Part Ten: Transitions

I know they blame me. I blame myself too.

The night clung to them like cobwebs; the grief fractured spiders picking their way through the dark. Glade and Lexie clung to each other, desperately. It was always like that now.

In the days since Heather had died, since Kale had left Riverview, there was nothing but sadness- nothing but the knowledge of death. They tried to keep it from me, of course- Glade still smiled and Lexie still mirrored, but behind their eyes I could see the fear.



It's all my fault you see- if he hadn't of come after me then none of this would have happened. Heather is dead because of me. That's just something I'll have to live with, because she can't.

I know what they think when they look at me. Their minds just ache for the truth, for the understanding of what I am, but I can't even begin to comprehend the fantastic possibilities. I changed. I changed in an instant, and that changes everyone else too- because no matter who I am, no matter who loves me and keeps me grounded, there is something inside of me that's alien.



After Kale left Glade and Lexie became closer than ever, and that just left me shapeless, because with no support I can have no form. I sympathise with their actions entirely- I would probably do the same if I were in their shoes, but... I need them.

All these things that used to belong to me don't fit anymore. I don't fit anymore. I'm an obscurity- a dark mark on the landscape- and I don't know how to adjust.



There's so much confusion right now, but one thing I know for sure is that I cannot go on like this. I've seen so much but I still have so much more to learn. And so I must do just that- I must seek out the answers to the questions that haunt us all. Maybe then, maybe when I finally learn the truth, can we all be at peace.



The bar hummed with activity, the noise of a dozen quiet whispers reaching a dull roar. Atmosphere, on the rocks.

La Crypte was known in Riverview as the bad element; something Maia was only too aware of. Normally young girls such as herself wouldn't even dream of living in Riverview, let alone paying a visit to its dark heart, but regardless- that was where answers could be found so that's where she went.

As she slipped into the heavy darkness Maia surveyed the shadows. Danger lay faintly dormant, though always aware and hungry, but somehow Maia felt no fear. She knew why she was there, she knew what she had to do, and nothing could stand in her way.



If you want to hear secrets, nothing loosens eager tongues more than a hefty shot of persuasion. Maia discounted plans of subterfuge and trickery as she realised there was only one thing she had to do to get the answers she sought. Listen.

Maia had had so much practise at this- so many years of just waiting and watching that now it came naturally. Getting a drink from the bar, Maia sat down just metres away from the fiend that had murdered Heather, and listened. The darkest part of her ached for revenge; burned and scolded her to do it's will, but Maia knew that results could not be obtained that way. And so she sat and sipped quietly as the vampire spoke.



Engrossed in the conversation she barely noticed him enter the room... Then, looking up from the table, Maia felt her bones twist with fear as she came face to face with a thing of nightmares. He had found her.

Breaths came short and harsh, the air just falling out of Maia as she turned round in her chair. Was he still looking at her? What was he going to do? Would it hurt? Would she cry? Suddenly answers were the last thing on Maia's mind- she just wanted to escape.



Shivers of fear shook Maia from within, the core of her body feeling like ice and fire as she tried so hard to retain her calm. Amazingly it worked- her exterior was calm and composed, though as she got up from her seat her legs wobbled and shook her with them. The King watched as his daughter breezed past him, and said... nothing.

Maia could scarcely breathe as she passed the nightmare by, her fears on the cusp of coming to life but never quite making it. The King didn't shout out, didn't grab her. Only then did she remember something- he was looking for a tiny girl, she was now so much more than that. Of course he didn't recognise her- how could he?



Slipping onto a stool at the bar Maia finally felt some of the tension leave her. As she looked back she saw The King take a seat in the corner and realised she was of no consequence to him whatsoever- her existence was a meer tiny light just outside the reach of his shadow. Relieved, Maia's thoughts again returned to the mission in mind, and she began to listen once more to the plotting of the enemy.

The voices were lower now that The King had joined his subjects- the whispers more urgent and hushed. Maia strained to hear, and frowned when she was distracted by a man to her left who interupted her with joyful tones.



The stranger was persistant, and oddly cheerful- something rarely seen in a place like La Crypte. His voice was musical, calming and serene, and as he spoke Maia found herself wanting to listen.
Of course, with the man pulling her thoughts from the The King and his plans, Maia's mind was tricked into distraction- the sound of voices getting fainter and fainter as her smile grew wider.



Suddenly, in a flash, one word slipped through from the King's corner. It caught the edge of Maia's senses and snagged, and she grasped it before it drifted away.

War.

It was enough, that one word, to make the fear rise like bile in her throat. Maia's heart dropped as she listened on to the idle chatter of epic proportions- talk of death and fighting and an army... Big things were coming, and so many stood to suffer.



Maia had heard enough. This wasn't what she had come to find out, but it was plenty- it was more than what she needed. Now the worries were laid bare all around her, the troubles piling up and making her feel sick, with no way of reaching the summit. But something there spoke of hope- something in The King's words resonated; gave a solution.
Tearing herself away from the pleasant man and his kind words, Maia forced a quick goodbye, and ran.



Night at its deepest, the stars burning brightly but affording no comfort. Maia wandered through the wilderness as she made her way to the graveyard, conducting plans in her mind but only serving to produce mild panic. It gnawed at her- the knowledge that something was desperately wrong- but she could not shake it.



Eventually Maia reached the mausoleum, and made her way down to the catacombs beneath.



For hours she remained in it's depths- the catacombs providing solace from the world outside as Maia sought out the scrap of hope she needed. When she eventually returned to the land above it was nearing dawn... but not close enough.
Maia knew them even before they stepped out from the shadows. The stood still- watching, waiting.



Vampires. Crueler than night, sharper than day. They waited for Maia, and she should have known.
Maia thought back to that day when she and Glade had nearly lost their lives- that day when Silver and Drake had first crept out from the darkness and threatened their existence. She should have known, she should have known. Vampires always had a way of seeking out the weak.



As the vampires began to advance, Maia had one last demented and desperate thought.

It's a good thing I'm already in a graveyard...





The eagle-eyed amongst you may have noticed a couple of cameo appearances there.
Marko Caldwell by ChicagoStorm
Nicole Pentameter by pentameter

Part Nine: Flux

Drake closed his eyes and sighed as he thought of his past- the things he'd done. The memories flickered through his mind leaving dirty stains, the echoing voices of those he had hurt pierced his ears like thorns. He opened his eyes, saw the hate standing in front of him and the knife that glistened with malevolence. He closed them again, and waited for the blade to pierce his flesh.



On the wall a clock pulsed out a dull rhythm, each second like cruel laughter. Drake felt like he was holding his breath for too long, and then he realised that he'd been holding it for years now, and a bit more couldn't make a difference. Just a bit longer now, just a few more moments until the pain and the relief. One more second.
Drake opened his eyes again, and saw that the knife was not heading for his vitals like he expected, in fact it was much further away, in fact it was lying on the floor. He had been so tense he hadn't even heard it drop. Over by the doorway Glade consoled his friend.



Kale was not a murderer. He'd had his chance to wound before and he had let it pass him by, for Heather. Now she was gone he didn't think he'd be able to resist a second time, but as he'd thought of his son he realised that he could never be a demon. Kale felt like a coward for not having the strength to kill- to seek revenge for his wife- but deep down he knew it was what Heather would have wanted.
Turning back to the vampire Kale left with a warning. This was not over, and if the vampire did not cease to exist in Riverview then he would find a way to end him, that was a promise.



Back at the house Lexie and the newly grown-up Maia awaited the return of the others. The initial shock of seeing Maia transform like that had deeply distressed Lexie; really it was just a step too far in an already disturbing day, but after a short while she managed to calm down and control her panic. Lacking understanding of the whole situation was hard, but Lexie still thought of Maia as a little girl despite her current predicament, and so she did her best to care for the child; getting her some clothes to wear and making her some food. In time the two women were settled, and as the sun began to announce the beginning of a brand new day they heard the sound of voices, and footsteps on the stairs.



As Glade entered the hallway he balked at the sight of Maia. His heart lurched and his throat grew dry, because to Glade this was a stranger- a stranger. Given recent events even the most steadfast would be prone to panic when coming across an uninvited visitor, and as Glade stared at the girl his first thought was of Maia. What if this was another cruel trick? What if something had happened to her?
Glade gulped in oxygen in alarm as he thought of his little sister. If anything happened to Maia he thought he'd die and if this stranger had done something to her then she'd die too and ohmygod it's not a stranger at all it's Maia- it's Maia. Glade didn't know how or why, he only knew that looking into her eyes told him all he needed to know. Maia was safe and oh-so-alive. He hugged her close to make sure.



Later that day the parts tried to pull themselves together as they said goodbye to Heather. It was a quiet affair, only leaves rustling in a cool breeze and the occasional sound of hacked sobs shaking Kale's body as he mourned his wife. The others tried to be there for him but there was nothing they could do- his heart was broken.



When his friends were gone and Kale was alone he revelled in silence. All day long they'd pleaded with him to let them stay- to let them help- but the assistance Kale needed could not be provided by human cause. What Kale needed was something more; something mystical.
As a ghost he knew that life did not necessarily end with just death, and he hoped desperately that he could prove that now. It wasn't possible though- the sad irony was that the only person who could have saved Heather was herself, but Kale had determination on his side. Now was not the time though, and it couldn't happen in Riverview. Kale needed to give himself and his son a better life, and to do that he would have to leave.



In Glade's house ignorance was bliss. After the horror of the day Lexie couldn't face going home alone and Glade wouldn't let her anyway, so as the sun began to sink into the earth the couple crawled into bed together, and tried to forget.



Maia, now much too large for her crib, was resigned to the sofa, and she scrunched up and tried to make herself as small as possible; uncomfortable in her new form. Yes she had wished for it, but she didn't really expect it to happen- and even as her bones had begun to crack and twist she hadn't expected it to happen, and even after it was over she hadn't expected it to happen. Now though she was in a state of flux, stuck between being a child and being a grown-up, and clueless as to what to do next. All she knew now was that, should a vampire ever try to mess with her again, she could most certainly defend herself.



Across town Drake was still alone. It had been nearly twenty-four hours since Silver had left, and with the night now creeping across the town once again he knew he could begin to look for her. Something made him resist though, something like fear.
Drake's fear stemmed from knowledge, an understanding of Silver that went beyond normal human connection. He knew her because he had made her, and so he was only too aware of what she was capable of.



Hurting others was of no consequence to Silver, in fact she revelled in it, and so when she decided to play a visit to her King she knew where it would lead, and she did not care.



Later that night, satisfied in their seduction, Avalon and Silver discussed future plans. The war with the others was far from over, and Avalon was confident that this recent casualty was to be the first of many. And of course there was that other matter to consider...
In a town like Riverview gossip is everything; rumours were often more a warning than a pasttime, because with so much to hide there was always someone after you. Lately talk had been of The Shadow. People said he was coming, and he would tear the town apart as he searched for the one he'd lost. No one knew who he was, only that they should fear him.
Avalon and Silver were not afraid.



In the days that passed sadness clouded the world. Heather's death still burned like sickness, and the sheer absence of her spirit was a constant reminder of everything they'd lost. Perhaps the only one immune was Maia.
Following her transition Maia had struggled to find her place. No longer a child she longed to greet the world and be part of it, but the mourning of the others was a constant cloud, and she couldn't get out from under it's shade.



But although Maia was trapped in her existence, Kale had other plans. When Heather had brought him back it had been a miracle, but one purely of her own design. Now he knew it was no accident, and that Heather had learnt the methods she'd utilized somehow.
He remembered the room where she'd spent her life up until she became his; there were always so many books there. Kale was willing to bet that some of those books were about the very thing he needed, he only hoped that they had remained intact all these years.
When the time was right, Kale gathered the only belonging he needed anymore- his son Cayden- and left the house.



As Kale slipped silently out into the night he of course thought of Glade, Lexie, and Maia. He despaired of leaving them, especially given the current tensions arising in Riverview, but he knew it was necessary. He left a note on Glade's doorstep, and hoped his friends would be okay.

Part Eight: A Simple One Night Fang

Control is key. Every decision we make, every action, it's all about control. So if someone comes along and tries to take that power away from you, well, it's bound to drive you a little crazy. But what if the simple mental illness is the thing that causes you to lose control in the first place- what then? Without your mind what do you have left? Only the madness.
Welcome to The Asylum. Please check it at reception; leave your sense and your sanity at the door.



For Silver it was the numbers that did it; it was the numbers that shaped and warped her fragile mind. She thought that she could make it all better, all she had to do was count to four twice and everything would be okay again. It wasn't that easy though.
There was the counting when she woke in the morning. There was the counting when she got dressed, ate a meal, talked with friends. In the end the numbers weren't enough, and with them came rituals and routines- all there for protection. Got to count and plan, count and plan, otherwise something bad might happen. But when something bad really did happen Silver barely noticed, and she found herself in a cold, hard cell counting the tiles on the walls. By then the control was lost and it was too late, and no amount of numbers would save her.



Silver suffered from what would later be known as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder, but for now it more clinical than that. A big old rubber stamp on the back of the hand- 'Insane', and that was all. There was no cognitive therapy or psychoanalysis, you were simple 'mental'. No more discussion was needed; just lock up the crazies and let them slowly die.
And so Silver became accustomed to her life- she had little choice in the matter. In the asylum she was not her own person, just a number in white clothing; unique just like all the others. She didn't talk to them, she wouldn't know what to say. Instead Silver spent her days with her tarot cards, looking to the universe for signs of change. Unfortunately, the changes soon to come were not what she expected.


There was a man in charge of The Asylum, a man with a quiet manner and a playful smile always about the lips. Dr Drake Hartmann had built the institute himself and had been there from the beginning, always concerned with the care and upkeep of his patients. At least, to the untrained eye...



Silver had been at the institute for nearly a week when it happened. She was busy going about her daily routine when he came to her, got close and whispered in her ear. Just a straightforward proposition- something about an itch to scratch and a helping hand- and by giving Dr Hartmann what he wanted then maybe Silver could get what she needed.
Being insane wasn't easy, and in time Silver had come to deal with her issues by substituting them with a little addiction. Of course, now she was locked away she could no longer get her wares, and as day followed night followed day followed night the itch of withdrawal began to creep, and gnaw, and bite. This was where Dr Hartmann came in- if the inmates could get intimate, then maybe he would prescribe them a little something. Tit for tat, if you will.



It was a well-known fact around The Asylum that inmates were expected to keep their mouths shut and their legs open. Dr Hartmann was King and no one dared disobey him, because, even if they rebelled; even if they wanted to complain, who would believe them? They were mental patients, he was a respected Doctor. The hierarchy ruled all, and all the little pawns would just have to suck it (up), and obey.



Silver took longer to cave than the others. She was stronger than anyone had anticipated, but as each day crawled past the discomfort deepened. In time it was all consuming, and Silver knew that she couldn't go on any longer. She needed her hit of the big H to see her through the madness, and that meant giving it up to the Doctor.



Dr Hartmann couldn't even feign surprise when she came to him, because they all did in the end. Still, this one meant more for some reason- the fact that Silver had resisted for so long made him want her intensely, until she became his own addiction. After that first night it only got worse, and Silver and Drake found themselves in a cycle of dependency- each feeding off of what the other could offer.



Days turned to weeks turned to months and still the cycle remained, and each time Silver sold herself she felt a little bit of her humanity slip away. The depravity of it all- it played on her mind, and she knew she could not go on like this.
One night, when the moon loomed large and imposing in the midnight sky, Silver planned her escape. The security in The Asylum was lax at best- Dr Hartmann relying more on fear than anything else to keep the inmates in check- so Silver was able to slip away with relative ease. Now all she had to worry about was being caught escaping, because surely the punishment served for such would be worse than she could imagine.



Silver reached the perimeter of the insititute's grounds and crawled over the hedge, mindful of her surroundings are always vigilantly watching. In time though she felt able to relax as there were no alarms, no shouts with people running after her. She was free, at last.



She never heard the shadow come up behind her, only felt cold fingers gripping her arm like a vice and a quick scratch running parallel to a vein on her neck. She turned, moaned; the scratch deepened, made a hole; the blood rose up to fill the gap. Consciousness gave out and pain set in.



Silver was gone; the news rang through the halls like a siren. For most residents the siren sang of hope, of a possibility of escape, but for Dr Hartmann the news was toxic. If she was out there she could tell people what he had done, and that simply would not do. He wanted to find her, to punish her, but more than that he just wanted her back. He had grown to depend on her presence, and his cruel world was less fun without a victim. But Dr Hartmann needn't have worried, because Silver was closer than he realised...



It was nighttime, and Dr Hartmann was in his office just finishing up for the day. His 'case studies' had been conducted in their usual fashion, and there was nothing left to do but go home, rest, and think about Silver, but as he turned towards the door she was already waiting for him.
He looked better than he had ever seen her- stronger and more assured somehow, a world away from the frail and fractured soul that had come to his door all those weeks ago, as she spoke her voice stayed firm and didn't falter. There was anger- Dr Hartmann expected that- but what he didn't expect was the emotion and questions.



All Silver wanted to know was why- what had she done to deserve Dr Hartmann's cruel treatment of her? The Doctor offered no answers, and he couldn't help but break into his customary sly grin. That was his first mistake.
A vicious growl reverberated from deep in Silver's thoat, and she gnashed her teeth as she regarded her enemy and lover. The situation vexed Silver greatly- she had started off hating Dr Hartmann, but in time she had grown to depend on his twisted affections. Now all she wanted was for him to explain himself, but instead he did the worst thing possible. He turned his back on her.
That was his second mistake.



Death hurt like hell, but returning from it was far worse. As Drake awoke as a vampire he felt... wrong. His blood did not flow, his breath was stale and pointless, and all of him ached. Truly that was what being a vampire was all about- being punished for your past sins. Sure you can live forever, but can you live with yourself?



As Drake looked at Silver, her sweetly sick smile lighting up her face, a sudden sense of shame passed over him. The things he had done... death had really laid it all out for him- his immoral actions and their reflected consequences. Perhaps for the first time Drake felt guilty, and he realised he had an awful lot to atone for.
What he couldn't understand though was why Silver had turned him- why hadn't she just let him die? It was what he deserved, after all. But then, as Silver stared at him, he saw in her eyes what he had suspected for a while. Silver needed him and, perhaps more shockingly, he needed her too.
Addiction takes many forms.



That night, Drake and Silver left The Asylum. As vampires they knew they could be together for more than a lifetime, and Drake knew that he would spend that time reconciling with his demons and the things he had done. He had made a lot of mistakes in his life, but he had so much time in his death to make up for it. He just hoped Silver would be willing to let him.

Part Seven: Death Sets You Free

It was a very simple job- a little snatch and grab, a lot of reward. Silver didn't know exactly what the King wanted with the child she now held in her grasp, but in truth she didn't care. It had been fun; the terror on that girl's face as she sunk her teeth in had been a reward in itself; an unexpected bonus of a takeaway dinner. Yes, it had been very simple indeed. Now all she had to do was deliver the package.
Silver walked away from the scene without hurry or agitation. She talked to herself as she went- rehearsing her planned conversation with the King as the child squirmed in her arms. Dig the nails in quick- that would make the brat stop screaming. A little pain served and then on with the journey. Close to home now, not much further.
But then the sudden darkness. Silver only managed to let out a small gasp of surprise as she felt cool fingers press down on her neck, cruising across her skin until they found the spot, and she slipped into unconsciousness.



As the creature's grip loosened and she slumped to the ground, Maia tumbled from her arms and onto the damp grass. The child let out a squeak as she regarded the body on the floor, and a further sound echoed when she saw the other figure now towering over her. She'd seen him before, she knew that now. He frightened her, and she froze.
Hands reached down and lifted Maia, and as she was taken she could only wish to herself- 'if only I were older, stronger, taller- then I could save myself'. Maia had been saved by others all her life, but she knew it couldn't last forever. She knew the eventually she would have to learn to protect herself, before her luck ran out.



Kale muttered to himself as he neared the end of his journey, thinking of the wasted trip across town and wondering why he had been called into work for no reason. It had been annoyingly pointless, but at least now he could come home and spend some time with his wife and baby. A smile now as Kale thought of that, but then the expression slipped as he reached his home. Opposite him the vampire watched.
Kale could only stare helplessly as the creature glared, and his heart reached desperately for Maia as she screamed and thrashed in the vampire's arms. It was a stand-off, and one that would not end well... or so Kale thought. Abruptly, seemingly without reason, the vampire took Maia, placed her safely on the ground, and ran off into the night.



There would be time for analysis- time to make sense of what had just happened- but for now Kale was just glad that Maia was okay, and glad that the vampire had not attacked them. He picked Maia up, hugged the girl closely and tried to calm her down, and walked up the steps towards his front door. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the body, and his heart pitched deep into the pit of his stomach.
A laugh escaped Kale's lips, but it was short and sharp- more like a bark. A painful grimace contorted his face as he observed his wife; waited for her to move, get up, share the joke with him. But the body stayed still. He touched her hand- it was cold. He let it go- it thudded to the floor. She was dead.



Kale began to cry. His heart heaved and his hands trembled but the tears never came, instead his eyes just ached and his throat just burned. In the distance he heard the frantic cries and laboured breathing of Glade and his date as they ran across the road towards him.



When Glade reached the porch he immediately turned to Kale to ask him questions whilst Lexie leaned heavily against the railing and tried to catch her breath. For a second there was hysteria as Glade looked for Maia but this passed when he saw her sitting safely on the floor, though her clear distress disturbed him. Glade turned back to Lexie and grasped at her hand, smiling and repeating that it was okay over and over. Lexie gripped his hand firmly, placed her palm against his face, and gently turned his head around. Glade saw that it was definitely not okay.
The body lay on the floor and its cold presence mocked them.



There were no words; Glade could only hold out his hands to Kale and try to keep them from shaking. He pulled Kale towards him, the need to wrap his arms around his friend seemed all consuming, and Glade wondered if that was because, without another to hold on to, both would just fall apart.
Lexie took Maia into the house and checked on the baby asleep inside. Outside Glade held Kale and tried to keep his world from ending.



After a little while Kale made moves of independence- calmly moving out of Glade's embrace and standing alone. He avoided Glade's eyes, thinking he wouldn't be able to bear any more sadness than his own, but that emotion didn't stay steady for long. Soon a harsher force pushed its way to the surface- one that scorched and itched, begging for action. Anger is an easier thing to feel than sorrow, indeed.
Kale calmly turned to his friend and thanked him for his comfort, but asked him to leave him for a moment and perhaps check on the children. Of course Glade wasn't about to refuse his broken companion, so he went inside the house and joined Lexie. He saw her shaking and held her too; thoughts of Kale escaping his mind for a minute. That was all the time Kale needed to steal away from his living nightmare.



Across town Drake paced the small scope of his crypt and licked his wounds. After bringing Silver back to their lair she had not treated him kindly, instead turning on him with hostility after she had regained consciousness. She demanded to know why he had stopped her taking the child but he had no explanation that would satisfy her, and so Silver had scowled, pouted, and ran off back to her King. Drake was used to their fights, but in near two decades together it had never stopped hurting.



Time is insignificant when you live in darkness, but still Drake knew of its passing. He waited for a while, wondering if Silver would come back to him, but before long it was evident that she wasn't finished sulking. He liked to think that was all it was- petulance and defiance- but since that King had come into their lives he had felt Silver changing, and suspected she hadn't returned because she was happier with the Master.
Drake sighed deeply, though no air passed his lips, and prepared himself for rest now that the sun was imminent. Wandering vacantly over to his coffin he trailed a finger through the layers of dust and wrote her name in it. When he heard the door creak he smiled and turned to greet his love, but it was hate instead that confronted him. He began to speak but halted quickly as he saw the weapon in hate's hand.



Back at the house Lexie was alone. It hadn't taken long for Glade to notice Kale's absence and, after grasping Lexie feverishly and instructing her to stay in the house with the doors locked, he had raced off after his friend. Lexie didn't know much about ghosts- she didn't know if Kale could even be killed- but she knew that Glade would not let his friend risk danger alone. She admired that about him, and tried to imagine his strength was her own as she fought her fears.
Meanwhile, in the room behind her where Maia sat playing, a strange violet glow began to materialise and fill the space with its light.



Most little girls wish that they were special, but only a few truly are.



In the hallway Lexie was disrupted by a confusing sound- noise like a hundred tiny bones cracking all at once... Bemused, Lexie placed the sleeping baby Cayden back in his crib and turned to face the discord. There stood a stranger, and she was smiling.



In the vampire's lair Drake faced his demons. The ghost before him trembled with emotion but the hand that held the knife was strong, and Drake knew he was prepared to use it. At first he opened his mouth to protest but one look at the boy's face told him no.
When he'd stopped Silver he hadn't seen the body on the porch, but he had smelt the blood; now he could only taste the fury. Someone had died tonight and it wasn't over.
A rush of commotion at the door and Glade burst in, sweat and fear too. He quicky scanned the room, frantic eyes darting between Kale and Drake, Kale and Drake, Kale and The Knife and Drake. It glowed- that was odd- the knife seemed to possess the same ghostly power that Kale was composed of. Glade wondered if that would affect its savage potential.



Fear did not immediately present itself, and instead Drake stared into the eyes of a hollow man as he chewed his bottom lip. He bit it til it bled but still nothing changed- the ghost's anger remained and so did the danger, and Drake couldn't help but think that maybe this was meant to be. He had done so much in his life and now his sins outnumbered his years; maybe it was time to pay for them.
The blade hovered and made promises of retribution, but the vampire stayed still. He thought about fighting back; relented. As final fatality loomed Drake thought about the black marks of his past, and the one that had brought him to this...