Author's Note: Thanks for all the patience, guys! Oh, and in this chapter, I finally came up with a proper term. Cruor means spilled blood in Latin, but I got that off of some website. Blame them for giving me the wrong answer, if it is indeed wrong. Happy reading!

CHAPTER SIX:

"All right," Veronica said, her voice strong and firm. She put the thick book down on the coffee table, and Becky was surprised to see it didn't break under all the pressure. "Balthazar and I have found some interesting facts in the Incantus."

Becky felt waves of relief. She leaned in eagerly to get a better look at the page in the Incantus. "Is this the right page?" Dave, who had come down a little bit earlier, shifted his weight on the couch, but didn't move in like her. He didn't appear to be so curious, like Becky was. She ignored this behavior. It's because he already knows everything about his family, Becky told herself inside her head. And you don't. It makes sense.

"This is the correct page," Balthazar confirmed. "Take a closer look at it. We've already read what's there." Becky reached out for the Incantus with two hands, and pulled the massive book towards her lap. She heaved with all her strength, briefly wondering if anyone in the room had insurance, if the thing collapsed on her. Dave turned his head away from the large book. He devoted himself to watching the wooden door of the kitchen instead. Becky stared at his back, hoping to bore a hole into it. Then she redirected her attention to the page on the Incantus.

There was a picture that took up half the rusty, old page. It looked a thousand years old, drawn exactly like pictures were drawn in the medieval times. It portrayed a young girl in a light green dress. She had long brown hair that covered most of her face. Becky could see that her head was limp, and her eyes were almost closed. She was drawn as weak in the picture. A man was holding her, dressed in a black cloak and gray tunic. His tongue stuck out, licking the gash at the girl's forehead. Becky felt a little sick. She looked at Veronica.

"He's…licking her forehead," Becky struggled to say, her stomach churning unequivocally.

She nodded grimly. "He's taking her blood."

Becky's eyes darted across the picture again. She had read some vampire books, and in most of them, the vamps were usually described as good-looking. The man looked pretty average to him. The girl did too.

"These drinkers took anyone," Balthazar explained to her. Becky fingered the page as he spoke. "Women, men, children."

"What about animals?" asked Becky. She couldn't imagine these blood-drinkers taking their food from even animals. People, perhaps. But not animals. The few vampire books she read claimed their vampires sometimes drank blood. Those books were purely fiction, though.

"Animals, no," Veronica answered. "They believed the pure kind of drink came from the humans."

"Read the page," Dave mumbled to her. She jumped when she heard his voice; then she felt gratified. She hadn't heard him speak in so long. When he came down from the guest room, Becky was wary. He said he didn't know anything about her coming in the room, and he only had a bad dream. Becky agreed to this swiftly. Look at his family, she had reasoned with herself. Why wouldn't he have a bad dream? The explanation made sense, and Becky had easily accepted it, felt satisfied.

She did as he said, and looked down at the page . She bit her lip when she saw the first sentence under the stomach-turning picture. Unwanted food and drink are common for the Cruor people. The Cruor take nourishment from the Merlinians, Morganians, and regular beings. Their bodies provide the pure substance the Cruor need. Without the red blood, they will not have their ability; then they shall weaken and die. Cruor people often mate with humans, the only ones who can carry their offspring.

Becky swallowed something in her throat, and then tried to speak in a clear voice. "So…um, these blood-"

"Cruor," Balthazar corrected in a steely voice.

"Er, right, the Cruor," Becky said. "So, these Cruor people take the blood from people, and if they don't have any, they'll die?"

"Lose their ability first, and then they die," Balthazar corrected once again.

Becky glanced back at the page. "Have you ever seen a Cruor person?"

"We've never encountered the Cruor before," Balthazar replied. "Not a single one. They are a secretive group. Any documentation of the Cruor must have been destroyed or kept, because that paragraph is the only one in the Incantus. It doesn't provide enough information; I can only begin to imagine how these Cruor kept to themselves."

"How come no one could find them?" Becky asked, her eyebrows lifting. "I mean, what if someone important went missing because of the Cruor? Wouldn't anyone notice?"

"Like we said, we don't know much about them," Balthazar said. He got up and Becky made room for him on the couch. He sat next to her and pointed to the picture of the man in the cloak. "I believe that the Cruor drank from peasants and children. It says that they need pure blood, and I don't actually take it that the elderly provided that healthy blood. Drinking from royals or aristocrats would attract attention; the Cruor couldn't possibly be idiotic, since they haven't been discovered for many years. So the Cruor didn't touch the blood of noblemen. They went right for the common folks."

Becky was still staring at the page. "But Balthazar, how could the human woman keep their babies in the womb? Did they even survive… Oh, wait. Not enough information. Got it."

"We might never know," Veronica said. "Unless that Cyril decides to tell us anything."

"Dave? Do you know anything about the Cruor?" Becky said, finally taking her eyes off the page. She looked right at him. He had turned around now, and was looking at her too. His eyes were wide.

"No," he said. "But my uncle has a wife. He married somebody's sister, and I think she's human. Although, there aren't any kids."

"What about the ability?" Becky ventured. She traced a circle with her finger around the word ability in the Incantus.

"Again, no information," Balthazar said, his expression cold. "It would be nice to have access to any kind of data. The Cruor couldn't be detected so easily."

"My uncle can do things," Dave murmured. Three pairs of curious, suspicious eyes met his. He blushed immediately.

"What sort of things, David?" Veronica asked sternly, her arms crossing in front of her.

The blush raged on fiercely. "I don't know specifically, but it has to do something with persuasion. He says…certain words and the person does whatever he wants."

Balthazar was silent for a moment. But not in the way that one would use as time for thinking matters out, for planning. Becky saw that Balthazar was staring at Dave in disbelief. His eyes were average, but his expression was different. It was like you're kidding, right? Becky was so focused on how Balthazar was feeling and looking at the moment, she didn't really notice how she felt. She certainly was numb from learning this. It was scary now. Knowing that you would have to obey a man who drunk blood (and apparently held no sorrows or regrets about it) and couldn't resist the order.

"It's not strong enough," Dave said. He barely whispered. "So don't worry. He needs a lot of blood…"

"He can't accomplish it without blood, Balthazar," Veronica reminded him. She looped her arm around his and tried to soothe him, although he wasn't angry. He was in shock…or something like that.

"But who knows how much he has already?" Balthazar fumed. "He could be a menace to the people!"

"Leave him be," Veronica snapped, her voice going up an octave. "Think of how he feels, you criticizing his uncle like that."

Becky just realized Veronica was talking about Dave. Balthazar tucked his chin.

"It's not something we can ignore," Balthazar said steadily. "We have exactly three people out on the loose, and one of them is a Cruor. Dave? What about your sister?"

"What about her?" he challenged.

Balthazar was patient. "I meant, is she like your uncle?"

"No," Dave said, scowling at the intricate carpet. "She's an average Morganian. So is my father. I don't believe he is a Cruor."

Becky shoved the Incantus off her lap and on to the coffee table. The noise made everyone look at her. "Look, Dave," she said, releasing a sharp breath. "I'm not happy about this. Neither are you. No one's happy, if truth be told. But what's the good of avoiding the matter at hand?" Dave didn't answer, and Becky was glad since that was a rhetorical question. Balthazar and Veronica didn't interrupt, so she decided to carry on.

"There's your uncle, a Cruor. Your sister Rachael, who's just a Morganian, like your father. Would you, I don't know, object to the idea of them being hurt in any way? Or detained? Because that's something Balthazar and Veronica are gonna have to do. We would leave your family alone if they left you alone, but that's not going to happen.

"Not only that, they are Morganians. I don't think they're too keen on the idea of you spending time with Merlinians. We're going to have to do something because they're honestly posing some sort of threat, especially your uncle; a Cruor taking blood from a human is not a good idea. Could you please tell us whether or not they would be willing to stay in their place?"

She waited for his response. She felt pleased she had made her point and nobody attempted to disrupt her, but something told her saying all those things about his family would cost a price. Dave's blush had faded over the time of her tiny speech. He was pale now, much more whiter than before. He was staring at the clock next to the television now, growing much more apprehensive as the numbers turned larger. Becky could feel some sort of fright and anxiety roll off him in waves, then rush up to greet her own body. She started to feel scared as well, but only because she could get the vibe off from Dave. Why was he looking at the clock? Did it make a difference if he knew the time? And why was he fearful all of a sudden? She hadn't felt this strong of a fear from him in all the while they confronted his family issue. Balthazar noticed this and watched the minutes pass by, evidence of time moving forward on the clock. Veronica's eyebrows knit together. She was confused as well.

"Dave? Is there something you had scheduled today?" Veronica inquired gently. He was snapped out of whatever reverie or hypnosis he had been in previously. Dave turned away from the clock. Becky saw the time. It was 11: 50. Where did Dave have to be? Becky forgot about the fear and remembered her suspicion.

"No." But he rose from the couch and inched towards the door.

"Hold on for a second, Dave." Balthazar got up too. Becky tensed. She hoped a fight wouldn't break out. "Tell me where you have to go." There was some reinforcement in the end of his words.

"Out," was Dave's simple reply.

"Your family," Becky said, something new rising in her. "Your family; you want to go out while they're out there? What if they-"

"I have to get out of here. I can't take it." He spoke with such urgency, instead of the anger Becky believed he had. Dave went right past the coat rack, thrust the door open, and sped right out. Just like that.

And nobody bothered to stop him.

"Dave!" she shouted after him. "Hold it, wait!"

She nearly tripped as she ran after him. Becky hurried through the cold winds that slapped her face and made her hair dance. He had no idea where her boyfriend was running to. She felt a little guilty about putting him on spot back there. She would have to apologize, although it wasn't that big of a deal.

"Dave!" she screamed again.

"Go away, Becky!" he yelled over his shoulder. The darkness made it hard to see him clearly. "I can't come back right now!"

"Dave!"

They were running across the sidewalk, and to the big open field. Becky remembered going here with her parents during the summers, when they would sit down and have a picnic, or buy her an ice cream cone. The memories came back and took over her head. She stopped running after him and felt sharp jabs as she saw her parents' smiling faces. Those were the old times. They didn't love each other anymore.

The night and the stars that shone reminded her why she was out here in the first place. The wide open land of green was empty of anyone except for herself and Dave. He had paused as well, and was in the middle of the field already. She took advantage of the moment and ran towards him like a insane person. Why did he stop? Why didn't he keep running away from her?

Becky dashed across the thin strands of grass. She didn't loose her footing or train of thought while she moved swiftly to him. Dave was still standing, his back turned to her. There were only a few feet setting them apart. Becky launched herself with such a force; she needed to seal the space between them. She hated the vulnerability of having Dave outside, in this large field, while the dark night sky was overhead. His family could be here. Anyone could attack at any given moment. They were like sitting ducks.

She closed the distance between her and him. She felt prideful, a tad smug. But there was no desire to gloat. She only liked it, knowing she had gotten to him first.

Becky realized how cold she was as she came to stand next to him. Dave wasn't moving. He stood still, his back erect. Becky wrapped her arms around her in an attempt to avoid the cold air. She felt her hair move lightly because of the wind. She was looking ahead, just like him. But she couldn't see a single thing in the field.

"What's going on here?" Becky demanded. Her voice was desperate, urgent like his was moments before. She felt even more vulnerable now. "Dave, why did you run away?"

She looked up at him with a weak glare on her face. His eyes were wide and in awe. He was staring straight ahead.

Becky wanted to see what he was looking at. She blinked as something moved. Whoever or whatever was far away from them. It was just a blob of light from Becky's perspective. But she felt new chills run down her spine because she felt some kind of danger. Another danger.

"Dave?" Becky asked tentatively. "What…is that?"

"Levy," he breathed.

Levy?

"What is a Levy?" Becky hissed. He finally looked down at her. His eyes were fully surprised at her outburst. Becky was too. She had gotten a sudden thrill of anger. Perhaps it was from her not knowing enough, or that vulnerability. The thrill was gone. She was alone with him in fear. Except that she wasn't exactly alone. There was a Levy.

"Levy is a Cruor," Dave whispered to her, his lips moving incredibly fast. Becky kept staring at the thin mass of silver. It was a person, but didn't look like so. How much longer till it finally came to them?

"Shouldn't we run?" Becky asked.

"No," he said firmly. "Let her come. I…I can speak to her."

"Dave. She's a Cruor-" Something dawned on her.

"I know her, yes," Dave said before she could grasp everything quickly. "And she is definitely a Cruor. Please, just let me talk with her. Don't say a word, okay?"

Not okay. No, it was not okay.

"Becky, please," Dave begged.

She opened her mouth. "Fine," she agreed in a hard voice. "But if she says something, I'm saying something back." She closed her mouth, setting her lips in a tight line.

"Okay."

The girl was now a foot away. Becky could see how young and beautiful the girl looked. She had a blond bob that was very straight. Her eye color was hard to tell. It looked just like a black pool of deep water. Becky guessed it was some type of blue. The girl was small, a few inches shorter than Becky. She had a button nose and incredibly pale skin. Even though it was freezing outside, she only had on jeans, black boots, and a white tank top that was covered mostly by a white shawl. She had a miserable sort of look about her. Becky didn't feel threatened…but something told her to stay on her guard. She didn't need another person from Dave's past.

"Hey," the girl whispered. Becky noticed too late that she meant it as a greeting. A twitch in her eye occurred when she realized it was only for Dave.

"Hi, Levy," Dave whispered back hesitantly. "Is my uncle here?"

"I was sent here," she said. Levy then flinched. "I-I didn't want to come, but…"

"It's okay," Dave said immediately. "I know."

She looked uncomfortable now. "Cyril and Rachael say you have to come home. Or come wherever they're staying at."

"I know that," he sighed. "I can't come. And I don't want to. They can start the party without me."

"They want you to come," Levy repeated, enunciating each word clearly. "I don't have any choice. I had to come and…"

"I know," Dave said yet again.

"Who is she?" Levy asked all of a sudden. She stared at Becky, blinking furiously. Becky flinched at the instant venom in the girl's tone. Dave did too.

"This is my… She's my girlfriend," Dave said reluctantly. Becky carefully watched Levy's face. "We're going out."

"So you two are a pair?" Her breath smelled like coffee, but Becky doubted Levy had stopped at Starbucks on her way before.

Dave exhaled slowly. "Yes."

She took a step back. Her eyes were filled with worry and hurt. Becky felt a small ounce of sympathy for the girl. Levy was someone who had been damaged before, in some way. You could tell by her stance and her face. She was so uncomfortable and nervous. She had been forced to come here. She was a nervous wreck. And she seemed so hurt by Dave's answer. The angered poison in Levy's tone was gone.

"You never remembered me, then?" she cried. It sounded like the melody of a wind chime. "Y-You never thought about me?"

Dave didn't say anything.

"That was the day you said goodbye," Levy said, looking at a trampled flower on the ground. "When you left me all alone. On a mountain," she added. Her features twisted.

"Yeah, I left you," Dave said. Becky was surprised by how sad his voice sounded. She began to understand his relationship with the other girl. "On a mountain. I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry too," she whispered. Then, just like that, she forgot about her feelings. Flicking a blond bang out of her eyes, Levy said in an offhand tone, "You're uncle's coming now. I can see him."

Cyril. Becky scanned the sky hurriedly. Levy smiled at her, but Becky ignored it. She cursed in her head (something she rarely did) because she couldn't see a single thing in the sky. Where was Cyril coming from? Dave was searching too. His eyes darted from place to place.

In all of the hurry, she suddenly said, "Where is Balthazar?"

Dave stopped looking. He turned to her and with wide eyes, said, "I have no idea."

Levy was the one to speak. "They're at your house," she said, her lips turning up, awfully smug. "Cyril persuaded them to stay a little bit longer, and forget about you guys for a while."

"Levy!" Dave shouted. "How could you?"

"What?" she asked. "I didn't do anything. I was only here to help…"

"Help with what?" Becky snapped. Levy appeared to be shocked she had spoken, but continued on with her gloating. However, she resumed back to her weak self.

"I-I had to help take care of that one," she stammered. Levy lifted a delicate finger and pointed to Becky.

Becky felt herself fly backwards. She landed in the sea of short, stubby grass. Her palms stung badly and her shoulder hurt as well. Becky was positive she had just been thrown back. She struggled to sit up. Her back hurt from being pushed to the ground. Becky remembered Dave and Levy. She craned her neck, looking for the two. She saw them. They were some feet away from her. Dave was trying to attack her with a plasma bolt while Levy dodged. Her hair was dancing wildly as she avoided the numerous attacks. Even in the horrible darkness cast by the night, Becky could see her expression. She was scared and confused. She didn't want to get hurt.

Becky screamed when she saw an incoming shadow of black. The shadow moved swiftly and gracefully. Dave turned his head slowly. He had heard her scream, and thought something had happened. Becky shouted at him.

"No! Keep your eyes on her!" Becky yelled. But it was too late. Her warning had been received much too late. Levy had lifted her hand, and a white plasma bolt hit the back of Dave's head. She shifted from foot to foot as the black came towards her. It stopped and Becky squinted. She tried to stand to get to Dave, but a deep pain erupted from her ankle. She cursed again. This time, it was out loud.

Cyril. The black shape was Cyril. He talked urgently with Levy first, who kept moving nervously. He stopped, then bent down and inspected Dave. He was lying on the ground. He wasn't dead, but unconscious. Becky felt some sort of relief, but that all went away when she saw Levy marching up to her. She tried to see if Dave or Cyril were there, but couldn't get a good view. Levy was getting closer.

And then she saw it. Cyril had someone in his arms, the head lolling back. Becky screamed after the Morganian. He turned a little, and smiled at her. In the night, Becky could definitely see this smile. It was a terrible one.

She was on the ground now, lying on her back. Levy was bent over her, full lips in a disturbingly pretty grimace. Becky shut her eyes tightly, knowing she was about to get a hit.

Please, please don't let me die! She prayed internally as she heard the swish of air.

She was unconscious in two seconds flat. Levy straightened her posture and barely spared the human a glance. She sniffed in disapproval, then went back to Cyril Stutler. Levy briefly wondered how he could carry Dave. Then she remembered they had magical transportation.

Cyril raised a brow at her, questioning. "Nice work there, Miss Levyette."

"T-Thank you," she stuttered. She saw Dave's face by mistake. Cyril had moved towards her, and she could see him more clearly now. His eyes were shut lightly and he was breathing. But he was pale, and she had struck him. Levy looked down in shame as her blond bangs attacked her eyesight.

"Let us go now."

"Cyril?" she asked hesitantly. He paused, looking at her. "Will your nephew be particularly angry with me?"

He laughed heartily. "Oh, you bet," he said.

Her heart sank.

Okayy... How did I do? Positive and negative feedback, suggestions, and reviews are always good for the construction of the story! Did anyone expect this? Cookies go out to anyone who guessed that it was Twilight, whether they knew from their heads, or said so in their review! Happy reading, guys!

-TracedScars