Nightmare Come True

**The Hunted**

‘And the list of injuries is as follows;’ Janet read aloud from the Raven’s Nest, the school paper, ‘One slightly twisted ankle, four bumped heads, and the more grievous injuries of two fellow students. James Marion, who has recently returned from the Lady of Hope hospital in Oakbend, with two staples in the left zygoma (the cheek bone for those that have yet to pass A&P) and twelve stitches as part of the operation. How he sustained the break is unknown. He was found unconscious in the library and has been unable to explain his injuries. The other is Landria Lancaster, who is the victim of what is rumored to have been a savage knife attack. She has received proper treatment in house, seventy one stitches and more than one hundred butterfly bandages. (Amazing fact: the butterfly bandage, so named due to its ‘H’ and therefore ‘butterfly’ like shape, is often used when a wound is serious, but not quite enough to require a stitch)’
Janet continued, though her eggs were getting cold, ‘Though there was no positive identification of the attacker, it is known that he wielded a switchblade knife. No other attacks have been reported since last week’s blackout, and the villain is believed to have been a looter or intruder. That is what this reporter has been told. He has also been told that if he says anything more about a vampire or any other superstitious or paranormal creature, to include werewolves, changelings, aliens, and/or ghosts, that his writing privileges will be revoked. And so, I say that there is no possible way that the legendary vampiress said to have lived in this castle before it was renovated could have been involved in any way.
‘The librarian, Mr. Cain, also tells me that he found no evidence one way or the other at the scene of the assault on James Marion.’
Janet finally set down the one page news. She seemed downcast.
‘What?’ Aya stirred her coffee. She didn’t usually drink it, but dreams had been keeping her awake at night. Weird dreams.
Janet sipped from her cup of morning tea, ‘They didn’t say anything about what you said happened.’
‘I haven’t told them. And Landria hasn’t either, so I’m going to let it drop.’
Aya took a sip of her coffee. It was still hot, but cool enough to drink. And for some reason, she was drinking it straight black. No cream, no sugar. Just hot water and…
‘Miss Morgan.’ Aya turned in her seat. The headmaster himself, Motochu, stood behind her.
‘I would like to see you in my office, please.’ Motochu, hands always in his pockets, walked quietly away. Aya bolted down her coffee, grimacing at the bitter bite and the way it was still a little too hot, and slung her tote around her shoulder, quick to follow the headmaster.
Connected directly to the main hall, and without a secretary, Headmaster Motochu had a very modest office considering his station. It was just large enough for you to be comfortable, his desk, clean and ordered, his chair, which looked very comfortable, and the chair meant for Aya. It, too, looked very comfortable. Motochu gestured for her to sit. As she sat down, Aya found it exceeded her expectations.
He sat for a moment, leaned back in his chair, looking as if he might nap, eyes closed and hands clasp loosely across his belly. It didn’t bulge much, but it was there when he relaxed in the chair.
Aya looked around, trying not to be nervous. Had James recognized her? Was she going to be expelled?
‘I suppose you are nervous?’ Motochu asked. He sounded almost drowsy. He did not open his eyes, but his chair turned slightly to one side. It tipped back and suddenly, the headmaster’s feet were propped up on his desk. ‘I would be.’ His tone was still slow and sleepy. ‘You are the first student to ever see my office. And probably the last.’ One eye opened slowly. ‘Oh, I did not bring you here for some lecture or to bring ill fortune down upon you, Miss Morgan.’ Aya let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding.
‘Rather, I was hoping you might tell me something…’ He let the sentence trail away.
‘I thought I should take the class of swordplay through dance so I could get my credit in theater. I have always thought that a good dancer should be able to use any prop.’ Aya watched, but Motochu didn’t even change his breathing rhythm. ‘It was also a very empty class, so I’ll be able to know my classmates very well and I should be able to learn the dance motions well.’
The eyebrows arched, ‘That is very interesting, Miss Morgan. And answers much.’
Aya forced herself to relax. The chair absorbed her soundlessly. ‘I do not usually drink coffee, Miss Morgan.’ Motochu spoke slowly, and Aya noticed how his voice seemed to roll, like slow ocean swells. ‘It is hard to be calm, for me, when I drink too much coffee. I much prefer soft drinks.’ He chuckled, ‘Though I do have one, very nasty habit.’ Motochu lifted one hand and opened a desk drawer. He raised his head a little and pulled a pack of cigarettes from the drawer. He shifted one out and plucked it from the pack with his lips, never a quick movement among them.
Aya was gaping from her seat. Here was the headmaster, the icon of the school authority, and he was going to smoke. In front of a student.
He chuckled as he observed her reaction, ‘Miss Morgan, I believe that a person is going to do exactly what they want, when they want. And when you want them to do something as a favor for you, you must do something for them yourself first.’
Aya watched as he set the pack on his desk, noticed how they seemed to belong there, and tried to light a match from a paper book.
‘And what do you want me to do, Headmaster Motochu?’
She watched as he broke a third match, ‘Damn…’ he then dropped the book on the desk, ‘I’m trying to quit anyway.’
Aya had her turn to chuckle as she fished into her tote and pulled out her lighter. She handed it to the headmaster with a fool’s grin. ‘It is improper to sour the grapes on the vine, Headmaster.’
He chuckled himself before accepting the lighter and lighting his cigarette. He handed it back with a slow ease and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. ‘How much do you smoke, Miss Morgan?’
Aya struck a flame and watched it dance, ‘Actually, I don’t smoke, Headmaster. I just find it a convenient thing to carry.’ She looked past the flame at him, ‘Don’t you agree?’
The headmaster was not watching her anymore, his eyes were closed and he had pulled an ashtray from the desktop toward him.
‘I think I do agree, Miss Morgan. And so I will tell you, I have asked you here so that we may be frank with one and other.’ He pulled the flashlight out of the open drawer and set it on the desktop, beside the ashtray.
He took a long draw on his cigarette, blowing a ring of smoke into the air. ‘It is familiar, isn’t it?’
Aya eyed the device carefully. She was quite relaxed. She looked at the way the bulb housing was round, and then the way it changed direction suddenly, the aluminum cracked and bent. The lens was gone and the switch was left on, but the broken bulb was dark.
‘Yes,’ Aya said slowly, ‘That is the one.’
Motochu sighed as he stretched and settled himself a little deeper into his chair, his feet propping back up on his desk, ‘And if I said ‘May I ask what happened’, you would say, ‘Yes, you may’, so I will skip that little joke. I would like to know what happened to this flashlight. And I ask you, because, I think you know.’
Aya wondered if it were too late to change her mind and clam up. ‘I hit James Marion with it.’ The words slipped from her lips as she yawned, as if she were drugged. The sudden admission shocked her back to where she was, what she had said, and how she felt when she had first arrived.
But Motochu instead took the last drag from his cigarette and dropped it into a snuffer. Just a ceramic cone with a hole drilled through the center. He laced his fingers behind his head and the chair lilted back a little further. ‘He was chasing after Landria and I had grabbed her and pulled her away. She had on one shoe and was making a terrible noise as she ran. All that loud noise was why he had been able to follow her. And when we stopped, I saw she was cut up, like he’d had a few good minutes to chase her before she got away far enough to keep from getting swiped. And when we stopped making noise, he stopped too.’ Aya thought on it, knowing now that it was too late to go back, ‘He probably saw the light halo and before we could go very far, he had snuck up on us. I had turned to tell Landria to take off the noisy shoe and when she ducked, James was behind her with his knife up. So I jumped over Landria and whacked James with the flashlight. He dropped like a load of bricks and as soon as we were sure he wasn’t dead, I took Landria back to the girls’ dorm.’
Motochu sighed, as if he were taking the information much more slowly than Aya was telling it. Like each word was waiting in line at his ear to get in.
‘And you never told Headmistress Lanning?’
Aya hung her head, ‘No. At first because I was in front of Landria. I didn’t know if she knew. And then later because… I just didn’t.’ Aya looked up, into the flame of her lighter. She slowly snapped it shut and dropped it into her tote.
‘Do you know why students do not smoke in class?’ Motochu was totally undisturbed. When Aya waited too long, he continued, ‘I believe it is because there are no ashtrays. We have no rules, really.’ He paused again. ‘And if we did have any, we have no way of enforcing them.’
‘So why does everyone wear a uniform?’ Aya felt herself beginning to relax again.
Motochu shrugged, ‘They aren’t really very uniform. Long socks, short shirts, slacks, vests, blazers, jackets. None have the school’s icon, just the same general color to them; blue bottom, white top, black shoes, blue jacket or vest. And the colors are very simple. It was just what a photographer put in the brochure.’
Motochu sighed again. ‘Each student has their own idea of their uniform, but the teachers care only that you get a passing grade and that the peace is kept.’
Aya waited a moment, ‘Am I going to be punished?’
Motochu opened the one eye, ‘For defending yourself and your friend? That would be wrong, I think.’
‘And you take it on my word without knowing what the others have to say?’ Aya tried to keep her tone even and floating, but failed. Her words were sharp. But the headmaster didn’t stir.
‘I see a girl with many wounds, a bloodied switchblade knife, a broken flashlight, a boy with his face busted in, and a story that ties it all down tight.’ Motochu took a slow breath, ‘The truth tends to have that effect on anything you have to say.’
Aya waited a moment longer.
‘And Miss Morgan.’
Aya turned her attention to the headmaster who seemed to be dangerously close to dozing off.
‘The first bell is due to ring in a moment. If you are tardy…’
And the bell rang. The heavy gong that sounded four tones in a single, monochrome fashion.
Motochu waved her away. ‘Remember what I said about ashtrays and do try to quit smoking. It is a very expensive habit.’

Aya pondered deeply what it was Motochu had been saying through her classes. She was supposed to be brainstorming for a report on how people acted and reacted. Psychology was interesting, but trying to get inside of someone else’s head when her own was tangled with so much seemed daunting.
‘For a warm up, I want you all to find a role player and interview them as if you were speaking to the character they play.’ Aya looked up at the break in the near silent classroom.
‘You will then cross reference their replies with real world happenings. Try to identify why it was they picked the particular race and class that they selected. If possible, sit in on a few of their sessions. I want a reasonably accurate report of their state of well being and any notable personality traits they extend.’
Aya reflected on how she played out as Razor. She had just sort of winged it. Done what felt natural.
A hand picked up, ‘What would be the real world application of this?’
‘You will be forming a professional view of a nearly random person from scratch.’
‘And how many goblins will we get to meet?’ A voice called out, followed closely by a snicker.
The professor crossed his arms with a nearly angry expression on his face, ‘In an environment free of natural consequences, people tend to play closer to their true colors. If the right motives and scenarios are lined up, some people can solve serious life problems through such games. Others use this method to get a closer look at the underlying structure of a person’s nature.’
The professor moved to the board and began to write, ‘You will see how the unwritten laws bind people into the roles they have adopted for everyday life. The boy in sample case number two is a quiet introvert. He has a few close friends, no girlfriend, and does his homework because he enjoys learning. But he goes to his role playing board. Suddenly he is no longer meek. He is a warlock in a well known band of proud warriors. He has a dragon that obeys his will like a well trained dog. Note, however, that he is still introverted. And that his character spends a great deal of time researching his spell list. In battle, he stands near the side of the field, usually near cover. But when he discovers an opportunity, he strikes his foes with a decisive blow. Doing no more than necessary and so being somewhat unknown though his presence is critical to their success. His fellow travelers trust him and so he trusts them. They are close knit and unified.’
He looked back at the class, ‘Not unlike reality in which his friends are who he leans on and is leaned on in return.’
Students looked around, nodding.
The bell rang and chairs shuffled as bags were hauled up and bodies, urged on by their near empty stomachs and heads full to bursting, headed for the dining hall for a late lunch.
Aya remained for a moment. The professor regarded her with his usual scanning eye, head tipped to one side and arms crossed, as if she were on display.
‘Yes?’ She looked back at him. At the way he looked at her. She returned the gaze. Her chin rested on her hand and she took a long look at him. Like drinking cold water. A little at a time and with great care. His feet were spaced just so, the weight of his body leaned casually on his left foot while the right kicked out and pointed away. His arms were crossed, but relaxed. A sign of his being drawn inward. His head tilted, thinking, no doubt. His eyes were slightly unfocused, as if watching all of her at once. They watched one and other for a moment. He shifted his weight, swiveling his feet so that the load bearing foot was forward. Uncomfortable? No. His head was listing the other way now. His foot was tired.
Aya suddenly realized she had tipped her head to follow the cant of his body, to keep it firmly locked in her vision. He was still casually leaned, as if this were normal. No signs of discomfort at all.
Aya gave up and reached for her bag.
‘Disappointed?’
‘Huh?’
The professor pulled a brown bag from his desk drawer and drew a can of cola from it, ‘You frowned before looking away. Any relevancy?’ He popped the can open and took a drink, grimacing as the carbonation fizzed in his throat.
‘You just seemed so easygoing about being scrutinized.’
He huffed, half a smile on his lips, ‘It happens about once a week. Someone tries to shrink me and goes away disappointed. Though you gave it a good run.’
Aya stood and sighed, ‘I didn’t mean to shrink you… I don’t know what I was doing, but I just didn’t get what I was looking for.’
He nodded, ‘I hope it works better on your next victim. Though for most people that would have had them in paranoid fits. I’ve never been held under the knife that long before.’
‘What do you mean, ‘paranoid fits’?’ Aya paused at the door.
The professor looked at her over his cola, ‘The only other creature to have given me such a thorough look was my grandmother’s cat. And if you had so much as thought about sneaking a cookie, he knew about it and let you know he knew.’ He sipped again, ‘That particular gaze is… almost predatory.’
Aya held the knob for a moment, absorbing this into her thoughts.
‘Extra credit if you can get close to what I was thinking.’
Aya grinned, ‘You were open minded. Being toyed with and toying back. You had no clear thought, but were merely enjoying the game.’
He nodded, ‘Very good. Very close. Not dead center, but a good place to start. I’ll give you points for that.’
Aya nodded, ‘I’ll have to do better in the future.’ and left before he could reply again. Her afternoon was free. She could take all afternoon to interview someone. But she would do that later. There was someone else she had to find.

Aya tried to retrace her steps from the night she had run into Cain. She found the map that had nearly been her last fall. It was the only one that had been hung so high up with the frame that heavy. She then let her feet wander, hoping to trip over the dead end.
Twice she came around full circle.
‘Damn!’ Aya stomped, unable to punch anything. ‘Where they hell did she go!’
‘Who?’ Aya looked at the end of the row. The painter girl stood with a bag over her shoulder. The bag was fashioned from an old pair of jeans and brushes stuck out of one of the pockets.
‘You!’
‘Me?’
Aya walked over quickly, never taking her eyes off of the girl. ‘Who the hell are you?’
The girl smiled, ‘I suppose you’d like to hear some long drawn out ordeal in which the whole universe is laid out like a picnic blanket and all of your problems are solved, eh?’
Her smile vanished, replaced with a hard look. ‘Well that isn’t going to happen. I am Avalawen. I paint. I’ve lived here for a very long time and I intend to live here a very long time yet.’
Aya held the girl in a heavy gaze. ‘That isn’t all there is. You have more you want to say.’
It was a long shot. But worth playing. Aya watched the girl’s whole body. Searching for a weakness. She stood squarely. Everything about her was taking all the weight and playing it straight down.
Her eyes were not those of a young girl, but of something with great depth. Such great depth…
‘I could use some help with my new painting. If you are willing.’ Avalawen turned away and began walking slowly. Her footfalls were silent and barely disturbed the dust upon which her slow stride carried her.
Aya followed, conscious of her own loud footsteps. She kept careful track of the turns as they made their way nearly straight back.
The girl rounded a corner and doubled back around the end. Aya came around as well and looked in wonder at the door that was sitting in plain view. A beam of light slipped down from one of the afternoon windows and rested half splashed against the walls and gathering in a warm puddle on the floor. The door opened with a slight push and Aya followed the strange girl into the room.
The door swung shut with a weak groan and a soft latching sound behind her
She peeked around the corner of the room.
Avalawen was unpacking her paints and brushes from the denim tote, a canvas rested against the wall. A bright silvery moon washed thick beams of light through a stonework window. Everything was done with photographic realism, with the exception of the blank portion where a person would have been sitting or leaning against the window.
Aya watched as her host perched a fresh canvas on an easel. She poured out colors on a palette and began to scratch at the canvas with her brushes.
Aya sat on the bed, pushed against the wall with one knee hugged to her chest. She quickly decided she would wait for the painter girl to bring up the subject.
A long time passed, the scratch of the brushes and the occasional swirl of water the only sounds.
‘So, will you be going to the dance tomorrow night?’
Aya focused her eyes. She had been lost in blank thoughts, vaguely watching the way the girl’s body swayed as she painted. ‘I suppose. I had forgotten all about it.’
Another few moments of silence.
‘Will you be going, Avalawen?’
‘Please, call me Aval, and no.’
‘Why not?’
‘I am neither staff nor student. And I imagine it will just be a grand bore.’ Aval looked around the canvas, ‘I’m not one much for large gatherings.’
‘I can sympathize.’
‘Are you one for folklore?’
Aya looked at her host, tipping her head to one side. ‘Folklore?’
‘Legends and tales and myths. Things of that nature.’ Aval didn’t pause her painting, but a large portion of her attention was on Aya.
‘Like what that guy is always writing about in the school paper? Trying to implicate a vampire for beating the hell out of James Marion and prowls the library. I think there is some truth to some of it, sometimes.’
Aval bit the end of her brush, gazing blankly at the canvas.
‘Have you ever tried talking to him?’
Aya stretched, ‘I did once, but the way his left eye is… All white. It’s really unnerving.’
Aval resumed her work, scratching a new patch with a different color and brush.
‘And the way he locks you in with that eye…’ Aya shivered, ‘It just makes people uneasy.’
‘Only those with something to hide.’
Aya checked her watch. ‘Almost time for dinner…’
‘Oh! Speaking of…’ Aval looked back to Aya as she dunked a brush into the jar of water, ‘Would you like to join me for lunch day after tomorrow?’
‘Why not? Where? When?’
‘Meet me on the front steps around noon.‘ Aval smiled, ‘I’ll come get you.’

Saturday morning came to reveal overcast clouds threatening rain. The halls were abuzz with the excitement for the dance.
And while waiting on the front stairs for Aval, Aya tested the theory on ashtrays. She sat, cigarette burning in hand with an ashtray next to her tote beside her.
Most of the passing students gazed openly at her. Some shocked, others scrutinizing. It took a few hours, but one teacher, a woman she didn’t recognize, passed. She looked down at Aya as the girl flicked her ashes and nodded as she walked by. The great doors groaned shut and Aya snuffed the smoke.
‘How far can these rules we’ve been following be pushed?’
‘As far as one is willing to test them.’ Aya looked over. Thomas Harding, author of the Raven’s Nest, sat beside her.
‘I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there.’
‘It’s no problem.’ He rested back on the steps. And then the white eye was brought around, contrasting violently with his dark right eye. He looked her over with that eye.
‘You’ve changed.’ He said it simply, as if she had asked him.
Aya looked down at her arms, checking her hands. ‘I have?’
Thomas gazed at the sky before closing his eyes. ‘Most people think I’m half blind. That my eye is dead and useless as glass. Some think otherwise.’ He chuckled, ‘Mostly those that I’ve seen to the bottom of. There are a lot of very shallow people. But a few know the truth.’
‘The truth?’
‘I can see what others might think they notice, but only the closest friends. I can see into the depths of a person. See their true colors.’ His eyes were still closed.
‘Some people change quite a bit. Others never change. A few evolve as they grow, changing by shades until they are new.’
‘And?’
He looked at her from the side, his dark eye watching her, ‘You have changed in nature. You are different from what you once were. But your colors are the same. So you haven’t changed who you are.’
Aya stared at him, ‘Huh?’ She shook her head, ‘What the hell are you saying? I’m different but haven’t changed?’
Thomas got up, fixing her with the white eye as he rolled over to put his arms under him, ‘You aren’t the only one to change. Keep both eyes on your fan club.’ And he walked away ignoring Aya’s shouts.
‘What?’ She called after him, ‘Who? Why?’
He simply waved over his shoulder.
On the stairs beside her sat another of the postcards. This one was also of her. She sat on a bed, the blanket pulled up over her knees, one foot sticking out delicately, and draped over her shoulders. Her hair was loose and disheveled, her eyes closed. She was probably sleeping.
And behind her loomed a figure outlined by a beam of silvery white moonlight. A hood in a gray fabric obscured all features except a bold red slash, about the center and running to the left and up in a slow arc, as if it followed the face that was hidden. A hand covered in polished steel held a rod that glinted moonlight. The robe exposed the legs of the man, that it was a man was of little doubt, and they were clad in lustrous chain mail.
She looked back up the stairs. He was gone. As quickly as he had come. She turned the card over, but it was blank. She pulled a marker from her own bag and signed the card.
‘Who’s Parric?’
Aya leapt at the sound of the new voice. Aval stood on the step above her, peering down at the card.
‘Just a friend of mine. Do you want to sign it too?’ Aya offered up the pen and card.
Aval shrugged and whipped a quick signature on the card beneath Aya’s. ‘If we run into Parric, let me know and I’ll sign the first one as well.’
Aya nodded. ‘So where are we going? The bus isn’t going until next weekend.’
‘I’m meeting with an old friend a short ways down the road and I thought you would like to meet her as well. She’s the one that publicizes my artwork to the rest of the world.’
Avalawen hopped down the stairs, the old pair of pants turned bag over her shoulder.
Aya shouldered her own and followed, checking her watch.
No one crossed the duo as they walked away from the school and after a nearly silent hour, Avalawen turned off of the paved road onto a dirt trail. They quickly vanished behind a thick screen of trees and brush and dropped into a dry wash bed. The wash was covered in thick green grass and a large boulder with a flat top seemed to be the meeting place, as an older woman with long white hair sat upon it. She gestured to the arriving pair with a tall brown bottle and drank from it.
‘I was wondering what held you up. Have a drink and tell me all about yourself Miss Morgan.’
Aya paused. ‘I suppose Aval has already spoken much of me?’
‘Some.’ The woman smiled, ‘But not enough.’
Avalawen had climbed onto the boulder and pulled a bottled from the cooler, the lid lifting into sight.
Aya took a running start and leapt up. She palmed the top and stood on the high foot.
She looked back down at the ground. It had been a decent jump. She settled down and accepted an opened bottle from Aval.
‘Why are you looking at me like that?’ Aya switched her eyes from one concerned gaze to the other.
‘You didn’t strike me as the athletic type…’ The woman took a sip from her drink, her eyes looking deep into Aya.
‘Not terribly, but I’m not out of shape.’ Aya sipped. It was as the dark bottle suggested, alcohol of some sort. Aya forced her face to straighten the wrinkles out, ‘Tastes like someone left a handful of nails in the bottom of this one.’
‘Oh, sorry.’ The woman brushed her hair from her face, ‘I brought some pop if you would prefer.’
‘It’s alright. Just surprising.’ Aya took another shallow swig, ‘And it’s rude to open one and then leave it to waste.’
Aval laughed, ‘At least she’s well mannered!’
‘Hear hear.’ The woman held her bottle out. They clinked and took a drink.
A bag of pretzels was open on the rock and Aya helped herself to a small handful. ‘We all know I’m Aya, who do you happen to be?’
‘Vanessa Reagent. But my friends call me Ness.’
Aya pondered as she chewed on the salt crusted snacks.
‘How did you happen upon Aval? She isn’t exactly a social creature.’
‘I was trying to get lost at the time.’
Aval stole a pretzel, ‘She managed it too. That library is chaos unless you have a map and happen to know exactly where you are.’
‘Then it’s only a labyrinth.’ Aya laughed. She could feel the drink coursing in her veins and forced herself to slow down. Unless she wanted to get drunk where she sat. ‘So how long have you two know each other?’
They exchanged a look, ‘A little longer than I would like to admit.’ The woman replied, ‘To say would reveal just how old I really am.’
‘Sixty-five?’
The others laughed.
‘So how is your rival doing?’ Ness took another long draught.
Aya tipped her head to one side, ‘Who?’
Ness opened her mouth, but Aval coughed and she snapped shut.
‘I think she means Landria.’ Aval put in, hand still covering her mouth.
Aya shrugged, ‘I am not going to compete with her over anything that isn’t already mine.’ She misjudged the bottle and a trickle escaped from the corner of her mouth before she recovered.
‘Sorry,’ She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, ‘Hole in my lip.’ She chuckled and reaffirmed the mental note to drink more slowly.
She observed the liquid on the back of her hand, as if impressed by it. It was a dark red and fairly frothy, like the dark brews. ‘What’s this made from?’
‘We don’t know really,’ Aval cut in quickly, ‘But it does seem a little strong.’
Aya let her pull the half empty bottle from her hand, ‘We ought to get headed back or you’ll be late getting ready for the dance.’
Aya nodded, ‘Yeah. Being late would suck. Parric might go with Landria.’ Aya had another pretzel before getting up. And then she weaved a small bit, the world around her squishing around. ‘One too many…’ She burped quietly and excused herself.
With the soft grass beneath her feet, Aya looked back up at the boulder. It seemed much higher now. Closer to seven or eight feet rather than the four she would have sworn it really was.
‘Really had one too many. That stuff’s brutal…’
Aya walked steadily, forcing the effects of the drink down as they went. ‘I can’t believe I got toasted by half of one…’ she muttered to herself. Aval laughed and hugged her as they turned back onto the paved road.

Janet held the curling iron steady as Aya surveyed the remodel of her facial color. A touch of highlight on her cheeks with a light flash of darker tone in the hollows of her cheeks changed the way her complexion was delivered. It made her look older and a touch pale. But wearing the pastel violet dress balanced the loss of color.
Janet wore an old dress in a deep forest green. It forced the gold in her hair to the surface and pulled the color out of her skin, making her fairer than she really was.
‘We are looking good.’ Janet smiled and opened the iron. The spiral curl bounced out and rested on Aya’s temple. It was just the one on the left. The dress strap on the left had broken, so they clipped it and quickly sewed it under. Now with only one strap, they had to lean something to balance the image. And improvised sash held a hidden pin that bunched the skirt of the dress to knee high on the right and sloped over her hip. With long gloves, Aya felt she was ready.
Janet picked up her shawl, passing the rings on the corners onto her hands and propping the width on her shoulders. A deep black velvet, it was almost the perfect contrast to the glossy dark green.
A knock on their door started them both. Aya opened the door and let a full force smile beam out. Parric and the boy she knew only as ‘Jak the mage’ stood in the hall.
‘Hello.’
Parric nodded and presented his flowers. A black rose made of feathers and a pair of white carnations.
Jak smiled as Janet stepped toward him, ‘For you,’ He handed over a single stem upon which three snapdragons grew. Each one was a dark purple.
‘Thank you.’ Janet tucked them behind her ear and took the offered arm.
Parric adjusted his black vest, the ridiculously wide lapels twitching, ‘Pomp and circumstance, shall we go before they spike the punch too heavily?’
They began down the hall, Jak’s deep red cloak rustling loudly.
‘I love the theme this year,’ A familiar voice came from a short ways ahead, ‘Fantasy characters allows for such variety in costume.’ The words came from a girl who was speaking with Malgondion. Her hair was short and as black as night and she looked like a greek or roman wearing a toga wrapped at the waist with a belt of gold. The stocking boots and ultra long gloves seemed a little extreme, but they held true to the form of the person beneath. A form that was not unpleasant to behold.
‘Hello Aya!’ The girl turned and Aya stopped.
‘Landria! Your hair!’
The other shook her head, tossing the straight locks, ‘I decided I need a change. So I pulled the volume out and dyed it. What do you think?’
Mal hesitated a moment before cutting in, ‘Parric, could you help me out? I need to get some flowers real fast.’ He thumbed over his shoulder and jerked his head.
Jak also hesitated, a twisted scowl flashing up and vanishing before he started again, ‘Let’s hurry, Janrel. We don’t want to miss the early door prizes.’
Janet resisted a moment, but left, throwing a curious look over her shoulder.
Parric also scowled, but left as Mal hurried away.
Aya stepped to the other side of the hall and leaned next to the window. ‘And so?’
Landria crossed her arms, as if trying to fend off a chill, her face turned away and her eyes closed.
Her words were hesitant as if forced out and trying to avoid tears, ‘I know what I suspect. And I know what is lie. But tell me the truth, alright?’
‘I won’t say that I don’t lie,’ Aya tensed, ‘But I don’t deceive people.’
‘James said he was looking for me in the library, that he saw me go in.’ She rested her back to a curtain on the wall, ‘I went in there to wait out the night. Actually I was hoping you were in there someplace.’ Landria looked up, her eyes were tear stained and getting worse. The gloves and boots did a good job of covering the long wounds.
‘I wanted to know what it was you thought you were doing. Back then it seemed like you were out to tear me down. But then I was attacked. And the only person to come to my aid was you. And I thank you for that. I really do…’
‘It was no big deal.’
‘But what I want to know now is a piece of the truth that only you know. Who was it that you fought off that night?’ Landria shook her head, holding her face, ‘No, just tell me if it was James or not. That’s all that’s important.’
The crying eyes locked with her own as Landria looked up..
Aya felt the words catch as she tried to form them. Most of her wanted to just lay it out in the open with cold, brutal light, but a shard in the bottom of her heart held the words down. All that happened was Aya lowered her eyes. One hand gripped the other elbow and her stance shifted in nervous silence.
Landria went to pieces. She turned away sobbing as quietly as someone can, face buried in the red curtain.
Aya realized she could smell the tears, the grief in the air.
She regretted being on the far side of the hall and stepped behind the girl. She rested her hands on the shaking shoulders and squeezed gently. ‘I’m sorry.’
With a sniffled and a deep sigh, Landria turned back around. Her makeup was still intact, though there were two wet marks on the curtain.
‘Thank you.’ Landria hugged her, ‘You’re probably the last person I can really trust here.’
They seperated and Landria wiped her eyes, ‘It’s just… in a week I went from the popular girl with everything to… well, that girl no one talks to or about. James made love to me one day and then ignored me the next. All my friends… weren’t my friends.’
Aya nodded and slowly began walking toward the main hall.
‘The only person to even approach me was Jeffery.’ Landria laughed, ‘He said that he noticed I’d stopped eating. And he had a bag lunch with him.’
Aya let her ramble. She seemed to be loosening up and relaxing. ‘Wait… who?’
‘Jeffery, Mason. The boy I was with in the hall. He’s one of Parric’s friends.’
‘Oh, Mal! Sorry, I’ve never heard him called by his real name.’
Landria began again, ‘Anyway, it was the first I’d eaten in a couple of days and I had most of his lunch. It was just that he was the only person that seemed to care.’
Landria looked Aya square in the eye, ‘I’ve spent the last few days taking stock of myself and those that call me their friend. I want you to know that I owe you. Not just the friendship you have given me, even though I was cruel to you before, but a debt for saving me from becoming an empty person. And for saving me from James. And I don’t think I could ever repay you for all that.’
‘It’s alright.’ Aya didn’t break the tie their eyes held, ‘I’m sure you would have done the same, if you had the chance.’
A shade of doubt passed behind Landria’s eyes, but a light from even deeper shone forth. She nodded and turned her eyes forward, ‘I will.’
Landria’s stance grew an inch, her shoulders drifted back, her stride found the familiar sway.
Aya smiled to herself, watching someone’s pride return was like watching a flower bloom in fast forward.

Parric and the others waited outside the doors , Jeffery with a small bunch of flowers in hand.
He nervously pinned them on Landria’s toga and Aya took Parric’s arm. The walked through the doors and into the festival.
A hundred gods and goddesses, heroes and damsels, knights and princesses. The punch bowl was perhaps a fifteen gallon dish and a light from within illuminated the fruit chunks within as they drifted lazily. A dozen spigots saw periodic use and one of the professors handed out cups. That he was also guarding the drink fountain was certain.
Seated on a stool, Motochu was dressed in what had to be a samurai’s armor. He was holding a cup of punch in one hand as the other played over the hilt of the sword on his hip. The teachers were scattered about, all in costume, and a few, it seemed, here for the party.
‘Well hello, Landria.’ The high tone to the voice declared that it belonged to someone who believed they were important.
Aya turned. James stood beside the girl. He had a gauze patch on his cheek and wore a white button down shirt and black slacks. The cut seemed to be something from an old kung-fu movie. His date hung on his arm as if the were inseparable. The dress was from a similar era, though it was cut to an extreme severity.
‘Tanya.’ Landria slipped in under Jeffery’s arm.
‘James.’ Jeffery nodded to the sports star.
James frowned, ‘You seem familiar.’ It was short and curt. And cold.
Jeffery shrugged, ‘I get that a lot. I was starting string before you were.’
‘Offence or defense?’
‘Both.’ Jeffery smiled.
James scowled even harder, ‘You’re the loser that quit. Too bad. The game too much for you?’
‘No. I just found better things to do with my time.’
‘I would have loved to have taken the position from you.’
‘You would have tried.’
James sneered, ‘You think you could take me, boy?’
Jeffery smiled and led Landria away toward the punch.
Janet and Jak had vanished and left Aya and Parric to contend with the new popular couple.
‘Parric, was it?’
‘I’m surprised you remembered.’
The music lulled and the crowd in the dance area milled as they waited for the next treat.
‘And Aya.’ James held her in his eyes. She could see deeply into them. And all she could see was hate. He pulled the gauze patch from his face and the deep red scar beneath was revealed. It followed the line of bone under his eye from near his nose to where the bone ridge flowed away toward the ear. Halfway to his ear it stopped, adding weight to his glare.
Aya turned to Parric, ‘I’m kind of thirsty. Could you…?’
He nodded and walked, only glancing back once.
James pulled his arm from Tanya’s grasp and pushed her away, ‘Go find your friends and gossip or something.’
Tanya looked from James to Aya, a half formed pout on her lips. She glanced back at James briefly before leaving.
‘Looks like you forgot your flashlight.’
‘And you dropped your knife.’
James ran two fingers over the scar. The skin twitched around the half healed wound and his fingers came back misted with thin blood.
‘I can see what you’ve become.’ James spoke softly, ‘And with God on my side, I will lay you to rest!’
Aya felt a presence walking up to the side, but didn’t dare break from James’ gaze. Matching him with equal malice.
‘I don’t know what trip you’re on, but reality is a slightly different place than where you are.’
‘Now, now.’ Aya and James both snapped their attention to Thomas. His costume was that of a monk done in a dark brown and white yen yang. Aya was on the side with the white eye and felt it’s gaze slip over her. ‘Let’s not go around trying to compare perceptions. Reality is really far to fickle.’
Thomas focused his attention on Aya a moment. As if taking stock in her. Then he turned to James. James glared at him, but stood under his scrutiny.
‘You’ve changed a great deal, James.’ Thomas closed his eyes.
James glared down at the boy with mismatched eyes. ‘You ought to leave before something bad happens to you.’
‘Very well.’ Thomas held his hands up, looking very monk like, ‘You don’t have to threaten me twice.’
He opened his eyes and looked between the two. ‘Just beware the future. And beware yourselves.’
James looked down at Aya, stepping closer to her.
‘Prepare yourself for a prelude of things to come. Monday night.’
James glanced up and walked away, heading for the castle.
Aya looked in the direction James had glanced in. Mistress Lanning was coming over, and dressed as a priestess in some obscure cult. ‘Would you care to explain yourself?’
Aya looked back at James, but he was gone, the door he had passed through slowly closing in his wake.
‘How so?’ Aya tried to look innocent.
Lanning let the unamused face show, ‘There have been some weighty exchanges going on over this small patch of grass this evening, Miss Morgan.’
Aya sighed, ‘I think he’s still mad at me about turning him down…’
Lanning sighed slowly, trying to divine the real truth. Aya accepted the cup of punch Parric brought her and the pair left to dance to some song Lanning couldn’t recall having heard before.
She took Headmaster Motochu’s advise and got a cup of punch herself. And poured a generous portion of bourbon into it. Also par the headmaster’s advise.

Aya readjusted her papers. The screen table was running and the model of the town Solarin’s group was visiting was presented. She and her comrades were a little different, however. Their characters were tinged purple. A group of three stood at the far side of the one street town. They were tainted blue. And across the table sat James, now Von Helsong, six of his cronies, Trent, Cloud, Roy, Galdran, Seth and Denam, and one poor kid that had gotten stuck in the group, a healer by the name of Orlang. For a group of warriors, Helsong’s men were good. Helsong himself was a battle mage and powerful in his own right.
‘Good Evnin’ an’ welcome.’ Cain sat at the head of the table. ‘I am certain all of ye know why ye all are here. The war priest Von Helsong has opening challenged Solarin. This is a battle a’tween the two parties.’
Cain looked at each party member, ‘Each of ye can bow out a’fore tha firs’ blows are exchanged.’
No one moved. Orlang shifted nervously in his seat, but said nothing.
Jeffery cleared his throat, ‘This will prove to be the most interesting thing to happen in Glitterglen since the last pixie migration.’

‘Enough banter!’ Helsong shouted. The thin dust in the street clouding the alleys between the clapboard buildings. ‘Draw steel or lay down and die!’
Razor felt the silver dagger at her back heat up. It seemed to respond to her mood. Her less human times tended to make her more sensitive to the weapon’s presence.
Without conscious command, both parties began to walk toward one and other. Helsong’s men were all decked out in polished plate. The healer behind them shook as he walked.
Razor checked Janrel. She was resolute, her staff held in firm hands. Of course she had been under Jak’s tutelage recently, so she probably had a fancy trick up her sleeve.
Mal had his bow in hand, but his fighting knife was between his teeth.
Tiny tongues of flame licked at the tips of Jak’s fingers and the dust swirled around his feet.
Solarin had his sword drawn and held at his side, his free hand covered in a thin layer of frost.
Razor drew her sword and turned her attention to Shmall. His great hammer was propped over his shoulder, a smile on his face.
‘Fear none, Razor. Shmall look after you. Boss look after you. Janny look after you. Jak look after you. Mal look after you.’ He patted Razor on the shoulder, ‘We no let death come for you today. Just keep eye on own neck and friend’s back. You do good. You strong.’
Razor returned the ogre’s smile, ‘Thank you, Shmall.’
The seven warriors drew their great swords in unison, the synchronized cry of steel matching their drum like march.
‘Outnumbered by two, but we have more balance.’ Solarin spoke softly, ‘Fight smarter, not harder.’
‘Charge!’ Helsong rushed, the six warriors fanning into a wedge formation and coming in fast.

‘Casting wall of brimstone.’ Jak threw a successful roll.
‘Countering wall of brimstone.’ James smiled as he dropped his dice.

The wall of fire leapt from the ground, but the warriors passed through the flames unharmed, their armor glowing blue where the mystical fire had lapped at it.
Mal loosed an arrow that found it’s mark. Orlang cried out as the projectile pierced his heart.
Helsong slowed his charge as he began casting, his footmen rushing ahead. Solarin, Razor and Shmall all met the attackers.
A blast of cold knocked one of Solarin’s back as his blade blocked a heavy blow.
Shmall knocked both back with a single blow, his hammer making a wide arc and coming back to rest in his hands, ready for more.
Razor spun her sword in her hands and readied herself. The first came at her from overhead as the other swiped at her feet. She dropped to one knee, blocking the low strike with her sword and swiped at the falling sword, knocking the high strike aside.
And then the ground beneath her heaved and locked around her foot and leg.

‘Razor’s sword an’ legs are trapped by tha liquid earth spell.’ Cain delivered the results impassively.
The next phase of combat began. Mal sent a second arrow at the staggering Orlang. The second arrow a deathblow. Orlang hung his head as his character was proclaimed dead. James glared at him, his lip curling.

Trapped in the soil, Razor tugged at her sword, but it, too was bound tightly.
The whistle of feathers screamed at her as an arrow found a resting place in an opening in the armor plates. Blood flowed from the wound and Razor could barely contain the urge to reach out to drink it.
A ball of fire impacted on the chest of the other and steel rang as Solarin and Shmall continued the battle.
Janrel held her actions, waiting for a critical moment.
‘Shift!’ Helsong shouted. The warriors stepped back and rushed the others. Mal dropped his bow and grabbed his knife, fending off the sword while trying to find an opening.
Shmall had his hands full, wrestling and parrying strikes with the broken shaft of his hammer.
Solarin still fought a pair, his swordsmanship being stressed to the extreme.
Jak directed a pair of mystic blades, holding the two knights at bay.
Razor struggled to rise, clawing at the hardened dust that held her captive. And then, shadow fell over her.

‘Abomination.’ James grinned in a fashion usually reserved for maniacs and madmen, ‘Prepare yourself for the afterlife.’
‘Get over here where I can reach you and say that!’ Aya pointed to the dagger on her back…

Razor glared defiantly at the war priest, one hand wrapping around the hateful silver dagger. It almost hurt to touch it, but it was all she had.
Helsong began to gesture, his hands slowly rising to the heavens. ‘By the power given to me by the Almighty! Strike!’ He threw his hands down and a shout met him as light flashed brilliantly.
‘Holy Force!’ Janrel had her staff extended in one hand, a beam of light ran out and arced over Razor’s head to meet with the heaven sent bolt that Helsong had summoned. Where the powers met, they fought bitterly, a growling orb of will writhing in the sky.
Razor whipped the dagger out and heard it clang as it bounced off of the steel plate Helsong wore.

‘Your spell is disrupted by tha attack.’ Cain pressed one of the buttons before him and the almighty strike was canceled…

With a final flash, Janrel’s beam won out. Helsong stepped back, drawing his sword.

‘Shmall has successfully performed a disarm maneuver…’

Shmall brushed the sword strike to the side and backhanded the knight. His knuckles ached, but with the stolen sword in hand, he chopped his way through the unarmed man and turned to help Jak.
Malgondion died silently as the great sword broke through his guard and cleaved him through. He smiled as he died, a bolt of holy power searing his foe. He had died in battle…
Jak threw his swordsmen back with a wall of force and shot the mystic blades out, killing one of the knights, Shmall dispatching the other as he tried to get up.
Solarin ran one through and cut the head from the other with a mage blade on his arm.

‘Dual casting ring of force and word of silence, secondary.’ James dropped his dice. Cain observed the results.
‘As tha wall of force raises, all casters fin’ tha they are unable to cast spells.’

Razor had her hand on her sword. A wall of red light had formed around her. It was similar to a fortress spell Jak used when the group needed a breather. But now she was trapped inside with Helsong. And he was able to walk around.
Jak shouted his spells, but nothing happened. Shmall crashed his stolen blade against the wall, but it shattered in his hands.
Solarin stood and watched, his face solemn.
Without a word, Helsong stepped behind Razor and held his sword high, the tip hovering high over his shoulder, ready for a golfer’s swing.
With a great effort, Razor poured her strength into freeing her sword. It snapped off at the ground and she swung at the war priest. But safely out of reach, he took a single swing of his own.

James smiled as he casually rolled the damage die. Aya glared in anger as he dispatched her with such apparent glee.

‘A taste of defeat to come.’ With his own words, the silence spell was broken and he began to cast a spell of his own. Before Jak could break the wall, Helsong had teleported away, back to his haven.
Janrel tried to heal the wound, but the sword that had cut into Razor was mystically imbued and resisted the healer’s touch.
‘Return the others to life, Janrel.’ Solarin had his back to the group as he sheathed his sword.
‘We can’t just let her die!’ Janrel protested.
Jak rested a hand on her shoulder, ‘You know as well as I, the magic used here, as well as her own undeath, puts her beyond your reach.’
Tears ran down the dust covered cheek and Janrel nodded. In a few moments, she had the other fallen returned to life, if not in the best of health.’
Mal rubbed at where he taken his most recent deathblow. ‘We shall avenge you, Razor.’
The six knights and their healer slowly left town. All of the knights were still badly wounded and the healer was in too poor a shape to do anything about it.
Solarin watched as the other party left town. ‘We shall lay her to rest in Eirutrak. But she will never be forgotten.’

‘Von Helsong.’ Cain said in a cool tone, ‘Your party will be picked up where they stan’ when next we meet…’
‘Very well.’ James shut his book with a snap and rose. His party members, except Orlang, rose and followed him out.
‘I think we’re done today as well.’ Parric shuffled his papers. The others nodded.
Cain dipped his head in acceptance, ‘Alrigh’. We’ll get tha rest tomorrow.’ Cain tapped a few buttons and stacked his things before shutting off the screen table.
Aya was the last from the room. The bag her die were in tapped her leg as it dangled from her wrist, her tote heavy on her shoulder.
A piece of her had died. She knew she was being dramatic, but the loss she felt at the death of her character was real.
‘A lot of people feel bad about losing their first character.’ Parric had waited for her.
Aya shrugged, ‘I feel like it’s more than that. I really was Razor Rose in that room…’
Parric was silent a moment. ‘I could pull together an after party. We did win the duel, after all. It could go a long way to cheering you up.’
Aya smiled briefly, ‘Thanks, but I’ve got some homework that needs to be done before class tomorrow. Maybe I can catch up with you on that later.’
‘Alright…’ Parric hesitated, but said nothing as he hurried away.
Aya slowed as he left. Glancing up in time to see him round a corner.

The library was abandoned as usual. Landria sat in the far corner, slowly reading a book on poetry. Most of it was a little dark for her taste, but still very beautiful.
She looked up as the door to the courtyard opened. It was used even less often than the library and hard to see from outside.
A flash of long, black hair and the tap of long, slow strides drifted across the library. They faded into silence and a door creaked softly from a great distance before clanking shut again.
‘Just an echo…’
She checked her watch, stowed the book back on the shelf, and headed out the side door.
The night air was sweet and warm. She took a deep breath and sighed. The full moon peeked around the edge of a cloud, giving a little light.
Jeffery would be coming soon. Landria had talked him into a midnight picnic. It wasn’t really going to come to anything, she just wanted to see what he expected to get.
A restless breath whispered through the leaves.
And a brilliant flash lit her eyes from within her skull. Losing her senses, Landria felt the impact of the ground distantly.
‘She’ll do as bait.’ A fuzzy voice said casually. A slice of agony ran down her side and warmth seeped down her side.
‘You can do what you like,’ a familiar voice said as Landria’s eyes slipped shut, ‘Slice her up, have your fun, whatever you do.’
‘I don’t work like that.’ The first voice replied harshly. ‘You want this girl dead, you do it yourself. She may be bait, but she’s still a person.’

Aya was out as well. Following Jeffery. It was sneaky, but she had to know what he and Landria were up to.
As the boy wandered about, Aya caught a whiff of a scent she recognized. The same steely perfume Landria had been wearing in the library. But without the bitter sweet tones…
Like a seasoned hound, Aya chased the scent. And then she looked down. One of many dark blotches glinted in the moonlight.
Curious, Aya dipped a finger in it. She brought it under her nose. It was the scent she kept picking up. She found it in the kitchen and auto shop once in a while too, and a lot outside of the infirmary.
It smeared and dried on her fingers quickly. Sticky, but not slimy. It tasted like the strong smell of rust and sea water with some… other taste she couldn’t quite identify.
Aya gazed at her hand in horror as she turned into the light. Her fingers were stained with blood.
Her eyes picked up the steady trail of droplets as they headed into the trees nearby. The scent surged into her nostrils with vengeance. The once alluring was now nausea inducing.
But Aya followed it. It belonged to someone who was hurt.

Landria was slipping in and out of darkness, the floating feeling amplified as she jostled. As if being carried. She tried to say something, but a weak groan was all that came out.
‘Tougher than I thought…’ The older voice said. Landria was propped against something hard and chill. A cloth was pressed over her mouth. A bitter taste coated her tongue as she tried to breath. As panic fought within her, her eyes flickered once. Long enough to see the face of James looking over a haggard man’s shoulder.
‘Don’t worry, girl. You’re going to be fine…’ The man’s voice was calm and Landria fell into deep unconsciousness.

Aya moved quickly through the trees. Adrenaline prowled her veins, waiting impatiently for something to happen. She found smears of blood were wiped on trees and brush when it hadn’t dripped enough to suit whoever had left the trail.
In places it was six feet off the ground.
A deep instinct whispered in Aya’s ear. It said that this was a trap. Her reason agreed. Insisted this was a poor idea. Only her heart was willing to continue the chase. Some motherly urge to protect.
And something else wanted to find the wounded and have a taste of the warmth being wasted on the rocks and trees.
She caught herself licking the blood from her hand and made every attempt to rub away the crimson mark.
Creatures of the night started and rushed from her path as she broke between the trees. The silence of her own steps keeping her stealth.
In soft earth, she could make out two pair of feet. One in expensive basketball shoes, the other in heavy work boots that sank deeply into the ground.

After a few miles, Aya knew she was getting closer. The droplets were fresher and noise from inexpert movement gave away the people ahead of her.
She left the trail of blood and rushed ahead, rounding around the noisy footfalls.
She sighted them. One was a man with long hair in a black trench coat. A girl with short dark hair was slung over his shoulders, a wound high on her side leaking lovely blood. It looked like Landria. It was her uniform.
‘Perhaps you would like a stick the thrash around as well.’ The man hissed. Aya watched from her hidden place behind a tree, the shadow of a low branch masking her face.
‘Perhaps you should go to hell. Just remember who’s got your paycheck.’ James retorted.
‘Money is no good to the dead!’
The man stopped suddenly. Motionless.
James stomped a few steps farther before stopping as well. ‘What? Got the chills old man?’
The man didn’t answer, but began to walk again. Faster now.
Aya followed along side, keeping to the shadows.
‘This is shit!’ James complained, ‘You wanted me to be quiet and now we’re running!’
‘Shut up, whelp!’
The man stopped suddenly, one hand grabbing James by the shirt, halting them both.
Aya slid as she stopped, wincing at the noise the leaves made.
Without word, the man broke into a run. Aya followed and James raised his voice in protest.
‘We’ve been made!’ The man made a grueling pace, one James was hard pressed to keep up in the dark.
Aya wondered briefly at her own endurance, but a smell she recognized shouldered it’s way to the front.
It was smell she recognized now as fear.
She could smell the fear of the old man. And it made her smile.

Landria was coming to. The heavy bounce in the man’s stride was shaking her free of the chemical that forced her to sleep. She could see James running behind them. And behind him, a shadow flitted through bright patches between the shadows of the trees.
They broke out of the trees and she was thrown into the backseat of a car. Her limbs felt heavy and weak and the door was slammed behind her.
James and the man clamored in, the key turned and the car cranked for a moment before coming to life.
The wheels spun and gravel rattled in the wheel wells as the took off.
‘You told me this was a low class vampire! Stupid and driven on instinct!’ The man’s voice was edged with latent panic, but filled with rage.
‘So I was wrong!’ James shouted back.
The man checked the mirrors, ‘I don’t know why it hasn’t caught us yet… unless it doesn’t care…’

Aya stopped as the car sped away. She didn’t think she could run that fast. She looked around. Getting her bearings. But the way the road looped… She ran to the cliff side. The road came close back to where she stood. And the headlights were coming her way. A drop of twenty feet, and she wanted to land on the car.
Getting run over would be bad…

‘She protected this one before!’ James shouted.
‘If she let you escape, then… SHIT!’ The car dipped as something heavy smacked into the roof, the liner bowing down.
The man slammed on the brakes and a flash of white appeared as someone fell off of the car.
Before Landria could test her arms to get up, the engine roared and the car accelerated again. Landria watched as the figure climbed to her feet and stepped to one side, the car slipping past.

Aya reached out and grabbed at the car. Time seemed to slow, but her mind ran ever faster. Her nails pierced the surface of the trunk lid and she was ripped from her feet.
The force numbed her shoulder but she still held.
The driver still accelerated, and now the car wiggled back and forth, trying to shake her loose.
Landria looked out the back window, her eyes twin orbs of fear.
Climbing the long trunk hand over hand, Aya punched through the back window and climbed inside.
‘Stop this car before I lose what little patience I have left!’ The man looked over his shoulder and gently slowed, pulling over to the side of the road and stopping.
He kept very still and had both hands on the wheel. His eyes watched her in the mirror.
Aya tugged on the door handle once. Locked.
She looked up to see the long nose of a revolver aimed over the seat. She grabbed the barrel and pushed it upward. It went off, the heat of burning powder seared her hand as the flash blinded and the report deafened.
Aya ripped the gun out of James’s hand and crashed it into his head with a sickening crack.
She opened the gun and dropped the remaining rounds onto the floor.
James moaned, but stirred little.
‘I imagine this is yours.’ Aya handed the pistol to the man driving. He accepted it gently before putting it in the consol box.
‘Now, take us back to the school. Please.’
The man nodded and turned around, driving carefully and quickly.
In a few moments, they had pulled up to the front steps.
The man remained still as Aya and Landria climbed out.
The other girl was unsteady on her feet, as if half asleep. ‘I can walk…’ She held her head and stumbled toward the doors. Jeffery came around the side of the building and ran as he saw Landria.
‘Are you alright? What happened? Who is this guy? Where have you been?’ The boy fired questions rapidly as he walked the wounded girl into the building.
Aya looked into the car. The old man quickly averted his eyes.
‘Thanks!’ Aya looked up. Cain was holding the door as Jeffery and Landria stepped inside.
The car behind her sped away, slowly enough to dump James out and then resuming the escape before the door was closed.
Aya thumbed over her shoulder, ‘He needs to be brought inside.’ She rushed past Cain as he strolled toward the comatose body.

Janet wandered up the hall in front of the library, savoring the sweet memory of late night cheesecake when she spotted Aya. Her shirt was half tucked in, her hair a mess. She had twigs and grass in her socks and one hand looked like it was swelling along the knuckles.
Her eyes were livid and her pace was long and rapid.
Janet abandoned reasonable and simply followed as Aya ran past her. ‘What’s going on?’
‘I’m going to ask a few questions and have an answer or two if I have to beat them out of her!’ Aya clenched her fists and winced, looking down at the red and swelling hand.
‘What have you been up to?’ Janet tried to talk and keep up, but her wind wasn’t enough to do both.
Aya growled and threw a splinter of something on the floor. ‘You’ll hear when we get there.’
And they ducked into the library. Janet followed mindlessly as Aya wove around the shelves. Following directions invisible to herself.
After a few minutes, she doubled around one shelf, the back devoid of books and near the wall.
Winded and huffing, she couldn’t ask why they were going down a dead end.
Aya reached into the deep shadow and twisted. Pushing away, a door opened. A door that couldn’t have been there before… Or wasn’t it?’
‘Aval!’ Aya walked in. At least she had calmed down.
‘I’m here.’ Janet rounded the corner of the room and a young girl with long, black hair and a pale complexion sat on the bed, a set of oil paints spread out before her. A half started canvas leaned on an easel. Just a general background of dark color with blank patches dominating the work.
‘Which of these is best for the base color of blood on steel?’ The girl named Aval swept her hand over the selection. All shades of red.
Janet scanned them before pointing quickly to a bright shade. The girl smiled and set the tube to one side, scooping up the rest.
‘Would you like to hear of what I’ve done just now?’ Aya was seething again. Her words were hot and her uninjured hand was flexing open and closed quickly.
Aval looked back worriedly, ‘You haven’t killed someone, have you?’
‘I don’t think I hit him that hard, but blunt trauma is kind of unpredictable.’
Aval sighed, but didn’t look at all relieved. ‘Tell me what happened, and start from as early as you can.’
Aya took a deep breath. She glanced at Janet and began.
‘I was out for a walk when I noticed a weird smell I’ve been picking up all over the place recently. I looked down and found a little trail of drips. Blood. Enough to mean someone was hurt. So I followed the trail. It led off through the woods and someone had smeared it on things, like the were trying to leave a trail. When I caught up, James was with some old guy who had Landria over his shoulders and she had a gash in her side that was bleeding.
‘It didn’t take long for the guy to realize I’d caught up to them and he ran like hell until he got to his car.’
Aya looked back down at her hands. ‘They got in, throwing Landria in the back. I didn’t think at the time that I could chase a car on foot, so I jumped on them as they passed when the road doubled back. Something threw me off and I fell off the car. I narrowly missed being run down and clawed the back of the car.
‘I stuck my hand through the sheet metal like it was… Like it was clay. I put my fist through the back window and the old guy got real cooperative real sudden.’
‘Mortal fear can do that.’ Aval was listening intently. ‘Go on.’
‘James tried to shoot me, so I took the gun away and pistol whipped him once in the head. The old guy brought us back here like I told him and drove away as soon as I wasn’t looking right at him.’
‘Sounds like a hunter…’ Aval turned to her painting. ‘I don’t think he will bother you again. But James, on the other hand…’
Aval looked at the girls, ‘You had better be on your toes. As cliché as it sounds, a final confrontation is coming. And if both of you live through it, it will be the first time in a great while.’
Janet held her head and shook it back and forth, ‘Can someone please tell me what is going on? Why would there be a hunter after any of us? How did you manage to tear up a car? And why can you chase someone down like a bloodhound?’
‘Being vampiric has a few extra footnotes in the fine print.’ All eyes turned to the door. A refined woman with long white hair stood behind them. Cain was there as well. ‘And that place really is a maze.’
‘What do you mean ‘vampiric’?’ Janet looked around the room in horror.
Aval waved her paintbrush at the group, ‘Relax. With the possible exception of your best friend, nobody in here drinks live blood.’
Aya looked into the fearing eyes. ‘I am not going to drink anyone’s blood. Cannibalism just isn’t my thing.’
‘Technically, it isn’t cannibalism.’
‘Ness. Stop scaring the girl.’ Aval didn’t turn from her painting.
Aya sat on the trunk, head in her hands. ‘Can I just find out how this came about? How did this happen? I was never bitten, I think.’ She checked her neck for marks.
Ness laughed. ‘Child, if it were that easy, there would be a great many more vampires around.’
‘Do you remember…’ Aval set her brush down, ‘…what it was you said when we did our first paining?’
Aya dug back into her mind.
‘Something you said in relation to a certain dress.’
Light dawned and Aya looked at the painter girl.
Ness was also looking at Aval, but with a slightly different light.
‘Just out of curiosity. Aya. You are a good person.’ Aval rested a hand on her shoulder, ‘I just offered you the chance to become a more powerful person. That your kind heartedness would be shared with others, even after your lifetime had passed.’
‘But I never had a choice! It was just there!’
Ness kneeled before her, ‘If you hadn’t used the power, it wouldn’t have blossomed. Like a flower that isn’t properly cared for, it would have withered and vanished. But you did something. Something of great power that used this new strength. And then you continued to use it. Maybe a little at first, but as time when on, you used it more and more, growing accustomed to it. Like your growing beauty as you passed from child to adult. And before long, you were charming without realizing you were doing it.’
Ness looked to Aval, ‘But what should have been said went silent. For every good, there is an evil. When this power was born within you, an evil awoke within your rival.’
‘James Marion!’ Janet supplied the name.
‘It would appear to be so.’ Ness nodded and stood. ‘And as long as he wants to see you dead, he will continue to attack you and your loved ones.’
‘O’ course there is a minor trap in all this.’ Cain spoke up, ‘If you hadn’ a taken the power, yer rival would still be evil an’ ye’d have at fin’ a way ‘round tha’ as well.’
‘The only great error in this is mine.’ Aval looked to Aya, almost apologetically, ‘I hadn’t seen deep enough to realize the greater portion of your potential.’
‘What’s that mean…?’ Janet was growing nervous again. Aya could smell it.
Ness replied, ‘It means that all things being equal to begin with, his evil grew as your good grew, but his potential was chosen by fate to match your own. For as good as you might ever get the chance to be, he will be equally as evil. And he seems to have taken more naturally to his evil than most.’
‘An’ tha’ means ye’ve an uphill battle ahead o‘ ye.’ Cain sighed and turned to leave.
Ness followed him out and Aval returned to her painting.
‘I would get some sleep tonight.’ Aval painted slowly. ‘Unless he was hurt badly, James will be back tomorrow or the day after. And he will be quite angry.’
‘So you guys can’t help her at all?’ Janet was shaking. In anger or fear was uncertain.
‘We each fight our own evils. To join together only magnifies the evil. The last time vampires tried to band together… well I’m certain they still talk about Salem.’ Aval sighed and her shoulders drooped.
‘And if he wins?’ Aya hesitated, ‘Or if I don’t fight him?’
‘He will hunt you. You know that now. And if he can’t, he will send others after you. Like tonight.’
Aval looked back, ‘I’m sorry.’
Aya stood and walked slowly to the door. ‘I have a lot to do then…’