The room spun back into view in an instant, and Maarten was almost happy to feel hard rocky surface beneath his feet.
He blinked a few times, trying to steady himself from falling over.

"Maarten!" he heard Anika yell, and was pleasantly surprised to find her embracing him tightly.
"Anika..." he allowed himself to hug her back – so glad to find her alive and well.

"Cute," he heard Mircea chuckle from behind.
"You!" Anika hissed, pulling Maarten a few steps away with her.

"Relax..." Maarten whispered "I think I've got this under control..."

"Everyone is here! How nice!" Mircea laughed.
Maarten turned around – spotting Erik and Cecilé tending to the now not so unconscious vampires on the floor.
Gilbert was cursing and muttering in German, and from what Maarten gathered; no words promised anything good for Mircea.

"What's he doing here though?" Francis inquired with a frown, leaning against the wall as he glared threateningly at Mircea.

"Couldn't leave him now could I?" Maarten grumbled, still holding his arms around Anika protectively.
"Well you could..." Erik rolled his eyes, pressing a piece of gauze to Halldór's forehead.

"Erik! My friend!" Mircea greeted him with a smile, strolling over as if this was just another casual meeting with an old school friend.
"How are you doing?" Mircea asked, crouching down and smiling brightly at the two brothers.
"Great, no thanks to you," Erik grumbled sarcastically.
"Need any help with that?" Mircea gestured to Halldór's wound.

"Eh...yes?" Erik nodded a little hesitantly – he'd been trying to stop the bleeding for some time, but it wasn't working.

Mircea smiled, rolled up his sleeve, and with a muttered word of healing Halldór's wound was as good as gone.

"Uh...thanks," Erik said quietly, running his own finger over his brother's forehead – he had to check that he was okay with his own eyes and hands.

"No problem," Mircea smiled, standing up and dusting off his trousers and jacket.

Everyone was staring at him, waiting to see his next movement.
Following him closely with their eyes; not trusting this calm demeanour he was currently showing.

"Why is everyone staring at me? Am I that unusual?" Mircea turned around a few times, his jacket flaring out behind him – the smile still strongly etched into his features.

"You can say that again," Erik rolled his eyes.

"Oh, why?"

The whole room went silent as a grave – even Gilbert who had just seconds ago been ready to curse loudly and throw stuff around, was now as quiet as a mouse.

"Why are you all staring at me like that?" Mircea asked, turning his gaze from one person to the other slowly.

"Oh I don't know..." Gilbert grunted "Maybe because you tried to kill us?"

"I did?" Mircea looked genuinely shocked and concerned, glancing over at Maarten for confirmation that the white haired vampire was speaking the truth.
Maarten nodded slowly, and Mircea's expression went solemn.

"You don't... remember?" Veronique looked at him worriedly, rubbing her stomach slowly.

"I...well... yes. But no? I mean," Mircea scratched his head, frantically staring at Maarten and the coffin in the middle of the room.
"I don't think I was going to, but then maybe I was?"

"Brilliant," Gilbert sighed, rolling his eyes and baring his teeth "He's even more broken than we could have imagined,"

"I'm not broken," Mircea huffed, turning to look at the coffin.

Anika tugged at Maarten's coat, making him bend down a little to her level.

"Maarten," she whispered "He's not sane,"
"I know," Maarten whispered back.
"You wanted to kill him... right?"
"Yes,"
"So why haven't you done it yet?"

"I couldn't..." he admitted after a moment of silence.
"What?" she hissed in disbelief, "He's tried to kill us all!"
"Yes, but what if we can help him instead?"
"Now you're going crazy,"

"So this is your little brother...?" Erik interrupted them; much to Maarten's surprise Erik had left Halldór's side and was standing next to Micrea and the coffin.

"Cute isn't he?" Mircea sighed sadly, placing his hands over the glass lid and staring down at the bones.

"You really miss him..."
"Yes," Mircea sighed.

Maarten froze; he was scared of what Erik's next question was going to be.

"How did he die?"

Everything seemed to stand still as Erik uttered the last syllable.
Maarten held his breath, ready draw out his dagger should Mircea suddenly turn.

"There was fire," Mircea sighed, eyes glowing red.
Erik didn't budge.
"Fire?"

Maarten took a step closer, prying Anika's hands off him in the process – he needed to get closer; to ensure if it went to hell he could stop it.

Mircea's eyes were glowing stronger and stronger.

"They dragged him outside, the sun burned his skin. I remember his screams," Mircea whispered weakly.
"He was begging for me to come get him. And I tried! I swear!"

Erik placed a hand on Mircea's trembling shoulders, and for a moment it seemed to reduce the trembles of Mircea's body and the haunting glow of his eyes.

"They barged the door. I couldn't break it... I tried and I tried, but it was too late. They had him on the pyre! Stakes through his body. You didn't see it, but I did!" Mircea turned to Erik, his eyes still glowing – but there was sadness instead of anger in them now.

"You spoke about necromancy when we were at university," Erik bit his lip, choosing his words with care.
"However... you never showed me the books... what if there's another way?"

Maarten let out a breath of relief – so far so good.
Erik was thinking along the same lines as himself.

"But the runes said..."
"Runes say many things," Erik smiled wryly.

Silence filled the room like fog, stifling everyone's voices.

"Runes say blood must be spilled," Arthur's voice cut through the room.
"They speak of sacrifice," he continued in a low tone.

"But what kind?!" Erik hissed, glaring at the necromancer, "I think everyone in here has suffered enough for any god out there to take some pity!"

"But the blood!" Arthur yelled in return, curling his fists and marching across the room.

"Blood has been spilled enough here. By all of us so to speak!" Erik raised his voice; and even Maarten found the whole encounter to be somewhat terrifying.

"You think you can just revive the dead by pouring water over them?" Arthur growled, furrowing his eyebrows – Maarten could see the lines of anger across the British man's face – although Erik's own expression was close to match.

"I can certainly try!" Erik sneered.

"Shut up the both of you!" Veronique screamed at the top of her lungs; Arthur jumped backwards in fear – staring at the short and tanned girl who was currently baring her own fangs at him.

"Magic doesn't only go one way! You try and bring someone back from the dead you have to give something in return – or at least prepare to give something back!"

"Yes! Precisely!" Arthur growled "So we need sacrifices!"

"No!" Veronique took a step closer "Sacrifice isn't necessarily blood! You're so far in the dark with your own magic you forgot the basic rules of magic in the first place,"

"What?" Arthur stared blankly at her.

"Everything comes back to the one who casts the spell..." Halldór interrupted, leaning against Veronique as he rubbed his still rather sore head.
"It means that if you cast something onto someone else – the chances of it coming back to you is three to twelve times as great,"

Arthur blinked in confusion.

"Good gods," Halldór sighed "Idiots,"

"There are two types of magic at the root of it all," Veronique explained, "White and black..."
"Yes...?" Arthur's attention was fully on the young vampire.

"White magic deals with casting luck and good fortune onto others – the only side effects to casting such spells is that you yourself may receive the same spell threefold or more,"

"Yes... I knew that,"

"No," Halldór shook his head. "You're forgetting that black magic does the same,"
"No I'm not. Bring someone back you need to give someone in return,"

"Not someone..." Halldór grumbled bitterly.
"The caster," Veronique finished for him with a stern expression.

"So... either he or I die?" Arthur's face went white as his gaze turned to Mircea.

"Maybe..." Mircea shrugged, seemingly un-fazed by this turn of events.
"You said we'd only need a sacrifice!"
"I said many things..." Mircea smiled brightly "I don't even remember what I said yesterday," he laughed.

Maarten could see the anger start to boil inside Arthur – the Briton was clearly ready to burst at any moment.
Which was not good.
An angry necromancer was not what they needed right now.

"Can we all just sit down and discuss this quietly?" Erik suggested.
"Oh yes. Great idea. Let's all have tea and biscuits with the two guys who tried to kill us all," Gilbert replied bitterly "What a wonderful idea,"

"Shush Gilbert," Francis elbowed him in the side.

"Truce for now maybe?" Mircea suggested brightly, all eyes on him as he spoke.

"Yes...?" Maarten replied after glancing as his friends.
"Great!" Mircea clapped his hands and before anyone could say anything else – the underground room was no more.

"What the hell?" Gilbert yelled as he realised they were all in Arthur's living room.
"Much more comfortable here, yes?" Mircea laughed.

"Shouldn't we tie them down or something?" Halldór whispered to Maarten.
"Maybe," Maarten nodded, watching Mircea drag Arthur to a sofa and making the British man sit with his legs crossed.

This was surreal.
Too surreal.

And considering there were 5 vampires, 2 humans, one necromancer and 2 half and half in the same room – that was saying something.

"So..." Mircea said, sitting comfortably next to Arthur – who was not looking too good.
"You said you could help?" his gaze wandered over to Erik and Halldór who both looked at one another a little nervously.

"Raising the dead is risky..." Erik said "I think everyone knows that..."
"Risks I can take," Mircea huffed.
"Yes. Possibly..." Erik sighed "But until recently no one thought vampires could be, uh... controlled either, and look at everyone here..." he gestured to the others and Mircea gazed lazily at them all.

"Your point is?"
"We might be able to do the impossible. But we'd need time," Halldór said.
"I gave you plenty of time," Mircea grumbled.

"No. You tried to force everyone to do as you wish without giving anyone any rhyme or reason to your ideas," Erik replied, a hint of bitterness to his tone.

"So it's my fault?"

"Yes," everyone replied at once, making Mircea jump.

"Oh..." he bit his lip and stared at the floor.

"So are we going to just forget that he killed some of us?" Gilbert asked, frowning deeply.
"I what?" Mircea jolted upright again, concern in his eyes.

"Exhibit A," Gilbert pointed to Halldór, "and exhibit B," he pointed to Cecilé.
"Hh..." Mircea swallowed nervously.

Maarten tapped his fingers against his chair, waiting to see that was going to happen now.
He could see Mircea begin to panic, the vampire's eyes darting from person to person – never lingering longer than few seconds.

Gilbert had a good point – Mircea wasn't sane.
Maarten still had half a mind to smash the guy's face in – but given the healing abilities that he possessed; a fist to Mircea's face would likely not do much damage at all.

Killing him was also an option.

Maarten still wondered if that would be for the best.
Rid the world of the vampire for good.
No more mad ideas brought to reality if you're dead.

"For all you've done... we should just send you to hell," Gilbert spat.

"You'd be coming with me then," Mircea laughed.
"Is that a threat?" Gilbert hissed, tensing his body – ready to pounce at any moment.

"No. Just how it works you know..."

"How what works?" Erik asked "Explain,"

"I'm the first one. I think so at least," Mircea shrugged "Everyone else came after due to my blood or was it magic? I forget," he shrugged before contoniing." Either way, if I die... you all die,"

"What?" Francis spluttered.

"Makes sense I suppose," Erik shrugged "Someone had to be the first vampire... right?"
"But he didn't turn me!" Francis frowned, pointing a finger accusingly at Mircea.
"Who did then?" Halldór asked.

"Uh.." Francis paused, "I was never turned as far as I'm aware. I was born a vampire. My mother was one too,"

"Could he have turned your mother or maybe there was another vampire that was turned by Mircea before then to turn your mother?" Veronique offered helpfully.
"Never mind that. What the hell do you mean that you came first and we all die if you die?" Gilbert was losing his patience by now, and it was showing.

"Vampires exist today like they do, all due to my blood or something... if I die then so do you,"
"That makes no sense," Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"I wouldn't say that," Erik shrugged "We're all a little weird here..."

"Vampirism is a little bit like a virus," Arthur said "Spreads via blood to make new ones. So if we go by that then it's likely you're all linked... Theoretically Mircea could probably control you all,"

The whole room froze, everyone staring at Mircea with the same thought in their head: had he planned this too?

"What? No. I can't do that!" Mircea shook his head "Or if I could I have forgotten..."
"Well that fills me with confidence," Gilbert sneered.

Maarten groaned.
Okay, so killing Mircea was no longer a good idea.
Not unless he wanted to rid himself of every vampire as well in the process.

Which he would have loved to have done just a few weeks ago.
Now?
No. He couldn't.