So Vlad wasn't as good as he seemed. Mir watched the dead patch of grass curiously. Buried underneath the blackened flora was a collection of ash, ash that used to be a french vampire. Bertrand.
The scattered memories that came with the vampire were both positive and negative and lacking in context but Mir had worked out enough – this was the best person, perhaps the only person, who could've helped him regain his memories fully. Too bad he killed him.
The reactions of both Erin and his family had suggested that his previous self was far too fragile to kill but here he was, standing in front of a vampire's last resting place.
Erin had been there. He remembered thrusting the stake in, pulling it back out, a puzzled face exploding into ash and the half-fang, eyes wide with terror, on the other side of the dissolving vampire.
Mir thrust his hands into the earth. The crusty dirt where the vampire was buried was devoid of life – it was stiff and dry, crumbling apart like sand in his hands. Then there was grey. The sensation, ash in his fingers and indents in skin, was so familiar that he was forced to question if Vlad hadn't somehow lied to his family about who he was. To Mir, it felt like Vlad had been a killer, just like he was.
With a shaky breath he dropped the ash. He lowered himself onto his knees and he hung his head.
"You know..." The vampire drawled. "When we said that we didn't accept little girls into the court of the Grand High Vampire… we meant it." Phaelyss was smirking and Ingrid wanted to punch him in his stupid face. "What are you doing here Ingrid?"
"Hardly the court of the Grand High Vampire." Despite the acid in her throat Ingrid feigned a laugh. "No one has cared about the council since the last Grand High Vampire died." Hardly the monarchy it used to be, Phaelyss and Valtov's entourage were holed up an abandoned church, masquerading as if nothing had changed. Their so-called 'council' was nothing more than a stack of cards.
"Yet you still come here." His striking grey eyes were smug, and knowing.
Ingrid looked around their base of operations. Mould crawled up the walls and moisture leaked down from the ceiling, the constant dripping becoming more and more irritating every second she heard it. They had been reduced to nothing, they were useless, they were fools, they couldn't give her anything. But…
"I have information." But she came anyway. "If you-"
Phaelyss cut her off. "Let me guess. If I give you a rank and we let you into the council." He relaxed into his throne. "Go on. It better be good."
"So you did come back." At his voice Erin looked warily up from her suitcase. Mir stood in the doorway to her room. There was an unhealthy sheen to his skin, though his eyes remained as sharp and calculating as ever. He gave a laugh. "Don't look like that! I'm not going to kill you."
"Jonno, he's-"
"Alive, yeah. I saw you dragging him off." His eyes glanced lazily off to the side. "I don't care about that. You owe me now. And I need your help."
Mir appeared deadly serious but Erin suspected a deception. The vampire wasn't the kind of person to let her off easy. She'd expected to grovel. She'd expected him to hurt her and beat her into submission. Never would he offer her the advantage as he was now – that was Vlad's style.
The half-fang realised it had been too long since she'd spoken. "What?" She blurted.
He frowned. "I need you to help me. I need you to turn Cheyenne into a vampire."
Erin blinked. "What?" She said again.
Mir's eyes narrowed. "You heard me."
"I did but why are you asking…" He interrupted her by extending his fangs noisily and she remembered. "Oh."
Oh, the looks that Jonno received walking into the guild with gauze taped to his throat… Already viewed as a pariah, he wondered what this stunt would earn him. He could already hear the whispers. "What's Van Helsing got himself into now?" "Who's going to die instead of him this time?" Their stares made his injuries itch and increased the anxiety that had already been knotting his core.
How to explain to Evans what happened without implicating Erin or himself? The guild leader wouldn't believe anything that happened was simply coincidence. Blaming Erin might actually be an option however. If she was smart, she surely would've scarpered by now.
He took a left and hurried down the corridor, ignoring a group of younger slayers congregating there. Finally he reached the door and knocked with a stiff hand.
"Enter." Came the acknowledgement from the other side. He stepped inside. The Colonel was seated at his desk. His eyes glittered with a smug certainty. "Jonno, I thought I would be seeing you soon,"
"What?"
"Dunham from up-north called. She said you put them on the trail of a dangerous vampire." He raised an eyebrow. "They caught a woman who was connected to the vampire but before they could question her two vampires broke in and slaughtered those on duty."
Vlad and Erin… Jonno plonked himself into the chair in front of the desk and looked guiltily into the eyes of the guild leader. He already knew.
"You know who this vampire is don't you?"
He nodded. "Vlad." His throat was dry. "He survived."
"And he's responsible for your injury? He's here?"
Another nod.
"Are you turning? It's brave of you to be here, by the way. You know what has to be done." The elder slayer pulled a stake out of his draws and began to sand it. "A vampire as powerful as him would have a potent bite."
"No!" Jonno jittered out of his chair. "I'm not turning! That wasn't why I came to talk to you!" His hand jumped to the pad on his neck. "When we injected him with argentalium it damaged him – his bites are harmless. He can't turn anyone."
"Then why?"
"Because I don't know how to stop him."