Gusion surveyed the apartment.
There was a large television on the wall, and the remote was on the floor, in the middle of discarded chips packets. The red carpet was stained in several places while the tubelight on the wall above the sofa was flickering.
That was literally it. There was no bathroom, though Gusion knew that Cecilion didn't need one, and there was no bed.
"I"m gonna say this; the guy didn't live well," Helcurt drawled. "And now I feel bad for killing him, though maybe it might have been a release from this world for him. You and your girlfriend get literal mansions and this guy gets stuck with an amputated apartment? There's some serious prejudice going on here, that's what I'm saying."
Gusion pressed his fingers to the walls, sending a magic pulse out to survey the house, and his lips curled upwards as he found what he was looking for.
He stalked to the television, stabbing the wall behind it. Gusion had cast a pretty basic charm to ascertain any secret locations in the apartment, and that wall was apparently hollowed out.
The paint fell to pieces and Gusion raised his eyebrows at the various bundles of notes stashed behind there.
Helcurt leapt up onto his shoulder. "This guy was freakin' loaded, and he still lived like this?"
Gusion reached behind the money, and extracted a battered and stained HP laptop.
He sat down on the sofa and opened it, shrugging Helcurt off, who began stalking around the apartment.
"What's his password?" he wondered. He typed in 'Cecilion', and hit the enter key.
Wrong.
He tried Cecilion1.
Still wrong.
Gusion scratched his head, frowning. He had never been close to the vampire, and had no idea of what he would set as his password.
"Helcurt! Is there any way you can find his password?"
"Gimme a sec."
Helcurt sniffed his surroundings and crept up next to Gusion. He sniffed the keyboard and slowly tapped out a few letters.
"C-A-R-M-I-L-L-A," Gusion slowly read, before snorting. "Whipped."
"As if you've got room to talk," Helcurt retorted, leaping off the couch. Gusion hit 'enter' and was greeted with his inbox.
"Huh," he mused, opening the most recent email which was signed by 'The Prince Of The Abyss'. "Apparently they've got WiFi down there."
He clicked it and found an attachment, which he opened, and had to fight a snicker. It was just a picture of Dyrroth, apparently holding a head of garlic. The caption below read, "ANSWER YOUR PHONE."
Gusion frowned. Could something be on Cecilion's phone?
He opened a new tab and opened WhatsApp Web, scrolling through his contacts. Nothing showed up when he searched Dyrroth's name.
A scraping noise came from the side walls and Gusion looked up to see Helcurt scratching the walls, making gouges in them. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I need to keep my claws sharp, don't I?" Helcurt snarked, continuing to peel off chunks of paint.
Gusion shook his head, returning the computer. He searched up 'Abyss' and found something.
"Abyssal Midget," he read, chuckling. Dyrroth was average height for a normal human but was certainly shorter than most dark creatures.
He opened the message feed and saw a stream of messages, ranging from frantic to calm and mocking.
The gist of it was plainly obvious-Dyrroth had been pressuring Cecillon to help Selena assassinate Alucard. Selena must have also been planted by Alice.
Gusion snapped the laptop closed and stood up. "Well, we've got evidence to try and exonerate ourselves."
Helcurt stopped scratching the wall and turned around. "And exactly what do we do now?"
Gusion grabbed a pen off the table and wrote on a piece of paper that was dropped on the floor. "The password is Carmilla," he murmured to himself as he finished writing.
He tucked the pen into his pants pocket before carrying the laptop. "We're killing Carmilla next, right? We'll just leave this as evidence at the crime scene."
"You talk about manslaughter quite plainly," Helcurt remarked, trotting next to him.
"What do you mean?"
"You're more comfortable with killing than the average seventeen-year-old."
"I've been fighting in a war since I was twelve," Gusion said bitterly, pushing the grille gate open with a slight creak. "Death is nothing new to me."
"This is murder, though," Helcurt continued. "Cold-blooded murder."
"We're not killing innocents," Gusion countered. "These are killers."
"And yet, it takes something special to kill, or at least order a murder, like it's second nature. Without remorse."
"I've done things I'm not proud of. And there's only some people I talk to about those."
"Does dear Lesley Vance fall in that category?"
"You would do well to remember that you don't fall into the category."
Helcurt's raspy voice, for the first time since they'd been acquainted, felt threatening. "Be careful. Murder can be intoxicating."
Old memories floated through his mind, and Gusion's hands clenched. "Drop it."
Helcurt fell silent, and Gusion pressed the lift door.
A moment later, they left the building and entered the car.
Gusion lowered the window and held his hand up, clenching it in a fist.
"What are you doing?" Helcurt asked.
Six daggers hurtled down from the third floor and melted into his fist.
Gusion started the accelerator and the car hurtled off.
Three floors up, Lesley Vance dropped to the floor, coughing as the daggers that had trapped her in place suddenly flew down.
She dragged a hand down her face, slick with sweat, and slumped against the wall.
The weight of the phone in her pocket felt heavier than ever.
I need to get Harley back.
She stumbled forward, breathing raggedly, and picked up her rifle. She slid it back into its harness.
The phone in her pocket buzzed, and she fished it out of her pocket, dread mounting in the pit of her belly.
She accepted the call. "Hello?"
"Vance," Dyrroth's spine-chilling voice replied. "Is he dead?"
Lesley moistened her lips nervously. "You said-you said I have 48 hours. It's still-" Lesley checked the time. "It's still 11.30. I still have-"
"I asked a yes-or-no question, not excuses," Dyrroth snarled. "What's the answer?"
"No," Lesley answered.
"Shame," Dyrroth's slimy voice slithered through. "I expected more from you. Little Harley told me so much about you."
Panic kicked through her body. "Dyrroth, please, don't harm him-"
"You might want to be faster," Dyrroth replied. "Or, well-there are some things you can never go back from."
"No!" Lesley begged. "Dyrroth, he's my brother-"
"Apologise," Dyrroth growled.
"For what?"
"Remember why I'm doing this?"
Lesley tried to remember, but all of a sudden, her memory went fuzzy. She swayed on her feet, suddenly dizzy and light-headed. "I-I shot you," she suddenly recollected, remembering the one amber eye looking at her as if he could see into her soul.
"Yes," Dyrroth breathed. "Apologise."
"I'm sorry," the words flew out of her mouth automatically. "Please give him back-please."
A wild cackle exploded from the other end and the line went dead.
"NO!" Lesley burst out, dropping to her knees. No, no, Harley-
Tears flooded her vision and her world spiralled out of focus, her breathing going erratic. Suddenly everything felt oddly distant, her head buzzing, and her lungs felt empty.
Her stomach felt like it was trying to throw itself out of her body and bile rose in her throat. Her body swayed, feeling like it was out of control as tears dropped from her eyes.
Lesley tried to close her eyes and focused on the mantra she'd adopted. "Breathe in, breathe out, breathe in, breathe out," she mumbled fainty to herself, blinking rapidly.
Slowly, her breathing returned to normal. Lesley slumped against the wall, every muscle in her body sore.
She grit her teeth and stood up, brushing the dirt off her knuckles and placing the phone in her pocket.
Alucard patiently waited for Silvanna's reaction.
"The girl said it wasn't him," Silvanna muttered.
"She might be wrong."
"Where is she?"
Alucard shifted. "Probably at home?"
"Bring her in."
"Right, your Highness."
Lancelot was too close to dozing off when his phone went off.
He was tempted to just straight up ignore it but the annoyance of "Never Gonna Give You Up" blaring in his ears was too much to ignore.
"Hello," he spoke in a hoarse voice.
"Lancelot," Alucard's tight voice rang out. "Do you know where Lesley is?"
"At home?"
"Right, except that she's not there."
Lancelot sat up straighter. "What do you mean? She's missing too?"
Alucard sighed. "Her Royal Highness wants to see Lesley. Where is she?"
"I'll call her."
Lancelot cut the call and dialled Lesley's number and waited.
"Lancelot?" Lesley's voice came over, sounding weak.
"Lesley? Where did you go?"
"Just for a walk. I fell asleep on a bench."
Lancelot rolled his eyes. "Princess Silvanna wants to see you. As soon as possible."
"I'm on my way."
She hung up.
Lesley swung one leg over her bike and twisted the handle.
She'd deliberated asking the Resistance for help, but Dyrroth had probably anticipated that and had anyway taken Tigreal out of commission.
And now Princess Silvanna was asking to see her.
Lesley had talked with the princess before. Silvanna was quite blunt, but incredibly perceptive. The last thing Lesley needed was for her to find out the situation she was in.
With a deep sigh, she drove the bike towards the royal palace. Might as well get it over and done with.
Silvanna watched the sniper enter the room.
She seemed tired, judging from the way her shoulders slumped. Her rifle had taken a beating which was evident from the scrapes on the barrel of the rifle, and her messy fringe signalled her being roughly thrown about. The eyepatch was more frayed than normal.
"Lesley Vance," Silvanna spoke.
Lesley curtsied, which surprised Silvanna until she recalled her adoptive father had been a duke. "Your Majesty."
"You discovered Cecilion's body, did you not?" Silvanna walked down her throne and twirled her lance, noting the way Lesley's uncovered eye flickered ever so slightly to the spinning blade.
"Yes."
"Did you note anything unfamiliar?"
"Aside from the dead body? No."
Silvanna nodded. "You may go."
Lesley curtsied and walked out.
A few seconds later, steel cables attached themselves to the walls and Fanny swung into the room. "That was a lot faster than I expected."
"She's fairly difficult to read," Silvanna noted. "She's also been in a fight recently. She isn't telling us the whole truth."
"Do you want her to be followed?"
"No. We'll give it a few days, we have to focus on Tigreal first."
Gusion drove the car into the parking lot and walked out, Helcurt by his side.
"So what now?"
"Now," Gusion breathed. "We wait until nightfall."
"And then?"
"We kill Carmilla."
Helcurt nodded, then smiled. "Murder again."
Lesley left the palace and drove home, dreading Dyrroth's inevitable call.
Dyrroth whistled to himself as he walked through the walls of the abyss.
Cecilion had been killed at Gusion's house. He'd been brutally ripped apart into pieces.
Why wasn't Gusion suspected?
Dyrroth called Carmilla.
Carmilla's voice was fairly firm. "Hello?"
"Dyrroth here. Who found Cecilion's body?"
"The girl-the one with pink hair and a gun. I can't remember her name-"
"Lesley," Dyrroth's lips peeled back in a grin. "Lesley Vance."
"Why do you ask?"
"The killer is Gusion. The boy with the knives."
Carmilla's snarl caused the phone to shake. "I'll kill him."
"Good." Dyrroth cut the call.
Gusion was targeting those on the dark side? He could either try to stop him, or-
Dyrroth's grin widened. He had a few loose ends to tie up anyway.
He slipped his razors out. "Mom!" he shouted down the hallway as he pressed the gem on his chest and opened a portal. "I'm going out!"
Alice rushed out. "Where are you-" she began, but Dyrroth had already stepped through and closed the portal.
The sun fell quickly and the stars glimmered in the night sky.
The car's door opened and Gusion stepped out, his dagger glimmering in his right hand.
Helcurt stepped out behind him.
In front of them stood a black house, almost as big as that of Gusion's.
The stench of blood hung in the air, subtle enough to not launch an assault on their senses.
On the other side of the city, a large yellow house adorned with decorations stood, in the sight of Dyrroth.
His tongue flicked out, moistening his lips.
He had no doubt that the occupant of the house would put up a fight. But this time, he wouldn't let her slip through his fingers.
Carmilla snarled to herself.
She'd been acquainted with Gusion-they'd been part of Castle Aberleen.
He'd killed Cecilion.
He would pay.
Three sharp knocks sounded from the door, and Carmilla strolled over, opening it up.
As if the gods had looked down on her, the person she'd been looking for stood on her doorstep, with not a hint of suspicion on his face.
"Hey, Carmilla," Gusion waved, his face not showing a single sign of regret. "Cecilion told me to go to your house. He even gave me the laptop." Gusion held up a grey laptop bag.
Carmilla schooled her features into a smile. "Come in, then," she said, a fanged grin on her face. "You shouldn't be out here this late."
Miya was getting ready for bed when there was a loud knocking noise coming from the front door.
Frowning, she walked to the door and peeked through.
No one stood there.
She turned around when a knocking sound came again.
She opened the door, annoyed.
Dyrroth stood on the doorstep, completely poker-faced. "Long time no see, elf. Didn't feel like keeping in contact? Or were you too busy?"
Gusion fiddled with the dagger in his hands as Carmilla fussed over Helcurt.
"How have you survived this long?" Carmilla asked, as she put on a necklace on him.
A discarded pile of jewellery that she'd tried to put on him lay by their side.
Helcurt shrugged. "One of my many talents."
"Good," she straightened, and pressed the pendant on the necklace.
Helcurt froze and fell on his side and Gusion shot up to his feet from the sofa as Carmilla cracked her neck and crimson wings exploded from her back, showering the wall in blood.
"Well then, Gusion," she snarled. "Did you expect to kill Cecilion and not have me know about it?"
"Yeah."
Carmilla lunged at him and Gusion ducked, though evidently not fast enough as the frenzied blood demon collided with him and they both hit the sofa and bowled it over.
Miya crawled backwards as Dyrroth strode in.
She had to get to her bow, fast, before Dyrroth got closer-
Her throat closed up as Dyrroth neared-oh god, he was right there HE WAS RIGHT-
Dyrroth leapt and landed right in front of her, and leant down and grabbed her neck.
Miya gagged, fear trickling through her veins as her lungs squeezed.
Dyrroth's claws began digging into her neck and she lashed out with one leg, solidly catching him in the solar plexus.
His death grip loosened and Miya dropped to the floor, looking up only to receive a solid kick to the face.
Gusion rolled onto his hands and legs as Carmilla turned in midair so that she was crouched on the wall, her blood red eyes glaring at him.
She bared her fangs and pounced and Gusion rolled under, his dagger cutting her across the navel as adrenaline thundered through him, the familiar feeling of battle rushing through him along with a new undercurrent of exhaustion.
It struck him how absolutely tired he was in that moment-his muscles ached as the dagger in his hand felt heavy for the first time.
Why did he need to fight now?
His eyes wandered aside from Carmilla. He didn't have to fight her, apparently.
Dyrroth heaved in a breath as the moon elf sprung to her feet and nimbly dashed at the staircase, taking them two at a time, fear evident in her silvery eyes.
He snarled and barrelled forward, leaping up to grab the bannister of the second floor railing, not bothering with the stairs as the moon elf scrambled into her room.
Dyrroth hauled himself over the railing and inhaled deeply just as the door opened.
Dyrroth waited for the sight of the elf but saw nothing, and suddenly, goosebumps erupted across the back of his neck.
On instinct, he hurled out a razor just as a light arrow appeared above him and hit him in the middle of his head, spreading out five white mini-arrows.
The elf shimmered into view behind him, his attack having grazed her thigh. Satisfaction quickly turned to frustration as he found his legs completely unable to move as the elf fired arrow after arrow at him, while furiously backpedalling down the stairs.
His legs finally were freed, but the elf was already down the stairs and was just a few steps away from the door.
Gusion hurled a dagger and Carmilla jerked aside, and the sound of blade shattering glass came from behind her.
"Nice try."
Gusion smiled. "Oh, it was a success."
Carmilla frowned and Helcurt pounced on her, the enchanted blood leaking out of the broken pendant as his claws peeled open her throat and his tail stabbed through her chest.
Carmilla hurled him off but the damage was already done. For the first time, she looked utterly feral-she, who had maintained a clean image even on the battlefield, was now a bloody wreck. Her windpipe was hanging out limply and crimson red blood soaked her clothes, her eyes now a dull red.
Gusion twirled his dagger. "You can surrender now."
Anger illuminated her eyes again. "Never," she balefully hissed, and lunged.
Gusion held out his dagger and charged at her. "So be it."
His dagger swiped her head off her shoulders and he kicked it away like a football.
Her body wetly fell to the floor and Gusion collapsed on the floor.
Silence reigned for a moment.
"Well, at least we don't have to set anything up here. The murder is gory enough to have been done by Dyrroth," Helcurt mused.
Dyrroth made a split-second decision and hauled himself on the railing, before leaping off.
He crashed into the elf and they both hit the ground unceremoniously and Dyrroth sprang to his feet, blood pounding in his ears.
The elf struggled to get to her feet and Dyrroth helped her up with an uppercut. Disoriented, she raised her bow but Dyrroth ripped it out of her hands and hurled it away. She hurled a clumsy punch and Dyrroth grabbed her outstretched wrist and punched her fist, the circular razor cracking her knuckles and she howled.
She began pleading. "Please, don't do this, Dyrroth, please-"
Dyrroth stretched, and hit her stomach with a punch.
The razor punctured the flesh and she doubled over.
No words fell out, and Dyrroth drank in the silence.
Then he raised his free hand, and punched her back.
Her spine snapped with an audible crack, and she simply jerked, before limply falling to the floor.
Dyrroth sealed the deal by stomping on her head, her once enchantingly silver eyes having lost their shine, her ponytail messed up, with her head twisted at an unnatural angle.
But something felt off to Dyrroth, something was wrong, very wrong-
Oh.
There was no blood. It was clean-too clean for his liking.
Well, that was easily fixed.
Time to get to work.