TRIGGER WARNING - This chapter contains somewhat graphic episodes of PTSD and self-harm. Blake is not in a good place, mentally.
In the pitch black of the bedroom, inky wisps of even greater darkness rose from the floor, forming the shape of a woman pulling herself out from the void and collapsing on her hands and knees. Blake allowed the shadows to fall away from her, and the ghostly black claws retreated from her body with the reluctance of leaving a lover's embrace.
She stayed there for a moment, trying to gather her strength. Liquid light pushed itself through her veins, incandescent, slow to progress, and agonizing. It oozed from her chest and splattered on the cream rug beneath her, a mix of clear glowing purple and the thick, stygian substance that was Blake's own blood. The pain was radiating through her entire torso and even up her throat, and the other hole in her shoulder made it feel like her arm was being repeatedly stabbed by hundreds of large needles.
She'd have to acquire another rug.
Fuck Aurora. Blake couldn't even drag herself onto her bed. Instead, she rolled over onto her back there on the same rug her bed was on, palms facing upwards, and closed her eyes. She was motionless as stone as she focused the energy in her body, redirecting the flow of power in her veins towards the angry, gaping, still-glowing hole in her chest. The bullet had missed her heart. It wouldn't have killed her, either, but she would have spent days out of commission trying to heal that – and being absolutely miserable in the process because of not just being dead. As it was, these two wounds would take the rest of the night and most of the morning to heal, and Blake couldn't do anything else except lay there and focus on that.
It was her second taste of Aurora's new technology. The first time, it was Yang who had shot her in the calf with it – but the bullet had been smaller, the dosage less significant. It had still hurt like hell. Blake didn't know how new, exactly, the UV-C bullets were, but she hadn't yet heard of them before locking herself away from the world. Her best guess was that Aurora had finished developing and rolling out the technology during her absence. Because of course they had.
She had been able to heal a lot quicker from the hole in her leg by drinking Yang's blood, though. That hadn't changed.
And you practically killed her then, too.
Blake wasn't upset with Operative Akouo for this. The enforcer was just doing her job, after all. If anything, Blake was grateful. The shots had knocked her out of her frenzy, saving Yang's life. That was the most important part, the one Blake chose to keep in mind while she suffered and fought against the liquid light still infecting her wounds, stitching herself back together from the inside out. Yang was safe. For now.
Despite this relief, if Blake wasn't upset with Akouo, she certainly was still frustrated with her partner – because going up against another ancient vampire who would be actively trying to kill them was suicide for the enforcers. And Blake didn't know where that ancient was hiding, which made things a lot worse. She feared that if Yang and company found the coven and their leader – who was evidently the ancient's protégée – and did manage to dispose of them, then the ancient would come after them with a vengeance. And, sure, the enforcers had fancy, new, and debilitating technology against vampires now, but it still required said vampires to be taken by surprise or restrained somehow…and that was an entirely different challenge.
But if it was just Blake who took care of the issue, then it would be just Blake who the other ancient would come after. That would already avoid painting a target on Yang's back. Except a fight to the death between two ancient vampires was…disastrous for everything and everyone in the vicinity. And Blake didn't want Yang anywhere near that. Above all else, Blake's only source of food had to be kept safe.
Which meant that, so long as Yang was still looking into the case and getting closer and closer to discovering what Blake had already, Blake's hands were tied. The only thing she could keep trying to do was convince Yang to stop and leave.
But as Blake laid there in the heavy silence, a ringing slowly started in her ears, and there was pressure forming against her mind. Her muscles tensed and she clenched her teeth – bits and pieces of memories flashed behind her eyelids, moments of violence and gory cravings, and suddenly she felt him as if he were lying right there with her, arms wrapped around her body, fingers digging into her skin and lips pressed to her ear so hard she felt his teeth. A shudder rippled down her spine.
Command her. She is nothing.
Blake's subconscious could summon his voice as if she had heard it just moments prior. It was a deep, sinister voice she had obeyed for centuries, a voice that still tempted the killer in her, whispering how perfect in her ravaging she was and urging her to take, and take, and take…
She choked on a sob, raising her hand to her wounded shoulder, and, in her desperation to shut him out, Blake plunged her index and thumb into the bullet hole. The pain shot up to her temple, sharp and hot, and she cried out, but she didn't stop pushing into her flesh until she found the round lodged in her humerus. Her whole body trembled, and the silver stung her fingertips, but at least she couldn't feel him anymore, couldn't hear him anymore. Blake pried the bullet out of her arm and let it drop on the carpet beside her with a low, muted thud. She lowered her shaking hand.
Slowly, like the tide retreating to the ocean, the ringing and pressure abated in gentle waves, and despite the torment she was in, she was able to relax her muscles. She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh, relieved to only be dealing with the physical agony. It was almost comforting now. Her mind was her own like this.
Blake refused to command Yang. It was as simple as that. In a past long ago, during a time when Blake's empathy had been gnawed to the bone and picked clean, and somebody else's bidding was all that mattered to her, she had used thralls – but no more. She was free to be the kind of monster she wanted to be, and if her wretched existence had to continue, then she wouldn't abuse her own power.
Even if it meant arguing and fighting with stubborn and stupid enforcers.
Even if it meant allowing them to continue existing at all.
But she couldn't really blame Aurora's dogs for being so loyal. They thought they were making the world a better place. And, oh, Blake understood that notion all the way down to the depths of her damned soul, understood the desire to be a cataclysm of lasting change for good, but it was all so fucking useless.
History was inevitable. A cycle of never-ending repetition like the phases of the moon.
But maybe this had nothing to do with who had the moral high ground. Maybe the enforcers were making a difference, maybe they weren't. It didn't matter, in the end.
What mattered was for Blake to do everything in her power to avoid killing mortals ever again. Saving the world from herself.
It was nearing noon when Blake finally finished healing. The process was the closest to sleep she had ever gotten, this focused trance, except it wasn't relaxing or pleasant – but that was nothing new. She opened her eyes. It was still very dark in the room thanks to the blackout curtains, but Blake could see fine. She slowly sat up, passing her hand through her hair. Almost immediately, she felt a familiar ache in her stomach as well as the dryness of her throat.
She was thirsty. Of course she was. Using that much energy to heal without drinking at the same time to expedite the progress was bound to have that effect. Except Yang wouldn't be expecting her to need to feed so soon. It hadn't even been a week yet.
Blake's fingers dug into her skull, pushing down her felid ears. She had no right to ask Yang for a drink earlier than normal, let alone at all,especially not after attacking her. It would be presumptuous to assume their arrangement wasn't null after that.
What do I do, what do I do?
Feeding from regular humans wouldn't quench her thirst anymore. She supposed she could try, but she would have to go out and find a willing victim. Her previous ones were either dead or too old now to withstand the blood loss. And if it doesn't help your thirst anyway? Then what?
There was a kind of wicked irony in being so powerful yet also completely at the mercy of her own basic need. She was terrified of it. She hated it so much – she always had. Losing control and endangering people, killing people –
Stop thinking about it. You'll make it worse.
To help redirect her mind before she panicked – or, worse, before she triggered her own frenzy – Blake decided she needed a bath and a change of clothes. She was about to stand up, but then she saw the bullet she had removed from her arm and discarded on the rug next to her. She picked it up, ignoring the sting, and examined it more closely.
The encasing was silver, but she could see where the sides had melted to release the UV-C. The bullet still glowed purple slightly where traces of the liquid light remained. Blake arched her eyebrows. She knew who would be interested in learning more about this technology, if he wasn't already aware of it. His boss, too. Blake would have to bring this to Cryolife first, though.
She finally stood up from the floor, keeping the bullet in her hand, and turned the corner out of her bedroom area, heading for the bathroom, where she slid two fingers upwards just a bit on the switch to finally turn on a light, however dimly.
Blake caught her reflection in the mirror. She put the bullet on the counter and rested her hands on the surface for a moment, glaring at herself. The left side of her face had a smattering of dark, dried blood, and the sleeve and collar of her white bomber were ruined. More dried blood all over her chest, but the wound was gone. Her irises were already halfway consumed by crimson, an irritating reminder that she was thirsty. She looked like a homicidal madwoman who had just returned from committing murder. Except it usually wasn't her own blood that she was covered in, so this was a twisted welcome of something different for a change.
She washed off the stains at the sink, watching the unclean water disappear down the drain, and flashes of a memory assailed her mind – herself, staring at her distorted reflection on the lake, plunging her hands in and tainting the water red. Every day she returned, splashing water on her face, and blood dribbled back into the lake instead. She could never fully wash it away. At some point, she had stopped trying.
After she wiped off what she could without succumbing to the urge to tear out chunks of her own skin at the same time, Blake drew her bath, forcing the memory away. Now wasn't the time to spiral.
She had a shower, too, but she hadn't used it yet. It was possible she never would. Blake had tried this invention by humans a few times in the past, but she didn't like how easily the water got in her felid ears. It was faster, yes, but ultimately unnecessary. Vampires didn't sweat or get dirty because of their own bodies. They could start smelling like iron, like a predator, if they didn't wash, and Blake had encountered some who had even begun to smell like death – not the putrid scent of decay, but more like a sickening sweetness – and Blake refused to embrace that.
She removed her clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor for now, and stepped into the in-ground basin that was her bath, big enough for about two other people. The water was scalding, but Blake couldn't get burned like this. She sighed as she sunk all the way up to her chin, resting against the wall of the basin, and closed her eyes. This was another reason why she preferred baths by far, or even just washing herself in general every two days. Although she couldn't be burned by the hot water, immersing herself in it for a time still elevated her body temperature.
It made her feel just a bit more mortal. She could almost forget, just for a little while, that she was the very origin for so many scary stories about the dark.
And what would poor, innocent mortal Blake Belladonna think if she saw you now, Nightshade?
She imagined her, so impossibly long ago now, malnourished, beaten, and exhausted, but having the courage to stare her oppressors in the face daily and, eventually, even the strength to rise and say, No, enough, this isn't right or fair. That Blake – that Blake would take one look at herself now, and the answer was simple. She'd be fucking horrified.
Frustrated, Blake pushed the terrible image away and finished washing. She stayed in the water until it started turning cool, and then got out, letting the water drain. As she was drying herself off with her towel, she heard her scroll vibrate from where she had left it in her pants' back pocket on the floor. Here we go, then. Blake grabbed it, noticing that she had three other messages from different people. She only checked the most recent sender.
It was Coco.
Your enforcer friends are becoming a problem. Get Aurora OUT of here. They aren't helping.
Blake made a face, immediately exasperated. She didn't bother replying. If Coco really needed her help, there were better ways of formulating the request. Blake did not take orders from anyone anymore, especially not from a fledgling who had clearly but unwisely gotten bolder during the ancient's absence.
Regardless, there was something more urgent that required Blake's attention today, two different people she needed to pay a little visit to. She finished drying herself and then applied cream to her body – it was in the small things that she could feel a hint more normal. Once done, Blake picked up her dirty clothes, putting the ruined bomber and tank top in the garbage and the jeans straight into the washing machine, and then made her way back to her bedroom to pick out a new set of clothes. She slipped into a tight black dress that hugged her neck and cut off at the middle of her thighs, and slid a loose, long and buttonless white blazer overtop. She brushed her hair and passed her hand through it a few times with styling product, but didn't dry it, finalizing her outfit with smokey eyes and high heels.
The people she was visiting were business-oriented, and the role she played in their life demanded that she present herself a certain way. It was of her own volition, naturally, but people were fickle and often just the idea of power could move mountains. So, satisfied with her appearance, she shut the lights off and drew the darkness into her arms until it engulfed her completely – and vanished.
The shadows of Vale guided her, a specter passing through the city undetected, swift and pulling the breath out of passersby like a sudden change in wind pressure. She located her target quickly, finding him in his office on the third floor of the mansion he lived in. Blake's presence began manifesting in a corner of the room facing the door, the shadows darkening, and she opened her eyes, staring at him from the lightless area. He was filing through some documents at his desk, unaware of her arrival.
These fifty years could have been kinder to him. A man in his late seventies now, his movements were slower, his frame frailer and beginning to hunch. He still dressed sharply and took care of his appearance well, but the wrinkles couldn't lie. Blake almost pitied him – and, by accident, she forgot to stop breathing.
The smell of his blood was weaker, less filled with vitality, but the scent still made a pang of thirst wrack her stomach and throat, and she clenched her teeth. She was fine. It wasn't anything she hadn't dealt with before.
It still soured her mood, though.
Blake reached for the shadows at the bottom of the window behind the man and pulled them upwards so that they slowly created a veil of darkness, blocking out the rainy day and any kind of view into the office.
Noticing the unnaturally dimming light, the man turned, saw what was happening behind him, and froze. Blake heard his heartbeat accelerate, and she reveled in it. She could shut off her ability to smell, but nothing could be done about her hearing – and hearing a frantic heart excited her predatory instincts. Being hungry amplified the feeling, sharpening her vision until every edge was a blade, every speck of dust outlining itself so clearly she could count them, and making everything in her surroundings appear to slow down by a fraction when her internal clock sped up.
The man swallowed with difficulty, and Blake locked onto his throat bobbing. No. She snapped her attention back to his face, the shape of her solidifying with her hardening grasp over her impulses to attack. He put his hands on his desk to steady himself. "Nightshade…" he whispered, almost in a rasp.
Blake moved into the office space, a cloud of black with red and gold eyes, and then let the shadows fall away from her form just as she put her hand on the door and gently pushed it shut. And locked it. She set her gaze on her host and offered him a tight smile. "Hello, Edrick. I hope this isn't an inconvenient time for you."
Edrick Beryl was shaking. Blake registered a good amount of fear, but she suspected he was also shocked. He lowered himself down onto his chair slowly, eyes wide. "Nightshade…you're… You're alive."
She acquiesced with a tilt of her head. "Yes. I am."
"But…" Edrick raised his hands helplessly for a moment, looking a mix between distressed and thoroughly confused. "You stopped visiting. It has been over fifty years." He nervously checked her for any signs of upset, adding quickly, "Not that you owe anyone any explanations or visits, of course."
"No. I don't. Tell me what happened."
His shoulders tensed. "After two years, your, ah…attorney contacted me, saying your assets were frozen due to a lack of activity…" He hesitated, and Blake nodded for him to continue. He hurried on. "I delayed for as long as I could, but the transfer had to be settled. And then the years kept coming with still no signs of life from you, despite several efforts made to find you, so I assumed…"
Blake took a few careful steps forward, which silenced him immediately. His summary of the events made sense – Blake had indeed put a clause in the handling of her affairs that if nothing changed after two years, then Edrick would be put in charge of them. It seemed things had so far panned out the way she had prepared them to in the eventuality of her disappearance, in whatever form that took. "I understand," she said, placating, because there was no reason for him to be so anxious. She hadn't killed any mortals in over three millennia. Although…she supposed he didn't know that. She crossed her arms. "But I'm here now. You must know what I want."
Edrick nodded and stood up rather suddenly, fumbling for something in his breast pocket while he began rambling mindlessly. "I still keep this key on me at all times, you know, just in case. I guess a small part of me always believed you would return. You're Nightshade, after all. Nothing could keep you down." There was a small stack of shelves on the wall with books on them, and Edrick felt under the lowest one with his fingers until he seemed to find the latch he was looking for. He then pulled the shelves forward, revealing a secret safe, which he unlocked with his key. From within the safe, he fetched a pile of bound folders and letters. He set them on his desk and motioned at them slightly. "Here they are."
Blake arched her eyebrows, making no move to approach the documents. "And the rest?"
Edrick cleared his throat. "My, ah, son has the rest."
They considered one another in tense silence for a moment, until Blake passed her tongue over lips in an attempt to reduce the dryness she felt. It didn't work. It did make Edrick look even more uncomfortable, though. She was fast to get his mind thinking of something else. "So, you have a son. Why is your son running my affairs?"
"I'm getting too old to handle everything…Nightshade, madam. Oliver is more capable."
"I see." Too old. Imagine that. What I wouldn't give to be in his place. When she felt a little less inclined to attack, Blake finally came to stand directly in front of Edrick's desk, merely two feet away from each other. She was careful not to breathe. But she did lean forward slightly, meeting his eyes, and allowed her passive aura to wash through him when she spoke next. "Well, let's not worry too much, then. How has…Oliver been handling the things you couldn't?"
Edrick's heart rate slowed. His stance relaxed. The look in his eyes became less alert. It helped Blake keep her mind off her thirst, her heightened senses returning to normal now that her interlocutor wasn't exhibiting so much fear. And it would reduce the harm to Edrick's health, too, being less anxious like this now. He sighed and motioned absentmindedly with his hand, his cadence of speech becoming almost sluggish. "As far as I know, good. I was very clear with him about what the expectations were, and I still meet with him regularly to discuss progress. He wouldn't misuse the responsibility, I swear it."
Blake would be the judge of that when she met with Oliver in person. For now, she just nodded and gave Edrick another hard smile. "Have you told Oliver about his benefactor?"
Edrick looked over his shoulder at the black mist covering the window, like some part of him was still trying to be alarmed, but his expression was unconcerned. "I did. He's well aware. But…he doesn't believe me."
"No, I suppose he wouldn't if he has never seen me before."
Edrick creased his eyebrows, looking down at the folders and papers on his desk like he wasn't sure why they were still there. He sat back down on his chair. "As per your directives, Oliver has continued steering the majority of profits from Cryolife's Vale branch and the library towards hosting charities for the homeless and raising funds for the orphanages in the city. He's a good man." Edrick's eyes lit up momentarily as he thought of something else. "In fact, he's hosting a fundraiser in two days."
"Time and place, please."
"Right. Jasper Lounge, starting at seven in the evening. It is in collaboration with Adel, I believe, so they will be auctioning designer clothing."
Oh, Coco… It seems we'll meet anyway. Two birds, one stone, as mortals said. "Thank you." Blake finally picked up the bound files and letters. "I expect you to initiate the transfer process with your attorney so that we may settle the matter soon."
"Of course, Nightshade."
"Good." Blake turned, and she was about to leave, but then said over her shoulder, "Do tell Oliver I'm looking forward to meeting him." And then all the shadows in the room converged towards her, enveloping her in their embrace, before warping back to where they were, and Blake and the manifestations of her power were gone.
She dropped off the documents at her home, in her own office, ready to be looked over later, and after grabbing the UV-C bullet from her bathroom counter, traveled towards Cryolife's Vale facilities.
Despite so many humans working here, it was one of the rare places where it wasn't immediately tempting to drink from anyone. Everything smelled too strongly of antiseptic, and the various rooms were well insulated because of the frequent manipulation of biohazardous materials. The scientists on site also dressed for safety, and that contributed to reducing the strength of any enticing scents.
There were fewer shadows in the establishment, bright lights turned on almost everywhere. Blake couldn't exactly shadow travel here, but she could still travel as a shadow. She was a dark, ominous shape that crawled along the ceilings, sometimes lounging the walls, passing through security checkpoints and locked doors like they were nothing – she did her best to avoid being seen and mostly succeeded.
The black tendrils and mist that were Blake solidified into her shape on a chair in the main office space. It was currently empty, but there was one person in particular whom Blake had ensured to be seen by, and she was expecting him to show up shortly now that he knew Blake was here.
She was right. It only took about two minutes before the door opened, closed, was locked, and then a man swiftly came to sit at the desk in front of Blake. He was wearing a mask and opaque safety glasses, but he only removed the mask, and Blake still had no idea how he could see through the glasses. The tag on his vaguely askew white garbs read Dr. Oobleck. He linked his fingers together on the desk and leaned forward a bit. "A good late afternoon to you, Nightshade. It's been quite a moment. What can I do for you?"
"Two things. First of all, were you aware of Aurora's new UV-C bullets?"
"I don't believe so. Interesting. Do you have a sample?"
The bullet was in her hand already. She placed it on the desk in front of the doctor. "This one is used. I may be able to retrieve an unused clip later. But I thought you might be interested in analyzing the liquid light."
Dr. Oobleck's eyebrows rose so that they were visible above his glasses. He grabbed the bullet, but then dropped it suddenly when he realized it was silver. "Mm-hmm, yes, okay." He put on a new pair of latex gloves and picked it up again, and brought it closer to his face to look it over. Then he produced a loop out of one of the drawers in his desk and studied it even more intently, occasionally humming and muttering to himself.
Meanwhile, Blake's gaze became more and more narrowed until she was outright squinting at him. "Doctor?"
He immediately put the loop back into his desk and instead put the bullet into a sample bag before shoving it in his lab coat pocket. "Anyway, yes, very fascinating. Thank you for bringing that to me, I'll be sure to run some tests and see if I can uncover its secrets. As soon as I learn anything, I'll let you know."
"Thank you. I'd appreciate it."
"You're very welcome. And your second inquiry, Nightshade?"
Any amusement Blake had begun feeling vanished. She leaned forward a bit. "I'd like an update on your main operation. Any progress?"
Oobleck's face was impassive. Without being able to see his eyes, it was always a little disconcerting. Blake wasn't intimidated by him at all, but for some reason, he had never been intimidated by her despite only being a hair past two hundred. He drummed his fingers on the desk before suddenly crossing his arms. "Yes. We've been able to turn the mice. And other specimens, too."
Blake's eyes widened. They had been trying to achieve this for…well, a long time. Longer than fifty years. It was an important breakthrough. "How long ago? Can you show me?"
Oobleck nodded. "Yes." He jumped out of his seat, put his mask back on, and motioned at Blake. "It's fairly recent. Two years now. You'll have to put on a coat and keep your hands to yourself." Which Blake already knew, but he hurried over to one of the cabinets he had in the corner and fetched a lab coat for her anyway before she could properly react. "Here." Blake shrugged out of her blazer and draped it over the chair she'd been sitting on. Meanwhile, Oobleck continued, "Also, now that you're back, I thought you should know there are health and safety evaluators visiting in three days."
She almost let that comment slide while she put on the lab coat. But then she realized the doctor wouldn't mention something like that out of the blue if it wasn't important, so she asked the one question that seemed mildly pertinent based on the one detail he had gone out of his way to provide. "Are they on schedule?"
…And got the answer she needed. "No. Our last evaluation was only a month ago and they never give us such short notice. That's why I thought you should know."
"I see." There was only one possibility about what this was, then. "In that case…" Blake turned to face Oobleck fully again once she smoothed over the coat and pulled her hair out of the collar. "Make sure Aurora finds out nothing. Hide any suspicious materials in advance, focus on your more benign operations during their visit. They cannot get the slightest hint of what you're working on. Let them evaluate, answer their questions, and make them believe they've thoroughly wasted their time."
Oobleck was listing off her directives on his fingers. Then he stood straighter at attention. "As you wish, Nightshade. Aurora will find nothing out of the ordinary here."
She acquiesced, and then they both just stood there.
He stared at her. Waiting.
She sighed and put her hands in the big coat pockets.
Seemingly satisfied now, Oobleck guided Blake out of the office at a quick pace, and she practically had to jog to keep up with him. He weaved through his colleagues working in the open laboratory space, and Blake followed him through a few locked doors until they reached a dimly lit hallway with cages lining the walls.
But these were not regular cages. Blake immediately felt the discomfort on her skin, the itch that hinted at a lot of silver nearby. And they were not simply made of small bars where it was easy to see inside. These cages were reinforced, the bars thick and only around the tops. The sounds coming out of them were not anything like mice squeaks or whatever they may be, either. It was more like a lot of unnatural hissing and yipping.
Oobleck shut the door behind them, and Blake stood still because suddenly she wasn't sure any of this had been a good idea. Except it was far too late to backtrack. Two years too late. Maybe even fifty. "Doctor, what…have they turned into?" She didn't know if she should even dare look inside the cells. She hadn't considered this outcome.
"Monsters. Animals with a soul no more." He sounded grave, and started advancing down the hallway much more slowly than his earlier pace. He gestured at the cages he passed one by one, and Blake's eyes never left him. "Without advanced intelligence or morality to guide them like we do, all they know is their baser instinct – hunger. Except now they know no fear, and they seem to have no concept of –"
"Being sated," Blake finished in a whisper, "reduced to a never-ending state of frenzy." Oobleck didn't try to correct her. For the first time in a very, very long time, she felt sick to her stomach. There were hands reaching around her neck, digging into her jugular and into the base of her skull. Someone's voice was rasping in her ear, tearing into her mind. You never have to be hungry again, my love. Show them who holds the power now. "Have any escaped?" she demanded, and her voice was hoarse and loud because she was trying so hard to hear herself over the sound of screaming in her head and ringing in her ears.
Dr. Oobleck came back over to her, but with the glasses and mask it was impossible to tell his expression. "No. All specimens are accounted for so far. We don't dare try to turn bigger animals at the moment…but we're reaching a point where it might be necessary to further our research." He tilted his head, leaning forward a bit. "Nightshade, you don't seem well."
"I'm…fine!" Blake clenched her teeth, forcing her respiratory system to shut off again because she had started panting, the ache in her stomach and dryness of her throat coming to the forefront of her mind with vicious intensity even though she wasn't nearly thirsty enough to be having this kind of reaction. You can't go into a frenzy, you can't go into a frenzy – There was only one thing she could do to stop herself from losing control, and she had to do it now. She turned away from Dr. Oobleck, pulled up her sleeve, and brutally sunk her teeth into her own arm.
Sharp pain assaulted her nervous system, distracting her mind, and then she had an initial taste of bitter copper which turned into an overpowering saltiness, and that made her gag. She choked, eyes watering, but pressed down harder into her flesh until the pain was firing off through her entire torso, until she had sliced through muscle and veins alike. Only then did she release her arm. Within seconds, the deep gouge marks of her teeth in her skin began to heal, leaving only the stygian traces and smears of her blood as proof that there had been a wound there at all. But the purpose had been achieved – Blake was sufficiently thrown off that the risk of succumbing to her frenzy disappeared.
She allowed herself to breathe again, deeply and measured, and closed her eyes for a moment after blinking a few times to clear the wetness. "You wouldn't happen to have some tissues nearby, would you?" she asked, swallowing thickly, calming down now that her mind wasn't filled with the cries of her victims or the sweetest, tormenting urgings of her once-mentor. Her mouth and back of her throat still burned from the taste of acrid salt, but that would fade eventually.
She missed Yang. And Yang's blood. They both had such a soothing effect on her, a warmth like nothing Blake had ever experienced before, being comforted and energized and satisfied all at once, like being alive was just maybe something worthwhile, and suddenly she wished more than anything that it wouldn't be unacceptable to meet with Yang again.
…What?
Blake didn't make it a habit to be roaming around this thirsty – and she was very much being reminded of the reason why.
Dr. Oobleck presented Blake with a few cotton pads, which she took to wipe off any remaining blood from her arm and mouth. He pulled the waste disposal shoot open from the wall so she could get rid of the pads afterwards, saying, "Very interesting. Would you recommend – "
"We're not talking about it."
"Purely for scientific dis – "
"Doctor, the remains of your corpse will be a scientific discovery by the time I'm done with you. Show me the creatures."
Oobleck shook his head and motioned Blake forward. "No appreciation for the work I do here."
Blake ignored that.
Secretly, though, she was glad the only thing he cared about were the analytics of her frenzy attack, and not the trauma, itself. There were many worse demons than excessive curiosity, after all – like the ones Blake was hearing now. She followed Dr. Oobleck closer towards the first few cages, and he reached towards one of them that was at eye-level. He slid open the peak-hole and moved to give Blake the space to see.
Her eyes widened when she saw them.
They weren't harmless mice anymore. They were bigger, blacker, with plates of bone armor growing out of them to cover their heads and protect their torso. Spikes grew out of their tails, and their claws were much longer, much more menacing. Their eyes were a glowing, burning red.
And when they saw something staring at them, they immediately snapped and raced towards Blake.
She backed up in time, and they both crashed into the metal of the cage, screeching and squealing in terrible anger. They started clawing at the sides of the cell, and recoiled when the silver stung them.
Dr. Oobleck shut the peak-hole. He cleared his throat, but Blake couldn't quite relax her stance right away. "As you can see, it may not be safe to attempt to turn larger animals. At least, not until we are better equipped to contain them."
Blake's eyes stayed focused on the cages, thoughts firing off in different directions. There weren't very many things that still made her afraid in the world…but this? The possibilities of harm were far too numerous. Finally, she asked, "You've been able to consistently turn the animals that you do have?"
"Yes. We've altered the venom with great precision and results have been conclusive."
Blake wanted to rub her face and pace, but she stayed put, hands in her coat's pockets, and firmed her expression into something more professionally neutral. "What tests have you done on them?"
"As you must have seen, they are weak against silver, as we are. It is still uncertain if they can turn other animals. At the moment the answer is no, but a fledgling vampire can turn mortals after they've reached a hundred years of age…and so it is possible that once they reach a certain age, too, these grimm may be able to turn other animals in a similar way."
"That's what you're calling them? Grimm?" Blake arched her eyebrows, and when Dr. Oobleck confirmed, she sighed. Can't get much more appropriate than that, I suppose. Sometimes grim problems required grim solutions, after all. "Anything else?"
"We've begun harvesting blood samples to isolate the vampire genome. Tests have so far been failures to separate it from the original animal's DNA. We're working on it."
It was a good thing time was all Blake ever had, and that reading and learning new things were two of her favorite hobbies. Science had evolved by leaps and bounds, especially within the past few centuries, and had she not dedicated so much time into staying updated and knowledgeable, she would not have been qualified to supervise Cryolife's Vale branch. The things they were discovering, the kinds of experiments and accomplishments they could do now…they almost seemed indistinguishable from magic, and Blake was sometimes still tempted to call it that even if she knew the real process behind it. Sometimes even now, she felt out of her depth – and not having foreseen what might get created, exactly, by trying to turn animals into vampires made her uncomfortable.
She didn't let her hesitations show, though. It would have been pointless anyway. "Good. Keep trying. And don't bring in bigger animals until you've been able to isolate the vampire genome. The size of the creature isn't going to matter here, and there's no use in taking extra risks with this. And stop creating more of these grimm unless you absolutely need to for the purpose of advancing the research. This is dangerous."
"Yes, Nightshade. We are taking as many precautions as necessary, have no fear."
Blake almost scoffed. Instead, she frowned. "Wonderful. And now I'm getting out of this gods' forsaken hallway." She promptly turned around and walked towards the exit out, anxious to finally get away from the monsters they themselves had made. She knew it was necessary, that they had tried every other humane alternative with no results, but it didn't mean she had to like it or even think what they were doing was right. It wasn't right.
But after all the wrong she had wrought, what was one more in the name of finally bringing some good?
The fundraiser gala at Jasper Lounge two days later was already well underway when Blake arrived. She rose from the floor in one of the dim side halls on the second level, back against the wall, immediately holding her breath. The shadows fell away from her, and she closed her eyes for a moment. Pop music was blaring from speakers on the main floor, guests milled about around the runway there, too. Some were peering down over the railing near Blake, many drinking wine and chatting and generally having a good time. So many heartbeats. So many exposed wrists and arms and necks because of the formal dress theme.
She swallowed hard, and the action scratched her parched throat. Her mouth was dry, too, and the ache in her stomach had turned into a pain that felt like her organs were shriveling up inside of her. Even her skin seemed to stretch just a little more taught over her muscles, as dehydration did to mortals. Blake had gotten to this point of thirst before, so she knew she could still control herself, but if she allowed herself to breathe, then there was no telling what would make her snap.
It's fine. I'll message Yang later tonight.
…But what if she says no?
Blake shook her head as if she could physically banish the doubts. Whatever. She had other things she had to focus on right now. So, she firmed her expression and blocked out any temptations the best she could, and walked out of the shadows, towards the railing. She placed her hands on the wooden banister and carefully surveyed the crowd below. As expected, she saw Coco somewhere near the side of the runway, talking with some colorfully dressed men. It seemed they were in-between auctions for expensive clothing, currently ensuring the model catwalk was going smoothly. Blake would go see her soon. She didn't know what Oliver looked like, but chances were that he would be giving a speech tonight, and she would be able to go meet him afterwards. That was her plan, at least.
Just as Blake began stepping away from the railing, her eyes caught sight of two individuals all the way across lounge through the flashing lights, on the second floor's other side, facing her. And they were both staring directly at her. Intently.
Aurora. Fantastic.
But these enforcers were not Yang and Operative Akouo. Nor were they those two other enforcers Blake had seen with the blonde and her redhead partner – Privates Crescent and Ruyi. These two new enforcers looked somewhat older and much more severe – still well-dressed for the occasion, one man with military-cropped black hair greying at the temples, and one woman with pale blonde hair tied up in a bun – and it seemed they had noticed Blake while doing surveillance of their own.
If only for the sake of helping to conceal Coco's and any other vampires' present identities, Blake didn't give in to the urge to go introduce herself, nor did she make it look too obvious that she knew who, or rather what, they were. The more clueless she seemed, the less certain they'd be to point her out as a vampire. I didn't know there were more of them in Vale, though… And these ones certainly looked like they were going to be trouble.
Blake pushed away from the banister and mingled through the crowd to disappear from immediate sight. At the same time, she brought her free hand up a bit, and tiny black coils of mist began dancing around her fingers. They took shape, becoming two shadow-mosquitos at her fingertips, and Blake sent them off towards the enforcers at the other end of the room with the order to stay nearby and listen to their conversations. Meanwhile, she made her way through the different groups of chatting guests with the intention of finding Coco.
It only took a few seconds before Blake began overhearing the Aurora chatter.
"– eye out. Possible vampire spotted on the second level, female, black hair and Faunus ears on her head," the woman was notifying whoever else had wires. And then, after a moment, she added in response to someone, "Too far away to tell. But the ears seem feline."
So, there are more of them here. Blake would have to stay on her guard. If she allowed herself to breathe, she would be able to pinpoint the other enforcers with a lot more ease – they just smelled so…different and interesting compared to regular mortals – but breathing in the state of great thirst she was in was begging for a murder or twelve to occur. How do they even know to be here? But then Blake remembered how Aurora was investigating Cryolife, and it was no secret Cryolife was one of the sponsors for this fundraiser. But for Aurora to show up at a fundraiser really went to show how little information they had. Blake might have internally laughed at them for grasping at straws at this point, but…well, the presence of vampires here would probably tip them off about being on the right track, however far off they were.
Blake finally spotted Coco a few feet away and approached the younger vampire with purpose. Coco saw her coming, and her expression immediately became stormy. She interrupted her conversation with the two other designers, telling them she'd find them again later, and came to meet Blake part of the way. As soon as they were close enough, Coco gave her a smile so angry it might as well have been a snarl, putting her hands on the ancient's shoulders and squeezing so tight Blake almost winced.
"I'm so glad you could make it," she said through a thinly veiled hiss. "For a moment there, it was almost like you didn't give a shit."
Blake felt her own fury rise to meet Coco's. Her stare sharpened, her muscles tensed. "I think," Blake started in a low growl, raising her hand and taking Coco's wrist, fingers digging in so hard that the younger vampire gasped and immediately released Blake's shoulder, "that you are forgetting who you're talking to."
They defied each other with their gazes, until Coco glanced at the guests around them and then narrowed her eyes. "We can't speak here. But, Blake, this is urgent. Aurora is capturing us and sending us away."
Guilt instantly overpowered Blake's anger, and she let go of Coco and tried to relax her stance. "Then I'll come see you sometime after the gala. And…" Blake almost sighed, but caught herself in time and shook her head instead. "I'm sorry. There's a lot to take care of right now." She firmed her expression. "I think I know who's doing it, though. I'm going to make it stop."
Coco nodded, a brief look of relief passing through her eyes. But she seemed to notice something on Blake's face that suddenly alarmed her, and came in closer to whisper aggressively, "Why haven't you fed yet? Are you trying to cause problems?"
Blake clenched her teeth. There was no reasonable way to have hidden her eye color. There were supposedly such things called 'colored contacts,' and those may have worked, but Blake hadn't gotten around to trying them yet. She had never needed to before; it hadn't been a reflex to seek them out. She should have expected this, though.
Fortunately, she was saved from having to come up with an answer when somebody gently put their hand on her arm. Blake pivoted, just in time to see long chestnut hair and rabbit ears, and then the girl's arms came around her for a hug. The ancient froze, hands coming up in anticipation to push the girl away before her frenzy was triggered…but nothing happened. Other than the initial fear of her trauma surfacing, Blake remained in control of herself.
In the time in took for her to realize why and accept the hug, the girl had already backed away, and Blake found herself unexpectedly overcome with a loneliness so crushing she had to blink back tears. "Mimic…" Blake was motionless, shocked. "You agreed to being turned."
Her friend smiled. "After hearing Coco beg for a few years, yeah. It happened a little over four decades ago."
"I did not beg," Coco immediately muttered, crossing her arms.
Mimic's smile grew. "Sure you didn't. Anyway, so I can finally hug you now! And Coco won't have an aneurysm if you know my real name, either." She extended her hand towards Blake. "I'm Velvet Scarlatina. It's nice to finally make your formal acquaintance."
Blake's hand automatically shook Mim – Velvet's hand, noticing the ring. But that wasn't what made her stare. Her friend still looked like she was in her mid to late twenties, even though she was technically in her late sixties now. Still incredibly young. A new fledgling vampire. Coco hadn't quite even been a century old yet when she and Velvet had started dating.
It wasn't that Blake wasn't happy for them. She just had her reservations about creating more vampires. The world did not need more of them, especially when left unchecked – and maybe, ironically, that was a sentiment she shared with Aurora, and even for similar reasons – but, at the end of the day, if Velvet had chosen this in full knowledge of what it entailed, then that was her prerogative. Blake just couldn't imagine why anybody would ever want this.
But, then again, when eternity didn't mean suffocating under the weight of over one-hundred-thousand deaths, and there was someone worthwhile to share that eternity with…
No, for Blake, being alone and alive was her punishment. And she deserved it, a thousand years for every life she had taken. Nothing less.
She refocused on the present moment. Velvet's eyes were the most notable change Blake could see – they looked more copper than just brown. And maybe her skin was a bit paler. Regardless, Blake was happy to see her again. She just regretted having shied away from messaging her because of guilt…and she hadn't even called her back like she said she would. A part of Blake had feared meeting with her and seeing her friend as an elderly woman – not because of the physical changes, but facing the inevitable passage of time, time that Blake hadn't even announced her disappearance into.
But Velvet didn't seem like she was holding anything against Blake…and that almost made her feel worse.
Before Blake could respond to Velvet, she suddenly heard the male enforcer say through the intermediary of her shadow insect, "Copy that. Suspect is speaking with two other women right now near the runway – they seem close. Logging information."
Blake's expression almost twitched. "Welcome to immortalhood, then, Velvet," she finally managed with a tight smile, trying to remain calm. "I trust Coco's been guiding you properly?"
"Oh, absolutely. But speaking of, I feel like she asked you a pretty valid question a moment ago. Red eyes aren't a good sign. Why haven't you fed?"
Blake's eyes scanned the crowd around them, and scanned the upper level, too. She swore she saw a shock of blonde hair, and there was a sudden, intense, and distressing pull in her chest, and Blake had to force herself to tear her eyes away and look at Velvet again. "My…volunteer is indisposed. I'm giving her a little more time." It was the best excuse she could come up with, and it wasn't entirely unrealistic, either, or even that far from the truth.
She couldn't let anyone know about Yang and their little transactional deal. She supposed she felt similarly to what Coco had felt towards Velvet when the rabbit Faunus had still been mortal, some protectiveness, but it was a lot graver than that with Yang. The arrangement they had was dangerous and disadvantageous to them both. Had Blake been in her right mind at the time, she would never have drunk from Yang the night they met – or any enforcer, for that matter. And had Yang been in her right mind, she would have just shot Blake in the head and in the heart and then burned her corpse until all that was left was ash.
It was what Blake wished would have happened, in any case.
But Yang had made an uninformed, split-second decision to save civilian lives. As stupid as it was, Blake couldn't blame her for that.
The fact remained, though, that if other vampires knew about all of it, Blake would become vulnerable – more vulnerable than she had ever been before, and that was saying something. She had a terrible weakness now, not one that made her easier to kill, but one that could be exploited and used against her and used as leverage to control her. And that was a huge, gaping problem for everyone.
Even more than that, Blake had to continuously force herself to stop thinking about the possibility of being discovered because of the sheer anxiety it caused her. The only thing her mind kept wanting to conjure was him. And that was never safe.
Blake was able to avoid having to answer more questions thanks to the lights dimming even more and the music's volume lowering significantly. Coco excused herself, saying she had to go be ready to give her speech. Velvet gave Blake a brief smile, waved discreetly, and then followed her wife. Blake watched them go, another pang of regret making it feel like there was a boulder weighing on her chest, and she tried to shake it off with little success.
Meanwhile, a lot of the guests were sitting down at tables or moving over to the sidelines to avoid blocking anybody's view, the chatter quieting.
I hate this. Blake glanced around herself, making sure nobody's eyes were on her, and then used the barely lit surroundings to become the shadows, disappearing entirely. Like this, her perception wasn't reduced to a single point – she could survey a greater area, feel it more than see it, without being seen in return. She was the ominous presence mortals sometimes felt when they stared into the dark.
Blake observed the main floor with much more ease like this. The first speaker who went up before the crowd was a man in his late thirties. He was dressed in a stylish grey suit, tie tucked into the vest around his waist underneath the blazer. His brown hair and beard were both kept carefully messy – he was handsome, and his smile seemed genuine.
He took the mic from the stand and said, "Welcome and thank you all for coming tonight. Most of you already know me, I'm Oliver Beryl, director of operations for Cryolife and owner of Vale's Historic Library and Museum, as well as your host for this evening's fundraiser. I'm here in collaboration with Coco Adel, the phenomenal fashionista bringing some of her most exquisite pieces…"
Blake mostly tuned out of the speech. She knew who Oliver was now – she'd be able to go see him later. He did seem like he was competent, and if he really was anything like Edrick had assured, then Blake's affairs had been in good hands. Maybe this didn't have to be a big issue tonight. Regardless, Blake's attention turned to locating the other enforcers who were apparently also present along with the two severe looking ones. The least she could do to make up for failing Coco and Velvet was keep tabs on the organization who appeared to be becoming increasingly aggressive in its vampire hunting.
It's my fault, too. I locked myself away from the world. Another ancient took advantage of that.
So, Aurora being here was her problem to fix. And the other ancient was her problem, too.
What a tightrope to be walking.
It was only when Coco took Oliver's place in front of the crowd that Blake spotted another duo of enforcers. They walked closer to the middle of the area and sat at a different table, their eyes on Coco. It was Privates Crescent and Ruyi. They tried to be subtle, but Crescent didn't seem comfortable or adept in her dress, and Ruyi couldn't be bothered to hide his bracer under his men's blouse.
Blake sent off two more shadow-mosquitos to eavesdrop on their conversations. The fact that they were stalking Coco didn't bode well.
"Lost visual on the feline Faunus woman," the older female enforcer announced.
"Wait, actually, hold on. Feline?" came a new voice, and Blake was able to see that it was Ruyi she was hearing. "Feline Faunus aren't…you know, around anymore…"
He apparently hadn't been listening earlier or something, if he was only commenting on it now. Blake saw his monkey tail flicker and curl behind him.
"Logging information," the older male enforcer replied.
The Aurora chatter didn't continue after that. It seemed they were mostly just observing. But that didn't make Blake feel any less suspicious of their intentions. Coco said Aurora was capturing vampires and sending them away. It was entirely possible the enforcers were waiting for an opportunity to spring a trap.
That absolutely would not happen while Blake was around.
The lights brightened again when the speeches were over, and Blake was forced to take on her physical form once more or else a splotch of blackness would immediately be a cause for questions. The music started up again, along with the activities of the fundraiser. Blake made sure to reappear somewhere discreet, and then made her way through the crowd again to find Oliver. At the same time, she kept an eye and ear out for whatever irritating nonsense Aurora was up to.
They were quiet for now.
Blake found Oliver under one of the ornate support columns holding up the second level – directly below where the two older enforcers had positioned themselves. They wouldn't be able to spot their target like this if Blake approached. Oliver was sitting casually on a plush armchair, chatting with two other friendly-looking guests, who were occupying the loveseat to his right. Blake didn't immediately walk up to them, though. Instead, she directed her passive aura towards the couple. Their lively conversation became much more subdued, until one of them yawned, and they excused themselves from Oliver with a, "Oh, my, it is getting late, though. Thank you so much for tonight's activities, Mr. Beryl. I don't know what's come over me, but I'm suddenly very tired. We'll be heading out to catch some sleep."
"Of course. And thank you for your generous contributions. A good night to you both."
They left him, and Oliver swirled the wine in his glass thoughtfully, none the wiser of what had just happened. Blake began her approach, and when his wandering eyes caught sight of her, his brows rose in surprise. By the time she had reached him, he had stood to greet her.
She extended her hand towards him. "'Evening, Oliver. I'm Nightshade. I trust your father has told you to expect me tonight?"
Oliver took Blake's hand and gave it a bit of a distracted shake. She didn't know why she thought it had been a good idea to let him touch her. She felt the thrum of his pulse under his skin, and there was an answering echo of hunger that electrified her nerves.
She quickly released him and dug her nails into her palm at her side, putting her other hand on her hip.
His eyes were darting across her face, then taking in all of her. He gave nothing away, though, and Blake had to give him some credit. "He did tell me you wanted to meet me." Oliver gestured at her, his expression finally betraying a hint of careful mirth. "I have to say, the appearance is convincing. Red eyes, pale skin, sharp canines, slight exotic accent, even the fatal beauty thing you have going on." He took a sip of his wine. "I'm afraid, though, that if you really are an actual vampire, I'm going to need a little more proof than looks. All I see is a rare kind of Faunus."
Blake couldn't help it – she grinned. Almost laughed, even. It was so ludicrous – the mere idea of her having to prove she was a vampire. But she'd predicted this, thanks to Edrick. So, she'd humor him. For now. "Very well. I can show you subtly, or not so subtly. What shall it be?"
He raised his eyebrows, looking genuinely invested in the prospect offered to him, even if still amused. "Let's try subtle first."
"As you wish. Do I have your permission to command you? I promise no harm will be done."
Oliver chuckled. "You know, the way my father spoke about you, I was expecting more…fear tactics. But go ahead. You have my permission."
If fear tactics are what will convince you… Blake didn't respond, though. Instead, she locked eyes with him, and he immediately couldn't look away, suddenly motionless. She leaned forward a bit, and murmured to him, lacing her voice with power, "It's bad business practice to underestimate your partners, Oliver Beryl. Walk over to the food bar, set down your wine. Return to me with a butter knife." She had promised no harm would be done, after all. The threat of harm, on the other hand…
Oliver turned and walked off. She watched him go, maintaining focus, and even when he was out of sight, she kept her grasp over him. It only took him about two minutes. He soon came back, as if in a trance, a clean butter knife in hand instead of the glass of wine. He stood in front of Blake again, waiting for the next order since she hadn't released him yet. A part of her began feeling guilty for doing this, began being reminded of why she didn't do this anymore, and a shudder crawled up her spine. "Good. Now raise your arm between us and place the edge of the knife against your wrist."
Yes, Blake…my love…
Oliver obeyed without hesitation, without question, without showing an ounce of emotion. His arm came up, the sleeve of his suit pulling away just enough for him to place the metal edge of the knife directly on the skin of his wrist.
Blake stared at it. Zeroed in on it. Everything else faded away – the chatter and the music and the lights, the people milling at the corners of vision near the runway, the gala itself. Make him cut himself. Show him how meaningless he is. Show them all. She could hear Oliver's heartbeat. So calm. So unbothered. Completely unaware of how much danger he was in. Completely ready to spill his own blood, because of her. Thanks to her.
Do it, Blake. Stop disappointing me at every turn and fucking do it!
She was frozen in time, seeing a different place, a different moment, a different crime. Adam's hand threaded through her hair and touched the base of her skull. They stood in a simple, dimly lit throne room before Sienna Khan, who had just refused to hand them control over the recently reformed White Fang. Blake had hesitated, had been reminded of her parents, of what they – and she, too – once stood for. But Adam never accepted hesitation. And so Blake's eyes locked with Sienna's, and any air of defiance the tiger Faunus might have possessed vanished. She stood from her throne, devoid of will, and took one of the ornate spears behind the chair. Then she set it on the bottom-most step of the dais in front of her, and, with all the calm of someone merely going to bed for the night, fell over, chest first, onto the point of the spear.
There was a strangled noise as Sienna lost her balance and all her weight shifted forward, sliding further onto the uneven, sharp shapes of the weapon until it pierced out of her back with fleshy suction sounds, and blood dripped onto the stone steps beneath her. Blake felt her life slipping away between the claws of her mind, and there some tiny part of Blake screaming and rattling the confines within her own self…but it was too late. Sienna hit the hard floor with a crack to her head, and that was the end.
The White Fang was theirs.
But here was not there. The players were different, and the pieces, too, but the game was awfully familiar. Blake struggled to find her body again, struggled to remember the reason why she was doing what she was doing. It wasn't to hurt or to kill. She had promised no harm would be done. Adam was not here to punish her. Or reward her. There was no winning or losing – only zero-sum survival. He's not here.
"…I release you, Oliver," Blake said through grit teeth, and she did. The noise came back, her field of vision opened once more, the haze of her memories retreated. But she felt no relief. She was still so fucking thirsty, still so close to snapping.
Oliver blinked a few times, looked around, and realized the precarious position he was in, realized the knife at his wrist was a threat. He slowly brought his hands down to his sides, keeping the knife in his grip. Warily, his gaze found Blake's. He wasn't smiling anymore. "Alright…so you know how to hypnotize people. That helps the scary image, I'll give you that. But, so far, this only proves my father was being more paranoid than necessary."
Oh, you're pretty stubborn, aren't you? Blake's fingers twitched, but she managed to keep them at her sides, too. "Then I guess the less subtle method is in order."
Oliver's expression firmed. "No, I think that's enough of my time wasted. I don't need –"
But Blake was sick of playing, too. "No, you've wasted my time." She threw the charm onto him, made him see what she wanted him to see. That was – nothing at all. Only himself, suddenly standing in an infinite expanse of blackness with no sense of what was up or down or forwards or backwards, and made the silence press down on him like it was the entire world he had to hold. He froze.
"Your father was much smarter than you, Oliver, and even your grandfather before him," she hissed, tricking his mind so that he would hear her from all around him. He took a step back, straining, but that seemed to disorient him even more, and the look on his face had turned to panic. "Your arrogance was amusing at first, but I'm tired now. Will you give me what is rightfully mine, or…" and now Blake approached him, even if he couldn't see her, and made her voice sound like it was a whisper directly in his ears, "…or shall we escalate the situation even further?"
His heart was pounding. His breathing was labored, hitching. Sweat had pearled at his temples, leaking down. Everything about him made him prey in her eyes. Oliver sunk to his knees right there in front of her in supplication, and he said, voice shaking, "Forgive me, Nightshade, mistress of darkness. I was stupid, it was so hard to believe that a vampire could be at the heart of my family's wealth. But I know now. Forgive me. Everything is yours. Whatever you want."
Whatever you want, Blake. With the power you have now, it is all yours for the taking.
And now Blake really did feel like she was going to throw up. She immediately cleared the charm from Oliver's mind, returning him to his mortal senses, and left him there to deal with the people noticing he was unwell without saying another word.
He would be fine. She hadn't hurt him.
She hadn't hurt him.
Blake stalked through the crowd, desperate to find a quiet corner she could disappear into, dozens of heartbeats assailing her ears. She would have to just exit through the front entrance – it was the closest. She had to get out.
"I have visuals on the suspect again. She's on the move. Operative Ember, you're on interception traject –"
Blake saw her, then – near the doors. And Yang saw her, too. For the briefest of moments, it was like time slowed down, like the entire world stopped and ceased existing, and all that was left was Yang. Yang, who looked like the sun in her fun and loose off-white and yellow party dress, a dress that bared her throat and collarbone. Yang, in all the warmth she radiated, in all the soothingness she represented for Blake, both inside and out – and she needed it all so fucking much right now. She just had to surge into Yang's space, beg her to let her drink, beg her to have mercy, beg her to give Blake release from this relentless torture –
Don't you dare.
Instead, guilt viciously tore into Blake's heart like a roaring demon with razor talons, and she broke eye contact before shoving the doors open – and vanishing into the night.
Only once she was in her home, in the pitch blackness, did Blake allow herself to break down. She crawled onto her bed, tears freely streaming down her cheeks, panting and aching and feeling so hollow, like she was made of an empty cavity, a gaping maw waiting to devour Vale's entire population whole. She'd be fine if she could only just calm down. She was just too close to a frenzied state right now. That was all. Blake took out her scroll, putting it on the bed in front of her while she practically curled herself around it. She had no right. She didn't deserve Yang, or her blood. It was wrong. It was disaster waiting to happen.
Yet Blake still opened up Yang's messages, clutching her throat, compelled by a need that was beyond her own strength.
She realized Yang had sent her a message. Almost three days ago, now – it was shortly after their meeting on the roof of the library, the one that had ended in one of the worst ways imaginable and made it so very clear that Blake was far beyond saving. She couldn't even accept a fucking hug without being triggered.
Hey u alive out there? If u r, wtf happened on the roof?
Blake moaned, and it almost devolved into an outright sob. She hadn't checked her scroll. She hadn't explained herself to Yang, or reassured her. She hadn't done anything to even try to make the situation a bit better. And now more than ever before, Blake only wanted to meet with Yang again, so that maybe, just maybe, she could attempt to make things right.
Scarlet River Hotel, she typed, In four hours. I'll be waiting.
And Blake could only hope she could sufficiently pull herself together until then.
Or that Yang would even accept to show up.
So, I have a good majority of the next few chapters written out, but the next new update won't be for a while still. The REASON is that I've been working on a proper outline for the story, and in doing so, I've realized that I need to go back and change a few things in the previous chapters. So, I WILL be updating, but it'll be the first few chapters that will receive some *revamping* (see what I did there haha). I'll be putting a note at the end of each chapter that I've edited so you guys can know where I'm at as I go.
Also, I'm sorry that Blake is dealing with so much. She literally has over a thousand years of trauma to work through...it's going to be a long journey, and I want to address it with the care and thought it deserves.
That being said, I'm a strong believer that angst in stories needs to be balanced with an equal amount - if not more - of fluff. So, you can expect a lot of that from me, too.
Please, let me know your thoughts or any criticisms you might have! I love having opportunities to improve.
See you guys around!