It was eleven past forty at night and he had long closed up for work. The only reason he was still in the warehouse was because he had started watching a serial drama. It was about some heir to a major cosmetics company falling in love with a sassy salesgirl – not exactly intellectually stimulating, but brainlessly funny enough to be entertaining.
He was on episode thirty-four, streaming it on his com, when he heard the backdoor crashing open. He jumped, before reaching for the gun that he kept under strapped the table.
The intruder was apparently familiar with the place, because he had come racing down the corridor, huffing and puffing. Just as Hiro was about to undo the safety, he realised who the bloodied individual with tattered armour was. "Mr. Westergaard! What are you-"
"I need a saw, made of silver if you can manage it," the man cut in briefly. His lips were drawn into a grimace, and one of his hands was wrapped in a crimson-soaked cloth. "Also – get me a Mountain Ash torch – a lit one."
Hiro gawked at him.
"Hurry!"
Only then the boy take off, dashing to the storage rooms to find the items that he had been told of. A mountain ash stick was easy to locate, but he didn't have a saw made of silver. So he returned to the lab with a silver scimitar instead. Hans was already seated at one table, cradling that his blood-soaked arm whilst cursing and swearing. When he saw the scimitar, he snatched it from Hiro's hand without so much of a thank-you, before dropping the bloodied cloth. It was only then that the boy could see the gnarled hand, and he gasped.
Most of it was gone, like it had been ripped off via jaws of a shark. There was a part of that seemed to growing back, however. Hiro couldn't help but watch in fascination as bits of flesh and muscles trying to wrap themselves around each other, and some ligaments slowly spouting out of nowhere. He had known that his client possessed extraordinary healing abilities, but he had never witnessed it firsthand– no pun intended.
"Stand back," the hunter ordered him, which he did. Hans then raised the scimitar up high while resting his self-repairing arm on the bare table. Clenching his teeth together, the redhead brought down the blade suddenly and let out a horrible screech as he severed the his wrist from his arm.
Hiro spun around at once, feeling so sick in the stomach that he slapped a hand over his mouth, just in case. Behind him, he could hear the assassin's heaving breaths and the repulsive sound of sawing through bone.
"Give me the torch," he heard Hans hiss at him after the sawing sound stopped. "Quick! Before this thing regrows!"
Hiro handed to him the burning pole of Mountain Ash, which he had set aflame with a wet cloth dipped in oil and a lighter. Hans allowed the flame burn through the cloth a little more, before stabbing the torch against his bleeding stub. "Gah!" he spat out. "Grrrrraaaaaaggggh!"
The young boy stepped away, covering his nose as the smell of charred flesh entered the air. Hans didn't stop there however, but persisted in holding the torch towards his dismembered arm until all the flesh of the stub was charcoal black, wheezing and cussing as he did. Only a minute later did he give the torch back to Hiro. "Take it." He nodded to the chunk of flesh that he had just chopped off. "Dispose of that too."
Hiro took the torch and retrieved the slab of gooey dripping flesh, which he carried with a latex glove. The torch he doused in a bucket of waste water in the garage, but the hunk of flesh he didn't dispose. Instead, he took to his kitchen in the back. Placing the wet, red mess mix of sinew, muscle and bone in a kitchen bowl, he covered it with cling wrap before placing it on the top level of the fridge. He may never have a chance to obtain a sample from his self-healing client, so he sure wasn't going to 'dispose of it' as Hans would have wanted.
When the boy returned to the lab, Hans was still sitting at the same spot as before, but where the charred stub had been now was a new hand. Hiro gazed in disbelief as the redhead made fist with his fresh fingers, then spreading open them once again, twisting his wrist about.
"How did it regrow so fast?" the young teen couldn't help blurting out in his awe.
Fortunately, his client wasn't too offended or impatient, now that his agony had ended. "Just need to cut out the vampire infection."
Hiro gaped. "Vampire?"
"Bit me on the arm." Hans noted the boy's worried expression. "Don't worry. Vampires aren't like werewolves. One little bite on the arm isn't enough to turn me." He twisted his wrist about, admiring his newly formed appendage. "Not that I'd ever let myself get turned, of course."
"Of course," Hiro echoed, still staring at the hand as Han slid a glove over it.
"While we're at it, I'll be needing new armour. The one that you gave me was-" the redhead pursed his lips briefly "-compromised."
The lad with spiky hair blinked. "Compromised? But I made exact to your specifications! How was it-"
"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" The sudden bellow had Hiro staggering back, almost tripping over a stray toolbox. The man's handsome face was contorted with such powerful rage that the boy genuinely feared that his flesh might be seared by it. It was only a good minute later that the wrath began to fade, and Hans ran his re-grown hand down his face, sighing deeply. "I'm sorry, kid. Didn't mean to scare you like that."
The young teen didn't move from his spot, nor did he lift his hand from the dagger that he had strapped behind him.
"Monster-hunting's a tough business," Hans went on, shaking his head, scrutinising the bloodied scimitar. He lifted the blade up to the boy, granting him a small smile, so disarming and kind that it was almost chilling. "Don't ever get into it."
Hiro nodded mutely as he accepted the proffered weapon. He spun around, intending to clean the blade off before the tarnishing set in. Just as he was about to however, the assassin spoke, "Hey, Hiro."
The boy questioned paused, glancing back at him.
"A deal's still a deal." The sincerity in his voice was unmistakable. "The first vampire I slay will be yours – for your studies." His head turned towards the wooden box that sat in the middle lab, right under the sky light. "We'll bring him back."
Hiro didn't answer, merely steering himself back to his old course of action. Over the last few months after he had gained his enigmatic client, the direction of his work had changed vastly. Mechanics and robotics had been swapped for ancient weaponry, sometimes a fusion of the two. Titanium and carbon fibre were exchanged for mountain ash and silver – a tonne of silver. He had never been so obsessed with his 'project' as he was right now, especially with Hans urging him on. Why his cynical self listened to elder fellow, he wasn't sure, but there was something about the redheaded warrior that was almost irresistibly charismatic. A part of sort of believed that if Hans persuaded the Sun to rise from the North instead, the giant bob of gas would do so accordingly.
"Hey, Hiro?"
He was stopped this time at the door way, waiting to hear whatever Hans had for him.
The man removed a laptop from his sack and placed on table. "Um, I'm not very good with computers, so I was wondering if you could help me with this?"
"Okay." Because honestly, he didn't know how else to reply.
The boy then went to the cleaning room and dumped the scimitar in vinegar mix, where other sharp silver tools of his creation lay in wait for a good washing. He'd have to bother with those later though, since Hans clearly wanted his help with the laptop immediately. As he made his way back to lab once more, however, he took the route through the kitchen, and that made him stop at the fridge.
Glancing towards the hallway that led to the lab, he decided to check on the chunk of flesh – the self-healing flesh – that Hans had asked him to discard. Maybe after the assassin had departed, he could study the sample, run some tests, see if he could get something out of it in case the promised vampire sample didn't work, or possibly never come.
Hiro removed the bowl from the fridge, debating with himself as with whether he should put it in the freezer instead. He didn't know how sample like these could be kept under such conditions. When he gazed down at the bowl, however, he noticed that something had changed in his sample. Ripping off the cling wrap, he stared down at the murky yellowish-brownish liquid that had gathered at the moment of the bowl. The chunk of flesh was nowhere in sight.
He dipped a finger into the liquid, and it clunk to his finger, but it wasn't all that sticky. Sniffing cautiously, it smelled like...paint? What the heck - but, why?
"Hey, Hiro?" he could hear Hans calling from the lab. "A little help would be great about now."
The boy set the bowl back in the fridge, not sure what to make of his peculiar finding. But this he kept to himself as darted back to the lab, shouting, "Coming!"
~~~0~~~
Blood Hummus (by Tooth)
What you Need:
2 Cups of Cooked Chickpeas
1 Roasted Red Bellpepper
2 Tablespoons of Tahini
0.5 teaspoon of Cumin powder
1 pinch of cayenne pepper
0.5 cup of Coriander
0.5 cup of Chicken Blood
Salt & Pepper to Taste
How to Prepare:
1) Add Chickpeas, tahini, cumin powder, bell pepper and coriander into the blender until fine crumbs
2) Pour in blood slowly while mixed is mixing.
3) Mix in salt and pepper to taste.
4) Serve garnished with blood, cayenne pepper and pita bread.
~~~0~~~
She heard a little laugh coming from the foot of her bed.
Elsa's eyes popped open. Cautiously, she sat herself up. In the corner of her eye, she could see Anna's slumbering body still in her own bed, so unless this little girlish laugh belonged to Kai, she shouldn't be hearing anything.
But hear the laugh again, she did, and when she raised her eyes back to the foot of her bed, she saw her own azure eyes staring back at her from a younger body.
The girl in the bed rubbed her eyes, and her youthful double had vanished, but the laughter echoed as the door creaked open. Glancing briefly at her sleeping sister, Elsa climbed off the bed. She approached the door warily, pulling it further back. She saw a small little shadow disappearing down the stairs, giggle echoing back to her. She wrapped her gown close to her and followed quickly.
At the foot of the stairs, Elsa noticed rattling from the front door and was just in time to see the blonde braid disappearing around it. She raced forward and flung the door open, only to find that it was pouring wet outside.
Lifting a hand over her eyes, Elsa's searched rainy backdrop for any sign of the child – the one that looked so much like her. It took a while for her to spot a lithe figure standing at the edge of the woods. Only this time, the child was a little older, now looking a nine instead of six. The girl stared at her unblinkingly, not caring that her bright blue dress and her neatly braided hair was getting soaked in the rain. She turned about about and dashed into the woods.
"Wait!" Her common sense would have demanded her grab an umbrella first, or at least put on some shoes, but she didn't. She dashed out onto the road, in fervent pursuit of that child – that little version herself. Inside her churned an urgency that she couldn't explain. All that she knew was that she needed to reach that child.
The forest was thick and dark, and with the rain pouring overhead, she was going in completely blind. She coughed as some water splattered in her mouth, and she spun about frantically, seeking any sign of movement. Though it was nearly impossible to see anything, she did catch sight of a white sheet darting through the trees. So she twisted herself in that direction and took off as fast as she could.
As she chased the giggling shade, she couldn't help but notice that the darkness around her swooping and swirling past the trees, as if it wasn't merely the absence of light but a living force that loomed above her. Elsa swept her yellow locks back, ignoring her chittering teeth and her thumping heart. Instead, she clenched her fist tight, willing herself through the dastardly storm and the winding forest.
Eventually, her route took her down into a road. At first, she was confused. The young girl – the mirror image of her younger self - was nowhere in sight. As Elsa turned her head to her left however, she was greeted by a sight that was both familiar and new.
The blinking headlights of an overturned car danced upon the white fabric of her nightgown. Her bare feet had to thread carefully upon the glass-littered roads, for even the puddles could not sull their pointed edges. She could hear something coming through one of the broken windows, so she warily lowered herself to her knees, allowing herself to gaze through the shattered glass.
There, hanging upside down, was her younger self, head bruised and lip scarred the glass, body still strapped to the seat by the seatbelt.
But her younger self wasn't alone - oh, no. Her parents were there too; her father strapped to the driving seat, body limp and his head lopped forward in an unnatural angle. And her mother was strapped next to him, knocked unconscious and bleeding.
From her neck.
Elsa's eyes suddenly darted to the shadow that seemed to have curled itself under her mother's body. She could see the shape of a claw – or was that a thin bony hand? – that had latched itself to the back of her mother's neck and she could make out a head in the darkness. And she heard another sound that was not her mother's slowing breaths, nor her younger's self's tight huffing.
It was the sound of slurping. Much like the way one would slurp a drink, or soup.
Or blood.
And then the slurping stopped. And she watched as the head, which had been obscured from her thus far, swing itself suddenly towards her.
At that moment, she heard a soft gasp, for her thirteen-year-old self had awoken, and at that moment, Elsa saw once more what she had seen all those years ago. The only difference was that now she could identify that the sight.
A grin in the dark, and fangs dripping crimson next to her mother's body.
Pitch Black.
She gasped, throwing herself back and scrambling away from the overturned car, ignoring how the shards of glass pierced into her palms.
Her palms.
Her palms were uncovered.
Her hands were uncovered from elbow to fingertips. She wrung them together in horror.
"So now you know, and you must know how long I've waited."
She whipped around, and found standing before her the 'mysterious stranger' at his full height. He was dressed in a dark robe that she had never seen before, and it enveloped him as if it were his skin. In his hands was, instead of his usual cane, a long scythe, its blade glittering in the rain. And he smiled at her the very smile that haunted all her for the last five years.
Every part of her screamed to run, but her body was frozen to the ground, unable to move. She just sat there in the storm, watching the lightning dance off his gleaming fangs and his cold, silver-gold eyes. The corner of the side of his mouth was raised a little as he kneeled himself down before her, calmly reaching for her trembling left hand and leaning forward. She wanted to shrink back as he raised her wrist towards his face, which apparently amused him enough to produce a blood-curdling chuckle. "Oh, oh, dearest Elsa. Ever fretting over the slightest of matters."
He planted a soft kiss against her wrist, sending a shudder down her spine. She knew that the act was of some significance, but she didn't know of what.
The man in the dark robe drew nearer to her, and though her first instinct then was to sock him in the face and flee, she didn't. She was as still as statue, and perhaps as trapped as one in under its stony shell. She felt his fang lip brush against her ear and heard an unsettling whisper, "Flesh of my flesh; blood of my blood."
Her stomach churned, her body shook, but she could not move.
"Thine soul I bind to mine - to torture or pleasure; to damn or to save." There was a peculiar sort of solemnity to his words, like one reciting an oath or a blessing. "Upon thee, I stake my claim; upon thee, I mark my name."
If this was a dream, she wanted to wake up. She tried, and tried, but she could not. And then she was starting realise that this mightn't exactly be Nightmare.
"The heavens themselves cannot break that which has been formed from the unholiest depths and bound by the most defiled of laws." His grip on her wrist suddenly tightened and she winced, but her terror far outweighed the pain for her to pull away. "I will be your lord, and you will be my companion; my beloved; my bride."
No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, NO, NO, NO! Someone, anyone, please! Get her out of this! PLEASE! ANYONE!
Out of nowhere, she felt him move away. Relief swelled in her. It was over.
She presumed too soon.
Teeth latched themselves to her neck. She wanted to scream, cry, whimper, anything, but she couldn't. She was frozen that very moment, incapable of controlling her own limbs or even facial expressions. She was a prisoner to her body - the very body that was being drained of its life.
Her head forcibly tilted back, her vision of the stars started to blur – whether because of the dizziness in her head or the tears in her eyes, she couldn't tell. Her unmoving limbs felt weaker than ever and she felt sensation leaving her body, slipping her into a hazy unconsciousness.
"Elsa. Elsa!"
She was awoken by the shaking of her shoulder.
The blonde girl bolted upright and shoved the hands on her away, screaming.
"Elsa! It's me!" Her flitting eyes met Anna's concerned ones. Behind her stood Kai, holding an umbrella over the two of them and looking quite troubled. "It's just me."
The sound of pelting rain all around them helped to sooth her somewhat. Elsa swallowed, head jerking side to side as she noted that she was sitting in the middle of empty road – one that she recognised led deeper west from the main town. There was no overturned car or shattered glass, just Kai's sedan that was stopped not too far away, headlights blaring on her skin.
"You were sleepwalking," her sister explained to her slowly, helping her up to her feet. "It took us ages before we found you. How on Earth did you walk this far?"
"We'll have lock the bedroom door next time," Kai said as he gently guided them back to the car. "I don't think any of us one to be caught the rain like this again, especially not at one in the morning."
"That's the thing." Anna frowned. "I'm pretty sure I did lock before turning in last night, soo…"
She rubbed her eyes, trying to calm her breaths. It was just a dream. J-just a dream. But it had felt so real.
Besides, dream or not, her memory was accurate. She knew for a fact who her 'mysterious stranger' was, and she trembled at the implications of her delayed realisation. "We need to go the police."
"The police?" Anna and Kai exchanged looks. Cautiously, their balding guardian asked her, "Did something happen? Were you attacked?"
The blonde girl shook her head. "But I've remembered something – something about the man who had escorted me home in the rain on Monday night." She glanced briefly at Anna, before turning to Kai. "He's dangerous, and he's in this town. We have to tell the police about him."
Confusion was written all over Anna's face, while Kai just appeared even more disturbed. "Elsa," he said in the gentlest tone possible. "When you came home on Monday night, you were alone."
"There was no man escorting you anywhere," the younger girl added.
Her jaw fell open. She clearly remembered the man – the creature – having stopped her right at the door and waited for her to enter the shelter before disappearing in the night. Yet, now it kind of made sense why they didn't ask her about her odd companion that night. They wouldn't have, if they didn't even see him. "What about earlier this evening? Anna, surely you must have seen a man in black leaving-"
"I already told you, Elsa. There was no man." Anna's usually cheerful countenance was twisted in worry. "Are you alright? You're starting to scare me a little."
"Maybe we should get you someone to talk to, Elsa," Kai suggested, himself eyeing the blonde with consternation. It might have been unconscious, but the portly man had stepped between the sisters, as if shielding Anna from...well, who else?
They didn't believe her, and honestly, she wouldn't, if she were in their place. Sighing, Elsa told him weakly, "Can we talk more about this in the morning? I'm tired."
Kai nodded, conceding to indulge her just this time. But the meaningful look he shot her after Anna climbed into the car told her that they would be speaking extensively about this. He was definitely going to take her to a shrink. Brilliant, brilliant. Absolutely stellar.
The ride home was quiet, and Elsa didn't know when she had fallen asleep, but she had. Because she awoken this time - without frightful dreams taunting her - she was in her bed. She had been changed out of her soggy nightgown, but her hair was still a little damp and desperately tangled. A glance across the room told her that Anna had already departed for school. A glance at her phone told her that it was mid-morning and she should awaken.
There were some messages in her inbox, mostly from Anna asking on her wellbeing. There were a few from her guardian, telling her that he arranged for her to see a psychiatrist in town that afternoon.
She groaned. She had hated all her visits to the shrink back in her younger years and the thought of repeating was almost horrifying as the visions she had last night. Oh, she had decided that they were just visions, because a lot of things wouldn't make sense otherwise, like watching a younger version of herself, or seeing the car wreck from a third person point of view. Even if she was right and the mysterious stranger was her parents' murderer, the dream that she had yesterday was in fact, just a dream.
The girl climbed out of bed, resolving to take a shower and get her hair fixed up. As she made her way to the bathroom, she found herself studying her left wrist.
The many scars scratched along that narrow width of flesh didn't have the same origin. Some of them were really from the crash five years ago, probably when she stuck her hand through some glass or pointy debris. Others however were completely on purpose. When 'the voice in her head' had been a great disturbance issue, she had heard of the method that some used to shed their pain. She just thought that she could kill the burning sensation along her wrist in a similar manner. Her cuts hadn't been all that deep, but it had been enough for Kai to send her straight to the mental institution. She couldn't explain exactly that she wasn't trying to kill herself – she was trying to cut the horrible ache out of that wrist. Only when she succeeded would the voice in her head stop its taunting.
They placed her under very close scrutiny after saying all that.
But out of all the scars that decorated her wrist, the most prominent was the one that didn't match the others in their long, stripy looks. No, it was a very small wound, but deep - two puncture marks, about an inch-and-a-half apart.
She had been sure at that time that the vicious shadow that murdered her parents had been the one responsible. But after endless therapy and talking, she had conceded that even if the shadow was real, him biting her wrist after what he had done to her mother didn't make sense. In fact, looking at it now, it still didn't make sense.
Elsa slammed her hand against the switch for the bathroom before she ended, shaking her tangled mop of hair over her shoulders. As she stepped before the sink, she began to wash hands before stopping short.
The mirror in front of the sink. She had been avoiding looking at it for the last few days, in fear that she would see what she didn't want to see. Yet, at this very moment, she felt an urge do so, as if to prove that the odd sights she had seen were just figments of her imagination.
Hesitantly, she lifted her head and saw…
…her reflection staring back.
No translucent reflections. No flickering lights. Just a normal, unremarkable reflection. Well, it was a reflection of someone who seriously needed a bath.
Feeling as if a great burden had been lifted from her shoulders, Elsa decided to strip down and enter the bath stall. The warmth of the water was soothing, and scrubbing her skin made her feel refreshed. After drying off, she wrapped her towel around her now smooth yellow-white hair and put on her clothes. When she stepped back in front of the mirror, the image reflected back was still very much normal, though her complexion was rather pale.
Shrugging this little lack in her appearance, she picked up her toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste on it. Shoving it in her mouth, she began to systematically brush her teeth, the way she always did. In the middle of this routine, however, she paused, for she had noticed something about her reflection.
Elsa leaned forward, toothbrush still in her mouth as she twisted her neck to the side, running a finger down to the odd blemish she had noticed.
It was a pair of puncture marks, about an inch-and-a-half apart.
~~~0~~~
Thursday, 20th February 2014.
289 years ago, this very day, he had died. He had been seventeen.
Are people allowed to celebrate their own death anniversaries? It's kind of weird, but still - he wouldn't object to anyone giving him free cake. Or something. Anything to make this miserable day less miserable. And it's pretty miserable to be attending the funeral of someone else on the day that you also happened to have died.
"Thanks for coming with me."
"No problem." The blonde by his side let out a long sigh. "After all, I did know her too."
Both of them were standing near the back of the crowd. Everyone was garbed in black and white, with expressions largely of the former sort. Solemnity was all around as the town reverend preached on passing on, grief and difficult circumstances. The sky was overcast, fortunately, for it would be awkward to carry an umbrella if no one else was. That, or have inexplicably deep fried skin after a tenure in the sun.
"How did you guys meet?" Jack asked the doctor quietly, not wanting to disturb those listening to the sermon.
"Well, she came into my clinic with a broken arm. Said she had been climbing trees. Turned out she was foraging for a dangerous breed of juniper." She let out a small chortle, then sighed. "I spoke with her further and found out she was planning to curse a teacher for talking down at her – a Mr. Weselton?"
"The history teacher?" Jack's eyes widened in surprise. "Well, he does make a lot of people mad."
"Yes. I talked her out of it. Since then we have been friends, in a way." She added the last comment as an afterthought. "I admit I didn't know her as well as I'd hope I would. Merida kept a good deal to herself – a little too much at times." Rapunzel looked towards the object at the centre of attention and let out a deep breath. "I wonder if that might've been her undoing. Poor dear. She was a little too impulsive for her own good."
The reverend had ceased to speak, and at the small podium that had been set up, a woman had stepped up. She appeared to be in her late forties, dressed in a very sensible looking black dress and her long brown hair, along with the streak of white, was combed very carefully behind her.
"My daughter and I," she began saying, "did not exactly have the finest relationship, but she was still my daughter."
Jack let out a breath as he gawked at the prim, slender woman. Merida's mother – also a witch. All Bunny's warning about witches started ringing in his mind like alarm bells. Sure Merida herself was witch, but she had proved that she was first and foremost a teenager. Heck, she saved his life even though he was a vampire! But a full-grown witch? Who knows what she would do if she knew a coven of vampire were staying in such close proximity.
He gulped.
"Merida's always been very headstrong. Gets it from her father, clearly." That earned a few chuckles from the crowd, lightening up the gloomy atmosphere somewhat. The dark-haired woman – Mrs. Dunbroch – carried on, a ghost of a smile on her lips, "We butt heads almost daily, unable to agree upon practically everything. She had always had a wild-spirit, longing for adventure and excitement. She saw herself as a hero, in a way. It had always been her intention to prove herself - on her own terms, in her own way. She had so much to live for-" a heavy, bitterness had entered her tone and her lip had curled itself down in a grimace "-so much to achieve. She was robbed of that."
Mrs. Dunbroch had to stop at that moment, for the emotion had overcome her too greatly. Though he was wary of her, Jack felt a surge of compassion when she gazed down at the box which held her only daughter. Her only daughter, who had been brutally murdered and mutilated.
"Let me make no mistake." There was fire in her eyes as she spoke, almost unnatural. "Those responsible will pay."
And somehow, her gaze rested on Jack when she said that.
That had disturbed him very greatly, to the point that he didn't pay much attention to the rest of the funeral. He just found himself staring at the stately brunette woman, who didn't shed a tear as she threw the last of the roses on top of the coffin. Surrounding her was a big, brutish fellow with bright-red hair that made it obvious that he was Merida's father. By her knees stood three identical little lad's, too with the hereditary flame-coloured curls.
Once it was all over and all was left was for the family to thank the attendees, Jack felt a little nervous. He knew it'd be rude not to offer his condolences directly to them before leaving, but he couldn't help but feel very reluctant to meet Merida's mother face-to-face. When he had told Rapunzel so, she looked at him incredulously and said, "Jack, it's the least we could do. It's not as if you have tell them how you know their daughter."
"But the lady's a witch, you know," the boy hissed. "What if she has mind-reading powers and she finds out-"
"Witches aren't psychic." The doctor rolled her eyes at him. "I'll go with you. C'mon."
So it was with great disinclination did Jack join Rapunzel in the queue. There was really quite a turnout, for the horror of the murder had spread across the town and many wanted to come, if only to peek into the drama. But the clutching feeling in his throat make Jack feel like the queue wasn't long enough. Before he knew it, he was standing right in front of Mrs. Dunbroch herself, trying to swallow in his anticipation.
"Thank you so much for coming," she murmured to the person who was ahead of him. Then Mrs. Dunbroch turned to him and he was found himself thrown off by those very brown, very dark eyes.
Trying to get a grip on himself, Jack stuttered as he held his hand out. "I-I-I'm really s-s-sor-ry ab-about-"
The lady was clearly touched by his efforts to express himself, and her warm handshake was evident of that. "Thank you, young man. We struggle, but we'll get by."
Their hands parted, and Jack was only too glad to move on to shake the giant that was Merida's father – you know, the one that didn't know that his wife and daughter were witches. But just as he was about to shake Mr. Dunbroch's hand, he heard the woman say, "Just a moment."
Inwardly, he screamed. Outwardly, he turned towards the woman and inquired weakly, "Yes?"
Mrs. Dunbroch squinted hard at him, stepping forward. Jack tried not to flinch too obviously.
She cocked her head to the side, before saying finally, "I know you - from the papers. You're Jack Guardian, aren't you? Jack F. Guardian."
He could lie, but he knew it wouldn't be convincing. "Yeah. That's me."
"My daughter's body was found in your locker."
Yep, she was going that route. "Yes."
Mrs. Dunbroch's gaze did not waver, nor did her voice. "Why yours? "
He could only shrug, because honestly, he was still trying to figure it out himself. "I don't know."
She seemed disappointed with his answer, but merely answered, "Well, have a safe journey home. Thank you for coming."
As he and Rapunzel walked themselves out of the cemetery, she told him, "I need to do some shopping in town first. Will you be alright getting home?"
"Don't worry." He nodded, sending her wry grin. "I'm a strong independent young man. I can look after myself."
She chuckled at his reply, before heading down towards the road that led to the town centre. Jack started hesitantly on the road that would bring him back home. Technically, there was still school on today, but he was planning on using shock as a reason for skipping out. He did need to help Tooth pack if they were still moving out by Sunday.
Then again, though he wasn't really shocked anymore. Just disturbed, and the witch's question rung his ears.
'Why yours?'
Why Merida? Why him? Who was this murderer? And what he or she trying to convey?
~~~0~~~
Chongqing Mao Xue Wang (by Bunny)
1 Cup of Duck Blood Curd
0.5 Cups of Ham
0.5 Cups of Duck Tripe
0.5 Cups of Bean Sprouts
4 Tablespoon of Cooking Oil
1 sliced Dried Red Pepper
2 teaspoon of Sichuan peppercorn
0.5 teaspoons of sesame seeds
Three sprigs of Parsley
0.5 Cups of Spicy Hot Sour Sauce
How to Prepare:
1)Wash all meat products. Slice all up into chunks.
2)Boil 2 cups of water. Add Spicy Hot Sour sauce.
3)Add in Blood cud, Ham, Tripe into the water and allow to cook.
4)In another pot of boiling water, add washed bean sprouts and blanch.
5) Drain all, and put together in the same bowl.
6)Add oil into the wok and heat. Add Sichuan peppercorn and chili pepper until aromatic. Sauté thrououghly before pouring over the rest of the meat.
7) Sprinkle sesame seeds and parsley on the dish and serve.
~~~0~~~
As the grieving family were on their way out of the cemetery, a dark-haired woman dressed all in black appeared near the exit. She approached them, manner all gushing, "I'm so, so terribly sorry, but do you know where the funeral for the girl 'Merida Dunbroch' is being held? I do hope that I'm not too late."
The husband and wife exchanged looks, before Elinor answered, "I'm afraid we've just concluded the funeral."
"Oh, oh dear." The woman did seem genuinely disappointed. "That infernal car of mine. It's a never-ending source of trouble. Oh, oh-" her attention flitted to the family "-I just wanted to give my condolences. What happened – simply dreadful to the core."
"Thank you," Elinor told her sincerely, but tiredly. After shaking the woman's hand, Fergus had gone off ahead to catch up with the boys, who had already sprinted down the hill, towards the parking lots.
Thinking it wouldn't polite to send this woman off so hastily after all her efforts to get here, Elinor decided to strike up some conversation. "Did you know Merida?"
"Not in person, I'm afraid," the other woman lamented fashion. She had black, frizzy hair that extended to her waist, and a pair of deathly grey eyes. "I did read it in the papers though, and my heart instantly went out to a fallen sister, especially one so young."
It was then Elinor noticed the charm bracelet around the woman's wrist. Not like the charm bracelets made of plastic that some girls would make. No, bracelet was woven from soft hair cut from young horses, and the tokens hanging from it depicted symbols that she was only too familiar. She looked up at the visitor with surprise.
The woman smiled.
Elinor then peered down the hill, where Fergus was talking to the boys. From the expression on their poor little faces, it seemed that the loss of their sister had struck them rather hard. It would be a while before they were done. To the black-haired woman by her side, she said, "Would you walk a while with me? I can show you where she's buried."
The two of them wandered back into the cemetery, past the moss-covered stones and the covered pits.
"I didn't know there were other witches in Burgess," was the first thing that Elinor said to her newfound companion.
"Well, there might be, but I'm not from around here," the black-haired woman answered, shrugging back her long poncho - so long, it might even resemble a cloak. By the faded motifs on it, it was likely that this woman had been wearing this for quite some time, and Elinor guessed that her companion's fair appearance was a result of an enchantment. "I'm here on family business, in fact."
"If you don't know Merida, then how did you know that she and I are a witches?" The mother was curious.
"On the papers, there's a picture of her in the green dress," her guest explained. "I saw she was wearing a necklace, with this pendant of bears looped in the shape of triskelion. I knew immediately that she had to be a descendant of the legendary Artio of Arctucus." The woman inclined her head towards Elinor. "That bloodline must come through you."
"You are clearly very well-versed in your history of our kind," was all she could say in reply to the stunning knowledge.
"Yes, yes, I had used my years to mould myself into the finest witch I could be," the visitor said with a prideful air, gesturing at herself with her perfectly manicured fingernails. "I didn't want to have myself occupied with affairs with men. Such of a waste of time and space, they are."
That was most certainly a jab at her, but Elinor shrugged it off. Procreation, whilst considered a necessity amongst witches, was rarely the respected route. Nonetheless, she had no regrets of her decision to place motherhood before her craft. "Of course."
When they arrived at the gravesite, the black-haired woman lay down the lilies that she had brought. "Just sixteen years," she murmured as she stepped away from the grave. "What a tragedy this truly is!" Facing Elinor, she added, "I am terribly, terribly sorry about your loss. Is she your only one?"
Elinor nodded.
"Dreadful, dreadful. And the way that her life ended – despicable! Who could have done such a terrible thing?"
"I don't know yet. But whoever it is, they will pay dearly," she vowed with a still resolve.
"Yes, yes, they must," her companion agreed. "I would aid in your quest, my good sister. But I'm afraid I've embarked on an rather urgent one of my own. A rather dangerous one, I might add, and I'm not sure if I'll survive it." Noting Elinor's startled expression, she laughed it off. "Oh, silly me. Making sound so dramatic like that."
In her sharp mind, the other witch recalled the words exchanged before. "You said you were here on a family matter."
"Yes, yes." The woman appeared a little hesitant. "Well, you see – I don't know how else to put it, but I too have lost my own daughter many years ago."
"Oh." Elinor was surprised, and then sympathetic. "I'm sorry about that."
"Oh, no, no. Not that way." Her companion was hasty to correct. "She's not dead – not yet anyway. But she's a prisoner to a very powerful creature, trapped by him in a terrible trance." A worried frown appeared on her face. "The creature had seduced her, you see. He filled her head with lies, turned her against me and convinced her to run off with him. I've been trying to find them ever since, and tracked them here." She rubbed her temple, expression mournful. "Poor girl – she never realised what he was. I wouldn't surprise that she might remain beguiled by his deception."
Her eyes narrowed. "What kind of creature?"
"Only the most foul of them all," the woman sneered scornfully. "Nosferatu."
The word was enough to make Elinor stand ramrod straight – well, straighter than she already. "Vampires?"
"Yes."
"In Burgess?" She was aghast. The notion that such a defiled, despised creature could be within miles of her own home – of her children! She couldn't believe it.
"I think might be possible for there to be more than one even."
More than one of those horrible, undead beings? That sent an churning feeling straight down to her gut. "And your daughter," Elinor said slowly, "is she one of those 'brides' that they talk about?"
"Oh, goodness! No. At least, I hope not." The woman had clearly never considered this idea before, and it disturbed her. "At any rate, my first goal would be to destroy the creature controlling her, then I'll deal with her accordingly."
Elinor pressed a finger against her lip as she pondered. "I wonder," she said at last, "if there might be some connection between your nosferatu and my daughter's murderer."
"Perhaps," the other woman echoed thoughtfully. "If that be the case, then we should stay in contact."
"Yes." The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a sound idea. As much as she wanted to a law-abiding citizen, the truth was that if the police couldn't find her daughter before she was killed, it was unlikely they would be able to find her murderer at all. Maybe this killer was not exactly a run-in-the-mill serial killer, but a being of unnatural origin who would need unnatural methods of condemnation.
Like a vampire. The beheading would be the perfect cover-up for a bite mark, if nothing else.
The two of them exchanged small selenite stones, which would allow them to communicate with one another from a distance, and even locate each other. Elinor would have preferred to exchange phone numbers, except that her companion didn't have a phone.
"Good luck in your endeavours," was the farewell her visitor gave when they returned back to the entrance of the cemetery. She gripped Elinor's hand firmly. "Do not hesitate to let me know if you require any assistance. I never refuse a sister of the arts."
"Likewise," Elinor wished her, before they started on their separate paths. In the distance, she could see the boys sitting by their father on a tree stump, clearly waiting for her. She hastened her way towards them. A few seconds later, however, a startling realisation occurred to her and she called to her fellow witch, "Wait!"
The woman with black curls halted as requested, spinning towards her with a puzzled mien."
"We never introduced ourselves." She gestured to herself. "I'm Elinor Dunbroch."
"Ah, yes." The other witch then made a small little curtsey. "Well for me, it's Gothel. Just Gothel."
~~~0~~~
"You really should get home. You look like you're gonna drop dead any second."
Anna scowled and rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay. Fine. But after I'm done with my meet-up."
"No," Kristoff contradicted, ignoring how to quickened her pace as if to flee from him. "You should go home right now and rest. Anna, you were sleeping through art class – and you love art!"
"I know, I know, but-" the girl rubbed her eyes "-I promised I'd go see-" yawn "-and don't know when else I'll have a chance."
"Tell whoever it is to postpone it," was her companion's suggestion. He sighed and scratched his head. "Look, Anna, I don't know if it's because the blood donation thing, or the crazy murder that just happened at our school, but I do know that you're not feeling well. I mean, just look at you!"
Anna supposed there was a measure of truth to his observation, but it wasn't really the murder thing or the donation that was bothering her. She didn't know the girl involved in the former and the details of the latter had been all wrapped up. Nope, the problem was that she had spent her night looking for her sleepwalking sister, changing her out of her soaked clothes, before proceeding to worry about her.
Just remembering all that made her groan. Elsa really didn't seem like herself anymore. Wanting to go the police? Seeing people that didn't exist? Not only that, she had lost her fire, her meticulousness, her task-orientated mannerisms. She just looked so lost, so pale, so …tired. It was like there was something sucking the life out of her.
Unlike Kai, Anna didn't want Elsa to see a psychiatrist, but if she wasn't going to tell them what was really going on, maybe she'd tell a stranger.
"Look, I'll drive you home if you want," the blonde boy told her as they went past the gates of the campus, out to the parking lots. "I've got the car for today."
Anna shook her head, but shot him a grateful smile. "I'm good, Kristoff. Don't worry."
Her assurance wasn't enough to calm him, clearly, but he made no further objection as he went down the lots to where his sedan was parked. Anna took the path instead, heading for the bus stop, yawning again as she did. Whipping out her phone, she noticed that she had a new message.
'In town. Want anything to drink?'
She typed back, 'Double choc-mocha would be great. I think my brain is dying.'
'One double choc-mocha coming right up, your majesty ;),' was the answer in return. 'Can't wait to see you again.'
Despite her exhaustion, Anna smiled, a warm feeling bubbling in her chest. This, she's sure, was true love.
~~~0~~~
Turkish-style Pilaf (by North)
1 tablespoon of butter
1 tablespoon of cooking oil
2 tablespoons orzo pasta
1 cup of Calrose rice
1 cup of chicken broth
1 cup of chicken blood
Salt & Black pepper (to taste)
1) Add oil and butter to a heated pan.
2) Once melted, add pasta and stir non-stop till pasta turns dark gold.
3) Add uncooked rice to pan, stirring such all the rice is mixed into the oil.
4) Pour in blood and broth.
5) Cover pan with lid and reduce heat. Allow simmer till liquid dries up.
6) Remove from heat and allow to cool with lid on.
7) Remove lid and stir rice before serving.
~~~0~~~
She was crazy. One hundred percent crazy. No, one hundred and fifty percent out of her mind. There were so many ways that this could wrong.
One; she was pretty sure that they were some kind of monster. Hans said that they were vampires, but then, even if after seeing all the blood in the fridge and finding a book full of blood recipes, it didn't mean that she trusted his judgement. But whatever they were, the Guardians were a weird, if not dangerous, bunch.
Two; she had stabbed one of them just four days ago. If Bunny hadn't survived, they will be on a warpath against her, and she wouldn't blame them the slightest bit.
Three; even if they didn't hurt her or blame her, there was no guarantee that they could help her. I mean, whatever was happening with her was so bizarre that she didn't really know what was going on.
But knowing all this hadn't stopped her from walking up Lake Road.
She had tried calling Hans, but he wasn't picking up. Well, she didn't really like relying on him anyway. The prejudice that she had since the first she had laid eyes on him still remained, and after he had allowed her to enter a house full of vampires with two puny weapons, she couldn't help but feel that he was up to something. There was Kai's option of seeing a shrink, but now that she had seen bite marks with her own eyes, she was certain that it wasn't just a dream and she wasn't just dream. Besides, other than the bite mark, she also had the beautiful sapphire ring. She hadn't dared to wear it, so merely slipped in her pocket. Perhaps the Guardians would know what she should do with it.
As she drew up to the massive mansion, Elsa hesitated. The last time she was here, she had come dashing out in fear and consternation, holding to her stolen goods. It was that very stolen book that she carried in her bag now, hoping that its return might to return her to the good graces of the Guardians. And if they were really vampires like all the evidence suggested, then maybe – just maybe – they would consider helping her instead of bleeding her dry.
She was going to die today, wasn't she?
The girl rubbed her thumb against her neck, against the part where she knew the bite lay. She refused to chalk it up to an insect bite. The bite matched the one on her wrist too much for it to be anything else. Something – someone – called Pitch Black had bitten her, and she had a feeling that he'd do it again at the next opportunity.
She needed the help, like it or not.
Elsa didn't know if it was wise, placing her fate in the hands of strangers, but at least she knew one amongst those strangers, and he cared for her. At least, he seemed to imply that he did. Well, okay, maybe she just saw what she wanted to see – she didn't know! She was kind of knew to this whole accursed dating thing, okay?
At that moment whilst she grappled with her decision, Elsa suddenly noticed a figure walking down Lake Road. There was only one house on the entire road, which meant that the figure belonged to someone coming to the Guardian mansion. In a bolt of panic, the blonde girl dashed off the road, into the nearby forest. She hid her behind a tree, clutching the book to her chest as she peeked out.
The figure that she had seen was not one familiar to her. The lovely young lady – or, well, she looked like a girl, really – had the longest hair Elsa had ever laid eyes on. It was all plaited up with, such that the tip of it barely brushed the floor. Yet, she skipped forward with such cheer and grace that one would never suspect the weight. What more, the girl with the long-hair was hauling with her some grocery bags. Was she one of the Guardians? No, no. The only of female amongst the Guardians was Tooth, and she didn't look the slightest like this blonde girl with such a bright smile.
The young lady, whose bright yellow hair was a painful contrast to her black dress, hooked all her carrier bags to one arm before pressing on the bell.
A few seconds later. The door opened, and Elsa's heart almost stopped when she saw him. It's been only three days, but it had felt like centuries. "Hey, you're finally back. What took you so long?"
What took you so long? So he knew this girl with long gold hair. Moreover, he was expecting her to return? So she had been here earlier? Or worse - she was staying in the mansion?Who was she?
"Sorry about that," the blonde said, with a little giggle in her voice as she spoke. Elsa rolled her eyes. Her every gesture reeked bimbo. "Got a little distracted in the supermarket. Felt like picking up everything on sale, you know?"
"I feel you," Jack said, beaming back at her. "Sometimes they sell those awful ready-to-eat packaged sausages in like one-for-one and I end up buying them though I hate the taste."
"I know, right?"
Oh, great, they were bonding over grocery shopping – grocery shopping! WHY?
"Those bags look a tad heavy. You need to some help with them?"
"That would be lovely. Thank you, Jack." Oh, perfect. The blonde bimbo with hair issues was beaming up at him now. Of course, it would be just lovely to feed his ego, which would clearly make herself a dozen times more attractive. Just the kind of thing girls like that would do.
After the long-haired girl had followed Jack into the mansion and the door fell shut, any inclination that Elsa had to approaching the porch had vanished. She casted a disgusted look toward the leather-bound book in her arms, flinging it down to the ground. She didn't care if she just dropped an ancient artefact in a rain puddle, and she certainly didn't care the slightest about Jack Flippin' Guardian, especially if he was able to move on that quickly.
A reasonable part of her surmised that perhaps she was mistaken. Perhaps the blonde woman just a family friend, who happened to gorgeous, dainty, infective cheerful and…and maybe like the Guardians, whatever their peculiar nature was. If she was staying in their home, it was clear that she had their approval.
Not like some crazy person went around stabbing people, sleepwalking and seeing ghosts.
As she hurriedly plunged her way through the forest, Elsa wiped off any silly tears that dare form. It was clear that it was over – 'it' being whatever semblance of a relationship she had with Jack. Even if it wasn't really over, she should end it. Because what was the point when he had clearly more favourable options, and they probably couldn't stay together anyway?
At one point, she had to stop running, because her vision had become fully obscured. She pressed her gloved palm against her eyes, trying to swallow down the sobs that threatened to explode in her throat.
'You don't need him,' the voice in the back of her head whispered.
"S-shut up," she answered out loud through sniffles.
There were no snarky comeback, no taunting mockery. She was alone now.
She was all alone.
~~~0~~~
The intrigue builds as more is being revealed about our characters. Huzzah, huzzah!
In my first draft of Chapter 13, I had actually a different intro for Gothel, because you see, I couldn't decide how or when I wanted to introduce her. After banging my head thirty times on the wall, having my bro phone the ambulance, get warded for five days and two nights, with massive plastic surgery, a brain transplant, having my consciousness transferred to a clone body of myself, fifty years of physiotherapy and eating muesli for three square meals a day, I finally came up with the idea of introducing her and Elinor at the same time. Mothers and daughters, after all, and both witches.
So I'm sure you guys will love more Jelsa moments, but bear with me, because at this point of the story, so some stuff has to go down first. Watching Stranger Things has helped inspire much in this story, to the point that sometimes I can't write this story at night lest the monster under my bed decides to eat me.
Other than that, all's peachy.
Would love reviews if you can spare some, but if you don't wanna, well, eh.
MERRRRRRRYY CHRISTMAS! IT's AIN'T A DAY, BUT A SEASON! YAHOOOOOOOOOO!