Warning: From this chapter on, I think it's best to mention that the story might get occasionally violent. If you can sit through this chapter okay, then you're fine.
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Blood Pie (by Sandy)
What you need:
1 tablespoon of olive oil
1 onion, finely chopped
Minced Pork
1 cup of water
2 vegetable stock cubes
1 cup of pork blood
3 tablespoon of plain flour
1 sheet of shortcrust pastry
1 sheet of rough puff pastry
1 egg
Salt
Pepper
How to Prepare:
1)Add olive oil to a heat pan and let the oil heat up.
2)Add meat with to pan and stir fry until brown. Add water if necessary.
3)Next add onion. Stir until browned.
4)Add water, stock cubes, blood. Salt and pepper to preference.
5)Bring to the boil, then simmer for 20 minutes.
6)Mix flour with water and add to meat.
7)Bring to the boil again and simmer for 5 minutes.
8) Leave to cool.
9)While waiting, line a round pie plate with the short crust pastry.
10)Add cooled meat mixture over the pastry sheet in the plate.
11)Top the mixture with puff pastry. Wet the edges to seal them, trim with cutter and glaze with a beaten egg.
12) Bake at 230C for 1 hour. Serve with a side of coleslaw and fries if desired.
~~~0~~~
1:03am: I'm at the hospital with Anna. Thanks for asking.
1:04am: And running off.
1:05am: Without explaining anything.
1:07am: In case you haven't realised, that was your cue to start explaining.
1:09am: Talk.
1:12am: Where are you?
1:13am: Or rather, where did you go?
1:16am: Let me rephrase that. WHY did you go?
1:24am: Hello?
1:24am: Jack Flipping Guardian?
1:25am: Are you reading any of this?
1:30am: The doctors say that other than the neck and bruises on her shoulder, there's no other signs of injury. She'd been drugged with some kind of drug, but it's not toxic.
1:30am: At least, the doctors say that it doesn't seem to be.
1:30am: They say she'll wake up once it wears off, so now I'm just waiting.
1:30am: And waiting.
1:31am: And waiting.
1:31am: I was scared. Really scared. I think a bit of me still is.
1:31am: These are the kind of horror stories my mum used tell me when she was still around.
1:32am: You know, the kind about why girls shouldn't walk down streets at night alone.
1:33am: You're a boy though. Maybe you never heard of those stories.
1:35am: I'm never going to let Anna walk down anything alone from now on.
1:50am: The doctors are trying to chase me out of the hospital.
1:51am: Clearly they are idiots.
1:51am: Someone needs to protect Anna. What if the attacker comes back?
2:01 am: They've given up on trying to move me. Took their time.
2:24am: Anna's just sleeping now. She's looks a bit roughed up and pale, but she's okay.
2:25am: I'm still a bit scared though. Why isn't she waking up if she's so okay?
2:26am: What did her attacker really do to her?
2:26am: Jack, what if the attacker wasn't really physical, but something else? What if she's been mentally tortured or something?
2:27am: What if she trapped in a world of nightmares?
2:27am: It can't be natural for a person just to be sleeping like that, right?
2:28am: You know, before she passed out, she was trying to tell me something.
2:29am: Do you think she knows the attacker?
2:29am: But if she does, and she survives…
2:30am: …would he (just putting 'he' for convenience) come back for her?
2:31am: He would totally come back. Oh no.
2:32am: Jack, I don't know where you right now, but if you could answer with anything – anything – it would make my day.
2:32am: Night.
2:33am: Well, very early morning.
2:37am: Jack?
2:37am: Jack?
2:40am: Jack?
2:46am: Jack?
3:00am: Jack?
3:20am: You had better have answered when I wake up.
She awoke at twelve o'clock from her extremely uncomfortable armchair to find that she had received ten unread messages, 3 missed calls and 2 new emails. 2 of the messages were from Kai, informing her that he had arrived with breakfast at nine to find her still asleep next to her sister's hospital bed. Thus, he had left the sandwiches on the table nearby, and would return at one to bring lunch for her, and for Anna too if she had awoken by then.
Elsa unfolded the paper bag as she cast glance at her forlorn, still unconscious sister. Anna's pallor had not improved much and she was so still that the blonde feared that she might even be dead. Fortunately, the subtle movements of the younger girl's chest under the blankets assuaged those fears, and Elsa returned to perusing the messages on her phone.
Another two were advertisements, which she promptly deleted, and the remaining messages and calls were all from surprisingly, Kristoff, who sounded quite frantic. The media people who had been at the scene yesterday must have already reported the attack on the town's paper. The boy had spammed her a bunch of questions about Anna, before ending them off with declaration of his impending arrival. It wasn't a question but a statement.
The 2 emails were from the hospital actually, only that it was not pertaining to her sister, but to the blood donation project. She noted bitterly that she had received no messages from Jack. Of course. Now in the cold, bleak morning, the whirlwind romance under the moonlight seemed just like a dream. Perhaps that was all it was to him, and if so, that was all it was to her too. As she had told him then, she was not the kind to be in need of stomach-flutters, nor the type to harbor infatuations. She was not the type to waste time stealing longing looks and doodling hearts on notebooks.
No, that would be her sister. The romantic. The dreamer. The gullible. The victim.
It was peculiar to see her sister lie so still. Anna had always been the more active of the two of them, always hopping, skipping, jumping about – and jumping straight into danger. Even when she slept, Anna was prone to twisting about, mumbling in her sleep and unconsciously chewing on her hair until their ends split. Here, she lay unmoving and pale, like a corpse at a wake.
Elsa shook the thought out of her head. Now was not the time to be tempting fate. She reached a hand out towards her sister, hoping that the warmth of her sister's palm would tell her otherwise. The glove that covered her own two hands however was too thick and she was not able to ease her thoughts. The blonde girl hesitated, glancing furtively around her. Anna's was a private ward, and there was no sign of anyone entering. So Elsa removed the glove of her right hand and reached towards her sister's limp left. Against her own cold hands, Anna's thankfully were still warm.
She gazed down at her sister, worrying sweeping over her as she noted the bandages over her neck and her bruised skin. In this vulnerable pose, Anna's fragility and weakness had never been more apparent. But then, there were no closed doors when it came to Anna. She wore her heart on her sleeve and her thoughts were always written all over her face. Anna kept no secrets.
No, the talent for that lay in the older sister.
At that very moment, Elsa heard steps coming from outside the ward and she quickly withdrew her hand from Anna. Hastily, she fitted her glove back where it belonged as she took a step away from her sister, hands immediately clasping themselves behind her back as she lifted her head to the doorway.
The ones who came marching in were not anyone familiar to her. One was big, round-bellied and jovial-looking, with a thick white-beard for good measure, and the other was small, stout, with small hands and feet, added with a gentle tuft of gold on the top of his head.
"Ah, good afternoon," the big jovial-man greeted her, his voice low enough as not to wake Anna but loud enough for her to hear his foreign accent. He marched towards her while his companion, who carrying something that looked like a box, detoured to drop at the table by Anna's bedside. Elsa's eyes flitted to the small man suspiciously, then to the bigger one who now proffered him his hand. "You are Elsa Arendelle, correct?"
Hostility was thick in her voice as she dismissed the handshake. "No press in here. I'd rather my sister not be subject any media sensationalism, thank you."
"Oh, ho, ho." The big man chuckled, slapping his side in surprisingly good-humour. "No, we are not the press people at all. Hahaha, that you think we are!" He let out another hearty chuckle, one that seemed to bounce off the walls of the small ward. Shaking his head, the big man told her, "No, we are here to visit your sister on the behalf of Jack."
"Jack?" She hated the way her heart leapt inside her when he mentioned the name. Elsa forcibly steeled herself, trying to remember that – yes, he was a sweet boy, and yes, he was a good kisser, but all that paled in comparison to the fact that he ran off when she needed him. "He sent you? Who are you, actually?"
"I am North," the big man gestured to himself, before waving to the small man, "and that is Sandy." Sandy nodded at her with a small smile, before turning his attention back to her sister. "We are Jack's family."
The rest of the Guardians. This big fellow must be Jack's foster father, or as close to a father figure he would get. The small guy was…well, she would put him down as the odd uncle type. This should make sense...except that it didn't.
"Why did Jack send you?" The questions shot straight out her mouth, and Elsa couldn't help the underlying crossness injected into each syllable. "Why didn't he come himself?"
"Ah, yes." North, whose accent she had yet to place, rubbed his hands together meaningfully. He glanced towards his golden-haired companion, who was removing the contents of the box, and it seemed to be a basket arrangement of flowers with chocolates surrounding it. If Anna were awake, she would love to dig into those – chocolates, that is, not the flowers. "Do you mind if we step outside a while to speak of this?"
Elsa frowned at him. She was starting to feel that Jack's habit of acting mysterious was picked up from his elders.
"What's wrong with talking in here?" She did also want to keep an eye on her sister, just in case there was a change.
The large man peered furtively at his companion once again, before whispering to her, "There are somethings that I might say that Sandy would not approve."
The blonde girl found this puzzling, but when North beckoned her to follow him out of the ward, she did so. Part of her chided her for leaving her sister alone with a stranger, but the small fellow called Sandy seemed like a gentle fellow, and if Jack was around to talk to her, she had a feeling he might be his favorite amongst the Guardians.
It occurred to her then that Jack had really successfully managed to avoid talking about his family, while constantly probing and prying into hers.
In the corridor outside the wards, the scene was mostly quiet. The nurses went about their duties without bothering them and it was good enough a place to converse. So, clearing his throat, the big man asked her, "Elsa – do you mind if I call you Elsa? I apologise if such an address is too familiar, but Jack speaks so fondly of you that I cannot help but as if we are already acquainted."
The girl nodded, a little dumbstruck by his remark. It was no doubt just an innocent, passing comment, but part of her was a little flattered to know that Jack had spoken well of her – even if it was to a family who supposedly disapproved of him dating.
"Good." North beamed warmly, before his expression turning more grave. "Now, before I begin, I need know – what exactly has Jack told you of his past?"
She blinked as she scraped through the fragment of information he had barely hinted at. "Well, I know that something …happened." That sounded extremely lame. "He had a sister," she added at the moment.
"Yes, he did." North sighed, stroking his beard thoughtfully, no doubt pondering on how to explain this all to her. "He loved her very much. Losing her one of the hardest things he had to ever go through."
"What happened?" Her curiosity egged her to inquire. For so long, she had been in the dark about Jack's story, and now she could finally get hold of it.
But to her disappointment - "It is honestly not my story to tell, and to be frank, there are details that Jack had never told me. However-" he must have noticed her expression, for he now hastened to supply "-I can tell you that ever since that day, that horrible day when all he had was taken from him, it had scarred him in ways that cannot be repaired. Therefore, it is vital that you should not hold his seeming 'cowardice'-" it was as if he had read her thoughts "-against him. The way he acted last night is the tragic result of what had happened before."
It didn't escape her that though deep in sincerity, Jack's guardian was being purposefully vague. Eager to know more, Elsa pressed him, "Jack had once hinted that he had-" the time when she had told him about her parents surfaced in her mind "-witnessed, or experience something traumatic. Is that what happened?"
North took a moment to consider her words, before saying, slowly, "Yes. It was undoubtedly traumatic. He sometimes gets nightmares about it."
An unbidden pang of pity struck her chest. She had never really considered it before, but what if Jack had witnessed his own family killed before his eyes, or something of that nature, the way that she had? Had Anna not been her own flesh and blood, would she have spun away and fled too? Well, no, but that was because she knew how to control herself. Jack was different from her. Perhaps that was how he coped with the trauma that North hinted at (however vaguely). Perhaps Jack ran because he didn't know what else to do.
"Do talk it out with him," the bearded man requested, full of such genuine concern that seemed rooted paternal instinct. With his white beard and his blue eyes, Elsa wondered North was not Jack's biological father after all.
But there was still a question that bothered her, and she supposed now was as good a time to bring up as any. "Mr. North?"
"It is just 'North', thank you."
"Well, North." Jack's family certainly had the oddest names. "Why isn't Jack allowed to date?"
She noted that he regarded her question with much amusement. "Ah, yes." He let out a light chortle. "Well, let's just say that half the family doesn't think him mature enough to handle a relationship, while the other half disagrees."
"And which half are you on, sir?" She couldn't bring herself to call him 'North'. He was at least forty years her senior. It felt disrespectful.
North let out another guffaw. With a twinkle in his eye, he patted her affectionately on the shoulder. "Talk to him."
After that chat, the odd pair from Jack's family left. She seated herself back on the hard chair that she slept in as she glanced at her phone. There were no new messages or calls, but that didn't mean that she couldn't initiate something herself.
She went to her contact list, hit the desired number before lifting the device towards her ear. The dial tone ended quite abruptly, informing her that the number she had called was unavailable and would she like to leave a message after the tone.
Part of her told her to hang up, but the other more hopeful half, that remembered how he had grinned when he had kissed her and how his cheeks flushed when she had kissed him back, began to speak, "Hey, Jack? It's Elsa. Call me back when you can, alright?"
~~~0~~~
Duck Blood Salad (by Tooth)
1 tablespoon of canola oil
1 shallot chopped
2 cups of Duck blood
1 scallion, finely sliced
1 handful roughly chopped cilantro
10 mint leaves
1 cup of Asian Pea shoots
1 tablespoon of fried shallots
1 tablespoon of roasted unsalted crushed peanuts
1 lime, cut in half
How to Prepare:
1)In a pot, bowl the pea shoots until soft. Drain and cool.
2)Add the oil to pan and fry shallots until fragrant. Remove from the heat to cool.
3)In a shallow bowl, mix together with 0.5cups duck blood and 0.5 cups of water.
4)Transfer this to a mixing bowl with the pea shoots.
5)Add the scallion, cilantro, mint to the mixture.
6)Pour remaining duck blood in bowl.
7)Scatter salad this bowl. Garnish fried shallots, peanuts and chili if desired.
8)Allow the duck blood to set for 15 minutes.
9) Squeeze the lime juice over the salad and serve.
~~~0~~~
"Well, did you find anything?"
"Not here." Sandy gestured for him to continue walking down the corridor of hospital, before leading them to an empty adjacent ward. Glancing around, the small man furtively began to gesture once again, as if fearing that an unseen spy might know sign language. "I managed to examine the girl's neck."
"And?" North pressed him.
"It is true as the reports have said. Other bruises and scarring, there are only two puncture marks on her. But-" he lifted his hand before the larger man could interrupt "-it's not by a vampire."
"Not by a vampire?" North repeated a bit louder than he should have, and hastily lowered his tone as he hissed, "What do you mean?"
"Don't get me wrong." Sandy grimaced. "The marks look very much those of vampire fangs. If it wasn't for the girl's symptoms, I would have been deceived." Seeing that the bigger man's expecting expression, he continued. "Her pulse is steady. Her skin is warm. Her breathing is stable."
"It could just be that she was not turned, no?" North suggested. "That she was chosen to be a meal." That word left a bitter taste on his tongue.
Sandy shook his head. "You and I know that victims of vampire attacks, even those not fully drained, rarely survive the blood loss. In fact, from the case notes – yes, I read them-" in response to North's critical mien "-she appears to have been drugged by something. She's merely asleep, not unconscious."
"Then, it seems that this is – what's the word – a mere ruse?" the big man murmured in astonishment. "But, why? Why such a detailed deception?"
Sandy shrugged, before adding, "I have to say though, the bite marks are very authentic. It's almost as if the assailant had possessed the teeth, but not the capacity to suck the blood."
"We must convene with Tooth and Bunny at once. Outside this place, of course." North eyed the empty bedroom around them distastefully, with their clean, unoccupied beds and neatly folded blankets. "The blood that has been bled in this room alone is starting to get me."
"Agreed." Sandy signed in return, mouth drawn in a thin line. "If Jack had come in here as he so desired, the sensations alone would have killed him."
~~~0~~~
He was going to die in this disgusting weather, inside this disgusting car. No offense, Bunny.
Okay, it was offensive. Bunny, seriously -what were he thinking when he picked this thing? It was boring, tacky and its air-conditioning was extremely subpar. The heater didn't work either, but that was one of the plus points in Jack's opinion.
And now, this pathetic vehicle was his death trap.
He ducked his head and cursed as arrow after arrow flew overhead, shattering glass around him. Reflexively, his hands flew over his face to protect himself, though the glass couldn't actually hurt him.
The arrows, however …
SPLAWWK! He just managed to avoid the projectile slamming next to his head. Even though he missed it, the collective presence of the Mountain Ash arrows was starting to affect him a way he hadn't felt for a long time. He didn't know how it worked, but it did work, and people knew they worked, and had used them over centuries to ward off all kind of unholy creatures. Apparently, they were very effective on vampires, to the point that they became the most common material that stakes were made from.
This fellow – man or woman, living or undead – had cut to the chase and had the stakes shrunken down and fired off like a machine gun. Clever invention – and a bit too clever by how close it was coming to actually killing him.
He dared a glance out of the window, and immediately ducked his head as his shadow-hidden figure fired two consecutive bolts at him. From what he had managed to see, the figure was moving towards him. Jack hastily peeked out into the glaring sunlight. With his attacker reloading his weapon – a modified crossbow, apparently – he got a better profile of him. The attacker was garbed in some kind of black armor that helped him blend in the shadows, with a mask of cloth drawn over his face, save the hateful eyes that wished death upon him.
And the crossbow was raised again.
Jack drew back, as he had before, but he was really cutting it close now. One of the arrows shot at him had struck him on the side of his head and he let out a cry as blood came trickling down his head – blood that vampires rarely shed, for that which was not living was supposedly impossible to kill. A myth that this hunter undoubtedly intended to disprove.
As he clutched his head and tried to focus, it was made abundantly clear that he could not stay here. Eventually one of the arrows would hit him, or the attacker would approach him and with him trapped in the car, imprisoned by the sun blaring rays. On second thought, maybe he could risk it - he could attempt an escape to flee the car and dart out into the sun. The sun would burn his flesh, but he could bear it, right?
Then he thought about his still swollen blisters on his chest and arms from that morning, and he knew that it wasn't going to work. In his weakness, the attacker would surely strike him down.
But if he stayed here, his attacker would win out long before the other Guardians returned.
Perhaps at a point of his undead equivalent of a life, he would have surrendered. He would have been grateful even, to know that someone had the ability to eliminate him and was willing to do so. This miserable existence was after all one that he had no wish to impose on any other, and to be able to rid himself of it is was not something he held onto too strongly to.
But there was people that he needed to live for. Things that he needed to make right.
He glanced at the arrow-ridden interior of the vehicle when an idea occurred to him. Bunny was going to be really mad, but it couldn't be really helped.
Jack twisted himself about in his constrained position between the polished seats as he faced the dusty mats that covered the foot rests.
And he punched a hole through the bottom of the car floor.
Arrows came crashing overhead, sprinkling more glass and even bits of metal. The white-haired boy ignored these in favor of peeling back the metal of the floor as far as his unnatural strength would allow. He could see an assortment of metal bars and wirings. He was no mechanic, so he had no idea what they were or what they did, so he clawed them out and threw them behind him, until he could get at least one foot onto the ground.
He craned his neck up one last time to check on his assailant's position, this being more careful not to let his foe hit him. He then took a breath as he placed two hands against the car door and one of his legs through the hole at the floor of the car, resting his foot on the road. He braced himself for the nausea that would soon sweep over him.
Then, with all his might, he kicked against the road and shoved against the car. Jack hurriedly drew his leg back into the car, curling himself up in a ball as his world was inverted over and over.
And just like that, the car toppled over, first on the side, then onto the roof, then over the other side, and it rolled across the road. The attacker had not expected to abrupt change of tactics however and did not manage to remove himself from incoming collision. And, my, what a collision it was when the sedan slammed against the trees, knocking against branches and cracked back the thin trunks, snapping them back. Down the car in rolled, down the slope in of the forest floor, only stopping when its roof smashed into a solid birch. The alarms inside the car went off, complete with the signaling lights flickering madly, but oddly enough, most of the vehicle stayed largely intact.
Kicking the car door off its hinges, Jack emerged from the wreck, coughing and very glad to note that he was protected under the shade of the leaves above now. As he pulled himself out of the smattered vehicle, he glanced around for any sign of his fallen foe. While he was certain that the vehicle had slammed into the shooter, there was no sign of the armed attacker anywhere.
And then he felt horrible searing pain strike him from behind, straight through his neck.
Jack gasped – or tried to, at least – when he peered down in horror to find himself staring at a blood soaked tip of the Ash bolt. More blood came spilling out of his lips as they parted and he gagged as he clawed the wooden weapon, only to find that he couldn't even do so.
He heard a step from behind him and swung around in time to see his assailant standing on top of the vehicle, balanced over the spot where the driver's seat used to be. His armor seemed to have been damaged, probably from its collision from the car and he ripped away a body pouch that had been strapped over his chest with one hand while the other raised the crossbow at the vampire.
Jack, though in agony, fortunately possessed the capacity to think and quickly he kicked the car, knocking it back and throwing the gunman off his aim. The assailant swore as he tripped back, the bolt flying off into the sky instead as he did. The white-haired lad began to move, untangling himself from the remainder of the wreck and darting in the forest. As he ran, he reached a hand towards the projectile in his neck. Clenching his teeth then clench his teeth he grabbed onto the bolt and pulled. An incoherent gurgle and more blood escaped his lips as he felt the shaft pass through the windpipe, then the tail, before it was finally out. When he threw the bloodied bolt onto the ground, he managed to catch the clicking of the crossbow before a rain of projectile came flying towards him. Jack quickly ducked himself behind a nearby tree, a hand going over his neck as he tried to stem the bleeding. Had he been a human, the blow would have been a mortal one, but as much as he hurt, he would not die from a puncture through the neck.
That was, provided he could escape his extremely skilled and exceptionally vicious hunter.
"You won't get far, Nosferatu," a harsh voice rang out in between the shots. That was a word he had not heard in a long time, and against his own will, Jack shuddered, sending a new flare of pain through his injured neck. "Even vampires run out of blood, and when you do, I will get to you." He could hear steps onto the leaf-strewn floor of the woods. His attacker was approaching. "By the time your unholy brethren, the world will be purged of your defiling presence."
Articulate guy, Jack thought as he ripped off the low hem of his shirt and fastened it around the hole in his neck. It would be the second one today he had ruined, but desperate times called for desperate measures. The bit of cloth didn't really stem the bleeding – how could it, with the marks that the ash wood had made on him? – but it was better than nothing.
As the boy crouched down between the large roots, he glanced around him for anything that could be useful as a weapon. There by his feet lay a long branch of a tree and with his crimson-stained hands, he took it up, breaking off the unnecessary branches and leaves. This gave him a long light but strong staff, with a peculiar twisting at the end that vaguely formed a hook. It was as if the fallen branch had been waiting for him to it to a weapon.
He then heard the firing stop for a second and heard his assailant swear. Perhaps his crossbow got jammed, or maybe he run out ammunition. Either way, now was the time.
Jack leapt out of his hiding place, leaping up as high as his feet could throw him towards his assailant, whose crossbow and head at that moment had been lowered. A yell escaped the vampire's blood-leaking lips as he raised the staff high. His extreme strength and unnatural speed gave his foe no time to escape, so the staff came crashing onto the hunter's helmet striking him to the ground, cracking through the armour at the same time. Jack hastily lifted the staff up once again for another bow, but the attacker managed to roll to side and whipped out a sword to block the incoming strike. The vampire let out a growl as he tore at the sword, intending to rip it from his opponent grip and fling it away. However, the second his palm touched the shining blade, a brutal sting rang up his arm, straight through his system, making his whole body shake. Jack let out a wheeze as he let go of his staff in favour of gripping against his throbbing hand.
"Silver," was the smug explanation his foe gave as he climbed back to his feet. "Meant more for werewolves, but apparently has effects on vampires too." The boy eyes widened as he watched his assailant unfasten the helmet from his head, simultaneously lowering the scarf over his face. As he threw the damaged headgear aside, Jack could finally see his red hair that stretch to the side of his face as sideburns, and the cruel twist of his lips. "I expected more of a fight, but I guess you haven't human for a while, have you? Those fine muscles of yours have been wasting."
And he immediately realised that he had seen this man just the night before, holding onto Anna's hand.
"You're Hans," he croaked, blood spurting from his throat as he tried to speak.
The cruel lips stretched themselves into a full grin. "And you're Jack."
"You-" he tightened his hold on his still trembling hand, feeling the blood from his neck dripping through his make-shift bandage and into his shirt "-she was – you were-" the truth dawned on him as fury flooded his chest "-Anna, she – you-"
"Yes," came the arrogant confirmation, for his assailant knew what he meant even from his jumbled speech. "There was no vampire."
That cockiness in his tone and the absolute nonchalance of his manner made his boiling insides leap straight into an explosion. "You!" Through his bleeding throat, he rasped sharply, "She cared about you! She-"
"-was foolish and gullible as young girls often are," Hans sneered as he advanced towards Jack. The boy stepped back, the twitching of his hand still not settling and the loss of blood was starting to make his vision go hazy. "Fortunately, she was not completely useless if she could lead you to me."
"B-but-" he stumbled backwards over a stone, or maybe it was a tree root. Still, Jack tried to crawl back, his hands searching the ground for something – anything that he could use against his foe "-but why? Seems pretty unnecessary."
Hans just shrugged. "Bait. I needed to get you isolated - Away from your accursed brethren, away from civilised human society. The road between the hospital and the centre of town seemed like a good place."
Incredulity was written all over the white-haired boy's face. "And you don't care that she might have died?"
"My job is to remove vampires, not save people." At that moment, Hans brought down his blade, slashing him across his knee. Jack let out a pained yelp, his movement slowed as the throbbing sensation in his hand now ran through his leg. His back knocked against another tree – a tree that he could probably uproot and swing against his foe if he had been in the prime of his health. But now, this tree was just a hindrance, and a hindrance that allowed him to be cornered.
It was then that he saw the tattoo on Hans' exposed wrist. The letters VH interlocked in a wreath of wild roses. Hans noted the direction of Jack's gaze and he grinned. "Yes. I suppose I should mention that we have suspected vampire presence here for a while. Thank you for proving us right."
VH, as in the initial of Van Helsing. As in the Van Helsing Brotherhood. As in the international society of fanatic assassins that dedicated themselves to the elimination of unnatural creatures including, but limited to, vampires.
"You see this?" He noted in his shifty vision Hans pulling put what appeared to be a chain from a pouch around his waist. When Jack squinted, he could see that it was appeared to be a chain of … teeth? "This is a little collection of mine. I like to keep mementos of the vampires I've slain." The redheaded man then returned the chain back to his pocket, shooting a mocking smile to his helpless victim. "I'll enjoy adding your fangs to collection, and those of your so-called 'family'."
The Guardians. They would know he was gone. If he was lucky, they would find his unmoving, bleeding body and they would know that Burgess was no longer safe for them. If he wasn't and the slayer decided to hide his body, hopefully they would suspect foul play and just leave – leave and go far, far away, where they could be safe from killers like the one hovering over him. But considering how easily Hans had defeated him, his wish was simply that – a wish.
"You're a monster," Jack spat at him through his uneven breaths, irony not lost on him.
Hans let out a cold chuckle before abruptly stabbing him in the abdomen, making him scream even with his near non-functional vocal cords. "'Tis judgement day upon thee, vile spawn of Hell," was his ruthless intonation as he twisted the blade, making the white-haired squirmed and writhe. "And now, I return to you from whence you came."
Even his agony, Jack could make out the slayer releasing his grip on the sword, reaching under his coat to remove the stake, its end already sharpened. The slayer did not come unprepared. The boy's breaths quickened the numbing paraesthesia running from his abdomen wound up to his chest, leaving him unable to even to shift himself slightly.
There was no escape – this was really the end.
Back he was mortal and died the first time, Jack never had the opportunity to really ruminate on the significance of it. After all, his thoughts then had been occupied with the injustice of his trial, not to mention the suffering he had been undergoing. However, though his pain now seemed a hundred times worse and his anger towards Hans was million times greater, he found his mind functioning quite well enough.
His memories of the last three hundred and six years ran through his mind, though more on his undead one than his mortal one. He thought of North, who had been the father figure he had never had. He thought of Bunny, who had been to him a brother, a rival, a support and a hindrance all at once. He thought of Tooth, who had showered him endlessly with maternal affection, even when laced with a hint of paranoia. He thought of Sandy, who somehow knew exactly what he needed at every moment and freely provided it in his quiet, patient way.
He thought of his peers at school who were centuries younger than him, from the sarcastic Hiccup, whose friendly nature defied the stereotype of his kin, to the naïve Anna, whose enthusiasm could not be matched by any other.
And he thought of Elsa, and how he would never have the chance to explain himself. To tell her truth.
As tip of the stake began its descent towards his unbeating heart, Jack shut his eyes.
He felt the ash wood plummet into his chest at the same time he heard a shriek of pain. His eyelids flew back open. While he was aware that a huge stake was now sitting in his chest, he did know in fact that one, the stake did not hit heart. And the reason why the slayer had misaimed his strike was that, two, Hans now spotted a long arrow through in his elbow.
The redhead gritted his teeth as he yanked the arrow out, cursing as he threw it on the ground. His head swerved around to see who had done it and that's when Jack heard the sound of galloping and a cry in language he didn't understand.
A coil of rope suddenly appeared, latching itself around Hans' neck. Just as the slayer began to tug against it, the rope went taut and he yelled in horror as he was jerked backwards, dragged off into the air. The rope on its own flew to a nearby tree where it hooked its free end around the branch, swirling and twirling until the redheaded man had been yanked clean off the ground. Jack's jaw fell open at the sight of his would-be assassin's limp body dangling from the tree by his neck.
The source of thundering gallops came into the wounded vampire's view in the form of a gigantic horse. Its snorted and shook its majestic black mane as its small rider jumped from it, pulling her hood down as she did to reveal her bronze curls. She darted a momentary glance towards Hans' swinging body, before hurrying over to the spot where Jack lay.
"Are you alright?" Merida asked him. "You look awful."
Jack tried to deadpan at her, but he didn't have the strength to. Even though the stake did not strike his heart, it was still made of Mountain Ash. The burning surges of pain that it sent through him combined with the numbing jitters provided by the silver sword was making his body shut down.
He felt her rip out the stake first, followed by the sword shortly after. Weakly, he winced in pain, but to be honest, the world was starting swim around him. He felt his eyelids falling shut.
He heard the young witch muttering under her breath as she tried to hoist him up – some incantation that perhaps was supposed to help. He couldn't feel the lower half of his body anymore and very soon after that, he slipped into oblivion, even as her foreign words whispered in his ear.
~~~0~~~
Devil's Curry (by Bunny)
What you need:
25 chilli peppers, seeds removed and soaked
8 shallots, coarsely chopped
3 stalks lemongrass, thinly sliced
1 teaspoon of mustard seeds
1 teaspoon of minced ginger
1 teaspoon ground turmeric
2 tablespoon distilled white vinegar
1/2 cup of chicken blood
1/4 cup cooking oil
2 tablespoons of water, as needed
3 tablespoon of vegetable oils
1 chicken (about 1.4kg), cut into pieces
4 potatoes, peeled and cut into pieces
Salt to taste
How to Prepare:
1)Add chilli peppers, shallots, lemongrass and turmeric into a food processor and puree until smooth. This will be the spice paste.
2)Heat the oil in a wok. Add mustard seeds and stir fry.
3)Add chilli paste. Add water and bring to a boil.
4)Add the chicken and chopped potato. Bring to boil then reduce to simmer.
5)Once the chicken is nearly cooked, pour in blood. Boil for another 10 minutes at least.
6)Add salt to taste. Stir in vinegar and remove from heat.
7)Pour into a bowl and garnish with coriander. Serve with rice or bread.
~~~0~~~
Kristoff had kept his word and came to visit. Well, if 'visit' entailed that he came with looking he wanted to kill someone, all while having a canoe paddle and a baseball bat tucked under his arm. He had handed the paddle to Elsa, who was puzzled, while himself he carried the bat as he made his way to the chair near the doorway. This was where he decided stationed himself for the next three hours, only removing himself from his spot for the occasional pee break and a glass of water. Every time someone stepped into Anna's ward, he would scowl suspiciously at the one who had entered and that person, be it a jittery nurse or a well-meaning visitor, would scuttle out of the room as quickly as they could. A tad rough the edges, but Elsa appreciated his dedication. How he acted reflected how she felt anyway.
With Anna under his supervision, the blonde girl was able to tear herself away from her sister's side. She had been here the whole day and under Kai's suggestion, she decided to take a bath at the patient's bathroom just a few doors from her sister's ward. She did so with much reluctance, but her guardian insisted, saying that it would be good to help her relax.
Relax. That word seemed so foreign to her. She hadn't been relaxed since the day she watched her parents' die. Now, she had the image of Anna lying in pool of blood ingrained in her mind, along with her other gory memories.
Once all the soap was rinsed out of her hair, Elsa turned the knob of the shower, cutting off the water. She didn't immediately step out of the shower cubicle, however. Instead, she found herself leaning her forehead against the water-dripping wall, exhaling out.
She hated this whole thing. Sure, Anna was on a road to recovery and she was in no immediate danger, but the whole incident still weighed too heavily on her mind. She still had no idea where Anna's attacker was, why the attacker had targeted her at all, and whether the attacker would return. Even though she had no doubt Kristoff would put up a fight against any threat that her comatose sister might face now, the boy was only a boy and the attacker could very well overwhelm him. She had tried to convince the sheriff to leave someone to guard her sister, but he was convinced that she was in no danger any longer and the manpower was better spent looking for the criminal. While she understood the logic, it gave her no peace of mind.
After she had dried herself off, she reached for the bag of clothes that Kai had brought her. As she dressed herself, her eyes caught on the phone that she had left in her bag. She had gotten a barrage of message from various acquaintance who inquired about her sister and after a while, she grew tired of answering them. All these people had no real stake in their questions – they had no real reason to be asking, because they didn't really know Anna, nor did they really know her. The one person that she had been still waiting for a text from had still not sent anything. She was starting to wonder if she had been wrong to listen to that North fellow, as kindly a gentleman he had been.
All the same, she picked up the phone and scrolled through the messages, hoping against herself.
And that was when a thought rang in her mind, "Why did you care?"
Elsa paused, a little surprised by how suddenly that came to her.
"You don't need him. You don't need anyone."
Well, that was true. She had never needed anyone. She had always been independent, efficient and disciplined. Why did she care so much about including in her life a person who was clearly not making that great an effort to be included?
No, that wasn't true. Jack hadn't had an easy past himself. He had his reasons and she should give him the chance to explain himself. She clearly meant a great deal to him if he had pursued her with persistence, even against his family's wishes. In all the time they had spent together, there had been no signs of insincerity. He wasn't fully honest with her, but there was no doubt that he held her in regard. In fact, from his flustered delight yesterday, she wouldn't be surprised himself that he thought himself in love with her.
"But what do you know of true love?"
That was the problem, wasn't it? She was young. He was young. They didn't even know what - whatever it was - between them. After she had questioned him, he had not answered. At the point of time, they had been distracted by Anna, but it didn't change the fact that he had hesitated. Part of her wish that he had would have grabbed her hand and to smile that mischievous yet innocent smile of his while promising that yes, he was in this for the long haul. But another part of her knew that even if he had done so, it would be but a burst of impulse. He could mean it at the time, but as time wore on, he might grow disinterested and jaded. Or perhaps circumstances might pull them apart. After all, once senior year was over, they might very well part ways and never see each other again.
If that's all it was, then she was cut them off. No questions asked. She had seen Anna in her moods – her heartbreaks and her sobbing episodes. She had no interest in having her heartbroken.
"You're the very epitome of practicality as always, my dear Elsa." She could hear a sardonic chuckle at the back of her head, an unheard sound that sent a shiver straight down her spine. "I knew there was a reason I liked you."
Her eyes widened as she whipped herself around, eyes darting frantically around as she tried to find the source of the voice. There was something horrible familiar about it – horribly, horribly familiar. But in the bathing cubicle it was clear that she was alone, so Elsa shrugged it off.
Once she had all her clothes on, she unlocked the door of her cubicle and headed out to the sink. Rubbing her hair against her towel, she noted in consternation that the entire mirror had frosted itself over. Sighing, she draped the towel over her shoulder before stretching out one of her hands to wipe the condensation. While she brushed the water droplets off, a bizarre suddenly greeted her. Frowning and wondering if she had mistaken, she hurried wiped off the rest of the condensation with hurried strokes. It did not however change the image in the mirror.
When she looked at herself in the mirror, her body appeared only ethereal - no – glowy – no – bright – no – translucent.
She blinked, rubbing her eyes as she squinted the peculiar image. Scooping the towel off her shoulders and noting the curious transparency did not affect it, she glanced down at her hands and the rest of her body. It looked perfectly fine. But when she looked in the mirror once again, the strange translucent pallor that had settled over her had not disappeared.
Elsa eyed the mirror with suspicion, reaching over and tapping it sharply, thinking that it perhaps some kind of screen instead of an ordinary mirror. She read articles about television screen that doubled as mirrors when switch off, so if this mirror was like one of those, that might explain the weird image that she was looking at. However, the rapping of her knuckles against the glass revealed that it was just an ordinary cheap mirror. Burgess National Hospital was a fairly old hospital, and she was doubtful that it would have installed something so expensive and high-tech in a bathroom. She withdrew her hand from the mirror and continued to frown.
"There's nothing wrong with the mirror, Elsa."
She jumped, swinging once again, heard thumping wildly in her chest. She hastily walked down the toilet, pushing back the doors of the empty cubicles, looking for a voice recorder, or a phone, or some kind of device that some had clearly installed here to play a prank on her.
She heard that nasty chuckle again, before the voice said, "This is no prank, my dear Elsa. If you look back at your memories, you'd realise that."
This was getting ridiculous. She stomped past cubicle over cubicle, vowing to ensure that the moron who made fun of her like that was thoroughly berated.
But there was nothing. No hidden devices, no hiding prankster. She was completely alone.
"You are never alone, Elsa."
Exasperated, she threw her hands up in the air and growled, "Who is that? And where are you hiding?"
"Oh, my dear child. Don't you remember?"
"Remember?" she scoffed out loud, refusing to think back her answer, no matter how much she felt as if the voice was only speaking in her min-
No.
No. This couldn't be happening to her again. Not again.
When she had told Jack about that she had to see psychiatrist after her parents' death, she hadn't gone into the details of why she had to see a psychiatrist and not an ordinary counsellor. It was the reason why Anna had been kept away from her during that period of time. In fact, when Elsa had told Jack that she went 'a bit mad', she had actually meant that she went really, really mad - mad enough to start hearing voices.
Actually, not voices. Just, well, 'voice'. Because there was only one voice that haunted her, taunted her, threatened her, coaxed her.
The voice belonging to the shadow that had slaughtered her parents.
"Oh, good, good," she heard the voice speak with glee. "I was afraid I'd have to introduce myself all over again."
"Get out of my head," the blonde girl hissed, clutching against her head. As she did, her eyes fell onto her left wrist – a wrist that she often hid with her gloves. She hated looking at the scars that had been left there from the so-called accident. They brought her memories that she had rather not face.
That very spot suddenly started to throb, burning and stinging. Elsa let out a cry of pain and surprise as she grabbed onto her left wrist with her right hand. It did little to assuage the growing pain. Instead, burning sensation started spreading down to her elbow then up her arm, before hitting her chest like a burning fire. Curses that her refined tongue had never uttered came tumbling out of her mouth as she felt her body overcome with an horrific agony that she hadn't felt since the first time she awoke to learn of her parents' demise.
"Elsa? I heard you from the room," she could hear someone outside the toilet door. It sounded like a little gruff and very much concerned, but too young to be Kai. "You okay in there?"
Anyhow, she couldn't answer, because she was busy trying not to collapse to the floor in puddle as her legs began to shake. Catching on the side of the sink for balance, she glanced at the mirror one last time.
This time, she couldn't see her reflection at all.
A scream of horror escaped her throat as she stepped back sharply from the sink, and at that moment her knees buckled. She slumped against the sink, breathing rapidly and staring at her wrist. Suddenly, the lights of the bathroom began to flicker, slowly at first, then rapidly. The world seemed to be dissolving into a puddle of fluttering colours and she could feel a shift in the atmosphere. An overwhelming darkness came flooding over her, surrounding her thoughts and her vision. She clawed against it, tore against it, but it was much stronger than she was, and behind it all was a menacing presence.
And she heard him loud and clear. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Get out!" she screamed.
"We should get reacquainted."
"GET OUT!" She struggled, twisting and squirming, but the shadows would not move. Instead, the blackness seemed to intensify.
"You can't escape me," the mocking tone turned abruptly hostile, even though it seemed quieter. "You never could."
"Leave me alone!"
The darkness would not budge. "I'll never let you be alone."
"No." She shook her head violently. "No. Get out. Get out!"
"We'll be together soon, my dear."
"No, no, no – let me go!" She could ever feel hands encircling her wrist. She tore against them.
"Forever."
"No, no, no!"
"And ever."
"LET ME GO!"
~~~0~~~
She was sobbing, hysterical mess when the nurses led her out of the female bathroom. From what he had heard, she had fought against them – violently, almost – but eventually she grew tired and allowed herself to be led away. As he watched the nurses all but drag the blonde girl down the hallway, Kristoff couldn't help but feel extremely disturbed.
"I've never seen her like this," the young man told the older one by his side. Well, Kristoff admitted that he didn't know the elder Arendelle girl that well. The only reason he had joined the whole Social Awareness society was because Anna had pretty much blackmailed him to and though he would never admit it, there was very little he would not do for the brunette girl.
But Anna's sister was the President of their little society, so Kristoff had interacted with her enough to see her under duress. Even at her worse, Elsa was always collected, always objective. She always had a clear idea of what she wanted to do and how she wanted to do it. She was not the kind to have flares of temper or flights of fancy. That was more up Anna's alley.
Yet now it was Anna who quietly sleeping in her bed and Elsa bawling her eyes out.
The portly older man who Kristoff knew to the guardian to the two girl sighed, before saying quietly, "She hadn't been that way since Mr. and Mrs. Arendelle passed away."
"Hmm." The boy watched as the nurses escorting Elsa made a turn to one of the rooms, where they would probably have her settled down to rest.
"Excuse me?" one of the nurses who had just emerged from the bathroom stopped before them. "You both are with her, right? She left these in the bathroom." The nurse presented to them a bag, a phone and a pair of gloves.
"Oh, yes. Those are Elsa's," the elderly guardian confirmed as he took the items. He gave them a cursory glance before turning to the boy. "Do you mind bringing these back to Anna's room? I should get these-" he nodded to the gloves "-back to Elsa. It might help her calm down."
"Sure." Kristoff took the duffel bag and the phone from him, a little puzzled as to how a pair of gloves might change anything. But from all he had seen of the girl, Elsa was always wearing gloves. Maybe it might do some good.
As the portly man turned on his heel towards the room that the blonde girl had disappeared into, Kristoff glanced down at the phone in his hand. It was then when he noticed that phone was actually damaged. Part of him speculated that the girl must have dropped it in the bathroom, but the cracks on the screen were only along the two long borders of the phone, with small dents on each side. It seemed like…well, that the phone had been crushed in Elsa's hand.
Kristoff shook his head. That was ridiculous. Elsa couldn't possibly so strong as to crack her phone between her bare hands. The hands of the Arendelle girls were absurdly feminine in how slender and thin they were. Even Anna, who he knew to be pretty strong, wouldn't be able to manage such a feat.
So Kristoff swung himself around, duffel bag swung over his shoulder, heading back to Anna's ward. He couldn't help the uneasiness that had seeped into his mind now and he hurried his steps. He would feel much better with his trusty bat back in his hands.
Even when he settled himself back next to the sleeping girl, the gnawing sensation did not leave him. He wondered where the white-haired last member of their small student society was. Jack and Elsa were supposed to be pretty tight? Maybe the other boy would be able better figure out the curious events surrounding the Arendelle sisters.
~~~0~~~
Ingredients:
Beef, cubed
2 tablespoon of flour
2 tablespoon of olive oil
3 tablespoon of smoke paprika
2 big onions, sliced
2 medium potatoes, peeled and cubed
2 medium fresh tomatoes, sliced
1 cup of beef or pork blood
Salt and pepper to taste
2 bay leaves
How to Prepare:
1)Roll cubed beef in flour.
2)Heat olive oil in a pan.
3)Add floured beef cubes and cook on all sides. Remove once cooked.
4)Repeats steps 1 to 3 for sliced onions.
5)Transfer to larger pan.
6)Add potatoes, tomatoes, paprika, bay leaf, salt and pepper into pan.
7)Add blood and water to just cover mixture.
8)Cover mixture with a lid and stew for 30 minutes on a slow fire. Stop to stir.
9) Reduce heat and simmer until thickened. Serve with hot noodle or mashed potatoes. Add sour cream if desired.
~~~0~~~
It was late at night when Mara Dursley was driving back on back home.
What do you need to know about Mara Dursley? Well, for one, she wasn't all that important for our story. In fact, she's so unimportant that I can tell you quite frankly that she wasn't going to be alive for much longer now.
Besides that, she was also a middle-aged woman who lived Burgess. She had two teenaged sons and a husband waiting for her to come home from Corona, a bigger town that was a two-hour drive from Burgess and also the location of her workplace. That day, her work had ended incredibly late, so by the time she started on the way back home, the sun had already started to set. When she was halfway through the journey, night had already fallen.
The road back to Burgess was largely unlit, being a knot of twists and turns through the dense forestry and irregular hills. Mara had driven this road for the last ten years of her life though, so she didn't flinch when her car hit the bumps or when her body swung with the sharp swerves. She however did not expect to see a hunched thin figure plodding on ahead of her, along the highway.
She slowed the car down such that the vehicle stopped right next to the figure walking by the roadside. Under the headlights, she could make out the figure more clearly. It was an old man, with a cane under his arm. What he was doing walking along the highway at night, Mara didn't know, but she felt that it wasn't right to let him continue. She had a compassionate soul.
She was also not going to be alive for very much longer.
Rolling down the side window, she called to the old man, who had stopped when he had seen do the same, "Hello, there."
The old man tipped his hat at, answering rather formally, "Good evening." There was a tint of an accent in his words – British, perhaps?
"Burgess is still several miles off. It'd be hours if you tried to make it by foot," Mara told him. "Would you like a ride?"
He dipped his head towards her, smiling a wrinkly smile at her. "You are too kind, Miss."
"Just Mara would do," the woman said, stretching from her seat to open the door. "C'mon, I insist."
Nodding at her with humble gratefulness, the old man entered the car, mumbling 'thank you's' to her. Mara just waved them off with a laugh and when he had closed the door, she started up the engine and had them speeding back down the dark, empty road.
"I never thought I'd see people walking down here at night," the woman remarked to her guest. She was a very talkative woman and if she didn't have someone to talk to, she would probably talk to herself. So here, with her unexpected guest, she had no cause for silence. "What were you doing down there?"
The old man cleared his throat, before answering in a thin, whispery croak, "I needed to get to Burgess urgently."
"Ah," Mara said politely. She wondered if she should press him to reveal the reason for his urgency, but she supposed that it might be a little rude to those so. Still, her curiosity got the better of her. "Why, might I ask?"
The old man turned his head sharply at her with a fierceness that she hadn't expected from a frail old fellow like him.
Fearful that she might have offended him, the woman added quickly, "I mean, it just sounds like you're not from around here, so I figured you were a tourist or something." British. Yes. The accent sounded rather British. Then again, all that Mara Dursley knew of British accents came from watching BBC news and Doctor Who.
The tension on the old man's expression faded and he returned to gazing out wearily of windshield. "I have come to visit an old acquaintance of mine."
"Oh, that's nice. A friend, perhaps? A special someone?" She wagged her brow teasingly.
An odd expression seemed to cross the frail old fellow's face, one that seemed … sardonically amused? "You could say that, I suppose."
"Well, I hope you enjoy yourself down here," Mara said as they swept past the large sign that greeted, 'Welcome to Burgess'. "It's not fancy or sophisticated like those big cities, but it's still a nice place, don't you think?"
"Yes, I suppose it is," the old man murmured, his voice seeming to drop several decibels. "It has a rather unique aura about it, doesn't it?"
"Aura?" The woman stepped on the pedal, let out a small chuckle. "What do you mean?"
"A darkness. A shadow. It's as if its very soil of this land is tainted."
The cheer that Mara had immediately faded away and glanced at him with a raised brow. "What do you mean?"
The old man turned slowly towards her and for the first time, she noticed that his eyes were almost entirely black, with a flicker of gold in them. "Do you believe in ghosts, man?"
She felt goosebumps running up her arms, even as she answered confidently, "Can't say that I do."
"Hmm. A pity." His unsettling eyes did not leave her. "Because that's all this town would have left once I'm done here."
Mara had no chance to act before the old man suddenly grabbed on her throat with a strength that couldn't be natural and in her horrified shock, the car swerved off the road and rammed itself into a tree.
I wish I could tell you that then was when Mara Dursley, wife to her devoted husband and mother to two teenaged sons, died. But the crash itself only gave terrible abrasion on her head and long cut up her chest when a glass shard stabbed her in stomach. No, her death was only really sealed when she started to bleed. The companion next to her, who hadn't sustained a single injury from the incident, merely grinned as the decadent scent flooded his nostrils and inhibitions of his instincts were lifted.
On the deserted road at this time of the night, there was no one to hear the screams.
Eventually, a figure emerged from the forest. But it was not the figure of an injured middle-aged woman, nor was it of a frail old man. Instead, a tall, slender man, who appeared to be in his mid-thirties at most, was the one who stepped back onto the gravel road. He did his best to straighten out his unkempt clothes and made a mental note to obtain attire more appropriate for someone of his stature. With his bony, claw-like hands, he removed his hat in favour of slicking his dark black hair back. In his other hand, he tightened his hold on his 'walking cane', feeling along it for the switch. He found it and pressed on it, making the thin rod extend itself and sprout a pair of hooked blades.
Throwing his scythe over his shoulder, he continued his journey to Burgess at relaxed pace, only pausing once to wipe the blood from his lip.
~~~0~~~
I should emphasise if I haven't that many of these recipes probably won't really work if you tried them out. They are based on legit recipes I found online, but I have altered them to a point that they might just not work anymore. Anyway, out of all the recipes' here, the only one that originally has blood in it is the Duck Blood Salad. The rest are blood free.
In pop culture these days, silver is usually associated with being a weakness for werewolves, not vampires. But in the original Dracula novel, a silver bullet can be fired through a vampire's coffin to keep it from waking anymore.
And you did not misread that. Yes, Merida used magic to lynch Hans. This story is getting increasing violent. Also in this story, vampires can bleed.
If you've read my previous stories, you know that I used to hate writing OCs, but what I hate even more than writing OCs is wasted cameos. So I'd rather create a bunch of OCs to kill off then bring in a Disney/Dreamworks character that goes to waste.
My exams are over for now, so hopefully that means more updates. That is…provided I didn't fail any of the tests…
Well, if you enjoyed reading it, a review would be nice. But who am I kidding? I love writing this as much you enjoy reading it. Even if it makes my hands ache and my back hurt…
Time to reevaluate my life choices….