American Gothic Passion Play
byline: Anubis C. Soundwave
8. I'm not even close to being that stupid.
Zack stares at the scene in disbelief. "I know I'm dead," he says, noting the gaping, bloody hole with a missing chunk of his head, "so why is my corpse moving?"
"Eloi, Eloi!" shrieks a different voice in Zack's corpse.
"...lama sabachthani...?" says Zack, bewildered. "That's all the Aramaic anyone knows."
Zack's corpse sits up, clutching the gunshot wound in his chest. A being with an ethereal glow emerges from within Zack's corpse, still clutching a chest wound slick with golden ichor.
"T-the fuck..!?" gasps Zack as he watches his corpse resume its lifelessness.
The being spits at Zack in Aramaic, then ancient Hebrew.
"Okay," says Zack, still in shock. "I'm sure you're laying tons of Talmudic curses on me for some reason," he continues, "but my grandfather's probably in no condition to translate what the fuck you just said to me."
"Then let me simplify it for you, Zachariah," grunts the being in English, using Ephraim's voice. He gives Zack two middle fingers, unfurls a pair of wings, and flies off, in pain.
"Did...an angel just flip me off!?" balks Zack.
Gabe sighs as he lands behind Zack. "You will come with me," he says grimly.
"And who the fuck are you?" asks Zack.
"Zachary Mendelsohn," says Gabe, controlling his anger. "I am a messenger of the Adonai your grandfather has faithfully served," he continues, "and it is because of your 'Gramps' tireless intercessions on your idiotic behalf that you may give thanks to Adonai that your soul even exists to question me."
Zack sighs. "According to tradition," he says dourly, "there are over forty-eight thousand of you, and to my own knowledge," Zack continues, "only Samael's the psychopomp-and you don't look like Samael."
"I outrank Samael, and am known in my appointed role within three different religions-including your own," says Gabe.
"There are at least three archangels who answer to your-*" Zack begins to retort.
Danny punches Zack in the gut. "Gabriel, shithead," he spits. "Even I know that, and I still don't believe ninety-eight percent of any religious crap."
Zack grins crudely. "I'm a ghost now," he sneers as he rights himself, "which means-*"
Eyes glowing, Danny flares his spectral aura as he charges his hands with ecto-energy. "If you don't quit trifling with me, then I'll make you'll wish that he were smiting you," he seethes, nodding to Gabe.
Zack blinks at Danny.
"You don't know what the fuck I'm truly capable of," Danny continues, "and trust me, Zack: you don't want to learn."
"If you're such a tough guy," counters Zack, "then why didn't you ever use this power on Baxter?"
Danny snorts. "I got all of that bullshit beaten out of me freshman year," he says. "I would not waste my considerable power on delivering epic wedgies, and if I were as deranged as you, I still wouldn't have had my team blow its collective wad on demonic steroids to cheat at a football game...that you lost anyway."
Zack glowers at Danny.
"I warned you, fuckwit," says Danny. "I warned you that I would protect my friends, and I warned you that Asmodeus and Moloch were both just fucking with you because you wasted their time. I warned you that Dash would beat you," he continues, "regardless of your rented power."
Gabe studies both Danny and Zack.
"Shut the fuck up," mutters Zack.
"You know it's true! And I'm not the only one who has tried to warn you," Danny continues.
"Look: just because your middle name is 'Daniel' doesn't make you a fucking prophet," counters Zack.
"I don't need to be a damned prophet," says Danny. "I just need to have a brain cell functioning in my skull that's not slaved to the nerves in my cock."
"Does it matter at this point?" says Zack tiredly, grimacing as he turns to Gabe. "I'm dead. I've obviously sinned," he continues to Gabe. "I have no interest in groveling before the Almighty, so please take me to hell."
Gabe smiles at Zack a moment, then laughs ruefully.
"I know," says Zack. "I'm a sick, sad joke of a man: from the moment I was forced into my mom's cunt. I wonder what HaShem's grand master plan was for me," he sneers.
Gabe sighs. "The only sad joke is that you deviated so far from His plan because of your choice to seek willful blindness and oblivion," he says. "As a result, you'll never know."
Zack stares at Gabe, confused.
"He'll do that sometimes," says Danny quizzically.
"Not a single human on this earth is immune to your flaws, Zack," says Gabe, briefly levelling his scowl at Danny before returning his glare to Zack. "You all have a tendency to 'Leeroy Jenkins' the Master's plans straight to hell."
"Maybe he ought to make his plans clear," snorts Danny.
"Maybe He ought to have convinced my mom that it was okay for her to use Plan B," adds Zack.
"Now the truth is out: your wrath with the Master for the events that brought about your birth," says Gabe.
"No," says Danny. "Despite how he acts, I think Zack has too much respect for his cultural deity to be that dense. He's angry that his mom distanced herself from him when he was a baby," he continues, "and has taken out this wrath on every female who wasn't his grandmother."
Zack winces.
"Unluckily for you," says Danny, "you tried to fuck with the wrong girl-your own cousin, by the way-and ultimately you got your brains blown out for your trouble."
Zack shrugs.
"Don't you want to know who did it?" grins Danny.
"What's the point?" asks Zack.
"It wasn't a fucking ghost, dude," says Grady as he appears. "I would have brought an AK-47 and a couple of tommy guns to make sure there wasn't anything for your grandfather to bury."
Zack snorts. "You watched way too many cartoons, Grady," he mutters.
"What are you doing here?" balks Danny.
"I'm about ready to dance a fucking Irish jig!" grins Grady gleefully. "You see: I can rest. Even if I'm damned to hell, I can burn happily," he continues, "knowing that when the fallout from all the shit your stupid team has done is sorted out, the Elmerton High Dire Wolves are done! Thus, I die fulfilled."
"You really know how to hold a grudge, don't you?" says Zack quizzically.
"You, Zacker-fucker, are the professor emeritus of the god-damned master class," counters Grady. "You see: I saw you seething with rage when I caught Manson fooling around with Baxter in the locker room...and you had your schlong out, you sick fuck. You just ran off back to your locker room when you heard the rest of my teammates."
"Grady, you failed to tell me this...why?" asks Danny.
"Fenton, dude: that was Manson's business," says Grady.
"I'm talking about Zack's jealousy-fueled rage turning into a white-hot desire to see Dash Baxter die," says Danny.
"I wasn't aware that I had to spell everything out for you," spits Grady. "Shit, this isn't Superfriends! Lex Luthor stopped using Goodyear blimps to openly broadcast his evil plans when I was five years old."
"You probably still think mice have coffee tables made out of spools of thread," snorts Danny.
"Seriously, Fenton: we both cut our big kid teeth on Batman: the Animated Series," continues Grady dryly.
"Okay: I admit that I didn't really take you seriously, Grady," says Danny, pouting. "That's one of the reasons I didn't realize that Dash wasn't trying to be an ass when he'd asked for my help with Randy."
"Why wouldn't you have taken me seriously?" asks Grady.
"Because all you 'student athletes' can seem to think about for longer than two minutes is fucking sports!" spits Danny. "Hell, Zack's probably the smartest one out of the three of you-at least he is probably kicking himself now for not following his first instinct and simply using his demon-given powers to take what he'd wanted."
"Actually, Danny," counters Zack, "one of the conditions of my power is that I couldn't use it to directly seduce Sam until I killed Dash."
"You do realize, though," says Danny, touching his chin, "that Asmodeus fucked you over."
"He works for the devil," scoffs Zack. "Guess I should have read the fine print."
Gabe sighs.
"Who's the third 'clueless jock' in your mind, Fenton?" asks Grady.
"Him!" bellows Danny, pointing towards a morose Dash as he stares at Zack's chalk outline. "He's bemoaning your loss as a waste of good NFL talent!"
"That's legit," counters Grady. "Zack's top-tier, NFL-grade material. Half of our locker room grumbling was us whining to Coach that we should try to draft him into the Ravens to replace Urlacher."
"Eisinger would have killed Tetslaff in her sleep," counters Zack. "That guy would have cut off his nuts to keep me playing football for Elmerton."
Danny sighs. "Football?" he says, flabbergasted. "Zack: do you or Dash even realize how much power you idiots have!? Dictators would sacrifice their firstborn to have a fraction of your sway over others. And Asmodeus would have been less likely to stiff them, too."
"Dash knows, a bit," says Grady, thoughtful. "He always joked about how scary it was that most adults would bend over backwards to follow his whims."
Danny and Zack study Grady.
"He'd told me once that when he was five, he convinced his granddad to give him a crew cut," Grady continues. "As I didn't believe Dash, I'd asked Mr. Baxter, and the old bastard had laid out Dash's logic, and knowingly allowed a five-year old to manipulate him: Dash had basically appealed to his ego."
Danny blinks in disbelief.
"To be fair, all Dash had to do was point to an old black-and-white photo of the old man when he was five and wearing that Donald Duck outfit," snorts Grady, "then ask him if he wanted Dash to endure the kind of schoolyard shame he must have endured."
"It's called a fauntleroy," says Zack, "and that's Donald's middle name."
Danny touches his chin. "Yeah: Sam told me that you loved Disney movies," he says, "which disqualified you from being a true goth."
"Never mind how fucking dark Disney movies could get," says Zack. "Hell, my favorite movie was about a lion cub whose uncle-in violation of nature-conspired with hyenas to get the cub run over by a stampeding horde of wildebeests."
"And you sympathized with the uncle, didn't you?" asks Danny.
"Look, it wasn't Scar's fault that he lost the biological lotto," mutters Zack. "Fucker was playing with the hand he was dealt. We live in a fucked world."
"It's our own fault," says Danny quietly.
Zack and Grady stare at Danny, while Gabe strokes his chin.
"Zack," continues Danny. "Has it ever occurred to you that Ephraim Mendelsohn was a kid at some point? That maybe he might have some insight on whatever problems you were having?"
"I don't think that's possible," says Zack, frowning. "That man is probably one of the most morally-upright human beings to walk this earth. Frankly, if you told me he shot me, I would have understood."
"He loved you, you moron!" shout Danny and Gabe in unison; this surprises Gabe.
Danny blinks at Gabe.
"You...and Joel...were more than son and grandson to him," continues Gabe. "You were his friends. You made him laugh and smile."
"Gramps had threatened to kill me at one point," says Zack after a moment.
"I'm thinking that has less to do with your stupidity," says Danny, "and more to do with your grandfather's desire to spite Eisinger. Seriously: was this jackass asleep during the 'how to mold and shape young minds' class?"
"Eisinger didn't do anything wrong," counters Zack.
"He let you and the rest of your team run wild," says Grady. "I know I'm going to get slugged for this, but fuck it: I'm already dead because of you."
Zack scowls at Grady.
"Look at Eisinger," demands Grady. "What does he really think of you?"
Danny, the two ghost jocks, and Gabe all look down on Ephraim, Covington, and Eisinger.
"How does revenge feel, Mr. Covington?" asks Ephraim quietly.
Covington blinks at Ephraim. "I don't understand," he says.
"My grandson wounded your daughter: drove her to kill herself," Ephraim continues.
"Frankly, Mr. Mendelsohn," says Covington, "my revenge would have been if he had lived. Ideally: he would have changed as a person, and matured. Perhaps married and started a family. Brought a daughter into the world that he loved with all of his heart-only for some selfish jackass to do to his young love what he did to Gwen. That would be revenge...that I would not even wish on him."
"'...they that plow iniquity, and sow wickedness, reap the same'," says Ephraim. "That is my only solace," he continues, glaring at Eisinger, who stares at his termination letter.
"My job-until tonight-was to coach football," says Eisinger peevishly, "not to be a pillar of moral rectitude."
"Even in that basic respect," says Ephraim dourly, "you were a shitty football coach."
"W-what..!?" sputters Eisinger.
"Football players don't threaten the referrees or hurl them into the bleachers," continues Ephraim.
"Ephraim: I know you're upset, and looking for someone to blame," sneers Eisinger, "but I ain't your guy."
"I'm well-aware that you never gave a fuck about my grandson or the other young men in the Dire Wolves: whose lives will soon be destroyed," says Ephraim. "You just wanted to win football games."
"Again: that was my job," spits Eisinger. "It's what I was paid to do."
"Overpaid if you ask me," counters Covington. "But then what do I know, right? I'm just an academic with a rod up my ass." Covington stands and leaves.
"All you can do is bemoan the death of that blockheaded sociopath," says Eisinger, "which was inevitable. It was just a question of when and how, not if."
"All that I can consider," says Ephraim, a look of cold anger and grief in his eyes, "is how much misery I could have avoided had I followed Zachary's example: obeyed my dark impulse to snap your neck in two when you dared to darken my house during that shabbat."
"How would you have then resolved Zack's poorly-concealed desire to rut with his cousin?" says Eisinger.
"By girding my loins and admitting my own struggles from my youth to him," says Ephraim, now calm.
"Who in your family would you ever have wanted to fuck!?" balks Eisinger.
Ephraim gives Eisinger a crude grin. "I'll let you ponder that," he says as he stands, approaching Miles.
At his apartment, Fred pulls out the bullet from the ethereal creature's chest, as Moloch grimaces.
"Shit, Asmodeus," balks Fred, staring at the bullet. "What were you shot with?"
"An anti-ghost bullet," says Asmodeus, slowly sitting, "which burns like the fires of hell."
Moloch studies Asmodeus.
"Freidrich," continues Asmodeus, "you have my thanks for removing that damned thing. I owe you a favor in return."
"Thank you," says Fred. "I'll take a rain check on that for now, if that's okay," he adds with a canny smile.
Asmodeus blinks at Fred.
"As you know," Fred continues, "I'm from a clan of ghost fanatics, and unlike Zack, I also know my shit when it comes to other supernatural arcana. Consequently," he adds, "I want to have my ducks in a row when I cash my rain check; dealing with you can be problematic at best if I'm not careful."
"Makes you wish you hadn't killed Lydia, doesn't it?" grins Asmodeus crudely.
Fred's eyes widen in horror.
"Not to worry, Freddie," says Asmodeus. "Your penalty isn't for me to mete out to you, but my master."
"Are you so sure of that?" asks Moloch tersely. "Your master is the one who ordered you to stay with Zack."
"Actually, I volunteered to take that damned bullet to atone for the fact that I let you fuck that kid to death to fulfill your retarded double-peneteration fantasies!" fumes Asmodeus. "Do you now understand why you should just watch hentai when you want that itch scratched!?"
"I should have demanded one of the Dire Wolves' special teams guys to take it in the ass with this," grins Moloch crudely, brandishing a rifle.
"You humans are sick fucks, you know that?" says Asmodeus to Fred, an exasperated expression on his face. "That's why Luci turned: I don't even blame him."
Fred blinks. "Only the Japanese," he says quizzically. "Even the NRA isn't that gun-crazy."
"Hopefully," says Moloch, "you'll join Lucifer, and renounce the Creator."
Asmodeus sighs. "No. As sick as humans are in the head," he says, "they don't want to supplant the Master. Luci does," Asmodeus continues, "and as I told you back then: I couldn't-and won't-back what he's doing."
"You're insane is what you are," says Moloch.
"Human insanity gave the world Super Mario Brothers: a divinely-inspired work of art," says Asmodeus, pulling out a Nintendo DS. "When Luci comes up with anything half as cool," he continues, "then he, Iblis, and Moloch can give me a call."
Gabe sighs, then speaks to Asmodeus in Hebrew.
Asmodeus stands to attention and salutes Gabe.
Moloch glowers at Gabe, speaks curtly to Gabe in Hebrew, then vanishes.
"Hallelujah," says Asmodeus. "I'm released from 'Satan duty'."
Fred studies Asmodeus. "Wonder who 'Job' was supposed to be this go-round?" he asks quizzically.
"Oh, no," grins Asmodeus. "Part of the rules is that we never tell you who's being tested."
"You may go back to your regular tasks now," says Gabe, smiling as he shakes his head at Asmodeus.
"Gladly, commander," says Asmodeus, quickly assuming the form of Dash as he runs his fingers through his hair.
Dash studies a pair of silver rings, one with a square-cut red gem and the other with a dark indigo stone.
Sam stirs, sitting up as she embraces Dash; she notes the rings.
"Amber gave me these months ago, when she left for college," says Dash. "She said she wanted a clean break," he adds, a sad yet thoughtful expression on his face.
Sam touches her chin a moment; her eyes widen with realization. "Amber was Tim's girlfriend," she says.
"Since the third grade, when you think about it," says Dash. "She and Grady were friends since preschool." He chuckles. "I remember that Amber was mad at Grady after that thing during our freshman year," Dash continues, "and she was hitting on me. I stayed far away."
"Why?" wonders Sam.
"Grady was already pissed about having to drive a shitty car because his grandpa did not take Grady's absence from that game well at all-mostly because Grady lied to him," says Dash. "Grandpas can handle a lot of stupid shit from us," he continues, "but they don't want to be lied to. At all. My grandpa said that was the only reason he let me talk him into giving me the crew-cut I wanted back in kindergarten."
"Being honest is a worthwhile trait in a grandson," says Sam.
"It can lead to arguments, though," says Dash, "because my grandpa can be a selfish shithead."
"Oh, yes: how dare Miles Baxter be honestly relieved that his only grandson and partial-namesake was alive and well?" scoffs Sam.
"It ended up coming out at Grady's funeral anyway," says Dash. "Old Man Grady took that rather well."
"They were friends for too long, I suppose," muses Sam.
"Yeah..." Dash rubs Sam's bare shoulder, then gently kisses her forehead. "Did you know that Grady and Amber were going to marry when they graduated high school?"
Sam blinks at Dash.
"They had it all planned out," continues Dash, looking at the two rings. "These rings are the same dopey virgin 'promise rings' they got at one of those church meetings, but they decided that the promise would be between each other. They did it during freshman year."
"And...?" asks Sam.
"I had to call Amber out on it after a while," grins Dash. "Pointed out that she'd never taken her ring off...then I revealed that I stole it. She swore at me for a solid fifteen minutes."
"That's it?" snorts Sam. "You're worth at least an hour."
"She could have gone for thirty, but Grady beat the fuck out of me," says Dash. "To her credit, though," he continues, "Amber didn't take her ring back from him until he grovelled properly-she wanted to make sure I wasn't part of some plan of his."
Sam stares at Dash.
"Grady would have tried a hero ploy sooner or later-whether I was in on it or not," says Dash.
Sam touches her chin. "Of course, you could have been the pawn in Amber's ploy to make Grady more sincere and contrite," she says wryly.
Dash blinks. "In that case: Amber's a bitch, and Grady was the son-of-a-bitch she was made for," he says ruefully.
Sam smiles gently, stroking Dash's cheek as she gazes into his eyes. "Subtlety has never been your strong suit," she says.
"If that's the case," says Dash, returning the gaze with a cocky grin, "then just say 'yes' and make me the happiest man alive."
"Dash...are we ready...?" asks Sam.
"No," says Dash. "It's just too late for me to demand my heart and soul back."
"Likewise," says Sam. "If we're soulmates," she continues, "then we should set each other free."
"To do what?" asks Dash. "To go where?"
"Anything you wish," says Sam, "and anywhere you want."
"I want to be with you," says Dash. "But...you still have to sort out your shit with Danny Fenton," he adds. "I'm not even close to being that stupid."
"I won't deny it," says Sam, "though I haven't had sex with Danny once. Then again," she adds with a smirk, "that's because some other bitch beat me to him."
Dash touches Sam's chin. "You're not angry about it," he says.
"No offense," says Sam, "but I'm just relieved Danny didn't blow his wad inside Paulina...that year. Perdie brought out the best she had."
Dash chuckles. "You know Gray had-and still has-raging needs," he says. "Fenton had to take care of her."
"I was trying not to mention her by name," says Sam, touching Dash's collarbone.
"Sammy," says Dash, "don't say 'good-bye'." He hands Sam the indigo ring, then kisses her.
Sam breaks the kiss. "I'll only say: 'so long'," she says. She resumes the kiss as Dash pulls her into an embrace.
"Are you sure?" Jack asks Jeremy.
Jeremy sighs as he watches Pamela drive off in the family sedan. "It's a separation. I can't blame her, you know."
"If it weren't for Danny, I'd be in your shoes, man," says Jack, "because I would've done the same thing." He takes out a wallet and presents a photo of Jazz as a toddler. "Maddie would have had a hard time telling me not to do everything in my power to protect her."
"Pam knows that. The fact that Sammy looks like my mom every year she grows doesn't help matters," says Jeremy. "Probably gave Uncle Ephraim a migraine, too."
"It must be hell for him," says Jack, thoughtfully, "losing family like this."
"He tried to warn me," says Jeremy. "But-much like Zack," he adds ruefully, "I didn't want to listen."
Jack studies Jeremy.
"I had already resolved to kill Zack if he dared to harm Sam," continues Jeremy. "I couldn't allow him another chance to try again."
"It's for the best," says Jack. "At least there's a body for everyone to bury."
Jeremy blinks.
"If you-with your shitty Hoss Sokol cosplay-hadn't already shot Zack, then the Baxters would have turned him into Swiss cheese," snorts Jack. "I never imagined Drew as the type of man who would pack a Glock, you know?"
"'Lindsay and I have over seventeen years' worth of temporal, financial, physical, and emotional investment in Dash'," muses Jeremy, "'and I won't let anyone take him from us or our family.' I could never beat that man when it comes to logic."
"That's why we don't let him DM anymore," grins Jack. His smile fades as he presents his hand. "I'll need those back."
Jeremy blinks, then hands Jack a satchel.
Jack pours out the satchel's contents: a pile of bullets with faintly-glowing green etch-marks. "I'm just glad that you're a good shot," he says, "because these bullets were not meant for Zack. Plain old hollow-points would have done the job."
Jeremy chuckles. "Should've bummed them off Hans or Gunther, I guess," he says. He trembles, then drops to his haunches, weeping.
Two months pass.
Danny, Sam, Tucker, and Dani meet atop Casper High's roof, near the Phantom Signal.
"Today's the big day," grins Danny.
Sam nods. "Yeah," she says. "He'll make a big entrance any minute now."
"Speak of the devil," says Tucker, noting a ghostly figure descending in a gray-white cloak.
"Don't say that," groans Dani as her ghost sense triggers. "You know it just encourages Cheesehead."
Danny trembles as his ghost sense fires off.
The figure lands, then lowers the hood of the cloak...
Dani blinks at the ghost. "Who the fuck is this tattoo lady?" she balks.
"Lydia...?" wonders Danny.
"I guess you're working for Vlad now," says Tucker.
Lydia nods.
"To be fair," shrugs Dani, "Freakshow did 'divorce' her."
"A foolish-and fatal-mistake on his part," says Vlad, appearing as Plasmius. "He underestimated her," he continues, "and paid the price."
"Where is Freakshow?" demands Danny.
Lydia places her hands over her left breast.
Sam stares at Lydia. "He's a tattoo?" she wonders aloud.
Lydia nods.
"Don't you dare to judge her," says Vlad. "'Freddy' tried to kill her," he continues, "but my cohorts were able to retrieve her in time. I saved her afterlife, as it were."
"It's a better fate than he deserves, in my opinion," grins Dash, smirking at Danny.
"You're definitely not Dash," says Danny.
"You're right, Phan-toad," sneers Dash, baring his chest. "I'm sure you can confirm," he says to Sam.
"I'll simply say that Dash doesn't have a fucking keloid scar on his chest," scowls Sam.
"Where's your buddy Moloch?" asks Danny tersely.
"Getting the riot act from Luci," shrugs 'Dash'.
"Why impersonate Dash?" asks Tucker.
"Because my true form doesn't really reflect my cosmic role," says 'Dash', "as 'he who inflames the fires of passion'."
"That," says Danny dourly, "and you're still trying to troll me... Asmodeus."
Asmodeus, still in his form as Dash, chuckles. "While fucking with you is indeed fun," he says, "I have to assume forms that make sense to you so that I'm not constantly prefacing everything I say with 'fear not'."
"Only angels say that..." says Sam.
Asmodeus nods. "Unlike Gabriel, most of us don't have the patience for that shit," he says.
"Most of you are the divine inspirations for the wet dreams in the subconscious of H. P. Lovecraft," quips Sam. "That's why all of us 'God-wrestlers' are kind of nuts."
Asmodeus laughs. "There's nothing more sexy than a girl with a sense of humor," he says. "Still, I'll leave before Vlad complains that I'm ruining his grand reunion." Rolling his eyes, Asmodeus vanishes.
Vlad sighs. "It's clear that you've been quite busy while I was away, Daniel," he says, "and that you've attracted the interest of very powerful creatures."
"I guess," says Danny.
"We're ready for whatever you're going to throw at us, Cheesehead," adds Dani, "so bring it."
Vlad smiles thinly at Danielle. "It will be brought upon you all, my dear," he says, "at a time of my choosing."
Danny gives Vlad a confident smirk. "After the past two years worth of idiotic challenges," he says, "we're looking forward to matching wits with you again."
"Then I shall not disappoint you, young adversary. Let's go, Lydia," says Vlad, ascending into the air. Lydia joins Vlad; they both vanish.
Sam drops to her knees. "Have I become so broken that it doesn't even surprise me...?" she asks.
"That I'm not blowing smoke up Vlad's ass?" grins Danny. "I meant every fucking word. Carlisle would have been laughed off the set of Scooby-Doo," he continues, "and as for your late cousin and his minions...the Ravens would have made better adversaries."
"That's mostly because Dash is a better DM," notes Tucker.
"Let's face it," says Danny. "The only worthy opponent we had outside of our usual suspects was my ancestor."
"We'll have to bring our A-game from this point forward," says Dani.
"Then let's get moving," says Tucker, "before Elgin misses us." He leaves the roof with Dani.
Sam stands, then sighs.
"Dash can give you something I can't," says Danny after a moment.
"What?" balks Sam.
"He can devote himself to you," continues Danny.
"I know," says Sam. "It's because of that," she continues, "that I have to let him go."
"You could...let me go," says Danny.
"And you could just tell Valerie the truth about yourself," says Sam curtly.
Danny stares at Sam.
"She'll suspect the truth sooner or later-if she doesn't already," Sam continues.
"Until I'm sure that she won't kill me-at least until after I expose Vlad to her for what he really is," says Danny, "it would be stupid to reveal the truth to her."
Sam studies Danny coolly.
"That's my excuse," says Danny, returning Sam's cool gaze. "What's yours?" With that, Danny takes to the sky.
Sam trembles, rubbing her arms; she leaves the roof.
THE END
AN: Apologies for the very long delay on this sequel to SEVEN YEAR JOCK ITCH. I had the story about ready (since 2018), but wanted to make sure it wasn't missing anything before I posted it.
I look forward to all questions and comments in the reviews.
Until next time.
acsound