"Never attempt to win by force what can be won by deception."
― Niccolo Machiavelli, 'The Prince'
"Sean's" POV:
'This evening definitely did NOT go as planned.'
How the hell was he supposed to know that she had a God dammed DRUID RING?! Where in blue bloody hell did she even fucking get that thing?! Christ! those things sting like a bitch!
After I got her off my tail and shadow stepped my ass out of there, I wandered aimlessly around the city, my rage growing with every step. That brat didn't even know what she was wearing on her finger! This was the first time I'd seen it on her; It was complete and utter Dumb fucking luck that she chose this particular day to wear that charm. I'd established enough of a relationship with her to begin undermining Dark's handiwork; It was easy, with her being so pathetically attention starved and all. I had been planning to make a move that night. Shit!
I was so. Damn. CLOSE!
I called her that morning with two goals in mind; to reveal Dark, and then myself. I knew when she watched that buffoon's videos she'd figure it out:
Darkiplier.
The link he'd established was strong, it was true; after all, he did have months to work with. But once again, the art of subtlety escaped him. He tried to base their link off of fear, working his way into her mind by crushing her barriers, bit by bit, until she would be too afraid to defy him. The only way he seems to operate is by force; His lack of imagination never ceased to amaze me.
MY way is better though; to hunt a human, you have to think like a human. Convince them you're compassionate, that you care. It takes a gentle hand to control them, especially ones like her. Unlike Dark, I find footholds in the insecurities that are already there instead of barging in and making a few dents of my own, so I go undetected. Slow. Subtle. Feeding those weaknesses, giving them what they want... it takes days rather than months. That's the way you do it.
I had revealed Dark's identity to Jericho in order to lessen her fear of the unknown, thus weakening the bond that he had forced between them. Bonds of that nature are only as strong as the victims believe them to be. That last step combined with the 'friendship' I'd built between us would have allowed me the leverage I needed to extinguish any traces of Dark's influence from her mind. I was so sure of it. But it had all been for nothing.
And I still have no idea whatever happened to Mikhail. I've seen no trace of him since he talked with Jericho last week. True, he's been out of action for a score, but I don't think he'd just up and leave.
And her parents. What did they have to do with all this? How did they get their hand on a druid relic? The fact that they even had one in their possession made their disappearance way more suspicious. Were they hunters? knights? councilmen? or paranormal, like us? I couldn't sense anything from them in the brief moments I'd spent outside their apartment. The only thing of any real consequence in that house was the girl.
In any case, it was too late; she was protected. I'd missed my chance. I would get to Dark one way or another though, be it through her or not. I smirked.
He won't even see me coming.
Jericho POV:
I stayed there for the longest time, confused tears threatening to spill onto my cheeks. Why had Sean yelled at me, glare at me like that? Had I done something wrong and somehow destroyed one of the only friendships I'd ever had? I was cut off from my entire family. My parents were gone, turning my home into a simple house. Even had left, and now the only thing that I could focus on to keep me from the edge of insanity was gone too. My worst fear had come true; There was no one I could turn to, no one I could love and be loved by. I was left in the dark... Actually, Not even that. Dark had left too. How ironic.
I had nothing.
My heart hurt.
Maybe I would just disappear, like I told Dark...Darkiplier. Maybe I'd walk out into the snow again and let it swallow me now that he wasn't around to save me.
I numbly drove home, not really feeling the cold. The tightness in my chest won out over any physical discomfort I felt. I walked in the door, tossing aside my backpack, stickbag, and coats, not caring in the slightest where they landed. I started to my room when I heard a soft voice call to me from the living room. "Ms. Winters."
Oh my God. I knew that voice.
I bolted back into the living room. He was perched comfortably on the couch, hands folded atop casually crossed legs. I grinned so wide that I think my lip he was, the one and only:
Dr. Michael Ikard.
I'd never been so happy to see his snooty, pompous face. I laughed out loud, dashing over to give him a hug where he sat. He stiffened a bit before raising an arm to pat my back awkwardly. Poor guy didn't know what to do with himself. I pulled back, taking a breath to ask him where he'd been, were my parents okay, what did he know about Dark-
As if he could sense the inevitable verbal onslaught, he held a hand up, shaking his head slightly. "Please refrain from asking any questions at the moment. I just need your ears for now."
Ugh. Despite everything, he was still the same asshole. It sure didn't take him long to get back on my bad side, did it? But I remained silent like he asked.
He leaned back tiredly into the couch with a heavy sigh. " -Jericho- we need to talk. I shouldn't have waited this long. I endangered your life by keeping you in the dark, a choice I now deeply regret."
I looked at him in surprise, not knowing what to say. We just observed each other for a moment. I took the time to actually look at him; he was not in good shape. Oh my God... I don't know how I didn't notice before. The man looked like he'd been mauled by a tiger, for fuck's sake! His perfect hair was matted and unkempt. His suit, always impeccably ironed and pressed, was shredded and soaked with old blood stains. His pants were in the same sorry condition. I ran over and flipped on the light switch, gasping at the sight before me.
He had several major wounds that I hadn't seen in the dim light; a wicked looking scar slicing over his left eye spanning from just above his brow to a couple inches into his cheek. There were four deep gashes that looked like they were made by claws of some sort slashed diagonally from his right shoulder to below his collar bone. The marks looked like they continued behind his back. There was huge, Multi-colored bruise around his neck, like something had tried to strangle him. I counted at least ten more significant injuries as my eyes took inventory of his pitiful state.
I met his eyes again. " ..." I said slowly, "What happened to you?"
He smiled mirthlessly at me. "Like I said, ..."
"We need to talk."