I sent this chapter in ASAP because it's so short. I figured I'd be GOOD about updating for once.
Big fight finale starts next chapter. Then there will be that alternate ending I'm sure I've mentioned before, which will be discussed further when the time comes.
The unicorn poo thing was inspired by a T-shirt of mine.
Andy pulled back a little curtain on the RV window, reaching over the table to do so. It was a lovely night out, about eight PM, brisk and cool and dry with late winter lightness in the air. They were in some slightly mountainous area, in an odd clearing made mostly of dry and dirty ground, but forests were visible in the distance. "It's so awesome out. No wayyy." Andy said, grinning. "Yeah?" He turned to Pete.
Pete turned his scowl to the window and shrugged, but smiled just a bit upon making eye contact with Andy. Then he turned away, giving Andy a chance to look him over. It was his usual look, dark hair shadowing part of his face, hands in the pocket of a hoodie (red today), slouch. Usual pale skin, skinny body, dark bags under his eyes. Ew, how long has he looked this sickly? Oh well, good thing the cure's found. "Do you see him?"
In response to this, Pete leaned over and looked out the window. "Uh, no."
"What other ingredients do you think went into the cure?" Andy was trying to keep a lighthearted mood.
"Pixie dust," Pete half-smiled.
"Glitter," Andy agreed.
"Confetti,"
"Unicorn poo,"
Pete actually laughed.
Patrick walked by them with a plastic bag. "He's here. Let's go." Joe quickly followed him, also with a plastic bag.
Andy bounded after them as Pete lifted himself out of the booth. Pete took one last glance around the inside of the RV before stepping out.
Patrick, Joe, and Andy were lined up the side of the RV. Pete joined them. He stared straight ahead, putting on a face that was as stark and blank as possible. "Hi."
The Dark Priest nodded. "Excuse my rudeness, but I was hoping we could skip the formalities for tonight. I'm going to guess that you don't mind…?"
Pete nodded in the same way he did.
Patrick looked between the two. "Here's our half of the ingredients," Patrick stepped forward and handed the priest his bag, and Joe did the same. "We did our half."
The Dark Priest emptied all the bags carefully and set them out in a perfect line. He fingered them all, inspecting them, the sage, the vampire blood, the wine. Finally, after a couple minutes, he looked up. "Very good." He turned to his side, where he had the materials for a fire ready on a small, brushed about plot of dirt. He put the Yule log he had been given just now on the plot and started a fire. The four vigilantes sat in a simultaneous motion, waiting patiently for the fire to start. Once the small batch of flames was going strong, he put the ingredients carefully in a large metal pot he had brought with him. It was not a fairy tale wicked with style cauldron, just a normal kitchen pan, contrary to what the other four men had pictured. He added some plain water to the mixture, and a few slips of something the others couldn't see. Pete was trying to lean forward to see exactly what it was. He couldn't, and opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and crossed his arms.
The priest set it over the fire. "We have to wait for it to come to a boil, then let it go for a few minutes."
"How long exactly?" Patrick was quick to ask. His eyes were invisible under the shadow of his denim cap's brim.
"It doesn't really matter, but five minutes should be sufficient, one or two minutes would not be enough and nine and ten are too much."
Patrick nodded and bit his thumbnail.
"When that's done, we'll take it off the heat and strain the solid ingredients. Would you like to take it first, Peter?" he asked Pete.
Pete had his eyes fixed on the pot. Hearing someone speak prompted him to look up. "Huh? My name's not Peter. What?"
"Will you be taking the cure first?"
"Oh, it's ready? Really? That was… fast."
The priest just blinked, his eyes only partly shadowed by his dark brown bowler hat. "If you have doubts, I don't mind being the first."
"Yeah, you do it." Narrowing his eyes, Pete pretended to pass off his nervousness as suspicion.
The Dark Priest adjusted the position of the pot on the stove. It had barely come to a boil. "Now that it's coming to a-"
SHUNK.
Patrick was the first to jerk backwards and yell out a yelp as they all looked toward the source of the noise, the Dark Priest's chest. A bloodied stake was sticking out, with bits of something else on it.
He looked down at it as he slowly began to fade away at his hands. "How sacrilegious. I really should have prepared some last words."
The other four just looked behind him.
Amy, dressed in an elaborate black lace dress, winked at them. "You must admit that was a good shot."