Author's Note: Sorry that this is late. A bit of a personal note: while I'm really, incredibly grateful to have a job right now, the job that I do have can be sort of… draining. But ignoring that, I'm super excited for the future arc of this story, so please stay tuned. I still have so much to show you guys!

-xxx-

Summary of Chapter Six: Danny is given a hint regarding what happens to vampires when their shadow-bending fails and they're exposed to sunlight… and it doesn't sound pretty. Later, Danny is reminded of an incident where he was burned by a Fenton Prototype when he was eight, and let's just say that Jack got his fudge privileges rescinded for weeks.

Across state lines in Vermont, Vlad has a legitimate minion named Ivor – how very Freakshow of him – and a diabolical plan up his sleeves, of course. Oh, and apparently Vlad was disfigured at one point (during a college accident, perhaps…?) and consequently always dons a Phantom of the Opera-esque mask for all public appearances and business transactions – even vampiric ones.

Chapter Seven: Power

Vlad was displeased, to say the least.

When Aragon entered his office, the undead shadow-bender seemed – uncharacteristically – on edge. The high-ranking vampire tried not to wring his hands together, scanning Vlad up and down before locking onto the man's sculpted white mask in surprise.

"Why in Orlok's name do you still wear that thing, Vladimir?" Aragon blinked, with what seemed to be genuine curiosity. "I just mean… certainly, you've healed enough to abandon that contraption," Aragon frowned, apparently forgetting his earlier unease, almost challenging the man at the imposing desk to disagree with him.

"Aragon," Vlad sneered quietly, considering the pallid man in front of him. Vlad shot a quick, intense glare at the vampire before deigning to reply, gazing upward at his study's ceiling as if hoping to center himself.

"You know fully well, wraith, that I'm only part of what you are. Do not proceed to characterize me differently. You have no idea what I've been through," Vlad finished sharply, his eyes narrowed in warning. Aragon's attention flickered toward the sharp edges of Vlad's mahogany desk, the prevalence of wood in the surrounding décor, and the hanging gold-trimmed mirror on the wall behind the masked man. All appeared to be innocent decorative choices, but to Aragon, they were not-so-subtle reminders of Vlad's upper hand. Reflexively, Aragon scowled.

"Ah, yes… of course, Vladimir. I – well, I certainly didn't mean to imply anything," Aragon amended, his bright-red eyes again darting around the room. A tangible awkwardness seemed to pervade every inch of the deceptively dangerous green-and-gold space.

Vlad broke the tension with a piercing, emotionless laugh. "Oh Aragon, you do amuse me." Vlad mimed wiping a tear from his single unmasked eye. "Now, let's cut right to it, hmm? What happened? Did you catch our little hunter?" Vlad's emotions gave off a dangerous, almost insane edge, as though he could switch up his reaction at the drop of a hat.

Aragon noted that Vlad put a significant amount of intensity into the word "hunter," despite his attempts to downplay how obsessed he really was about this mission.

Everything hinged on the young hunters' son, apparently.

"Ah, the son of the vampire hunters? You see… Err… So, Vladimir it… well, it went like this. The boy was perfectly distracted by one of our best spiders. Belova did a magnificent job. And the boy fell into our clearing. That all went according to plan. But… you know, at first, we weren't even sure that it was him. We thought Belova might have been wrong in her observations. I mean," Aragon tittered humorlessly as he glanced up at Vlad quickly, before resuming his explanation. "The boy truthfully looked so very weak, Vladimir… but, he was wearing the hunters' gear. So we did choose to advance, as planned," Aragon paused, sizing up Vlad's current expression, biting down on his bottom lip with his own sharp canines, drawing a few droplets of black-colored blood.

"And so, Vladimir… Well, I figured his parents must have told him all about us – in general, of course. I do know that you feed them misinformation, when you can. So very cunning of you… Ah, where was I? Right… Anyway, so then I told the hunters' child that we were, ah, 'starving,' I believe I said. I tried to come off as an instinct-driven monster, you know." Aragon shook his right hand in a dismissive gesture, maybe in a misguided attempt to sell his reasoning. "Well, even more instinct-driven than usual," Aragon noted wryly.

"Anyway, our best shadow-benders were executing the plan perfectly, and I tried to stay in character the whole time too, of course…" Aragon seemed to be stalling. He was now avoiding Vlad's gaze like the proverbial plague as he trailed off.

The undead leader seemed to be at a crossroads, mentally-speaking. He hesitated for an uncomfortably long time before sighing unexpectedly.

"To be honest, it really was going exactly as planned, Vladimir. But then, well, Natasia showed up…" Aragon wavered, though it was clear that he felt that he had no choice but to share this piece of information. The vampire was fairly certain that the truth would come out eventually, and figured that it was better to bite the bullet, so to speak. Not to mention, he knew that little tidbit would certainly clear up a few things.

Although, it was possible that Aragon could've miscalculated. Vlad looked livid enough to drain every last drop of the vampire's dark blood, right on the spot.

-xxx-

Danny shook his head, as though he could forcibly push that unwelcome memory back inside his skull by sheer will alone.

Every time that he'd relived this particular flashback (which wasn't often), he felt drained, like he'd just been forced to run a grueling gym class mile. Danny hated gym class.

"Danny. Danny!" Natasia's wide maroon eyes met Danny's frantic ones, her own reflecting sentiments of worry. "We…we lost you for a minute there. Are you okay?"

"Oh, sorry. I – I'm fine," Danny repeated his favorite mantra. Everything was "fine." His accident when he was eight was "fine." His grades in middle school were "fine." His nervousness about beginning high school in exactly two weeks' time hardly existed, and was therefore – obviously – "fine."

"You do not look fine," Dora observed, sounding as grave as ever.

"Thanks, Dora," Danny muttered blankly, more to himself. "That helps so, so much."

"You are welcome," Dora intoned with a dip of her head, clearly detecting zero sarcasm from Danny, for which he was surprisingly grateful.

Cal's face was also serious, and he looked as though he wanted to say more to Danny regarding their earlier conversation. "Young one – ah, I mean, young… Danny," Cal corrected, not wanting to upset the teen again. "Well, you are indeed a part of this now, so I feel as though you deserve to know. About what happens to us when we are caught off-guard… in the sun."

"Callahan," Dora interrupted. "Do you truly believe that is best for him—" She drifted off, her features reflecting her unease.

"Guys, seriously. Like I said before, I'm totally…fine," Danny grimaced, sounding fake even to his own ears. But he was also really sick of sitting on a stone slab without getting answers. Hadn't he been promised answers to everything like, hours ago? It seemed like hours, at least. "I really would rather know," Danny admitted softly.

"Dora, Nat. When you both first turned, did you honestly wish to be left in the dark?" Cal uttered sincerely. "I want to shield the fledgling as much as anyone. But you saw the pain on his face just moments ago... He has clearly been through his own darkness." Cal observed.

And then – so quietly that Danny could barely hear it, even his newly sensitive hearing – Cal mouthed, "And if we're right about him, he'll have to fight outside regardless." Nat nodded, resigned. Dora frowned, but inclined her head as well.

Danny figured he'd unpack what the whole "fight outside" comment meant later. For now, he didn't want to derail the current train of conversation.

Danny felt as though time had basically crawled to a standstill since he'd been underground, and at this point, he was ready to move on, to start up the clock again.

"Thanks, Cal… So, what – what happens?" Danny almost held his breath in anticipation… before realizing – again – that his lungs didn't seem to be working in a totally normal way. They weren't heaving in and out like a regular, living human being's would. A scary internal voice reared its ugly head at that, sneering, Yeah, duh, because you're not actually still human—

Danny took a tentative breath, realizing that his lungs did seem to work somewhat – he could inhale, at least – and decided not to completely panic just yet. Amidst the obscenities rattling around in his head was another, more lucid thought: Maybe you're just imagining things, he worked to convince himself. "Uh, Cal?"

Cal had been examining him closely, but shook his head before speaking, "Right. So, no, we do not turn into ash, Danny. We do not burn into nothingness, or dust, or anything similar when hit by sunlight, as some of the stories might say," Cal started. Danny nodded, hoping to spur him on with his encouragement. He tried to convey the basic understanding of, 'I can handle this.'

Cal either recognized Danny's resolve, or decided to continue anyway. "Well at first, it feels like a human fever. But within seconds, our skin blisters. In less than a minute, ah, the skin is permanently disfigured. It becomes like… like humans in a burn unit. Our kind can heal from almost anything – anything except for an injury from the sun. That never, ever heals. And the pain… the pain never leaves."

Jesus Christ, Danny reacted, stunned. Wait, can I even say that now? Well, at least I can still think it…I think? He filed his confusion under, "Vamp Myths to Investigate Later: Part Seventy-Two."

Danny tried to imagine living an immortal existence in consistent, unyielding pain. I guess that would actually be worse than dying, he acknowledged. Without meaning to, he shivered.

-xxx-

Danny anticipated the vibrations before they started. It was strange – almost like he felt the noise coming prematurely, far ahead of when the actual sound waves reached his newly-enhanced ears.

Danny glanced down. His phone, which was resting a short distance away from what he was now semi-affectionately calling his "slab," was cracked from when he'd thrown it after seeing his reflection, with fissures flowing up and down the screen. Against all odds, his phone still seemed to be working, even after he'd hurtled it to the ground. At the very least, a call seemed to be coming through at that exact moment. It was a call from one person, simply labelled, "Mom."

Danny really didn't understand the service down here. Apparently, he couldn't text Tucker successfully, but could receive calls? Then he remembered that Tucker also hated Apple – though for very different reasons than his dad did – and didn't have an iPhone. Maybe that's why he couldn't text Tucker, but he could still somehow get his mom's call… since it was iPhone to iPhone? If so, Danny would seriously have to convince Tuck to get an Apple device and abandon both his Samsung phone and his PDA, Clarice, when he got back to Lestat Park – that is, if he ever got back to Lestat Park.

Danny's chest physically ached: not so much out of pain, but out of an overwhelming tightness that seized him. It was like trying to stretch a too-small fitted sheet over a large mattress; his chest, just around his heart, felt like it was constricted. Anxiety, he realized in a stereotypical lightbulb moment.

He was anxious. Anxious about his mom, Tucker, his dad, Sam, Jazz, and how they all would play into his new, um… condition. He needed to get home. He needed to see his friends, to vent to Tucker. He needed, he needed… to talk to his mom.

But could he? What would he say to her? And if he told her what happened, would she even believe him? What would come first: her hatred for vampires, or her love for her son?

After being locked in what felt like a paralyzing, slow-motion battle, Danny started to reach for his phone. He figured that, regardless of whether he answered or not, he could at least hold onto his phone while he debated internally.

He realized after a beat that he'd have to actually, well, get up, and he was frankly scared. His body was as unfamiliar to him right now as his surroundings, and he didn't want to discover something else to inevitably freak out over.

"What is happening on his device," Dora asked softly in the background.

But Danny wasn't paying attention – he just wanted to have his phone back in his hands. Not to mention, all of his disbelief from earlier came crashing down again as his phone continued ringing.

He really didn't want to accept that this was his life now. What was he supposed to say? "Hey mom, I know you've been worried sick, but I'm okay, I'm actually recovering in a secret underground vampire city. Oh, and by the way, I think I'm a vampire now, too." It sounded too ridiculous to be real.

Frustrated and confused, Danny squeezed his eyes shut before steeling himself to hop down from the raised stone. The slab seemed taller than he first estimated, so he was mentally mapping out how best to dismount as his thoughts churned darkly. Could he go home? Could he tell anyone about this? The worry swirled around faster and faster, and he felt a little lightheaded all of the sudden, and little spots of light danced across his shut eyelids. It felt like his ears were popping, like they did right before a plane took off.

When Danny finally opened his eyes, his phone was in his hand, alerting him to a brand new missed call. What the…? Danny wondered, before the most likely scenario popped into his head. Duh, of course. Either Cal, Dora, or Nat must've picked it up for him when they heard it making noises.

That's what he had assumed, anyway – because what else could have happened? He didn't have telekinesis or anything. He was just – maybe – a stupid vampire. But Dora and Cal were wearing nearly-identical expressions of shock, and Nat looked both stunned and giddy all at once.

"He can already shadow-bend," Nat grinned.

-xxx-

Here's what most people don't know about having some sort of power: there's always (always) a cost. Even when you think there isn't, there is.

The public romanticizes superheroes for their daring, sure, but above all for their innate abilities. Some properties (comics, movies, whichever) do better than others in highlighting the inherent, underlying struggle. But few really capture what it means to change, fundamentally – to have your own DNA turned upside down and twisted through a blender. To feel the actual, spine-tingling fear of no longer being normal.

From an outsider perspective, it could seem cool and exciting to all of a sudden be "special," but there's also a whole, real, underlying conflict. Some think about the so-called joy of possessing "superpowers," of maybe getting revenge on bullies and enemies, of doing unbelievable, courageous deeds – but they rarely, if ever, consider the secrets, the fear, the paralyzing question, 'What am I, now, really? Am I even still human?'

For Danny, those questions were all he could think about right now, especially as he looked around at where he was, and considered what had happened to him.

He was a vampire. And no… he wasn't still human. At least, not fully.

So, what now?

-xxx-

Author's Note Part Deux: Updates & Edits: Yeah, uh… I told you guys that I'm a beta-less perfectionist, which can be a bad combination. As a perfectionist, nothing ever seems "done" in my eyes. (I'm sure my fellow perfectionists out there can relate!) That being said, I'm going to *very much try* to be better about leaving things alone once I post them, and will maybe even take an extra day or so to post a new chapter so that I have more time to ~edit~ (that's editing, but fancy).

I really want this to be good, so my updates might be slightly more spaced out – but don't worry, I'll make sure that I post something at least every two weeks.

Leave a review if you can! I find them really motivating and they usually make my day/week/month. Thanks to everyone who's reviewed so far – I seriously appreciate it so much!