Chapter 33: The blessing
Objectively, Vlad was getting better at transforming from one form to the other – entirely or only in parts – which meant he might, one day, get the hang of this. He wasn't yet fast at turning, but he didn't have to focus quite as much, he simply needed to decide that he wanted to be the other and be patient. He didn't slip up and revert back – one way or the other – without meaning to anymore. The mist of black light that appeared when he shifted was turning denser, less extensive, and traveled more pointedly across his body.
he'd found an alternative for when the ears and fangs and eyes remained despite his best efforts too
Every night, in the darkness broken only by the sickly glow of his ghostly skin of the bathroom, Vlad would practice – turning, mostly.
well
every night he wasn't throwing up blood or feverish when he could
it hadn't happened that often lately but when it did
when it did
when Vlad could only spend the night remembering that retching hurt and "banzai!" no one but Ziad and Bianco and June and his family cared but he couldn't tell Bianco the truth and June wasn't there anymore and Ziad wouldn't want to take care of him if he knew and his family wasn't here and he didn't want them to know he was a walking abomination and none of this would be happening if Jack hadn't a flash of green if Jack had cared if hurts please no help if Jack Jack's fault
when Vlad had to scrounge up the blood and saliva all over the tiles because he hadn't felt that bad until he'd tried shifting and then the nausea and pain Jack's fault had hit
because he didn't want the clinic to think he was relapsing because he couldn't have them wonder why because he might maybe perhaps one day get out and a life back but for that
for that they needed to think he was doing better
and patients who were doing better weren't throwing up blood in the bathroom in the middle of the night
He hadn't reached a point where there weren't leftovers when he turned back human, but Vlad could feel that he was, in fact, getting closer. The ears, the fangs, the eyes, the hands, the torso – they were somehow more important than the rest of his ghostly body, they remained because something was important there, something was locked, and if he could understand what...
In the meantime, Vlad could try and cycle through transformations until the leftovers turned out to be something he could deal with, something he could make go away. He had his scissors and his dental forceps hidden in the walls, he could deal.
...As long as the transformations didn't tire him out too much and prevent him from cycling and getting a better deal. Vlad still couldn't figure a way out of the hands and the torso, of the skin grey and red and translucent and the lungs beneath.
sometimes
when he tried to force it when he felt desperate enough not to leave the doctors with proof of his abnormality when he was tired and aching and still tried to shift into a ghost despite it all because he couldn't deal with the hands
sometimes there were more leftovers not just the ears or the fangs or the eyes or the hands sometimes his hair remained dark at the tips floating up as if in an explosion sometimes the skin stayed blue in spots sometimes there were several of these things all at the same time
and if he tried anyway
if he didn't have the energy and still tried
then the torso and the ribcage and the lungs pulsing sluggishly appeared
and if there was one thing Vlad couldn't deal with
The hands were a problem, but at least Vlad had the excuse of the unnatural necrosis that had plagued his fingers for months while refusing to behave like normal necrosis would. If the hands remained grey and dark red and almost clawed, at least the doctors and Ziad wouldn't get in a twist about it. Sometimes, yes, sometimes Vlad would give up and leave the hands – the ghostliness would fade away as the day went on, and the doctors always concluded it was the bonded ectoplasm acting up.
relieved that it only showed up a few random days in a month now that there wasn't any eaten flesh that it was abnormal but not painful or spreading
they didn't know of course what Vlad spent his nights doing
what his ectoplasm had turned him into
People got used to the most illogical things, as long as they explained away something worse like the living corpse in Vlad Masters' room, something objectively less likely to happen than even abnormal necrosis.
In the end, Vlad only had to practice more to transform properly, of that he was certain. He didn't need to focus as much, and he didn't slip up, and it rarely took him more than a minute now. If he continued training, it might get even faster, he might not have to worry about leftovers anymore.
Practice, in the end, would bring him understanding, and with understanding he'd manage everything better.