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...