Yellow, like Herriot, had gone her separate way a few years back. Unlike him, however, she'd at least had the courtesy to leave a phone number.

"We'll have to call tomorrow morning," I said. Kalos was several time zones ahead of us, and I certainly wouldn't want to field calls at three in the morning.

"Leaf," he said with a look, "vampires don't sleep."

Right.

In my defense, Gary had been doing a pretty good job of "sleeping" for the most part. A few nights I would wake up to find him missing—as I found out the first time, he would generally slip downstairs and work on his writing. By the time my alarm sounded in the morning, he'd be back in bed as if he'd never left.

I hunted through our organized box of cards containing names, numbers, addresses, and birthdays, something I'd insisted on carrying over from my childhood. Sure enough, Yellow's was still there, blank except for her name and number and neatly printed in her handwriting. Gary punched the number in beside me.

"You don't think she got a new one?" I asked as it rang. He didn't respond. The phone continued to ring, and with every one I felt my heart drop. I took a sip of my next glass of Riesling.

The sixth ring cut off, but instead of an answering machine, a familiar voice piped up. "Hello?" said Yellow. I felt breath return to me.

"Yellow," Gary said, all smiles, "good to hear you! It's Gary. How have you been?"

Although I couldn't catch every word, she was clearly excited to be getting this call. I already felt bad that we were pretty much only using her to get to Herriot. Even though the wine sat uncomfortably in my stomach, I took another pull, and I tucked the nail of my thumb between my teeth.

"That's great," Gary said. "That's really great to hear. I hope that's going well. Mm-hmm. I'm glad it's worked out…" He stepped out of the kitchen, phone still in hand, and his voice receded. I could hear his footsteps mounting the stairs. Not fifteen seconds later they were back.

"...all honesty, Pewter is probably cheaper, but VDM is more convenient for us," he was saying as he re-entered the kitchen, now with a notebook and pen. He listened for a moment, scratching something down. "Le Lièvre, you said, okay. Tomorrow then is perfect. Thank you so much, we really appreciate it. We'll see you soon. Looking forward to it. Bye." He hung up and set the phone back in its cradle.

"So did she say anything about where Herriot is?" I asked.

He gave me a look askance. "I'm not an asshole. We're visiting her. Then we can ask."

—

"I really wish you would have discussed the plan with me first," I said accusingly. As I quickened my pace to catch up with his long legs, my rolling carry-on struck another traveler's, and my apology was brusque at best.

"You were the one desperate to get to Kalos," he said. He took a left, not slowing.

"Not this desperate!"

I hadn't been lying yesterday when I'd said I had some work to finish up, and despite my best attempt at efficiency and organization, between that and preparation for the trip—not to mention my whirling thoughts—I was left feeling rushed and overwhelmed. VDM had never felt more massive or more crowded. The ticket printer had had some technical issues. Security had stopped me for a pair of shoes in my bag. I hadn't had a chance to shower beforehand.

I was, to be certain, entirely out of my element.

I was beginning to feel sticky by the time Gate 35 came into sight. "Slow down," I groaned. "We're almost there, and they haven't even called boarding yet."

To my delight, he finally did slow down to a normal pace now. There were a few scattered seats open, one of which I took to catch my breath. Gary remained standing, eyes watchful. Soon enough, we boarded, and eight uneventful hours later, we landed at LKM. As usual, I'd gotten no sleep on the plane, but the threat of missing our connection to Laverre kept my steps brisk.

It was after normal commuter hours by the time we boarded the train north, and the cars were relatively quiet. As the train rattled on and we made our stops in a series of progressively tinier towns in the Kalosian countryside, the small number of passengers around us dwindled further. One broad-shouldered man across us had fallen asleep, propped up by the window. His hat had fallen off onto the seat next to him.

Our voices hushed, Gary had been catching me up to speed on Yellow's developments. She'd left the school a couple years back to come out to Kalos and work with the High Court of vampires, an idea that bordered on the hilarious to me. Nothing like building a justice system to keep a group composed of natural murderers and assaulters in line.

"It must be pretty lonely for her out here, I would think," I said.

"I'm sure she's made some friends," he said with a shrug. "She sounded happy."

"Yellow never imprinted on Red, did she," I said suddenly. "Even though he found her first. Didn't they love each other?"

Gary shifted, looked at me, and exhaled, frowning. "They did," he finally said. "Red loved her more than anything in the world. Yellow loved him, too, but it's not the same, so I've heard." He looked out the window at the darkening forest that sped past us. The train rumbled below.

"It was really lucky that he found her," I said to fill the silence. "I wonder what would have happened if—"

"Yeah," he said curtly.

I didn't like to think of the macabre possibilities either. "Was he on patrol?"

"...No," Gary said. "We weren't doing patrols yet."

Double lucky, then. I'd never actually heard Red and Yellow's story. It had taken a long time for the sting of his death to leave Gary, and I hadn't had the courage to bring it up until now.

"Did they—"

"I think we're almost there," he interrupted. He sneezed three times as a woman's calm voice announced the next and final station.

"You aren't getting sick, are you?" I tried to keep my tone light.

"Don't be ridiculous," he snapped. "Vam—" The sleeping man began to stir. "I don't get sick."

On the way to the hostel, Gary was silent except for a few curt sentences. I didn't bother arguing—at this point, I was too exhausted to care. He took the top of two unoccupied bunks, and I fell into the other without bothering to change out of my clothes.

His spirit hadn't picked up by morning, and breakfast was a small, silent affair. I didn't eat much, anxious to move on. The sun was already high and bright by the time we stepped off the stoop of the hostel, but the air was still crisp.

"Down this way," he said, and he started off immediately toward the river. I jogged a few steps along the pavement to catch up.

"You know the way already?"

"I went for a walk last night."

His mouth was set in a hard line. My frustration wilted. I'd always seen not needing to sleep as a massive boon, but maybe it was a form of slow torture instead. I slipped a hand into his and gave it a squeeze, and he slowed, just barely.

As we approached the river and the center of town, small businesses and duplexes gave way to tall, mismatched apartment buildings, brick and limestone and granite, featuring wrought-iron details and dormers; pavement and asphalt gave way to cobblestone squares, canals, and tall, swaying trees. Gary, seemingly oblivious to Laverre's charm, marched on. We followed the river for some time before he pulled me down a smaller street that curved upward, bounded by narrow residential buildings. We took a sharp right into an inner courtyard, where the sounds of the city were suddenly dampened.

The courtyard was unassuming, at least relative to its neighborhood, its iron balconies draped with flowering houseplants and muted sunlight illuminating its walls evenly. Someone in one of the apartments quietly played piano, and the sound echoed discordantly around us.

A set of heavy, wooden double doors loomed directly ahead, painted red and white in broad chevron stripes, and Gary made a beeline for them. Beside them, a plaque was attached to the stone wall. Cour de justice, it read, pour les enfants de la nuit. Kalosian hadn't been my best subject in school, but even I could get the joke. Children of the night. How charming. Gary, without so much as a pause, had already set a foot on the first step of the stoop.

"Hold on," I said, pulling up short. "You've been in a crummy mood this whole time. We should work this out first."

"It's nothing," he insisted. "Let's go."

"Are you sure?"

"...It's just a bit of a headache, or something," he said. "Let's go."

He pulled himself out of my grip easily and drew open the door, holding it for me. I tried to meet his eyes, but he kept his gaze averted as we navigated to Yellow's office. Inside was noticeably colder than it had been outside in the sun, and I wrapped my arms around myself to preserve some warmth. We climbed the marble stairs in silence.

I briefly wondered if he'd already visited her on his walk last night, he so easily found his way. It was much bigger than I'd expected, and our steps echoed down empty halls of window after window, door after door. Finally, he came to a stop in front of one dark wooden door and knocked.

Yellow looked exactly the same as she had years ago when we'd seen her last. She didn't linger long, inviting us into her office with a bright smile.

The office was small, dark, and filled to the brim with files, books, and loose papers. Yellow, with her pale skin and golden blonde hair, almost seemed to glow in contrast to the dark wood paneling of the walls. They weren't depressing in their darkness—in fact, they were gorgeous, detailed with fine cut-outs and accented with gold. The floor was covered with an ancient rug whose colors had been dulled by centuries, but its intricate, perfectly symmetrical design was still impressive. Daylight shone tepidly onto it through the two windows of the office.

"I can't offer you anything to drink, unfortunately," Yellow said, but we assured her it was all right.

"It's not very busy today," Gary noted.

"Our peak business hours are between nine and three at night," Yellow said. "I'm afraid we're just not very popular during the day."

"All the better for us, then." Gary settled into one of the leather chairs in front of her desk.

"Nice place you've got here," I said as I took the other seat. I was still openly admiring the rug. "Assistant to the High Council is a cushy gig, huh."

"High Court," Yellow corrected, not meanly. "I'm working under Cabel. He has quite a brilliant mind, although I'm afraid it's rather disorganized. That's where I come in."

"You're the first Jaws to work here, aren't you," Gary said. "And the youngest, if I'm not mistaken."

Yellow beamed. "Yes," she said, "and that honor is all thanks to Grégoire's glowing recommendation to the Court. If it weren't for him, I would have never been able to do this."

"Speaking of Herriot, have you been keeping up with him?" Gary segued smoothly. "We haven't heard much lately."

"He's on sabbatical," Yellow said with a small smile. I figured it was her attempt at a joke. "Every so often he returns home to visit family."

Family, now that was a joke. Vampires never seemed like the family type.

"Where do you think we could find him?" I asked.

"The last I heard, he's still in—"

Gary suddenly fell into a coughing fit. He stood and excused him to the window, where the fit slowly resolved. He cleared his throat once more and returned to his seat. Yellow looked on in pale concern, almost alarm.

"Just a tickle in my throat," he said before I could ask if he was all right. "Sorry, go on, please."

"He should still be in Dendemille," Yellow finished.

"Dendemille," Gary repeated. "How far is that?"

"Just over two hours by train," she said. She glanced over at the clock on the wall. "I believe the next one leaves in about forty minutes, but there will be a few more today."

"Would you like to come out with us?" Gary asked, picking up on her implication. "To a café, something like that?"

"I'd love to," Yellow said, sincerity itself. "There's a delightful little place on rue d'Ivoire. I can show you a bit of the city, if you like." She looked between us for confirmation.

"That would be great," I said.

—

Sunset was yet a couple hours off as we ambled back across the bridge to the hostel, having said our farewells to Yellow, but the squat houses along the bank already glowed with the soft golden light of late afternoon. Behind us, the elegant, dark spires of the Cathédrale de Romant-sous-Bois rose above the cobbled streets and slanting roofs. The air was warm against my skin, perfumed by summer blooms. Lily pads and their gentle pink flowers, stirred by an occasional breeze, peppered the water's mirror-like surface.

What I mean to say is that it was fucking magical.

"You coming?" Gary asked. I hadn't even realized I'd stopped. Before I could move, he'd already come back and leaned over the metal rail on his elbows.

"I think it just hit me," I said, leaning beside him. "Being here. I'm here. In Kalos."

"You are," he said with obvious amusement. The wind played with his hair. "Romantic, isn't it?"

I couldn't help but agree. I lowered my chin onto my arms with a heavy exhale, and the comfortable weight of his hand settled onto my shoulder to pull us closer together. Now if there were ever a moment to stay in forever, this would be it.

"I've never left Kanto before," I admitted to the water lilies. "I mean, I've hardly even traveled much around Kanto itself. Being here feels so beyond anything I've ever done."

"Now imagine if you'd tramped out here all by yourself like you said you would," Gary said. He patted my shoulder. "You would've been completely lost without my expertise."

"Don't ruin the moment, dear."

By the time we reached the hostel, we'd resolved to leave tomorrow morning, and we squeezed ourselves into one bunk, where I slept the whole night in his embrace.

I had never felt so well-rested as I did the following morning. Gary, on the other hand, seemed to have pretty much reverted back to his sour mood from earlier.

"Headache?" I asked while we waited on the platform for the first train to Dendemille.

"Yeah," he said. He sniffed loudly and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

I let out a sound of disgust I can't accurately transcribe here. "Why would you do that? Haven't you ever heard of a tissue?"

"I've never needed a tissue, Leaf," he snapped. He snorted again.

"Voie trois, le P20 à destination de Romant-sous-Bois va partir. Prenez garde à la fermeture automatique des portes."

For a four-hour train journey, we didn't exchange very many words beyond the most perfunctory and pragmatic. It was already past noon by the time we stepped onto the platform in Dendemille, but there was a sharp chill in the air I hadn't expected at this time of year. We stopped at a bench at my insistence, and Gary stood by like an irritable watchman as I pawed through my carry-on for a sweater to slip under my jacket.

"It's—sniff—not that cold here," he said. He leaned over and zipped up the suitcase instead of waiting for me.

"That thing you've got coming on says otherwise," I replied. "Maybe you're the one who needs an extra layer." A brisk breeze swept past us, and I tucked my hands into my pockets. It really was weirdly chilly for June, but I supposed we were close to the mountains.

Dendemille Town looked to have been constructed into the sides of a hill, and the hill was crowned with several charming windmills. It was impossible to lose sight of the largest, no matter where you were in the town. We headed toward the Place Allard, the main square of the town. Not that I'd assumed we would have much time for tourism, but I'd looked into the main attractions here, and Allard figured prominently in most lists. It featured brick, gingerbread-like façades encircling a cobblestone square and a stone fountain, exactly what you might picture upon hearing "Kalos". A carousel also stood on the square year-round, and I definitely, most definitely, was not even slightly tempted to ride it. At all.

Regardless of my lack of temptation, we wouldn't make it there anyway.

We'd hardly left the neighborhood of the train station and were making our way down a smaller street when two figures approached from the other end. At first, I paid them little mind. They tucked themselves into dark clothes, typical of the sleek Kalosian style. They had clearly read the weather forecast. As the distance between us closed, however, it became obvious that their goal was not the other end of the street but us. They pulled up short, blocking our way.

"Excusez-nous," Gary said, polite in tone but clearly put off. "Nous voudrions passer." The two men exchanged a glance.

"Foreigners," the shorter of them said with a leer that sent a chill down my spine.

"In more ways than one," said the other. He looked over us both curiously. "She is clearly a human"—here Gary stepped between them and me—"but what sort of strange creature are you?"

"That's irrelevant," he said. His voice had taken on a raspiness I didn't care for one bit, and he cleared his throat to little avail. "We're looking for Grégoire Herriot."

They didn't seem to like that. Shortstack's leer vanished, replaced by a grimace. "What do you want with him?"

"That's irrelevant," Gary repeated. "Tell us where to find him."

Tall, dark, and handsome was unswayed, and he suddenly seemed much taller and much darker. "Your impertinence is astounding," he thundered through a row of razor-sharp teeth. "You miserable beings stand in the presence of ancient immortals and dare to make demands of us. You are not worthy to scrape the scum from our shoes. The wages of this audacity is death!"

"Hold it, pal," Gary said, hands raised. "No need to"—he interrupted himself with a sneeze—"no need to break out the fangs. Let's all just settle down now."

For a second, I thought their tempers might have been stayed, but that was entirely too optimistic of me.

The vampire hissed, a bone-chilling sound. "Die!" he screeched.

Something dark hurtled toward him from behind just as he began to lunge, and without warning he was on his back splayed across the ground, an easy twenty feet away. As our rescuer dusted himself off, the vampire recovered to his feet in a very undignified way. Even from here, the crack in his cheek was visible. He hissed once more, then ran off. Shortstack only needed a glance before he hightailed it out of here, too.

"Good timing," Gary said between coughs. His shoulders visibly relaxed.

"I have always hated those two miscreants," a familiar voice said. Herriot looked at us critically. "Now why have you come here?"

—

To avoid any more unwanted run-ins, Herriot brought us to his home, which turned out to be a couple of dug-out rooms beneath one of the several windmills in the north of the town. It was softly lit and noticeably warmer than outside, to the point where I needed to take off my jacket. It was like a fox den, where Herriot had hidden away his few treasures—a set of purely ornamental porcelain plates; a large, ornately framed painting of a band of men wrestling with a storm-tossed boat; and an ancient, gilded book that was easily as thick as my hand is wide. Gary and I took our seats on his leather sofa and began our story. Herriot stood by and listened, not interrupting a single time, until we finished.

"Bien," he said, shifting his weight to the other foot, "there is one thing that may be possible." Gary and I looked at each other then looked at him. "I do not know how successful it may be. It is not common."

"What are you suggesting?" Gary asked cautiously. His hand found mine.

"There is a way to transform a demi-vampire—that is to say, a dhampir—into a full vampire."

To say I was astonished would be an understatement. What (admittedly still little) I knew of vampires wouldn't have suggested that in an eternity.

"Well, that's great news!" Gary said, suddenly animated. "Let's hear it."

"It is not so easy." Herriot crossed the room to his desk, from where he retrieved the book I'd admired when we'd come in. It was almost comically massive in his arms. He leafed through it carefully, eyes scanning the pages. Finally, he came to a stop toward the end of the book. He looked up at Gary with a grim expression, face faintly illuminated from beneath as if he were some kind of macabre priest.

"Do you know where your father is?" he asked.

Gary stiffened. His hand tightened around mine, almost to the point of discomfort. "No. He left a long time ago."

"Yes," Herriot said, "I know." He closed the book. "In order to become a full vampire, you must find him, and you must drink his blood."

A/N: Hiatus? More like hi-it's been too long-us ba dum tss

So this is really embarrassing, but good God I just cannot wrap this fucking story up. It just keeps getting longer and longer and longer and

I mean I'll finish it, dammit, but did you know I originally planned to have four chapters? Look at this nonsense. 7 already and still no conclusion in sight. Send help