Chapter Two – Whimper(s)
The next two weeks crawled by at a snail's pace.
The leaves were no longer changing and November turned into December. The first snow fell, but no one could get out to enjoy it. Sarah spent the lonesome days pacing back and forth in her bedroom, pensive, and honestly, a hint disturbed. She should be happy. Shouldn't she? Everything she had been hoping for the two years had finally come true. She was no longer a blood-sucking creature of the night!
She could enter her own home unannounced, and be re-introduced to all her favorite foods. She didn't have to hide from her parents anymore. She could even admire her own reflection. She had begun to feel things again, like the unmistakable battering of butterflies…
Sarah shook her head vehemently. She couldn't let herself get sidetracked. The young woman had two weeks – two full weeks! – to once again discover how to handle human emotion, and she was going to become a master at it, goddammit.
New Text Message from: Ethan Morgan – December 4, 2:05pm
Hey, you okay?
Sarah hesitated for a few seconds, with her fingers hovering over the keys, before groaning in defeat and squeezing the life out of the lock button on her smart phone. She collapsed onto her bed and flung her arms over her eyes until she began to see stars.
The Whitechapel authorities instituted a two-week quarantine. The DEA classified the anomalous event – or "totally wicked explosion," as the five-year-old who lived across the street from Sarah called it – as an irregularity due to excessive detriment from the Whitechapel power plant. The plant was consequently shut down and was now under re-evaluation and reconstruction. Whitechapel High School deemed it, "an early winter break," and a "gift to their hard-working and talented students." No doubt a ploy to keep up morale, Sarah thought bitterly. Several weeks ago, if you had asked her if she was looking forward to December, the answer would have been, yes, yes, yes!
The young woman and her best vampire girlfriend, Erica Jones, had planned a brief ski trip to a lodging resort (and spa!) the first weekend of December. It was the only thing Sarah had been looking forward to, in what felt like forever. Something normal. Now, she was sulking miserably (albeit human) around her room with nothing but the insistent vibration of her cell phone to keep her company. And the source of the buzzing was the absolute last person she wanted to talk to at the moment. That's right, Sarah "Fighterina" Fox was petrified to send Ethan "the Nerd King" Morgan even the measliest of text messages.
Draft to: Ethan Morgan – December 4, 2:09pm
Hey, Ethan. I've been thinking about you, about us.
That's all it took. And Sarah was unsure if it was pride, humiliation, or something bigger, but whatever it was, the sinking, twisting, and utterly nauseating feeling wouldn't let her concede whatever she was feeling out loud, let alone to herself. The young woman had always been the resolute stubborn type. And so, rather than accept her recent fall from self-perceived grace, she left her infuriatingly active phone on her pillow, and proceeded to head downstairs to start on a batch of feeling-numbing (not craving-numbing) cookies with her mom. At that thought, Sarah allowed herself a small smile in her agitated state.
Ethan was feeling even more forlorn, lost… or perhaps lost in translation was the better term for it.
He had tried just about everything he could think of. Yoga with his mom and her midlife crisis yogis, multiple nights of ten hours of sleep, a mind-numbing amount of video games… but he still couldn't remember jack squat. Several integral minutes from the night of the lucifractor incident, just… gone.
The last thing he coherently remembered was forcibly entering Stern's mind, only to be ejected like a rag-doll moments later. Then there's only feelings: fear, anger, hatred… and purpose. The next thing he recalled was rousing to find the lucifractor an inert, black sphere in his hand, not Stern's, and Sarah's piercing and inquiring gaze from the room.
Now, Ethan was one to compartmentalize. After noting that Stern was unconscious on the floor (should they have checked for a pulse?) his next thought was of his friends.
Sarah. She was okay. Visibly shaken, but okay.
Benny. Semi-conscious and most definitely concussed, but alive. He was okay. They were okay.
Typical of Jesse to take off as soon as there's a mess to clean up. Ethan wondered whether he should check-in with him somehow – on second thought – how about absolutely, most definitely not ever again. Ethan could simply get a read on the vampires of Whitechapel from Erica or their goofier friend, Rory Keaner, if he could actually manage to get ahold of them. Ethan wasn't too worried. He knew from experience that vampire law forbade harm to one's own kind. Thus, he knew that as long as his friends were with the council, they were safe. However, Ethan didn't know whether they made it outside Whitechapel in enough time to resist the cure. He hoped to God they didn't.
Ethan wasn't the type to be content sitting and waiting around for something to happen. Whitechapel, however, was not too keen on him investigating the whereabouts of the players from that fateful night. He had tried to sneak out two – no, maybe three times, only to end up being dragged back to his front doorstep by a walking buddy cop movie in hazmat suits. Typical.
So instead, Ethan spent the days off from school playing board and card games with his family, sulking in his room following yet another double or triple text (he lost count) to his girlfriend, erm uh – friend that's a girl? – Sarah, and of course, video-chatting Benny. The latter would have been more fun if his friend weren't totally messed up from that accident during the whole lucifractor ordeal.
Supposedly, Benny had been in and out of consciousness for a full 48 hours, according to Grandma, and for the ensuing five days only left his room a couple times for slices of cold pizza. Apparently, three out of the five days he forgot to heat it up. If he got out of bed or up from a sitting position, his head would spin so intensely that he'd have to lay back down immediately. He didn't start speaking coherently until the sixth day. Only the seventh day did he start to feel better. But he remained fatigued, ornery (even for Benny), and complained of some seriously abysmal tinnitus. Grandma said she performed some spell that allowed her to assess Benny's brain structure and function out of an abundance of caution (Ethan really, really hoped it involved X-ray vision) and afterwards had remarked that he would be alright given a lot of rest and relaxation.
Video call from Benjamin Weir. ACCEPT / DENY
"Yellooo?"
"Hey, Benny."
"OW! Ethan… quiet, quiet, shhh… why are you yelling?"
"Uh, you're yelling."
"Well, yeah. I still can't really hear shit. What's up, man?"
"Not much. Just played another round of chips with my parents and Jane."
"Who won?"
"Who do you think?"
"Jane… that little rascal. I'm still convinced she's got some tricks up her sleeve. Maybe next time if I just inspect her more closely- "
"Have you heard from Sarah?"
"Sarah? As in, your babysitter, Sarah?
"No, the other Sarah."
"I haven't. Sorry, dude. But hey, we'll be back at school in a few days. You'll see her then, yeah?"
"I guess…"
"The luci-whatever was wack, man. I don't blame her for taking a little time to herself."
"Yeah. Hey, you don't happen to know what happened… I-I mean… between Stern and I – or the lucifractor and Stern – or- "
"What? You mean you don't remember?"
"…No"
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Well. I-I don't either. Sorry, man. Everything before lights out went just – poof! – straight to the void."
"I understand."
"…"
"What's the last thing you remember?"
"Uh, running? Yeah, running. Lots and lots of running. Then, uh… I don't know, something must have hit my head, or knocked me unconscious."
"You don't remember how you got back to the grand room?"
"…"
"…"
"No."
"Oh."
"Yeah. Hey man, I uh… got to go… help Grandma with something. Dinner, you say? At your service, my liege! Later, Ethan."
"Later…Benny."
End call.
The grand room? Benny's best friend hovering ten feet above the ground like a freaking Grecian demigod… flinging electricity around like it was his bitch?! Oh yeah. Benny remembered it all right. Severely concussed or not, Benny couldn't ever forget the sheer terror he felt not only for – but of – his friend. Now what to do with that information… He had no freaking clue!
Sent to: Sarah Fox – December 4, 2:53pm
SOS E's asking whether I remember all that superhero shit. What do I do?!
Sarah Fox – December 4, 2:54pm
Nothing yet. We have to make sure it's super "hero" and not super "villain"
Sent to: Sarah Fox – December 4, 2:54pm
Ethan's no super villain.
Sarah Fox – December 4, 3:17pm
I know. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just worried about him, that's all.
Sent to: Sarah Fox – December 4, 3:20pm
Not worried enough to check up on him apparently
Sarah Fox – December 4, 6:17pm
Whatever. Look, I'll see you on Monday. Take care of yourself, alright?
Sent to: Sarah Fox – December, 6:22pm
Alright. See you
Benny was frustrated with Sarah, to say the least. He was self-aware enough to know it was slightly misdirected in his own self-interest. Benny was not dumb (though many would attest otherwise). He knew deep down he was lying to his best friend. But he also knew that Sarah was right. It was their job to look after Ethan, to keep him safe. Grandma said so. And what Grandma says goes… for better or for worse. They had to do more research on the lucifractor and Ethan's seer powers before his inevitable S.H.I.E.L.D. intervention. For Ethan's sake.
Erica Jones, on the other hand, thought she may have had just about enough of that stupid… iridescent… vampire-hating knick-knack-thingy. Covered in a fresh layer of sweat blessed upon her by the great outdoors, the young vampire's fangs were most certainly in a twist. She yanked the thin outer cover of her cheap, pitched tent open and marched a couple of feet over to the larger, what could only be described as an "undead glam-ping" tent. Erica swatted an earful of gnats away and stormed up to the entrance. The beefy guards posted up there quickly moved out of the way as soon as they noticed her approaching. The members of Whitechapel's flock of whom were the most afraid of the vicious blonde bombshell were apparently also the largest.
"Alllllrighty, where is miss prissy pants? I've just about had it!" The young vampiress paraded up the candlelit black carpet towards a handful of the council's finest leaders. Upon reaching her destination, Erica proceeded to accost a bowl of fruit. What. Did the council. Need. With a bowl. Of fruit?!
"I just so happen to like pineapple." Anastasia said offhandedly; golden eyes aflame, as if reading Erica's mind.
"Whatever, small child. Look – I've had it with summer camp. If you haven't noticed, BOOM! Whoosh… plop. Explosion over. Great. Now let's. go. HOME!"
Anastasia rolled her child-like (like, because she's probably what? Like a gazillion years old?) eyes and huffed in amusement, "Have you no respect for your elders?"
Erica paused thoughtfully. "I suppose I am starting to sound a bit like Sarah. Well, so be it, alright?! I've had it with happy trails." Anastasia's eyes began to glow once again, to which Erica wagged a furious finger, "And don't you dare glamour me again. I'm not some glitzy puppet. Tough buns, missy, because me, myself and I will be heading back to Whitechapel." Erica turned on her heel with a start, "alone."
Sure enough, she was face to face with everyone's favorite vampire ninja.
"Rory!" Anastasia snapped, "What have we told you about eavesdropping on vampire council matters?"
"Only if it benefits the good of vamp-iety." Rory mumbled disinterestedly, taking a keen interest in his muddied shoes.
"Precisely. Now, back to the matter at hand. No, Erica, you cannot go galivanting back through Whitechapel. It's not safe for our kind. We told you before, we'll tell you a hundred times. We have eyes everywhere, and we will let you know when it is safe to return. Now, Rory – go fetch me some more pineapple. Hawaiian crown, not Dole." The elder vampiress waved her pointer finger lazily towards the entrance of the dark and brooding glam-ing tent. Rory nodded with enthusiasm, merrily starting on his way to begin a long, long journey… until he was held back at the collar by his feistier companion.
"First of all, tiny gremlin, Rory is my devoted play thing, so back off." Rory's previously glamoured face broke out into a wide grin at his fangy friend's statement. She was protective over him. She needed him. She loved-
"SECOND, I don't give a graveyard rat's ass about the council's orders. I present, item number one: my cell phone. A 6G, your minute highness, – lost bars and service days ago. I am not going to sit around and twiddle my thumbs, while Whitechapel's greatest force of nature takes a back seat! We're vampires, goddammit! Soulless, undead, creatures of the night! We should storm our home and take it back." Rory began to nod with gusto at Erica's statement and flashed a cheeky double thumbs up.
"Yeah! What she said!"
If Anastasia's eyes could roll back into her skull until they high-fived her brain, they would have. "What do you care of your so-called home, anyway, Erica? Just a few months ago, you were willing to throw it all away for some Dusk-inspired teenage dream."
At that, Erica's nostrils flared and her teeth clenched.
"Look. I just need to know that Sarah's alright, okay? Can I at least like… hitch-hike to the nearest hick town for some cell service? Maybe grab a snack along the way? I'll bring you back a bite." Erica chaunted and flashed her fangs, winking playfully – and still, attempting to hold her annoyance at bay.
Anastasia stood up quickly and slammed her palms against the elders' long table. "Your ungrateful heathen of a 'friend' is fine. In fact, she got what she always wanted." A dangerous smirk played at the corner of the elder vampiress' lips.
"Y-You lying twat! You told me you had no intel on Sarah!" Erica cried, fangs flaring viciously.
"Erica, have I shared the absolute nature of the lucifractor with you?" Anastasia crossed the floor from her Victorian-style chair to reach a thick and dusty bound book at the end of their highness' table of prejudicial and hoity-toity judgement.
"There's a reason you would've?" Erica grimaced and watched her elder make her way to the archives on-demand.
"It's chock-full of dark energy. Swallows it up. Like a long-term storage unit." The elder vampiress finished.
"Okay?" Erica scowled. "Is this like the weirdest episode of Hoarders ever or- "
"Erica," Anastasia waved her hand, disinterestedly, "are you familiar with the principle of energy conservation?"
"The first law of thermodynamics." Erica shrugged in an easy fashion, to which Anastasia raised an eyebrow.
"Nerd alert!" Rory grinned and punched Erica good-humoredly on the arm, much to her distaste.
"Uh, I-I mean… ugh, alright. Energy is not created or destroyed, blah blah blah. Advanced chemistry was a snooze fest, alright?
So, you're saying the magic from the lucifractor had to go somewhere. So what? It's no longer accessible, and according to your 'intel'," Erica threw up sardonic air-quotes, "Stern couldn't handle it, equals vamps no longer in danger, right?" She crossed her arms and sported a glower.
"Clearly, Erica, it depends on where that magic went." Anastasia frowned. "Stern is dead. That means that somehow, the source of the object's power was re-directed and re-purposed by someone else to take him out. Stern was an experienced – albeit brash – wizard. If he couldn't handle it- "
"Someone else there had to have?" Erica's eyebrows furrowed, "No way, El Merlo Loco had anything to do with that." She scoffed.
"What about Jesse?" Rory piped up, to the girls' indifference. "He's old and all powerful and all that."
Anastasia shook her head regretfully. "Reverend Horace Black is a lot of things, but no vampire can even come close to the lucifractor without it suctioning every ounce of power we wield." She annunciated with a hint of disgust, "No, it had to have been someone else." Erica and Rory watched the elder vampiress as she flipped through a copious number of pages until she reached the archaic image of an intricately hand drawn eyeball. She brushed her dainty fingers over the scrawl carefully with a meditative, but steady expression on her face. "A seer."
Erica and Rory looked at each other, uncertainly.
"A long time ago, there was a hale and hearty, balanced triad of magic in the world. There was dark magic, often exercised by conniving wizards – we think of them as spellmasters gone bad – and sovereign vampires… then light magic, harnessed by seers. Neutral magic existed to delineate a balance between the two necessary elements, and was often safeguarded by intelligent, and gifted spellmasters." Erica and Rory snorted, rudely interrupting their elder's lengthy monologue.
Anastasia shot them a dirty look; eyes aflame. Erica quickly indicated that her lips were sealed, while Rory's eyes began to widen in anticipation; he was still stupendously fascinated by the council's story. Maybe Hogwarts was real! There was still a chance!
"Seers were super empowering, meaning they could grant magical abilities to others they deemed worthy. Unfortunately, those who exercised the dark arts weren't at all pleased by this. Super empowering was congenital, and could not be learned, much like other magic.
Fueled by jealousy, they devised that if they could somehow take this power, they could build an army large enough to take out our kind, and finally end the centuries-long war over the sole control of dark magic. You see, the lucifractor was created to absorb and repurpose that power for evil." A shadow passed over Erica's eyes. Rory's mind was elsewhere, distracted by a black fly that had entered the elders' tent.
"Erica," Anastasia interrupted their musings, softly, gently even, but not if you blinked and missed it like Rory, "know that evil is very different than dark magic." Erica pursed her lips.
"After the object was constructed, it had come time to test it. Stern's ancestor attempted to use it on the more powerful of the seers. And it 'worked', but," Anastasia clicked her tongue, "nature finds a way."
"Oh man," Rory grinned naively, snapping back into the grave conversation, "I dig Jurassic Land."
"So, what? The lucifractor's some kind of power parasite? What has that got to do with us?" Erica asked, tired of beating around the bush.
Anastasia continued, "Super empowering is a form of power copying. Meaning- "
"The seer was hit with the 'Worf Effect'." Rory finished easily. Erica and Anastasia snapped their eyes from each other's toward his, golden and mystified. "What?" Rory asked. They continued to stare. Vampire ninja rolled his eyes leisurely like the concept was the most obvious thing in the world, "it's a comic book trope, ladies. Hero is defeated – so you think – until they become something bigger and better than you ever thought possible!" He beamed. "You're saying the seer became a 'power parasite' themself." Rory concluded, largely unbothered by the condescending looks he was previously being given. Anastasia's open mouth could've caught a handful of flies before it snapped shut.
"That's… exactly correct, Rory."
Rory grinned proudly and folded his arms. He elbowed Erica suggestively. "What can I say? I'm a genius." He shrugged.
Erica went to smack his hand away before stopping abruptly at a thought. "So, you're saying Ethan absorbed the power from the lucifractor…" She murmured suddenly, coming to terms with Anastasia's anecdote.
"And used it to rob his ungrateful girlfriend of her immortality." Anastasia growled, slamming the book shut. "I could care less about that loss for Whitechapel's flock, but it's the principle of it that- "
Erica's eyes widened. "You mean Sarah's- "
"-human." Anastasia finished grimly, with distaste. "And you're next."