Asmodeus glared in fury—first at Bogel and Weerd, and then at the Time Worm.
"Explain to me," he growled. "Just how did all three of you manage to fail in carrying out my instructions!?"
The worm let out a frightened hiss, still shivering from taking Vincent's Blizzara spell head-on.
"What he said, Boss," Bogel gulped.
"Your descendent just has this knack of striking sheer terror into the hearts of whatever he chooses to," Weerd explained.
Asmodeus now let out an angry roar, causing the three to cringe from the ensuing shockwave.
"…Suddenly, it's clear where he gets it from," Bogel added, as he cowered before the Demon King.
"Look, Boss, we tried—I thought you said the worm was supposed to hold off Vincent while we snagged those three kids at the base!" Weerd yelped. "Vincent just showed up before we could even make a move to grab 'em!"
The worm hissed again, as though explaining that it would not have lasted much longer against Vincent's Blizzara spell, nor avoid capture in the Chest.
Asmodeus snarled, glaring back into his scrying pool.
"The traitor continues to vex me," he growled. "Even now, he stands guard not far from where those mortals are staying for the night. I will not be able to get near them."
"You're afraid of him, too, huh?" Weerd noted.
Asmodeus whirled around, seizing the ghost in his clawed hand, prompting Weerd to whimper in utter fright.
"Don't you ever make that assumption again!"
"Y-Yes, Sir!" Weerd squeaked, as Bogel covered his eyes with his hands. "I mean… No, Sir! I mean… Whatever you say, Sir!"
Asmodeus let him drop, and he landed on Bogel, prompting the shorter ghost to let out a pained yelp.
Asmodeus returned to look into the scrying pool once more.
"As long as they hold the Chest of Demons, the Time Worm runs the risk of getting captured if we try an underground attack again," he growled. "Bogel, Weerd—you can bring the girl to me another time; right now, I want you to focus on bringing the Chest to me, by any means necessary."
"Uh, wha—?" Bogel gulped.
"Was I unclear?" Asmodeus fumed, glaring at him.
"N-No, Boss," Bogel said. "It's just that… we've tried so many times to get the Chest from those kids… Nothing has worked."
"And Vincent isn't far from those kids, you said," Weerd squeaked. "He's probably got protection spells up around them, and—"
"Then try something else—keep trying until you get the Chest!" Asmodeus roared. "GO!"
Whimpering and sniveling, the two ghosts fled the cave once more. The Time Worm curled up in the back of the cave to recover from its encounter with Vincent as Asmodeus glared at Vincent through the scrying pool.
Asmodeus had been initially thrilled when, in the early 1600s, he and the other 12 ghosts had found themselves freed from the Chest by his own descendant, a powerful warlock in his own right. But Asmodeus's joy had been short-lived upon seeing the look of horror and revulsion on Vincent's face as he realized what he had unleashed by accident—and soon, he had felt nothing but anger towards Vincent's betrayal, for Vincent had chosen to side with that mortal—Mortifer Quinch—to recapture all of them in the Chest.
And he had done it—though Asmodeus had, at least, ensured it had been a hollow victory by slaying Mortifer before being sealed. That memory was obviously the reason why Vincent was standing guard over those mortal youngsters now—he was determined not to let them suffer the same fate.
Asmodeus sneered. Vincent was willing to try all he wanted; Asmodeus would still find a way to get them out of the way. More than that, he needed Vincent to please Lord Hades; he just needed an opportunity to put all his power into their blood magic bond, and he would be able to control him—he had almost succeeded in fully taking him over the last time; Mortifer had been trying to put a stop to it, which was why Asmodeus had swiftly retaliated against him—that, somehow, had allowed Vincent to break free long enough to seal him.
This time, Asmodeus vowed, the moment he gained any sort of control over Vincent through their blood magic, he would have him strike the mortals down by his own hand without hesitation—and he'd start with Vincent's so-called "heiress." That, surely, would break Vincent once and for all and allow Asmodeus to gain full control over him and deliver him to Hades at last.
…But this was not the opportune moment. Vincent was being extremely vigilant and would fight the moment Asmodeus even attempted to approach him or the others—and it was a fight that, presently, Asmodeus knew he wouldn't be able to win.
He'd waited nearly two years for his revenge—a little longer wouldn't make a difference. And if the Time Worm could end up speeding things up a little, then that was perfectly fine by him.
The gang slept peacefully, for the most part; worries about the Time Worm and Bogel and Weerd were enough to keep Shaggy and Scooby from getting too relaxed—and Daphne had those to worry about on top of her issues with her parents. Shaggy, Flim-Flam, and the dogs were just as sympathetic as Fred and Velma had been, and though she appreciated it, Daphne still hadn't divulged the worst of the conversation.
They all crammed into the Mystery Machine the next morning to head to the base; Vincent had teleported there just ahead of them—having long since mastered the trick of "act like you belong and people will rarely question you," no one had bothered about him showing up, having just assumed he had come in with Velma's group, and Velma had assumed he'd entered via his own pass.
After reporting to Dr. Midori, Velma turned to the others.
"As I thought, we'll be proceeding with the launch as scheduled," she said. "My family should be here soon; I'll need to let them onto the base. Just make yourselves at home."
Shaggy looked as though he was about to say something.
"The vending machines are down the hall," Velma informed him, with a smile.
"Perfect; c'mon, Scoob—let's get our second breakfast!"
"Rheah!"
Velma shook her head as she headed towards the entrance as Shaggy and Scooby barreled into the other hallway, followed by Flim-Flam and Scrappy.
Fred glanced at Daphne and shrugged.
"I think I could go for a post-breakfast snack, too. How about you?"
"I'm not really hungry," Daphne sighed. "Considering everything that's been on my mind since yesterday…"
"Oh. Hang in there, huh?"
"Thanks, Freddie."
She sighed as he went join the others by the vending machine, and turned to face Vincent, who was still watching her in concern.
"Can we talk?" she asked.
"Anytime you like," he said. "I imagine you've had a lot on your mind given the Time Worm and those ghosts showing up here while you're trying to keep all of this secret."
"I have, but that isn't what I wanted to talk about," she admitted. "I wanted to ask you something else."
"Oh? Go on."
She hesitated.
"It's… a bit personal."
"After everything we've been through, I'd say that you and the others have more than earned the right to ask me anything. Depending on the topic, I may refrain from answering, but I won't be offended by your questions."
"Okay, here goes…" Daphne sighed. "You, um… You mentioned some time back that most of your family before you chose not to awaken their mana and become mages because of Asmodeus, but you decided that you didn't want your talents to go to waste, so you awakened your mana and became a warlock."
"Yes, that's correct."
"…How did your family take your decision?" she asked.
"Well…" Vincent mused, thinking about it. "I imagine, given how young I was at the time I decided that I wanted to cultivate my talents, they were hoping I'd reconsider when I got old enough to start my academy training."
"Did they try to talk you out of it?"
"Oh, most certainly—again and again. However, it was all in vain, for I'd made it clear that this was what I wanted for myself, and I was quite stubborn in my youth—not unlike yourself." He bit back a smirk as she gave him an indignant look. "And I mean that in the best possible way; it is thanks to your tenacity, as well as the others', that I'm alive now—and on more than one occasion, yet."
"Maybe so," she said. "But did your family…? After you started your academy training, did they ever…?"
She kept trailing off, unable to finish her sentence, and Vincent grew concerned; something serious must have just happened between her and her parents for her to completely set aside the Time Worm and instead be completely preoccupied with this.
"Did they… what?" he prompted, gently.
"Did they… ever let it slip that they'd secretly wanted you to fail?" Daphne blurted out.
There was a minute of utter silence in the room as Vincent looked to her in stunned surprise. His expression then softened, and he offered his left hand—his dominant hand—to her, which she immediately grabbed; though she struggled to keep calm, the warlock could feel her trembling.
"I fear you aren't speaking hypothetically," he sighed.
She shook her head.
"I really thought my parents had moved past this," she said. "Especially after all the arguments and discussions we'd had after I'd turned 18 about how I didn't want to be in the corporate world. Solving mysteries and chasing ghosts is who I am! Sitting around in a drab office all day isn't me!"
"It would be a waste to see you end up like that," Vincent agreed. "Especially if you knew you wouldn't enjoy it."
"Right! Being an investigative reporter would let me solve mysteries for a living—it did once I managed to convince my parents to let me go for it—or, at least, I thought I had convinced them." She sighed. "They'd called yesterday…" She stared at the wall. "I told them last night when they called me at the banquet that Shaggy and I had passed our performance reviews at the Chronicle a couple months ago and that we'd become full-fledged members of their investigative reporting team, ready to write an article for the launch. …I was expecting a 'Good job' or a 'Well done,' but my father didn't say anything, and my mother just let out this disappointed 'Oh…' noise. When they called back again later last night while I was here at the base, I asked her what that was supposed to mean." A frown crossed her face. "She said, 'Don't you think you've spent enough time doing this silly journalism bit? You gave it a try, but now it's time to come home and help run the family business.' My father added that he'd expected that I would have lost interest by now—that he and Mom had expected me to come home after giving it a try all this time. Well, naturally, I was furious—I asked if they really weren't proud that the Chronicle had hired Shaggy and me. You know what Mom said!? 'We were expecting that you would come home after you saw that you weren't meant to be a journalist—in fact, we were banking on it.' They really just decided that they didn't want to fight me on the topic and let me go when I was 18—but they'd wanted me to fail! They'd wanted me to just give up on my dreams so that I'd do what they wanted!"
"What did you tell them after that?" Vincent asked.
"Nothing—I hung up, and then those ghosts showed up," Daphne admitted. "They tried calling back, but I refused to take the call. There's more, too; Mom and Dad are putting the old house up for sale since it's mostly going unused—but it's obvious that the real reason is so that I can't stay there and would have to go back and live with them, or try to get a place of my own—which they would have to cosign, since I'd be a first-time renter. Thankfully, they don't know about you and the castle." She gave a satisfied smirk. "Little do they know that going back to Blake Manor would be a step down from Castle Van Ghoul. Anyway, I told them to go ahead and put the house up for sale—if you can teleport me there after this whole mess with the Time Worm is over so that I can pick up the rest of my stuff, I'd appreciate it. The others, too—they have things stored there. I know I'll be okay, but… I feel so betrayed. I thought that everything was finally fine—when we visited the manor for the masquerade party, my parents didn't even bring it up at all; I really thought it was all behind us…"
She trailed off with a quiet sob, and gave the warlock a quick hug. Vincent returned the hug, hoping that he could provide some comfort.
"I am sorry, Daphne," he said, sincerely. "You do know, of course, that I couldn't be prouder of you for everything that you've accomplished—both as a journalist and as a ghost hunter."
"I know," she said. "And that means so much to me. It's nice to know that I've got you in my corner, at least. Who needs them, anyway?"
Vincent hesitated.
"Daphne, I am honored and moved that we share such a strong tie—you are like a daughter to me, without question. But you and I both know that I cannot replace your parents."
"I wouldn't want you to," Daphne said. "I'm just saying that I don't really need them anymore because I know you've got my back."
"And I do," Vincent agreed. "And I wish to offer the wisdom of my years and say that you might want to reconsider cutting ties with your parents over this. Granted, they hurt you—but it wasn't done with malicious intent. The latter would be something to cut ties over, as I did with Asmodeus. You do have a legitimate reason to be upset with them—I'm not disputing that. But it sounds as though the conversation was emotionally charged, and you know as well as I do how that can lead to things being said that were never meant to be said. You and I have had our misunderstandings that led to us being temporarily at odds."
"I know," Daphne recalled. "But we both apologized."
"And do you truly think there is no scope for an apology from your parents?" Vincent asked. "I don't think they quite realize how much they've hurt you, but I expect they'll be aware soon enough."
"…Yeah," Daphne mused. "Probably when I move the rest of my stuff from the house—only to announce that I'm not coming home like they thought. They'll figure it out then."
"Far be it from me to tell you what to do," Vincent added. "But I would, at least, give them the chance to apologize before you sever those ties. In the end, of course, the choice is yours—and I will stand by whatever you decide. But I offer this advice as someone who went through something similar." He exhaled.
Daphne looked at him, questioningly.
"You're not talking about Asmodeus now, are you?" she realized. "You're talking about someone else."
"Yes," Vincent admitted. "I wasn't much older than you when I had that duel on the mountaintop in that other dimension. And you know what happened once I realized the danger my powers could cause."
"You pushed your old gang away," she recalled. "But I thought Mr. Voudini stayed in touch with you, and most of the others…" She trailed off. "…Is… is this why we haven't spoken to Miranda Muir in the two years we've known you? …You haven't spoken to her since… all the way back then, over 1,900 years!? But… why!?"
"There was an added layer to our relationship that complicated matters," Vincent said, after a moment. "…Before this all happened, Miranda and I were engaged."
"…Oh, no…"
"Very aptly put," Vincent sighed. "Words were exchanged between us—sharp ones. We broke it off, and we simultaneously decided that the best course of action was to put some distance between us. As time went on, neither of us seemed to drum up the nerve to try to rebuild the bridge we burned—in spite of the others trying to act as go-betweens. She and I haven't spoken since."
"I'm so sorry," Daphne said, as she hugged him again.
"I appreciate the sentiments, but the point I'm trying to make is that you don't want to have any regrets," Vincent said, returning the hug again. "As I said, I'll stand by whatever you decide, but you will think about it?"
"I will," she promised. "I'll keep it in mind."
"And that's all I could ever ask of you," Vincent replied, with a smile.
And Daphne smiled back. There was still much to think and worry about, but at least she felt slightly better about the whole ordeal.