Emelyne ran her hand through Jonathan's mane, thinking over all her son had told her. The events of the Skal Plague, his meeting of the Guard of Priwen, and the unlikely friendship Jonathan had managed to forge with its leader, after the young man got it through his skull, her son and he were both working to protect the city. She was so proud of her boy, he always tried to help where he could. However, the Reid matriarch had to ask. "So, you were helping Mr. McCullum sort through some older items his organization had, and both of you were shocked by a necklace that was among the items, and woke up like this the next night?"
A sleepy blink and a slight shake of his head were needed to clear the pleasant haze his mother's affections had caused to cloud his mind. "That would be correct, Mother." Jonathan sat up from where he had slumped against the couch after he had finished his story. The ekon could admit he felt lighter for not having to hide what he was from his family. True, there were things he never would be able to tell them, but it was nice, not having to hide everything from his mother and Avery. "To be frank this is not the first time I have seen something like this happen with an item the Guard had stored away." Jonathan's ears pressed flat to his head in embarrassment, "it is, however, the first time I got caught in it too." He sheepishly scratched at one cheek with a hoof tip. "That should have been a lesson to be more careful, in hindsight."
"Well, I can't say I hate the results Jonathan." Emelyne reached out to cup her son's face, brushing the fur on the ekon's cheeks. "You're positively adorable like this." She couldn't help herself as she smoothed her hands along the ekon's fur and mane. "Not quite as cute as when you were a baby, but still…" She pressed her palms to Jonathan's cheeks lightly, admiring how adorable he was as a pony.
Gentle hooves held his mother's hands as he removed his head from her hold. "While I am glad of that Mother, I fear I have kept you up far later than I should have." One of Jonathan's ears swiveled as he heard the sound of the grandfather clock upstairs chime the hour. "Oh, that's much later than I had intended," he pulled out his pocket watch to double check, seeing the time was in fact, well into the night. He stood from the couch, and held a foreleg out to the Reid matriarch. "It might be best if we get you settled in for the night, Mother."
Avery took that as his cue to leave the room and get started on Emelyne's nighttime regimen. "I shall go see to it that Madam's room is in order and ready." It warmed his heart to see the young master taking up his responsibilities again. The story he'd told explained much of his behavior in the last year, and, though it did not excuse all of it, was a balm for much of the worst of it. He stopped in the doorway, and turned to the pair still within. "Master Jonathan, please do stop home more often, you have been missed." With that Avery took his leave.
"You will be home more when you can, won't you, Jonathan?" Emelyne asked her transformed son as he escorted her out of the sitting room. She patted the foreleg she was holding onto, pleased to have answers to some of the strangeness that had surrounded her family in the last year. "I understand if you'll only be around at night, my boy," she gave it a light squeeze, "please, feel free to have some of your friends stop by too, I'd love to meet some of the people you mentioned tonight."
A fond puff of air left Jonathan at his mother's requests. "I will do all I can to stop by Mother." He gave her a fond, if slightly nervous smile. "And I will extend the invitation to some of my new companions," he chewed at his lip in thought as they made their way up the steps and down the hallway. "Just, a number of them are rather… unique characters, and rather excitable."
Emelyne gave her son an amused laugh, leaning on him a bit more. "You say that like it's a bad thing, Jonny." She gave him a fond smile and another pat on his foreleg. "The house could use some more life in it." The Reid matriarch leaned over to her son, whispering in a conspiratorial tone. "And between you and I, Jonathan, I think Avery would like a reason to show off his culinary skills." She leaned back, her free hand held up to try and mask her mirth.
The ekon let out an amused chuckle at that. "You might be right in that, Mother." Jonathan waited by his mother's door for her to open it, before escorting her in. He helped her into her chair before cautiously stoking the fireplace for her. "Please, do let me know if the room isn't warm enough, Mother." He stood, brushing his hooves off. Jonathan moved over to stand by her chair, snagging the blanket sitting nearby. "I'm afraid that's not something I can properly gauge anymore."
She reached out and took her son's hoof, patting it gently. "It's pleasantly warm right now, Jonathan, thank you." Emelyne leaned back in her chair. She took the blanket he'd held out to her, and smoothed it over her lap. "Jonny, come here please, son," the Reid matriarch beckoned him over. "I'd like to pet you again, my boy, if that's alright? Your fur and mane are just so soft."
An amused huff left Jonathan as a soft smile crossed his muzzle. "Very well, Mother," he agreed, sitting down next to his mother's chair, letting her pet him and run her fingers through his mane. The attention was soothing, causing the ekon's eyes to slide shut, and, without knowing, a low, pleased purr sounded from him.
The door opened quietly, Avery stepping inside, tray in hand. The older man raised an eyebrow in curiosity at the sight. As the man drew closer to place down the tray, both eyebrows arched high in surprise. He moved closer to ask quietly, "...Is Master Jonathan purring?"
Emelyne merely shushed him, not wanting to interrupt the little moment of peace.
After his mother had gone to bed, and he had assured Avery he'd be fine and the man had retired for the night as well; Jonathan found himself standing in front of the mirror in the bathroom, staring at his reflection after having cleaned up. He leaned against the sink, hooves bracing him as he studied his reflection. The features reflected in it were at once familiar and foreign. The ekon pressed his head against the cool glass, a tired sigh escaped him, a quiet question whispered into the stillness of the house. "What has my life become?"
He stood there, head still pressed to the cool glass, trying to hold himself together from just how strange and bizarre his life, or unlife was, when he had a moment to think about it. A quiet, broken sobbing laugh left him as the weight of it all threatened to pull his mind apart. "I suppose Mother wasn't wrong about it being like a penny dreadful."
Reid let out a shuddering sigh as he collected himself and left the bathroom, padding to his room as quietly as his hooves would allow. The door opened with a soft click, and he stepped in, closing it quietly behind him. Jonathan turned, finding his clothes where he'd left them folded, and slowly began re-dressing. The ekon had just finished buttoning his vest and was beginning to slip on his coat when something caught his attention. He finished shoving his foreleg through the coat sleeve as he tried to figure out what it was that had grabbed his focus. His ears rotated around until, there, sounds coming from the road behind the manor.
He walked over to the balcony door, and slipped outside, trying to find the source of the noise. Reid felt one of his ears rotate in the direction of the sound, and turned his head, he could see one, no, two people heading to the dock gate arguing. One of the figures had a hold of the other, forcing them along. Something about one of the voices struck him as familiar, and he slipped into his blood-sight.
Jonathan felt as if his heart had stopped again as he realized the restrained figure was his friend, Clarence Crossley, and his captor was an ekon he recalled seeing in the Ascalon club, a Duke Mansfield. A quiet desperate "No!" left him as they went through the gate. Reid's wings fluttered in a panic as he hurled himself to the streets below in a whirl of shadows, trying to follow without being seen.
Clarence tried to wrench himself free of the creature forcing him to the docks for whatever dark plans it had. "You'll never get what you want from me, demon!" The thin man tried once more to pull away, but the monster's grip was like iron. "The people will learn of the Vampire menace, with or without me!" He cried out in pain when his captor shook him roughly.
The Duke sneered, grim amusement on his face. "Oh please, people think you're a crock." Mansfield shoved Crossley forward again. "Do you know why I've brought you out here, mortal?" His eyes glittered with malice, fangs on full display, and his the points of his claws a constant threat where they pricked at the fragile mortal in his hold. "As far as Ascalon is concerned, you're an annoying little gnat." The ekon hissed in Clarence's ear, "You buzz about, make some noise, but that's it." He spun the frail man around, grabbed the collar of his suit and pulled him in close, "Where that the entirety of it, we'd not be here." Mansfield lifted the man up, till just the tips of his shoes were brushing the rough stone. "No, you'll die here tonight, because for some unfathomable reason, that blighted traitor seems to care for you."
He struggled in the monster's hold, trying to get precious air as his own clothing restricted his breathing. Clarence wheezed at the beast that was taunting him. "I don't know what you're talking about!" He clawed desperately at the hand that had him held up. "I'm not friends with any blood-sucking demons!" He spat in between gasps for breath.
"You…" The Duke trailed off, inadvertently lowering Crossley and letting his hold loosen enough so the mortal was no longer struggling to breath, as the ekon broke out into laughter. "You don't know!" Mansfield threw his head back as he continued to cackle with laughter. "Then let me tell you, mortal. Your friend, the good doctor?" His grin widened with vicious glee as he leaned in, whispering into the man's ear. "Doctor Jonathan Reid is a vampire, a blood sucking demon as you put it," He pulled his head back, malicious mirth dancing in his unbeating heart at the pitiful man's shattered expression. He couldn't help himself with another twist to the verbal knife, "Just. Like. Me."
Clarence was trembling in the creature's hold, shaking his head vigorously, whether in disbelief or denial the man himself was unsure. "You're lying!" He screamed out, "Jonny's not-" his voice cracking with emotion for a moment, "not a vampire, he's not some monster like you!" He didn't want to believe a word coming out of that creature's mouth, but he couldn't shake the niggling seed of doubt.
Mansfield just sneered at the man, holding him up at arm's length as his claws glinted in the moonlight. "Whether you believe me or not matters little." He flexed his hand as shadows and blood swirled around it, covering the ekon's claws in an even sharper layer. "You'll die all the same." A mocking grin was on his face now, "I'd say it's been a pleasure, but that will only be true once the good doctor's face is twisted in grief." The Duke swung his arm down, aiming to tear the man's throat out, when the crack of a gunshot rang out. The ekon dropped his hold on Crossley, stumbling back, clutching a burning wound. "Who DARES?!" The ekon snarled out, looking around.
Only for the Duke to be thrown back as a whirling mass of shadows slammed into him, sending him across the docks. The darkness began to dissipate as an all too familiar voice called out of it with urgency, "Clarence, are you alright?!" Coughing from his rough treatment, eyes watering, Crossley looked up from where he fell, not wanting the voice he was hearing to be real. The last lingering shreds of darkness vanished, revealing something neither the man nor the ekon was expecting. Standing between the vampire and the mortal man was some sort of small horse, clad in an outfit similar to the ones Reid preferred. Small leathery wings on its back were fanned out in an effort to make the beast look bigger as it pawed at the ground. A deep, angered un-equine growl rolled out from the beast. However, when the pony chanced a look over its shoulder, Clarence found he couldn't breath. The pale blue-grey eyes, the cut of its mane and beard (he found himself absently wondering how a horse could even have a beard), and an all too familiar scar over its nose, and under it's left eye. His voice no louder than a whisper, in sheer disbelief, the man asked, "...Jonny?"
The equine flinched at the question, and turned it's gaze back to the ekon across from them, but the guilt could be read plainly enough from the way it-he held himself, and the press of his ears to his skull. Then, in a defiance of logic, the pony's muzzle opened, and Reid's voice came out of it. "I'll explain anything you want later, Clarence, I promise." He chanced another look over his shoulder, large, pale slit-pupil eyes filled with sorrow. The sound of air being displaced caused him to whirl back around, surging upright. The equine pulled a hacksaw from under his coat, and swung it to redirect away the blow Duke Mansfield had tried to surprise them with. "I just need to deal with this first," Jonathan growled out, muzzle pulled back in a snarl as he glared at the other ekon, a wooden stake now held in his other hoof.
Mansfield broke into a near hysterical fit of laughter at the sight that stood before him. "Doctor Reid?" When the equine standing on its hindlegs only scowled further, his laughter redoubled. "Oh, this is fantastic!" The Duke straightened up as he dug the bullet out of his shoulder, flicking it off to the side. "The fearsome Ekon, Jonathan Reid, reduced to a mere farm beast!" He had a grin full of malice, bloodshot eyes gleaming. "I need to tell the rest of Ascalon about this." He drew his saber, and tried to charge past the pony, "After I deal with the mortal pest!"
"NO!" Reid bellowed, moving in a blur of shadows, and shoved the stake into the ekon's chest, catching the saber with his foreleg, hissing as it bit into his flesh. The Duke stumbled back, dazed from the strike. This gave Jonathan enough time to move himself to block the other ekon from trying that again. He kept his focus on Mansfield, but called urgently to his friend. "Clarence, please, you need to leave, now!" That was all the time Reid had before he launched himself at the recovering Duke. He swung the hacksaw into the vampire's side, and pulled, the teeth ripping through the Duke's flesh. He followed with another strike of the wooden stake, only to miss as Mansfield lept back.
Crossley was frozen where he sat on the cold, damp stones of the docks, partially in awe and terror of the inhuman fight being waged in front of him. Partially because he didn't want to believe his oldest friend was one of the creatures he'd been campaigning against night after night. The evidence was clear before him now, with Jonathan fighting just like the vampire that had attacked him. The pair of them a blur of blades, blood, shadows, and snarling fangs as they battled across the dock. A part of him wondered, while he sat there numb, how long the monster had been parading around with his friend's face. Another part was curious why he looked like a small horse.
Had everything Reid had done for him since he saw him again in London been some sort of sick joke? Some cruel amusement for the demon pretending to be his friend? Why would a vampire help him gather information on his own kind to spread to the people at large? Why would a demon not only tell him his wife had been poisoning him, but after her arrest, also help him with treatments to help recover from what damage he could?
Some bitter, dark part of his mind whispered a what if? What if his kind, best friend had made his wife poison him? Vampires can bend others to their will, after all. The part of him that could still think clearly waved that away, Venus had been trying to kill him longer than Jonathan had been back in London. The timing of his own discharge, versus Reid's own, coupled with when his illness began proved that. Everything Clarence thought he knew about how vampires behave, Jonathan seemed to defy, more-so if what he'd heard of the good doctor's deeds across the town were true. Just what was going on?
The fight was a messy one, compared to how much better Reid had gotten at fighting as an ekon, versus when he first started. He thought it was likely a mix of not having enough practice in this new form, and trying to keep the fight steered away from where Clarence was. While the spar with McCullum had helped, they were both fighting with a loss in height and reach, so, in sparring with each other, not much had changed. He had certainly paid for it during the start of the fight, but Reid was nothing if not a quick study. He had to be to survive.
As the fight dragged on, Jonathan was missing less and less, and was taking less hits from the Duke as he adjusted to where he'd need to be without over-balancing. However, he was running low on blood, as he'd been relying more heavily on his powers to make up for his unfamiliarity with fighting in his current body. He'd been trying to keep it from being obvious, that he'd been trying to stun the other ekon. Luckily for him, Mansfield put too much power in a swing and was left open enough for Reid to slam the stake between his ribs, staggering the Duke. Reid let his weapons drop into waiting shadows as he wrapped his forelegs around the dazed ekon, yanked Mansfield's head to the side, and bit down. The sharp taste of another immortal's blood hit his tongue, and he drank greedily. The Duke thrashed in his hold, and managed to throw an elbow into Jonathan's chest, knocking him back, but not without Reid taking a good chunk of flesh from the man's neck with him.
Mansfield staggered as he watched the equine spit out the flesh it had bitten away, hand pressed to his neck as he tried to staunch the sluggish flow. His healing was taking longer than he'd like. It seemed the doctor was not as helpless as his new form would make him appear. Continue fighting, or retreat and report?
He had to fight to keep his lip from curling in an angry snarl. No, he couldn't retreat, the rest of the Ascalon club would never let him live down running from a mere beast of burden. Regardless of the fact that said creature was one of the strongest ekons in the city. With an angry hiss, the Duke launched a spear of blood at Reid. Foolish, maybe after the amount of blood he'd lost from the doctor's stunt, but, well, he was livid he seemed to be losing to a tiny horse.
The doctor's hacksaw lashed through the air, splattering the projectile. Jonathan was very, very done with this ekon. He had threatened his friend, and forced him to reveal his current form and vampiric nature to Clarence. Whether by his own choice, or by Ascalon's orders, Mansfield had gone too far. It seemed he would have to teach the club that he would not abide them going after his loved ones. After he finished with the problematic Duke. Reid pocketed his stake, and held his hoof out, shadows pooling in the frog of it. He widened his stance, and pulled his hoof close to his body, his eyes shifting to red on black.
When the Duke realized what the doctor was planning, he tried to break away, honor be damned. However, he was a moment too late, as once Reid thrust his foreleg into the air, shadows erupted from the ground under Mansfield, binding him tightly as they suspended him in the air. The Ascalon member thrashed in the tendrils grasp as they jostled him higher. "No, no, no!" He screamed as, in an instant, a spike of compressed darkness surged up into the Duke's back as the rest of the shadows pulled his limbs sharply down. Mansfield howled in pain as he was dropped to the ground, writhing as he tried to will his healing to work faster.
The soft clop of hooves on stone grew louder as the doctor drew closer. He pulled his shot-gun from his coat, and slid it open. As his eyes slowly returned to their normal pale grey-blue, he slotted three special slugs into it. Jonathan closed the gun with a snap, and pumped it to load the rounds into the chamber. The sound of the shot-gun ratcheting caused the ekon squirming on the ground to flinch. Reid stomped one of his hindhooves onto the Duke's chest, the dark part of his ekon nature privately satisfied when he heard the ribs crack. "Ascalon needs to learn, I am not their dog. I'll not answer their beck and call." He lowered the barrel at Mansfield's head, muzzle wrinkled in displeasure, fangs gleaming in the low light. "And the club and their members need to learn that those I care for are off-limits."
The ekon under his hoof opened his mouth, what for, he didn't know, as Reid let his shadow claws and a blood barrier manifest, and pulled the trigger. The blast from the gun was deafening, bits of burning skull, flesh, and brain matter splattering the stone. Jonathan stepped back, leveled the gun at the corpse's chest, and fired another round into the heart. He stepped off the body as it began to smolder from the phosphorus rounds, his blood barrier falling to the ground around him with a splatter. Reid removed the spent shells from the gun, and carefully pocketed the unused round. He placed the shot-gun back in his coat, and fished around for a handkerchief. "Now, where did I put that?" Muttering low to himself, he finally retrieved the cloth and began cleaning himself up as best he could, starting with wiping the blood from his face and beard.
Once Jonathan managed to make himself more presentable to the best of his current ability, he turned around and slowly approached his friend, still sitting frozen on the damp stone. When the man flinched and started scuttling back, Reid froze in place, ears and wings drooping. "Clarence," he said softly, lowering himself onto all fours in an effort to look less threatening. The ekon-turned-pony stood still once Crossley stopped trying to back away from him. "Clarence, I won't come any closer if you don't want me to." It broke his heart that his oldest friend was afraid of him. Jonathan sat down on the stone, pleading with his friend. "Please, are you alright? Did he injure you at all?" He wanted to check his friend over, but didn't want to startle him further, either by the change his eyes went through when using his blood-sight, or by the man possibly hurting himself running away.
"Y-y-you-!" Clarence stuttered out, hands curling against the street where he sat. He shook his head, trying to get himself to stop shaking. Crossley forced himself to meet the gaze of the beast that had taken the place of his best friend, voice quiet at the start when he managed to finally ask. "How long?" His hands found a loose stone, and hurled it at the monster sitting there, watching him. "How long have you been one of them, Reid?!"
The rock pinged off the ekon's head, and while it hurt, it did not hurt nearly half as much as the accusation in Clarence's voice, nor cut as deeply as his friend not using his nick-name, or even his first name. Reid's head hung down in sorrow and shame. "Since the night I returned to London," he looked up at his friend, keeping his hooves all firmly on the ground. "Please, Clarence, I'm still me! I haven't-" He took a shuddering breath, and shook his head violently, ears flapping against his head. "Please, you are one of the few friends I still have." The quiet noise of liquid dripping to the cobble below could be heard in the stillness. "I don't want to lose you too." Jonathan tried to plead with his oldest friend, bloody tears trailing down his face and muzzle.
Crossley stared at the vampire staying seated across from him, seemingly keeping its word of not doing anything he didn't want him to. He watched as the monster cried, pleading with him. Was he trying to force him to believe the beast's words? ...No, he was still deeply wary of the creature with his friends' appearance. Clarence carefully sat up keeping his eyes on the demon. "Have you killed any humans since you became a vampire?" A part of him wanted to trust Jonathan, trust he was still as much of them man he had used to be before going to war. But… but after what he had seen in France, he was just too afraid.
He flinched as if he had been hit, when that question was asked, his whole posture sagged. Jonathan's voice was a broken whisper, emotions raw from having to tell this twice in as many days. "...Only one," he admitted, sinking further to the stone under him. "And only because I was so unaware of the world around me after first waking up like this." Reid was all a miserable heap on the road at this point. Reliving that night left him his emotions all over the place. "Had I known what I would do, I would have stayed in that stinking pit and let the sun burn me to the bones." He let his head press onto the cold cobble, "Or ran as far away from people as I could."
Was he telling the truth? Clarence wasn't completely sure, but the regret and sorrow seemed genuine enough. He slowly, shakily stood, taking in the sight of the miserable lump of fur and torn-up suit, still silently crying. This was a vampire? And if the one that had pulled him here was telling the truth, a truly dangerous one. Nothing was making any sense. "I want to believe you, but I just…" Crossley's voice trailed off. "I just can't." He turned and started to walk away, 'not yet,' he thought. He looked over his shoulder briefly, "Don't follow me, Reid," his shoes scuffing across the stone as he left. "I've got a lot to think about." One thing was for sure, he'd need to track down the Guard of Priwen first thing in the morning.
After Clarence had well and truly left, and he could see the sky start to lighten, Jonathan finally picked himself up from where he had been laying on the street. He slowly made his way back to his home, head hanging low as he reached his balcony. A sigh left him as he walked into his room.
Reid went through the motions he usually did after a fight. Removing everything from his coat pockets. Shedding his bloodied and torn clothes, and taking them to the bathroom to try and soak the worst of the blood out of them. He cleaned himself more thoroughly, scrubbing the filth matting his fur off. He left his clothing laid out to dry, and did his best to towel himself off.
He shuffled to his room, wings and tail hanging limp. He slowly made his way in, the door closing softly behind him. Jonathan crawled into his bed, wrapping his forelegs around one of the pillows, pressing his face into it as he tried to stave off a fresh round of tears. It felt as though just as he was making some headway in things getting back to as close as normal as they could, something else crumbled beneath him. His mind whirled in circles, each imagined scenario worse than the last, until the sun rose into the sky, and sleep claimed him.
Avery had wanted to check on Jonathan after finding the young master's torn clothing in the bathroom. The sight he was met with after opening the door gave him pause. Seeing the pony curled up on the bed, clutching a slightly bloodied pillow with a tear-stained face deeply saddened the old butler. He shook his head, and closed the door behind him as he left. Cork gathered up the damaged clothing where Jonathan had left it to dry, resolving to get it mended before he woke up this evening. Perhaps it would also help to make sure he had at least one bottle of blood in the ice chest for him as well.