”

“You'd be surprised.” Michelle replied. “The folks down here are a lot different from the people you're used to.”

“Awesome. Sounds like this place should be pretty cool.” Frank grinned.

“And you haven't even seen it yet.” Katie observed. “If you think the people are that great, you'll be blown away by the place itself.”

“Then why are we standing around here talking about it? I wanna check it out.”

“This way.” Katie said, waving them towards the darkened room beyond the gates. They rushed through quickly, eager to see what waited on the other side. What they saw rendered them speechless.

Offline
Chapters 18-20


Chapter Eighteen


What Sion's home achieved in awe and Christian splendor, the Silent Underground received double in stunning aesthetics. The room where they now stood towered twelve stories high, its vaulted ceiling rising at a steep angle and up into the darkness above. Hazy blue lighting illuminated a cavern that could only be described as unfathomably large, sending muted shadows down onto the floor of the chamber. However, it wasn't the sheer size of the room that had them gaping.

Filling the entire chamber, its edges scraping up against the roof of the cave, was a massive underground city. The buildings that created it were constructed entirely of concrete and stone, compressed together in a Pueblo village-like superstructure. Those that weren't directly connected were linked by skywalks of glass and steel, their sides rounded to form circular walls around the occupants. Streetlights sprouted from the roofs of various levels of the subterranean metropolis, shedding crystalline light over the community lots that had been established on top of the city.

In the center of the cluster, revealed by the brilliant red strobe lights on the rooftops around it, sat the tallest building of the city. It was set out prominently against the rest of the backdrop, marked with the colossal symbol of a skull and key on its utmost walls. The roofs surrounding it supported a miniature, hand-planted park, its grasses spreading over the next few blocks with ease until it came to a stop halfway through the city. Through this chief building, there also passed an elevated set of subway tracks, a path which cut through the fifth floor of the tower and out the other side.

The seven stood at the furthest edges of the city. They gazed in wonder at the monumental structure, hardly able to take in what they saw. Even Katie and Michelle, who had already seen it hundreds of times, glowed with a feeling of great respect and admiration for the safe haven.

“Welcome to the Underground.” said Katie.

“It's... it's amazing.” Ray breathed.

“That doesn't even begin to describe it.” murmured Gerard.

“I can give you a short tour on the way to the medical wing.” she said, turning to them.

“Medical wing?” Mikey asked.

“It's like a hospital.”

“No, I mean, why do we need to go there?”

“Um, in case you forgot, both your brother and Ray have been shot.”

Gerard shrugged, but then regretted it immediately as the wound on his shoulder erupted with pain. “It's not that big of a deal -”

“Then I'm sure it won't take too long to fix up.” Katie said, giving him a stern look.

“Whatever.” he replied, rolling his eyes.

“We could arrange for a place for you to stay while you're in there.” Michelle suggested. Katie nodded in agreement.

The entrance to the city loomed before them. It was formed of a imposing concrete arch shaped in an elliptical angle with scarlet curtains hanging down over the pathway, blotting out whatever lay beyond. The arch was wedged in between the two surrounding buildings, its stone edges merging with those of the monolithic structure around it.

They passed under the curtains, leaving the pale blue light of the outer cavern in their wake. Overhead, a ceiling appeared from seemingly nowhere, consuming the path and bringing them immediately into the indoors.

“Does anybody here ever get any sunlight?” Frank asked curiously.

“Not too often.” Michelle replied.

“But... you don't actually live down here, do you?”

“Well, yeah. I do. Katie as well, but we spend more time above ground than most people here.”

“How can they just stay down here so long? Doesn't it drive them nuts?”

Michelle shook her head. “It's not like they've never been outside. They're perfectly capable of going outdoors, they just prefer not to.”

The short entry hall ended at another set of iron gates, but this one wasn't locked. Katie pushed on them and they swung open easily. They stepped inside, followed by Frank and Ray, then Gerard, Bob, and Mikey.

The room they had entered was a sort of reception area. It was dominated in the center by an elegant obsidian fountain carved in the shape of a lion, its mouth opened wide to spray water into the pool below. The surrounding area was filled with a variety of potted plants and flowers, growing from the ornately shaped trellises that descended from the ceiling. A few dozen people were scattered about the room, some of them grouped into small clusters while others wandered around on their own, content with only the company of only their own thoughts.

Frank stopped beside a blue-leafed tree that hung suspended from the roof, brushing his fingers over the plant's foliage. Tiny needles on the surface of the leaves pricked at his his skin, but they were so small he hardly felt a thing.

“What is this?” he asked, turning to Katie.

“Cherubim sapphire.” she replied. “It's native to Otherworld.”

“I thought Otherworld plants couldn't survive on Earth...”

“The Silent Underground found out how to replicate the chemical in Otherworld's atmosphere a few months ago. We filled the air throughout the entire complex with it, including the oxygen beyond our walls. Since then, we've been able to import a wide variety of plants to fill our parks and greenhouses.”

“Wow, I feel really stupid when you say it like that.”

She laughed. “Well, if it makes you feel any better, I still don't understand how it works. We leave that up to our scientists.”

Katie and Michelle led through one of the chamber's many off-branching doorways and into the next hallway. Each side of the passage was lined with a various assortment of doors and openings, leading into a thousand different places that they could only begin to fathom.

“The room we just left was the lobby.” Michelle stated. “And these doors lead off into just a few of the hundreds of dormitories in the Underground.”

“Do all your members live here?” Mikey asked.

“No, not all of them, though quite a few do. About... four, five hundred have their own homes and just visit when they get the chance or get called in.”

At the end of the hall, a spoke-like clearing stood as a four-way intersection between two colliding paths. Katie and Michelle took a sharp right and the five men followed close behind, fearful of becoming lost in the labyrinth of eerily identical corridors.

“Ever gotten lost in here?” Ray asked Katie.

“More times than I can count.” she admitted. “They eventually figured out it would be a good idea to hand out maps.”

“Do we get one?”

“They have a stock in the medical wing, plus some brochures.”

“You guys have brochures? For what?”

“There's a lot of stuff that goes on in the Silent Underground. It's good to know about upcoming events and such.”

Up ahead, they could see a door marked with a red cross at the end of the hall. Underneath, the word 'Infirmary' was printed in bold black font, contrasting visibly with the translucent glass behind it.

“When you say 'short' tour, you sure mean short.” Gerard commented.

“Oh, there's a lot more to show you guys.” Michelle said. “We just don't want you passing out from blood loss and ruining it for the rest of your friends.”

“Now I feel like a burden.”

“Chya, whatever. I'm sure everyone's really pissed.”

“I know I am.” Frank muttered sarcastically.

“C'mon.” She beckoned them towards the door. “We'll introduce you to the medical staff.”

The group followed her into the infirmary, with Bob shutting the door behind them. They were immediately immersed in another wash of sterilized light, though this one not as blinding as that of the elevator. The light revealed the interior of the wide-spreading medical wing, which Gerard instantly realized was far from the ordinary hospital.

Nearly ever fixture in the white-painted room was pitch black, including everything from the cabinets to the bedspreads. The floor and the trim on the walls was made of the same black tile as the hall into the Silent Underground. Vases of vermilion roses were set out across the room, their color matching with some of the various odds and ends scattered about. Only the three doctors, two men and a woman stationed in the center of the room, truly stood out against the coal setting, their intensely white lab coats defined by the dark outline behind them. They turned as the door closed, smiling warmly in greeting.

“Well, hello there.” the woman said. She was shorter than the men around her, though it was easy to tell she was tall for her gender. Her sweeping blonde hair was combed over almost entirely to the right side of her head, with only a small, pink-tipped lock hanging down over her left ear. Calculating slate eyes stared out from behind the pair of rimless reading glasses that rested on her nose, watching the newcomers with mild interest.

“Hey, Kelly.” Michelle said in reply. She stepped forward. “As you can probably see, we brought some friends for you to meet.”

“Lovely.” Kelly beamed.

“Let's make some introduction, shall we?” Katie asked rhetorically. She motioned to Kelly.

“Everybody, this is Kelly Heimdall. She's head of staff here at the Silent Underground Infirmary.”

“Pleasure to meet you.”

Katie turned to the man on Kelly's left. He tossed his head to the side, shaking the short series of bleached blonde curls that grew over his scalp. “And this is her fiance, Ken Ordair, SU's chief surgeon.”

“Hello.” he said, giving a brief nod. Even speaking only one word, they could detect his rich British accent.

“And the third wheel over there is Tobias.” Kelly finished for her, jerking a thumb at the second man. He chuckled to himself.

Looking between Frank and Tobias, Katie could have sworn the two were brothers. They had nearly identical facial structures and both had the same set of sunken eyes, as well as an eerily similar hair style and color. Tattoos covered every inch of Tobias' visible skin, all the way from the palms of his hands to his elbow, where his arms disappeared under the lab coat. They ended at his neck, where a thin, barbed wire marking formed a permanent chocker around his throat.

“Who's this you've got with you?” Kelly asked, schoolgirl curiosity evident in her voice.

Katie introduced the five men in order. Tobias gave Frank a strange look when she got to him at the end, staring at him as if he were looking into a mirror without knowing it.

“Gerard and Ray need some medical attention, so they'll be staying here.” She turned around to face the others. “You guys are free to check out the underground in the meantime.”

Bob shrugged. “Okay.”

“Should we like, get maps or something?” asked Frank.

Ken stepped over to a short filing cabinet by the wall and drew out three maps, then handed them to Bob, Frank, and Mikey in turn. “These were printed out a week ago, so they should be pretty up-to-date.”

“Thanks,” Mikey started, sliding the folded paper into his pocket, “but if it's alright with you, would you mind me staying here with Ray and Gerard?”

“Feel free.” Kelly replied.

“Sounds kind of boring...” Frank murmured, already inching towards the door.

“If Mikey's staying here, the rest of us can go get a room for you five.” Michelle noted. “We'll get one nearby so we can keep in touch.”

“How long do you think this is gonna take?” Gerard asked dubiously.

“I don't know. We'd need Kelly's professional opinion on that.”

“I'll call you when their fixed up.” Kelly assured her. “You still have the same phone in your room, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Then it's settled.”

Ray, Gerard, and Mikey broke off from the rest of the group, moving further into the room. The other four made for the door, waving and saying their goodbyes as they moved.

When they were outside the infirmary, Frank turned to Michelle with a dazed look on his face.

“Woah, that Tobias guy...”

“Freaky, isn't it?” she said.

“Never knew I had an identical twin.”

Katie laughed. “Just 'cause you look alike doesn't mean you're anything like each other.”

“Meaning...”

“Tobias is pretty much the most introverted guy I've ever met. Unlike somebody I know.”

Frank shrugged. “Still scary as hell.”

~*~


Far away, in the dark depths of Otherworld, Kendra watched the events in the Silent Underground unfold. She sat enthroned atop the skulls of her fallen enemies, watching the crystal mirror on the floor below with an anxious eye. Her clawed, skeletal hands gripped the edge of her seat with an agonizingly tight grasp, turning the already ashen skin of her knuckles to a sickly white. Her hollow eyes stared out across the looking glass, observing every move her targets made in their new 'sanctuary'.

Idiots, she thought with sick pleasure. They've exposed the only resistance that might have remained to stand a chance against us. Pathetic.

Though she could not hear what they said, she was able to pick up the gist of their conversations through the movement of their lips. It was more than enough to tell her what she needed to know.

The sound of beating wings caught Kendra's ears and she turned in time to see a small, bat-like creature flutter in through the chamber's wide open windows. It descended down to the stone floor of the throne room, its pale body flailing pitifully.

Kendra sighed. “Why do you embarrass yourself, Shara?”

Stumbling to its feet, the creature stammered, “A-apologies, Lady Kendra. I do not mean to disturb your thoughts.”

“It's alright, Shara. You are forgiven.”

“M'lady, I bring terrible news.”

“I know.” she said, stopping him. “I've already seen it.”

“I wish I could have done more, but -”

“Do not feel like you must explain yourself to me, Shara. I trust you more than any other under my command.”

“I am truly honored, my liege.” Shara said, bowing low.

“So,” Kendra started. “this leaves us with something of a predicament.”

“Yes,” the lesser demon agreed. “They are all still alive and well.”

“We should fix that... shouldn't we?”

“Of course, excellency. Say and it shall be done.”

“I admire your valiance, Shara, but this idea I have been concocting will require a little more... finesse... than your usual missions. That is why you will not be taking part in it.”

“M'lady?”

“Tell me, Shara,” Kendra began, rising from her throne. She strutted down the encircling steps, her spiked boots scratching against the stone with a haunting shriek. “how does one destroy a body? Take a life?”

“Well, with all due respect, my liege, there are many. Far too many for either you or I to count. But the act itself is very simple.”

“Correct. Then tell me, Shara... how does one destroy a heart?”

Shara paused. “Do you mean... metaphorically, or physically...?”

“Heart as in soul, as in the very life force of a living being. The very heart which drives every emotion too complex for the senses to observe or the brain to process. That heart.”

“O-of course.” Shara stopped for a second. His beady black eyes stared up at Kendra, openly displaying his stupefied state.

“Well?”

“You... you cannot. Not by normal means, at least. To destroy the heart, one must dismantle it completely. But, it must be done though unorthodox means. Ways which cannot simply be learned or taught. In short, only the heart can kill the heart.”

“Shara, I had no idea you were so poetic.” Kendra said, a genuine smile playing over her lips.

The little demon blushed, his cheeks flushing an inhuman orchid. “It is only the truth.”

“Then if what you say is true, how exactly do you suggest we 'dismantle' this heart?”

Shara's gaze fell on the mirror set against the floor. His eyes blazed with hatred as he recognized the people who had brought him the shame of defeat, moving about without a thought that they were being watched.

“We tear it apart.” the demon hissed. “The hearts of the compassionate are easy to break.”

“Precisely,” Kendra crooned, “which is why destroying this final resistance will be child's play.”

~*~


Gerard sat on the end of the exam table, his legs dangling over the edge and hanging above the floor below. He waited patiently as Kelly sifted through the room's many cabinets and drawers, searching for the antiseptic she'd misplaced. His mind wandering, Gerard started taking mental inventory on all the injuries he'd suffered in the past few days.

First, he though, there was the icon. The hair on the back of his neck still stood on end whenever he remembered it. Then, whatever that thing was that happened to my hand. Right after that, it was the cut across the back... He almost laughed when he thought about that one. To think of how Michelle's attitude towards him had changed so drastically in little more than a day still amazed him. Next, she shot me in the leg. Again, Gerard had to fight to keep from chuckling. What she did at the hospital was practically cold-blooded, one side of him argued. Still, he could hardly blame her. He knew from experience how biased some hunters could become to other races. And last but not least, he thought grimly, the good ol' shoulder wound.

Wow. When you put it in perspective, that really is a lot of crap in forty-eight hours.

“Here we are.” Kelly muttered from across the room. She drew a bottle of peroxide from a cabinet on the far side of the room while her other hand grabbed a small jar of cotton balls from the shelf below. Making her way back over to the exam table, she set the jar down on the nearby stand and took out one of the downy wads. She tipped the now opened bottle gently onto the cotton and pulled it back just as quickly as the alcohol breached the rim and began pouring out.

“Where should we start?” asked Kelly, taking a step back to look at him.

Gerard gave a small shrug, then flinched as the wound in his shoulder acted up.

“Alright, then. Shoulder it is.”

Kelly lifted the sleeve of Gerard's t-shirt to see the injury below. The wound had closed up slightly in the last few hours, but it had taken on an unhealthy greenish tinge that bothered her.

“Mind taking your shirt off?” she asked, adjusting the glasses on her nose to a more effective position.

Gerard hesitated for a second, then lifted his shirt off slowly, being careful not to pull at the bandage on his back.

“Wow.” Kelly breathed as she saw the gauze that was wrapped around his torso. “How long ago did that happen?”

“Day and a half, maybe two.” replied Gerard.

Kelly moved around to the other side of the table. He felt her fingers lift the bandage and poke at the cut gently, feeling for any weaknesses in the repair. “Whoever stitched you up did a good job of it.” she noted.

“Yeah.”

She made her way back to the front of the table. Setting the peroxide bottle on the stand, she motioned for Gerard to lay down. He took a sharp breath as his back pressed against the cold steel surface, almost crying out as he put pressure on his upper back. Then he remembered something. She didn't say anything about the icon, Gerard thought suddenly. Wouldn't she have seen it?

Gerard winced as Kelly pressed the alcohol-soaked cotton ball against the flesh of his shoulder, sending a stinging pain through his entire right arm.

“Sorry.” she mumbled.

He clenched his teeth when he felt the first bite of the needle against his skin as she began to sew up the wound. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her arm moving up and down as she tugged the string to tighten it. It's for the better, he told himself. It would only have gotten worse otherwise. When she'd finished, she taped another bandage down over the newly sealed injury.

“That should keep you for a few hours.” Kelly noted. “Next?”

“I got shot in the leg, if you want to take a look at that.”

“Is the bullet still in there?”

“It was more of a graze. I'm pretty sure it missed the bone.”

Kelly moved down the table to his knees, where she saw a small patch of blood on the outside of his black jeans. She rolled the leg of his pants up slightly above the knee, causing Gerard to grimace as the hem pulled at his frayed flesh.

“You, Gerard, are one lucky guy.” Kelly murmured as she rubbed a fresh cotton ball on the bullet hole. “Most people who go through this much would be dead three times over.”

“Guess I have a guardian angel.”

“More like twenty.” she laughed.

When she finished sewing up his leg, Kelly replaced the bandage on Gerard's back with a clean one and was about to send him out the door when he stopped her.

“Kelly,” he started, still unsure how to put it. “Did you by chance... see the thing on... on my back?”

“You mean the icon?” she asked warily. “Hard to miss it.”

“Look, I just want you to know -”

Kelly held up a hand. “It's none of my business. Besides, I already know you're not a vampire.”

“You do?”

“Well, for starters, vampires don't bleed. At least, not that much. Plus, check that out.” She pointed to a mirror in the corner of the room, where he saw the image of Kelly and himself refracted by the crystalline surface. “If I'm right, that right there looks like a reflection So, unless you happen to be a hemophiliac vampire endowed with a soul, I'm willing to bet you're human. ”

Gerard smiled. “Well, when you put it that way, I can't help but agree. Thanks.”

“No problem.”

“Be seeing you around?” he said, picking up his shirt from the exam table and pulling it on over his head.

“With as accident prone as you are, most likely.” she replied.

Gerard smiled back as he opened the door and stepped out into the waiting room.

~*~


Mikey looked up from the magazine he was reading as the door to the exam room opened wide. Gerard came out a split second later, giving his brother a curt nod.

“So…” Mikey started cautiously.

Gerard gave a thumbs up. “She’s seems pretty sure most of it will be healed in a couple days.”

“That’s awesome.” He set the periodical down on the adjacent table.

“Where’s Ray?” Gerard asked after a quick glance around.

“Tobias had him fixed up in a few minutes. That guy’s insanely fast.”

“Seems kind of strange, doesn’t he?” said Gerard, dropping his voice to a whisper.

“This coming from you?” Mikey laughed.

“Yeah, I guess…”

“You should just be happy that everybody’s okay.”

“Suppose I should stop trying to find a downside to everything.”

“That’s the spirit.” said Mikey as he rose from the chair. “Now come on; we have to find out where we’re staying tonight.”








Chapter Nineteen


The clock on the wall read '6:46 PM' when Melody and Daniel stepped off the subway car and into the Silent Underground. At this time of night, the terminal was filled with inhabitants waiting to board, a crowd enlarged even further by the tide that seethed off of the arriving train. Melody clung tightly to Daniel’s hand to keep from getting separated, knowing that in a room this large, she could easily lose him and never find her way back. They made their way through the thickening crowd, with Daniel leading the way towards his intended destination.

“Do you really think she can help with this?” Melody asked uncertainly over the roar of the multitude around them.

“Trisha knows this sort of stuff.” Daniel reassured her. “If anybody can help you, it’ll be her.”

Melody didn’t smile openly, but inside she was glowing. She would give anything to treat the curse she’d been afflicted with, and knowing that there was someone who could do just that made her feel as though her life had meaning again. She could stop now. She wouldn’t have to hurt anyone else.

They reached the edge of the terminal, where a series of elevators waited to take patrons to their various destinations.

“What floor’s she on?” inquired Melody.

“First. She lives pretty close to the main lobby.”

Melody and Daniel made it to the hall in front of Trisha’s room easily and with little disruption, even though it was one of the busiest times of the day. In a place this large with only two thousand people, that usually meant seeing as many as four to five people in the same hallway at the same time. When they reached Trisha’s room, they found the door already ajar.

“Should we just go in?” Melody asked.

“Why not?” Daniel replied rhetorically. “She won’t mind.” They walked in together, immediately coming face-to-face with the large group filling the center of the room.

Daniel recognized Katie and Michelle right away, standing near the front of the cluster and talking casually. The others, however, were complete strangers. There were five of them, all men, and they all seemed to be deep in conversation. They turned when they heard the door shut, some of them looking surprised while a few just smiled politely.

“Hey Daniel.” Michelle greeted when she caught sight of him. “Long time no see.”

“Likewise.” replied Daniel. He looked warily at the five men around her.

Michelle seemed to recognize his confusion. “Oh, right. Danny, I’d like you to meet a few new friends of ours.” She pointed to the dark-haired man on her right. “This is Gerard -“ Then she indicated the younger-looking man next to him. “- and his brother, Mikey.” They both acknowledged Daniel with a smile, then went back to their conversation.

“Ray Toro -“ Michelle nodded towards the tallest man who stood in the center of the group. He gave a casual wave. “- and Bob Bryar.” The blonde man next to Ray looked up for a second, then turned away again.

“And…” Michelle started to stay something, but she stopped herself. “Wait, where’d Frank go?” The four men looked around, slightly startled by the disappearance of their fifth.

“He was here a second ago.” Ray replied.

Daniel knew he was right; there had been seven people before, and now there were only six.

“He better not have gone to the food court without telling us again.” Mikey muttered. “I swear, that guy can put away three times his body weight in one sitting.”

“I’m not going looking for him again.” Katie protested. “I’ve already spent an hour today doing just that and I’m not about to do it again.”

“Take it easy, Michelle.” The fifth man they’d referred to as Frank emerged from the bathroom, pushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. “You’re starting to sound like you’d actually care if I went missing.”

“Like hell.” she shot back, smiling.

“Where’s Trisha?” Daniel asked, changing the subject abruptly.

All seven went quiet suddenly, just looking back and forth between each other. They were all apprehensive to reply, and it was Gerard who finally spoke up. “She was injured in a car accident. It was near Sycamore. You might have heard something about it…”

Melody shook her head. “We’ve been traveling across the country all day.” she said, speaking for the first time.

“Is she alright?” Daniel asked worriedly.

“She was alive, if that means anything.” Katie replied. “She had to be taken to a hospital. We couldn’t have gotten here fast enough.”

“Do you think she’s gonna pull through?”

“Are you kidding? It’d take a hell of a lot more than a car crash to kill Trisha.”

Daniel bit his lip. “I guess you’re right.”

“And who’s this you’ve got with you?” Katie asked, motioning to Melody.

“I’m Melody.” She stammered slightly, but Daniel thought she seemed pretty confident in herself. He was glad she wasn’t as nervous as he’d been when he first came here.

“Nice to meet you, Melody.” Katie stepped forward to shake her hand. “I’m Katie.”

“And as you might have heard,” the second woman started, “my name’s Michelle.”

Melody shook Katie’s hand with a firm grip. “It’s great to meet all of you,” she said, directing her words to the entire group.

“We came down this way to see if we could find Melody a place to stay for a few nights.” Daniel added. “Do you think she could bunk with you two while Trisha’s gone?”

Michelle shrugged. “Sure. Don’t see why not.”

Melody smiled. “Thank you.”

“No problem. Just let us know if you need anything.”

“Shall we leave you three to get acquainted?” Daniel asked, gesturing towards the five other men.

“Whatever. And I think there’s a concert gonna start at seven in the auditorium. You guys should check it out.” Katie said.

“Sweet.” Frank smiled. “Are they local bands?”

“Yeah. They rule.”

“Then what are we waiting for? It’s already six fifty-three. Let’s go.”

The six men were gone in a matter of seconds, leaving the three women alone in the dormitory.

“They’re easily persuaded.” Michelle laughed.
“Yeah,” Katie muttered. “Why couldn’t we get rid of them that easy earlier today?”

~*~


The concert ended at a quarter past ten, much to the disappointment of the excited crowd. Katie had been right; the bands were incredible. They were better than a lot of professional groups, thought Mikey. I’m surprised I hadn’t heard of them before. The crowd filed out through the auditorium’s main doors, chatting happily as if they could stay up all night. The six men stayed close together to avoid from getting lost in the tumoltuos mob.

Over the course of the last three hours, Mikey, Frank, Bob, Gerard, and Ray had quickly become friends with Daniel, who seemed more and more like them with each passing minute. The only discernible difference between them were their knowledges of the supernatural world. While the five had learned all they knew from books and records, Daniel's membership with the Silent Underground had provided him with unlimited opportunities to learn straight from others who had experienced the events first-hand. However, that didn't create much of a rift in personalities.

“Hey, you guys wanna stop somewhere and get coffee?” Daniel asked as they exited the main theater.

“Sure.” Frank complied. “No sense in not pumping your body full of caffeine two hours from midnight.”

“I'll pass.” said Mikey. “If it's alright with you guys, I'm gonna turn in for the night.”

“What?” Gerard asked, looking shocked. “You're turning down coffee and you're going to bed at ten fifteen? Are you feeling okay?”

His brother shrugged. “Just a little tired. I feel fine.”

“Okay, but... this just seems really weird.”

“Trust me, I know.” Mikey shook his head. “You have no idea how bad this is gonna mess with my internal clock.”

Frank was about to say something, but he remembered what he'd been doing last night. Both he and Mikey had been up for nearly two hours talking, which he could easily imagine wearing away at his friend's already fragile sleeping state that was the result of his constant nightmares.

“Just don't wake up at six and expect us to join you.” Ray warned.

Mikey smiled. “I'll try to remember that.” He waved goodbye as he walked away from the rest of the group.

“Um, does he have a map?” Daniel asked suddenly.

The other four just stared at him.

“Wow.” Frank mumbled, breaking the brief silence. “He's screwed.”

~*~


Damn it, Mikey thought angrily. This place didn't seem as big on the outside. He was willing to admit he was lost by now. He'd been wandering around the Silent Underground for nearly an hour and had yet to come across anything that looked vaguely familiar. He had considered asking directions near the beginning of the sixty minute time frame, but he'd been stubborn, telling himself he could find the way on his own. Now, there was nobody in the halls. The entire complex seemed to have shut down. It had only been on the hours that this place seemed busy before, but eleven o'clock had come and gone and still he'd seen no one. He cursed himself for leaving his map in the room, for thinking he didn't need it.

The watch on his arm now read '11:08 PM.' Fifty-three minutes. Fifty-three minutes his stupid arrogance had wasted.

Mikey yawned. To tell the truth, he hadn't been very tired at the end of the concert. And he hadn't felt fine, either. His head had been aching for about two hours now. He didn't know if it was a result of the pounding music or the screaming crowd, or something completely different, but it was killing him and it had taken every ounce of his strength to mask the pain from his friends.

Why? He asked himself. Why couldn't you tell them?

Because, the logical side of him retaliated, Gerard's overprotective. With as bad as you've been sleeping these last few days, he'll think you're sick or something.

So he cares? What's wrong with that?

If he cares, he's going to ask questions. He's going to ask you about your dreams. You know you can't tell him about your dreams.

Mikey stopped. His legs had frozen in place.

But the dreams... they're not -

They are. They're coming true. How else can you explain them after you heard Frank's story?

It... it was just a coincidence.

No, it wasn't.

He started walking again, this time quicker than before. As if, if he moved fast enough, he could get away from himself.

But it's over, isn't it? Now that he told me?

It's going to be different. It's going to be worse. You'll see.

Mikey shuddered. He didn't want to think about it. He just wanted to make that little voice in the back of his head shut up, but he needed something to take his mind off things. Something... His hope soared. As he rounded the corner of the corridor, he found himself staring out into the main lobby.

It didn't take long for Mikey to make it back to the dormitory now. He didn't need to ask directions from the few lingering people in the reception area. Now that he could retrace his path, he knew for certain the route he had to take, and in less than five minutes, he found himself standing in front of the chamber's door.

It was 11:14 now. As he stepped into the room, he found Gerard, Ray, and Bob already asleep, while Frank's bed lay unmade and empty, with a small handwritten note lying on top of the sheets. Mikey walked over and picked it up, reading it with difficulty in the half light given by the open doorway.


Bored as hell. Went out to find something to do. If you need me, I've got my phone.
- Frank



Mikey set the note back down and made his way over to his own bed. It was still neatly kept and orderly. He sometimes felt bad about messing things up that looked so perfectly tidy, but tonight he was exhausted and didn't care. He dropped down onto the sheets, not bothering to change out of his jeans and t-shirt. It wasn't like he had any other clothes with him.

It was already warm in the room, so Mikey didn't bother getting under the covers. Instead, he simply lay there on top of the bedspread, staring up at the ceiling for a few minutes before his eyelids started to droop. His hands folded peacefully over his chest, he waited patiently as he drifted off to sleep, praying that this might finally be the night his nightmares abandoned him.








Chapter Twenty


Mikey's eyes flickered open slowly. There was no light to greet them; no familiar glow of a lamp, no dancing candlelight. Only darkness. Pure, untainted darkness. But something seemed out of place. He checked the watch on his wrist, fingers pressing the illumination button so he could see the digital display.

It read '3:17 AM'.

He sighed and fell backwards on the pillows. Four hours of sleep. That's all he'd managed to get. But somehow... he still felt rested. Why? He ran over the question in his head for what felt like an eternity, then something clicked.

The nightmares. They didn't come.

Mikey sat bolt upright and almost laughed with joy, but he controlled himself, remembering that his friends were still sleeping. Well, most of them at least. He wasn't sure about Frank. It wouldn't have surprised him if he still hadn't come back yet.

Having not had a good night's sleep in days, Mikey felt strange having actually rested. The feeling was weird. Almost... surreal.

Overreacting a little, aren't we? he thought to himself. Normal people have dreamless nights all the time.

But we're not normal. Not normal at all.

Sitting there in the dark, with nothing more than his own thoughts to keep him company, a sudden sense of loneliness overcame Mikey. It was an emotion he didn't feel very often. His brother and his friends were always around, always there for him to talk to. They still were, but the sinking feeling in his stomach made him doubtful. Were they there? He couldn't hear their breathing; they were so quiet. He had to see if they were still there. He had to know for sure.

Leaning to his right, Mikey felt around the bedside table for the neck of the lamp he remembered was sitting there. Once he turned the light on, once he saw they were safe, he could sleep again. He'd know everything was how it was supposed to be. His fingers closed around the small lever underneath the lampshade. With a smile, he lifted his thumb and flicked the switch.

Mikey fought to contain a scream as he caught sight of the two looming figures standing on either side of his bed. The light from the lamp failed to completely reveal their faces, instead exposing only their dark cloaked bodies and skeletal hands. Their breathing was calm and emotionless, and as he looked up into what he knew were their eyes, he saw nothing but hollow sockets. Looking about frantically, Mikey saw that more of those creatures were standing next to his friend's beds as well, their vacant gazes watching them with disturbing calm.

He made a move to jump out of bed, but the apparitions seized him by the arms and held him down to the mattress, their rigid hands gripping him like ice. He tried to kick at them, but they held his legs still as easily as they had his hands. Now he was completely pinned down.

“Gerard!” Mikey yelled.

Gerard didn't move an inch. All four of his friends were still sound asleep in their beds, completely oblivious to what was taking place.

“Bob! Ray! Frank! Wake up!!!”

Nothing.

“Let go of me!” Mikey cried at the wraiths holding him down. He thrashed as hard as he could, but the creatures had him nearly immobile from the neck down.

Right before Mikey's eyes, five more of the ghastly creatures rose from the foot of the beds. Their long, bony fingers were enveloped in the folds of the billowing black robes draped around their bodies,but he could still see the end of the rifle clutched in the demon's hand.

“Wake up!!!” he screamed again.

Mikey could only watch in horror as the phantom standing next to Frank's bed stepped forward, its spectral form gliding over the ground easily to the very edge of the mattress. The two surrounding him lifted him up out of the sheets and into the air by his shoulders, propping him up helplessly against the headboard. Still, he didn't wake up.

“Frank! Frank!!!” Mikey was shouting at the top of his lungs now. He tried desperately to pry himself from the grasp of the monstrosities that held him to the bed, in a vain attempt to somehow save his friend, but the creatures would not allow it. It wouldn't have helped anyway. Mikey knew what was going to happen; he just prayed he was wrong.

Without a sound, the specter at the foot of Frank's bed drew its hand out of the surrounding robes, revealing the glistening metal of the rifle in its grip.

“No!!!” Mikey refused to give up. “Frank!!! Frank, wake up!!!”

It was no use.

The demon raised the gun, not distracted by Mikey's futile efforts. It pressed the barrel against Frank's chest, aiming the lethal weapon directly at his heart.

“No...” Mikey moaned, and before he could say another word -

Boom.

The sound of the shot seemed almost imaginary, as though it were impossible. That it could never happen. Time seemed to stop for the briefest moment, and in that fragile second, Mikey knew what was coming.

Blood exploded from Frank's chest, spraying over the headboard and onto the bedsheets. The shell tore a hole clean through his body, splattering the surrounding walls with guts and ichor. His eyes shot open instantly, displaying a look of unabashed pain and fear as he took one final, failing breath before he slid down lifelessly onto the mattress.

Mikey couldn't speak. What little voice he had left had lodged like a clot in his throat. Terror, nausea, misery, and hatred were raging through his head like a hurricane, but horrified surprise prevented him from acting. He couldn't look away. His eyes were fixed on the body of one of the greatest friends he'd ever known, now torn to pieces by ruthless execution.

“YOU SON OF A b***h!!!” Mikey bellowed at the creature, blind anger overcoming his shock. The wraith turned its head casually, regarding him as little more than a nuisance.

“I'M GOING TO TEAR YOU TO PIECES, YOU MURDERING b*****d!!!”

The creature stood still for a second, then slipped back down through the floor quietly, completely ignoring Mikey in his state of hysteria.

It took Mikey a second to realize what was happening now. Overwrought with grief, he hadn't seen the phantom by Ray's bed draw closer. Now, he could only watch with terror as it drew its own weapon out and placed it against Ray's temple.

“RAY!!!” Mikey howled. Tears were cutting wide arcs down the sides of his face as he lashed out against his captors. He was already wearing down and he could feel fatigue begin to sweep through his body. But his mind was wide awake.

“Ray, get up!!! FIGHT THEM!!!”


Boom.

“RAY!!!” Mikey had to look away in disgust as the shot tore through Ray's skull. He knew what it would look like, and in his state of anxiety, the last thing he needed to see was his friend's brains plastered over the dry wall.

Mikey could feel bile rising in his throat. Why he hadn't thrown up yet, he didn't know. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the second wraith phase down through the floor at its feet.

“Coward!!!” he screamed, his head jerking up from the sheets. He caught sight of what remained of Ray's head and fell backwards almost instantaneously. His breathing was frantic now. The truth hadn't completely set in yet. He couldn't process it all. Two of his friends were dead already, and the demons weren't done yet.

The creatures beside Bob's bed lifted him off the mattress and propped him against the headboard. Mikey knew this grisly process by now and he knew what was about to happen.

“BOB!!! WAKE UP!!!” Mikey shouted pleadingly. He knew it was no use. And as the specter raised its rifle to Bob's stomach, he forced himself to look away.

Boom.

No... no... no... Mikey begged, his thoughts consumed by horror. This can't be happening... It can't...

The third demon slid back down into the floor, its horrendous deed now done. Mikey could barely breathe. And the entire time, only one short, hideous phrase loomed in his head.

Three down, two to go.

The smell of blood and viscera now engulfed the entire room. The repulsion in Mikey's gut was almost unbearable. He could barely speak as the creatures around Gerard's bed closed in.

“Gerard...” Mikey managed weakly. His throat was hoarse from screaming and he was dizzy with grief, and no matter how hard as tried, he couldn't force another word from his mouth. Instead, he was forced to watch as the wraith that hovered over Gerard pressed its weapon against his neck.

I can't help him, Mikey thought hopelessly. He's dying and I can't even help him. I couldn't help any of them. They'll all have died alone because of me.

He couldn't tear his eyes away from his brother. Gerard would be the last living person Mikey would ever see. If it had happened any other way, if they would have died doing the right thing, or doing something they'd be proud of, maybe it would have been alright. Maybe even made him feel better. But not now; not in this room, not at this second, not like this. None of them deserved to die like this, Mikey told himself. They deserved so much more.

Boom.

The shot sounded muffled in Mikey's ears. He didn't watch as the shell left the barrel. He didn't watch as it ripped into Gerard's neck, severing his spine on impact. He didn't even watch as his brother's eyes opened for the final time, fated to reveal nothing more than the pale mists of death.

Mikey was silent. The tears had stopped by now. He had torn his vocal cords to pieces. Now, he could only sit and wait as the apparition before him withdrew its own weapon and raised it level with Mikey's eyes.

He wasn't afraid. Fear had passed quickly. Mikey knew what was going to happen; there was no denying it. Instead, Mikey did something he hadn't done for a long time. He prayed.

Mikey didn't shed another tear. He didn't try to escape. He didn't speak a word in protest as the demon pulled the trigger.

Offline
Chapters 21-24


Chapter Twenty-One


Mikey awoke with a tremendous start, his momentum launching him off the bed and onto the hard wood floor below. His breathing was frantic and labored, and as he tried to rise from the paneled ground, he felt it in his throat. That nausea that had eluded him in his nightmares had returned.

Holding a trembling hand over his mouth, Mikey sprinted through the darkness towards the bathroom door, his bare feet stumbling drunkenly beneath him. When he'd reached the other side of the room, he collapsed weakly against the doorway, his legs threatening to give way. His free hand grasped the door handle limply and forced it open, allowing him to throw himself into the adjacent room with as much strength as his terror-weakened body could muster.

Mikey had barely made it a foot inside the bathroom when the sensation in his throat rose again with another sickening jolt. He hardly had time to make it to the toilet bowl before the nausea became too much and he threw up.

Head hanging low over the rim, Mikey shook with anxiety. Sweat poured down the sides of his head and into the creases of his face, where it pooled then dropped into the basin below.

It couldn't have happened, Mikey thought desperately, his body twitching convulsively. It just couldn't.

Feeling another wave coming, he bent down lower, only to have a dry cough escape his throat. His stomach felt like it was on fire, but he hardly noticed. He was only thinking of one thing. Are they alright?

“Mikey?”

Mikey turned slowly, struggling to maintain control over his frayed nerves. His bloodshot eyes fell upon Gerard standing in the doorway, his eyes filled with concern.

“Gerard...” Mikey started. He knew what he must have looked like to his brother. His legs crumpled, barely supporting his quivering frame, and his face sickly and pale. Saliva and what tasted like blood trickled down his chapped lips.

“s**t... Mikey.” Gerard bent down on his knees to level himself with his brother. He reached out to put a palm on Mikey's forehead, only to retract almost instantly as he felt the icy surface of his skin.

For a second neither of them said anything. They just stared at each other, their eyes displaying the conflicting emotions of relief and anguish. Then, without warning, Mikey threw his arms around his brother, holding him so tightly that he could barely breathe. Gerard could feel warm tears soaking into the collar of his shirt.

“I-I can't lose you.” Mikey mumbled into his brother's neck. “I can't lose you...”

“Mikey... Mikey, what happened?” Gerard asked sincerely.

Mikey shook his head. “T-there's something wrong with me.” he sobbed, his arms squeezing Gerard even tighter. “Help me.”

Gerard saw the confusion and fear in Mikey's pleading eyes. He had never seen his brother so scared.

“It's going to be okay.” he whispered calmingly, not sure if he believed the words himself. He didn't even know what had done this to Mikey, but he sure as hell wasn't going to stop until he found out.

The images of Mikey's nightmares struck him again like a sledgehammer. Not only that, but the realization of what had happened after his last dream returned as well. What Frank had told him...

“No it's not.” he moaned. “Help me, Gerard. I can't go through it twice.”

“Go through what?”

Mikey looked up at his brother through tear-soaked eyes. “I can't watch you die again.”

~*~


“We don't know what's wrong with him.” Kelly told the rest of the group around her as she stepped out of the examination room. It was 5:28 in the morning, and Gerard, Bob, Ray, Frank, Michelle, Katie, Daniel, and Melody were all gathered in the center of the waiting room in the medical wing They had been waiting anxiously for the verdict.

“But... you can help him, right?” Gerard asked fearfully.

Kelly sighed. “Ken and Tobias are busy looking for the most efficient way to analyze his brain waves. They're... abnormal, to say the least.”

“You think this could have been related to his dreams somehow?” Frank asked cautiously. “He'd been sleeping right before it happened.”

“It's a plausible idea. Ray, you said he's been having some trouble sleeping recently?”

“Yeah,” Ray said, nodding, “but never this bad. He'd wake up two or three times in the middle of the night, but he'd always go right back to bed.”

“Does Mikey have any history of insomnia that you're aware of? Or perhaps paranoia?”

“Kelly...” Michelle began, “isn't it possible that maybe whatever's happening to Mikey... isn't some sort of medical condition?”

She looked doubtful. “You mean like a parasite? A demon?”

“Yeah.”

“That's quite an allegation to make with such little evidence.”

“I'm just saying that, well, you of all people should know that science can't explain everything. Especially with what's been going on recently.”

“I'll definitely look into it, but for now, we're going to keep Mikey under medication to suppress his subconscious activity. If this was caused by some kind of dream, the drugs should be enough to block it.”

“And if they don't work?”

“Then either a) the panic attack was triggered by something other than his nightmares, or b) we have a much more serious issue at hand.”

“How can you know this won't happen again?” Gerard demanded.

“We don't.” Kelly answered simply. “We can't prevent anything until we first know what his condition is. Once it's been diagnosed, we can get to work on blocking it.”

“Do you think it's dangerous?” Bob asked, speaking for what seemed like the first time all night.

“Though he does seem slightly weakened, I don't think that it's much of a danger to him physically. His mental health, however, we're not so sure.” Kelly paused. “His stress levels are incredibly high for an average individual and he appears to be experiencing low-grade schizophrenia.”

Bob glanced over at Gerard and saw him take a deep breath. His first thought was to feel bad for having asked the question, but he knew it wasn't his own fault. Someone would have brought it up eventually; it was inevitable.

“We're going to keep him here for a while,” Kelly continued. “We'll monitor his brain activity and try to match it to an existing condition. If we can't match it, then we'll know...”

Michelle nodded in understanding.

The talking continued for ten minutes before Bob decided to leave. Awkward words were exchanged between friends as they tried to take their minds off the dark events unfolding around them. Bob was the only one who didn't carry on the conversation. He stood near the back of the group, casually glancing at the clock and waiting for them to be done. It wasn't like he didn't care about Mikey. But the nagging feeling at the back of his mind had become a constant barrage.

It had started when he had first woken up to Gerard's panicked shouts from the bathroom. He had been right there when it happened, and had worked with Ray to carry Mikey down to the medical wing. At first, the sense had been nothing more than a dull buzzing in the back of his head - something easily dismissed as a headache. But over the last half an hour, the pain had grown to excruciating levels. Soon, he found himself unable to tolerate it and, as quietly as he could manage, he slipped out of the waiting room and into the hallway unnoticed.

~*~


The ringing in Bob's head was incessant now, and as he walked further and further down the corridor to the dormitory, he began to feel increasingly light-headed. At one point, he had to stop and rest against a wall to keep himself from collapsing.

What's going on? Bob thought, his head spinning. Up ahead, he could see the door to their room, but in his eyes, it appeared to be wavering like everything else.

By the time he made it to the archway, the pain felt like it was tearing his head in two. It took every ounce of his self control not to cry out in agony, but he managed to hold on until he'd made it into the room. Then -

“Agh!” Bob yelled, hands holding his throbbing head uselessly. He dropped to the floor of the room, his fingers tearing at his short blonde hair as if that small amount of pain would detract from the stabbing sensation in his brain, but it only got worse. Now, he swore he could taste blood in his mouth.

Gathering as much energy as he had left, Bob staggered up off the floor and onto his feet, then ran as fast as he could towards the bathroom door. It's just a migraine, Bob told himself as the room passed by in a blur around him.

Yeah, the most friggin' painful migraine on the planet.

Seconds away from blacking out, Bob lunged the rest of the way into the bathroom, throwing himself against the sink to try and keep from falling. He had never been in this much pain in his life. The second his feet touched the linoleum floor, though, something strange happened.

Almost instantly, the hemorrhage ceased its constant onslaught. The room to breathe felt imaginary to Bob, and the lack of pain left him feeling somehow empty.

What was that? He thought desperately. He looked back out into the main room, where only seconds before, pain had been tearing through him like a wildfire. Why had it suddenly stopped?

Tentatively, Bob inched towards the threshold of the door. There was no logic behind it, but he had the oddest suspicion that whatever had just happened had something to do with the room. He set his foot outside the door.

Instantly, Bob recoiled at lightning speed as a streak of white hot pain flashed through his head. He fell back against the sink. Sliding to the ground, he stared out into the main room with wary eyes.

There was something wrong out there. He could feel it. But the problem was, it didn't seem like he was the one feeling it. It felt like something inside of him had that sense all its own, and the fear that there might be some other consciousness dwelling in his head terrified him.

You're overreacting, he tried to reassure himself. I'm sure it's nothing. You're probably just... As much as Bob hated to admit it, he couldn't think of a way to explain it. Something was terribly wrong with this situation. Normally, he might have dismissed it as just a freak accident, but after what had happened to Mikey...

“This isn't right.” Bob murmured to himself.

No, not at all, a small voice spoke.

Bob looked up in surprise. He glanced around the room, seeking the source of the sound. “What the hell...” he muttered, finding both the bathroom and the entire next room empty.

Over here.

Bob was feeling disoriented now. He followed the sound of what appeared to be breathing. The noise seemed to be coming from nowhere and everywhere at the same time, and yet, every time he thought he'd pinpointed its origin, it shifted again.

“Is someone there?” he demanded.

Behind you.








Chapter Twenty-Two


Bob spun around and came face to face with the bathroom's wall-length mirror, its crystalline surface emanating his own reflection over its sterile figure. He looked at it intently, searching for some sliver of light that might be escaping from an adjoining room. Maybe it's a two-way mirror... Bob thought hopefully.

“Hello?” he called out, seeing his own reflection mouth the words in synchrony.

What, are you blind?

He turned quickly to his left and right, expecting to see the speaker, but instead, he only saw the empty room.

“Where the hell are you?” he shouted, a little louder than he had wanted.

Right here, genius.

Bob's eyes widened with shock as he looked head on into the mirror. His reflection had just spoken.

Took you long enough, his mirrored self spat. Tch, no wonder they think you're so stupid.

Bob didn't say a word. He just stared at the image in the mirror with apprehension. I'm going insane, aren't I? He thought, his hands trembling on the edge of the sink.

His reflection looked at him grimly for a few seconds. Then he laughed, I see. You think I'm a hallucination, don't you?

He didn't say anything. He just backed away slightly, inching towards the door.

Oh, yeah, great idea. Running away from your problems solves everything -

Bob ignored it and turned to leave.

- especially when the room you're running to nearly tore your head in half.

That stopped him. Bob knew he (he felt strange referring to his own reflection like that) was right. With the way that headache had scarred him, he hardly wanted to go back out there.

“Did you do that?” Bob demanded.

Finally. I thought you were just going to keep ignoring me.

“Did you do that?” he repeated firmly.

His reflection looked offended. Of course not! Why would I want to hurt you? After all – He flashed a malicious grin - we're one in the same.

“No offense,” Bob growled, not caring if it offended his mirrored self or not, “but I don't honestly think I'm that much of an a*****e.”

The figure in the mirror laughed. Suit yourself.

“What do you want?”

His reflection smiled. I just came to help.

“Well, appreciate it, but I don't need any 'help'.”

Sure you don't. At least, not that you know of.

“You think I'm dumb enough to believe that?”

No, but I think you're dumb enough not to.

Bob scowled. “If you think I'm going to just stand here and listen to you insult me -”

That's what you think this is about? His reflection asked with mock sincerity. I take all the time to come to you from Otherworld and this is the kind of reception I get?

“I'm not a big fan of guys like you.”

In case you forgot, we happen to be -

“You know what? Shut it. I don't care if you think you're the same person as me, because I know you're not. Why don't you just slink back to whatever pocket dimension you crawled out of and stay out of my life.”

The man in the mirror looked offended. So you don't want my help?

“Why would I?”

He shook his head. Bob, the Otherworld is very complex. We that dwell within it possess abilities far beyond human limitations and understandings.

“I'm not four.” he muttered, aggravated by his reflection's parent-to-child tone of voice.

I know a lot of things you don't, Bob. Things about your friends that they don't want you to know.

Now Bob was getting pissed. He didn't care if this thing insulted him; that he could take. But he refused to just sit idly by and take crap about his friends.

“We don't keep secrets.”

Ah, of course. That would certainly explain Frank, now wouldn't it?

“Frank has the right to keep his past to himself. If he doesn't want to tell anybody -”

Doesn't want to tell anybody? His reflection laughed. He's told all of them, he lied. First Mikey, then Gerard, then Ray. Now Bob, if I'm not mistaken, I think that leaves you as the only one who doesn't know.

“You're lying.” said Bob, half trying to convince himself.

Am I now? His reflection glared at him. Then tell me, Bob. Where are your friends now?

“What?” Bob asked, not sure what he was hinting at.

It's been twenty minutes since you wandered off from the medical wing and not one of them has come looking for you. They haven't even noticed you're gone.

“O-of course they have.”

Really? Then I guess they just don't care...

“They care.” Bob retaliated. “What's wrong with them putting enough faith in me to let me leave on my own once and a while?”

Denial! His copy coughed into its hand.

“Prove it.”

You're giving me a chance?

“One. Prove to me that they don't care. I dare you.”

His reflection laughed. I'm not one to turn down a dare. Reaching into the inside of his jacket, the man in the mirror drew a pistol out and into the open.

“What are you doing...”

Your friends care about you? Then they'd come to your rescue if they thought you were in danger, right? He aimed the gun squarely at Bob's heart, and before Bob could react, his mirrored self pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunshot exploded in the confined space of the bathroom, echoing through the tiny room and carrying into the apartment beyond. Bob flew back against the wall, driven by the force of the bullet. He gasped for breath and immediately reached up to feel the wound once he came to grips with the situation. However, once he did, he found the site where the hole should be completely unscathed, as if the shot had never been fired.

“What the hell -” Bob started.

One, two, three... his reflection started to count.

Bob's eyes darted to the main room. He listened intently for the sound of footsteps in the next hallway, but nothing came. He didn't understand; the medical wing was only fifty yards from their dormitory. That shot should have sounded as loud as thunder to them.

... fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty. The figure in the mirror gave Bob a miffed look. He tapped his chin with one finger. Huh. Is it just me, or did nobody show up?

“They have to have a good reason -”

Oh, come on! His reflection yelled at him. Don't you get it?!? They don't care what happens to you!

“Yes they do!”

Stubborn son of a – if they cared, then why aren't they here? Why didn't they show up? Did they just not notice you leave? Well, of course they did. I mean, come on, they love you SO MUCH, don't they? But then... wouldn't they come to the rescue? Wouldn't they want to save you?

“They have no way of knowing that the shot came from here.” Bob said, trying to defend his friends.

His reflection rolled its eyes. That doesn't matter. Once they heard it, they must have checked to make sure nobody was missing from their group. That none of them were possibly injured. You know how 'compassionate' Gerard is. He'll be searching this complex top to bottom to find who's injured. He's probably doing that right now. But he's not going to look in here. Why? Because he hasn't even noticed that you're gone!

Bob shook his head. “You're wrong...”

Pathetic! That's what they think you are, because that's how you set yourself up to be! You want them to notice you? You have to give them a reason to!

“You don't know anything...” Bob growled. He was getting sick of this guy, but it wasn't just because he was being a nuisance. Some part of him wanted to believe his reflection, and that terrified him. They do care, he tried to tell himself. They do notice me. He's lying.

Is that the best defense you've got? Geez, you can't even make a worthwhile argument! Oh, look at me, his reflection started, mocking him. I'm Bob Bryar. I think all those fakes around me respect me 'cuz they tell me so and I swallow every freaking word they spit out.

“Shut up!!!”

His reflection grinned. He could see that Bob was cracking now. Fast.

Perfect.

Do you want them to notice you, Bob?

“Just... just shut up!”

Do you want them to notice you?

Bob shook his head. “I don't need you.” he hissed through gritted teeth.

You're right, you don't, but you need someone to set you straight, and those frauds you call friends aren't going to help.

“Just leave me alone!”

Bob tried to move towards the door.

Let's make a deal, Bob.

Bob froze. What are you doing? He asked himself angrily. Don't even listen to him!

I know how we can settle this once and for all.

“I-I don't...” Bob could feel it inside of himself. His will was breaking... whatever this thing was going to try and make him do, he wasn't sure if he'd be able to stop himself anymore. Resist him, he thought desperately, panic bubbling through his veins. You know he's going to try and force you to do something. If you don't leave now, you might not be able to refuse.

You do, his reflection snarled. It's the only way. Now face your fears and do it!

“I'm not going to do anything you tell me...” said Bob, backing up.

It's because you know I'm right, isn't it? You know that I'll prove it to you. You have no real 'friends'. Only masquerading demons who want to manipulate you like a puppet!

“Don't you dare talk about them like that.”

Why? You know it's true. We both do. Only... one of us refuses to believe it.

“They care... I know they do...” Bob was feeling weak now. The nerves in his legs had gone numb.

No they don't!

“What do you know?!?”

A hell of a lot more than you do! They don't! Care! About! You!!!

“Shut up!!!”

Do it now! Do it now or you'll never know!!!

“What do you expect me to do?!?” Bob demanded.

His reflection's mouth spread in a sinister smile. I thought you didn't want to know...

“How do I prove it to you, you smug son of a b***h?!?” Bob was practically screaming now. He couldn't help it.

Look under the glass. His reflection indicated the overturned mug that sat inches from the sink.

Bob reached forward cautiously. Don't do it! His head screamed at him. But his body was too weak; his will had been drained. This isn't like you! Get out while you can!

But it was too late. Bob's fingers wrapped around the mug's handle and lifted it up, letting the small object inside slip out of its propped-up position. He set the glass down on the other side of the counter and looked back over at what had fallen out from beneath it.

Sitting on the counter, its edges glinting under the bathroom's pale yellow lighting, was the sleek form of a disposable razor, its edges already wet with blood.

“You can't be serious...” Bob muttered, backing away from the sink.

It'll work, Bob. I promise.

“You're psychotic.” he spat.

Listen to me, Bob. His reflection held up its arms, palms out, revealing a series of crimson gashes across either wrist. It'll work. Trust me.

“Trust you?” Bob demanded in disbelief. “Why the hell should I trust you?”

Because I'm the only one here for you. I'm the only one who still cares about you.

“You're trying to get me to butcher myself!”

You want proof that they care? That they love you? Do it!

“No!!!”

Then you admit that I'm right...

“No...”

I am right, Bob. You know they won't come to your rescue. You know they couldn't care less. If they really loved you, they wouldn't let you die!!!

“Leave me alone...” Bob was starting to feel disoriented now. He could feel his thoughts warping, being molded by this impostor like clay. But he couldn't stop it. He was loosing all hold on reality. Even the walls of the room had begun to slip away.

I'm the only friend you have left, Bob, his reflection growled. Listen to me. I'm trying to help you.

“You're trying to kill me...” Bob sank down against the bathroom wall. His heart was racing and his head was spinning.

Stand up!

Bob rose to his feet instantly. I didn't... I didn't do that. Bob thought suddenly, realizing what he'd just done. I didn't tell myself to do that.

You know it's the right thing to do...

No! Get away now!!! Bob moved closer to the sink. His own body refused to obey him now. Only his thoughts, trapped and useless in his head, were still his own. He could think, but he couldn't act. No matter how hard he tried.

Do it!!!

No!!! It's wrong!!! he screamed inside his head. This isn't the way!!!

DO IT NOW!!!

“NO!!!”

Gathering every ounce of strength he had left, Bob smashed at the mirror with his bare fists, the initial impact splitting the mirror down the center with a resounding crack. But he wasn't about to stop. He was pummeling the glass surface now. Shards of the mirror were flying every which way around Bob, littering the bathroom floor with jagged debris.

By the time Bob stopped, the mirror was a fourth its original size. The rest had been broken out and lay in pieces across the sink and floor. His knuckles were bleeding profusely over the linoleum tile, where it pooled and coagulated around the glass fragments that lay skewed across the floor. He could still see his reflection in what remained of the mirror. But it looked normal. It looked like...

Now really, Bob, what exactly were you planning to accomplish by doing that?

“No...” Bob staggered backwards.

His reflection sneered at him. You didn't think you'd get rid of me that easily, did you?

“Please...”

You're really trying my patience, Bob. I only wanted to help you, I swear. But you HAD to make it difficult. You HAD to try and prove you could make it on your own. And look where it's gotten you.

Bob's legs pushed him back towards the sink. His hands set themselves on the edge of the sink, where the shards of glass cut into his flesh. And it was then that he knew the truth; he had finally lost.

Do it, Bob. It's the only way.

Bob's trembling fingers reached out to grab the razor. They closed around the handle and he pulled it closer.

Don't do this, he pleaded with himself. Don't do this.

Using both his hands, he pried the small razor open, letting the four blades fall out onto the counter. They seemed incredibly thin and narrow, almost as if they wouldn't be able to pierce his skin.

Do it.

Bob picked up one of the blades. It felt cold and warm in his hand at the same time. The heat of his mirrored self's blood steamed up its frigid, unforgiving steel edges. He raised his hand over the opposite wrist.

NO!!! PUT IT DOWN!!!

You know what to do.

“It's the only way...” Bob heard himself whisper, finally helpless against the horrible force. And with that, he sunk the razor into the soft skin of his wrist.








Chapter Twenty-Three


“I have no idea how long he's been gone.” Frank admitted as he and Ray made their way down the hallway back to their dormitory. They'd left the medical wing a moment ago, only to discover that Bob had vanished. Gerard had decided to stay with Mikey for a few hours, so they had gone on alone.

“He's too damn quiet.” Ray said, shaking his head.

“Hope he doesn't think we forgot about him.” Frank laughed dryly.

They were at the dorm's entrance now. Frank turned the doorknob and pushed the door open, revealing the darkened room beyond.

“Doesn't look like anybody's here...” Frank started.

“We should still check it out.” Ray hinted.

Frank shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

Ray flipped the light switch near the chamber's door, throwing the room into light. The luminescence revealed all five beds in the state they'd been in when they'd bolted from the dorm to take Mikey to the medical wing.

“He's not in here.” Ray noted.

“No kidding.” Frank rolled his eyes. He stepped out into the middle of the room and called out, “Hey Bob! You in here?”

Silence.

“Doesn't look like it.”

“Why don't you check the closets? I can see if he's in the bathroom.”

“He would have answered if he were.” Frank argued. “I'm telling you, he's probably just off wandering around the complex.”

Ray made his way over to the side of the room where the entrance to the bathroom was. He stood in front of the door and knocked on it lightly with his knuckles.

“Hello? Anybody in there?”

No response.

Ray shrugged inwardly. He turned the knob and opened the door.

~*~


Frank had searched quickly through the dormitory's large, walk-in closet and hadn't found anyone, let alone anything, of interest inside. In fact, it was practically empty. It was just as he was exiting the closet that Ray's voice erupted from the other side of the room.

“FRANK!!!”

Frank recognized the urgency in his friend's voice immediately and barreled over to the bathroom door, skidding on the hard-wood floor slightly as he ran.

“What is it?!?” Frank cried as he flew across the distance that separated them.

“I-I don't... I...” Ray stammered. His eyes were fixed on the interior of the bathroom. His hands were clenched against the room's wooden entryway, and his knuckles had turned as white as snow.

“Ray, what are you -” Frank's words caught in his throat. “Oh... oh man... oh, s-s-s**t...”

Every inch of the bathroom, from the floors to the walls to the ceiling, was splattered with blood. The floor was a wasteland of shattered glass and crimson rivers. All four walls were coated in streaks, hand prints and claw-like marks. Above the sink, the mirror that had once been there had been destroyed to almost nothingness, revealing the origin of the shards that lay spread out over the entire room. And in the very center of it all, his head hung low over his chest, was Bob.

He was propped up weakly against the edge of the sink. His knees were drawn up slightly from the floor, letting his legs sprawl forward without hitting the opposite wall. Dark pools of scarlet were collected under either of his overturned wrists, their edges reaching out over the linoleum tile and merging with the the rest of the brutal display. Bob's hands were soaked in his own blood, and the right side of his face had been completely drenched as well.

“We... w-we have to get somebody down here...” Ray stuttered.

Frank nodded. “Get somebody from the medical wing! Fast!”

Ray was out of sight in moments, his long legs combined with the adrenaline pumping through his veins launching him down the hall faster than he would have thought possible.

Frank was left alone now in the blood-red room with Bob, who's labored breathing was getting weaker by the second. His eyes darting around the room, Frank caught sight of a towel-filled rack sitting at the end of the chamber. Making his way carefully over the debris at his feet, he took a set of washcloths down and ran back over to where Bob was lying nearly unconscious.

“Bob... Bob, say something. Please.” Frank pleaded. He wrapped the first towel tightly around Bob's left wrist. Bob winced a little but didn't say a word. After he had both of Bob's cuts covered, Frank set his fingers against the underside of his friend's chin. There was a pulse; faint, but nevertheless, there.

“Bob, come on. If you can hear me, just – just nod, or shake your head or – or something.”

Bob didn't respond.

He can't die, Frank thought mournfully. He's going to be alright. He has to be.

~*~


It was Monday, October 23rd, 6:02 AM. They were back in the medical wing again, only half an hour after Mikey had been brought in. Now Bob was lying in the back room next to his. Thanks to Kelly's quick thinking and Tobias' take-action style, they'd managed to get him stabilized to the point where they didn't need to keep a constant eye on him. The Underground had posted one of its resident psychologists in the room to keep an eye on him as part of his suicide watch.

Suicide watch, Frank thought bitterly. Those words made him want to smack someone. Suicide watch is for crazy people; people who want to die. Bob isn't like that. He wouldn't want to to kill himself. But Frank couldn't argue what he knew. What he'd seen with his own eyes. He himself had been standing in Bob's blood. He had been there first-hand when they'd found him. He knew the facts better than any of them. Still, he found himself refusing to believe it.

Only five of them were in the waiting room now. Gerard was sitting nearest to the back of the room, where the wing's main hall led off to the exam rooms. He was rubbing the back of his hand nervously; something he'd been doing for the past thirty minutes as well. Only now, he was practically rubbing his skin raw.

Ray was seated across from him on the other side of the room, behind the low divider that separated the hall from the waiting room. He tried to hide his worry behind the cover of the magazine he had held up over his face, but Frank could see his hands shaking. He knew Ray was trying to put up a tough front for Gerard's sake, but inside, Frank knew he was terrified.

Katie and Michelle sat together a seat away from Ray and two from Frank, not speaking but communicating non-verbally with their eyes. They would occasionally glance up at one of the men in the room, but they mainly kept to themselves and tried stay quiet.

Frank was as quiet as the rest of them, but inside his head, one haunting sentence kept repeating itself.

'It's the only way'.

The words that had been scrawled in blood over the bathroom mirror. Bob's blood. Bob's writing.

How could he do that to himself? Frank drummed his fingers soundlessly on the arm of the chair. He knew nothing good could come from a day like this. He was right.

Without a word, Gerard rose from his chair. He gave a quick glance to the four that sat along the opposite wall, then turned towards the door. Frank opened his mouth to say something, but the right words just wouldn't come. He knew how Gerard must be feeling. He and Ray were close to Mikey and Bob, too, but it still felt like Gerard was taking this a lot harder than he should.

They ARE brothers, Frank reminded himself, folding his hands over the end of his knees. He's the one he's supposed to protect. If anything happens to Mikey, he'll never forgive himself.

The door to the hallway shut behind Gerard, once again filling the room with complete silence.

~*~


Far from the tension in the medical wing, in the park planted on the Silent Underground's roof, Daniel and Melody strolled along the garden's path under the pale purple light that filled the cavern. The scenery had a calming effect and Daniel had suggested they come up here after what had happened with Mikey. He'd brought Melody here to protect her, and that wasn't the kind of thing she needed to see.

“It's really peaceful out here.” Melody said, smiling.

“Yeah. The lights above the cave are set on a twenty-four hour cycle, so they change colors depending on the time of day. I've always thought dawn is the best.”

“It's beautiful.” She tightened her grip on Daniel's hand. It was something she'd started doing a lot recently. She wasn't normally so quick to trust people, but she trusted Daniel. He was different than the rest.

“Want to see something even cooler?” Daniel asked, raising an eyebrow.

“How could I say no?”

Daniel led her a ways until they had reached the center of the park. Upon their arrival, Melody was blown away by the sight that met her eyes.

In the very middle of the clearing, surrounded by a ring of adjacent benches, was a glorious black marble fountain, similar to the one in the main lobby. This one, however, was easily twice as wide as the first. The effigy in the center was that of five winged angels standing in a circle around an ionic column. The column supported a towering crucifix, across which a series of lines were carved. From the little Melody could see, the words looked like more Latin. Each angel held their hands up high in the air. In their left hands, they carried a bowl or cup individual to their own image, while in the right, they carried a weapon marked with holy symbols and writings. Their heads, crowned and masked in flowing hair, were turned down to the pool at their feet. Water flowed from the rims of their saucers and goblets, falling into the small pond below.

“It's – it's magnificent.” Melody stammered in awe as Daniel led her to stand a few feet from the glorious fountain.

“I know.” Daniel breathed. “I've seen it a hundred times, but it takes my breath away every day.”

Melody looked up at Daniel. He was faced away from her and towards the fountain. For some reason, she felt like she, too, should be looking at it, but she found herself unable to take her eyes off him. The way his face was accented by the coronet lighting made him look... perfect. She knew it seemed strange, what with his multiple piercings and ink-black hair, but in her eyes, he was more radiant than any angel.

Not saying a word, Melody tugged at Daniel's hand. He looked down at her.

“What is it?”

She didn't say anything. With her eyes, she motioned to the ring of trees around the clearing. Daniel looked where she was indicating, then nodded, following her willingly into the thicket.

“I want you to know Melody,” Daniel started. “you shouldn't feel like being... being different has to keep you from living your life.”

Melody slowed a little, turning back to look at him. They were now standing under the shade of an ancient willow tree, its branches low and protecting.

“This vampire thing... it won't prevent you from loving someone. If this whole 'running away from home' thing is about some boy or whatever, you shouldn't feel like you can't be with him.”

That made her stop. In an instant, she remembered Will. She remembered the last twenty years they'd spent together. Ever since fifth grade, they had loved each other, and not once had they ever been unfaithful. They'd never dated anyone else, they'd never had second thoughts. It had been real love. The kind that only seemed to exist in fairy tales.

She remembered the night two years ago that Will had proposed to her. Melody had felt like the worst person in the world turning him down. It wasn't because she didn't want to marry him; she did. More than anything else in the world. But her parents would not allow it. She knew that much. But that hadn't changed anything. That hadn't changed how the felt about each other.

Now, she remembered Will's last few moments on earth. She remembered him dying right in front of her, not even able to defend himself against his killer. It hadn't even been his fault. Will, the love of her life, destined to be the only one who would ever love her as much as she loved him, had died because of her. Because she wasn't human.

How could Daniel say what he said? Being a vampire hadn't just stopped her from living her life; it had completely destroyed it. Everything and everyone she'd held dear had died at the hands of that mob. Her brother... her sisters... her parents... Will. She had no life left. Not any more.

“Melody?” Daniel asked. He'd been standing there for nearly a minute, waiting for her to say something.

She just stared at him, her fawn-colored eyes lost in his moss green irises.

“I-if you want, we can go back -”

Daniel was cut off as Melody suddenly leaned forward, her arms wrapping around his neck and pulling his head down closer to her own to compensate for the three inches in height that separated them. She pressed her lips against his and shut her eyes tightly. Stunned at first, Daniel leaned slowly into the kiss. He wound his arms around Melody's back, pulling her closer.

They stood there for what seemed like an eternity. An eternity which was, in reality, only seven seconds long. When Melody finally pulled back, Daniel released her from his grasp and opened his eyes, staring down into her shadow-darkened face.

“Melody... I... I...”

She pressed a finger against his lips and shook her head. Her arms were still around his neck and she pulled him towards her again, this time resting her head on his shoulder. Her hair was warm against the skin above his jacket collar. She shut her eyes again.

Daniel ran a hand over her face. He felt a tear roll down across his fingers.

“Melody? Is everything alright?”

She didn't say anything. She just stood there, perfectly still.

“Melody?” Daniel sounded concerned now.

“Yes,” Melody lied, “everything's fine.” She turned her head so her face was buried in Daniel's neck. She could smell the scent of his cologne now, faint yet still detectable after a good twenty four hours.

“Maybe we should go back. Make sure everyone's doing okay.”

Melody shook her head. “I don't want to leave.” She nuzzled his neck gently, her long hair caressing his skin.

“A-alright...”

He tried to turn her head with the hand he had still pressed against her cheek, but she shook it away.

“Melody?”

“Danny, I - I swear, I'm so sorry...” More tears spilled down over her face.

“Sorry? For wha -”

Melody pressed a hand against his mouth none too gently. He tried to speak again, but she pushed him up against the trunk of the willow with a strength he couldn't have predicted.

“I'm sorry.” she whispered again, and before Daniel could respond, she had sunk her razor-sharp teeth into his throat.








Chapter Twenty-Four


Michelle knocked on the door to the room where Mikey was resting. She waited a few seconds for a response, but when none came, she tried again. Still nothing.

She frowned. She wasn't sure whether she should go in or not. One part of her knew that if Mikey was having some sort of break down, it was probably best if she left him alone. But another side of her argued against that. He probably needs someone to talk to, Michelle told herself. She didn't care what that other side of her had to say. She'd made up her mind and wasn't going to change it.

Glancing down either side of the hall, Michelle found that it was empty. Most of the medical wing's staff was in Bob's room, leaving the main corridor deserted.

For safe measure, Michelle knocked on Mikey's door one more time. No answer. Taking a deep breath, she turned the knob and opened it wide, allowing herself to step quickly inside. She shut the door quietly behind her.

Turning to face the interior of the room, Michelle's eyes flew wide open. Sitting in the center of the room, surrounded by glaring white lights, was an empty hospital bed, its sheets tousled and pulled over the edge of the mattress so that half of them rested on the floor. The restraints that had held Mikey to the bed had been cut by something (exactly what, Michelle couldn't be sure) and were hanging limply against the bed's stainless steel railings.

“What -” Michelle started, but was cut off as a hand clamped over her mouth. Another wrapped around her waist and dragged her back towards the corner of the room, her legs flailing wildly the entire time.

Michelle tried to scream, but the hand had her mouth completely covered. She made an attempt to bite her attacker, but he stopped her by pulling her head back farther so that she was facing towards the ceiling.

“Calm down!” her attacker cried.

“Like hell!” Michelle shouted, her words coming out as little more than a slur of syllables.

“Michelle, take it easy!”

Michelle froze. She recognized that voice.

“Mikey?”

The hand around her mouth eased off a little. The arm around her waist, however, was still tight and unfaltering.

“I don't want to hurt you.” Mikey said, trying to calm her.

“Then what the hell do you call that?” Michelle demanded.

“I'm sorry, but -”

“Give me one reason why I shouldn't scream my lungs out right now and wake up every human being within the next block!”

Michelle felt something cold and sharp press against her neck. She looked down, only to see the blade of the scalpel that was now held against her skin.

“Don't make me, Michelle. Please. I don't want to hurt you.” Mikey whispered. She could tell by his voice that he was telling the truth.

“W-why are you doing this?” stammered Michelle. She set her hands on the arm around her waist, trying to gently push it away.

“You don't know what those guys have been saying,” Mikey mumbled, referring to the medical wing doctors. “They think that I'm insane.”

Michelle didn't say anything.

“You... you believe me, right?” Mikey sounded desperate. “You think that I'm okay?”

“No... I...”

“You don't?”

“It's not that I don't want to. I just – Mikey, you're holding a fricking knife to my throat. How am I supposed to trust you?”

“It's not a knife, it's -it's a - it's irrelevant.” he muttered. “But you have to listen to me, Michelle. This stuff that's going on; all this bad luck that's been following us; it's not an accident. Someone's trying to kill us and they're stalking us down one by one. They're trying to split us apart.”

Normally, Michelle might have believed Mikey, but the frantic, crazed tone in his voice kept her skeptical.

“Mikey, I honestly don't know what you're -”

“It's my dreams!” Mikey practically screamed. “They're coming true.”

Michelle bit her lip. She wanted to say something, to try and calm him down or something, but she was still wary of the scalpel against her throat. Mikey's mental health seemed to have passed the breaking point and she had no way of knowing what might set him off.

“Do you...” she started. “Do you have any proof?”

Mikey thought for a second.

“Well, there's... I mean, I can't – can't prove the first one. I could just lie my way out of that one by now. The second one...” Mikey's voice trailed off.

The scalpel retreated a hair's breadth from her skin.

“The second one was different.” He continued. “I could feel it. It was more of an omen than – than a prediction.”

“So... you don't have any proof?” Michelle asked, though it came out as more of a statement than a question.

Though she couldn't see him, Michelle could tell Mikey was shaking his head.

“I had another one. A third one... right before now. I can only remember part of it though. Damn it!”

Michelle jumped a little.

“They always get stronger after the first or second time.” he muttered. “Or if something jumpstarts my memory.”

“And you can prove it? You can prove it was real?”

“Yes!” Mikey exclaimed. “But we have to get out of here first.” He paused.

“What is it?” Michelle asked.

“Can I trust you?” he asked dubiously.

“Can you trust me?” she demanded. “If I remember correctly, you're the one that was threatening to kill me.”

“That's not what I'm talking about.” Mikey let her go suddenly, releasing her waist and taking the scalpel away from her neck. She staggered forwards and away from him.

Michelle turned to look at him. Standing there, cloaked in shadows, Mikey certainly had the aesthetics of a maniac. His hair was disorderly and unkept, and the shirt he was wearing was stained with spit and blood. The hand that held the scalpel was as chalk white as his face, and she could see a set of pale outlines around his arms where the restraints had once been. Surprisingly though, his eyes, or what was visible of them under layers of hair, seemed to reflect a steady calm.

Probably the drugs, Michelle thought at first. But the way he was moving and acting seemed unhindered and natural. Though it seemed hard to believe he could calm himself so fast. Another reason to believe he's perfectly sane, she told herself.

“Come on.” Mikey gestured her towards the medical room's window.

“Where are you going?” She asked doubtfully.

“If we go out the door, they're going to see us and make me stay. I have to show you or else it might be too late.”

“Too late?” Michelle looked at him strangely. “Too late for what?”

Mikey shook his head. “I – I don't know. But there was another part of my dream. A part I can't remember, which happens to be the majority. All I know is that there's something in the park we have to see quick. We're against the clock here.”

“But... how will finding this – thing – help?” Michelle stepped over to the window where Mikey was standing.

“This isn't just about proving that my dreams are coming true.” Mikey said as he pushed the window open. “That part of the dream I can't remember... I just know something bad is going to happen soon. Usually, when I see something that was part of my dream, or something similar, it gets my memory going. If we can make it to the park, I should be able to recall the entire thing.”

“Should?”

“Alright, will.” Mikey was standing on the sill. “Now come on. Time's of the essence.”

“You do realize this is a second story room?”

Mikey smiled at her. “Then don't look down.”

~*~


Melody descended the steps from the park down into the Silent Underground without so much as a glance from the people around her. They had no reason to suspect a thing. She looked as innocent as any of them; maybe more. She had wiped the blood from her mouth almost immediately. The last thing she wanted to do was walk around in a city full of hunters with such an easily identifiable characteristic as a chin dripping with crimson.

For the briefest moment after she'd bitten Daniel, she had felt a terrible pang of regret in her gut. But that feeling had quickly passed and was replaced by a new one. Hunger. Melody had not tasted blood for two days, and once she had gotten a whiff of Daniel's, her urge to feed had kicked into overdrive. One victim would not be enough. She needed more. Three, or perhaps four. Four would be plenty.

But she knew it would be a bad idea to feed in plain sight. She had to find someone where there was nobody else. She had to find someone who'd alienated themselves from the people around them. She had to find -

Melody stopped suddenly. She had already walked almost all the way to the building's entrance, searching for a prime target. Someone who was new to this place, preferably. Who would not have many friends. But she also needed someone who would at least know her well enough for her to get them alone. Which was why her heart skipped a beat as she caught sight of Gerard Way, making his way down the hallway alone towards his dorm.

~*~


Gerard sighed as he stepped into the room. He threw the jacket he'd been wearing onto the nightstand next to his bed. Dropping down onto the bedspread, he resolved to simply stare out into space in his state of depression.

Things were only going from bad to worse for them. It wasn't like he didn't expect any of them to get hurt doing this but... this still felt wrong. Mikey had had a complete mental breakdown and Bob... Bob had tried to take his own life. Knowing that they had been hurt because of something internal or from something they themselves had done was worse than any kind of pain Gerard knew. Ray and Frank were taking it a lot better, and as for Katie and Michelle... they still barely knew them. Gerard felt ashamed for leaving his friends in the medical wing so abruptly, but he couldn't stand to see them like that. Some hospitalized, the rest helpless to do anything about it.

He was just about to get up to find something to do that would take his mind off things when he heard knocking on the door to the room. Probably Frank or Ray, Gerard thought immediately. They always felt like they had to check up on him if he sulked away like that. And in a way, he was thankful. Not that he wanted to talk to them (which he usually made clear by slamming the door in their face), but it always reminded him that no matter what, they cared.

Gerard was surprised, though, to find not Frank or Ray at the door, but the girl that had been introduced to him as Melody. Her face was slightly downcast and she was standing perfectly still.

“Melody...” Gerard started.

“Gerard,” she began, cutting him off. She looked up into his face and he could see the tears pouring down her face, “there's something I need to talk to you about.”

~*~


“I know it's near here.” Mikey said to Michelle as they made their way through the park. They were in the main clearing now. “I recognize that fountain.”

“How? You've never seen it before.”

Mikey nodded. “I know. At least not in real life.”

Michelle looked at him strangely. What it possible that he'd actually seen it in his dream?

“But... it's different.” Mikey said hesitantly.

“What do you mean?”

Mikey pointed towards one of the five angels in the center. “See that one there? The one with the sword?”

Michelle could see it easily. It held a glistening marble longsword in one hand and a wide-brimmed bowl in the other.

“Yeah,” she answered.

“It was pointing.” he said. “The arm holding the sword was pointed straight out.”

“Were the rest of them...”

He shook his head. “No. Just that one.”
Quickly judging the angle of the weapon in its relation to the body, Mikey traced with his eyes a line from the angel to the edge of the clearing. It disappeared between two oak trees and back into the grove beyond.

“This way.” Mikey said, indicating for her to follow.

They made their way towards the cluster of trees. Mikey kept his eyes fixed on the invisible line that led their way, making sure not to stray from the path that it led them down. He barely noticed as they passed under the shadows of the looming oak trees and into the light forest.

“What do you think it was pointing to?” Michelle asked warily.

“I have no clue,” Mikey admitted, “but that's what we're here to find out.”

Even in the underground, the fall season was noticeable as the leaves on the ground crunched noisily underfoot. Mikey and Michelle scanned the subtle darkness that surrounded them, searching for anything that seemed out of place.

Sure be a lot easier if I knew what we were looking for, Michelle thought. She was just about to mention it when Mikey grabbed her by the shoulder.

“Geez!” she exclaimed. “What the hell is it?”

Mikey didn't say anything. He just pointed straight forward, towards the base of a towering willow tree. When Michelle saw what he had, she immediately felt her breathe catch in her throat.

Lying crumpled by the willow's trunk, one hand held feebly over the gaping wound in his neck, was Daniel. Blood encircled his head and his shoulders from where it had seeped into the grass. By the looks of it, he had already lost an incredible amount. The little pigment his face had originally held had been drained completely, giving his gaunt face the reminiscence of an apparition. Only the gradual rise and fall of his chest as he breathed signified the fact that he was still alive.

“Danny!” Michelle cried, rushing to where he lie. She knelt down quickly in the blood-soaked grass beside him.

Daniel gave a faint murmur through scarlet-stained lips, but it came out as only a stifled cough.

When Michelle didn't notice Mikey move closer, she turned around to see what was going on. Instead of running to Daniel's side like she had, he was standing perfectly still ten feet away, just staring at the brutal scene.

It can't be... Mikey thought. It was coming back to him now. His dream. His entire dream.

“No...” Mikey muttered. “No. No... it can't...”

“Mikey, we need to get him help!” Michelle called back to him.

“I... I...” Mikey was torn. He saw the frantic look in Michelle's eyes and in his head, he could see Gerard. Not only him, but what was about to happen to him. “Gerard's in danger,” Mikey started, “One of us needs to get help for Danny and the other has to make sure Gerard's okay.”

Michelle looked at him dubiously.

“You have to trust me.” He looked at her pleadingly. “Please.”

She looked down at Daniel. His eyelids were only halfway open and she could tell he had slipped out of consciousness for the most part. After a few seconds of thinking, she'd made up her mind.

“I'll get Ken and Tobias up here to bring Danny down to the medical wing. Go check on your brother.”

“What about him?” Mikey asked, indicating Daniel.

Michelle looked down at him for a split second. “He'll – he'll have to be okay on his own for a little while longer. Just hurry. If Gerard's in as much danger as you think he is, he'll need all the help he can get.”

“You're willing to trust me?” He looked at her seriously.

“You haven't let me down so far.” she said, her lips curving up ever so slightly at the corners.

Mikey smiled back, then took off across the park, hoping against all odds that he could make it back to the dormitory before it was too late.

~*~


“I don't know what to do.” Melody sobbed. She was sitting next to Gerard on his bed, just staring down at the floor below her feet. They had only been talking for a few minutes, but it already seemed she had confided her complete confidence in him. Little did he know she was lying through her teeth.

“I thought Danny wanted to protect me – that he wanted to keep me safe.” she murmured. “But he's just like all those other pigs. He doesn't even care that my boyfriend just died! He just – agh, it makes me sick!”

Gerard didn't know what to say. He barely knew Melody, but his natural instinct told him he should protect her. She seemed so helpless, and he couldn't just let that creep keep making advances on her. He would protect her; it was his duty.

“I-I'm just glad I could talk to you.” Melody continued. “Things have terrible ever since...” She stopped herself. Gerard didn't know she was a vampire yet. He wouldn't have to. “... ever since I ran away from home.”

She jumped a little when she felt his hand close around her own.

“I'm not going to let him try anything else.” Gerard promised her, looking deep into her eyes.

Melody smiled. “Thank you.”

“If you want, I can tell Katie or Michelle. They know Danny. Maybe they can talk it out. Find out why he did that.”

“No, I...” Melody shook her head. “I didn't want to tell anybody at first, but... then I wanted to talk to somebody. But I wanted to talk to somebody who didn't know him. Who wouldn't take his side.”

Gerard smiled uneasily. He was glad that she trusted him, but something about this situation didn't seem right. Something about the look in Melody's eyes seemed almost... fake.

Before he realized what she was doing, Melody leaned forward and threw her arms around him. Her tears were soaking into the collar of his shirt now and he could feel her fragile body shaking like a leaf. He returned the gesture, holding her tightly and protectively. He wasn't going to let anyone or anything hurt to her. He'd let enough people down already. He wasn't about to let it happen again.

“Thank you.” she whispered.

Gerard nodded.

Melody pulled back. Her arms were still around Gerard's back, but now her eyes were level with his. He was about to say something when, without warning, she leaned forward and her lips met with his.

Eyes flying wide open, Gerard freed his arms from Melody's grasp and shoved her back. She stumbled slightly over the bedsheets, shock and disappointment evident on her face.

“What the hell?!?” Gerard demanded.

“I – I just thought -” Melody stammered.

“You're giving me all this about your dead boyfriend and Danny trying to take advantage of you, and – what the hell is wrong with you?!?”

“Gerard, it's not like that -”

“Forget it!” Gerard glared at her. “And that thing about Danny? I thought something seemed fishy before, but now I know exactly what you're trying to pull.” He stood up. “I'm out of here.”

“No, please!” She got up off the bed and tried to grab his arm to stop him, but he swatted her hand aside angrily.

“You think I feel bad for you? You think I feel sympathetic?!? Whoever your boyfriend was, he didn't deserve you. He's probably better off dead!”

That struck a nerve. It wasn't just the dark side of Melody that was angry now.

“You son of a b***h!” she screamed. She threw her hand forward and seized Gerard by the collar of his shirt. She pulled him backwards with inhuman force, throwing him across the room like a rag doll and sending him flying into the east wall.

Gerard didn't have time to brace for impact. He hit the wall face first at over a hundred miles an hour, sending a shock wave through the drywall and creating a hole where his upper body made contact. A sickening crack resonated from his chest, and it was obvious that something was broken before he'd even hit the ground.

“I'm going to kill you, Gerard.” Melody hissed. She made her way across the room at an agonizingly slow gait. Gerard could only watch helplessly as she drew nearer, fighting to catch his breath from the jarring blow. “There were never any if's, and's, or but's. I need blood to survive, and you've presented yourself as an easy target.”

Gerard shook his head. “I guess I should learn to be a little less trusting.” he wheezed, but immediately regretted it as a sharp pain tore through his lungs. He winced visibly, causing Melody's mouth to curve into a sadistic smile.

“Broke a rib, did we?” she said tauntingly. She was only a few feet from him now...

(CONTINUED IN NEXT POST)

Offline
Chapters 24*-27


Chapter Twenty-Four (cont.)


Knowing better than to try to speak again, Gerard tried to inch his way along the wall towards the door. Melody saw through his futile plan instantly and delivered a ruthless kick to his stomach. His face contorted with pain and he gasped. Jumping into action, she wrapped her fingers around his windpipe and cut off his air supply in mid-breath.

“Don't worry,” she whispered, her words having their complete opposite effect on Gerard. “I don't have any reason to choke you to death. Human blood congeals too quickly after death for it to be worthwhile.” She looked down into his clouding eyes with sick joy. “So as much as I'd love to sit and watch you flail as your lungs starve to death, I'm afraid I have a better use for you.”

Melody bared her teeth at him, revealing the two unnaturally long fangs growing from her upper jaw. Gerard saw small pieces of flesh still caught in the gaps, and felt sudden waves of nausea and terror sweep through him in unison. He knew what was coming; he just wished she would get it over with.

She set a hand against the left side of his face and pushed his head to the side, exposing his neck and leaving him defenseless. With her other hand, she brushed aside the hair that was still in the way, then gripped his shoulder, giving her a perfect target zone around his artery.

“I promise, Gerard,” she murmured, her breath hot on his neck, “this won't hurt a bit.”

She was right. Gerard barely felt it as her teeth pierced his carotid artery, and only the warm sensation of the blood on his skin woke him to the grim reality of the situation. The chemicals that spilled from her saliva into his veins left him all but paralyzed. He could only watch through misty eyes as she drained him to nothingness.

All of the sudden, Melody lurched backwards, her fangs which had been dug into Gerard's flesh harshly tearing through his skin and leaving gaping exit wounds. He was so drugged by her venom that he barely recognized the figure that now stood in the room's doorway, but he heard him loud and clear.

“Get your hands off my brother!”








Chapter Twenty-Five


Mikey stared out across the room to where Melody was knelt over Gerard. He saw the blood dripping from her lips and the wound on his brother's neck and knew in a split second what was going on. Before Melody could react, Mikey seized the lamp from the nearest bedside table and hurled it across the room at her.

She screamed as the porcelain fixture struck her square in the face. It shattered into hundreds of pieces, cutting into her even further and causing her to shriek in agony. She stumbled backwards, clutching her bleeding head in her hands. The blood that poured over her fingers was not red, but a thick, molasses-like sap that stuck to her skin like glue.

“You're too late!” Melody yelled, coughing up a little of the ink black blood as she spoke. “He'll be dead in no time!”

“We'll see about that!” Mikey charged forward, armed with nothing more than his bare hands.

“You can't be serious?” she sneered. As he threw his first punch at her, she caught his arm by the wrist, then the other in only a matter of seconds. She held his arms out as far from his chest as she could and drove the heel of her shoe into the center of Mikey's knee, causing him to collapse in pain as the joint popped. “You're pathetic.” An evil grin played across her face as she bent down towards him. “I was going to simply drain your brother, but I'm not the type to turn down a free meal.”

Mikey looked up at her, a mixed expression of terror and defiance in his eyes. “Just try, you sadistic b***h.”

Melody laughed, “With pleasure.”

She lifted Mikey up off the ground by the collar as if he were no lighter than a feather, her soulless eyes piercing him like knives. He tried to get his footing, but his right leg refused to work.

“Say hello to Danny for me.” she sneered.

Whack!

Mikey felt her hands release him and he dropped to the floor. Crawling back as far as he could, his eyes widened with shock as he saw Melody writhing in pain on the floor and Gerard standing behind her. His hands were wrapped around a nail-lined board he'd managed to pry from the wall he'd crashed into. It's edges were now dripping with the tar-like goo that ran through Melody's veins. The dark circles under his brother's eyes were even deeper with pained fatigue, and Mikey could tell that his grip on the weapon was weak.

He doesn't have much time left, Mikey thought, horrified. He saw the wound that was imbued on Gerard's shoulder and the blood that was spilling from it. He's going to bleed to death!

“You b*****d!” Melody screeched. She staggered to her feet, her hands holding the freshly cut wound on the back of her skull. “I'm going to tear you limb from -”

The words never left her mouth. Gerard delivered another blow with the board to the front of her face, cutting a series of vicious arcs from her ear to her brow. This time, though, she didn't fall down. He saw the hatred in the empty sockets her eyes had become and made an attempt to swing again, but she caught the weapon in one hand and tore it from his grasp.

“Hurry up and die.” she grunted, smacking him across the face. The blow was more than enough to put Gerard out of commission in his already weakened state. He fell to the floor unconscious and bleeding.

“Absolutely pathetic.” Melody spat. She turned towards Mikey, then stopped for a second. She reached into her mouth with one hand, then extracted a broken tooth from the back of her jaw. It was completely covered in the ink-like blood and he could see that her gum line was bleeding profusely.

“What a pity.” she said sadly. “All that trouble with braces and someone goes and ruins years of hard work.”

Mikey just stared at her. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Gerard bleeding on the floor only feet away. He wanted to help his brother. He had to. But Melody stood between them, and she wasn't about to let him pass.

Melody glanced at Mikey for a second, then fixed him with a penetrating stare. “Something wrong, Mikey?”

He didn't say a word.

Her eyes flickered over to Gerard, then back to Mikey. “Oh, don't worry about him.” She grinned. “You'll be together again very soon.”

Melody advanced on him slowly, covering the ground he'd managed to put between himself and her too quickly. When she'd reached him, she lifted his chin up in her bony fingers, even the little force she was exerting overpowering him in his state of stun. Up this close, Mikey could see the black blood from her mouth mixing with that which she had drained from Gerard, trickling down her chin in narrow streams and dripping down onto his shirt as she leaned over him. She ran her tongue over the viciously curved points of her fangs, taunting him.

Still, Mikey refused to falter. If he was going to go down, he was going to go down with every bit of dignity he could hold onto. In most circumstances, it would have been a noble deed. But Melody would have none of that.

“There's something about you, Mikey Way,” Melody started, running a hand through his hair. “I just can't seem to put my finger on it.”

Mikey said nothing. He met her withering gaze head on.

“You're brave, Mikey.” she crooned. “Braver than the rest of these creatures you surround yourself with. But alas, just like them, you will die one day, and if I were to have my with it, that day would be today. Now tell me, do you really want that?”

Her voice is... changing, thought Mikey. It was no longer the same voice he was used to. The vampire inside of her was growing stronger by the second, and it's hideous voice was becoming more dominant.

“Mikey?” she asked, more insistent before.

He refused to speak.

Melody sighed. “Michael, I'm trying to make you an incredible offer. Do you have any idea what it's like to live forever? What does humanity have to offer you? Nothing but death and misery. Live as a vampire and you will be immortal. You will be deathless.”

“Deathless?” Mikey demanded. His eyes were blazing with hatred. “Deathless? Immortality has nothing to do with invincibility. Your saying you expect me to trade my soul for an eternal curse? You think I'm so damn selfish that I'd chose to take lives every night in order to sustain my own? I'd kill myself before I become like you, you hideous freak!”

Melody smiled. “You have nerve, Mikey. I'll give you that. But that's not going to get you anywhere.” She grabbed Mikey's wrists and forced his arms behind his back, bending him backwards on his disjointed knee. He bit his lip until it bled, fighting the urge to scream in pain.

“I was trying to be polite, Mikey. Give you a choice.” She lowered her head to his neck. “Now, however, I'm afraid I'm going to have to do this whether you want me to or not.

“Being such a great monster hunter, I'm sure you're quite familiar with how vampirism is spread. So I'll save you the lecture.” Melody bent down closer Mikey's neck, letting a small trickle of her own blood fall down over his skin. He flinched as it dripped down onto his flesh, the searing heat that resulted more painful than acid.

“Trust me, Mikey.” she whispered in his ear. “It's better off this way.”

The fangs were almost unnoticeable as they slipped into his flesh like invaders, allowing the foreign vampire blood to seep in through the wound. Mikey felt it almost instantly, and as the ink-like substance entered his bloodstream, he let out a short gasp. That was all he had time to utter before the chemical reached his brain, and in seconds, he was lying on the floor and shaking with convulsions.

Melody saw the dark waters of death clouding around his eyes and smiled. He'll thank me when it's done, she told herself. He just needs to experience it for himself.

Satiated by the blood of the three men she had feasted on that night, Melody made her way over to the dormitory's window. She looked out into the cold cavern beyond.

It's daylight outside, she reminded herself. Stay covered.

Rooting through the room's only dresser, Melody found a heavy coat and wrapped it around herself. She pulled the hood up over her head, making sure it covered her entire face. Perfect.

Melody opened the window and stepped out onto the cavern floor. It was cold on her bare feet, but she barely felt it through her inhuman skin. Preparing to leave, she took one last glance back into the room and smiled.

Mikey was already dead.

~*~


Please be alright, Frank prayed as he ran towards the dorm at the end of the hall. Katie, Michelle, and Ray were close behind, their shoes pounding on the hardwood floor. Michelle had told them what Mikey had said, and Frank immediately knew something was wrong. Mikey would never have left Daniel that quickly unless something terrible was about to happen. He just hoped they weren't too late.

“You think Gerard's life is actually in danger?” Katie asked worriedly.

“I'm not sure.” Michelle admitted. “Mikey was pretty vague. The sooner we get there, the sooner we'll know.”

As they neared the end of the corridor, Frank saw that the door to the room was slightly ajar. Something about the sight made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. It's nothing, Frank tried to assure himself. Mikey probably just left it open by accident when he came in...

They slowed down when the reached the entrance. Frank stopped right in front of the door. Some sixth sense inside of him warned him not to open it, but he knew he had to. If Mikey or Gerard was in danger, he couldn't just abandon them. Without another thought, Frank pushed the door wide open.

The room looked empty at first. As the four entered, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. All five beds were still unmade from the night before. The lamps on the end tables were still...

That's when Frank noticed the lamp on the nearest nightstand was missing. In fact, that wasn't the only thing that was off about the room. The wide double-window at the end of the room was open, letting in a cold draft from the outside cavern. Not only that, but the east wall had a severe dent in its surface, with trace amounts of crimson drops spattered over it.

“What the -” Frank started. He stopped instantly as he moved closer to the wall and saw what the bed next to him had previously hidden from his line of sight.

“Gerard!” shouted Frank. He jumped over the bed in one lightning fast movement, landing on the floor next to Gerard's inert body. Frank could see the blood still spilling out of the fresh wound on his neck and realized that his own feet were standing in a puddle of scarlet fluid. Gerard's eyes were half-lidded and dark, and Frank could see that most of the light in his pupils was fading.

The other three were by his side in seconds. Ray pressed his fingers against the base of Gerard's chin.

“He's still got a pulse.” he called out hopefully.

Katie grabbed a sheet from the nearest bed and handed it to him. “Keep as much of his blood in as possible. Michelle and I will go for help.”

Not again, Ray thought. First Mikey, then Bob, now Gerard...

As Katie turned to leave, she let out a cry of alarm. Frank and Ray's heads whipped around to see what had caused it.

Motionless on the other side of the room, Mikey lay staring up at the ceiling, his throat dripping with blood. One hand was held limply against the wound, completely immobile like the rest of his body. The blood from the bite was splattered over his face and hair, soaking into his skin and clothes.

“Mikey...” Frank felt like his stomach had jumped into his throat. He stood up slowly, unable to process everything that was going on. His eyes were telling him more than he could take.

“No...” he started. He could only stare in horror at Mikey's listless figure. No one in the room dared to breathe.

“s**t.” Ray muttered, his eyes wide. He was across the room in a flash, kneeling over Mikey. With trembling hands, he pressed his fingers against the skin on Mikey's wrists.

He held them there for five seconds. Six. Seven.

“Oh God...” Ray gasped.

Frank just stood there open-mouthed. “He can't be – I mean, he isn't...”

Ray turned to him and Frank saw a thin trail of tears down his friend's face. No one spoke. The suffocating quiet that hung over the room was like smog, clotting their throats and prohibiting any action. They could only stand frozen in stunned silence.

“W-w-we have to get a m-medic.” Ray finally stammered. He pulled his hand back from Mikey's lifeless body and looked up at Michelle and Katie. “W-we can still save Gerard.”

“He's – he isn't...” Michelle murmured, her eyes fixed on Mikey.

“Get someone in here now.” Ray persisted.

“He can't just -”

“NOW!”

Michelle saw the look in Ray's eyes and immediately turned and ran out of the room as fast as she could. It took Katie a moment to catch on, having been completely caught off-guard by the dark turn of events. Soon, though, she was sprinting down the hall only a few feet from Michelle, racing to, by some miracle, spare Gerard from the fate which had already befallen Mikey.

Back in the room, Frank found himself rendered speechless. Involuntarily, he collapsed on the nearby bed, his knees shaking violently and threatening to give way.

“He can't be dead...” Ray muttered. His hand was over Mikey's chest, feeling in vain for a heartbeat. “He can't be...”

“This isn't going to stop, is it?” Frank asked, his sorrow unabashed in his disheartened tone.

Ray looked up at him through watering eyes. “What isn't?”

Frank shook his head. “This. This misery, this pain, this suffering!” His hands were gripped so tightly on the bedsheets that his nearly non-existent fingernails were biting into his palms. “We're sitting idly by as if nothing's happening, while the world's going to s**t around us!”

“Then what the hell do you suggest we do about it?” Ray demanded through gritted teeth.

“How about fight back for once?” Frank stood up. “And for starters, how 'bout we believe in each other? When Mikey had that nightmare and flipped out on us, we just dismissed it as schizophrenia! That's friggin' bull! Bob tried to kill himself and we haven't even stopped to think for a second that maybe he wasn't ! What the hell kind of friends are we?”

Ray turned his head down in shame. “You're right...” he whispered.

“No one else is going to die -” Frank growled, running a hand through his hair. Ray could tell, even out the of the corner of his eye, that his friend was doing his best to keep from crying.

“- and I don't care if we have to search the fricking Otherworld.” he hissed, clenching his fists. “We're finding the b***h that murdered Mikey and we're going to avenge him. No matter what it takes.”








Chapter Twenty-Six


Kendra smiled. No matter what it takes? She thought gleefully. Dear boy, 'what it takes' is far more than you can ever hope to accomplish.

She sat cross-legged on the floor of her bed chamber, seated before the swirling pool of mercury that lay embedded before her. It's waters barely frothed as it churned in its endless loop down through the levels of her citadel, down to where it originated at the mystical River of Infinity. From the surface of the pool, Kendra could see through the eyes of nearly every being on Earth. Any creature who had so much as been touched by a demon became an unwilling spy, and through these means, she watched the Silent Underground with an attentive eye.

How such a large group of hunters had gone under her radar she'd never know, but the second the five men had stepped foot inside, they'd doomed every living soul. This was the last one. This was all that remained of the earth's defenses. And once Kendra eliminated them...

My task will be complete, Kendra thought to herself. She could not help but grin. She alone, without the help of any of the devil's other acolytes, had single-handedly wiped out the hunters. Earth's only guardians lay decomposing in the soil now because of her glorious deeds. Satan would reward her generously for this.

However, Kendra knew her envious sister would try to take a share of her reward. That arrogant b***h thinks she deserves it? She frowned. Nashome thinks her infinitesimal assistance is equal to all the work I have done. What has she done other than expose and weaken a single hunter? Absolutely nothing. She will receive no thanks from Lucifer. I have done all this work for him. Me, not her.

Kendra watched as a swarm of medical staff rushed into the room, accompanied by the two women who had fetched them. They knelt down over Gerard, picking him up gently and lifting him onto a stretcher, being careful not to injure him any more than he already was. Mikey, however, they left alone. They knew there was nothing they could do for him.

“Not exactly true,” Kendra whispered to herself. If they were smart, they'd drive a stake through his heart while they still have the chance.

It made her laugh to think that a room full of hunters was so struck by grief that they couldn't recognize the signs of death by vampirism. The dark swelling around the wound, the clouding around the white of his eyes. It wouldn't take a brain surgeon to tell something was wrong. Then again, sorrow was a powerful drug.

Kendra rose from the floor. She'd seen enough to know that her plan was well in motion and showed no signs of stopping. They were falling one by one, just as she'd set it up. Some would die; other's would be converted to the darkness. Exactly which ones would go where was still to be decided. She only needed a few of them. The only one she was sure of was the one that went by the name 'Iero'; her sister had demanded he be allowed to live untainted, and as much as she despised Nashome, she would honor the wishes of her family.

The ends of her gown danced lightly as she glided across the stone floor of her chamber. The dress was a gift to her from her dear father and not a day went by that she didn't wear it. Its ink black fabric was woven from angel's wings and, as he had told her, the blood of saints. That's the way it had been for Kendra's entire childhood. Her father had bought her affection with morbid gifts and trinkets, trying to compensate for her longing for a mother. Once she'd come of age, though, things changed entirely. Kendra became the very first acolyte born under her father, and as such, his most powerful child. Higher in Hell's hierarchy than any demon, than even her brothers, she had the greatest claim to their family's dark domain.

She was willing to admit it. Being the devil's eldest daughter certainly had its perks.

~*~


If the mood in the medical wing had been depressing before, it was absolutely miserable now. Every doctor the Silent Underground had at its disposal was working full time in the exam rooms, leaving Katie, Ray, Frank, and Michelle alone in the waiting room.

Two hours had passed since they had found him. Two hours since the doctors had made it official. Mikey was dead and there was no denying it.

Frank and Ray sat side by side in the soft, dark-wooded chairs that lined the walls. Eyes red from crying, Frank kept his head turned down towards the black linoleum floor. He didn't want to talk now. He knew anything he tried to say would come out as nothing more than a choked sob.

Ray, on the other hand, had managed to calm himself since the incident. His breathing was controlled and steady and his eyes were long since dried, but inside he felt like his lungs were on fire. He was bent forward over his knees with his head turned towards the door.

On the opposite side of the room, Katie and Michelle were sitting silently under the leaves of the nearby potted plant. They wanted to say something, but the cloud of oppressive gloom that hung in the air kept their mouths shut. The two had finally gotten the chance to change since the previous night and were now dressed in clean attire from their individual overstocked wardrobes. Both sported black skin-tight, long sleeved sweatshirts under their own choice of jacket.

Ray couldn't believe it. In only a matter of sixty minutes, Bob had tried to kill himself, Gerard had had his throat ripped open by a vampire, and Mikey was dead. The enormity of the situation was staggering and had taken a while to set in, but now that it had, reality was coming full-force. This evil that was after them wasn't just making empty threats. It had the power to destroy them all; now it was only toying with them.

They'd been sitting in the waiting room for half an hour when finally the tension was more than Ray could take. He straightened up in his seat, setting his hands on his knees and letting out a long sigh. Frank gave him a quick glance, then turned back towards the floor, but not before Ray saw the small smear of eyeliner under his eye.

Rising to his feet, Ray looked across the room to where Katie and Michelle were sitting. They looked up tentatively, not sure whether to speak or not.

“Look,” Ray started, “sitting around and waiting isn't going to fix this any faster. You said it yourself, Frank -” At that, Frank turned to look at him, wiping the hair away from his eyes. “- we need to frigging do something. We have to take action. Otherwise, this is just going to go on and on until every one of us is in a body bag.”

“Then what the hell do you think we should do?” Michelle demanded.

Ray shook his head. “I don't know. At least something more productive than this.” He took a step towards the door. “If you guys need me, I'll be trying to find a way to pull this broken mess we call a team back together.”

With that, Ray walked across the room and straight into the hall, not looking back once to see if he was followed. There was no need to: the other three were still frozen in their seats when the door swung shut.

~*~


Ray stepped out onto the roof of the Silent Underground, taking a deep breath and inhaling the clean, pollutant-free air that circulated through the cavern. He needed to clear his head. The atmosphere in the medical wing had been stifling, and the hallways outside hadn't offered any more relief. Under the shade of the trees and the pale red lighting of the floodlights, he felt as though the weight on his chest were slightly lifted.

Finding a secluded glade on the left side of the path, Ray sat down to rest against the trunk of the nearest tree. He sank down into the lush grass which came up to his ankles and shivered slightly as he set his bare hands against the dew-soaked lawn. Leaning back against the base of the oak, he felt a sudden wave of grief course through him.

It wasn't your fault, he tried to tell himself. You couldn't have known. It wasn't...

Ray slammed his head against the trunk of the tree. He knew none of this was his fault, but he felt like an idiot not being able to do anything. He felt completely useless. What if they came after Frank now? Or tried to finish off Bob or Gerard? The possibilities were endless and equally conclusive. Things were only going to get worse.

“Mind if I join you?” a voice called out from Ray's right. He looked up to see Katie standing a few feet off the main path. A faint smile flickered across her face, comforting yet respectful of his grief.

“Feel free.” Ray murmured.

Her flared jeans brushing against the grass, she made her way across the lawn to the base of the tree. Ray moved over a little to give her room to sit and she dropped down onto the ground next to him. Dragging her knee up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around the top part of the calve. Her hair, wind-blown and sweeping, obscured her eyes and threw shadows over the rest of her face.

“I'm... I'm really sorry.” Katie whispered.

“Don't be.” mumbled Ray. “It's not your fault.”

“Not yours, either.”

Ray shifted uncomfortably. “I know.”

“You know it but you don't believe it.”

“If I wanted a therapist, I'd ask for one.” Ray shot.

“Sorry.”

“No, I – I'm sorry. It's just -” Ray shook his head. “This is one of those things that seems like – like it could never happen. But when it does, the effect is just...”

“Earth-shattering.” Katie finished for him.

“Yeah.”

They sat silently for a minute, just resting under the crimson half-light that filled the cavern. From where they were seated, Ray could hear the main fountain that dominated the center of the plaza. Its sound was calm and soothing, doing wonders for his aggravation and self-hatred.

“So,” Katie started. “You wanna come back inside?”

Ray smiled, and though only briefly, it felt like the first time in days. “Not right now. I think I'm just starting to feel a little bit better.”








Chapter Twenty-Seven


Frank passed in front of Michelle as he made his way down from the upper level of the medical wing and into the waiting room. He'd dried his eyes since he paid his final respects to Mikey. The experience had been more nerve-wracking than he would have expected, but he'd managed to get through it without breaking down completely.

Michelle rose out of her seat as the door to the medical wing shut. She was alone now in the dark and sterile room, with only the hum of the fluorescent lights to keep her company. It didn't make a difference; she wasn't going to be staying here anyways.

Among her numerous jobs at the Silent Underground, one of Michelle's most gruesome tasks was mortuary preparation. Since most of the SU's inhabitants were young and in good physical health, she didn't usually have much work to do. She'd only had to prepare a total of nine bodies in the last two years. Most of them were results of incidents in the field; a botched mission which had gone horribly wrong. This time, though, it felt worse than all the others. She hadn't known any of the people she'd prepared for burial before, but now...

Suck it up, she told herself. You barely knew him. Yet, she still felt a strange connection to him. A closeness she didn't normally develop with anyone until they'd proven themselves time and time again. Not only with Mikey, but with all of them. She didn't understand it. Why were these five so different?

The staircase up to the second level seemed to go on forever as Michelle lost herself in her own thoughts, trying to piece together the dark mystery that was unraveling around her. The walls echoed with the sound of her boots on the concrete steps, sending forlorn cries down the vacant hall that only ended up returning to her. It poked at her already festering mental wounds and she tried to shove the empty noise out of her head. Her efforts did little good.

Michelle reached the door to the last room down the hallway. It was unlocked yet shut, as she knew it should be. As Frank had left it.

He didn't even get a chance to say goodbye, Michelle thought suddenly.

Feeling her eyes begin to water, she wiped the sleeve of her jacket across her face.

Keep it together.

Setting her hand on the polished metal doorknob, she felt a shiver go up her spine. Just the cold, she tried to tell herself. She stepped into the room cautiously, as if expecting something to jump out and attack her.

Instead, she found the Silent Underground's morgue completely empty and quiet, devoid of any movement or life. The walls were covered in drab gray tiles that glinted slightly in the room's eerie glow, emanating over the black-and-white linoleum that covered the floor. The entire room was roughly the size of two of the complex's dormitories and seemed hauntingly vacant. It always did.

Six stainless steel beds were laid out across the room. Tables of forensics tools and embalming chemicals were set next to them, each coupled with an adjacent sink for instrument cleaning. The furthest five were bare, revealing nothing more than their own slicked surfaces that shined under the overhead lighting. The nearest, however, was covered with a heavy white sheet that draped down around either side of the the ice cold slab. And underneath it -

Michelle had to look away. She knew what was there, and that sooner than later, she'd have to look anyway. Might as well delay it as long as possible.

Taking a thin strip of black cloth band from her front pocket, she pulled the mass of her hair back behind her head and bound it together in a dense ponytail. A few curls still hung free around her face, which she shook aside with the toss of her head.

She made her way over to the corner of the room, where a small sink was built into the wall. Michelle soaked her hands in the warm water that poured from the faucet, letting it wash away the dirt and grime that had accumulated on her hands and under her fingernails. She went through the routine process of soap, rinse, repeat three times in accordance to the Silent Underground's health regulations.

Why, I have no idea, she thought as she dried her hands under the machine on her right. I'm going to have my hands covered anyway.

Snapping on a pair of gloves from the nearby box, Michelle glanced back at the table near the entrance to the room. She saw Mikey's outline underneath the spartan white cloth and shuddered. Every time she thought about what had happened, she realized more and more that this was her fault.

If she'd only run for help when he'd woken up in the exam room, he wouldn't have even known anything was wrong. Gerard might have died, but even now, there was still a chance of that, too. Mikey wouldn't have had to sacrifice himself.

He was doing what he thought was right. He knew Danny was in trouble and he was going to help him.

But then Michelle remembered the park. Mikey had known what was wrong then. She could have insisted he brought help, or she could have gone with him. Anything that would have kept him from going alone.

Again, he was being courageous, she thought. Gerard was in danger and he knew he had to do something. He didn't think about his own safety for one second.

Michelle felt a tear course down her cheek. She knew why these five were different. She knew what set them apart. If only it hadn't taken tragedy to teach her.

She turned around completely to face the table. It was as though she was waiting for something. But for what? Did she expect him to move? To twitch under that formaldehyde-soaked sheet?

Eventually, she looked away again. She didn't know how well she'd make it through this, but she had to try. Michelle had never prepared anyone she'd known and didn't have any idea how much of an effect it would have on her mental health. Less than most would think, she tried to tell herself. You've experienced this kind of thing before. It's not like it's the first time you've seen someone you care about die.

That made her choke back tears. Through this entire ordeal, she'd tried to keep her mind off her past, to look towards the future. Instead, she found herself facing her grim history head on and remembering everything. That miserable fairytale of a life she'd led and what had become of it. What led her to become a hunter.

Michelle stopped herself from thinking about it. This wasn't the time or the place. She had a job and she needed to do it.

Reaching for the pair of plastic-framed glasses in her back pocket, she was suddenly caught off-guard as a faint, hushed voice whispered her name. She looked up quickly to see who had called her, but she saw no one. Turning back towards the room, she found it as empty and lifeless as it had been before.

Where did that- she started to think when she heard it again. Her head whipped around to face the door, but she saw it was still closed. No voice could travel that clearly through an industrial-strength door.

No, she suddenly thought, horrified. Her eyes were wide with fear. I can't be going insane. I can't...

“Michelle?”

Michelle froze. The sound had come from within the room, not outside. Her head spun around, hoping to glimpse who had spoken.

The glasses in her hand fell free and shattered on the floor as her fingers went numb. The muscles in her arms and legs had become so stiff that it seemed they would break if she tried to move. All the while, her face was a mask of shock and terror, her fear unabashed in her shadow-darkened complexion.

On the table directly in front of her, skin paled by the abrasive overhead lighting, sat Mikey. He had propped himself up so that his upper body was raised off the cold steel bed. His bare torso was tinted a light red from the stain of his own blood and the flesh around his wound had become darker, but other than that, he seemed fully alive.

“Michelle?” He looked at her with confusion. “Are you alright?”

Michelle couldn't speak. She'd seen him dead with her own two eyes.
How was it possible?

It isn't, she thought. I am going crazy.

Mikey made a move to step off the table, but Michelle lurched backwards. Her shoes crunched on the fragments of the lenses underfoot and snapped the glasses' plastic frame.

“Michelle, take it easy. It's me.” His eyes were pleading.

He's not real, she tried to tell herself. You're hallucinating.

But as he slid off the cold, sterile bed, his movement seemed so living and real that she found it impossible to think he was a mirage. His feet hit the ground without a sound, and as his legs slipped off and free of the entangling white sheet, Michelle found herself letting out an unexpected scream.

“GET AWAY!” she shrieked.

Mikey stopped. Seeing her cowering against the wall caused him to hesitate. Something's seriously wrong, he thought worriedly.

“D-don't come any closer.” Michelle stammered, inching along the wall away from him. Unfortunately, it led her further from the door.

“Michelle, it's me. Mikey.” He tried to reach a hand out to her. “Please -”

“NO!” Now within striking distance, Michelle lashed out with her foot and struck Mikey in the shin, causing him to stumble long enough for her to make a run for it. She had already made it halfway to the other side of the room when he called out again through a series of choked gasps.

“Michelle! Wait!”

Michelle had reached the far wall and spun around to face him. Now forty feet of hauntingly lit morgue stood between them. She only wished the room were more crowded.

She saw him struggle to his feet, leaning against the wall for support. One hand was held over his injured ankle, clutching it in vain attempt to reduce the stinging pain.

“Michelle...” Mikey started. He staggered to his feet.

“Don't come any closer!” she cried.

“Please. I'm not going to hurt you.”

Michelle backed up further into the chamber's darkened corner. She crawled along the wall carefully, doing her best to put as much distance between herself and him.

Mikey's dead, Michelle thought, horrified. Whatever this thing is, it's not him.

She gasped as her back pressed against a small, pointed protrusion in the wall. It took her a nanosecond to realize she had hit the light switch, but by then it was already too late. Instantly, the morgue was thrown into utter darkness, completely blinding Michelle.

At least he can't see if I can't. But her hopes were dashed when she heard the sound of bare feet pounding on the linoleum floor.

Michelle didn't have a chance to react before she felt a pair of hands wrap around her shoulders in a vice-like grip. She let out a shrill cry, only to be stifled by his arms as he crossed them around her stomach, pinning her at the elbows and forcing the air from her lungs.

“Michelle, calm down.” he coaxed her.

Her breathing was ragged. She couldn't move as he drew her closer. The denim of his jeans rubbed against the skin on her leg, and through the fabric of her shirt she could feel his chest heaving with adrenaline.

“Mikey...” Michelle whimpered.

“I'm not going to hurt you.” he whispered in her ear.

Michelle shook with fear. The slim rays of blood red light that seeped through the narrow windows at the end of the room etched morbid, wraith-like shadows over the terrifying scene.

“Y-you -” she stuttered, “H-how are you alive?”

“What?”

“How are you still alive?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn't be?”

“B-but you were...” Michelle stammered. “You were dead.”

Mikey went silent. She felt his grip on her slacken.

“What are you talking about?”

“Mikey, something happened and -” She trembled, not sure how to tell him. “You were killed. You've been dead for over two hours.”

The arms around Michelle's body fell away. Even in the stifling darkness of the morgue, she could sense the stun on Mikey's face. Hesitantly, not sure if he would try to stop her or not, she reached for the lights. Her fingers touched the plastic switch, then flipped it on, reilluminating the cavernous room.

Michelle turned around, coming face-to-face with Mikey. He looked panicked and scared. His arms, which looked even skinnier than usual, were shaking at his sides.

“I don't remember...” Mikey began. “How? How did I die?”

“You were bitten.” she murmured, pointing at the tear on his neck.

He looked down and saw the edges of the wound. It was then that Michelle noticed the sever color change that had taken place in the last couple minutes. What had just been gangrenous, purple flesh was now a smooth and glassy black. The two puncture marks on his artery were as white as pearl and stood out sharply against the surrounding skin.

Then she realized it. She realized why he had died and why he had come back. Why he was still breathing.

“Y-your infected.” Michelle breathed.

Mikey shook his head in disbelief. His eyes were wide with horror. “No. I can't be. I-I can't. Michelle -” He took a step forward, but she backed away.

“Please,” she whispered. “Please don't come any closer.”

“Michelle, it's me. I swear, I'm not gonna hurt you.”

“How can I trust you? You're one of them now.”

“I promise you, I'd never -”

“That doesn't matter now.” Michelle cut him off. “It doesn't matter what you were like before. It's going to change you. You're going to, whether you want to or not.”

He tried to move closer. “Michelle, I -”

“STAY BACK!”

Michelle bolted. She dashed across the room as fast as she could towards the door, dodging around the tables and towards her destination. She was only a few yards from her goal when a hand grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her backwards. Striking out, her leg made contact with one of the solid steel legs on the slab.

“LET GO OF ME!” she shrieked.

“Stop, I just -”

Before Mikey saw her even reach for it, Michelle lashed out with the scalpel she'd taken off the nearest tray. The medical blade struck with deadly precision into Mikey's stomach, spraying a fountain of ink-like blood across his chest. His grip on her arm loosened and she pulled free, only to find herself completely mesmerized by the oily slime dripping from the cut. She stood unmoving, watching as he stumbled backwards, clutching the frothing wound with a shaking hand.

So transfixed was she by the grisly river pouring out of his skin that she didn't even notice as the whites of his eyes changed slowly from their healthy state to an ungodly shade of black. A horrible, primordial malevolence brewed just beneath the cloud of darkness, overcoming the synapses of his brain and filling him with an alien hunger. A hunger he would soon become far too familiar with.

Bloodlust.

Michelle didn't even have a chance to move before Mikey's arms flew out towards her. From his previous stance, he only had enough altitude to reach her knees, but it was all he needed to drag her to the ground. Unable to fight the inhuman strength he had obtained, she fell haphazardly onto the floor in front of him.

“NO!” she screamed, so loudly it pierced the room's massive concrete walls. She thrashed wildly as he pulled her towards him, but it did little good. In his state of insanity, the pain of the kicks didn't even pass through his skin. He dragged her backwards until she was directly underneath him, her terrified amber eyes staring up into his hollow sockets.

Pressing his knee into her stomach, Mikey drove what little air remained in her lungs out through her throat and into the dead air of the morgue. She whimpered pitifully, beating at him uselessly with her fists. He brushed her arms aside easily, leaning down over her neck as a spider would bend over its helpless victim. With one hand, he seized her throat and pressed her head down against the linoleum floor, leaving the soft skin around her carotid artery turned up towards the ceiling. She shut her eyes. His breath was so faint that she barely felt the warmth on her neck before she felt the first p***k of his fangs on her skin.

But the bite never came. Michelle lay there, waiting for it to happen, praying she would at least die quickly. Instead, she stayed perfectly still for what felt like an eternity. The light sensation of the dagger-like teeth on her flesh was paralyzing, and it seemed like hours before she finally opened her eyes.

Staring back at her, brown eyes filled with abomination, was Mikey. He pulled back slowly, unable to speak. His mouth, agape with horror, clearly revealed the unstained tips of his fangs. He retracted the hand that had been wrapped around her throat and lifted his knee, allowing her to intake a sharp, pained breath.

“I – I didn't -” Mikey stuttered. He rose to his feet, almost unable to look her in the eye for fear of seeing the terror he knew he'd find there.

Michelle watched him silently. She lay sprawled over the floor, watching him as if expecting him to say something. Something he knew for a fact couldn't come out of his blood-parched throat. He just stared at her.

A heavy knocking on the door shattered the death-like silence. Mikey's head snapped up to face the entrance into the morgue. Both he and Michelle could hear the frantic voices on the other side of the door.

Mikey glanced at Michelle one last time and she met his eyes, staring back with a defiance and hatred that almost made him sick. As much as he wanted to take back what he'd just done, he knew he couldn't. He was responsible for his own actions. And so he did the only thing he could think of. He ran.

In less than three seconds, Mikey had reached the back of the morgue again. He threw open the small overhead window and had climbed up and out before Michelle could say another word. The only trace of him that remained was the narrow trail of ink-black blood in his wake.

Offline
Chapters 28-30


Chapter Twenty-Eight


“Are you sure you're alright?” Katie asked as she stood next to Michelle.

“For the hundredth time, yes.” Michelle insisted.

They were in the middle of the waiting room again. Katie had no idea how often she'd been in here in the past few hours, but she was getting sick of it. Ray and Frank were beside them as well, though neither of them seemed to be able to fully grasp the situation.

“I don't get it,” Frank murmured, shaking his head. “Why would Mikey do something like that?”

“Frank, he's not himself anymore.” Katie said, turning towards him.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“What the hell am I talking about? What do you think? He's a vampire now.”

“But that doesn't mean he's... I mean he's not automatically...”

Katie didn't say anything. She just gave him a pitying look.

“Where do you think he'll go now?” asked Ray.

“I don't know.” she admitted. “He hasn't eaten since his change. Odds are he'll be hungry, which means...” She stopped herself.

Frank swore quietly, running a nervous hand across his neck. Ray fell completely silent, averting his gaze from the others in the room.

“We've waited too long to try and catch up with him.” Michelle muttered. “He could be halfway out of New York by now.”

“It's only been ten minutes.” Frank scoffed. “Unless he's in a car, he can't have covered more than a mile.”

“A mile in a city this big is a long ways.” Katie sighed.

There was a brief silence. Then Michelle spoke up, asking what all the others had been thinking in the back of their minds.

“Who's going to tell Gerard?”

The other three looked at her for a second, not sure what to say. Gerard was still in intensive care, recovering from the blood loss and giving his skin time to heal. None of them wanted to be the one to tell him, but they knew that one of them would. That's when Ray straightened up.

“I'll tell him.” he volunteered. “And I know how hard he's gonna take it but... I have to tell him the truth.”

“Ray... are you sure that's a good -” Katie started.

“If it's a good idea?” finished Ray. “No, not really. But it's the right thing to do. Gerard has a right to know what happened to his brother, and he's going to find out one way or another. And besides, it's the only idea I've got.”

It took a few seconds, but eventually the rest of the group nodded in consent. They all knew Ray was right.

The sound of a door opening in the back of the medical wing caused their heads to swivel in union to the origin of the sound. They saw Kelly step out of Bob's room, clipboard in one hand and a pair of clean white medical gloves in the other.

“How's he doing?” Frank asked immediately.

Kelly gave a weak smile. “Bob's blood pressure's back to normal and we have both cuts sewn shut. A day or two's rest should be enough to have him fully functional again. Unfortunately, we will have to keep him in custody for at least another week.”

“What?”

“The SU's medical regulations require, at minimum, a seven day recovery period for any form of attempted suicide. We need to monitor mental stability, check for any history of psychotic illness or previous attempts to take his own life -”

“You think he's done this before?” Ray demanded.

“We have no way of knowing for sure,” Kelly said, flipping through a few pages on her clipboard, “but at his age, it's likely that he's made similar attempts in the past. Random suicidal urges at twenty-six aren't very common.”

“He's never tired to kill himself.” muttered Frank.”

“Still, we cant be too careful.” Kelly tucked the clipboard under her arm. “I'll be back in a few minutes if you want to talk.” She ducked out of the waiting room and into the main hall, leaving the other four staring off into the darkness beyond.

~*~


Kelly made her way down the wood-paneled corridor, walking swiftly and decisively with her goal clear in mind. Something was wrong. All of Bob's psyche tests to date, including ones prior to today, showed no abnormalities or fluctuations. Even the exams during recovery revealed everything as it was supposed to be.

Certainly not characteristics of someone prone to suicide, Kelly thought. Her thoughts broke away for a second as she passed another woman in the hall, giving her a nod in greeting and stepping to the side to let her through. Then she was on her way again, her thoughts turning the situation over and over in her mind.

By the time she reached the door at the end of the hall, the mystery was almost too much. The solution seemed to be hovering directly in front of her, but every time she reached for it, it would jump just out of reach. So it only made sense that she return to the sight of Bob's breakdown to search for an answer.

The main room of the dormitory was so silent that Kelly felt as though she'd gone deaf. All the beds were still in the state of disorder they'd been in before, and as she rounded the nearest one and came into sight of the bathroom, she spotted a series of bloodstains on either side of the room. On her right, the dent in the wall remained speckled with crimson drops, trickling down to the floor below where it pooled along the wall, then merged with a matching streak that led to a coagulated pool in the center of the floor. To her left, a wide-spread puddle of burgundy blood was spread out across the oak floorboards, seeping down through the cracks and disappearing.

It wasn't a secret where the gore had come from; Kelly knew all too well. But it wasn't this room that she was interested in. Not right now.

Only six feet in front of her, the door to the bathroom stood wide and gaping, giving full view into the maroon-soaked chamber beyond. The words on the mirror were still there, having dried quickly and proving too much of a hassle to clean as they were so ensnared by jagged glass. All over the floor and the sink, fragments of the vanity were littered like hail, casting tiny rays of prismatic color over the crimson sea.

Kelly slid her hands into the gloves and set the clipboard on the nearest bed. She glanced back into the bathroom and sighed.

What are you looking for? She thought. What do you expect to find that you didn't see before?

“Something that doesn't belong.” Kelly murmured. She brushed a strand of bubblegum-pink hair out of her eyes and wiped a small smudge off her glasses. Now or never, she told herself. And before she could talk herself out of it, she stepped straight into the washroom.

The smell of the blood was overpowering, and for a second, Kelly felt as though she were about to pass out. But she forced herself to stay conscious, knowing that a fall onto the piercing glass below would be more painful than the stench. The glass under her feet cracked and snapped as she made her way across the room. She could feel a moist sensation in her socks as the fluid on the floor seeped through the soles of her shoes.

Another thing to tack onto my shopping list, she thought begrudgingly. The curdled blood stuck like glue to the bottom of her shoes and stayed frozen in place where she had stepped, revealing her footprints in a clearly defined path across the cerise wasteland.

Kelly eyed the damaged surface of the mirror. Though nothing appeared out of place, she couldn't shake the feeling there was something among the scarlet-stained wreckage she was missing. A piece of evidence so small yet significant that overlooking it could seal the fate of this mystery forever.

And then she saw it. The chances had to have been a million-to-one at best. To spot something so tiny amid the slew of glass and blood was nothing short of miraculous. Kelly was sure that she could have searched the room for days and never spotted it. That she could have never found it if she'd actually tried. But as fate would have it, her eyes happened to glance the right pinprick of glass at the perfect second, and in the full, flickering light of the bathroom, she saw it.

Nearly hidden beneath the shadow of the sink, its edges slicked with brittle drops of blood, was a perfectly carved, toothpick-sized sliver of obsidian crystal. Completely coated in a crimson paint, it was practically impossible to discern it from the encircling sea of glass. But in that instant Kelly saw it, and before she could loss in in the surrounding debris, she crouched down to the floor and picked it up.

She fingered the fragment gingerly, being careful not to accidentally snap the narrow splinter. With her thumb, she wiped away the blood that was stuck to the surface, sweeping it clean and revealing the ink-black crystal beneath.

There's no way in hell that came from the mirror, Kelly thought, turning the object over in her hand.

It was then that she noticed the shallow cuts on the edges of the slender shard. They looked so intricately cut that she first though she was imagining things, but when she held the glass closer to her eyes and saw that the gouges were indeed there. The marks seemed to form some kind of shape, but she couldn't put her figure out exactly what they were supposed to be.

Kelly folded her gloved hand over the crystal and slipped it into the pocket of her lab coat. It'll come to you eventually, she told herself. Try not to lose any sleep over it.

Her eyes swept over the bathroom again. That feeling of missing something was gone now. Whatever she was looking for, she'd found it. Now she just needed to find out what it was.








Chapter Twenty-Nine


The clock on the wall read “10:28 AM” as Mikey stepped through the front door of the tavern. His face was hidden by the hood of the baggy sweatshirt he wore and his hands were concealed in a pair of brown leather gloves. As he passed across the threshold, he coughed as he inhaled a deep breath of the second-hand smoke that circulated through the darkened room. His legs were shaking as he crossed the floor, causing him to wobble off-balance. The tavern's other early-morning patrons gave him a few glances, but dismissed his behavior as nothing more than drunken stupor.

Mikey staggered to the edge of the bar, grasping onto the copper rail that ran its length to keep from falling. He slid onto the nearest stool, taking the pressure off his legs and allowing himself to calm down.

“Can I get you anything?” a voice called out suddenly from behind the bar.

Mikey jumped a little, caught off-guard by the sound. “W-what?” he stammered, looking up nervously into the face of the man in front of him.

“Can I get you anything?” the bartender repeated.

“Water.” Mikey mumbled.

The man disappeared, then returned a second later with a glass of ice water in his hand.

“Thank you.” Mikey said, faking a smile. He took the glass and downed half of it in one swig, then set it on the counter. The bartender gave him a look, then made his way over to the other end of the bar, leaving Mikey alone on that side of the room.

He slumped down against the counter, resting his head on his arms. The hunger in his stomach now felt like it was gnawing through his gut. He fought to keep his arms from trembling, but he felt them shudder through the folds of the sweatshirt.

You must look like a psychopath, he thought angrily, pulling the hood down away from his head. Then again, maybe that wasn't far from the truth. He'd nearly killed Michelle, and what's worse, he hadn't regretted it. At least, not at the time. He ran a hand over the cut across his stomach.

The wound had healed inhumanly fast, and now all that remained of it was a sticky patch of tar-like blood and the residue it had left on his shirt. He retracted his hand carefully, not wanting to pull at the lacerated flesh. The blood that stuck to his fingers he wiped off inside the pocket of his sweatshirt, making sure his hand was clean before bringing it into view of anyone who might happen to glance in his direction. But it wasn't the cut that was bothering him.

Every time he felt the slit, he remembered the look of betrayal and hurt in Michelle's eyes. The very first thing he'd seen after coming to his senses was her face, filled with loathing and fear. Not like you can blame her, he thought, taking another drink of water. You were going to kill her. You would have, if it weren't for...

Mikey narrowed his eyes.

Now that he thought about it, he didn't know why he hadn't killed her. What had stopped him? Was it mercy? Had he somehow managed to keep enough of his humanity that he could still feel compassion?

A soft humming dragged Mikey out of his thoughts. He turned his head nonchalantly to look across the room. There were only thirteen other people in the establishment. Three men playing pool in the center of the tavern, the bartender, a girl seated at the other end of the bar who looked suspiciously under-age, and a group of college kids who were split up between two booths on the opposite side of the room. However, it was the thirteenth patron that caught his eye.

She was seated on the furthest end of the tavern, in the deepest side of the corner booth. A hood of black lace covered almost every inch of her face, revealing only the lightest parts of her hauntingly dark eyes and a few strands of ebony hair. A jade green corset was wrapped around her midsection, its lack of sleeves revealing the dark mesh gloves on her hands. In her right hand, she held a snow white cigarette between her fingers, tapping it lightly into the nearby ashtray to clean it off. Her left hand was wound around one of several shot glasses set on the table. But more than any of those things, he noticed the subtle movement of her lips as she sung a familiar song so quietly that Mikey scarcely heard it.

Something about the melody was hypnotizing, and without realizing it, Mikey rose from his seat and made his way across the room. As he approached the back booth, the woman in green took a drag on her cigarette. She blew the smoke out through her mouth in a pillar of lethal chemicals, her vibrant eyes watching playfully as the wisp spiraled up into the musty air. Her eyes...

Mikey noticed something he hadn't seen at a distance. Her eyes, as stunning as they were, were not just dark, but completely devoid of color. They were black sockets carved into her gaunt face, lit only by the dim glow of light that was cast from somewhere within her skull. Then realization dawned on him.

Sitting down on the seat opposite her, Mikey fixed her with an infuriated glare. She continued to hum in a mesmerizing voice, completely oblivious to his presence. It took her a few moments to notice him, but when she did, she beamed innocently.

“May I help you?” she said, smiling sweetly.

“Cut the s**t.” Mikey growled. “I know who you are.”

She set the nearly extinguished cigarette into the ashtray. “And who might that be?”

“You're the one that's after us, aren't you? You're the one that's trying to kill us.”

She laughed, waving her free hand in his direction. “You of all people should know I'm doing more than 'trying'.”

“Who are you and what the hell do you want with us?” Mikey demanded, balling his fists in plain view on the tabletop.

“Why Michael,” she sneered, “I thought you knew that already.”

Mikey didn't respond. He just sat there, staring defiantly into her hollow eyes.

“Very well. My name is Kendra.” the woman in green forfeited. “Though you may not know of me, I'm sure at least one of your friends has had something of a 'run-in' with my sister. Does the name Nashome mean anything to you?”

“It rings a bell.” Mikey half-lied. He knew exactly who she was talking about. How could he forget what Frank had told him?

“Figures.” Kendra spat. “I do all the work and dear sister gets the notoriety.”

“All what work?”

Kendra looked at him with a stunned expression on her darkened face. “Why, the extermination of the hunters, of course. My God, Mikey. Had you really not noticed?”

Mikey's eyes went wide. “You're the one?”

“In the flesh.” Kendra chuckled.

“You son of a b***h.” Mikey hissed. She saw him make a move to lunge, but she held up a hand.

“Take it easy, darling. There's a lot of witnesses in a place like this.” She took a delicate sip from the shot glass in her left hand.

“You don't think I could kill them too? I'll have you know I could slaughter every worthless piece of s**t in this tavern before they even -” Mikey stopped, seeing the malicious smile spreading across Kendra's face.

“What -” he started. Then suddenly, the look of fury on his face changed to fear as he realized what he'd just said.

“No...” he murmured, hardly able to believe what had just come out of his own mouth.

“Well well.” Kendra reached into the pocket of her jeans and withdrew a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “Looks like somebody's getting in touch with their dark side.”

“I – I didn't...” he stammered.

Mikey felt a hand wrap around his arm and pull him closer. The feigned sincerity in Kendra's eyes made him want to kill her. But he knew what she was and he wasn't about to risk what was left of his life on a reckless move.

Now only a few inches of seat separated him from Kendra. Her grip on his arm felt like ice through the sweatshirt, and at this proximity, he could feel the death-like cold emanating from her body all over his skin. As she took a new cigarette from the pack in her hand, he saw a patch of frost appear where her skeletal fingers touched the paper.

“You want one?” Kendra asked, having noticed him eying the pack with a wary expression.

“What the hell.” Mikey snatched the package and took out two of the brown-wrapped sticks. “Not like I've got a life left to lose.”

“Oh how right you are.” she laughed, downing another shot. She raised a cigarette to her lips. Cupping her hand around its tip, she hid from the tavern's other inhabitants the spark of blue flame that arose magically out of the palm of her hand. Only Mikey saw the small tongue of fire appear then disappear back into her skin, lighting the cigarette then vanishing without a trace.

Mikey just sat there, staring off into space, holding the unlit sticks limply between his fingers. A strange sensation of helplessness had overcome him. He was sitting less than a foot away from the person who had thrown his life into a living hell, had threatened his friends, hurt them, and nearly killed them, and all he was doing was sitting down for a smoke with her. With disgust, he dropped the cigarettes onto the tabletop without another thought.

“I have a proposition for you, Mikey.” Kendra said suddenly. She gave Mikey what could have been interpreted as a friendly smile, but he saw past her mask and into her soulless eyes.

“If I remember correctly, the last 'proposition' I made got me killed and turned me into a frigging vampire.”

She shrugged. “Melody hardly gave you a choice.”

“You know about Melody?” asked Mikey.

“Know about her?” Kendra laughed, emitting a sinister monstrous growl from her throat at the same time and infusing her voice with a hideous edge. “Mikey, Melody's been under my control every moment since you met her. Whether she knows it or not, the vampire blood that runs through her veins is always in control. It's the same with every one of them. Including yourself.”

Mikey looked down at his own hands, as if staring through the gloves, past his skin, and into his bloodstream. He could feel the acrid slime pumping through him like molasses, so slow that he couldn't even feel his heart beat. If he even had a heart anymore.

“As I was saying,” Kendra continued, “I have a proposition for you.”

“I'm listening.”

“I'm sure by now you know about the war?”

Mikey shook his head. “I know about it, but all of us are still pretty much in the dark.”

“Really? Well, I'll sum things up for you; in little over a week, we will be launching a revolution. For too long, Hell has been held under God's oppressive boot, restricted and unable to claim our rightful thrones. We, the dwellers of Hell and the otherworld, are the most powerful creatures in existence. More powerful than the angels. But because of humanity's faith, we've been trapped in darkness and the time has come to change that.

“This war that is coming is not just another battle. It is the war. The war that will decide the fate of humankind. That will prove once and for all that Hell is more powerful than Heaven. That will finally condemn the angels and saints to the darkness they deserve. This is the war to end all wars.” She paused. “This is Armageddon.”

Mikey didn't speak for a second. As everything she was saying began to soak in, a question dawned in his head.

“So... what does this have to do with us? With me?”

“You must understand, Mikey, hunters are a lot more dangerous to us than they realize. With your knowledge of how to kill my warriors, how to block our enchantments, and even exorcise us, it would be incredibly easy for a group as small as yours to spread your knowledge to the entire planet, and pretty soon, every human on Earth will have been employed into the ranks of Heaven. The last thing we need is to let our enemy recruit another six billion soldiers.”

“So we're nothing special then?” Mikey asked. “Just another group of hunters that needs to be exterminated?”

Kendra smiled. “That's what I thought at first. My sister had warned me about your friend, but it's not like I believe anything she says. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, she's lying for attention, but it looks like she was right for once.

“I don't know what it is about you five, but for some reason, I am having the hardest time killing you. The rest of Earth's finest went down so easily that I suppose I got my hopes up. Hell, a few of them willingly joined us. But you... you guys are posing a lot more of a threat than we bargained for.”

“I guess I should be flattered.” muttered Mikey, drumming his fingers on the table.

“Anyway, I'm trying to offer you a great opportunity, Mikey. For you and your friends.”

“For some reason, I'm guessing whatever it is, there's going to be a catch.”

“No catch.” Kendra said, waving her cigarette through the air. “Just my conditions and yours.”

“And those would be...?”

“I will spare all their lives, let them live without taint or possession, in exchange for your help.”

“My help?” Mikey didn't like the sound of what she was suggesting. “With what?”

“As you are now aware, this war is not going to be any laughing matter. Hell needs all the help it can get, and right now, that's you.”

Mikey looked at her like she was insane. “Are you kidding me?”

“This is no joke.”

“You honestly think I'd fight for Hell? Against everything and everyone I've always defended?”

“If you care about your friends, yes.”

“This has nothing to do with whether I care about them or not.” Mikey growled. “You're asking me to turn against every ideal I've ever stood for, to fight alongside every despicable creature I've ever killed. Do you have any idea what you're expecting me to do?”

“Of course.” she grinned. “I wouldn't be asking if I didn't.”

He gave her a menacing glare. “Forget it. I'm not going to kill anyone for you.”

Kendra sighed. “Mikey, you need to listen to reason. With or without your help, Hell will triumph. For the sake of your friends and yourself, please consider my offer.”

She ran a finger over the back of his hand, and instantly, a feeling like a thousand icy daggers tearing through him gouged into his skin. He fought the urge to cry out and watched in mute silence as Kendra rose to leave.

“Just call if you change you mind.” she said, turning to walk away.

“Don't worry. I won't.” Mikey said, glowering at her.

“Heh. We'll see.” Kendra ambled across the room to the bar, where she paid off her tab, then made her way to the tavern's entrance. Opening the door, she stepped out into the dull gray streets outside and disappeared from sight.

As the door swung shut, Mikey began to feel a burning sensation on the skin of his hand. Peeling away the glove that covered it, he brought his flesh into the light of the bar and nearly choked on his own breath. Sitting there, emblazoned into his skin like a brand, was the Blood Icon, its edges still glowing like the embers of a dying fire.

Mikey swore, quickly throwing the glove back on and concealing the hellish symbol. As the seam of the fabric passed over it, a searing hot pain tore through him and he cried out in agony.

The tavern went silent. Its patrons turned to look at him as if expecting him to say something in apology for disturbing their conversations. Instead, he sunk down lower into the cushion of the booth, trying vainly to feel invisible in the awkward situation. He clutched his burning left hand, trying to apply enough pressure in hopes that maybe the pain would go away. Instead, it only intensified and a blast of agony tore through his head.

Before he knew what was happening, he felt a strange twitch in his spine and fell forward, his head colliding with the tabletop. For that split-second before unconsciousness consumed him, he heard the panicked voices of the bar's patrons, slurred in his foggy mind. And the last thing he saw before he passed out was the blurry, smoke-filtered light of the tavern, obscured by the darkened face of the red-haired girl that was leaning over him.

~*~


Mikey awoke to the cold caress of wind against his skin. His eyelids fluttered open slowly, his body unaccustomed to the strange lighting. When his eyes were fully open, he found himself staring into a slate gray sky, with drops of rain falling down onto his face. He was lying on his back, arms at his sides and legs stretched out in front of him.

The sudden sound of movement behind him caused Mikey to jump into action, jumping to his feet and spinning around with superhuman speed. His right arm shot out and grabbed the figure now in front of him by the collar, driving them into the brick wall only a foot to his left. She screamed, bringing him to consciousness a second before his fist smashed into her face.

The girl pinned up against the wall looked back at Mikey through terrified pale blue eyes. She shook with fear, her coiled, shoulder-length red hair shaking as she trembled. By the looks of her face, deathly pale and gaunt, he knew she couldn't have been any older than sixteen. She whimpered in pain, and Mikey realized that his grip on her shirt was cutting off her circulation and he quickly released her.

“I-I'm so sorry.” Mikey stammered. “Are you alright?”

She coughed for a second, then nodded. “Y-y-yeah. I'm fine.” Staggering a little, she gave him a weak smile. “I'm glad to see you're okay.”

Mikey glanced around. The two were in the back alley behind the tavern. On one side, the alley ended at a steep brick facade three stories tall, while in the other direction, the passage led out into the busy street beyond.

“M-my name's Cassie.” the girl said. It was then that he recognized her as the young girl that had been sitting at the bar. Mikey wasn't going to say anything, but he saw her looking at him expectedly and he replied,

“Mikey.” he murmured.

“How's your hand?” Cassie asked.

“What?” He looked down at his left hand and saw the bandages wrapped around it.

“Is it feeling any better?” she asked protectively.

“Y-yeah. Thank you.”

“If it's alright of me to ask...” Cassie paused, as if not sure if she should bring it up, “what is it?”

“I-it's nothing.” Mikey lied, shoving his hand into the pocket of his sweatshirt.

Cassie nodded nervously. He couldn't blame her for being slightly scared. She was alone in a dark alley with a man ten years older than her who she must have assumed had OD-ed on something in the tavern. Not to mention the fact that he had almost choked her upon waking. Now that he thought about it, she was managing to stay a lot more calm than most people her age.

But something about Cassie's attitude, how she carried herself and how she addressed the situation, displayed a maturity far beyond her years. At that point, Mikey hadn't really taken a chance to look at her yet. As she stood there, trying to come up with something to break the silence, he felt as though he had just as good of chance of running into her in the Silent Underground as on the streets of New York.

The light skin around Cassie's eyes was darkened by heavy layers of eyeliner, and her upper lids were painted with lavender eyeshadow. Huge golden hoop earrings hung down from the lobes of her ears, matching the ring through her left eyebrow and the stud on her lower lip. She was wearing a black and purple, laced-up tank top around her torso and a pair of belted bondage pants. Almost hidden by the legs of the pants, her dark, high-heeled boots just barely stuck out under the layers of fabric.

“Would you like me to take you to the hospital? To have that looked at?” Cassie finally asked, ending the awkward pause. She nodded at the wound on his hand.

“Are you even old enough to drive?” Mikey asked dubiously.

“I got my license a few months ago.” she smiled. “My car's parked a block or so from here. I can get you there in no time.”

“That's nice of you to offer, but... you don't even know me. Wouldn't your parents be pissed if they knew you gave a twenty-some year old stranger a ride?”

“They couldn't care less.” Cassie murmured, turning her head towards the ground.

“Oh.” Mikey didn't know what else to say.

“So you want a ride?” she asked again.

“I'd appreciate it, but... I'll have to pass.”

“Really?” Cassie looked disappointed.

“It's nothing against you, but I feel strange taking a ride from you and barely knowing you.”

“The hospital's only a couple of miles from here. It's not that far of a drive.”

“No, really. I can walk.”

A sudden bolt of lightning tore across the sky in perfect unison with the accompanying clap of thunder, shaking the ground around them and causing the surrounding brick walls to shudder. Cassie looked up towards the darkening sky fearfully, as if waiting for something to happen. A few of the rain drops fell across her skin and trickled down her face, but the light shower wasn't enough to make her turn away.

“The weather might be getting worse...” she insisted.

“Really, it's -” Mikey's words cut off as, without warning, the light drizzle falling from the clouds turned instantaneously into a torrential downpour. He felt soaked to the bone almost immediately, and as the ice cold rain ripped into him, Cassie gave him a sarcastic glance through the sheets of water.

“Last chance.” she grinned.

Mikey stood there for a second, then gave in. “Alright,” he said, shaking his head. “But if you only got your license a couple of months ago, I reserve the right to backseat drive.”

“Feel free.” Cassie motioned for him to follow her out of the alley. He obliged, more than ready to get out of the drenching rain.

The New York streets, even in this part of town at this time of day, were busy and bustling. Headlights sliced through the sheets of driving rain, piercing the darkness and casting their glow over the dreary streets. Mikey pulled the hood of his sweatshirt up and over his head. It wasn't so much to block the downpour as to ward off the feeling of vulnerability he felt with his face visible. He knew there'd be people looking for him soon if there weren't already and he didn't want to take any chances.

“It's over here.” Cassie called to Mikey, who'd wandered a few steps further down the street. She was standing beside a gray sedan that was parked alongside the curb. Pressing a button on the key in her hands, the headlights blinked to life and the doors unlocked with an audible click.

Cassie opened the passenger's-side door and held it open for Mikey to get in. He hesitated. He felt odd enough taking a ride from her, but even more unnerved to be riding in the front seat with her. What if he was a psychopath?

Not too far off, Mikey thought bitterly, but he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. He still felt awkward around Cassie. Being that trusting in a city like New York was dangerous. She was lucky to still be alive.

After a second, Mikey stepped forward and dropped down into the passenger's seat. Cassie shut the door, then a second later appeared on the other side of the car. She hurried inside, coming out of the rain and shaking the water out of her hair.

“The hospital's close and traffic's pretty thin.” Cassie said, putting the keys in the ignition and starting the car.

“About that,” Mikey mumbled, changing his mind. “I don't know if that would be a good idea.”

“What?” Cassie looked at him suspiciously.

“I just don't think... I mean...”

“Is something wrong?”

“No, it's just... I think there might be someone looking for me and...”

“Who? Like, friends, or family, or...”

“Or what?”

“Police?” Cassie asked fearfully.

“I don't – I don't think so.” he replied.

Cassie backed away slightly. “What... what did you do?”

“Nothing.” Mikey lied, realizing only too late how quick he'd jumped to defend himself. He could see Cassie's hand was on the door handle.

“Cassie,” he continued. “I didn't do anything, I swear.”

“Then why would someone be after you?”

“I'm not sure...” Mikey had no intentions of cluing her in any further. Just he fact that she'd seen him might be enough for the Silent Underground or the police to find him.

“What do they think you did?” Cassie prodded.

“It's... it's nothing. Just believe me, please. I'm not going to hurt you.” Hearing himself say that made the other side of him laugh, but he kept the twisted smile off his face. The last time he had told someone he wasn't going to hurt them, he had nearly torn Michelle's throat out.

Cassie took a deep breath, fingering the steering wheel nervously. “If you don't want to go to the hospital, where do you want me to take you?”

Mikey thought for a second, then replied, “Can you go as far as Trenton?”

She nodded. “It'll be a bit of a drive, but we'll make good time at this time of day. Where in Trenton?”

“Cypress Ridge.” he answered.

Mikey prayed this would work. He knew it was a long shot, but it was his only hope. The Silent Underground was probably out for his blood and he knew his friends wouldn't understand. How could they? They had no idea what it was like. The only chance he had left was at Cypress Ridge. The question now: would even Dr. Sion be able to save him from what he was becoming?








Chapter Thirty


Frank made his way down the hall of the medical wing. As he passed by the first door, he could hear Gerard screaming at Ray. They had made the unanimous decision to tell him the truth and Ray had volunteered to deliver the news. Unfortunately, Gerard wasn't taking it too well.

“YOU'RE LYING!” Gerard bellowed, his voice so loud it made Frank jump.

“Gerard, please,” Ray said, trying to calm him down. “We know how bad this must be to hear -”

“You know? You know?” he shouted. “HOW THE HELL COULD YOU POSSIBLY KNOW HOW BAD THIS IS?”

Frank paused outside the door.

“Can I just -”

“I don't wanna hear it! It's not your brother that's missing, you stupid f-”

The rest of Gerard's words were drowned out by a crashing sound from within the room, followed by a stream of curses and shouting from both of them.

Standing outside the room, Frank just sighed. He realized that Gerard was taking it badly, but considering he would have just found out later on his own, it seemed like the right thing to do. At least, it had seemed that way at the time.

Geez, Frank thought as something inside the room shattered. If this is him angry with morphine, it's definitely better we tell him now than after the drugs wear off.

As the screaming progressed, Frank stepped away from the door and started down the hall again. He passed by one door, then two, then three, until he came to the room at the foot of the steps. It was identified by the short-hand scrawl across the white marker board that hung at eye level. Frank could barely read the writing, but he managed to make out the very first line.

Bryar, Robert.

Taking a deep breath, Frank knocked twice on the door. He didn't have to wait long for a response. Almost instantly, a familiar voice called for him to enter.

Stepping inside, Frank took the scene in quickly. He was standing in the entryway of a small, twelve-by-twelve foot room formed by gray-painted walls. The room itself was spartan and bare, centering around the hospital bed situated in the right-hand corner of the room. A single light bulb hung freely from the ceiling, its pull-cord swaying ever so slightly. The wind that moved it blew in from the set of windows set against the far wall, both of which Frank noticed were barred.

In front of him, Bob was sitting upright on the cot. On his lap sat a lunch tray which looked as though it hadn't been touched at all, exception being the dry macaroni on the main plate which he pushed around aimlessly with his fork. His beard was longer than he normally grew it from lack of shaving and his hair was slightly unkept, but Frank could tell by his eyes that he was doing well. The cuts on his wrists were bound in white cotton, and he could only see a trace amount of the blood that had seeped through the bandages.

“Hey Frank.” Bob said smiling.

“Hey, man.” Frank made his way across the room to where Bob was lying. There was a chair sitting nearby, which he dropped into gratefully. He hadn't even thought about it, but he was exhausted. The fact that he'd only gotten three hours of sleep the previous night coupled with the mounting stress had drained him to the point where he felt ready to pass out.

“How's life outside the asylum?” Bob asked sarcastically.

“Just peachy.” Frank replied in a similar tone. “Haven't slept in a few simultaneous days, feel as though I'm probably gonna go anorexic pretty soon, and it still has yet to stop raining, but you know, all around, it's as great as ever.” The smile on his face, though, was fleeting.

“Is everything okay?” he asked, concern registering in his eyes.

“No.” Frank murmured. “Everything's... Bob, things are getting pretty bad.”

“What happened?”

“I... I don't know how I'm supposed to say this, but...” He drummed his fingers on the arms of the chair in an attempt to delay his answer as long as possible.

“Just say it.” Bob insisted.

“Mikey...” Frank swallowed the lump in his throat. “Mikey's dead.”

The look of shock was slow to materialize on Bob's face, and when it finally did, Frank regretted saying anything. But he knew if he tried to tell him the rest later, it would only be worse. Better he was hit with it all at one time than to drag out the pain.

“I mean, he died, but he's not... not dead anymore.” Frank tried to explain. “He and Gerard were attacked. A vampire, and – I mean, they both got bitten, but... Gerard didn't die and – and he wasn't infected, but Mikey...”

“Wait...” Bob's eyes were now wide. “You're saying...”

“Mikey's infected.” Frank finished. “He tried to hurt Michelle, but he ran before he got the chance. She's alright, but we don't know where he is and – and that's what happened. They've already sent out as many search parties as they can spare, Ray and I have been getting ready to head out looking for him, and Katie and Michelle are ready to send a notice out to the police if it... escalates to that. As of right now,we don't really know how this is all going to turn out.”

By the time Frank was done, Bob was staring at him, mouth agape. Neither spoke, and as Frank waited for the shock to set in, Bob slouched down into the bed.

“s**t...” Bob finally managed to murmur. His hands were gripped on the bed's railings in a death grip and his face had gone sickly pale.

“We're going to find him.” Frank said, trying to sound reassuring. “We'll think of some way to help him.”

“If he's still missing, I want to help find him.” Bob said, trying to rise from the bed.

“No, Bob, please -” Frank held a hand out. “You need to stay here. They need to make sure you're... alright.”

“I'm not going to be 'alright' if there's a chance Mikey's out there killing people and I'm just sitting in here doing nothing.” He stared Frank down with a menacing glare.

“You can't -”

“You're not going to tell me what I can and can't do.” Bob growled.

Frank took a deep breath. “No, Bob, I am.” He rose to his feet. “I don't know why you tried to kill yourself, but you need to stay here. You're sick and you need help. I'm not going to let you leave.”

“I didn't try to kill myself.” Bob retaliated.

“Oh, of course,” Frank grimaced. “So you cut your wrists open, left a suicide note, and painted the bathroom in your own blood on accident?”

“You think I wanted that?” Bob demanded, infuriated. “You honestly think I'd do something like that to myself? What kind of idiot do you take me for?”

“I don't think you're an idiot!” shouted Frank. “That's why I have no idea why you would do this! You're smarter than that and I know it. We all know it. But if something's wrong - if you're sick or possessed or whatever – it's not your fault. They need to keep you here so they can help you. Just... please. Let them help you.”

Bob was about to speak but stopped. He understood what Frank was saying, and part of him agreed. But he still felt like he should be out looking for Mikey.

“Isn't there some way I could help you guys find him?” Bob asked pleadingly.

“I don't... I... I'm sorry, Bob, but you have to leave this to us. At least until we know you're alright.”

“You won't have long to wait.” Kelly said from the doorway. She'd entered without a sound, standing so still that she'd been invisible until she spoke. Frank didn't know how long she'd been waiting there, and was about to apologize for not seeing her when he noticed the blood on the glove around her hand. His eye was drawn to the sliver of dark crystal held loosely between her fingers. For some reason, seeing it filled him with a sort of dread that he couldn't explain through words.

“What is that?” Bob asked, beating Frank to the question that had been brewing in his head.

Kelly gave him a mischievous smile. “This, my friend, happens to be the only piece of evidence you need to prove you sanity.”

~*~


Bob, Frank, Ray, Kelly, Ken, and Tobias were gathered in a back room to the medical wing that Bob hadn't known existed prior to this moment. Its entrance was concealed in darkness of the bottom of the stairwell and none of them had seen it until now. The chamber was slightly larger than most of the recovery rooms, roughly the size of one of the dorms. It was lined with a rich variety of medical texts, all of which seemed to come from a different century. On one side of the room, the shelves were packed with dusty, leather-bound volumes and scrolls that must have been at least five hundred years old, while on the other end, the walls were filled with an archive of compact discs. A series of desks and tables were set up in the center of the room, the largest of which was positioned below the overhead projection system that hung from the ceiling.

Tobias was busy setting something up in the back of the room, near where the main computer was standing. Kelly was talking with her fiance quietly a few tables away, discussing something from the opened text in front of them. Its edges were worn but looked well preserved, leaving Bob to guess it was about two to three hundred years old.

“This is what we get for digitizing our system.” Kelly thought aloud. She gave Tobias a questioning look and he shook his head.

“What is it you need to show us?” Ray asked.

Kelly sighed. “It looks like it'll take Toby a while to get that going. I might as well show you guys what we've got in the book.”

She picked the text up off the table and brought it over to the center desk and laid it open so they could see the heading of the page. In bold olive font, penned in calligraphy over the top of the entry, were the words 'The angelus of dolor'. Directly below them sat a sketch that looked identical to the paperthin shard Kelly had discovered on the bathroom floor. They were exactly alike in every aspect, including the intricately cut, flawless Blood Icon carved on either end.

“I can't read Latin...” Frank murmured.

“We have an interpreted version on a disc.” Kelly said.

Not a second later, there was a dull hiss from the other side of the room, not loud but prominent enough that it caused everyone to turn in unison. They saw Tobias standing a few feet away from the now-smoking and sizzling computer, hands held up in a defensive don't-look-at-me position.

Ken rolled his eyes. “Looks like we're going to have to go to plan B.”

“Sorry.” Tobias mumbled.

“No problem.” Kelly responded, rubbing her hands together anxiously. “I learned enough from high school foreign language classes to give you guys a basic overview.”

“First off,” Bob started. “what is that thing?”

“Just what the book says.” answered Kelly. “The angelus of dolor. Or, in plain, simple, boring English, 'the angel of misery'.” She pointed a finger at the caption underneath the graphic on the page. “It's an Otherworld apparition in the same family as the sanctus of homicide, the everto of abominor, and the spiritus of genocide. Also known as the Sinful Nex, or 'sinful deaths'.”

The three men leaned in closer to the book as she continued to speak.

“Each one manifests itself in a different way, specific to its own specialty.” She directed her attention to Bob. “The angelus of dolor just so happens to appear through mirrors.”

“Wait, you mean...” Bob started.

“Each member of the Sinful Nex works in a different way. The angel of misery is,” Kelly looked down at the page to read the precise wording, “'a persuasive demon that assumes the form of its victim in an attempt to drive them to suicide by manipulating their emotions and feelings'.”

Bob was startled. He'd expected her to know what she was talking about, but that fact that the entire thing was so easy to explain blew him away.

“You mean Bob had an evil little clone that was following him around and telling him to kill himself?” Frank asked.

“Mirrors...” Kelly said again, giving Frank a venomous glare.

“Oh yeah.” Frank laughed nervously.

“So this angel thing,” Ray muttered, looking down at the page. “it can actually do that?”

“Not only can it do it, but it can do it very well.” Kelly replied. “The fact that Bob had enough will power to keep himself alive is impressive.”

Bob shrugged. “I don't exactly look forward to dying.”

“No offense, but it doesn't looked very scary.” Frank said, glancing between the real shard and the one on the page. “I thought demons were all about instilling fear and terror and whatever. Is the crystal thing just like, a vessel or something?”

“The crystal is its calling card. The most notorious demons usually have them. This is the angelus of dolor.” She flipped the page over, revealing the full color illustration on the back.

None of them found it hard to believe that this was the true angel of misery. Draped in rose red linens and obsidian stones, the demon stood fully clad in pewter armor and glistening chain mail. Its torn and rotting hands, decrepit like a decomposing corpse, held a blood-stained noose around its neck at an already tightened slack. Where its eyes should have been, two gaping holes were blown through to the back of his skull, revealing the gore and tissue inside its twisted head. Plumes of acrid-green smoke rose from the edges of the glossy black wings that grew from his back, wisping up into the air and forming into skull-shaped clouds before dissipating into the yellowed page. Deep gashes were carved across either of the creature's arms and wrists, and from each individual cut, a froth of putrid blood had begun to spill over and onto the ground, where it collected in churning pools. But most prominent of all the self-mutilations that were inflicted upon the demon was the yawning cave that had become of its chest. Every vital organ in the creature's body was missing, except for its withered and beaten heart, which hung like a pendulum inside the hollow ribcage. And upon the creature's charred heart, painted in white so it stood out against the morbid pallet, was the Blood Icon, its satanic visage retaining all the beauty of a butchered hog.

The three just stared open-mouthed at the grotesque image. Not a one of them could have possibly conjured such a thing in their worst nightmares, and seeing something so terrifyingly and undeniably evil on the page was nauseating.

“S-son of a b***h.” Ray stammered, breaking the horrified silence. “Who the hell illustrated this thing?”

“Someone who's long since been instituted.” Frank muttered, shaking his head.

“This is the thing that was messing with me?” Bob asked, completely stunned and barely able to speak.

“Congratulations.” Kelly smiled. “You're the first person to survive the angel of misery in over two hundred years.”

“I guess I should consider myself lucky.” Bob breathed, averting his gaze from the image.

“Luck has nothing to do with it.” she said, turning towards him. “You survived thanks to sheer will power.”

A loud ringing from the other side of the room once again drew their attention to Tobias, who seemed to jump a foot in the air as his cell phone went off. He gave them an apologetic glance as he reached into his pocket to take it out.

“Hello?” he started as he brought the phone to his ear.

The other five stayed silent as the voice on the other end of the line spoke.

“What kind of emergency?” Tobias asked, his normally shy and tentative voice taking on a tone of concern.

A few seconds passed and the look on his face turned to tension. “He couldn't have. How did he -”

Tobias stopped for a moment as the man on the other end continued. Running a nervous hand through his jet black hair, he started swaying uncomfortably on the spot.

“Do you have any idea where he might have gone?” he asked urgently. “Is there any kind of trail or...”

Tobias bit his lip.

“Yes, I understand.”

Pause.

“Alright. I'll tell them.”

He hung up the phone and stuffed it back into his pocket.

“Who... who was that?” Kelly whispered.

Tobias looked up. They immediately saw the apprehension in his eyes.

“Gerard's missing.” he replied hesitantly. “One of the nurses was taking his blood pressure a few minutes ago. She left the room for a second to write something down and... he vanished.”
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