It was about an hour 'til midnight, the clear night sky blossoming with stars above the rebels' encampment. By now, the ghouls and the guys had gone to their rooms in their respected buildings–except for one.
"Uh," Holt stood confused by the Gorgon's door, "run that by me again?"
"I just want someone to look after her," Deuce reiterated to the other while standing at his bedside.
Holt shifted, leaning on the door frame. "Look after Cleo?"
"Yeah."
"But," Holt paused, furrowing his brows in confusion, "why are you askin' me?"
Deuce turned his shades-covered gaze away from him. "Well, you're the best one for the job, dude."
Holt crossed his arms. "No, really. Why me?"
The Gorgon sighed. "Well, you know, Heath is really busy running things around camp and I don't really trust any of the other guys here as much and—"
"But what about Jackson?" Holt asked. "You're better friends with him than with me." Holt wasn't particularly fond of the fact, but he had learned to adjust to the benefits his former alter-ego had and he lacked.
Deuce's eyebrows raised behind his sunglasses. "Jackson?" he scoffed, "We're good friends and I trust him and all but I don't think he'll take the time to watch over Cleo. Not with..." The Gorgon trailed off for a moment, then quickly resumed, "I just need you to watch her when I'm out."
"The search?"
"Yeah."
Holt didn't think the other monster had made himself clear. Deuce wanted him to watch over his ghoulfriend, but... "What about the ghouls?" Holt questioned.
"What about them?"
"They're gonna be with her," he told him. "They're her friends. She won't need me lookin' after her."
"I'm not asking you to be her friend, dude," Deuce told the blue-skinned monster. "I want her to have a..." he paused for a moment, his snake mohawk hissing softly as he thought briefly, "guardian, I guess."
Holt raised an eyebrow. "You want me to be her watchdog?"
"Come on, dude, it's just two days. I'd feel a lot better if I knew someone was keeping her safe."
Holt opened his mouth to protest. "But everyone here—"
"Someone who doesn't have anything else to do but be sure she's safe."
Holt was a little taken aback by the Gorgon's tone, but then sighed as he came to a realization. "So that's why you asked me." The other didn't respond, so he continued. "I'm not managing the place like Heath or genius-ing it up like Jackson."
The normie had come up with many ideas to keep the monsters' home functional, all of which successful. He still had more on the way and was encouraged to focus on such tasks. Holt, on the other hand, did more of the heavy lifting around camp along with most of the other guys. He had never left the camp.
"It's not just that," Deuce assured him. "You can relate to her, considering what she's going through. And I trust you."
Holt pursed his lips, holding back any more opposition. He knew it was pointless to argue. He knew how much Cleo meant to Deuce. He sighed. "Alright, sure."
Deuce exhaled in relief. "Thanks, dude. I owe you."
Holt frowned. "No, you don't."
It seemed to take a couple seconds for Deuce to process what Holt meant, and the corner of his lips edged upward once he had. "Thanks," he said appreciatively, placing a hand on Holt's shoulder.
"No prob," he said, giving Medusa's son a small smile. "Night," he said as he backed out of the entrance to the Gorgon's room, closing the door as he did.
Holt was left alone in the hallway, the only light being that which seeped underneath the door he had just shut. Luckily, Holt had fire elemental in his blood. He closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment, reopening them to see a faint, warm glow circulating from his fiery locks. He grinned and strode down the hall towards his room. Because he wasn't entirely fire elemental, Holt could never really produce fire. The most he could do was melt things.
Until he was separated from Jackson.
He assumed the separation let him have more freedom in the "monster abilities" aspect as well as the other, more obvious freedoms. He was already immune to fire but now he could soothe flames as well. And, after some guidance from his pyrophoric cousin, he could make his hair give off light. Granted, it wasn't literal fire but it was as much as he could conjure, not being pure fire elemental.
He made it to his room and the door opened with a creak. Holt let the light coming off him fade as he tossed aside his clothes and made his way to his bed. The glow snuffed out the second he closed his eyes. Soon, he fell asleep, his soft, peaceful breathing filling the silence of his room.
Hours later, he jolted upright, drenched with sweat. He let out a long sigh. Holt hadn't gotten a decent rest since separating from Jackson. The day it happened still haunted him. Waking up to silence in a bedraggled room and strapped down like a mental patient...
Then discovering he'd been kept away for a year.
The despair when he thought Jackson planned to get rid of him. The relief and confusion he felt when he found out otherwise. Ghouls poked him with needles before the rain poured through the gaping hole in the ceiling. Lightning struck. And it hurt like hell.
That day, when he finally regained consciousness, he opened his eyes to see Jackson lying on the floor beside the cart, looking extremely pale and weak. "I killed him?!" he remembered yelling, "I didn't mean to! I'm sorry!"
Luckily, Jackson had been fine. Holt had fallen asleep soon afterward, and then was confronted by Jackson later, astonishingly healthy and fully clothed by then.
"So how exactly did all that work?" he remembered asking him.
"You're interested in knowing how?" Jackson had said back.
Holt had shrugged. "Not really."
"Good," Jackson had said. "I have a lot to fill you in on."
"First, get me offa this thing," Holt had told him, referring to the cart he was strapped onto.
Holt sighed deeply, remembering all the things Jackson had told him. Monster High had fallen and because Frankie—Frankie!—had destroyed some land and began building a city, electricity was practically impossible to come by where they were. Which made most music impossible to come by. Jackson thought it'd be fine. He even admitted he was relieved. But when Holt's lack of exposure began doing things to Jackson's health, he found a way to split them up instead. He also explained the normie/monster world separation. When Holt had asked about their family, Jackson said all the elder monsters had disappeared, which included their parents. The street they had lived on was also demolished for space for the Queen's city.
"She's calling herself queen now?" Holt had asked, baffled.
"I know," Jackson had said. "She's not who I thought she was."
Holt remembered frowning. "She's not like that. This doesn't make any sense. There's gotta be a better explanation."
Holt had been in this new world four of five years now and there still wasn't one.
"Anyway," Jackson had said, "we're planning on taking her down eventually. Mind helping us settle down first?"
Holt had nodded. "'Course."
He kept himself busy those days, keeping his mind off the insanity of this new age. Now he just went through the motions. Being free from Jackson was a blessing, true, but there wasn't much in this world that still was. Even now he was still bewildered that everything had changed so drastically.
Holt pulled off the blankets from his bed, sitting on its edge and running his hands through his hair in frustration. It'd been years but even now he craved the pulse of music. He walked out of his room, rushing down the hall and out of the building altogether. He slammed the building's door behind him and leaned on the wall next to it, the night sky surrounding him.
"Holt?"
Holt whipped his head to his left, seeing Draculaura walking out of the bathroom building.
He sent her a quick nod. "Hey."
"Hi," she said back. "Shouldn't you put some clothes on?"
Holt looked down at himself, realizing all he wore were his boxers. Strange he didn't notice sooner, what with the chill in the air.
"Sorry," he said back sheepishly.
Draculaura giggled and took a couple steps toward the guys' building. "Sun's going to be out soon. It was three-thirty last time I checked."
Holt groaned. "I'll just stay up, then."
"Well I'm not missing out on any sleep," the vampire said. "Why are you up so early, anyway? Bad dream?" she teased.
Holt didn't say anything, causing Draculaura to start apologizing. "It's fine," he told her. "Nothing I can't handle."
"Whatever you say..." she said slowly, turning back to the ghouls' building.
"Why are you up so early?" he asked her as he watched her walk away.
She hesitantly turned back to face him. "Uh. Cramps..?"
Holt almost laughed. "You don't need to tell me."
Draculaura breathed a relieved sigh as she turned and ran back into the ghouls' building.
Holt sighed and slid down the wall until he was sitting on the building's wooden porch.
"Um, are you okay?" another female voice asked him. Holt faced forward and saw the last person he thought he'd see.
"Cleo?" he acknowledged the mummy ghoul. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"Oh. Okay," she said, awkwardly standing in front of the porch. She was wearing a long, plain white nightgown that, admittedly, looked odd on her. Some of her bandages peeked out of the long, lacy sleeves. She was also barefoot, which probably wasn't the best idea.
Her presence began to irk him. "Why are you out here?" Holt asked.
"I heard crying," she said. "I wanted to find out who it was."
"That was probably Draculaura," he told her. "She just went back in."
Cleo looked away from him. "Um, unless she was in the guys' cabin then no..." she said while steadily glancing back at him.
Holt looked down at his knees. Was it him she heard? Was he crying? Damnit. "What were you doing by our building in the first place?" he asked, facing her again.
Cleo looked down at her feet. "I couldn't fall asleep so I decided to check the place out."
Holt raised an eyebrow. "The guys' rooms?"
Cleo raised her gaze, her eyes wide. "No, no, no—the whole camp. I was heading back to my room just now and heard crying when I passed the guys' cabin."
"Well, forget it," Holt told her. "Go back to bed."
She took a few steps onto the porch. "Were you crying?"
Since when did Cleo care if someone was crying? "No," he said, convincing himself it was partially true because he was asleep for most of it. "Now go."
She sat down in front of him, pulling her knees to her chest. "Are you okay?"
Holt scoffed. "Amnesia sure did a number on you."
She was hesitant before responding. "I remember people."
"People, yeah," he retorted. "Then you should know that you don't give a crap about me."
Cleo looked down at her knees. "Who said I didn't care?"
"You know who I am, right?"
"Holt," she said, looking back up at him. "Holt Hyde."
"There," he said. "Now you know that you don't care. Unless you were throwing a party."
"But I'm not really—!" she cut herself off, looking back down at her knees.
After a long silence, Holt spoke up. "Go," he prompted quietly.
Cleo got up and rushed over to the ghouls' rooms, the last look she gave him regretful and embarrassed.
Maybe Deuce was right and she did need someone to keep an eye on her.
A sudden shuffling of footsteps interrupted his thoughts; a hooded figure came into view.
Holt ran down the porch steps. "Hey!"
The figure turned around and ran towards him, stopping a few feet in front of him. "Holt?" it called out questioningly, the voice feminine.
"Yeah..?"
The female stranger pulled down her hood. "It's me," she said, "Howleen."
Holt approached the werewolf. "Howleen?" he questioned as he stood in front of her, his feet settling on the dry grass.
"Uh," she took a step back, "yeah."
Holt looked her over. Howleen had grown over the years. She hadn't gotten much taller but she didn't have a fourteen-year old's body anymore, that was for sure. Her hair was fluffy, at her shoulders, and dyed pink with orange streaks; her long, dark, hooded coat was opened and it was hard to tell the color of the clothes she wore, the only light being that from the torches in front of the buildings. However...
"Uh," Holt observed her clothing, "you become a stripper or somethin'?" he asked, sounding a lot more awkward than he meant to.
Howleen glared at him. "Says the guy in his underwear."
Holt crossed his arms. "What're you doing here anyway?"
"I'm here to join you guys," she told him, folding her arms across her chest in retaliation.
Holt narrowed his eyes. "Join us? How'd you even find us?"
"Tracked your scent," she said simply. "Well, Lagoona's and Rochelle's. I was late because I wanted to help my friend move in and my sister was coming to visit. I told them that I'd come the day they asked me to but I didn't get the chance so I guess they left without me."
"So you know where the smaller camp is?" Holt asked warily.
"Yeah, they gave me directions."
Holt wasn't entirely comfortable about Howleen's presence at the camp, but her explanations seemed true enough. Lagoona and Rochelle would give directions to those they knew they could trust.
Holt sighed, suddenly very tired. "Everyone's asleep right now so," he exhaled heavily, "I'll show you to your room, I guess."
The blue-skinned monster turned toward the ghouls' building, the Wolf following suit. They went up the porch and Holt held open the door for her, and it shut behind them once they entered, leaving them in complete darkness. Well, almost complete. Some light was seeping through the floor of one of the rooms towards the end of the hall but, nevertheless, it was still fairly dark. Holt concentrated for a minute and summoned light like he had earlier.
"Whoa!" Howleen remarked a bit too loudly. "Your hair lights up? Clawesome! I sure missed out on a lot, huh?"
"Yeah, now be quiet," Holt whispered to her. "You don't wanna wake all the ghouls, right?"
"Funny," Howleen muttered. "I remember everyone telling you to be quiet."
Holt rolled his eyes and strode down the hallway as Howleen walked beside him.
"At least you still got that Holt Hyde swagger," she teased.
Holt grunted in response, never taking notice to his walking style before.
"Anyways," Howleen continued, still a little too loud, "that lighting-your-hair-up thing is really cool. Or hot, ha." She snickered at her own pun. "Hey, your hair seems a little shaggy. When did that happen? It looks good."
Holt looked to his right, relieved he found an unoccupied room. He opened the door. "Here," he gestured for her to enter. "Enjoy your stay," he drawled sarcastically.
Howleen entered the room. "I'm gonna need some light in here," she called to him, just as he was about to walk away.
Holt headed to the room's dresser to the left of the entrance. With the glow of the light radiating from his hair, he opened the top drawer and found a box of matches. He turned back to Howleen and held the box up in his left hand. "Matches," he told her, "for the wall candles." He indicated the glass-covered candles hanging upon the walls of the room.
Howleen tried reaching for the box but was too short to retrieve it from where he held it. Holt ignored her, taking out a match and striking it against the side of the box and lighting it, and the younger ghoul abruptly gave up her pursuit of the matches even though they were now in reach.
Holt strode over to one of the wall candles and gently took off the glass encasing with his left hand, holding the lit match in his right. He lit the candle and waved the match in one hand while carefully replacing the glass upon the candle in the other. The light illuminated the room differently than the match did, even though it was the same flame.
"Oh wow!" Howleen exclaimed. "It's like a lamp. How's it so bright?"
"Jackson and a couple others came up with some way for the glass to make it shine brighter or somethin'," Holt informed her as he took a step away from the light.
"Jackson, huh?" she inquired, stepping closer to him. "How's he doing?" She poked his stomach; he flinched and pulled back. "Ha, ticklish?"
"No," he lied. "And Jackson's fine."
"Hey wait a sec..." Howleen looked up at him with narrowed eyes. "Don't you need music to be out? Why aren't you wearing headphones or earbuds or whatever? Did the trigger change to something stupid like showers?"
"No," Holt replied, her "shower" comment sounding vaguely familiar, "we got split."
The Wolf's eyes widened. "Seriously? That's fangtastic! How?"
"We just did, okay?" Holt really didn't want to bring up the events of his recurring dream to the younger ghoul. "You can ask Jack if you wanna know so bad."
"Okay, I will. So what about—hey wait!"
Holt had already exited the room, hearing Howleen groan in frustration as he left. He heard her close the door behind him as he stood alone in the hallway, the only light coming from his hair, underneath Howleen's door, and the one door from earlier. It was only a couple doors down and across from Howleen's room.
Draculaura? He wondered as he looked at the slit of light. He sighed when he recognized it as the door he had led Deuce into yesterday. Might as well check up on her, he thought exasperatedly, hastily opening the door.
"Eek!"
Holt heard her yelp as she dove behind her bed and peeked over its edge.
She looked at him with wide eyes. "Please knock!" she squeaked.
"You're still up, Cleo?" he asked, ignoring her plea and entering the room. He wondered why she was so freaked out until: "Oh," he avoided eye contact with her, "you're changing." He gestured to her nightgown sprawled upon the bed.
"Well, I'm not naked." She rose from behind the bed, revealing that she had faded, light brown bandages wrapped around her body from her shoulders down to her mid-thigh. "It's just weird when someone walks in on you."
Holt gave her a sheepish grin, suddenly feeling self-conscious about his own lack of clothing. "Yeah, you're right." He backed away slowly.
"No wait!" she called as he turned towards the door. "I want to apologize for earlier."
Holt smirked as he turned to face her. "Amnesia really did do a number on you."
The mummy ghoul ignored him. "I'm sorry."
He raised an eyebrow. "I should be the one saying sorry. So..." He sighed. "I'm sorry." There, he thought. Conversation over. He smiled to himself and started heading out.
"Wait!" she called again, stopping him in his tracks.
"What?"
"Was that Clawdeen I heard you with?"
Holt turned back towards her. "No, it was her lil sis, Howleen."
"Oh. I guess I couldn't tell. I haven't heard from Howleen and she sounded a lot like Clawdeen last time I heard from her."
A look of confusion furrowed his brows. "What?"
Cleo froze and looked away timidly. It was strange to see her acting the way she was. "You know, Clawdeen. I guess Howleen has grown up a bit so now she sounds like her. Not that I've heard from Clawdeen lately or anything, I mean, I've been asleep for five years." She giggled awkwardly the second she had finished rambling.
Holt gave her a blank stare before taking a step out of the room. "Night," he called out as he closed the door, only to have it open again by the mummy ghoul.
"Oh and," she said quietly, pointing at his glowing hair, "that's totally volta—cool. Totally cool." She flashed him a quick smile and shut the door softly.
Holt stared at the closed door in bewilderment until he shrugged and headed out the ghouls' building to the guys'.
And by some miracle, he peacfully fell asleep
