Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 Call kicked at the dirt as he limped across the uneven ground. He didn't know what caused bullies to flock to him, and he couldn't bring himself to care either. That’s what he told himself anyway. Afterall, it wasn't like he was a target with his leg or anything. He scoffed to himself and settled further into his black hoodie. It was going to be a long trek back home. 

The bright sun was already lowering itself by the time of his return; he only belatedly realized his after-school ‘beat-up’ had taken up quite a few hours. Part of him wondered if his dad even realized this, but he was quickly distracted as Havoc excitedly greeted him by jumping on top of him and covering his face with enough kisses to brighten even Call’s black mood. He felt thankful for the distraction.

       “Oh right, I gotta take you out to walk…” he mumbled to himself, glancing at the darkening skies. “Guess we’ll have to be quick, huh Havoc?”

The dog barked in response excitedly. Rising to his feet seemed easy with Havoc there, and Call dumped his backpack off in a dark corner. He would think about his homework later. Quickly, he ran into their kitchen for a small snack, not noticing his dad emerging from the dimly lit corridor that housed both of their rooms and his father’s precious garage. It really wasn't creepy at all.

      “Call, you're home awfully late today…” Alastair said. 

 Call immediately recognized the tense tone his father was speaking in; it was as rare as it was distinguishable. But, oddly enough, it was only one of the factors that contributed to the bizarreness of the entire situation. While 'bizarre' and 'Alistair' could usually fit in the same sentence easily, Call couldn't help but feel that it was rather jarring at this exact moment. Alistair was acting weird in a 'normal' kind of way. And he was most definitely not a normal dad.

To start, his father almost never personally greeted him when he got home, mostly sticking to calling out to him from wherever his current antique obsession was within their tiny house. Secondly, Call had been home far later than the current six o’clock displayed on the face of the only digital clock they owned, and Alastair most certainly hadn't commented then. 

      “Uh yeah…” Call responded lamely, his witty comebacks stalled in favor of understanding the current situation, “Is something wrong?”

His dad shifted from foot to foot, wringing his hands and gazing about before finally settling on the antique clock that was ticking away. The atmosphere felt tense and uncomfortable, as if Alistair was about to tell him that his mom died or something. Well, at least neither of them had to worry about that particular issue.

     “How about we have family movie night?” Alistair offered. 

Call couldn't believe his dad was torn up over something as trivial as that, but at the same time, it was so like him to be weird like that. And hey, honestly, Call wasn't deterred from the idea of a little father-son time.  

    “Sure, just lemme’ take Havoc out for a dump, then-”

    “Call, it's dark out now, just take it out tomorrow.” Alistair interrupted, a little too eagerly.

    “Havoc’s a him and he can’t just hold his poo-”

This time Call wasn't interrupted by Alastair, but by Havoc himself. The dog abruptly began to pace before he erupted into loud barking. Havoc dashed outside the front door madly, in a sudden craze. Watching his best friend bolt, didn't leave him with much choice. Call didn't think twice before calling the dog's name and dashing right after him. Contrary to both dog and boy, Alistair planted his feet firmly in the doorway and grabbed his arm with an iron grip.  

   “Call, you cannot go outside!” his father ordered severely, his silver eyes seemed pleading.

Call didn't know why exactly his father told him to stay. He had been acting awfully weird for the whole evening. Maybe the kids at school were right, maybe both father and son were losing it. He discarded his previous line of thought shamefully. Something had to be seriously wrong with him if he was believing those kids.

   “Let go of me dad! We have to go find Havoc!” Call cried.

   "Call you can’t-!”

Throwing off his signature hoodie allowed him to dislodge his father for just a single moment, and he didn't waste it either, creating as much distance as he could manage. He only turned back to shout once he had one foot outside.

    “Don't worry dad, I’ll be back with Havoc in no time!”

Alastair stared at Call’s empty hoodie in horror, his gaze seemed unfocused and his hands seemed to be shaking.

    “It's already begun…” he muttered under his breath.

Call found himself quite lost gazing at the shaking figure of his father. Did taking Havoc out to poop really need all this drama? Just as he was about to ask this very question, his father, who seemed to have regained his composure, spoke up himself.

    “Okay, Call I’ll go with you, we'll find Havoc together. But let's make it quick...”

Call readily agreed to his father's recommendation, his previous odd demeanor already long forgotten.

Chapter Text

When Call finally got his father out of their house, Havoc was surprisingly still in view. The dog was facing towards the east and towards the rising moon. To Call, it was almost like he had been waiting there for him the entire time. 

    “Hey boy! I'm here, come on Havoc! Come here!” Call called, but as soon as his voice pierced the still air, Havoc went dashing away.   

    “The wolf obviously is trying to run away Call, and I say we let him be.” Alastair said, placing a placating hand on Call’s shoulder. "He'll be better off in the wild killing squirrels and whatnot."

Like that was gonna convince Call to give up on his best friend. Of course his dad would say something so mean, he had no friends to count on.

     “Really dad? He’s obviously telling us to follow him,” Call said surely. “He wants to show us something.” 

Without waiting for his father’s response, Call ran off into the darkened forest. This was normal, Havoc probably wanted to poop, show Call something he had recently dug up, and finally they would head back home. His dad didn't even need to come with them. He was just being oddly paranoid for whatever reason.

After entering the tree's cover, Call glanced around blindly, he couldn't spot Havoc anywhere within the darkened forest. Even the dog's shadow seemed to have completely vanished. Suddenly the trees looked unimaginably murky, almost like they were closing in all around him. Unconsciously he found himself taking a step back, and felt immensely relieved when he felt the warm presence of his father at his back. 

     “The solar-eclipse is happening this evening Call,” Alastair commented, reaching for something within his coat, “If we’re gonna find your pup, we at least got to be able to see him.” 

As if out of thin air, a bright beam of light illuminated the forest underbrush.

    “A flashlight!” Call exclaimed. Being Captain Obvious was okay in his book, after all Captain Obvious was never the first to die in the horror movies, which was actually quite the exaggeration, but the familiar forest that Call and Havoc journeyed through each and every day couldn't have seemed more different shrouded in shadow. Call had never been particularly afraid of the dark, but his moment in the inky blackness seconds earlier had made his skin crawl. The forest shouldn't have been so eerie in complete darkness, there was nothing out there to be afraid of, after all. He knew that much at least.

A warm hand shook Call out of his disoriented thoughts.

    “You wanna head back kiddo? We can find him first thing tomorrow morning.” Alastair asked, eyeing his son with concern.

Suddenly Call felt very grateful that his father had decided to tag along with him. Not only did something seem off in the forest, but he just wasn't feeling like himself. He felt weird, unbalanced almost. Not to mention the flashlight and support were a nice added bonus too.

Swallowing back his light-headed sensations, Call squared his shoulders and met his father's worried gaze.

    “No, let’s find him tonight, he doesn't like sleeping alone in the dark…” Call found himself smiling at the fond memory of Havoc curling up next to him in his bed. “He wouldn't have gone too far without me.”

As if Call’s words signaled the dog, a loud howl came from some deeper part of the forest, he felt his eyes light up.

    “Dad, he’s that way!” Call said pointing toward a far off direction. Alastair let out a wary sigh and combed a hand through the inky strands of his hair. 

    “Let’s go get your dog then…” he muttered with false enthusiasm.

Chapter Text

 Instead of dashing ahead again, Call walked at a similar pace to his father, making sure to stay only a few feet ahead of him. It wasn't like he was scared or anything, he just didn't want Alistair to be, so closer was ultimately better.

It seemed the longer they walked the more Call felt his stomach drop. It was like he was just waiting for something to jump out of the darkness and ambush them. The moonlight that usually would have illuminated the forest in its cool glow, had all but disappeared leaving the woods to the ghastly embrace of shadow. Even the flashlight’s beam seemed to be swallowed by the oncoming gloom, but that wasn't the thing that confused Call.

The forest was wrapped not only in complete darkness, but also in complete silence. It was as if the life had been so thoroughly and completely sucked out, even the smallest locust couldn't escape. Something was very wrong. It was as if Alastair realized this at the same moment and spoke, his voice scarily thin.

    “Call we need to go back…Now.”

Call stared ahead, searching for a familiar pair of ears and nearly jumped when his eyes picked out the familiar silhouette of his wolf. 

    “Dad! He’s there! Havoc is literally right there!”

    “Call-!”

Call bolted forward without thinking, his heart propelling him forward more than his mind. His leg panged slightly, but it didn't matter. He had been so worried about Havoc, about the weird feeling in his stomach, about the forest, and now everything would be fine. Now, they could head back and forget this ever had happened. Briefly hugging the wolf, Call held its face in his hands, gazing into his eyes. He stared for a moment into where the eyes of the wolf should have been. He was gazing into two dark holes.

Finally taking a step back, Call noticed many things about the wolf that stood in front of him. This wolf was much larger than Havoc, much larger than his dad even, and it was covered in blood. He didn't know whose blood, but after hugging the beast, he was covered too. The eyeless beast stood completely still, holding his gaze, despite the fact he couldn't quite physically do that. Call would have made a joke about it if he wasn't completely frozen by fear instead he shrieked. 

    “Get the hell back!” Alastair commanded, grabbing his arm and pulling him into his vicinity. Call didn't move after his dad pulled him back, staring at the hellish monster-no, monsters, he belatedly realized. Both him and his dad were surrounded by about six other giant hell wolves. Oddly enough, the wolves didn't make any moves, choosing only to stand and stare at the two humans with their eyeless gazes. Call felt their lack of movement was as equally terrifying as if they had decided to circle them or bare their teeth.

His dad surprisingly didn't seem scared at all, in fact he looked scarily determined. No Call realized after a moment he wasn't scarily determined, but scarily alive. Alistair's grey eyes danced with a light in them Call had never seen before. His dad swiftly pulled a sliver pistol out from his back pocket, and began filling the chamber with pearlescent bullets. Call had to consciously keep his mouth from falling open in sheer shock. When did my dad have such an awesome gun? He wondered, his surprise overpowering whatever fear he had previously felt.

Alastair then proceeded to take his glasses off his shirt and place them purposefully on the bridge of his nose. He let out a tired sigh before glancing at him, and forcing a half-smile.

    “Call, just stay with me, I’ll get us out of this as soon as possible…” his voice went softer, but Call still caught the words he whispered, “I won’t let you get hurt by them. Not again.”

Call just nodded, far too awed to speak.

After his son's affirmation, Alastair didn't wait a second longer before firing his gun a total of six times. His father’s aim was shockingly precise, hitting each wolf right between the eyes, and Call really felt like cheering for him... That was until the monster’s bodies began to bloat and swell exploding into a mass of blood and flame. He felt like retching after that. Alastair on the other hand, seemed unaffected, one might even say accustomed, to the gory sight. 

“What the hell just happened??” Call asked, his eyes still wide, and while he wouldn't admit it, his heart was beating a mile per minute from the rush of adrenaline and fear. 

“You are not allowed to use that sort of language young man,” Alastair said disapprovingly, though his tone was frantic. “I'll explain everything soon, but for right now we need to get you to-”

“Get you to a safe location perhaps? Ah, Alastair you haven't changed a bit since the day we met, and yet so many things really are so different…”

Both father and son whipped around, shocked to find a third person amidst them. The third figure was clothed in black, his face hidden by a shining silver mask. Having stated his familiarity to Alistair, Call looked up at his father for some semblance of understanding, but instead he found his face as pale as a ghost. 

“C-Constantine…?” Alastair asked, his voice filled with unmasked fear. Without thinking, Alastair pushed Call further behind himself, as if to protect him from being touched by the masked-man’s gaze. Earlier, a move like this wouldn't have affected Call, but unexpectedly his leg began to throb. His leg hadn't hurt him badly for the entire evening, and abruptly, severe pain began to flare up his entire left limb. The excruciating feeling erupted within his thigh, and he felt himself falling to his knees. The pain was far too intense for him to stand and bear.

As beads of sweat formed on Call’s forehead, he desperately tried to listen to the words being exchanged between his father and the masked man, but his head felt heated. As he felt himself begin to lose consciousness, he grabbed onto his father’s pant leg desperately, and choked out as many words as he could make out.

“Dad… I…” Call gasped, “I can't breathe.”

Call was vaguely able to make out shouting in the distance, but he couldn't move. His mind screamed at him to sit up and listen, to help his father as he could, yet the burning sensation from his leg only spread throughout his body. It felt as if he was simultaneously being suffocated and burned alive. Call despairingly clutched to his last threads of awareness, hoping he could outlast whatever was eating him alive from the inside out, but just like every other time in his life, Call lost.

Chapter Text

 When Call regained consciousness, his head had cooled down and his lungs no longer felt like they were being smothered. He could finally breathe again, and that was always a start.

Thinking back, Call couldn't find any reason for the sudden- panic attack? That must have been it, he was probably going through shock from all the things that happened that evening. His course of thought came to a halting stop as he remembered the only reason he had even survived the encounter.

    “Dad!”

Call’s voice echoed and bounced off the stone wall that stood in front of him. Other than the reverberations of his voice, no other sound answered him and Call felt defeat settling in the pit of his stomach like hard, cold dread. No matter what happened at school, no matter how hard the bullies hit, his dad had always been there. He might not have been the best, but he was everything Call needed. Someone to stand by him. It had always been Call, Havoc, and Alastair. As long as they were together, Call could face anything. 

    “Havoc?!” Call shouted out hopelessly.

Turning around, the young boy desperately searched for anything that could give him some idea of where his father was, any idea of anything. His eyes caught onto the familiar shine of his father’s silver gun, and Call rushed toward it. The gun had been haphazardly tossed into some foliage, and to his dismay, had a bloody hand print on it.

 Call bit his bottom lip and tried to keep himself together. His leg ached, his dad was probably dead, and Havoc had run away. Call did end up falling on his butt, his leg twisted with pain at the action, but it didn't even compare with his inner turmoil. Covering his face with his hands, he felt ready to have the breakdown of his lifetime, until he heard the snap of a stick. It couldn't have been more cliche, but if it was about to save his worthless life from a painful death than maybe he shouldn't complain.

He was barely able to make out another boy standing a few feet away. It wasn't anyone he recognized, and by any means could have been another one of the masked man’s allies. Call was not taking any chances. Pointing the gun straight ahead, he cleared his throat and hoped he looked a lot more intimidating than he felt. When he was able to visibly see the other boy’s eyes widen he guessed the gun and bloody shirt did quite the number on people. Not to mention, he hadn't slept in forever and had gotten beaten up, he probably looked quite literally like shit. 

    “Put your hands up, and walk forward slowly.” Call ordered, praying his voice didn't betray any of his emotions. 

Call watched as the boy discarded item after item, pointedly dropping them at a slower pace so Call could examine each one equally. At least that's what Call assumed, but when the boy pulled out a metal whip, he realized he couldn't have been more wrong. The boy wasted no time in lashing at him, and Call turned narrowly, barely saving his vitals. His right arm, which had been grasping the gun, hadn't been so fortunate, and Call flinched as the silvery metal burned away his flesh. He watched in fascinated horror as the metal burned through his skin like paper. The stench that wafted through the air made his nose crinkle in disgust. 

    “Your- you're a vampire!” The other boy shouted, in alarm. 

He had gotten close enough now that Call could see his black hair and slanted eyes. Weapons of various sorts surrounded him, and man did Call feel like an idiot for pulling a gun on this guy.

Sweeping his dad’s firearm up with his left hand, he didn't even waste a millisecond to look back at the Asian boy that had whipped him. Instead, he turned to the moat that was now wide open, beckoning him inside.

Face the inside of whatever the hell was in the castle, or face the lunatic outside calling him a vampire? Call wanted nothing more than to be alone at the moment, and he really didn't want to be whipped to death. His decision made, he ran forward, ignoring his protesting leg. He would find that silver masked-man and make him pay.

Chapter Text

 When Call entered the castle, he found himself quite shocked. Unlike the outside, which had displayed a grand and mighty stone fortress, the inside was quite dilapidated. Through a crack large enough to fit his head through, Call was even able to glance at the large moon filling up almost the entirety of the darkened sky. That was definitely not supposed to be visible during a solar eclipse, but bloody-eyeless-hell wolves weren’t supposed to exist, solar eclipse or not.

Nothing made any sense.

Havoc runs away one day, his dad reveals himself to be a monster hunter, and he… He’s left all alone? 

It took Call a moment to realize he was crying. Hot tears streamed down his cheeks and he wiped at them pathetically. He couldn't believe himself to be so lame as to resort to crying, he was fourteen years old, after all. Fourteen year-old boys didn't cry. But he couldn't stop the rush of emotion he was consumed with, he couldn't stop thinking about the last evening he spent with his father. Alastair had warned him not to go out, but Call had insisted on going no matter what. Why had he been so dumb? Why didn't he just listen to him? For one time in his entire life, why did he not listen to his dad?

Regrets flooded him, all his mistakes over the years, all of his rude quips back at his father. Now he was dead, and it couldn't have been more of Call’s fault.

He didn't know how long he cried. When he glanced back out of the small window, the moon seemed to be in the exact position he had last seen it in.

I wonder if time even passes in this place, Call thought absentmindedly.

Despite the fact that ‘crying it out’ was supposed to help, he honestly couldn't help but feel even worse. He felt even more exhausted than before, even hungrier, and definitely more depressed. His dad was gone and he was alone in what? Some sort of monster-filled hell? Where even was he? Would anyone even realize their disappearance? There was a million unanswered questions in his head, and no one to answer them. That single thought alone was more distressing than he realized.

Would he die here?

Getting up back onto his feet was difficult, but he got ready to leave the main hallway to search for something to snack on. He swore he heard the sound of clanking bones, which was oddly specific even for him, but surmised it as his own bad leg cracking painfully. 

If he was planning to survive in this place for longer than a week, then he needed to find a food source. That and somewhere to sleep. 

A brief memory flashed through Call’s mind: himself and Havoc napping away a hot summer day, his father busy tinkering away on his favourite car; the sound of clinking metal, the peace.

Call sucked in a large breath, it was going to be a long journey. 

As he began to shuffle through the multiple hallways, he noticed the very build of the castle begin to change. The tall pillars and broken walls soon disappeared, giving way to more vegetation. The stone walls were soon swathed in layers of ivy and other questionable plants. The air itself changed too, becoming much more humid, hot, and stuffy.

Other than the freakishly fast changing scenery, Call found the oddest part to him was the lack of animal life. He had felt eyes on his back more than once, but no matter how many times he looked around, he couldn't find another living soul, animal or human. No wonder that lunatic outside was collecting weapons, the poor guy must have gone crazy after being in this place for so long, Call thought and then on a different note, Maybe he could have even told me something about this place. Call scoffed, glancing at his burned arm, that guy had seemed pretty ready to kill him rather than sit and talk. Maybe he should have been a bit more careful when he decided to point his gun at random people.

With his attention occupied by his thoughts, Call stubbed his left foot on a hard stone. It always had to be the bad leg didn't it? 

“Shit!” he cried, ready to kick the offending stone off into the pits of hell (that was to say if he wasn't already in them). 

Looking down, Call realized this wasn't any stone, but rather the top of some leafy green, a carrot he assumed. His stomach rumbled aggressively. 

    “I don't really like carrots…” Call muttered to himself, “But at the moment I don't think I really carr-ot all…” 

    “You didn't really just say that right?”

Call’s head shot up.

Chapter Text

Call glanced around searching for the owner of the voice and found a young girl standing just to the right of him. She had amber skin and sparkling dark eyes. Her hair was pulled back into a long black braid that fell elegantly on her shoulder. The weird clothes she wore looked like they belonged to era's long past, and only added to her eccentric arrival.

Call felt like he should be surprised to see another person standing there, surprised a girl as pretty as her was talking to him, but he kind of didn't feel anything at all. 

“If you don't like my carrot puns, I think you might have some deeply rooted issues.” Call said without blinking twice. God was he bad at introductions. Though, in his defence he was feeling a bit out of sorts. Just a little bit, not  like his dad had just died or anything.

“Oh my- I can’t believe you!” she exclaimed, and seemed ready to continue until Call began to pull the carrot from the ground, “Hey wait you shouldn't do that!”

Well, too late for that. Call pulled the root from the ground, and stared at the vegetable on the other end.

Whatever it was, it wasn't a carrot, that was for sure. It seemed more yellow and the longer Call stared at it, the more he thought he saw a face on the twisted root. Two gnarled knots marked its eyes and its mouth was… opening, revealing a fleshy and pink inside. Okay, this was definitely not a carrot.

“What did I say?” the girl said matter-of-factly, she even placed her hand on her hip to emphasize her own words. “Now quickly toss it away, before you get hurt!”

Call did indeed toss it away, but the vegetable did not exactly go the way he had planned for it to go. When the root landed, it ended up near the girl’s feet, and Call was pretty sure he heard her curse before she shouted at him, 

“Why did you toss it at me?!” 

Call shrugged and shouted back, "Sorry, I didn't eat too many carrots growing up, my eyesight is bad!" and hoped that would cover him. He really hoped his aim wouldn't be so bad when he shot the gun. Things could get pretty out of hand if that were to happen.

The girl scoffed and quickly kicked the root away from herself, but this time in a direction neither person stood. Call watched as the root disappeared into vegetation and heard a loud explosion. He fleetingly wondered what would have happened if he had eaten it. 

The girl seemed to have recomposed herself by the time Call looked at her again, and strode towards him confidently, studying him closely. 

    “Now that the Mandragora is gone, I do need to ask, just who exactly are you? And how did you get inside Dracula’s Castle?”

“We’re in Dracula’s castle?” Call felt appalled, “So you're saying, we’re in Europe somewhere?”

The girl sighed in exasperation before meeting his eyes again.

“No we are not in Europe, Dracula-or Constantine was defeated back in 1999 by heroes. Ever since then, they sealed his castle within the Solar Eclipse, so it wouldn't hurt anyone anymore. And if you won’t tell me your name then I can always call you-”

“Call” he cut in. 

“Well then Call, I am Tamara Rajavi, my family is a direct descendant of the Belnades Clan and I am here as an envoy to disrupt the prophecy of 1999,” Tamara paused, as if waiting for Call to gasp and realize how amazing she really was, but when he didn't, she cleared her throat and continued on, “So how exactly did you get here Call?”

Call didn't really feel like lying but he really didn't feel like explaining his story to a stranger either. Not only that, but something Tamara had said messed with him, he just couldn't put his finger on what. He opted for something vague. 

    “My dog ran away and I went looking for him and then I passed out and woke up here.” 

Tamara looked like she expected him to say more so he added, “I didn't know there was a cult that worshipped Christopher Lee. You do know he died a few years ago, right?”  

    “You didn't listen to anything I said, did you? Dracula was a real person! Not an actor! Dracula is the title of the person who this Castle will yield to. Constantine, who was the last Dracula, was killed back in 1999, but the prophecy states that a new Dracula will come to claim the Castle this very year.” Tamara explained, and Call briefly thought of reminding her he hadn't asked in the first place. 

    “Well good luck with that-” Call mumbled, ready to wish the girl away. Until his exhausted and starved mind clicked into place.

Constantine?! Call had heard that name, it was the name of the silver masked man his father had last spoken to. It was the name of the man he was planning to hunt down and kill. Tamara had said his name twice now, claiming he was dead. But Call had seen him, the man had been walking and talking, much better than Call had his entire life.

Whoever "Constantine" was, he was definitely not dead.

Chapter Text

Call had already decided he wouldn't tell this random girl about what had happened with his dad.  If Dracula had some beef with the Hunt family, he would be the only one to deal with it. But thinking about it, that brought up a whole new wave of questions. One of the big ones being, just how much had Alastair been hiding from him all this time? 

The onslaught of thoughts that currently assaulted Call’s mind made him want to slam his head against a wall.

In an effort to avoid the mess his head currently was, he decided he could look and see what Tamara had taken to, and perhaps see if she was willing to offer any more free information. Even though, with all things considered, being in 'Dracula's castle' and 'stuck in a solar eclipse' didn't seem to be the most reliable information, Call literally had nothing else to go off of.

Unfortunately, she also seemed to be consumed with her thoughts. It didn't seem like she would be telling him anything else important anytime soon.

    “I guess it makes sense that he’s ‘a wrong-place wrong-time’ case…” Tamara mumbled to herself, “It's happened before, but wouldn't Jasper have seen him first and reported it back to us? He only reported being ‘harassed by a vampire’ which he definitely isn't.” 

Call listened to her mumble for a bit before asking, 

    “You don't by chance have something to eat, do you?”

Tamara stared at him, her dark eyes wide. Call assumed she was embarrassed since she had been caught talking to herself. 

“Of course I do!” she claimed boldly. Tamara then proceeded to pat herself down, and when Call eyed her dubiously, she humphed.

Then she began to check the little pouches that decorated her belt, plopping them on the floor when their contents weren't satisfactory. Call peered into one of the small bags and happened a glance at a fine sparkling dust. It reminded him of fairy-dust from the movies.

"What even is all this stuff?" Call asked.

“Don't touch that!” Tamara snapped. Contrary to what he usually would have done, Call actually withdrew his hand obediently and then waited expectantly. When Tamara reached her final pouch, Call’s stomach growled with dramatic intensity. It only took a few moments to be matched by Tamara’s own stomach. Neither of them commented on it.

Without opening the last pouch, Tamara stared at him seriously, placing her hand on his shoulder. 

    “Call, please tell me honestly, when was the last time you ate?” she asked it with such an intense tone, even Call felt compelled enough to tell the truth. Not that he had any reason to lie about that subject, specifically. 

    “I don't know what today is, but the last thing I ate was lunch on Thursday.”

Tamara opened the bag so fast, Call didn't even have time to watch the single slice of bread fly toward him. He did however catch it before it could be soiled by the dirt underfoot. 

    “You only have one piece of bread?” Call questioned incredulously. 

    “My partner and I got separated early on in the castle. He just happened to be holding most of the food... “ Tamara explained sorrowfully. To Call, she seemed more upset about losing the food than the partner, but as she had provided the very last of her food for Call, he decided not to say anything. He did have some manners. 

Without too much thought, Call ripped the slice in half and handed her a piece, turning his face at an angle so she couldn't see it. 

    “Well, I don't plan to starve today," Call stated, waiting for her to take the other half of the rye bread.

Tamara's eyes sparkled at the offered half of bread, and she took it slowly, words of thanks on the tip of her tongue. Call didn't let her say them, however. Instead, through a mouthful of the dry bread, he spit out a few words.

"So what does 'Belnades' mean anyway?"

"Belnades is the name of an ancient clan that used to fight against Dracula. They are remembered as great spell-casters and mages. My family just happens to be distantly related to them, and I was lucky enough to be born with this power too. " Tamara explained.

Call murmured his acknowledgment, his stomach aching at its emptiness. The small sip of water she offered didn't help much either.

Everything that came out of this girl’s mouth was weird. He couldn't tell if he should believe her or not. If it had been a day ago, he definitely wouldn't have. But after everything he had been through so far, he wasn't as quick to deny her words. He had almost been exploded by a carrot, what was so crazy about a person using spells?...Right?

 Rising to his feet, Call caught Tamara studying him again. She was probably noticing how horrid he looked with his uneven legs, tousled hair, and overall repulsive appearance. It wouldn't be the first time someone commented. Instead, she said something he hadn't expected.

"I know it sucks, but until Aar- my partner and I destroy the new heir to Dracula's throne, we're all stuck within the Castle's seal. So for now, I'll take you to a resting spot. You'll be safe there until we finish business."

“Lead away.” Call said, rather dully. 

Tamara led him down different hallways and into hidden rooms he hadn't even realized were there. For the majority of the journey, neither said anything. Call would have if not for his lethargic and exhausted state, and Tamara seemed too focused to utter even a word.

 Since conversing wasn't really an option, Call glanced at the passing vegetation, attempting to identify even a single plant. It wasn't until they passed an especially large flower did a name come to mind. The flower appeared to be a rose, only it was as large as him, which probably meant it wasn't a rose, but Call wasn't about to give up the only plant he could name.

“Call…” Tamara warned suddenly, “Whatever you do, don't make any sudden movements. Just come towards me slowly.” 

Call swept the area around him with a quick glimpse, trying to recognize the threat. When he wasn't able to find it, he did begin to walk forward slowly, careful not to step on anything that might be alive. He didn't realize Tamara had also been inching forward, her hand reaching for his. As soon as the tips of their fingers touched, vines shot up from the soil underfoot, each one expertly missing Call, while also going straight for Tamara. The vines were covered in thorns, and a sickeningly sweet smell permeated the air.   

    “It’s an Alura Une! Try not to breathe in her pollen, its-!” Tamara’s advice was cut off as a thorn sliced deathly close to her face. 

Call watched in amazement as Tamara swiftly dodged each vine, while simultaneously trying to go onto the offensive herself. When she had an opening, fire sprang from her fingers, incinerating the oncoming assault, but her victory was short-lived as more vines sprouted from the ashes of the dead plants. No matter how strong she was, the vines kept coming, and Call knew they both had only eaten half-a-piece of bread in who knows how many days. Her flames could only last so long. 

Call turned around, searching once again for the main threat Tamara had originally pointed out, and his eyes caught onto the large flower he had been admiring earlier. The ‘rose’ had now budded, revealing a young girl cradled amidst its crimson petals. Her lips had formed a small ‘o’ shape and emitted the large cloud of pollen Tamara had warned against. She must have been the main body of the 'Alura Une'. 

Call didn't hesitate to pull out his father’s gun and aim. His first shot surprisingly hit her, and he heard her hiss venomously, before turning her attention towards him. Unlike Tamara, who had gracefully dodged each projectile, dancing dexterously to the tune of battle, Call was neither graceful nor dexterous. He clunkily evaded an oncoming plant, but was quickly ensnared by another six vines. They wrapped around his waist and legs, tearing at both his clothes and flesh.

Call barely registered the pain at all, instead focusing on his aim. He had played a few first-person-shooters, getting a head shot couldn't be so impossible. When a thorn cut precariously close to his thigh, however, Call was suddenly able to feel every other sensation acutely.

So much for not feeling anything.

The stinging cuts, the burning pain, and the suffocatingly sweet pollen that seemed to set his lungs on fire, made him go mad. The combination of so many tormenting sensations threw Call's mind into complete insanity.  He no longer tried to aim, only shooting crazily in the direction he had last seen the hellish blossom. A small part of his brain really hoped Tamara was still behind him because if she wasn't, she would have been full of holes.

After shooting multiple rounds of bullets, Call watched a giant ice spike spear through the Alura Une's head. The monster let out an ear–curdling shriek, and erupted into flames. The vines that had held Call in place released him too, falling to the ground grey and shrivelled.

Staring at their remains, Call wouldn't have believed they were once alive and trying to kill him.

In milliseconds, a bright blue light flashed, swirled around Call and disappeared, going unnoticed by both of them. The pair was too stalled at the shock of battle. They were both panting, their breaths mingling in exhausted unison. Tamara was the first to break the silence.

"Are you… Are you alright?" she asked, her voice trembling. 

"I'm alive," Call muttered, breathing hard, "That ice thing at the end was kind of awesome."

Call watched as Tamara's lips turned upwards, obviously she was filled with pride.

"You weren't too bad yourself Call... " Tamara's tone softened as she eyed his exposed abdomen, "You are injured!"

Call glanced down at his shredded T-shirt, it had been one of his favourites, and now the words could barely made out. Call frowned.

"Did you at least read it before?" he asked, genuinely worried that it had gone unappreciated.

“I did read it, it said ‘my priorities are wrong’ and,” when Call tried to interrupt her, she pressed on, raising her voice over his, “I for one, think it was quite right.”

“I guess you didn't, cause’ it actually said ‘The girl standing next to me doesn't appreciate Hot Topic T-shirts’. And I for one, don't know how to feel about that.” Call corrected, leveling Tamara with his gaze. It was her turn to frown.

Chapter Text

After the encounter with the Alura Une, the rest of the trip was rather uneventful. Tamara had asked about his gun, and Call had said something he couldn't remember. She then had insisted on bandaging his wounds, but apparently had forgotten the first aid-kit with her partner too.

Call was pretty sure that if they weren't able to reach the ‘resting point’ in the next hour, they were both going to drop dead somewhere. The thought reminded Call of a question he hadn't asked yet.

    “So what day is it anyway?” 

    “It is currently Sunday the nineteenth, and it is six o’clock pm.” Tamara said, glancing at some trinket that quickly disappeared within one of her pouches. 

Well, that explained why he felt so horribly close to death, Call hadn't eaten or slept in three days. He suddenly wished he had eaten the whole piece of bread instead of sharing. He squeezed his eyes shut, questioning why exactly he had pretended to be a decent human-being. Considering his crass outlook on everything, he really couldn't find a reason why he decided to suddenly try. 

Rubbing his bleary eyes, Call belatedly realized Tamara had stopped a few inches in front of him. 

    “We’re here.” she announced, leading Call into the darkened room. 

Despite his slight suspicions at entering a dark room with a stranger, Call walked ahead fearlessly. He was fairly ready to get some sleep, and if that meant eternal sleep, he was not objecting... Not too much anyway.

Upon entering, the first thing Call noticed was the large stone statue that stood in the centre of the room. The statue appeared to be a woman with stone wings. Her hand was outstretched forever, reaching for something she could never possess. Her face was carved lightly, giving her delicate and pleasant features, and while Call felt a bit unnerved at her gaze, he knew his dad would have killed to see something of such exquisite craft. The thought made his heart sink. Swallowing back tears he didn't know he had, Call glanced at Tamara who was already nearing the exit. 

    “Are you leaving already?” he asked, his voice sounding smaller than he would have liked. Call blamed it on his lack of water.

Tamara didn't seem to notice.

    “I’m going to find my partner, and when I do, we’ll both come back and give you the help you need,” Tamara said, looking pointedly at his left leg, “ I would take you with me, but you aren't really in shape to be traversing through Dracula’s Castle.”

Her words, while true, stung Call where it hurt. Having not mentioned it the entire time, Call had thought that maybe she was different. Maybe he had thought he was different. Different from the ‘Call’ that was handicapped, different from the 'Call' that hadn't entered Dracula’s castle. The one that was ridiculed by his peers, beaten up after school, the one that had a family to go home to. Call swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat, and hoped his voice didn't shake when he spoke.

    “Y-yeah.” he muttered, not trusting himself to say anymore without revealing too much.

Following Call’s affirmation, Tamara left in a sweep of Victorian silk and glittering dust.

He wondered if he would ever see her again. 

 Call was once again alone. He hadn't minded being alone at first, but now that Tamara had come and gone, he didn't feel so brave anymore. Despite feeling extremely exhausted, he found he couldn't fall asleep. He wasn't about to wait for something to pop out and kill him. Not only that, the very walls of the castle seemed to whisper and creak, it was like they were almost alive. When a particularly large moan resounded within the wall, Call realized there was absolutely no way he was going to fall asleep, no matter how tired he got.

So rather than resting, Call took to finding the most entertaining way to distract himself from his current circumstances. Having a staring contest with the statue got old pretty fast. And trying to understand how the six original bullets Alastair had put in the gun hadn't run out yet, seemed impossible. He then tried to pass time by counting how many gashes he had on himself, and when the number got greater than seven, he decided he should probably stop, just for his own mental stability. 

Call ended up flopping onto the cold stone floor, trying his best to stretch his bad leg. The stones were hard and unforgiving, poking into every muscle and wound on his already battered body. His leg in particular, seemed the most uncomfortable, which didn't surprise Call in the least. Journeying through the castle really had been tough, and now he had to pay the price. Call wasn't able to stretch his leg far, before an alarming pain shot up the entirety of the limb. His face scrunched up in pain, as he tried to maneuver himself into a sitting position. He found the action to be barely manageable. With his back pressed against the base of the statue, fatigue overwhelmed all his other senses, and Call felt himself losing awareness.

It hadn't been more than five minutes, when Call’s eyes flashed open again in shocking horror. He had heard something. He had heard a whine. The sound had been faint and squeaky, and so achingly familiar.

Call wasted no time rising to his feet, even when his leg cramped and throbbed, he didn't stop. Call limped as quickly as he could out of the resting area and followed the sound like his life depended on it. To him, it really did. Corridor after corridor passed by in Call's haste, and before he knew it the scenery around him was changing again too. 

The leafy vegetation gave way to striped palegreen wallpaper that peeled away at the edges. Paintings lined the walls, depicting men and women from ages long past. Mysterious splatters and age marks marred the walls and floors, but the brightly burning chandeliers overhead suggested this place wasn't as aged as it seemed. Call passed it all by, uninterested in his surroundings. The only thing that mattered was the whimpering.

Call had heard it a million times. Whether it had been from under the table during dinner, or when he was being bathed, this cry, Call swore, belonged to no one other than Havoc. 

As Call continued his stride, the sound grew louder and louder, which only pushed the young boy to walk faster. Soon enough, he was running. He pushed past the pain from his wounds and leg, and felt desperate tears prick his eyes. Finally, when the sound reached its peak volume, Call found himself standing in front of a fancy wood-made door. Uncaring for the intricacies of design, Call pushed the door open and froze instantly.

There was Havoc, his precious young wolf, with chains binding each of his limbs and neck. He laid on his side, his usual fluffy grey fur was matted with blood, and his breathing was ragged. At the sight of Call, his cries stopped and his tail wagged slowly, each thump resounded with the pounding of Call’s own heart. 

Breaking himself out of his trance, Call rushed forward and scooped Havoc’s lowered head onto his lap. Havoc stared up at Call weakly, his eyes which were once bright and coruscating were now dulled by pain, but he was obviously comforted at the sight of his master. 

    “It’s ok buddy…” Call comforted, stroking his head lightly, “I’m here now, I’m gonna help you.” 

When Havoc didn't respond Call’s heart sped up even faster. How was he going to help him? Call couldn't do anything. He wished he could give Havoc half of his life, wished he could do something. Do anything but hold him uselessly. Call desperately willed himself to do something. 

It was in a single second when Call felt something break through. In the pit of his stomach he felt something pulling the energy from his body. He didn't understand it, but it was also in this moment when Call noticed something in his peripheral vision: a vine. Call swung around, unaware of the threat that stood behind him. An Alura Une stood directly behind him, her vines unmoving, and her lips shut. Call grabbed for his gun, but quickly realized the Une that stood behind him wasn't attacking. Her arms were outstretched towards both Call and Havoc, and while it took him a moment to realize it, pollen fell from her dainty fingers. This pollen was different from the one before, it didn't have a strong fragrance, and was actually healing both him and Havoc. The gashes and bruises that had once littered his body disappeared as the golden dust fell upon his skin. After what felt like a decade to Call, the Une wiggled her fingers at him before disappearing. Call honestly felt so shocked he couldn't move. 

An Alura Une had randomly poofed into existence behind him, (because she definitely wouldn't have fit through the door), healed himself and Havoc, waved at him, and then just disappeared?!

Call felt so appalled he slumped down next to Havoc, and shut his eyes. Unconsciousness took over him in seconds.

Chapter Text

Having passed out from exhaustion, Call’s eyelids had practically sealed themselves. He really hadn't wanted to get up for anything, but when a strong tug pulled at his foot, he regretfully left the blissful state of sleep and ignorance, forcing his eyes to open. 

There was Havoc, his haunches raised into the air, while his teeth were latched firmly onto Call’s sneaker. Call stared at him for a moment before shaking his head  clearly unamused.

    “Really?” he asked disappointedly. 

Havoc didn't share the sentiment. Seeing his master awake, sent him into a frenzy of excited barks and enthusiastic tail swishing. Without wasting a second, Havoc was standing on his chest covering his face in kisses. Call laughed a bit, before hugging him tightly, whispering, 

    “I really thought you were gone…”

Havoc paid no mind to Call’s somber statement, wagging his tail even more everytime the boy spoke. His optimism was contagious and soon Call found himself grinning too.

It felt like it had been a long time since he felt happy… Or maybe it wasn't happiness, but hopefulness. Suddenly, with Havoc standing there with him, Call felt like he could take on Constantine, like he could make it through the castle. And who knows, maybe his dad was alive, and just waiting for them to save him. The inkling of hope warred against the pessimistic roots of Call’s mind, but he didn't care. Rising to his feet, he pulled his gun out of his pants, and glanced at Havoc.

    “Let’s go beat some monster ass.” he said menacingly. Havoc barked encouragingly. 

******

Call and Havoc both seemed to have the same idea as they left: food. Both being as young and energetic as they were, and having burned so much power, they were now seeking something to refuel with. Call didn't bother with going back and checking the way he had come. With Havoc's unexpected arrival, Tamara was long forgotten. The only path for the duo was forward.

Passing into the next hallway, Call found an ominous sign sticking out of the splintered  wood underfoot. It looked like someone had jammed it in between two planks uncaringly, as it tilted at an odd angle. The handwriting was crooked and uneven too, reminding Call of a child’s script. The ink was coloured suspiciously red… and dripped ominously down the sign. It spelled out ‘Demon Guesthouse’ and while Call didn't want to admit it, the sign was pretty unnerving.

Havoc, on the other hand, didn't seem to think anything of it. Lifting his hindleg, he pissed on it, sniffed the sign, and trotted ahead. Call stifled a laugh, Serves it right , he thought smugly. 

Upon entering the next room, Call felt his jaw unhinge itself and fall straight to the floor. The room was so enormously huge, the corners were hidden in darkness, but the parts he could see were enough to impress. Grand ivory pillars stood hundreds of feet above him, outlining the most grandiose staircase known to man. Torn silken curtains hung high above, tracing the entirety of the ballroom, in their once lustrous shine. But it was neither the pillars, nor the staircase that mesmerized Call. It was the dancers. They seemed to be ghastly, only wisps of memories, and yet Call couldn't seem to tear his eyes from their swirling forms. Women curtsied, their satin dresses pooling at their feet, and their respective partners would tip their hats, ready for another waltz. They danced to an unheard tune, unhindered by the passage of time, or any other miniscule factors that would interrupt their eternal dance. Call would be lying if he said he didn't find it to be beautiful… Eerily beautiful, that is. 

His trance came to an abrupt end as Havoc, who had been waiting patiently with him, decided to not only bark, but also chase the dancers. The dancers didn't move out of their waltz formation, and twirled right into Havoc’s waiting jaws. When the pup snapped his jaws shut, the dancers poofed into dust, and a grim moan echoed across the empty ballroom. It only took half-a second for all the beauty and awe Call had originally felt to turn to sheer horror.

How long had these people been cursed to dance here? Had they actually been real people once? Call was definitely not waiting around to find out. Despite Havoc’s reluctance, Call hurriedly grabbed the puppy by his scruff and dragged him out of the haunted ballroom. 

The next room was thin and long- really resembling more of a tower than an actual room- and soared high above Call’s head. Stairs spiralled upwards and numbered doors lined the walls. Call guessed these were the actual ‘demon guest rooms’. Crystalline chandeliers illuminated the spire, the sound of their crystals tinkling the only noise that kept the hall from being completely silent.

The sound unnerved Call, so he readied his gun and made eye contact with Havoc, motioning his hand forward before quickly motioning for silence. Havoc huffed out a breath, slapped Call with his tail, and pattered forward confidently. 

    “Was that amount of sass really necessary?” Call muttered under his breath to no one in particular. He followed after him closely, far too accustomed to the crazy dog’s antics.  

Looking at the coiling staircase made Call’s leg hurt tenfold, but he tried not to think about it too long. Havoc was already sniffing at the bottom of the first door after all. It took only a few moments for Call to join him. The first thing he looked at was the yellowed plaque that read, ‘Quezlcoatl’. 

What the heck did that even mean?

Call noticed that all of the doors were either pink, green, or yellow, which uncannily matched with the carousel wallpaper that adorned the area. It might have looked nice at some point in time, but the paper had deteriorated and fallen, leaving the ponies to look more like demons. Call felt himself grimace. 

Turning back towards the door, Call locked eyes with Havoc, and then slowly reached for the golden knob. Before his fingers could even make contact, a loud bang resounded on the opposite side of the door, making Call and Havoc jump back in fear. Sharing a brief wide-eyed look, both dog and boy went dashing up the stairs, their previous worries forgotten. They only stopped when Call could no longer run. His lungs and leg equally burning in protest. Havoc, however, seemed even more excited than usual. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and his tail was wagging a mile-per-minute. Call laughed breathily, while patting Havoc’s head fondly. 

That had certainly gotten their adrenaline pumping. 

Call rose to his feet and leaned against the railing, peering down at the first door warily. It looked no different than it had before, which obviously made it even more suspicious. After he was sure nothing was going to emerge, he turned back to find Havoc sticking his nose into the crack of the already opened door behind them. The plaque on this door was missing, and with the door already slightly ajar, Call felt nervous sweat roll down his back. Or maybe it was sweat from running up so many stairs because that could really wear someone out, but either way, the ominous chill the room emitted was no farce. 

Call pushed the door open and raised his gun, waiting for something to jump out. When his expectations were let down, he let out a short breath of relief. Havoc, who seemed unafraid of any and all things, headed in without waiting for Call, and barked incessantly, wanting him to follow immediately. 

In the centre of the room was a canopy bed (which Havoc was now fully sprawled out upon)… Or what used to be a canopy bed. The canopy itself had been mostly shredded, but the rest of the bed seemed to be in decent condition. The room was lit by many candelabras and in the far right was yet another door. Opposite of the adjoined door, stood a large wardrobe made of a deep dark wood that Call couldn't name. 

Overall, the room was pretty nice, but for whatever reason, the residents were nowhere in sight. Call's eyes were unknowingly drawn to the door across from where he stood. Unless of course, they hadn't left and were simply awaiting the perfect time to ambush them. Call shot a brief glance at Havoc, who was laying on the bed licking at his paws. A small smile found its way onto Call's face, but quickly faded as a thought flashed through his mind. He would have to brave the oncoming room alone. Havoc was not going to get hurt again, not under Call's watch. Mustering all the bravery he could, he walked towards the door and slammed it open.

 Call felt his shoulders sag with relief when nothing was there to greet him. He hesitantly walked ahead, examining the small stone room. Call had expected hanged bodies, voodoo dolls, and perhaps some namelessly horrifying beast. But no, this mysterious room, which had brought so much worry and fear into Call's mind, was nothing more than an adjoined bathroom. Because apparently demons had to poop too. 

The only thing that  mildly discomforted Call about this room was the porcelain bath that was filled to the brim with soapy water and bubbles. Feeling the steam against his chilled skin, also informed Call that this bath had recently been made for someone. For something . 

Havoc, who had followed after Call the entire time, didn't think twice before hopping into the elegant tub. Havoc was no longer a small puppy, and his jump into the bath sent hot water and bubbles flying everywhere. Call who was unfortunately too slow to react, was caught in the splash zone. He now stood stock still, drenched from head to toe, in water that most likely came from pipes made and fueled by monsters. 

 "You-!" Call yelled, pausing to toss his sopping wet clothes off haphazardly, "You don't even like taking baths that much!"

Havoc yapped innocently, an artful spud of soap marring his head. Call joined him not long afterwards, making sure Havoc got the soapy revenge he deserved. Despite the bubbly battle that was wholeheartedly waged, the warm water never ran out. Water sloshed over the sides slickening the grey stone flooring, and bubbles floated far. Call stocked it up to being magic, like many of the things in the castle. The conclusion should have garnered more shock and worry, but the everlasting warmth of the cursed water muddled his thoughts.

Stepping out of the bath, Call surprisingly felt like an entirely new person. If he knew bathing could refresh someone so much, maybe he would have done it more back home. If he even had a home to return to… That was going so far to say, if he even got out of the castle alive.

On a slightly more important note than his death, Call was standing completely naked, except for a small towel he had conveniently found and wrapped around his waist. Of all the things Call imagined himself to be doing in a castle filled with unimaginable evil, sitting naked and somewhat at ease, was not one of them. 

When a chilliness crept into the room, he decided that 'naked and at ease' was no longer a viable option. With his original clothes torn, bloodied, and now drenched, Call didn't really want to even try them on again. Instead, he crossed the room and squinted at the fancy wardrobe that stood in front of him. It was time to test his luck. Pulling the uppermost drawer open, he was openly delighted to find clothes folded within. He was not going to wait around naked a second longer.

Chapter Text

After donning the black turtleneck and matching trousers, Call settled himself beside Havoc on the bed. Either the bed wasn't as battered as it seemed, or Call was very tired because it felt like he was being encompassed by clouds that had floated down from the seventh realm of heaven. 

He must have been really tired to be making stupid analogies like that.

Because Havoc was already on the bed asleep, Call decided to take first watch. When sleep threatened to consume him, he decided to hold his eyelids open with his fingers. It was neither convenient, nor pleasant, but in the least, it kept his eyes open. Seconds seemed to stretch into hours, and if not for his still dripping hair, Call would have been convinced hours had actually passed. Havoc had been lulled into a deep sleep, kicking at Call every now and then, in pursuit of whatever rabbit he was chasing within his dreams. The young boy glared enviously in the pup’s direction, but his gaze held no malice. No one was here to keep watch if Call went to sleep, so ultimately he had to keep his eyes peeled. There was no question about that. But a sleep deprived Call was a trigger-happy Call, so he hoped Tamara didn't try any funny business if she decided to pop up. That or her partner. Although he didn't want to admit it, Call really hoped it was the latter. He swore his stomach was devouring his intestines, and that was only one of the things driving him insane.

The second factor, well...Call was beginning to feel tired of himself. He knew why other kids avoided him like the plague, being stuck in his own head every day was already hell enough. But being stuck in his head for twenty-four hours everyday, without a sleep break, and no outlet made him feel like he was a recently decapitated chicken, whose body still ran about, despite being headless, who had also recently been set aflame. That probably summed up his current mood too. 

It was going to be a long naptime.

It felt like years had passed by the time Havoc decided to finally wake. Call, who had successfully stayed awake the entire time, grouchily shifted his half-lidded gaze toward the dog.

    “Good morning Sleeping Beauty.” he said. 

Havoc licked his hand in response before stretching each of his hind legs delicately. Call had definitely compared him to the right thing, considering his over-the-top mannerisms. Once Havoc was finished, both stood and exited ‘their’ guestroom.

Neither wasted any time on starting the long trek up the staircase. They had been staying at a door fairly close to the bottom, and looking up, it seemed like they would have to pass about one hundred more doors before reaching the top. Call blinked his eyes hard and tried to withhold a tantrum. 

What sort of idiot architect built this sort of damn place?! 

Call really wanted to shoot everything in sight, excluding Havoc of course, just to spite everyone and everything. He felt rage tear through him and unconsciously began to pick at the charred skin on his arm. Unlike the other deeper cuts the Alura Une had healed, the burn he had received had not been healed. In fact, the wound wasn't even blistering. Call wasn't thinking too hard about it’s lack of healing, because the stinging sensation it was emitting distracted him from the burning pain of his bad leg. He really needed help. Help or a gallon of painkillers, either would work. The farther up they went, the more searing and urgent the pain became. Each step was like plunging further into hell. And then it hit him.

They had walked half way up the stairs and a delightful smell permeated the air. It was spicy, warm, and meaty. Call couldn't help but stop and inhale deeply, the aroma was driving him crazy. Havoc too seemed to catch a whiff, and both boys didn't walk a step further. They took to running up the remaining steps, their hunger the only factor pushing them to such lengths. 

Reaching the top, Call stared ahead voraciously, and found his eyes settling on a small figure. It was a skeleton, who was small in stature and dressed in a fancy tuxedo. On one arm he held a towel, and in the other, a steaming plate of curry and rice. Call salivated at the sight of it. Any fear of approaching a monster had completely dissipated in the face of Call’s all-encompassing hunger. 

“Come here…” Call whispered in a low and gentle voice, “Just give us the curry, and we won’t attack.”

The skeleton waiter clacked his jaw-bone softly, as if in response and began to walk forward. Call couldn't help but think the fellow was endearing. As he walked closer, Call could practically taste the spicy goodness settling on his tongue. The skeleton waiter was only a few feet ahead of him, when a figure came swooping in from nowhere. Call’s eyes scarcely caught the action. The figure collided with the waiter, sending both him and the plate of curry to the floor in one fatal swoosh. Havoc was on the spilled curry in seconds, devouring it speedily. Call's eyes did not water as he watched the curry disappear. The scattered bones of the small skeleton littered the floor, and the figure who had caused all the chaos in the first place stood, heroically. Like he had done something good.

    “Are you alright?” he asked kindly. 

Call wanted to shoot a million bullets into his pretty smiling face. Despite the fact that the boy that stood in front of him was obviously taller, better built, and most likely fully able to plummet him, Call’s rage knew no bounds. 

    “You-You-!” Call sputtered pathetically. He was about to cry about a plate of spilled curry, and he didn't care a bit about how pitiful he looked. “That was my curry…” his voice cracked, “That was my curry you mothe-”

Call had taken a step further, ready to shove his gun into the blonde boy’s face, but his body had violently rejected the idea. In the blonde’s hand was none other than the metal whip that Asian kid had hit Call with. His burned arm pulsed to life, the wound throbbing like it had been recently inflicted. Suddenly Call’s heart was clenched by an unbridled sense of fear. He had wanted to fight this guy, but suddenly his body simply turned tail and ran? 

    “I’m sorry about your curry, but uhm-” 

The boy didn't have a chance to finish as Call bolted in the opposite direction. He didn't know what took over him, but whenever the whip was within his vicinity all he wanted to do was get as far away as possible no matter what. He tripped over himself as he hurriedly began descending the stairs. Call didn't need to glance back to know the blonde was following him. His body kept pushing him to keep going, to get as far away from the other as possible. 

    “Stop running!” he heard the other boy call out. 

The blonde easily caught up with Call’s exhausted half-limp down the stairs and tried to pull Call to a stop. But Call was having none of it.

    “Don't touch me!” Call hissed, shoving the other boy hard. The blonde clearly looked taken aback.

It was at that moment that Call realized shoving people while running down a long flight of stairs, was not the smartest course of action. The blonde, obviously caught unaware by the shove, clung onto him to maintain balance. And Call, who could barely carry his own weight, could surely not carry the other boy. He crumbled underneath their combined weight, tumbling into a heap of flailing limbs. Both boys clung to each other as they tumbled down the flight of stairs, Havoc following after them barking. 

Their bodies slammed together like rag dolls, and when they finally reached the end of the staircase, they landed with so much force they broke the splintered wood planks and tumbled into the darkness below.

Chapter Text

Call’s entire body severely ached, - it was as if he had fallen down seven flights of stairs- but wait, he had fallen down a flight of stairs. He had fallen quite far actually, probably damaging his already less-than-sufficient head, and whatever else that had been working before. He groaned. 

 Attempting to stand seemed futile with the other boy collapsed on him, and Call immediately knew what that meant for himself. It meant it was his body that had broken the fall. He was probably in for a world of pain when he stood up, if he even was able to . He felt like he should be slightly mad that the other used him as a pillow, but considering the fact it was his fault they even ended up falling, he decided to kindly forgive that factor. 

A horrific thought flashed across Call’s mind.

 What if he had killed this guy? And what if he was Tamara’s partner? He would have slaughtered opportunities of both food and friendship in one go. That was a new low even for him.

Struck by a slight sense of worry, he immediately rose to his bruised elbows and surveyed the blonde boy. Debris littered his back, and dust matted his hair, yet nothing too grave seemed to have befallen him. The heaviest thing that had fallen probably was him, and he had landed on Call, so obviously he was alive...right?

Call was too weak to flip him and check his pulse, so he opted to tapping his cheek with the back of his finger. 

    “Hey… You're not dead right?” Call asked, not expecting a reply.

What he really didn't expect was for the boy to jerk upright, staring intently ahead. Green eyes met silver and time seemed to freeze. While Call really wasn't overly fond of staring contests, he just couldn't seem to break eye-contact this time. He blamed it on the fact that the boy sitting on him probably could have been Captain America’s child reincarnate, and just quite possibly, the most stereotypically attractive guy he had ever seen. With blonde hair, an upturned nose, and perhaps the brightest green eyes ever, not to mention his carved jaw, this guy had clearly been made with God’s utmost attention. And Call, well, he wasn't jealous at all. Nope, not one bit. 

Call blamed his sour attitude on lack of sleep and curry. Missing that sort of stuff could kill a person's optimism instantly. Take himself for instance.. 

"Did you hit your head on the way down, or do you just like staring at people?" Call questioned, though he was genuinely beginning to wonder if his own head was okay or not. 

"Oh uh r-right… Sorry." the boy stuttered, scrambling out of his initial position to right himself. 

As the blonde stood and started dusting himself off, Call turned his attention to the place they had fallen. The creepy wallpaper was gone, replaced by sturdy stone walls, which reminded Call of the first area he had entered in through. The only difference was the fact that these walls were barred by metal rods, making it look as if they were imprisoned within. 

In all honesty, Call was pretty sure they were stuck in Dracula’s castle until Tamara and her partner killed someone. That was what she had said right?

Shaking his head tiredly, Call continued his examination of the surrounding area. Blue flames illuminated the nearby stone, sending creeping shadows along the already darkened walls and Call thought he caught a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye, but his attention was quickly brought to the hand that reached out to him. It was the blonde’s hand. 

    “Aaron Stewart,” the boy introduced, flashing him a one-hundred kilowatt smile. Call almost squinted at the brightness of his grin. No one should be that happy in Dracula’s castle, “I’m sorry about chasing you, I didn't mean to scare you, but that Skeleton Waiter you were approaching could have seriously hurt you!” Aaron exclaimed.

    “What is he gonna do? Toss curry at me?” Call asked incredulously. Any mention of the delectable curry was eating away at Call’s mind, and the only thing that should have been eaten was the curry in the first place. And not solely by Havoc.

When Aaron began to nod earnestly, Call stifled a laugh at the thought of Aaron of all people being chased by mini curry-throwing skeletons, and decided to drop the subject altogether. He should be much too hungry to care.

    “Okay Aaron, two questions before you bombard me with yours,” Call started, efficiently shutting up the blonde before he could even start, “First, do you know Tamara and-”

    “You’ve met Tamara?!” 

Okay, well that hadn't been too hard. 

    “Yeah, but more importantly, please tell me you have more than one slice of bread to eat right now?”  He was going to die if he waited even five minutes more.

Aaron looked at him oddly, as if such a statement had never graced his ears before, which it probably hadn't,  but didn't question any further.

"I have a lot more than just one piece of bread." he assured.

Thankfully, Aaron carried all his belongings in a single bag, rather than a million tiny pouches like Tamara. Call really hoped that meant he would find the food faster.

Turning back to the shadowed wall, Call strained his eyes, searching for the movement his eyes had caught earlier. It only took a second before he found a familiar shape slumped at the base of the wall, kicking his paws occasionally. It was Havoc, who was so deep asleep, he twitched randomly, sending his shadow dancing across the wall. Call sighed fondly.

After watching the wolf doze for a few minutes, Call turned his attention back to Aaron. Seeing as he was still shuffling through his bag, Call fleetingly decided to start some small talk, but Aaron beat him to it.

    “I didn't seem to catch your name.” he said, pulling multiple containers from his bag.

    “Callum.” Call responded absentmindedly. He didn't know why, but the contents of those containers seemed a lot more important than anything that came from the blonde’s mouth. 

Aaron popped open the containers in what seemed like slow-motion, and Call watched in complete euphoria as different aromas greeted his nose. Pizza, steamed-buns, gyros, curry . Call’s eyes were as wide as saucers. 

    “I’ve been collecting everything I find, so there is plenty of variety…” Aaron’s words trailed off as he watched Call’s arm shoot out, at a bullet’s speed, to snatch a slice of pizza. Call himself didn't even know he had moved forward.

Call would apologize for his bad table manners in a moment, first he needed to eat.

Sinking his teeth into the crispy crust, Call actually thought he ascended to heaven for a moment. The cheesy greasiness coated his mouth in its pleasant flavour, mixing with the slight sweetness from the tomato sauce… Call never knew pizza could taste so good. 

Call felt Aaron staring at him in the beginning, but the other quickly joined in on his feasting, clearly just as starved as Call had felt. By the end of his gorging, Call had eaten three large slices of pizza,  two-steamed buns, an omelette, and three large scoops of ice-cream. Maybe he should have held back and only eaten two scoops. 

On a brighter note, Aaron’s containers didn't look like they had depleted at all in the end, and Call was glad because there was a lot more where that came from.

Having finally got the life energy he had lacked for days, Call’s mind whirred back to life...Slightly. 

    “Thanks,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck lamely. Better late than never, “You just saved a cripple’s life, the government should owe you.”

Aaron chuckled at that, his green eyes meeting Call’s. 

    “Yeah, well it's kind of my job…” he said, his eyes falling downcast, before flashing back upwards. It was brief, but Call caught the movement. He wondered what it meant. 

It was a sad kind of look, Call decided, and being the nice kid he was, he decided to change the subject. Dracula’s castle was hellishly depressing as it was, it didn't need any help. 

    “So can you prove you actually are Tamara’s partner?” Call asked.

Okay, maybe that wasn't the nicest, but he had to survive too. Now that his head was working, agreeing to eat an entire feast with a stranger didn't exactly add up as being the smartest thing to do. It sounded like something a child-kidnapper would do. Not that Aaron was one, but like Call had been saying the entire time, it was Dracula’s Castle after all.

Aaron seemed to think about his response for a moment, placing a contemplative hand underneath his chin. 

    “When Tamara gets annoyed with you she does this…” Aaron maneuvered his eyebrows with difficulty and tried to squint his eyes into a malice-laden glare, “this thing with her eyebrows.” he tried to explain, using his hands and face in an attempt to recreate her expression.

Call stared at the ridiculous expression that adorned the blonde's face. It only took a moment before he doubled over in laughter. Aaron’s expression had been so absurd, yet Call could tell he was trying really hard to prove his claim. And the funniest part of all was the fact he had actually looked like her for a split second. Call distinctly remembered her making such an expression when he had mentioned Christopher Lee.

Forget it, his head still wasn't working. It never had and it never was. Aaron probably thought he was a total nutcase.

    “I get it!” Call choked out, after his bout of mirthful laughter. 

Aaron lowered his head a bit bashfully when Call was finished with his dramatics, but he looked overall more happy than he had a few moments before. Call didn't take Aaron as the type to laugh at himself, so the improvement was a bit random, but he went with it. 

Call could work with this.

Chapter Text

After eating, Call finally felt like he had enough strength to try and stand on both feet. Havoc, sensing Call's intention, rose from his slumber and trotted over to his master's left side, fully ready to support him. 

Call bit his lip, fully immersed in the complications that came with standing. The last thing he wanted was to look weak in front of Aaron. The other boy had gotten up in a single graceful step, and while "graceful" was far beyond Call, he could at least try “normal”, which wasn't nearly as far of a stretch.

Placing a steadying hand on Havoc's scruff, he wobbled and rose to his feet trembling. Havoc sidled closer to him, pushing against his leg in encouragement.

Call really loved his pup.

Aaron, who had apparently been watching the entire time, was as white as a sheet. It was as if he had seen a ghost. Call bitterly wondered if it was because of his pathetic display. Acid burned in the pit of his stomach at the thought. Aaron had been nice, but it wasn't too late to show his true jerk colours. It was never too late for anybody.

"C-Callum," Aaron was grabbing for something on his belt, but his hand came back empty, “You know there is a warg standing right next to you!”

It took a few moments to really process what the other had said. To start, it hadn't been about Call at all, in fact, the cause of Aaron’s current anxiety was none other than Havoc. Sweet, innocent, young, and very un-intimidating Havoc. The last part Call was trying to understand was whether or not Aaron was asking a question or stating a fact. 

He wasn't really doing a very good job at deciphering that last part.  

    “Havoc isn't a warg, he’s my dog.” 

I thought we were in Twilight, not The Lord of the Rings, thought Call dully. Aaron continued to stare at him blankly.

    “That-that's your dog?” Aaron repeated, eyeing the wolf dubiously. 

    “Yes, he is,” Call deadpanned, “And could you quit looking at him like that? He has feelings too, you know.”

Call looked at Havoc who was currently wagging his tail excitedly. The dog could obviously tell he was the topic of conversation and was bathing in the attention, but obviously couldn't truly understand the extent of it. 

Call actually couldn't help but smile a bit, Havoc could be pretty darn cute when he wanted to be.

Aaron on the other hand quickly averted his gaze and cleared his throat awkwardly.

    “Did Tamara see your...dog?” he asked.

    “No, she didn’t, but that was cause’ Havoc wasn't with me at that time,” Call explained, “A few nights ago, Havoc ran away, and I followed his tracks here, and only found him chained up a few hours ago.”

    “Your ‘dog’ probably came here because his man-eating brothers called him back.” Aaron argued.

His statement unconsciously sent Call back to the time in the forest with Alistair. The fear and confusion that he had successfully locked in the back of his mind quickly came rushing to the forefront of his brain, clouding his thoughts. Call bit the inside of his cheek until he tasted iron.

As much as he wanted to blow Aaron’s opinion off, he couldn't because there was a chance he wasn't wrong. Havoc had specifically ran away on the night of a solar eclipse, and it was on this same night that his dad tried his hardest to keep him inside. It was like they both knew about something and didn't bother to tell Call about it. But now he knew what they had been hiding, the existence of Dracula's castle.

Call swallowed thickly. 

The only piece that was missing was his own involvement. Why had Alastair tried so hard to keep him from this place? The simple answer was obviously to keep him safe, to keep him from being mauled to death by monsters, but Call knew in the core of himself that things couldn't have been so straightforward. 

When Havoc’s tail bumped against his leg, he suddenly remembered that he had been holding a conversation with someone. Call secretly hoped he didn't look as shaky as felt. 

    “As if,” he bit back. “Look, if Havoc really wanted to kill you, don't you think he would have done it when we were passed out?”

Aaron seemed to contemplate his words and then cast a sympathetic gaze towards the shorter boy.

The seemingly pitiful gaze made Call’s blood boil. 

    “Look, Callum-” Aaron started.

    “ Call. ” 

    “Call, look, I’m not trying to play the bad guy here, okay? There are a lot of monsters around, and the last thing I want to do is to put either of us in more danger than we already are in. I'm just trying to protect us both here okay?”

Call scoffed.

    “Well I just want to protect him,” he said, motioning towards the ecstatic puppy.

Aaron gave Call a very strained look.

With Aaron unwilling to back down, Call simply knew he couldn't be the first one to yield. Call would stare until his eyes reddened and shed tears. He could stare forever if he wanted. When Aaron finally blinked, Call knew he had won their intense stare-off. That, and that he could finally blink again. His eyes really had begun to water.

    “Okay Call, I guess I’ll have to trust you both for now...” the blonde relented, “Your dog won’t bite right?”

Call smirked toothily.

    “Havoc doesn't bite but I sure as hell do.”

Aaron’s eyes widened at Call’s bold declaration, his neck twisting so fast, Call thought it might snap. It didn't, it instead served to hide the blonde’s expression as he muttered some affirmation under his breath. Call couldn't even catch what exactly he had muttered.

Aaron then proceeded to poke at the fallen debris that littered the ground, in search of something or another. 

Call turned to Havoc, completely baffled. Had his comment really been so shocking that Aaron turned away, completely repulsed? Or could it be that Aaron really believed him? 

Call’s eyes lingered on the seared flesh of his arm, his memories resurfacing. He had been called a ‘vampire’ and now he was making jokes about biting people. Call gulped nervously, wondering why his brain suddenly decided to connect the two thoughts. 

Call decided to quickly save what was left of his untarnished reputation and squatted next to Aaron, pretending to aid in his search. 

    “I uh, don't actually bite people.” Call reassured the blonde after a few seconds of sitting within his vicinity. He tried to naturally accentuate his teeth, to prove they were truly blunt when he spoke, but he wasn't sure if it worked. He didn't understand why he felt such a need to disprove the fact that he was a vampire, after all it wasn't like Aaron knew about the Asian kid or any such accusations. But it was all in favour of being cautious, he told himself.

Call swallowed nervously when Aaron mumbled another response, his face still turned opposite of his own. Call wondered if he had accidentally encroached upon some hidden childhood trauma that included biting and vampires. Call chewed his lip in thought, trying not-very subtly to change the conversation.

“So what exactly are you looking for?” he asked. 

Aaron did turn his face this time, yet there was no trace of the negative emotions Call had originally suspected. There was, however, a mischievous glint in Aaron’s eye when he spoke.

    “I’m looking for my whip,” Aaron replied, pausing a moment to scan Call’s face before continuing, “What are you looking for?”

It was Call’s turn for his eyes to widen. He hadn't really expected to be called out, and now he needed to come up with something fast to save his ever-decaying pride. He needed to think of something cunning or witty, but neither his warming cheeks nor Aaron's ever-present stare were helping to meet that end. Aaron should really just stop staring at people in general actually, that would probably help on more levels than one. 

"Havoc." Call stated.

"Havoc?"

"Havoc, he uh, he lost his...collar. I've been looking for his collar." Call said. It sounded fake even to his own ears.

Havoc, having heard his name said many times, quickly trotted over to the duo happily. After nosing at Call's hand, to which the boy gave a slightly perplexed and pleading look to the pup, he decided to investigate the other figure sitting nearby. 

Aaron froze as Havoc neared him, staring at the dog with owlishly round eyes. Havoc gently sniffed his hand and then sat expectantly in front of the blonde, staring at him earnestly.

Call groaned aloud, his earlier embarrassment completely forgotten.

"Dear god! Please tell me you're not about to hold a staring contest with Havoc too?! "

Aaron quickly diverted his gaze to look at Call, obviously taken aback.

    "What do you mean by staring contests??" Aaron asked, before glancing nervously at Havoc again, "Is he looking at me like that for a reason?"

Call didn't know if he felt like laughing or crying. He settled for something in between.

"Look, Havoc just wants you to pat his head." Call muttered in a slightly dejected manner. Aaron's first question didn't even deserve a response.

Aaron hesitantly reached to pat Havoc's head lightly. And it was as if a miracle happened, because Aaron actually began to smile. He rubbed Havoc's head purposefully after the first pat, grinning boyishly as the wolf nuzzled closer to him. 

When Aaron smiled it was as if the weariness that had lined his face dissolved, returning him to the pure and untouched time of his youth. It was then, Call realized, that Aaron couldn't have been much older than him. Give or take a few years, if any at all, and they might have shared the same class at school. The thought made Call unknowingly sorrowful for some reason.  

While he was feeling a bit sad for the other boy, Call felt mostly exasperatedly relieved and salty. 

What a combination of emotions he thought to himself dryly. 

The ‘exasperated’ part stemmed from the frustration of having Havoc’s attention on someone other than himself, while the ‘relieved’ part came from Aaron's kind act of not kicking Havoc away. The gruff-looking wolf happened to have a sensitive heart.

The last and most intense emotion, though, derived itself from the very pit of Call’s soul. The place was a stew of angry, bitter, and negative emotions, whose only joy was to suck the very joy out of him. And the sentiment that decided to rear its ugly head that day, was a vile mix of bitterness and jealousy, or to say it plainly: saltiness.

Call chewed his lip thoughtfully, maybe he had been going a little overboard about how salty he felt, but he was but a traumatized kid, and Havoc was his dog. 

    “Well, I’m glad that developed fast.” Call said aloud and quite unenthusiastically. “Shouldn't we be getting a move on or something?”

Aaron actually had the gall to giggle as Havoc licked his face, but he quickly straightened up at Call’s words. He stood up, (apparently done looking for his whip, which Call was very grateful for) dusted his vest off, and looked at Call childishly. 

    “You're right,” Aaron said, before patting Havoc on the head twice, “You were just- he- Havoc, he really is a really friendly dog. I wasn't expecting him to be so nice...or fluffy.”

Call felt pride swell within himself. He had spent more minutes trying to wash Havoc in the demon bathhouse than himself, and the fact that it actually paid off was good to know. 

    “Yeah well, you can thank Dracula’s amazing plumbing system.” Call casually said, walking as he spoke. “I don't think I ever washed him- or even myself in such a big bathtub.”

As Call walked ahead, he didn't realize Aaron wasn't following behind him. The blonde was too busy gaping in shock at Call’s most recent statement.

    “You took a bath in this place?!” Aaron gasped.

Call spun around on his foot, watching as Aaron’s expression contorted into shock. He then began to slowly walk backward, making sure to keep Aaron within his view.

    “Yeah, I know it's crazy, but we were both covered in blood and-”

    “I thought you weren't injured!” Aaron exclaimed, staring at Call.

Call vaguely remembered his idea of ‘not telling anyone anything’. There would have to be changes to his original dumb plan, but he would still have to hide some things. Constantine and his burn were high on that list. 

    “Well, it's a long story-”

Call’s words were forgotten as he cried out in surprise. He had been walking backward, only to find there was no path for his foot to fall upon. Call thought he had slipped over a small pothole but instead found the entirety of the stone pathway cut short. He was falling, he realized. But it was only for a moment, as he plunged deeply into a perilous black body of water.

Bubbles swirled around him as he fell into the endlessly dark pool. It was so piercingly cold he felt his skin begin to sting and his body began to shake, but that was by far the least concerning thing. Call could feel the water around him moving, it was as if a current was pushing against him, yet if this was a secluded body of water within the castle, there shouldn't have been a current. Call struggled fruitlessly as he tried to swim to the top of the water.

The only explanation was that there was something else in the water with him. It had to have been large enough to create the current, and it was swimming straight toward him.

Chapter Text

Call pushed his entire body up as fast as he could manage, he wasn't going to wait around to get turned into fish food. Even if he was almost paralyzed by fear, his lungs needed fresh air, and fast. 

As Call fervently swam, his eyes caught sight of movement in his peripheral vision. While the movement seemed small, the current that pushed him backwards said otherwise. The realization  sent Call’s mind into a flurry of terror. He struggled to swim higher and higher, his arms and legs moving faster than ever, but even reaching the top of the pool offered no reprieve. 

A thick layer of ice covered the shore, leaving Call trapped beneath it’s unforgiving surface. He wasted no time in pounding on the ice with all his might, in hope to break it, or to alert Aaron to his location, but alas, neither did the ice splinter nor did Aaron show up. Call heard his own heart pounding fiercely in his own ears. With a monster at his tail and oxygen running low, he was getting exceedingly more frightened for his life. In his last throes of desperation, Call pulled his father’s gun from his belt and shot at the ice incessantly. The holes it created were small, unhelpful even, but Call didn't stop shooting. 

His time was up. Bubbles floated everywhere around him as his mouth opened, gasping for the oxygen it couldn't separate from the hydrogen molecules that surrounded him. As water began to fill his lungs, he thrashed the ice for a last time, only to find a long crack form above. Call threw the entirety of his body against it, listening thankfully as he heard the remaining ice crack and fall away. Using the last of his strength, he pulled himself from the treacherous black sea and collapsed on the thick ice sheet.

Having finally reached solid ground, Call coughed forcefully in his efforts to expel the water from his lungs. His body seemed to shake violently as shivers racked the entirety of his frame and small crystalline patches of frost blossomed on his skin.

 It might have been cool if he hadn't been watching his own body practically freeze. That stole away any sense of cool-ness. 

Call tried to stand, after all, what better way to combat frost than to get the blood in his body pumping. However, his attempt failed miserably as his legs wobbled under his weight, the fear and frost still debilitating his movements. He didn't fall, however; his arm was caught by a strong hand. It held him upright in a firm, yet not painful grip. 

Call glanced upwards to find an unfamiliar man standing before him. He was tall, taller than Alistair, and had a thin elongated nose. His face was lined with age, but Call doubted it hindered the man’s strength. The guy looked like a Russian hitman, for crying out loud.

 He would need both Aaron and Havoc’s help to defeat such a tough looking opponent, but neither of them seemed to be within the icy enclosure. Call was very alone.

    “W-Who are you ?” Call croaked, his eyes searching frantically for his gun. The man found it first and kicked it away, sending the gun skittering across the ice noisily. The young boy watched as his last chance of survival slowly fell away. 

Dammit! Call cursed in his head. Having escaped both a sea monster and drowning, he just had to go and get caught by some older creepy dude.

"The importance of who I am, is quickly forgotten in the face of such great power," the man said. His voice was gravelly and low, and Call mostly just felt glad he hadn't pulled out any life threatening weapons yet.

"You're talking about the giant fish...right?" Call asked, he hadn't really expected him to reveal his identity anyway. He could pretend to be civil. It wasn't like his mouth ever got him in trouble.

The man chuckled darkly, but his eyes held no amusement. He looked just about ready to skin Call alive and sell his internal organs on the black market. Or maybe just brutally murder him, but it didn't really matter considering he would be dead in both situations.

    “No, Callum, I am talking about you,” the man replied coolly. “The dark powers you possess dominate everything in this castle, just as they are meant to.”

    “How do you know my name? And what are you talking about ‘dark powers’? I'm just a normal kid,” Call said. He was no longer feeling as scared, but rather more confused. This was practically the last thing he had been expecting.

"Your name is just a miniscule detail within the hoards of knowledge I contain… But there is no time for that now, " the man said, pausing to examine Call hungrily. 

Call very suddenly wished he was back swimming with the sea monster while simultaneously drowning. 

"You see Callum, the power you command is called 'The Power of Dominance'," he explained, ever watchful of Call's face. "After defeating the soul of any monster within the castle, you claim it." 

Call's mouth hung open.

"So you think I have magic? Look, even if I did believe you, there's absolutely no reason for me to trust you or anything you say."

"No, boy, I am telling you you have magic!" Call almost flinched as the man's tone grew in volume and the man immediately continued in a softer tone. "Callum, do you remember when the Alura Une came and healed you?"

Call nodded solemnly, his earlier burst of confidence completely drained.

"That is because, having defeated her before, you were able to dominate her soul and use it to your benefit."

Call’s mind began to shudder to life. If this man had apparently seen Call find Havoc, he obviously must have been hiding in the room before he got there. He must have been the despicable person to have hit his dog. His mind was reeling.

"Were you the one who chained up Havoc?! Are you the one who hurt him?!" Call asked, enraged.

"All things happen for a purpose Callum," the man said, beginning to walk away.

Call did not feel particularly inclined to stop him in search of answers. The man had practically just admitted to beating his dog and blamed it on fate. He deserved a bullet in the face.

The man stopped abruptly, and he turned once more to face the young boy. Call stopped inching towards his gun.

"After the defeat of Rahab, you will obtain his soul and acquire the power to breathe underwater. That is when you will know I have spoken truthfully," he smiled creepily at the boy. "And if I were in your position, I wouldn't be overly friendly with the Belmonts, when it comes to dark magic, they don't seem to think so much as kill."

Call swallowed thickly.

    “Yeah? Well you think I’m gonna get friendly with a dog-abuser then?”

When Call looked up to see if the man had heard his comment, he had already disappeared. The walls of the room seemed to shake after the mysterious man’s departure, and Call watched the sealed ice slowly rise to give way to the hallway he had originally fallen out of. It looked like something from an Indiana Jones movie.

But more importantly, both Aaron and Havoc were awaiting for him on the other side. As soon as Aaron caught sight of him, he jumped onto the ice delicately and dashed toward him. Havoc, although a bit more distressed about jumping on ice, followed after him eagerly. Call would be lying if that didn't warm his heart just a little bit. Just Havoc though, Aaron was still new and mostly weird.

    “I’m okay guys, no need to slip and rush over-”

Aaron didn't seem to have any trouble keeping balance on the ice sheet, and upon reaching Call, quickly grabbed his face in both hands efficiently shutting the other boy up.

    “Call, your lips are turning blue!” he exclaimed, staring intently at his lips. 

Call hadn't realized just how cold he had felt until Aaron had placed his warm hands on his face. He might have felt embarrassed about it, but considering the fact- wait no that was definitely embarrassing. Aaron was probably just a touchy guy. Call’s tongue quickly darted past his lips, testing to see how damaged his tissue was. When he only felt a slight pang, he sighed in relief.

He missed Aaron’s observant gaze.

    “Yeah, it's just frostbite, I should be fine. Let’s just get out of this place already. Oh and could you get your hands off my face?”

Aaron’s hand’s dropped like they had been burned. Maybe they had been, after all ice could burn too, but Call didn't ask too much. He was too busy embracing Havoc. His warmth was welcome.

Chapter Text

The touching reunion didn't last anywhere near as long as Call had hoped. The ice underneath them suddenly began to shake, sending tiny splinters of frost everywhere. Call watched it for a moment before a mild shock went through him.

"There's a giant fish underneath us."

Aaron raised his bowed head, on his face was a slightly perplexed look.

"What?" he asked.

Call had barely opened his mouth to respond when the ice cracked along with any lasting serenity. He had thought the ice sheet was too thick to be cracked by a fish, but apparently he had underestimated the beast... Or overestimated the ice, considering the trouble he had gone through to break it.

The fish, -rather the serpentine monstrosity- had broken through the ice sheet easily with its armoured beak and was currently leaping over both himself and Aaron. It’s toughened body easily shattered the ice on the opposite side of the room, falling in a similar way to a dancer’s ribbon… Only this was neither delicate nor beautiful. It felt like minutes had passed before the entire length of the monster had disappeared back into the water. The force of it’s jump was so powerful, it smashed through the remaining sheet of ice, separating Call and Havoc from Aaron. Call couldn't help but feel overwhelmed at the sight.

    “Rahab isn't a fish, Call!” Aaron called out from his frosty platform. The blonde quickly unsheathed his sword, gazing around the surrounding water nervously. “Just leave this one to me! If you stay back, he shouldn’t attack you!”

Seeing that Aaron wasn't unarmed without the hell-whip, made Call feel slightly more at ease, as did the fact he seemed so confident, but when Rahab emerged once again, Call felt his skin prickle with fear. Aaron and his cool sword looked like an ant readying a twig in defence of a giant. The image wasn't the least bit comforting.

Rahab towered high above the black pool, even though Call could still see the majority of his body remained hidden in the blackened depths. His body was as long as his girth was wide, and as if to top it off, the entirety of his flesh was covered in metallic armoured scales. His dorsal fin was spiked in a wicked manner, fit to slice any unfortunate person who tried to get near his backside. He was near impenetrable.

 Call tried desperately to search for some weak point, or anything of the like, but was quickly distracted as Rahab opened his jaws. A pillar of snow and ice shot from the monster’s maw. Pure frost covered the area where Aaron had previously stood, and a deafening loud roar resounded within the room, causing the icicles that had covered the ceiling to drop carelessly. Both Havoc and Call dived within the freezing water in an attempt to dodge the spear-like projectiles. They narrowly escaped. 

Having been forcefully reintroduced to the unforgiving  depths, Call was finally given a moment to try to think. Hopefully Aaron could hold Rahab off for a bit on his own. Not that Call had been being the most helpful anyway.

His first thought was of arming himself. Peering around the murky depths, a faint glimmer of silver caught his eye. Alistair’s silver gun. He was glad he had caught sight of it before it could have fallen any deeper, lest he lose his father’s last memento. Once he had obtained his firearm,  he quickly swam to the shore, reuniting with both Havoc and oxygen. Call waded in place, taking into account the situation.

Things weren’t looking so good… Aaron was constantly flipping backwards, unable to get close enough to even land a single strike, and even his flips didn't seem to go back far enough. Rahab was so gigantic, nothing seemed to evade his all-encompassing body. The blonde finally caught onto this fact, and braced himself as the beast began to swipe at him. Instead of dodging like he had previously, Aaron used the force of the attack to cling onto the monster’s back. Call saw the error within his actions immediately. 

“Aaron-! Don't-! His spiked fin-!”

But his words were swallowed by the shriek that followed.  Aaron’s hand had been sliced through completely. Despite the pained cry, he didn't stop moving. With his good hand he gripped his sword, and cleaved the spike from the monster’s back, efficiently freeing his injured hand. Within the same second Aaron discarded his own sword, instead using the carved bone as his new weapon, and struck down between the plated metal scales with as much force as he could manage. 

It was Rahab’s turn to roar, all while he flailed wildly in an effort to dislodge his own bone from his back. The bone stayed lodged quite firmly, but Aaron was flung from his back like a ragdoll. Call watched in horror as the blonde hit the surface of the water with a small splash. His fallen form resembled a forlorn stone, carelessly tossed away to be lost to the ages of time. Only Call couldn't lose Aaron just yet.  He needed to move fast, he needed to save Aaron. 

Call dived into the water and swam as fast as he could. His muscles were numb with cold, but he ignored the soreness in favour of saving the other. Before he had dived he had watched an enraged Rahab also dive after the blond. Call could only hope he would reach him first. Beating a one hundred meter sea-monster didn't exactly add up to being plausible, but who was he to listen to reason? The entirety of Dracula’s castle seemed to defy it anyway.

Call reached Aaron just as Rahab’s bulky form swam forward, his mouth wide. Rows and rows of dagger-like teeth lined the inside of his mouth, illuminated only by the reflection of water against his silver gun. The sight made Call’s blood turn to ice, but he didn't have time to dwell on his overcoming fear. A strong force was dragging both Call and Aaron toward Rahab’s awaiting jaws. He was sucking them into his mouth. 

Call didn't even bother with the implications of what was going on, he only knew he wanted to get Aaron away. Using all the strength he could muster, he shoved the other’s unconscious body as hard as he could. Which apparently was pretty hard considering Aaron’s body floated a small distance away. His shove wasn't enough to combat the force of the current, however, and slowly but surely Aaron’s limp body began to float back towards Rahab’s jaws. As if on cue, Havoc nabbed the rim of Aaron’s collared jacket and paddled away at a steady speed. 

The relief that washed through Call was indescribable, and for a single tranquil moment, he felt a certain peace wash over him at the sight of Havoc swimming away with Aaron’s unconscious form. The moment ended far too quickly. Call quickly regained his senses, now he was the one about to fall into Rahab’s menacing maw. Only this time, there was no one to shove him out of the way.

The water pushed Call far enough down the monster’s throat to avoid him being squashed into nothingness within his massive jaws. The temperature inside of the monster’s body seemed to drop even lower, almost paralysing Call with hypothermia. The thought made him silently grateful he hadn't fallen into the mouth of a fire-breathing dragon. He definitely would have been toast if that was the case.

Call felt himself falling once again as Rahab began to move. The water pushed him further down the monster’s throat no matter how hard he tried to cling to the saliva coated walls. The repulsive thought combined with the stench of rot made him feel dangerously nauseous, but he regained his senses instantly as he felt a piercing sensation in his upper thighs. He had landed on something. The sensation was pain, he realized after the remaining water washed over him. Both the feeling of pain and presence of oxygen slightly placated his antagonized mind.

 Rahab had probably returned to standing upright, allowing Call to both breathe and fall in a downwards motion; landing on whatever horrible thing was currently cutting through his flesh right now.

 What sort of monster had spikes on the inside of its throat?

Aaron’s heroic actions flashed through Call’s mind in response and he audibly gasped. He had landed on the sharp bone Aaron had cut from Rahab’s back, which he had graciously shoved back in. A sickly idea formed in Call’s mind… If Rahab was impenetrable from the outside, then it was only fair for his inside to be weak. 

From his position, he lowered himself with difficulty until his feet landed on an indent within the beast’s esophagus. From there he placed his hands on the underside of the bone, and pushed. The bone cut through his palms, sending small rivulets of blood to cascade down Call’s arms, but it froze almost as soon as it was drawn. The small observation shook Call. If he didn't cut through the entirety of Rahab’s throat, and then through his head in the next five to ten minutes, there was a chance he could drop dead from hypothermia alone. Call distinctly remembered his father telling him this, while simultaneously wrapping him in as many jackets as they owned. Call shuddered wishing he had those jackets now.

With this thought in mind, he dragged the bone further within Rahab’s esophagus, as to avoid the resistant metal plating which would definitely slow him down. He felt Rahab begin to flail once again, but the motion barely affected Call. The freezing temperature numbed all of his wounds, his injured leg included, so much that he didn't even have to think about the pain any longer. He only had to push forward. 

By the time he saw Rahab’s teeth again, Call felt as if his flesh was being set aflame. He felt so irritably hot, he wanted to rip the very clothes from his figure and dance on Rahab’s corpse naked. The thought was weird, even for him. He didn't even like to dance, much less strip naked. Plus Aaron and Havoc were both waiting for him. The thought sobered his frost-ridden mind, and Call belatedly realized he wasn't moving anymore. The last time he heard Rahab move- or even roar felt like hours ago. 

Heedlessly, Call tore the bone from Rahab’s throat and used it to prop open his heavy maw. Rahab didn't move an inch. He was dead, Call concluded. He didn't know when he had died, but he really couldn't care less either. All that mattered was that he would never get up and trouble them again. 

Finally escaping the stinking corpse he had been trapped in for so long couldn't have done more wonders for Call’s head. The air seemed to be warmer, fresher even, and everything seemed brighter, in an odd sort of way. After his first steps onto solid ice, his legs gave out, sending Call plunging into the water for the millionth time. He startled a bit as a cooling sensation overtook his burning nerves. Even the water seemed brighter, it looked more blue, more serene...Call gave a small gasp as his eyes latched onto the sight of his palms. 

The flesh was ripped hideously. It looked so mutilated Call barely recognized it as his own hands. But more terrifying than that was his breath. Just moments earlier Call had gasped, he had- and was taking steady breaths, despite the fact he was submerged almost wholly under water. Whoever that man had been, he had been right. And that fact scared Call  more than he would have liked to admit.

Chapter Text

The realization made Call feel heavy, and the calming effect the water previously had on him seemed to dissipate, as if it had never been there before. He needed to find Havoc and Aaron quickly. They had spent enough time in this hellishly cold place. 

A well-timed bark alerted Call to their location: a single piece of ice floating on the water undisturbed. Aaron was sprawled messily on his back; his fingers dipping into the water in a haphazard manner. Call could see the hole in the centre of his palm from his previous injury. He could see the blood dripping. Call suddenly felt glad the other boy was still unconscious. 'Quiet and suspiciously pale' Aaron was better than a 'fully-awake and obviously hurting' Aaron.

The blonde's scream really had perturbed him. Despite not wanting to admit it aloud, hearing Aaron, who had been so well kept the entire time, lose his composure and scream really did a number on his mind. 

Putting his thoughts aside, Call crossed the distance easily, pushing their temporary ice boat to the ledge opposite from where they had come in. Next came the hard part. 

Havoc, being the only one who didn't harbour any injuries, effortlessly jumped across the small opening, landing on solid ground perfectly. Call on the other hand had to somehow get both himself and Aaron across, which was definitely easier said than done. Even the small act of flipping Aaron onto his back proved difficult. 

 The sight he was greeted with, however, overpowered his struggles. The ice underneath Aaron was dyed crimson with blood. 

Call almost choked. He had never seen so much blood in his life. He needed to find the source and suppress it. It couldn't have all come from his hand, that wouldn't make any sense. The young boy dropped to his knees, examining the other closely and gasped as his eyes caught sight of the injury. A large slash cut down the entirety of Aaron's chest, splitting his metal armour like it was paper. Aaron most likely obtained such an injury when he had been tossed carelessly into the sea. His body must have slightly nicked one of Rahab’s spikes. Had it been anything more than the slightest of scrapes, Call was pretty sure Aaron's organs would have been accompanying all the blood. Glancing at the sight once more, he felt his stomach flip and instinctively wet his lips. He knew what he had to do. 

Closing his eyes, he felt for the familiar tug of power, the familiar pull of magic deep within the core of himself. Although he had only done it once, the action came naturally to him. Dark magic came naturally to him. Call almost faltered in his casting as the traitorous thought protruded his mind, but he knew he had to focus on Aaron. 

It only took a moment for him to accumulate enough power to conjure her.

The Alura Une hovered above Aaron’s limp body and golden dust once again fell from her fingers, falling with a mystical sort of beauty. She didn't glance at Call this time, her focus solely trained on Aaron, just as his own was. Call couldn't help but feel as if his powers weren't so bad. It may have been dark magic, yet it was being used for a good purpose. If Aaron learned of this, he couldn't hate Call for it...Could he? Not that his opinion mattered anyway.

Call watched it for a moment longer, before a sinking realization hit him. It wasn't enough. The golden dust was falling surely, but it wasn't healing fast enough. Aaron was still losing too much blood. Call needed more power, he needed more strength. Closing his eyes, Call no longer tugged lightly at the sensation of magic, he yanked with as much force as he could muster.

The golden pollen continued to fall delicately, as if Call hadn't changed a thing at all, but upon touching Aaron's skin it flickered, sealing the flesh almost instantly. Call watched intently, his grey eyes wide with horrified fascination as Aaron's tissue began to regrow. It took a moment for him to notice he was shaking. His body was trembling with the exertion of using such power, but he couldn't stop, not yet. Call spat warm blood from his mouth, crumbling into himself like a wounded animal. He just needed to maintain the spell for a moment longer. Aaron let out a soft groan.

When Aaron stirred, Call flinched, lost concentration, and released the spell immediately; a whole new wave of fatigue washed over him. 

    “Call?” the blonde mumbled blearily. Aaron sat up with ease, his voice unhindered by any pain. Upon hearing Aaron’s clear voice, Call also righted his position, gazing at the other intently. Aaron’s tunic was still bloodied, but his chest was smooth. There wasn't even a scar left behind. 

    “Looks pretty good to me…” Call muttered more to himself than Aaron. The blonde’s eyes resembled saucers, yet Call continued on without missing a beat. “Anyway, now that you're awake and can move yourself, let's get outta’ here.”

    “Wha-Wait-! Call!” Aaron stood as Call did, following him closely as he pulled himself onto the ledge. “What about Rahab? What about-  Did you kill him? Also wasn’t I injured?”

Call felt an oncoming headache ready to accompany his hypothermia and overall lethargic state. It honestly felt just about as exciting as answering Aaron’s barrage of questions. 

“Yeah, he’s dead...Could you just,” Call bit his lip, trying to force a pleasant tone, “Please start a fire before my ass freezes off? I’ll explain the details once I get feeling back in my toes.”

Aaron looked a bit taken aback, but nodded compliantly and set to making the fire. Call felt glad he got stuck with someone so easy-going. He hadn't really meant to order Aaron around, he just wanted a moment or two to factor everything in his head. That and make up plausible excuses for his magic, because Aaron didn't suddenly forget about the severe wounds he received. Call had to think fast.

Why would a nobody like him have magic? Being completely truthful with himself, even he couldn't fathom the answer to this question. The only reason he knew about his ‘magic’ was because of that old freak who had apparently been watching Call the entire time. Neither his magic nor the old freak could be brought up to Aaron, so what could he tell him? Call inhaled deeply, ready to sigh, until a cough escaped his throat. He really was feeling cold.

    “You okay?” Aaron asked, plopping beside him. Their shoulders knocked together familiarly and Call almost felt as if they were close friends sitting for a friendly chat. It was definitely one of his dumber thoughts.  

Call grunted his response, still shivering. In spite of Havoc’s warm body pressed against him, and the warm crackling of the newly-made fire, he still felt cold. It was like his skin was thawing, but his heart remained frozen. Call was about to sink into the endless abyss of his negative thoughts; however, in the corner of his eye he caught Aaron’s gaze lingering on him. Maybe Aaron was sensitive too, maybe he could feel Call’s anxiety and decided not to press him for answers. 

    “So...You ready to talk about it?”

Or maybe not, maybe Aaron was just another idiot. 

    “So basically, after you stabbed Rahab with his own spike, I got swallowed by him and from there I landed on the bone you stuck inside his throat. And then I cut his throat all the way up and came out,” Call explained vaguely. He hoped Aaron would take it smoothly. Afterall, this was the only part he was planning to tell truthfully. 

Aaron nodded his head, his brows furrowed as he began to process what Call had just said. After a moment the blonde looked ready to ask his next question, but Call wasn't anywhere near ready to answer it. He would have to carry on the conversation until he came up with a decent answer. 

    “Who the heck sends a bunch of kids to Dracula’s castle to fight freaking monsters anyway?”

Aaron blinked at him, obviously caught unaware by the question. After a brief moment of silence, the blonde spoke, his expression guarded. 

    “I came here to fulfill my duty… Tamara just came along to support me… We work for an organization called Ecclesia, but I’m not really sure if I’m supposed to talk about it.”

Call opened his mouth, ready to ask another question, but Aaron beat him to it. He caught on to the flow of things surprisingly fast. 

    “What about you? If you met Tamara, I’m sure she took you to a resting point. Why didn't you stay there? Aren't you scared?” 

Call might have felt offended if anyone other than Aaron asked the same question, but the blonde had turned out to be surprisingly genuine. If he was the one asking this question, he couldn't have been doing it in a mocking manner, or even an invasive manner. Just simple and pure curiosity.

Ignoring the intent, it was still a surprisingly deep question, and technically a cheat of the system, considering he asked two questions instead of one, but Call wasn't going to point that out, he would just have to ask two questions too.

    “Well, I heard Havoc crying when I was sitting in that room and I knew I had to save him. No matter what. And anyway, after that, we went looking for,” For my dad, Call finished in his thoughts. For some reason he couldn't say it, he couldn't say ‘dad’. Although saying it aloud wouldn't change anything, Call felt it would validate that his father was truly gone. “For someone,” he finished belatedly. 

His body seemed to have completely defrosted now, seeing as his palms were stinging. He would have to heal them using the Alura Une later, for now he just had to keep them out of sight. Luckily, the room they currently inhabited barely had any light, which helped cover his injuries, but the downside to that was how eerily creepy the rest of the room seemed. The campfire illuminated only the area close to them, leaving shadowy images to flicker across the stone walls. Call unconsciously scooted closer to Aaron, despite their already close proximity. If Aaron minded the motion, he didn't show it. 

The golden fire illuminated Aaron’s features nicely, casting a warm glow over his pale skin. The colour didn't suit him, Call figured someone like Aaron spent a lot of time outside, playing sports or something of the like. He must have become this way from being stuck in ‘Dracula’s Castle’ for so long.

    “Play any sports?” Call asked, just for the heck of it. 

Aaron smiled childishly, his previous gloominess completely gone. 

“How did you know? I play soccer!” 

Call almost smiled at the response he had expected. 

    “What can I say? I’m a natural at this sort of thing.”

    “Okay,” the mischievous glint was back in Aaron’s eyes, “Let me hear your best guesses.”

Call took one glance at Aaron’s face and chewed his lip.

    “You make really good grades, everyone at school likes you, you're popular without trying and- wait a second, do you even go to school?”

    “I mean, a little bit...I do go to school, Ecclesia teaches us and trains us,” Aaron explained, “But I don't think everyone likes me.”

 Big surprise he was humble too. 

Call actually did laugh aloud this time.  He may or may not have just quoted a stereotype to Aaron, but honestly who was keeping track of such things? 

    “W-why are you laughing?” Aaron asked self-consciously. Although Call couldn't tell for sure, his cheeks looked a little red under the firelight. “I bet you're the type to pretend to be like a cool kid on the outside, but you're actually really nice on the inside. Am I right?”

Call’s laughing fit ended in a single cough as the accuracy of Aaron’s statement pierced straight into the depths of his soul. Call gaped at him a little, torn between being cross or shocked.

It was his turn to be embarrassed, and he turned his head in the opposite direction as Aaron erupted into his own fit of laughter. 

    “Yeah, yeah you weren't that accurate. I'm really not that nice, just so you know,” Call  grumbled. When Aaron continued to laugh Call nudged him with his elbow, “Don't laugh too hard Aaron, I’m still sitting here you know.”

Both boys calmed a bit after laughing, and Call, with his back pressed to Aaron’s side, finally felt warmth surge through him. It was a pleasant soothing sort of feeling. It lulled him to sleep easily, sending promises of hope and friendship to linger in his dreams. And maybe, just maybe Call wasn't afraid to hope for a friend.

Chapter Text

Call slept like he was a dead man. He hadn't felt super tired after chatting with Aaron or anything, but when his eyelids fell shut, they seemed pretty intent on staying that way. The pleasant state of sleep erased his worries, leaving him dreamless, but quite content. Most of the dreams he probably would have had at this point would have been nightmares. He definitely wouldn't mind forgoing those. Sometime in between the long hours, Call felt Aaron’s weight shift before his warmth fully disappeared. Instead of investigating like his barely conscious mind wanted, Call simply repositioned himself, cuddling into Havoc’s fluff. Sleep overtook his senses once again. 

When Call truly awoke, it happened in the midst of his turning. He hadn't really planned on getting up during this turn, but his ears naturally picked up the sounds of hushed voices and his mind forced itself to try and understand the purposefully quieted words. He didn't really want to get up yet, but listening closely, he was able to glean out a girl’s voice and another familiar voice… His mind wasn't sharp enough to identify them yet. Rather than getting up and exposing himself, Call decided to stay down and feign sleep while actually listening to their conversation. Not only was the position more discreet, but it would also allow him to peek over Havoc’s ears at the people speaking. He already had a feeling he knew who they were, but he wouldn't waste this opportunity to get truthful unfiltered information.  

Straight ahead Aaron sat his legs criss crossed, opposite a very familiar Asian kid, and sitting diagonally from them both sat Tamara. Who, at the moment, was whispering so fiercely Call was sure she probably didn't even have a need to whisper. It pretty much destroyed the point of whispering but whatever. After his curiosity was mildly satiated, Call immediately shrunk back behind Havoc, his mind attempting- and failing- to process the onslaught of thoughts.

 When did they recruit the Asian kid at the front gates?! Call vaguely remembered Tamara mentioning some Jonathan-or had it been Jalon?- well, mention some kid. Call just hadn't expected him to be the one currently sitting in their little circle. Call didn't know why he was so shocked at the obvious fact. Jonathan was a part of their ‘group’, and had probably already told both Tamara and Aaron that he was a  bloodthirsty vampire. Not that he was, or there was any chance of him being one, but being in Dracula’s castle had made Call self-conscious about the most menial of things.

 Glancing down at his arms, Call aimed to see if the burn he received from Jonathan had healed any, but he found himself trying to suppress a violent shudder instead. Somehow, his shredded palms had completely healed overnight. The pulverised mass of flesh was fully restored, leaving naught but smooth unscarred skin. Call quelled his fear and pulled down the sleeve of his black turtleneck, only to see the flesh in the same horrid state it had been in inside the Demon Guesthouse. The burn was fresh and un-blistered, almost as if it had been inflicted less than a day ago. Yet, his palms were fully healed?! 

Nothing made sense, nothing at all.

 Before Call could ruminate about his body’s freakish tendencies, a sharp whisper pierced the air.

    “That is no ordinary kid sitting over there! That is a killer vampire!” Jonathan whisper-shouted. 

    “If I knew all this stuff before our initial meeting, I wouldn't have been so idle during our first meeting. Defeating Rahab, keeping a warg as a pet, and running from Vampire Killer , I don't think it could get any more obvious,” Tamara concluded. Call suddenly felt glad her face was hidden from him, he didn't want to imagine the expression written on it. 

    “He also might have mentioned taking a bath somewhere in here... And also somehow healed me, but I’m sure not how he did it. It might have been with potions,” Aaron added. 

Call shrunk backwards. He didn't know what or how, but something about what Aaron had said made him feel small. Small and vulnerable. He hadn't expected him to say that. Call had thought maybe they had connected, maybe Aaron would have defended him. But really what had he been thinking? Aaron had just been being nice and keeping face. He was with his real friends now. In a few moments they were probably gonna wipe the floor with Call all because he was some vampire, or something. But honestly, even Call didn't know what he was, or why he was here. He only knew he could rely on his dad. Who was most certainly not dead and was only locked up somewhere in the castle like Havoc had been. 

For some reason the thought didn't do anything to dull the ache in his heart. 

Call once again listened absent-mindedly as the trio continued to converse. They seemed to have moved onto some other conversation.

    “He probably ditched Tamara cause’ she wasn't a Belmont and went for the big bucks. That’s why he sneakily sidled up to you and treated you so nicely Aaron. Are you sure you're not cursed or possessed?” Jonathan asked in a rather snide manner. 

Call heard Tamara sigh tiredly.

    “Jasper, could you please shut up? Aaron is not possessed, if he was we would be able to tell. As for Call, well considering how Vampire Killer burns the skin of vampires and doesn't hurt humans means we can just check his arm. For Aaron’s sake anyway, I’m already pretty convinced of what he is,” Tamara stated bluntly. 

“Thanks Tamara,” Aaron said.

Call stopped listening to their discussion and sat up abruptly. He couldn't contain it any longer. He wasn't a vampire, no matter the facts, no matter anything. He was Alistair’s son, who just happened to be a human, and nothing could change that fact. Call took in a large breath, in preparation, before turning to stand. His leg ached in protest.

    “I’m not a vampire,” he declared. 

Three sets of eyes landed on him. Glancing at each pair, only made him a bit more nervous, but overall more determined to prove the genuinity of his statement. Tamara seemed a little surprised, though mostly calculating, like she dared Call to continue talking. Aaron seemed truly shocked. And Jasper(That was his name, not Jonathan, Call had been close okay?) seemed quite ready to say something offensive. In which Call promptly shut him up before he even got the chance.

    “I’m not a vampire, and I can prove it.”

The silence that followed Call’s bold statement was deafening. Tension permeated the air, stiffening the already rigid atmosphere even further. Call almost found himself laughing in his own nervousness, but quickly sobered at Tamara’s statement.

    “Make any sudden movements and I will not hesitate to strike.”

Call muttered a “right” underneath his breath, stealing a discreet glance at Aaron. His lips were pursed and his eyes were downcast, but he spoke no words. That was fine, Call had known since the beginning that he was fighting this battle solo; he would have it no other way. 

    “You guys wanna check my arm right? And make sure they’re not burned?”

Call proceeded to fold his long sleeve down in a tantalizingly slow way, ensuring he could lengthen at least the last few seconds he had to think...After all, as soon as he finished showing off his right uninjured arm, they were sure to ask to view his left ‘very  obviously injured’ arm. He was still trying to think up a way he could avoid that.

    “See? Completely normal,” Call said as reassuring as he could manage at the moment. 

Call’s heart felt like it was pounding so fast that it was about to beat straight out of his chest. Maybe he could distract them with Havoc or- Jasper sauntered forward confidently grabbing a hold of Call’s left arm. The action was so unexpected, Call barely had a moment to react or even to hide his wince. Jasper was thin but he had a strong grip.

    “No more time for dramatics this time, blood sucker! Let’s see the proof,” Jasper reached out his other hand, intending to pull down Call’s other sleeve and expose him to the others. Call would have none of it though. Despite the list of colourful language that ran through his mind, his rage-fueled mind pieced together a somewhat rational sentence. 

    “Get your grabby-ass hands off me! If I’m gonna go down, then-” Call paused mid-sentence as he caught movement in his peripheral. It was on the wall, just the slightest flicker of a shadow. Call was instantly reminded of Havoc’s shadow before, but this time it couldn't have been his silly puppy.  After all, Havoc was still sitting near his legs. Outside his thoughts, Call could hear Jasper mocking him and his unfinished sentence; however, in favour of his epiphany, he didn't argue back. There was someone-or something there. 

Tamara seemed to realize the same thing.

    “Watch out!” she shouted, jumping backwards. 

At her warning, Aaron followed suit, flipping backwards with enough grace to make a professional gymnast jealous. Call was in a tougher position. Not only was he still connected to Jasper, but, in the millisecond Call had spared to look, the other boy didn't seem to have foreseen this attack at all. That meant if he didn't do something, they were both dead. 

Grabbing a hold of Jasper, Call lunged backward with as much force as his legs could muster. His bad leg burned with a fiery pain and Call had to push the stars from his vision before he could even attempt to understand what had just happened. 

As Call once again reclaimed his awareness, the first thing he noticed was the fact that Jasper’s hair was in his mouth. Gross. The Asian boy was practically draped on him like a blanket and wait- why did this situation seem so familiar?

    “Hey get off me!” Call yelled, shoving Jasper. 

Jasper flinched, bringing himself to a sitting position. The two shared a brief look of distaste before Jasper relented and stood, dusting himself off. 

“Are you guys ok?!” Aaron called from the opposite side of the room. Call hadn't realized it, but a thick cloud of dust had risen. The air was so congested with debris, Call couldn't even see Aaron or Tamara. All he could see was Jasper and that was far from a pleasant view. 

“The vampire grabbed me and tried to bite me but I fought him off! Don't worry about me guys!” Jasper called back and it took the majority of Call’s willpower to not to hit him in the back of his head. 

“Like I did that! If I was gonna drink someone’s blood it sure as hell wouldn't be your blood,” Call said, his arms crossed. On second thought, that probably wasn't the smartest thing to say when you were in the middle of being accused of being a vampire, but considering how his grave was already dug, he barely had anything to lose. “Anyway what just happened?”

As Call asked his question, the dust began to clear and a high pitched cackling resonated from the room. The fifth person. Images of demon pixies and broken clown toys filled Call’s mind. What new horror had Dracula’s castle brought to them?

When the dust fully cleared Call finally caught a glance of the mysterious fifth person. It was a boy who appeared no older than any of them. He wore over-the-top Gothic clothes and sat, his legs crossed, on the most terrifying horse Call had ever seen. The beast’s skin, although coloured black, glowed flaming red, just as its eyes did. However chunks of skin and tissue were missing all over it's body, the most noticeable parts being the entirety of its face and rear. This left the monster looking like some sort of zombie-horse with pulsating red eyes of death.

    “I’m guessing this guy isn't part of your girl scout group, huh?” Call blurted unintentionally. Aaron chuckled at him and Jasper muttered something smart under his breath. Call wasn't really sure how to take either of those reactions.

Tamara glowered at him.

“This is Drew Wallace, Dracula’s only heir... and our current target.”

Chapter Text

Call stared ahead, shocked silent. This scrawny looking kid was Dracula’s heir?! He had expected a lot of things: a demon, a ghost, a burly looking guy with fangs, anything to be honest. Anything but a kid their age. 

    “You guys have to kill this- this-” Call spluttered for lack of better words. He hadn't expected Tamara and Aaron’s man hunt to turn out to be more of a ‘kid’ hunt. 

    “This kid ? Yeah, we do,” Aaron replied, his face ashen. He looked older, his voice was stern; he seemed to be completely different from the boy that had so lovingly patted Havoc’s head. Call barely recognized him. 

    “We’re just following our duty, and doing our part in saving the world,” Tamara added a second later. Call might have believed her ironclad resolve in the matter if she hadn't turned her face from him. In the short time he had spent with her, he could tell she was a very prideful person. She never hesitated and never hid, facing each thing head-on. But here Tamara was, turning her face in guilt. The sight seemed wrong. 

If the quick math in Call’s head was right though, they should be going after Ecclesia instead of Drew. Why not turn against the people that forced them into doing horrible things? They were the ones forcing them to do all of this, weren't they?

    “Why don't you guys just quit? Why do you have to listen to Ecclesia all the time?” Call asked, frustrated. He knew the answer wasn't anywhere near as simple as just quitting, but he couldn't fathom what compelled them to work for such an organization. Every time it was brought up, Aaron got sad or distant. Obviously there was some disconnect somewhere!

It was Jasper’s turn to speak. He grabbed the front of Call’s shirt aggressively, pulling him to his height, “You think it's that easy bloodsucker?!” he asked, voicing Call’s thoughts. “You don't understand anything.”

Call jerked away roughly, the weight of his words falling heavily on his shoulders. Usually he would have felt angry, maybe even indignant, but Jasper was right. He was so right it felt like a punch to the gut. Hadn't Call just recently reiterated his pledge of being solo? Why was he interfering anyway? It wasn't like this was any of his business. Now he had gone and embarrassed himself. After all, it wasn't like there was much he could do to alleviate the problem.  He was just a single person. He himself was just another kid. 

    “I don't need your pity!” an unknown voice called out. And it took Call a second to realize it was Drew who had spoken. His voice was still high, as if his vocal chords hadn't yet matured and Call decided it was better that he wasn't a demonic pixie. With all that was occurring, he might not have been able to wrap his head around it if that had been the case. “I’ll beat all of you easily, and then you’ll all be begging for MY pity!”

Call tried (with difficulty) to keep his face completely straight. Drew even talked like a dumb kid. Not to say that Call spoke any more eloquently, but that was besides the point. This kid sure had a lot of guts threatening Aaron and Tamara. 

    “Why don’t you just give up?” Call asked, turning to Drew. Even after making a firm decision in his head, his mouth always got the better of him. “You’re obviously outnumbered, and that's not even counting Jasper since I don't know if he's capable of doing anything. He looks about as useless as they come. Anyway, you could save a lot of trouble and-”

Tamara, who had apparently crossed the distance while Call had been busy arguing with everyone, grabbed his shoulder, efficiently spinning him around. All the while, Drew actually seemed to be contemplating the other’s ideas. Jasper didn't get a word in edgewise, and Call was certainly not complaining about such an outcome.

    “It’s way too late for that Call,” she whispered harshly. Her hand gripped his shoulder almost painfully, and it didn't take much concentration to work out why. Tamara was just as torn as Aaron was, she just pretended better. “Drew has already absorbed some dark magic. Why else do you think he is able to control that Night Mare? If we let him live, he’ll gain control of  everything within the castle and bring darkness upon humanity! Our only option is to… is to kill him.”

Call stared at her wide-eyed, he hadn't expected her to say that so bluntly. 

With the casual- albeit painful- way Tamara had grabbed his shoulder, Call also couldn't help but think she had completely forgotten about the earlier accusations of him being a vampire. Either that or, Drew was a big enough threat that even someone calm and calculated like herself, was willing to rely on a wildcard like Call. The first option definitely seemed to be leaning more in his favour.

As if Call's very thoughts summoned him to action, Drew released a low growl in the back of his throat. His large blue eyes were now squinted into slivers of pure animosity, and the anger formed creases on his brow. His entire expression clashed jarringly with the childish soft features of his face. Call almost thought he looked comically angry.   

"You-you all are so gonna regret everything that you’ve said! I’m never gonna stop! And soon enough, after I’m Dracula, you guys will be bowing before me too! You’ll wish you listened to my dad when he first tried to recruit you!” Drew shouted. While his eyebrows were still furrowed, the grimace had slipped off his face, leaving nothing more than a pout. He resembled a child throwing a tantrum over a broken toy. “You all better be ready!!!”

After his bold declaration, the room was once again claimed by silence and Call couldn't tell if Drew was finished talking or not. It remained for a moment, until Havoc found something interesting to sniff at on the sole of Call’s sneakers. The wolf’s intent sniffing echoed in the stone room, causing the attention to fall on Call once again; he pretended not to notice. 

Really Havoc now of all times?! Call exclaimed in his thoughts. The pup let out a low whine and began to pull on the leg of Call’s jeans. Call stiffly tried to ignore him. 

    “Did you come all the way over here, just to tell us that ?” Jasper asked incredulously. Having finally broken the awkward silence that had claimed them, the four returned their focus to Drew, who now seemed to be nervously contemplating his options. 

    “No… Of course not- I-I also brought a gift,” Drew’s face twisted into a smirk as he spoke, and he raised his hand dramatically, snapping his fingers. After nothing happened for a second Call thought for a moment that Drew had simply snapped for dramatic effect, or maybe to show off his overly-frilly Gothic sleeves; however, realization  quickly dawned on him as a thick fog began filling the room. 

    “Crap! Guys turn back and run!! Run!!!” Tamara cried out, turning tail within a second's notice.  

Havoc was now pulling on Call’s jeans hard enough for the boy to be forcefully pulled forward. It wasn't the dog’s best idea though, and Call quickly found he was tripping over himself in an effort to go forward. Was it the gas that Tamara was worried about? There was always the possibility that it could be poisoned like the Alura Une’s pollen. 

Call quickly covered his mouth and nose with his hand in a makeshift way to filter through the supposedly poisoned gas, and then he heard it. Or maybe he felt it, but the room seemed to begin to shake. The thundering sound only grew closer, and Call felt a pang of fear shoot through his mind. The gas was definitely the least of his problems right now.  Havoc whimpered again. 

    “Go boy, find Aaron and stay with him, okay?” Call told the wolf. Havoc let out a forlorn howl and paced around Call agitatedly. “I said GO!” Call shouted. The dog whimpered one last time, and dashed into the fog. 

Call righted himself as quickly as he could. Although it wasn't the quickest process, he was on his feet in due time, and while the rumbling sounded much closer, nothing had actually shown up yet. The odds seemed to be in his favour. Call began to limp forward, checking behind his back occasionally to see if anything appeared. After only a few steps forward, Call whipped his head forward after another tentative check of his rear, and slammed his nose into something standing before him. It was too soft to be the wall, but too hard to not have bruised his nose. Had the enemy circled ahead?

    “OW! What the hell!?”

Nope never mind it was just Jasper. 

“What’re you doing just standing there?!?” Call cried. “Why aren't you running?!”

Jasper seemed paler in an unhealthy sort of way. The blood seemed to have drained from his face… Almost as if he was nervous or guilty about something. Call narrowed his eyes.

    “I…”

Jasper's eyes flicked from Call’s face, to some area behind him and Call felt an unholy breath on his neck. It was perhaps the worst horror-movie stereotype that could come to mind, but in experiencing it firsthand in reality, he couldn't help but feel sheer dread consume him.

    “Jasper-” Call said, speaking frantically. His voice was uneven, but he spit the words as quickly as he could so he could get his point across with the utmost haste, “I know you don't like me but, there seems to be a lot of whatever is behind me, and if we work together-”

“Oh, Jasper? You’re still here? Well good then, lets talk. I have some good news.”

Call felt his entire body shiver. It was Drew who had just spoken. There was no mistake about it. Drew had called out to Jasper. 

    “Jasper?--”

The Asian boy stared at Call wide-eyed, his lips trembled. 

    “Burn in Hell vampire…” he whispered.  

Jasper shoved Call backwards.

Chapter Text

Call fell backwards with a gasp. He had meant to pull Jasper’s shirt and take him down as well, but his fingers fell just short of the other boy’s lapel. He fell unceremoniously, his limbs sprawled messily and his gaze directed upward. He had also intended to fix Jasper with the nastiest gaze he could muster because he was definitely not going to burn in hell, in fact the only person on their way to hell was Jasper because Call was going to make his life a living hell. But, being surrounded by monsters on all sides really helped sober him.

An entire herd of Drew”s demonic horses surrounded Call, which explained the previous rumbling, but offered no explanation on how Call was actually supposed to get out of the situation. He was completely encircled by the beasts other than the opening where Jasper stood, and Call had just learned, quite ruthlessly really, how safe that route was. He would have to try his luck with the monsters. 

The Night Mares, as Tamara had called them, were only getting closer, giving Call an unnecessarily close look at their hideous physique. Each horse was missing different parts of its face and were slowly getting closer and closer. They were so close Call was able to see their blunt human-like teeth dripping with red-tinted saliva. It was both disgusting and horrifying. He slightly felt like retching. Pulling his gun from his pants, Call was ready to point it straight towards the bastard that had gotten him in this awful situation in the first place. 

    “Drew, if you don’t make these monsters back away, I swear I’ll shoot Jasper in the fuc-” Call stopped mid-sentence as a hoof kicked him on the back. He didn't put up too much resistance and fell flat onto his face. 

Call winced as his nose throbbed painfully afterwards and quickly tried to recover, yet the Night Mare didn't relent and quickly took its place standing on his back. Call felt as if the burden of ten worlds was on his back, and this was only the monster’s front two legs. Unconsciously, he found himself spitting blood. 

“These guys aren’t  monsters, they’re my precious ponies,” Drew corrected, jumping off the back of the Night Mare and straight onto Call’s outstretched arm. A sickening snap resounded through the room as Drew grinded his heeled boots into Call’s wrist; it made his hand curl upward in an odd direction and he couldn't help but release his gun. “Not making so many comments now huh? Who even are you anyway?” Drew asked hopping off his arm innocently and kicking away the discarded firearm. 

The only thing in Call’s vision was white. He had never broken his wrist before, -much less getting his bone freaking crushed to pieces by some gothic diva wannabe- but that was probably the least concerning thing that happened in the past five minutes. He needed to get up. Jasper was a traitor and… and… Call’s mind felt sluggish. He couldn't think clearly or even focus on Drew’s wavering figure up ahead. It was like he was drugged, except it was the pain that numbed his mind and senses. It was a deep sort of ache that pulsed at his wrist...almost like... Call’s mind grasped for the words but he couldn't reach them. His mind was like a flickering bulb that tried desperately to stay alight, but alas with his fleeting thoughts so did his mind flicker off. Call’s eyes fell shut. 

******

When Call opened his eyes again, he felt an immense relief wash over him, but it was quickly replaced by a deep sense of foreboding. The Night Mare’s that had once surrounded him, including the one that had stood atop his back, were all gone now. They had seemingly moved ahead to surround some other unfortunate person. Call knew better than that, obviously they were surrounding Jasper and Drew. Which also meant that Call hadn't lost consciousness for overly long; he must have passed out for a second due to momentary shock or something. This also meant a treasure trove of information waited for him just a few steps ahead. And that fool Drew had left his gun just sitting a ways away. The idea didn't make his wrist feel any better, but getting back at Jasper sounded pretty satisfying. After reclaiming his gun, Call army crawled forward, careful not to get noticed by the Night Mares. It wasn't the most difficult thing he had done, and soon enough he was within earshot of the two other boys. 

    “- Anyway, like I was saying your dad is still alive for now, but you still haven't poisoned Tamara yet,” Drew said simply. Call wondered if the brat had ever even had any friends before. The thought carried more empathy than Call intended. “I’ll give you one more day, but that's it. Or else your dad will be fed to my ponies. Hehe, he's such a freaking sissy anyway. I bet he would willingly walk to his death if it meant getting away from you and your mom.”

“Shut the hell up Drew!” Jasper seethed. Call wasn't able to see either of their faces but he could imagine Jasper’s was black with anger. Everything made sense now though, Call wasn't sure if he was better off understanding. 

Jasper was being blackmailed by Drew because apparently Drew somehow knew Jasper’s dad and was in a position to kill him. Call wasn't very sure about the details, but he knew that the previous empathy he had felt for Drew had evaporated completely. He definitely didn't like Jasper even a little bit, because, well the guy had literally pushed him to his death. But god did this brat need a solid punch in his tiny little face. 

    “Hey arseholes I’m still here,” Call announced haughtily, rising to his feet. 

Without a second thought, he began firing his gun randomly into the mass of Night Mares that stood in front of him, in a seemingly uncaring way. As if he had forgotten the fact that Jasper and Drew could easily be shot. Call heard a few shouts, the pang of some metal, and the thud of corpses as some of the ‘ponies’ fell. They were terrifying but evidently not too hard to kill. 

And this time he saw it: the glittering swirl of red as a new soul was bestowed upon him. 

Call was cheeky enough to smirk as he walked down the aisle of corpses he had just created. He headed straight towards the centre where both boys waited. 

    “Didn't learn your lesson the first time huh-” Drew started, but Call didn't waste a second swinging his fist straight into the younger boy’s jaw. It was Drew’s turn to spit blood. Neither Jasper nor the Night Mares made any movement. “H-How dare you- you nobody! I will kill Jasper’s dad now, I swear-”

Call sat down on top on the fallen boy’s waist and pulled him upwards so he couldn't escape his piercing silver gaze. 

“You douche! You really think anyone believes you anymore?! You just get a little taste of authority and look how you're dragging Jasper around?! I bet you don't even have the means or guts to kill his dad. You're stuck in here just like us with no access to the outside world. You really are just a freaking brat, to think I even felt bad for you!” 

Drew’s bottom lip quivered as Call stared down on him intensely. “I- you guys are the stupid ones! Have you forgotten you're surrounded by my ponies?! Even if I can’t kill your stupid dad, I can kill you two!” 

Call very seriously threw his head back and cackled. Maybe he was being a little overly dramatic, but he had been waiting for Drew to say this line the entire time. Call raised his brow arrogantly, his eyes flashing red. Only Drew saw them. 

In the background, Call was vaguely able to hear Jasper readying his weapon in preparation, but nothing happened. The remaining Night Mares all continued idling by. 

    “Wha-what did you do to them?” Drew asked at a complete loss.

    “Nothing,” Call said, getting up and walking a small distance away.

Attack him , Call thought a second later.

 It only took a millisecond for the beasts to charge over, their hooves beating with the sound of Call’s own heart. What was he doing? 

Before Call could pursue the thoughts any further, Drew let out an ear-curdling wail. Jasper, who had efficiently moved out of the path of the Night Mares, winced at the sound, looking paler than ever. “WHAT have you done to them?! What have you done to my ponies?!?!” Drew’s eyes leaked tears. “YOU WILL PAY! You will pay you stupid rogue vampire!” 

Within a blast of smoke and shadow, Drew disappeared, just seconds away from being plundered by the massive onslaught of monsters. Call would be lying if he didn't say he felt relieved to see the young boy escape; it hadn't been his intention to actually hurt the other. 

Call sighed and finally allowed his shoulders to sag, his silver eyes flashing crimson one last time. The group of Night Mares immediately dispersed into dust. They resembled ashes blowing on an unseen wind...Call briefly wondered what they had meant to Drew, but he forced his mind to focus. There was one last loose end he needed to tie. 

Call spun on his heel, looking about for Jasper. The Asian boy stood but a few feet away from him, his arm fully outstretched; he was gripping a very extravagant looking spear and pointing it straight towards Call’s throat. 

“If you say a word to Aaron or Tamara I swear I won’t hesitate to kill you vampire.”

“A ‘thank you’ would be nice, but I’ll agree to the same terms on the topic of my vampirism… I swear I won’t say anything if you won’t say anything about my ‘condition’,” Call said. That's right, Call had decided to agree with the possibility of himself being a vampire, since everyone seemed so sure of it. But he was still definitely a human...Most likely.

Jasper eyed him warily for a moment, but his uptight posture and mannerisms deflated rather quickly. He seemed tired. 

    “Deal bloodsucker, but even after all this Tamara will try to check your arm. Your secret will be out even if I don't say anything.”

Call scowled deeply. “Then help me protect it, and I’ll help protect yours too.”

The fact that Call had to depend on someone else was already a headache. But the fact that he had to depend on Jasper the Jerk was a whole ‘nother level of horrible. Had Dracula- or no that old creep- personally had it out for the Hunt family from the start? Was this all some horrible plot? Call sighed heavily, there wasn't much use in thinking about it now.

    “Well genius, what should I do to cover up my arm?”

Chapter Text

Jasper had looked sickly and pale before, but when Call had mentioned the word “genius”, his whole face seemed to light up. 

    “So you finally realized it vampire?” the Asian boy said, leering. 

Call stood quietly for a moment, the other boy’s words completely lost on him. What exactly had been realized? Call was ready to ask, but Jasper seemed overly excited to explain it himself. 

    “I mean, I know I’m amazing, and it was just a matter of time before you actually said it out loud, but what am I saying? Of course I’ll offer some of my godly advice… Since you obviously need it so badly,” Jasper had now crossed his arms smugly against his chest. Almost like he was waiting for Call to fall on his knees and began worshipping him. The idea in itself, was actually so ludicrous it almost made Call laugh. Almost.

    “Are you not in the least bit worried that I might kill you? Or that Drew might come back? Or that maybe, we might not be able to find Tamara and Aaron again? Or the fact that you could be hiding a potentially dangerous secret from your own ‘friends’?” Call released a long-suffering sigh, “Are you not shocked about anything that just happened?”

Jasper’s grin only widened as Call listed off his questions. It was like the jerk had been waiting for him to ask them. And that wasn't the only thing that didn't sit well with Call. By asking those very questions to the other boy, he had basically exposed his own wavering feelings to Jasper of all people. How embarrassing!

    “Obviously, Ecclesia taught me how to deal with Drew and his… ideas. Before you came everything was under control, and now that he's gone, everything is still under control. I even know how to deal with your random appearance bloodsucker,” Jasper said confidently. He even had begun to dust the invisible dust off his own flamboyant victorian outfit, and walk forward. Call followed behind him numbly. 

    “You did not have everything under control! You looked so scared!” 

    “I looked like that to convince Drew that I was scared and that he was in control. And if it convinced you, I’m pretty sure it tricked him too.” 

    “But what about when you threatened me not to tell Tamara and Aaron? What was that about then?!” Call argued.

Jasper stopped walking after this question. He eyed Call out of the corner of his eye, a thoughtful expression painted on his face. It didn't last long enough for Call to understand the meaning behind it and he quickly spoke up afterwards.

    “It was obviously to keep Drew off the scent. Just because he makes a big dramatic exit doesn't mean he has really stopped listening,” Jasper said exasperatedly, “And now that I have to explain all of my complex and well-thought out plans to you, it's completely destroying my efforts to trick Drew in the first place. So unless you want me to ask you a million questions about you and your vampirism, I would shut up.”

Call snapped his mouth shut, killing the retort on the tip of his tongue. Jasper was rude. He was rude and snarky and everything that Call didn't like. He was right too, and Call didn't like that factor any more than the rest. 

The two boys walked in silence for a while. Jasper had long legs and took his steps with long strides, leaving Call behind in the dust. Not only was he shorter than Jasper, but he felt ten times as exhausted considering his display of power back with Drew that and his numerous injuries plus his throbbing leg. Call really wanted nothing more than to collapse on a rock somewhere and just sleep, but he wasn't about to tell all of that to Jasper. He could outdo him in any field. 

Over a particularly broken piece of stairway, Call found himself struggling immensely. Placing his good leg on the stone far below him left his bad leg to support the other half of his weight on the upper step, which wasn't currently possible. Sitting down allowed him to place both legs below him, but the stone underneath his bottom crumbled into dust.

Of course the stupid stair decided to break when I sit on it, Call thought dryly. It had held his weight perfectly fine before! It had even held Jasper's weight, and he had to weigh ten times Call's weight.

Call tumbled just as easily as the stone did, and luckily for him, the fall wasn't far. During his descent, he reached out his arms to break his fall, forgetting about his broken wrist. Call watched in horror as his wrist twisted yet another direction as it failed to support the weight being thrusted upon it; the stinging sensation rippling up his arm, causing him to wince painfully.

 Call pushed himself up with his uninjured hand, blinking away the tears that had come unbridled to his eyes. He breathed heavily as he attempted to regain his bearings. The pain he had felt was excruciating, and his wrist was beginning to look more and more like a swollen plum. Call wondered if his broken wrist had been a part of Jasper’s ‘plan’ too.

   “God, why are you panting like a dog? We haven't even walked that far yet,” Jasper said cockily. Apparently he had walked up to watch Call’s pathetic display.

It made his blood boil.

   “Why the heck were you running like a freaking cheetah? Do we really need to walk that fast to reach wherever the hell we are going?!” Call asked, his voice trembling.

   “Well you were the one making googly eyes at Aaron and Tamara when you said you weren't a vampire. I just thought you wanted to be with them as soon as possible, so I was just being nice and escorting you there!”

   “What do you even know about being nice?! You like to act like you know everything, but you couldn't even tell me whatever ‘godly’ advice you had earlier, ” Call quipped back. He had managed to stand on both feet now and boy was he ready to pick a fight. “I bet it's because you just made it up like the rest of that ‘under control’ crap you spewed earlier!” 

Jasper’s face scrunched up in anger as Call easily dismissed his ‘genius’.  It might have been satisfying to watch if Call himself wasn't already so indignant. The Asian boy quickly crossed the distance between them, and looked down on the shorter boy in a very intense manner.

    “I do too have a solution for your idiot problem! You're just so annoying I couldn't get it out in time.” Jasper paused for a bit, for what Call assumed to be dramatic effect, but a very mean glare got him talking again quickly, “The solution is obviously to drink some blood. Human blood is the only way a vampire can heal from a wound inflicted by Vampire Killer… That's the whip by the way,” Jasper informed dryly. Once he finished, he looked at Call expectantly.

Whatever Jasper had wanted, Call was not currently in the mindframe to give. Instead, he very audibly gagged, “You want me to drink your blood? That was your amazing solution?!” When Jasper said nothing, Call realized he had been wholly serious about the idea. “You could have blood diseases,” Call muttered more to himself than the other. 

    “Don't you know this much bloodsucker? You’ve got to have least drank blood before… You are a vampire.” Jasper said with certainty. When Call glanced around nervously, it didn't take Jasper very long to understand the meaning behind his silence. “You’ve never drank blood before?”

Call backed away from the other boy, trying to get his stomach under control. The idea of drinking blood was revolting. The fact it would have to be Jasper’s blood didn't really help the situation either. Not to even mention the implications that came with actually drinking blood. He would be confirming the fact that he was a vampire. Him, Alistair’s son, Callum Hunt, he was a vampire. How did that even make any sense? Call felt his arm pulse in trepidation. There had to be some other way. Another way to get the burn to go away. Call surely didn't have any clue for any alternate solutions, but the same couldn't be said of Jasper. 

     "There's got to be another way!" Call practically pleaded. 

Jasper eyed Call oddly. "How have you never drank human blood before? How can you even call yourself a vampire?"

      "I'm not a vampire! I'm just- I- I only became like this when I first entered this stupid castle!" 

      "But that still doesn't make any sense, the castle couldn't just turn you into a vampire, unless there was a vampire you met before entering the castle. Then he could have turned you. "

Call paled. There had been one person he and his father had encountered before entering the castle. It had been that old freaky guy with a silver mask, who Call later had figured out to be a really creepy old dude. But at the time of his first arrival, Call had passed out. He didn't know what happened to his dad or himself. For all he knew, his dad could have been changed into a vampire too. The idea was strangely comforting. 

       "Uh, I don't know what just happened, but we are on a tight schedule. You can either take my solution or drop it, but Aaron and Tamara are gonna be here any minute and I'm gonna agree with whatever she says no matter what," Jasper said. Call didn't fail to notice the dagger already clasped in his hands. He really was planning to help him. 

In a brief moment of clarity, Call looked up towards the other boy, "If all of that stuff you said is true, then that means you have no reason to protect me. You have no reason to waste your blood on me." 

Jasper offered a rueful grin as he sliced his wrist. "You keep your mouth shut bloodsucker, and I'll keep mine shut too."

Call didn't really understand the other's words, but apparently they were doing this. A single drop of blood dripped to the floor wastefully, before Call placed his lips on Jasper's wrist and lapped at the oncoming flow of blood. It was probably the most embarrassing and awkward situation he had ever been in, yet Call could not deny the addictive warmth that pooled at the bottom of his stomach. He had expected the taste to be bitter, but instead it was warm… Warm and sweet.

Jasper pulled his arm back a few seconds later, his ears burning red. Call didn't see them. 

      "God, you didn't have to make that face," Jasper murmured. 

       "Wha...t?" Call asked, though he didn't really comprehend the question being asked. His mind, which had felt so foggy with so much exhaustion and pain, seemed to be clear as daylight. Strength seemed to have seeped into his very bones, he felt as if he could take on a million Rahabs. 

Call easily jumped from the pile of rubble to the solid stone floor, and grinned boyishly when nothing happened. No throbbing from his bad leg at all. Not to mention from any of the other injuries he had. His brutally broken wrist seemed to have righted itself, and most importantly of all the burn from Vampire Killer was completely gone. All that remained was smooth unblemished skin.

       "Holy crap, I'm invincible," Call muttered to himself. 

        "No you're not," Jasper said rather quickly. His bleeding wrist had already been bandaged and he was now standing beside the other boy, his face forward.

Call glanced at the figure beside him, the effects of his euphoria fading. What had he just done? And why did it feel like he had just sold his soul to the devil? 

Chapter Text

Alistair’s body sagged against the damp stone that caved in around him. Despite its rigid edges and uneven surface, it was the only reprieve he could afford at the moment. He had barely escaped the iron prison Joseph had forced him into and what had come next seemed no better. He had escaped into the caves that spread out beneath the castle, but instead of the freedom he had so desperately hoped for, he had trapped himself in another prison… Only this one was a stone labyrinth. 

He hadn't been any more lucky either when he ran into a foul she-beast that went by the name Scylla. The monster seemed to be absolutely livid when she first saw him, and in her anger she thrashed about sending stalactites falling like arrows from the sky. Alistair wasn’t even given a chance to catch his breath. From the waist up the Scylla was a beautiful naiad with locks the colour of gold, in contrast, however,  her lower body housed two savage beasts: Wolf heads with razor sharp teeth and eels for legs. At first glance she seemed to be a true monstrosity, but the tale of how she came to be was truly pitiable. Alistair knew of it, but didn't care for her origins. He only cared for one thing. The one thing he had left in this world… his son. He could still see his grey eyes brimming with tears, his voice so weak. How many days had it been since he had last seen him? The concept of time as a whole seemed to be lost on him, but it couldn’t have been that long. 

Alistair scoured  his own mind in search of memories of his last encounter with his son. Call had called out to him and then it had happened. Dark magic had encompassed the boy’s small frame pouring into the familiar soul it had sought after for all of those years. Alistair didn't know how or what unholy source the magic had been kept in the entire time, but the years he had protected and kept Call, the years he had spent isolated from the Order of Ecclesia, all of the time he spent as a coward in the shadows… All of that had ended up for naught. 

The Order had marked him a traitor after he had left them. In order to preserve their “pristine” reputation, they had meant to erase both Call and Alistair from their list of blunders. But he had pushed through the adversity, living under aliases and fake I.D.s.  Sarah had been taken by them too. He didn't even have her body to mourn over, he only had her trusty dagger to remember her by. The dagger, Semiramis, had been her most prized possession and he clung to it the same way Call had clung to his leg as an infant. He had sworn he would protect their son from the fate that awaited him at the Order; keep him away from the people who would kill sooner than they thought. Even so, in the same way he had failed to protect Sarah, he had failed to protect Call. 

Alistair shuddered, age-old regret sinking deeper in his bones. He hadn't meant for any of it to happen and yet...Alistair ran a hand through his overgrown hair and when he brought it back blood stained his fingers. The sight immediately brought him back to reality. He didn't have time to relive his old regrets; he had to keep going. He had only defeated the Scylla due to luck and having sacrificed most of his body for the execution of a  risky countermeasure. He needed to get a weapon and he also needed to find  out about Joseph’s numerous plots. But most importantly he needed to find his son. 

Pushing himself off the wall, Alistair once again studied the rock that surrounded him. It glowed in the same soft phosphorescent light that it had years ago, lighting the area in what might have been called a familiar glow if Alistair didn't truly know what exactly was glowing. The light that the stones emitted was actually not the stone at all, the glow came from thousands of tiny worms that had burrowed in the hard stone. Even these supposedly harmless creatures feasted on human-flesh, and could actually grow up to be man sized and rather poisonous. The man-sized ones were much harder to find, however, as they only grew to that size after years and years of gorging themselves. 

Alistair thought back to the time when he had first found the larger breed. He had been in the caves at that time too, but at that time he hadn't been injured or weaponless. Nevertheless, if he could find one of the larger worms it would at least signify he was close to the exit to the caves. 

Because Dracula’s castle was an evil and unholy thing, over the years it had grown to develop its own will. The rooms and hallways shifted at any given moment, and the entirety of the castle could move to any location it willed; with Dracula being the only one to control it. That was of course before it had been sealed away into the solar eclipse, now only the rooms could move. That wasn't to say the monsters that lived inside changed. Because the bigger worms were so large, they could no longer feed on the scattered bits of flesh they found littered about within the caves. Instead, the larger worms sought out the upper areas of the castle to search for their meals. Meaning, if Alistair could find one of the worms it would assure him he was going in the right direction. Climbing upwards was probably a good direction to start in.

Alistair sighed, he hadn't been adventuring in Dracula’s castle for years, much less even working out in his normal day to day life. He had worked on antiques for the majority of his time anyway, what need was there for physical training? Alistair felt the left side of his mouth twitch. If Rufus had seen what had become of one of his top students he would have been extremely disappointed. Alistair hoped he could thwart Joseph, find Call, and escape the castle all within a relatively short period of time. He really wasn't too keen on having a reunion with any of the people from his past.

Chapter Text

Call and Jasper only stood silently for a moment before both Tamara and Aaron came rushing through the adjacent corridor. When Jasper had mentioned them coming, Call really hadn’t expected them to arrive at that very moment, and felt his jaw drop. If they had come even a second earlier, they might have seen the most regrettable action that had ever happened in his mostly pathetic life.

    “How did you find us so fast??” Call blurted dumbly. Despite the suspicions that naturally came along with such a question, Call genuinely wanted to know how. Tamara saw none of his genuinity, however, and within seconds her fingers were crackling with untamed flame. Call gulped audibly.

    “Did you not want to be found?” she asked. 

Aaron easily stepped in front of her aim, placing his arms outward in an attempt to cover her line of vision completely.  

    “Tamara you can’t just-!” Aaron started, but Jasper quickly cut him off.

    “Hold your horses Tammy, before you accidentally kill a regular human. Call here is nothing but an average kid, I guarantee it.” 

After being blocked by both of them Tamara really did lower her hands, glancing at Jasper with a mixed expression on her face. It seemed to be a mixture of both relief and annoyance... What it really seemed like was that Tamara cared about Jasper more than she let on. 

    “While I am glad to see you’re okay, make sure to never call me that again,” she said. Her voice had been iron but her eyes had been soft. “As for you, Call, I do apologize for the misunderstanding, but I just can’t seem to wrap my head around anything about you at all.”

Call shrugged as she examined his uninjured arms. Jasper’s words alone seemed to have quelled the majority of her suspicions as her movements were brisk. Jasper really had a bigger impact on Tamara than Call had originally thought.  “Yeah, I don’t really get anything either.”

Tamara barely smiled as she sat down, a journal and pen in her hands, “ I guess we’ll figure out together then.” 

Call had absolutely no idea where she had gotten the journal or the pen, but apparently she was completely ready to  document his entire life story or something. The pen was definitely better than the fire. Though the idea all in itself  was more than a little intimidating. It was an intimidating subject to write about without his life partner at least.

    “Hey wait, where is my dog? Where is Havoc?” Call asked nervously.  

Aaron let out a long whistle before plopping down in between Tamara and Call. Call did not notice the way their knees knocked together familiarly. 

    “I never doubted you for a second,” Aaron said, his one-hundred-kilowatt smile back in full force. He hadn't even checked to look at his arms! Call thought for a moment about denying the other boy’s words, but guilt choked him silent. He couldn't form a single response to Aaron. Jasper’s gaze weighed heavily on Call’s back, but still no words came through. Call had no idea how Jasper could lie to his friends so smoothly. 

Maybe it was because he had been lying for so long… An image of Drew flashed through Call’s mind. Yet another reason to question Jasper, but in the least the other boy had been upholding his end of the promise. Now both Aaron and Tamara believed that he was a regular human and that had been his first goal all along hadn't it? For some reason his success didn’t feel as good as he had hoped. 

Call opened his mouth ready to spit something out, but luckily Havoc dashed through the corridor in that instant. How many times had his precious puppy saved him? Call couldn't count the number of times, nor did he really need to. He simply opened his arms wide, ready to embrace the oncoming wolf. Havoc readily jumped into Call’s waiting arms, sending him crashing to the floor all whilst covering his face in numerous kisses. Call laughed softly into Havoc’s fluff, all of his worries washed away. Somehow, no matter what was going on, Havoc always seemed to have that effect on Call. That feeling that everything was going to be okay even when realistically, it probably wasn't. 

    “Okay, are you seriously letting your dog lick all over your face? No wonder your hair always looks like that,” Jasper commented rather rudely. 

Call peeked around Havoc to give the Asian boy the most dry look he could muster. Leave it to Jasper to destroy his blissful reunion. Not to mention the fact that Call was more than ready to comment about how Jasper’s hair usually took on some horrible replication of Goku or some weird wanna-be kpop bowl-cut look, but Tamara surprisingly beat Call to the quip.

    “Oh come on Jasper, admit it, that reunion was very cute,” she stated, closing her eyes in some sort of motion of finality. 

Call had not expected her to say that at all.

    “Wha…t??” both Jasper and Call uttered in unison. After hearing the other, they both turned their heads to fiercely glare at each other. 

    “Am I right Aaron?” Tamara asked, her eyes still closed. Apparently their adverse reactions did nothing to deter her in any way. 

    “Oh- uh, uhm Y-yeah. Definitely,” Aaron stuttered, his cheeks tinged pink. 

    “Oh my god,” Jasper muttered exhaustedly. Call didn't even know why Jasper was making a comment. The one who had been embarrassed was him. 

Call lowered his own burning face into Havoc’s fluff to hide his embarrassment. What was Tamara even getting at? What was wrong with all of these people? He thought Dracula’s castle had been getting to him, but it was obviously messing with their heads more than his. 

    “Wasn't there something important you needed to ask me about?” Call muttered, his voice still muffled by Havoc’s fur. Despite his foolish bravery at random given moments, Call actually wasn’t all that comfortable with having so much attention on him. Much less positive attention, which was something he hadn't gotten from anyone but Alistair- and even then it was rare. 

Tamara’s dark eyes popped open quite quickly at the mention of importance. 

    “Yes there are. And Aaron and Jasper are the biggest distractions ever. Both of you go sit somewhere else so I can focus on Call,” Tamara ordered rather sternly. Call had been especially nervous about being alone with Tamara, considering her prideful and rather intense nature, but after Jasper vouched for him she seemed to be a lot more relaxed. Relaxed and kind, maybe she only acted that intense to protect her friends. 

Both Aaron and Jasper glanced at each other before getting up and moving away from the small area they had settled in. Apparently neither of them really had the guts to refute Tamara’s words. Call didn't blame either of them, as far as he knew, she could probably, very literally, turn him into toast. 

After Aaron rose and left, Havoc also stood up in an attempt to chase after his trailing tail coat. Aaron spun on his heel swiftly, thwarting the wolf’s oncoming attack easily. When the two continued to play around with each other, Call naturally felt his attention drawn towards the movement. Havoc seemed to be so happy and Aaron well he was the one who had brought that emotion to the puppy. Call had to make sure to thank him for that. 

Without a thought, a question easily flashed into Call’s mind and he turned towards Tamara expectantly.

    “Wait so you don’t have a problem with Havoc? Is he the one that led you guys to me and Jasper?”

Tamara finished scribbling a few words before turning her attention back to Call. She hadn't even asked any questions yet, and she was already writing. It wasn't like Call minded particularly, but just how long was his “interview” supposed to take? 

    “Aaron already explained Havoc to me. He is a Tamaskan wolfdog who just happens to look similarly to a warg,” she said, glancing at the pair, “And he did not lead us to you and Jasper that was just forethought on my part. You see, that wasn't the first time Drew had pulled that stampede trick on us. That was how me and Aaron got separated in the first place, so when the three of us got back together again, when you were sleeping, we decided on a rendezvous point just in case it happened again and lo and behold it did,” Tamara explained. When Call nodded his head in understanding she continued to finish. “Basically when neither of you returned, we just headed back from where we came in search of and Jasper was leading you towards us and we met in the middle. Make sense?”

    “Right,” Call said simply. His mind was still stuck at the first part of her overly long explanation. Aaron had made up some wolfdog species and identified Havoc accordingly? Call’s mind did a few more flips before it settled: Aaron had defended Havoc. He had defended Call too. For whatever reason, Aaron really believed in him. He had thought he hadn't, but everything that he had just learned said otherwise. For some reason the thought made his heart rate speed up and Call most definitely blamed it on Jasper’s blood. The stuff was like an energy drink on steroids.

    “All right, if you don't have any more questions I am going to go ahead and start okay?” when Call hummed his affirmation, Tamara started once again, her voice scarily serious, “Make sure to answer all questions honestly and be aware of the fact that Ecclesia will and can use this information in the future to both help and incriminate others all in the name of purging the evil that is Dracula.”

    “Wait-What? Why does this sound like a legal cas-”

    “First question,” Tamara said, ignoring Call’s interruption. “State your name.”

Call frowned, “You already know my name.” When Tamara spoke no further, Call relented, “Call.”

“Full name.”

“Callum Hunt,” he said tediously.

Tamara wrote it down hastily before proceeding to continue. “Second question, how exactly did you manage to get into Dracula’s castle and Third question, who did you meet first?”

    “Havoc ran away on the night of the solar eclipse and I went looking for him and then I collapsed suddenly and when I woke up again, I was at the moat in front of the castle. I met Jasper first there.”

Tamara hmmed, her pen constantly scribbling away. “Fourth question. Where did you obtain your firearm and how did you come into possession of holy bullets?” 

Call gulped. She had asked this question before. He couldn't remember what he had said, or really anything about that time, but he was pretty sure he hadn't answered honestly. Well he was already half drowned in his own pile of hidden secrets and lies, one truth would at least keep him from wholly suffocating… For now.

    “I found it in some bushes, and took it,” Call said. Vague and honest, just as he hoped most of his answers could be.

 It wasn't that Call really wanted to lie to anyone, only he felt too afraid to tell anyone too many truths. Call him a coward, but he had heard so many different things from so many people, he couldn't really tell who was right. He wanted to trust Tamara and Aaron, but she had literally only stopped trying to kill him minutes before. 

Tamara raised one of her perfectly plucked brows, her lips turned downwards. “I thought you told me you got your gun from your twice removed uncle who ran an antique store before his death, who sent you  different porcelain dolls until the week before his death when he sent you this gun fully loaded. And then you said that you had put the gun with one of the dolls but on the night Havoc ran away he had been playing with this doll and you had woken up with fragments of the doll and the gun in your hand.”

Call gawked at her. That was what he had told Tamara all those days ago? No wonder he couldn't remember it. He was a complete idiot. But at the same time Tamara had really believed him, so didn't that make her… Call cut off his line of thinking completely. He was not about to follow through with that line of thinking.

    “I was kinda’ going through a little bit of shock at the time so I was just kind of saying whatever, I ,uh, really found it in the bushes,”  Call said, scratching his cheek and attempting to look as non-suspicious as he could manage. 

Tamara lowered her brow, but she didn't really seem wholly convinced. Even so, she continued to write in her journal before moving to the next question.

“Fifth question: Where did you learn to fight and why?”

“I’ve never been taught to  fight,” Call said rather quickly. All of the fights he got into after school couldn't have been counted as formal training, and he most certainly was not going to mention that to this group of ‘Cool Kids’. Call still had some reputation to upkeep.

“So you were able to take down Rahab, a monster who weighs over one hundred and fifty tons, and can use magic without any training at all? Not to forget the fact that you came out completely unscathed,” she stated. The tone her voice had taken on now seemed rather skeptical and unbelieving. Almost as if she was accusing him rather than questioning him.

“I had Aaron.”

Tamara raised a hand to her temples, seemingly exhausted with the conversation. “Yes, you did,” she muttered. It was the first time her pen had stopped moving and Call knew exactly where her tired state had stemmed from. Obviously from her constant writing. If she had wanted him to talk slower, she should have said something.

    “And I had Call,” Aaron said good-naturedly.

Jasper, Havoc and Aaron seemed to have slowly floated back to the area Tamara and Call had been sitting and seemed pretty content on staying there. Tamara glanced around at them for a moment before sighing and snapping the journal shut. 

    “All right, Call, last question. Are you willing to swear to not speak to anyone outside of this room about the subject of Dracula as it is confidential to Ecclesia and all of its confidants?”

    “Sure.”

She seemed to cringe slightly at his response but said nothing about it otherwise. Tamara straightened her back after putting away her journal and turned to Call sternly. “All right, I am going to brief you about our mission, and once it is completed and we are out of the Castle, I am taking you straight to Master Rufus because you are the biggest anomaly I have ever met,” Tamara declared. 

    “Master Rufus? Who is that? He sounds old and wrinkly.”

Aaron looked at Call, amusement clear in his voice, “He’s our teacher and however old he is, he doesn't have any wrinkles.”

    “Black doesn't crack,” Jasper added helpfully.

Call felt the corner of his lips turn upwards a bit, but felt more nervous about meeting ‘Master Rufus’ more than he let on. He was fine with meeting any other punk kid, even if they were like Jasper, but what if an adult like Master Rufus could tell he was a vampire? Things could go pretty downhill just starting there. 

    “Okay, enough about Master Rufus,” Tamara said, though there was a fond gleam in her eye. “Our main goal is to defeat Drew so we can make sure he doesn't inherit Dracula’s powers at the end of the month. But we can’t kill him until all of the other main monsters are defeated. If we don’t kill them now, then when we go to fight Drew, he will be able to summon them to action which ultimately ends in us getting plummeted. So we kill the big monsters now, and Drew last. Does that make sense?” 

Call nodded his head. It was like Tamara was explaining a video game plot in order to defeat a boss. 

    “There are six monsters we need to kill by the end of next week. Jasper and I have already defeated Gergoth. You and Aaron have already defeated Rahab. That leaves four major monsters left. Beelzebub, Scylla, Legion, and Arthroverta are the last ones we need to kill and we need it done before the lunar eclipse at the end of the month. Any questions?”

    “So, why do we need to kill them by the end of the month?” 

    “Because at the end of the month is when there will be a lunar eclipse. At the exact moment that  happens, Drew will be strong enough to inherit Dracula’s magic and thanks to the excess power of the darkness given from the shadow placed on the moon, he will basically be able to break the entirety of the castle out from its eternal prison within the moon. Upon his return he will rain hell fire upon humanity and destroy everything good and pure in the world,” she said. “Anything else before I continue?”

    “No,” Call murmured.

    “Alright then, to conclude we need to defeat the last four monsters ASAP and they're both in opposite directions so the most efficient plan would be to split up.” When no one else said anything she proceeded to speak, “Aaron and I-”

Call fell backwards with a dramatic intensity he didn't know he possessed. 

    “Please, no Tamara. Please don't pair me with Jasper. I’ve been with him far longer than anyone should be in their entire lives, and that's just a fact.” 

Jasper narrowed his eyes, slinging his arm around Call in an overly-familiar manner. “You just have yet to realize my amazingness va- Hunt,” Jasper corrected smoothly, “Even though you're annoying, I think we could make a good team.”

Call almost felt his eyes pop out of his head. The reason Jasper wanted to pair up with him was most certainly so he could keep an eye on him. They both knew each other's secrets so if they were paired together they could make sure neither was saying anything to anyone else. But Jasper, in Call’s humble opinion, was the real criminal in the situation. He was really trying to betray his friends for whatever reason, which meant he was the only real threat out of the three of them. Who knew if Jasper might try to reconvene with Drew during their trip and Call would have to sit there and watch. But if he went with Tamara or Aaron he would have to pretend to be nice.

Call’s weird sort of logic seemed to make a bit of sense, even if it was only within his own head. He quickly turned his attention back to Tamara, his grey eyes pleading.

    “Please let us pair up together, I don't wanna be with Jasper!”

Tamara looked at him, pity evident on her face, “Listen Call, both of us are support types. Yes my magic is very powerful but I need someone to be on the front lines fighting to have enough time to cast my spells. You shooting your gun from the back is also a support role. Jasper uses a spear and Aaron uses his whip or sword. It would be smartest to either put you with Jasper or Aaron.”

    “I wouldn't mind pairing up with Call. I think we worked really well together when we fought Rahab,” Aaron said. It seemed he had finally chosen to speak up.

Call’s unabashedly hooked his arm with Aaron’s and smiled as sweetly as he could manage. It honestly probably looked more like some mix between a snarl and a scowl, but Call couldn't really care less as long as it meant he wouldn't have to stay within Jasper’s vicinity for the next few days. 

    “Looks like we’re a group then,” Call said enthusiastically. Apparently it had been a bit over enthusiastic as Jasper sent him one of the darkest looks he could muster. It was actually pretty scary.

Chapter Text

Aaron peered at Jasper, a crease in his brow. He adjusted his arm until it sat comfortably against Call’s and stood up straight, his gaze never wavering. 

    “What's with that face Jasper?”

Jasper’s venomous expression evaporated instantly. If Call hadn’t seen it so clearly, he definitely wouldn’t have believed it had been there at all.

    “That face? Oh, haha, you see, Mr. Belmont,” Jasper paused, staring straight into Aaron’s eyes unhesitatingly, “I was just examining Call. Just cause’ he isn’t an evil vampire doesn’t mean he isn’t an evil human.” Aaron had begun frowning as soon as Jasper had called him “Belmont”, but his expression didn't improve at the mention of Call either. Despite Aaron’s negative reaction, the Asian boy didn't seem ready to stop just yet either. “We just didn’t want anything to happen to our only precious little Belmont righ-”

    “That's enough Jasper,” Tamara said, effectively cutting off the other boy.

Call himself didn't really know what happened, but Aaron’s temperament seemed to have taken a turn for the worst. And Jasper seemed a lot more prickly than he had been seconds ago. To Call’s ears, the conversation hadn’t seemed all that offensive, at least not to Aaron. It was like there had been an entire hidden exchange between the two of them that had somehow ticked them both off instantly. Tamara even had to cut in between them! 

Tamara tucked a piece of hair behind her ear delicately and cleared her throat. Call assumed it was her way of clearing the tension, but in all honesty it didn't seem to do much. 

    “Alright, you two take care of Scylla and Beelzebub and Jasper and I will take care of Legion and Anthroverta. We’ll all meet at the base of the Pinnacle in a week's time, okay?”

Aaron nodded his head solemnly. His easy going mood seemed to have been depleted completely and Call still couldn’t find a way to decipher the hidden conversation that had gone on between Aaron and Jasper. 

Jasper had called Aaron a Belmont twice and it had seemed to irritate the blonde immensely. Call remembered Tamara mentioning the “Belnades” and “Belmonts”. These supposedly special surnames means you had cool powers like Tamara’s magic and…Call thought for a second. Maybe Belmonts all had super flexibility or something? Either way, calling Aaron a Belmont could in no way be used as an insult. It seemed like a good thing. 

    “Call? You coming?” Aaron asked, already a few feet ahead of him. Call glanced around him. They had apparently wrapped up the conversation in the time he had analyzed Aaron’s mood swing. Glancing behind himself, he was even able to glimpse Tamara’s braid sway as she walked farther and farther away. Well that goodbye had been awfully sentimental. It had lasted so long he hadn't even realized it had happened.

    “Y-Yeah, I’m coming,” Call jogged up to Aaron’s place and matched his pace as they began to walk forward.

The effect of Jasper’s blood still seemed to be strong because he still didn’t feel his bad leg at all, or even any slight sense of fatigue. Luckily, Aaron didn’t seem to notice any major changes with the way he walked and they continued forward in silence for a while. Call found himself frowning. He liked Aaron generally. He seemed to be mostly nice and he laughed with him instead of at him. And yet, Jasper had ruined the entire beginning of their journey with his stupid big mouth. Call didn't even understand how, he just had. The worst part was that Call couldn't even say anything. It wasn’t like Aaron and him were that close, he couldn't just try to comfort him. That would be so awkward and weird. 

After walking for what felt like an eternity, Aaron finally sighed loudly and let his shoulders sag. He ran a hand through his golden hair and gave Call the best smile he seemed he could manage at the moment. Call was not jealous in the slightest about the fact that he still looked like model-material when he disheveled his own appearance. If he ran a hand through his own hair, he would have resembled a wild monkey in a jungle somewhere. But he mostly felt glad that Aaron had shaken off his daze.

    “Sorry, Call it's just,” Aaron sighed once again, his hand running through Havoc’s fur absentmindedly as they walked. “I know Jasper can be a real prick sometimes, but he only becomes like that when he’s nervous or threatened. He’s not actually a bad guy.”

Call guessed his face looked pretty disbelieving as Aaron quickly raised his hands and furthered his previous statement.

    “I’m not making excuses for him or anything, it’s just- he’s been through a lot and he kind of acts that way to everyone.”

    “He doesn’t act that way to Tamara,” Call muttered.

Aaron scratched his neck in an embarrassed sort of way. 

    “Yeah, they’ve known each since they were kids, and…”

    “And?” Call prompted.

    “I think he kind of liked her at some point in time,” Aaron finished in a small voice. 

Call almost felt his eyes pop out of his head. Of all the things he had experienced up to this moment, this was by far the most unexpected. Jasper liking Tamara?! Sure she was probably the prettiest and strongest girl Call had ever met, but like… Like what? Call found his eyes unknowingly drawn to Aaron’s profile and he stared at him oddly for a moment. Call shook himself out of his reverie and stopped walking to emphasize the insanity that he was about to repeat aloud. His own personal weirdness could go on the back burner for the next ten years. He would deal with it later.

    “Jasper likes Tamara?!?’

Havoc seemed to sense Call’s shock and he ran in circles around him while Aaron peeked sheepishly over his shoulder at the pair. 

    “I don't know about now, but I think he used to…” Aaron said, his voice still soft. “It was just this one time back in junior high when I had first come to train at Ecclesia. We were all probably around eleven years old and Tamara had been my first friend there. And at the end of each year Ecclesia holds a celebratory dance for successfully keeping Dracula at bay for yet another year… Anyway, that year Tamara had asked me to go with her to the dance and without thinking twice, I said yes. A few days earlier, I had been in the bathroom and heard Jasper reciting poetry. Something about the beauty of her sparkling eyes and dark hair…I didn't realize it until later, but I think he had wanted to ask Tamara to the dance.”

Call was still trying to get over that Jasper could both feel and write poetry but he was able to utter a much more sensible question. 

    “Did you ever ask him about it?”

“I had meant to but,” Aaron sighed, “The next month Jasper’s dad openly defected to Constantine’s side. I mean he was already going through so much, and we weren't that close… I just didn't want to upset him any more than he already was.”

Call hummed his affirmation. So that was what Drew had meant. Since Jasper’s dad apparently worked under whichever big evil guy was currently ruling in Constantine’s stead, Drew could easily dispose of him at any time. Not only that, it seemed to be a known fact that Jasper’s dad had left Ecclesia since here Aaron was telling him all the facts. Jasper hadn’t been a traitor at all, in fact he had wanted exactly the same thing as Call: to save his dad. 

Silence once again enveloped the trio as they began to walk forward. The only sound was the clicking sound of Havoc’s claws on the stone. Call watched as his tail swished back and forth as he walked, a spring in his every step. He couldn't help but wonder how easy Havoc’s life must be, how carefree. He didn't have to worry about relationships or parents, or anything really. 

    “Must be a pretty easy life living as Havoc, huh Call?” Aaron asked, a tired smile painting his face. 

Call looked at Aaron, clearly shocked. 

    “Dude, I was literally just thinking that,” he exclaimed, half-shocked half-worried. What else had his brain been broadcasting to the world?

    “I guess we’re just in sync or something,” Aaron offered, shrugging. 

Call turned his face away and began walking forward at a more swift pace. He had never been in sync with someone before. What did that even mean? Something stupid probably.

    “Trust me, you don't wanna be in sync with me,” Call mumbled rather quickly.

Chapter Text

Aaron and Call chatted randomly about different topics as they proceeded through the empty halls of the castle. Call got so immersed with the conversation he had forgotten to ask Aaron where exactly they were even headed. Even so, it was kind of nice talking to someone about normal and random things despite being trapped in a demonic castle. Their conversation was even pleasant enough to distract Call from some of the more "dangerous" things plaguing his mind. Overall the entire experience was pretty good. It was only when they reached a particular dark deep crevice in the usually solid stone floor, did Call come back to his senses. 

Upon closer inspection the crevice wasn’t actually much of a crevice at all; in fact it seemed to be more of a pitch black hole that gave way to more and more nothingness. It reminded him vaguely of his own mind: dark, empty, and unrecognizable. Call quickly choked out a laugh in an effort to dispel the depravity of his own thoughts. That had gotten dark pretty fast. Aaron gave him slightly confused look.

"Hey, Call, don't you think this is all pretty weird?" Aaron asked, his hand on his chin.

"Which part, the fact that vampires are real and are currently trying to kill us or the fact that Jasper is still able to change his hairstyle everyday despite not even having a comb?"

Aaron stood still for a moment before breaking out into chuckles. 

"How does he do that?" The blonde asked genuinely. When Call answered with a shrug, Aaron quickly regained his composure and corrected his previous words. "What I meant is like, isn't it weird that we haven't been attacked at all? This entire time? We've been walking for like two or three hours."

Aaron was right, they had been walking for a while without being attacked, but it wasn't odd for Call. He hadn't been attacked at all unless one counted the Alura Une who hadn't really even attacked him. They probably all stayed away because they could somehow sense he was a vampire. Maybe they felt some sort of kinship with him. Now that was really weird.

"Uh, yeah that is weird," Call said belatedly. He was not about to incriminate himself. The fifth amendment usually would have protected him from such a fate, but Ecclesia seemed to make its own rules. And Call was not about to make any more mistakes lest he accidentally give Aaron another reason to suspect him. The blonde seemed trusting enough, but he definitely wasn't dumb. 

 "You don't think-" Aaron started, but was quickly interrupted as Havoc leaped into the darkness with not so much as a yap. 

Both boys froze for a millisecond before simultaneously shouting the dog's name in unison.

"HAVOC!!!"

After a forlorn yelp sounded from the darkness, Call felt himself breath out a sigh of relief. That dog of his could really make him go crazy sometimes. Jumping and going wherever he wanted… Who did he think he was? 

"We shouldn't let him stay down there alone for much longer. Let’s head down, Scylla should be somewhere around there anyway," Aaron informed helpfully. And then he reached out his hand towards the shorter boy "Ready?"

Call made a rather distorted face and motioned towards the ominous hole casually. 

"Ladies first, right?"

"I thought I was the hero and you were the damsel?" Aaron laughed, smiling mischievously. 

     "I'm pretty sure I said cripple not damsel.” Call scoffed. Him being a damsel? What was Aaron even thinking? The only damsel in their group was obviously Jasper. “And don't go getting a big head Stewart, I'll be right behind you.”

 Aaron gave a half shrug, a teasing smile still painted on his lips. 

    “Well, here I go! Geronimo!” Aaron shouted as he leaped downward. 

Call watched in complete awe as Aaron sailed into the darkness gracefully. He even heard the heels of his boots click on stone as the blonde most likely stuck the landing. Call wondered if he could do that now that he had drunk Jasper’s blood. He sure as hell was going to try. 

Call neared the hole and peered over its edge. The darkness had only seemed to get blacker as both his friends entered into it; the longer Call stared the more it seemed to spill over the edges. It was like a pool of thick ink the colour of pitch, pouring over the edges of its container and swallowing everything in its eternal darkness. Call couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from it. Something about it seemed so familiar...

    “Call?” Aaron called from below. 

Call immediately snapped out of his reverie, his thoughts scrambled. 

    “Yeah, I’m coming,” Call answered back. 

Without wasting another moment dawdling over the edge, Call leaped into the darkness below, scrunching his eyes shut in trepidation. There was a short period of time where he felt like he was floating before finally hitting the solid ground.

Upon landing, Call felt a hot spiking pain climb up his left leg which caused him to hiss and crumble forward. At least he had landed on something soft. Oh wait...

"Call are you okay?" Aaron asked, his earlier teasing tone replaced with worry. Even despite the fact Call had fallen on him, and he was the one who would have taken the most damage from the jump, the blonde was still asking if he was okay. Typical heroic Aaron. 

"I'm fine," he quickly pushed himself off Aaron and attempted to stand, only to feel his leg cramp up again. He quickly grabbed at his leg in an effort to quell the throbbing, but he ended up losing his balance instead; he fell backwards rather painfully. Call even thumped his head on a well placed rock near the bottom of his descent and it took most of his will power not to curse. 

He was still trying to make a good impression on Aaron after pushing him down the stairs okay? Even if he had already made a complete fool of himself.

"Call!!" The blonde cried out, rushing down to his side. Call watched through squinted eyes as the blonde easily scaled the rough terrain without taking a single breath。If he had drunk more of Jasper's blood he may have been able to do that too. He might have even been able to make the jump too. Not that he would actually drink anymore of anyone's blood. He had only done it that one time because circumstances had forced him to. It wasn't like he was counting on doing it again... He really wasn't. "Call, do you understand me? Can you answer? Are you okay?"

By the time Aaron ended asking his flurry of incessant questions, Havoc had also joined the scene and had begun sniffing at Call's head as if he was a trained medical examiner. Like the dog's nose was capable of sniffing out a head injury. Aaron watched the pup seriously, as if he was awaiting the diagnosis. Call swatted away Aaron's worried hands and Havoc's nose. 

"No, I'm not okay," Call started, stopping mid-sentence in order to make sure he had both of their full attentions. When Aaron's eyes began to bulge, Call decided it had been long enough. "Who even says "geronimo" anymore?"

Aaron gaped at him for a second. When he finally caught onto the fact that the shorter boy was indeed alright, he let his lips fall back into a familiar smile. 

"Says the one who's wearing bell bottoms."

Call laid his head back on the stone, letting a rare smile slip through.

"I wouldn’t be so confident telling me that when you're wearing that," Call paused for a moment examining Aaron’s old victorian-esque attire. What was he even wearing? Call didn't think he had a word in his vocabulary to describe the odd clothes. “Vest?”

“I’m pretty sure you can’t say that if you don’t even know what I’m wearing.”

“Touché.”

Call was glad Aaron took easily to their friendly bickering. It gave his leg a moment to recover.

After a few moments of messing around with Havoc, Aaron rose to his feet and stretched. Call followed suit -albeit a little painfully- and finally took a moment to gaze about the area he had fallen. 

Apparently they had fallen into a completely new area yet again and it was surprisingly nowhere near as dark as it had appeared from the outside. It was like he was in a giant cave created out of black-blue coloured rocks. There were odd patches of some weird looking moss-lichen cross growing all over the place and Call felt very glad he had landed on Aaron rather than whatever that was. It grew in small clumps of green, sprouting pustule looking red lumps that seemed to swell the more he watched them. Gross.

 And the most odd part of it all was the phosphorescent stones up above him. They resembled glowing green gems lighting the path in an almost mystical and mysterious way, yet Call sensed that their beauty wasn't as genuine as it appeared. Maybe it was because the gems seemed to wiggle and move if he looked for too long. Rocks shouldn't be moving. He simply supposed he wouldn't look at anything too long in the caves. That seemed like the best course of action.

Even Havoc seemed out of sorts. Where he usually would be sticking his nose into anything that looked particularly interesting, he seemed to be eyeing the stones and moss with as much disdain as Call himself. 

Call breathed out a puff of air and rubbed his arms in an effort to warm them. It also seemed to be completely freezing. Perfect way to top off this amazing experience. Whoever was running the stupid castle needed to check on the thermostat as soon as possible. 

“Let’s take care of Scylla fast, and get out of here,” Aaron said, obviously sharing in their discomfort. 

    “Sounds good to me,” Call agreed easily. And Havoc was quick to yap his agreeing opinion as well. 

The trio headed off in a direction that Aaron had deemed, “totally the right direction” and set off. Unlike the previous areas they had visited, Call felt like he was particularly struggling with the terrain within the caves. He didn't know if it was the uneven rock underfoot, or the fact that everything was slickened with some sort of weird moisture that seemed to permeate the air, but he was running out of energy much faster than he had before. Even the flight of a million stairs hadn't seemed to take so much out of him… Or maybe it was the fact that he had drunk Jasper’s blood. He had never felt as invigorated as he had after drinking it, and now he was finally coming down from his high. It oddly made a decent amount of sense to him. 

But the truly worst part of it of all was the fact that Aaron didn't seem ready to slow down at all. He was still plowing through room after room like he had all the energy in the world. Call was managing to keep up solely out of his desire to not embarrass himself. It was a surprisingly strong will that pushed him forward. 

It wasn't until they approached an intimidatingly large body of water, did Aaron finally decide to stop walking; Call didn't think he had been more thankful for anything in his entire life. Aaron walked on the short stone outcropping that hung over the darkened water, and looked down towards the waves expectantly. Upon catching sight of something in the darkened water, his eyes lit up and he pointed towards it enthusiastically.

    “There, that's our ride across this river. Once we’re across this, we can finally make camp and call it a day!” 

Call walked onto the outcropping in an attempt to get a glimpse of their so-called “ride”. Surprisingly enough, a silver boat seemed to have floated their way and now bobbed steadily, the dark waves lapping at its edges. Call could have sworn that the boat hadn't arrived until they had, but astonishingly there seemed to be no ferryman to have paddled the boat there. There was only a single silver oar connected by a chain.

The entire structure glimmered mystically in the reflection of the dark waves, in an almost inviting way. Call scoffed, like anyone would be stupid enough to board such an obvious trap.

Call frowned, Aaron wasn't really pointing to this boat was he? The blonde would have to be crazy to trust a creepy boat to carry them safely across. He voiced his thoughts desperately.

    “You don't really mean to, like, actually get on this thing right? I mean how would we even get on it in the first pla-”

Havoc leaped from a small area on the outcropping they had stood on and into the boat easily. The boat rocked slightly when he landed, but showed no signs of sinking or capsizing. The display of the boat’s sturdiness did little to comfort Call.

    “Just like that!” Aaron responded confidently. 

Even though the boat’s stability hadn't impressed Call, it seemed to have really given Aaron the last bit of assurance he needed. Great. Just great, Havoc was going to accidentally drive Call insane one of these days.

"Okay, so I know it might be kind of shocking, but I don't think I can… I don't think I can-"

"Do you trust me?"

"Yes, I trust you, it's the boat I don't trust. Who knows where that creepy-"

"Hang on," Aaron said, grinning slightly at Call's frantic speech.

Call honestly had no idea where Aaron was going with all his nonsense. According to the physics class he barely passed, jumping from the outcropping to the boat should be impossible. Not to mention the obviously rigged-and definitely creepy as hell- boat. And maybe, just maybe it didn't have anything to do with physics or magic. Those were just excuses, maybe Call just really didn't want to on the boat. Obviously this was- His thoughts came to a screeching halt as he felt an arm wrap around his waist. Wait, what? Call's thoughts short circuited for the second time that second as Aaron easily lifted them both and leaped across the distance with ease. The blonde had even managed to land so delicately, the boat didn't shift at all.

Aaron quickly released him after landing, the tips of his ears red. His earlier grin had morphed into something more sheepish and embarrassed.

"Sorry, Call. I know you don't like being touched, but you looked really tired and I didn't want you to get your skin burned off by the freezing poison water, " Aaron took in a single breath inward and then looked closely at the toes of his boots, "Sorry."

Call was in far more shock than he was in anger. He hadn't known the water was poisonous. He also didn't know Aaron had superhuman reflexes. It made sense, in fact he even remembered speculating it at one point, but really seeing it in action was a completely different story. Tamara's magic would have been shocking too if Alistair's disappearance hadn't been overpowering it. Call's brain only had so much room for dealing with such things.

"So, are you human?" His current stupid line of questioning probably meant he was pretty darn low on brain energy.

Aaron's eyes widened a little at the question, but he answered earnestly as he began to row. 

"Yeah, we all are. Everyone is except Drew and his dad."

"Who's Drew's dad? Have I met him?"

Aaron seemed to contemplate for a moment before carrying on.

"I don't think you have, but you'd know if you did. He's super intense and all he talks about is Dracula. I guess it kinda' makes sense since he is the one behind all of this "trying to revive Dracula and take over the world" stuff. He's really crazy. "

Call tried his best to keep his face from paling. He had most certainly met a character with a similar description. But to even imagine it was Drew's father… No wonder he turned out that way! The apple never really did fall far from the tree! So that meant that Constantine really was dead huh. And Drew's dad was the problem.   He would need to add that to his mental "possible people trying to murder me and my dad" list. 

When Aaron gave him a tense look, a drop of cold sweat ran down his back. Call worried his bottom lip in an effort to look as nondescript as possible. Had something obvious shown on his face? Had Aaron caught something he shouldn't have seen? 

"Look, Call, I know we haven't known each other for very long, and I know that you've probably been through a heck lot more than your letting on, but please know..." Aaron paused for a moment, his eyes shining solemnly, "That you can rely on me."

Call made the mistake of looking into Aaron's shining eyes. It was like he was consumed by the desire to simply share everything, to disregard Drew's father's words, to let go and tell Aaron everything. But Call bit his tongue until he tasted iron in an effort to keep his secrets safe. He had heard this line before. And none of them kept it. The only person who had was his dad. Who could say Aaron was any different from them? Even if he wanted him to be different.

His decision weighed on him more than he expected. He wanted to tell Aaron everything, but there was just too much risk. He didn't know why, Aaron was just… He was just different in some weird way. Call barely understood it all himself. However now that such an offer had been made, Call couldn't stay silent. He had to say something.

"So are all vampires evil? Do they all have to be killed no matter what?"

Aaron looked at him, clearly surprised he had answered, but was quick to reply.

"Everything born in this world has a purpose."

"You can't really tell me hornets and mosquitos need to be alive," Call interjected. 

"What I mean is," Aaron amended, "That every vampire doesn't have to be evil. Sure that may be what lots of people think, but I mean look at Drew. He's not evil, just misunderstood. I'm not gonna kill him or anybody for that."

Call rose his brows.

"You're not?"

"No, I'm not. I haven't told Tamara or anyone yet, but I'm not gonna kill Drew just because he made one bad decision. Being a vampire shouldn't have to equal death for anyone."

Call couldn't keep the shock from entering his face. He didn't know what he had expected when he had asked that question, but it surely wasn't such pure and honest resolve. He hadn't expected Aaron to answer that way at all.

"Even though you're a Belmont?" Call asked. He cursed himself as soon as it left his tongue, but it had inevitably slipped past his filter. He just hoped Aaron wouldn't give him the cold shoulder.

"Especially because I'm a Belmont."

Chapter Text

“It's because of that name that so many people look up to me, so I have to set an example.” Aaron was no longer looking at Call, but instead down at his feet. His brows were furrowed with determination and his shoulders were tense, yet he didn't seem to waver at all in his beliefs. Even though Call was almost positive Ecclesia wouldn't accept his decision with ease- at least judging on how quickly Tamara had tried to wipe him out when she had ‘discovered’ his vampirism. 

“Did you ever even know Drew?” 

Aaron gave a half shrug.

    “I mean we used to attend classes together in Ecclesia, but I never hung out with him. He didn't seem to like me too much.”

Call nodded, unsurprised. Who would have guessed that Aaron, who was handsome, strong, and popular, also had a perfectly straight moral compass too. He didn't even need to know Drew to want to save him either, Aaron was just that good . The stupid blonde even put his undying faith in Call, whose moral compass seemed to have been close to one too many magnets. It was so screwed up he even lied to perfect, kind Aaron who might have even tried to help him. What was wrong with him?

    “Call?” Aaron asked, unknowing of his current mental meltdown.

Despite wanting to cover his face, Call looked upwards painfully.

    “Yeah?”

    “Did you ask the question about the vampire because that person who you mentioned you were looking for is a vampire?”

To even think he had wanted to hide his face earlier, now the desire was multiplied tenfold. Aaron’s question was like a double edged sword. If Call were to deny it, it would indeed make it look like he himself was the vampire- afterall, who else would he be asking for? But if he were to confirm it, he could be putting his possibly dead father into a difficult position if he was alive. Which he most definitely was. 

Call held his head in his hands. This was the reason why his moral compass was so messed up. How was he supposed to know the right thing to say when every other thing could possibly expose him or one of his million other secrets? The guilt and weight of it all seemed to finally be getting to him, and it was more crushing then he had anticipated.

    “Kind of? I mean…” Call bit his bottom lip in dismay, “Maybe, I don't know.”

Aaron opened his mouth, ready to respond but was interrupted as the boat hit a hard stone. They seemed to have reached the opposite side of the river. Both boys jerked forward with the force and Havoc took the moment to sniff at the air dramatically. It took a moment for Aaron to right himself, but once he had waved away the mist that had settled around them, their previous conversation had been forgotten.

    “Looks like we’re here.”

    “Great.” Call said sarcastically. He was feeling even more drained after his conversation with Aaron. Even if it had been enlightening in a rather pleasant way, it was definitely more exhausting than anything.

    “Do you want me to help you ou-”

    “No need to waste your heroics on me this time,’’ Call answered rather quickly. He noticed the way Aaron immediately looked away in a dejected manner after his swift and ruthless refusal, but he didn't say anything about it. It wasn't even that blonde had done anything wrong, Call felt mostly angry at himself. Everything was just so complicated. 

Aaron gracefully leaped from the ledge onto the convenient outcropping that stood out over the river. Call was next and he painstakingly made his way to the top. The cimb was hard and painful, but he said nothing. Upon seeing his master’s safe arrival at the top of the outcropping, Havoc also lept from the boat to the stone platform. 

As he landed he didn't waste a moment before sniffing and nudging at Call incessantly. The boy looked up at Havoc tiredly.

    “What’s up boy?”

Havoc paced around nervously. Whatever had been bothering him had only been growing on him, and now that he had reached solid ground, it seemed to have reached its peak. The dog gave one last nervous glance at his owner, and bolted down the adjacent hallway. It didn't take long for Call to stand. He watched his puppy dash away in an exhausted stupor before his brain began slowly clicking back to life. Havoc was running away again. It wasn't like the few times he had jumped a few steps ahead, he had really just dashed away for the second time in his entire life. Call didn't have anyone to hold him back this time, he was going to follow Havoc like his life depended on it. 

    “Stop, Havoc, Call! Where are you guys going?!  Scylla is that way and neither of us are in shape to fight her!” Aaron shouted from behind him, but Call didn't listen.

He charged after Havoc foolishly. The situation was far too familiar with Aaron being the only deviation. Call had encountered the same darkness with his father earlier in the forest and at that time Havoc had ran away too. It couldn't be a coincidence, there had to be something up ahead. Maybe it was Drew’s dad… Or maybe it was his dad.

 He passed through each corridor carelessly as he attempted to keep sight of Havoc’s bushy tail. Hope was surging through his mind like a rejuvenating spring breeze. If his dad really was up ahead, he would have to save him and possibly heal him and… A tight smile made its way to Call’s lips. Alistair would know what to do about all of his problems. No more worrying about deception, lies, and vampires. Everything was going to be fine.

It wasn't long until the pitter patter of Havoc’s paws slowed and Call entered into a large cavern. It stunk of ash and rot and disgusting clumps of reddish debris covered the floor. Havoc was pacing agitatedly in the corner, his nose turned downwards sniffing at a specific pile intently. The large chasm was empty except for the two of them so Call felt no need to stop his descent toward the dog. In his haste he ended up tumbling most of the way down and skinning his knees, but he had at least made it to Havoc. 

    “Dad?” Call called into the cave. His voice bounced off the stone walls echoing, yet there was no response to be heard and no further path to travel. Alistair wasn't anywhere in sight. Call swallowed thickly, his hopes dissolving as if they had never existed. 

    “Havoc, why did you run in here? What's wrong with you?”

The wolf began to whine softly as he nosed at something lost within the debris. Call supposed if Havoc was sticking his nose in the pile of rot it must not have been dangerous so he quickly began digging around in search of Havoc’s current dilemma. Most of whatever was in the pile was wet, sticky, and warm. It was so disgusting, he had to keep a hand over his nose and mouth to keep from retching. He rummaged around before he felt something in the pile move. Call’s arm shot back as if it had burned and he turned to look at Havoc nervously. Havoc had flinched  backwards too; he had moved from a curious sniffing position into a haunched ready-to-attack position pretty quickly. Call guessed it was a pretty good time to ready his gun. 

Both stared at the pile before Call’s anxiety overcame him. He shot at the pile multiple times and then stood as still as possible as he watched the steaming pile of red goo steam. 

    “You think it's dead, right?” he asked the wolf, though he wasn't particularly keen on getting an answer. 

Havoc didn't seem too enthusiastic in sticking his nose back into the reddish muck so Call figured he had to check himself. Just to make sure, of course.

Peering at the pile from above offered little to no evidence of life and the pile of sludge didn't seem to be deep enough to hide any super dangerous monsters. With that comforting thought in mind, Call sucked in a deep breath and nudged the pile lightly with the toe of his shoe. The muck oozed outwards, but showed no hidden monster.  

Sheathing his gun back into his belt, the dark-haired boy finally felt himself breathe. Defeating Rahab had given him a lot of confidence in the monster-hunting category of life, yet anytime he came close to fighting any sort of beast he couldn't help but feel his heart race. It was both thrilling and terrifying and he was still kind of trying to figure out if he hated it or not. 

After scuffing his shoes off on a decently clean stone, Call was ready to wipe his mind of the entire situation until he felt movement in his peripheral. It was only a slight shift in the darkness of the cave’s corner and the longer he stared at the unsuspecting wall, the more he felt his mind was playing tricks on him. Nothing had moved. When Havoc let out a low growl, Call turned to look at him tiredly. 

    “What is it now Havoc? There is literally nothing here,” he groaned, slightly frustrated. The dog had led him on another goose chase and now it was up to him to somehow explain the entire situation to Aaron...Who most definitely had a right to be mad at him considering his recklessness. Havoc let out a low growl once again.

 "Care to explain yourself?" Call asked, and this time Havoc barked right back, shattering the silence. "That's it? That's all you're gonna say?" 

The seemingly deranged puppy began to bark wildly at the boy. He bared his teeth at him ferociously and Call glanced around himself in a very confused manner. What was he throwing a tantrum at now? 

"Is it me?"

Havoc continued to bark.

"Is it behind me?"

The dog continued to bark and Call felt completely clueless as to the reason for his dilemma. He reached to scratch his head for a moment and paused when his hand came into contact with something hollow. His blood seemed to run cold as he finally uttered his next question.

    “I-is it on me?”

Havoc howled triumphantly and Call took the chance to turn his neck as cautiously as he could around. A large green head peeked right back at him from just over his shoulder, causing Call to squeal in a pitch so high, he had assumed he had outgrown it years ago. 

Without a second thought, he threw both the jacket and the green monstrosity from himself, unsheathed his gun and shot up a storm. Havoc barked encouragingly as Call mercilessly shot up the pimp coat. Other than complete and utter demolition of the monster and his coat, nothing seemed to be out of sorts anymore. Havoc had calmed down too.

    “Call, I heard you scream are you okay?!” Aaron asked, rushing onto the scene valiantly...albeit very late. 

    “That wasn't me screaming, it was Havoc,” Call quickly clarified, although the disbelieving look Aaron gave did little to comfort his injured pride. “There was just this, man sized green centipede looking thing. And it was kind of, like on me.”

“Uhuh.”

 “And I killed it.” Call concluded rather thoroughly. He might as well have tied that perfect conversation up with a nice red bow; kudos to him.

“Right,” Aaron said. He couldn't tell if it was because he was on physically higher ground or what, but the blonde seemed to be looking down on him or maybe he was looking down on the ‘centipede’s’ remains. Aaron was eyeing his steaming jacket with enough scrutiny to send even the stupid monster’s corpse running back to hell. And Call, well, he was wondering if that monster had room for one more. “So you’re good right?”

“Totally. 100%. Tip top shape here.”

Aaron shook his head at Call’s exaggerated answer, a fond smile spreading across his lips and then began to examine the cave. He placed his hand on his chin and spoke, though not directly at Call. He seemed to be talking through his own thoughts.

    “This is where Scylla is supposed to be. But she’s not here…” He paused and then whispered, “And the hallways were clear too…Call, that's it!”

    “What's it?” he asked dumbly.

    “The hallways earlier had no enemies neither did the caves, Scylla is missing from her lair, the most obvious explanation is that someone was here before us. Someone, who isn't me, you, Tamara, or, Jasper is in Dracula’s castle defeating the evil!” 

    “So what you mean is,” Call said, connecting the dots as swiftly as he could. “You think the person I’m looking for is the one behind all this.”

Chapter Text

After their discovery, both boys felt so drained they couldn't even muster the energy to tell each other so. Even Havoc seemed dispirited and lethargic.  With a despairing look shared between them, they headed off to a resting room. In this way neither would have to keep watch. As Aaron had explained, the resting rooms were posted all throughout the castle and marked with the signature angel statue Call had admired days earlier. The room offered a brief reprieve to adventurers and kept the monsters at bay somehow. Basically, it was the best thing in the entire castle. Call hadn't even dealt with the monsters so much and he felt that way.

Upon their arrival, the raven-haired boy immediately felt his limbs ache fiercely and he melted into a puddle on the hard stone floor. He didn't even mind the cold harshness of it, exhaustion consumed his mind. Havoc joined him and cuddled closely to his owner. Call couldn't help but wrap his arms around the fluffy wolf and revel in the warmth he released. It wasn't long until Aaron sat down too.

    “We can eat tomorrow, if that's okay with you,” Aaron whispered as he began to recline a ways away from the pair. 

Call hummed an affirmation, his eyes already fluttering shut. Before he could truly doze, an icy wind blew from no which direction, burning his exposed skin. He quickly blew out a breath to warm his hands and in an effort to  try and quell his shivers. He didn't even want to imagine how bad that might have felt with Havoc gone.

    “Hey, Aaron, I thought I told you Havoc doesn't bite…” when Call heard the blonde turn towards him, he cleared his throat and pressed on, “He wouldn't mind if you wanted to, uh, keep warm… with him.”

    “It's okay Call, you don't have to force yourself. I don't mind sleeping alone, it's not that cold,” Aaron said, obviously trying- and failing- to keep the chattering of his teeth to a minimum. 

Call widened his eyes for the first time since entering the resting room.

    “I’m not forcing myself to do anything, the more the merrier, right?” and when Aaron stayed silent he sighed loudly, “Just get over here already.”

Call heard him shifting and making his way over. As Aaron began to situate himself, their hands brushed and he discovered just what “not that cold'' meant. His hands felt like blocks of solid ice. Aaron seemed to freeze up even more at the bit at the contact, but soon relaxed again. 

    “Thanks,” he whispered.

    “Mmm-hmm. Night,” Call murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He had originally meant to tease Aaron about his bashfulness, but his eyelids kept fluttering shut. And even though the other boy’s face should only be a few inches from his, Call couldn't seem to focus on it. He must truly be very tired. 

    “Goodnight Call.” 

After the brief conversation, both boy’s fell into a deep, untroubled sleep.

Call pillowed his head deeper into his bony arms. It had been his way of making a makeshift pillow, but it suddenly seemed cottony and soft. Almost- might he dare say- comfortable? He rubbed his head into his imaginary pillow, smiling; what better dream could be conjured then one of a cloud-like pillow?

    “GET UP!”

Call blearily opened a single eye to glare up at Aaron because no one except his dad could yell at him like that, and wait- Aaron would never yell at him. Call sat up, slightly shocked but also quite delighted at the fact that he was in a bed. Not one that he was familiar with, which in itself should have been slightly terrifying, but a bed nonetheless. 

Lying back down, Call pillowed his head into the luxurious cushion before turning to examine it. It turned out to be no cushion at all. Instead it seemed like wispy tufts of pink clouds had been spun together to create whatever he was currently laying on. He buried his face in it, inhaling as deeply as he could before grinning boyishly. His pillows were pink, cloud-like, and smelled of vanilla and warm sugar? Obviously they were made of cotton candy! 

Without wasting another moment over contemplation, Call took a large bite out of spun sugar, delighting as it dissolved on his tongue in mere seconds. After his discovery, he quickly turned his attention to his comforter which seemed to be made of melted marshmallows. They even smelled faintly of smoke and ash… Call took a large bite of his blanket too. Just as he was getting ready to gnaw on his bed posts that were definitely  made of rolled wafers, a loud cough caught his attention. Oh, right, there was someone else there with him.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” the person demanded. 

The person sitting in front of him was none other than Jasper, except he seemed kind of different. Call couldn't really put his finger on it. 

    “I’m enjoying my good dream. What're you doing? Why did my subconscious let you in here?”

Jasper gawked and then stood from his chair, approaching Call in a slightly frightening manner. He was dressed in frilly clothing that was dyed in different hues of hazelnut, sepia, and coffee. When he stood it was like the scent of warm cocoa filled the air and Call couldn't help but inhale deeply. Jasper sucked, but he at least smelled amazing in this dream.

    “We literally have been planning for weeks for this and you have the gall to ask me what I'm doing here?! The ball! That’s why I’m here!”

    “I thought this was a dream- hey wait, what about Dracula’s cast-”

    “Shut up with your excuses and get out of bed! We’re already late, hurry up and get dressed, I’ll explain everything on our way to the castle!” without wasting another moment, Jasper stomped out of the quaint room, stopping only to give Call a weird look, “And would you stop eating your own house?”

Call stood from his candy bed and onto his peppermint-plated flooring, ignoring Jasper’s comment completely. He picked up the remaining part of his pillow and began to chew slowly as he attempted to understand what had just happened. 

He had gone to sleep in Dracula’s castle and woken up in some freakishly ( a little bit amazing) weird Candy Land. He pinched himself and a sharp pain radiated from the abused spot; this was by far the most realistic dream he had ever had, if it even included such an intense physical feeling. There was even the hyper-real looking Jasper, who wouldn't have made it into any of his dreams unless they were nightmares. He would just have to go with it. Maybe this was some weird magic trial from Dracula’s castle that he needed to pass. And anyway, with everything being so lifelike, the candy sure did taste good. 

After the pain passed, Call stood up again, making his way over to his candy vanity. There was a chocolate-made mirror and he couldn't help but gape when he caught sight of himself. His hair had grown out to look even more disorderly, but his cheeks looked flushed and healthy. Most surprisingly of all was the fact that no dark circles or dirt marred his face. His trip to Dracula’s castle might as well have been forgotten. He even smelled fresh...Almost like peppermint. 

    “Are you almost done getting ready? We’re on a schedule!”

    “Almost!” Call called back out of habit.

He was currently in a frenzy looking for clothes within the small room, but he wasn't finding much other than peppermint patterned tights and cutesy white bloomers. He was not going out in front of Jasper in either of those. When he finally came upon a hidden cookie dresser, Call grinned and threw it open. To his dismay, it seemed the dresser only contained the exact same outfit on ten different hangers. The outfit was a red and white striped turtleneck matched with the atrocious white bloomers and peppermint tights. He must have been on something when he bought ten million different pairs of the same embarrassing outfit. 

    “How long does it even take you to get dressed, you never even look good. I'm coming in,” Jasper said, opening his door unforgivingly. 

    “Is this a joke? I am not wearing these!”

Jasper, looked taken aback for a moment but quickly recovered and pointed at Call offensively.

    “What's  the problem? You're wearing them now, you wore them before! Just put your tights on and let's get on with it!”

Call looked down in horror at his lower body, his face blooming into a deep crimson. He had expected to see the purple and red scars that had once decorated his leg, however; there was nothing on his left leg at all. His left leg looked as unblemished as his right leg. They looked- dare he say- normal? It had a very calming effect on his mind to know that Jasper hadn't seen his mutilated leg and his face almost instantly cooled.

    “Hey, does my leg look, like, normal to you?” Call asked, examining his own limb with fascination. What sort of magic dream land had he landed in? And how might he possibly stay?

    “Yes…?”Jasper glanced at his leg sparingly before averting his gaze quickly. “Anyway, hurry up. We’re already late,” he said with less force. 

    “Uh, do you also have an extra pair of pants I could borrow? Like the full length ones you're wearing?” Call coughed. “Please.”

Jasper’s expression darkened substantially.

    “If you don't put on your tights and bloomers in the next five seconds, I’m gonna put them on you myself.”

    “You can't threaten me, and you also can't tell me you would wear freaking tights in public!” Call yelled, throwing the unfortunate pair of laundry at the other boy. The pair of tights landed on Jasper’s face deftly.

    “If I wore tights in public, I would look hot !” He answered promptly, ripping the pants from his face and tossing them back.

    “Wear them then and give me your pants!”

Jasper easily dodged the offensive pair of clothing being propelled at him and frowned.

    “Okay, stop, you're going to ruin my hair. Now listen, I'll give you two more minutes to change and come out here or else.”

With that he once again spun on his heel, leaving the room in a swirl of cocoa. 

“Like you even have hair left to ruin!” Call called after him.

 Once Jasper had left, Call stood up and stared at the stupid piece of clothing hanging on his gumdrop lamp. He hadn't ever expected to miss the Levi’s bell bottoms he had picked up in Dracula’s castle, but suddenly he felt lost without them. There was just something comfortable about sweet old denim. With his time running out, Call reluctantly pulled his peppermint-themed clothing on; any sense of pride he ever had, dissolving like sugar in water. 

    “So you finally came out huh?” Jasper said smiling. He eyed Call up and down suspiciously, but said nothing and simply began to walk forward. Taking the other boy’s silence as more of a blessing, Call followed behind him awkwardly.

Instead of dealing with Jasper’s uncharacteristic silence, Call took to investigating his surroundings. No matter how he looked at it, he seemed to be stuck in some sort of mystical candyland world with zero relation to Dracula’s castle whatsoever. They were currently walking on a frosted graham cracker road with piles and piles of powdery snow collecting in every nook and cranny...That actually turned out to not be very real snow. Having stuck out his tongue, Call had realized it was powdered sugar falling from the sky. Not to mention the gingerbread houses that lined the streets. Call’s very own home had been made of ginger snap, and while it was both delicious and festive, it was an idiot’s design plan. Who made houses out of cookies?! 

Call broke off a piece of one of the dark chocolate lanterns that lined the street and munched on it numbly. Even the other people on the street resembled various pieces of candies or sweets. Call’s peppermint-printed tights didn't even stand out in the differing crowd of colours.  In the least, anyone that lived in such a place wouldn't have to worry about famine.

“How does everyone living here not have diabetes?” Call asked, finally breaking the silence. 

“For the same reason everyone living here is somehow not obese,” Jasper responded back easily. “Anyway, do you seriously not remember our- my genius plan?”

Call scratched his head. If this really was a dream then it wouldn't really matter what he said to Jasper, but if it was a trial then it might actually matter. He would have to say something.

    “It was so lackluster, I forgot.” Call smiled innocently when Jasper slowed down to turn and give him a despairing look. 

    “You don't remember Quadro-P?” 

Despite his attempt to remain serious, Call couldn't help but giggle immaturely at Jasper’s try at recollection. 

    “Please tell me you're the one that came up with that plan name?” he asked once he had finished laughing. 

Jasper smiled smugly.

    “You’re the one that came up with that stupid name, and it was literally your only contribution to the entire plan. How do you not remember that? How much spiked eggnog did you really drink?”

Call shrugged, latching onto the given excuse easily. 

    “Enough to make up a secret plan name as good as “Quadro-P” apparently.”

Jasper rolled his eyes over-dramatically. 

    “Okay so listen closely, because I’m only gonna say it once. Our plan is called Pickpocket the Prince Plan or for short, “Quadro-P”. We’re gonna go to the ball and while I distract the door guard, you are gonna go dance with the prince. You’re gonna steal his room key while you dance and then motion over to me that you got it. After that, while everyone is distracted, we’ll go sneak into the prince’s room and steal the reward…” Jasper explained excitedly. When Call murmured his response he raised his voice.“Hello?”

    “Right, right,” Call muttered distractedly. As they had been walking, they had just happened to come across a small patch of yellow snow. According to this world’s apparent logic, it had to be made of some sort of sweet. “Hey, what is this yellow stuff made of?  Melted lemonheads or something?”

    “Did you listen to a word I said? And no… that's piss . What is with you? It's common  knowledge not to touch yellow snow,” Jasper said, clearly horrified. 

Call immediately backed away,  glad he hadn't touched the foul liquid yet. Obviously not everything in this world was magical.

    “How was I supposed to know, when everything else in this place is made of sweets?” Call defended weakly. And then he continued because leaving Jasper with the upper hand was never a place he wanted to be in. “Anyway, I got it. But since this is your grand plan, shouldn't you be the one to dance with the prince and steal th-”

    “Shhhh!!! You can't say ‘prince’ and ‘steal’ in the same sentence in public! We don’t wanna get caught before we even start Quadro- P!” Jasper whisper-exclaimed. In Call’s opinion, his outburst had garnered much more attention than this comment. “And you aren’t charming enough to distract anyone. You’re better at ticking them off which is why we have each of our jobs respectively.”

Call gave a half-shrug, he was kind of right.  

    “So what amazing reward are we risking our freedom for?”

“Look!” Instead of answering properly, Jasper dashed up the remaining graham cracker path and sighed enchantedly. “There it is, the place of dreams.” 

As Call made his way to Jasper’s side, he felt his jaw drop downwards on instinct. A palace made solely of translucent sugar towered in front of them, shimmering as the setting sun illuminated it in soft pinks and golds. The sugar seemed just clear enough to peer through, and Call found he was even able to make out the different colourful figures swirling about within the main ballroom. Delicate crystalline arches decorated the surrounding sugary towers making the entire thing seem like it came straight out of Disney World. Only this candyland version wasn't stealing the money of naive kids. Jasper was right, it was the place of dreams...both literally and metaphorically.

“Wow,” Call praised whole-heartedly. 

“Wow indeed, now let's go and get our treasure!” Jasper responded back, making his way to the back of the entry line. Call walked slowly after him, still completely awe-struck. 

It wasn't long before they reached the door guard, and Jasper grinned toothily before pulling out two golden slips of paper from inside his coat pocket. The guard took them easily, waving them both inside. 

“See? I’m a natural, he totally believed those were real,” he whispered to Call still grinning. 

“Yeah, a natural idiot. Anyone could have done that,” Call whispered back. Jasper narrowed his eyes.

The inside of the castle didn't seem to lack a bit of the beauty the outside had boasted of so proudly. A sparkling chandelier made of golden rock candy twinkled above them and reflected off the crystalline walls, bathing everything in its soft shine. Better yet was the entire banquet of food they had laid out. Ten-layered cakes adorned with flowers towered over the dancers, and truffles as well as a numerous amount of other sweets left the air smelling of sweet vanilla. The entire display looked both gorgeous and appetizing, but Call could really go for something salty... He needed something to refill his own bitter attitude; all of the sugar he had eaten was making him go easy on this odd slightly nicer version of Jasper.

    “Jasper?!”

Both boys spun around at the exclamation and it took Call a moment to recognize who he was looking at. It was Tamara, but she looked different. Really different. Her hair was tied up with ribbon and she wore a brightly coloured dress that poofed around her legs and stopped just short of her knees. Glitter covered the first layer of silk, gleaming in every which way she turned, but it didn't compare to the lovely reflection of gold in her dark eyes. Even though she was dressed eccentrically, Call couldn't deny the fact that she looked really pretty. 

    “Scram and find the prince. The real door-guard is here,” Jasper whispered to Call quickly before turning back to her, “Hey, I didn't know you would be coming to this par-tay, Tamara.” 

    “I live here Jasper.” she dead panned. 

Call didn't waste a moment in escaping after that. Jasper was on his own after that awful opener. 

Getting lost in the crowds of satin was easier than he had anticipated and soon enough even the banquet was out of sight. The swirling colours of passing dancers blurred his sight together and he found himself tripping backwards in an effort to not get trampled. 

Stupid tall people with their stupid dances , Call cursed as he began to lose his balance. How was it that these people didn't see him, and try to stop? Luckily for him, a quick hand caught him mid-fall and Call turned to his rescuer, thanks on his lips.

The scent of cinnamon enveloped him before a single word could be spoken. It was warm and spicy and oh so familiar. He knew who had saved him before seeing him. 

    “Nice timing,” Call said, a small smile falling in place on his face. He didn't know why that happened so he hastily tried to regain his normal scowl, but the other seemed to have already caught sight of it given his returned smile.

    “No problem,” Aaron replied easily.

He wore a cream coloured button-down with burnt-sienna breeches and a matching vest. His golden hair was dyed a deep honey colour from the golden light within the castle and, close as he was, Call was able to see the sharp definition of his well-defined jaw bone. The lighting in Dracula’s castle had really done the blonde dirty, at least considering how nice he looked when he was illuminated by the golden light of a chandelier. If Tamara was the prettiest girl in the ballroom, which she definitely was, Aaron was probably the best looking guy in the room. They probably made quite the pair. He unconsciously frowned.

The small pin that was attached to the lapel of his coat certainly did not go unnoticed by the shorter boy. It was small and gold and in the shape of a very suspicious tiny crown. Call didn't even try to hide his obvious scrutiny towards the small object. It was all the proof he needed to determine the fact this was indeed the prince. The entire situation made sense once he thought about it. Tamara had just said she lived in the palace, and she and Aaron always seemed to be together. Aaron was the prince and she was his knight or something. After all, Tamara was too cool to be just a princess.   

Appearances aside, Call really needed to think about what exactly he was doing. Jasper, his “quest-giving NPC”,  had instructed him to steal Aaron’s key, but now he was having second thoughts… Because it was Aaron’s key. Call narrowed his eyes. Was it really his Aaron, though? This was just some weird dream world anyway, even if he did act ridiculous the blonde wouldn't remember it or anything.

 The shorter boy rubbed his chin contemplatively. All he had to do was get the fabled reward and he would probably wake up or get sent back to his own world somehow. Which meant he could embarrass himself as much as he wanted. That made things easier. Call finally turned his attention back to Aaron who seemed to be lost in a world of his own thoughts as well.

    “Hey, this might sound kinda’ weird, but I think we were mint to dance together,” Call said, grinning toothily. His mirth didn't last long.

Aaron took a moment to look at his peppermint-printed tights and then quickly back to his face. It looked like a slight smile was pulling at his lips.

    “You do?” he asked earnestly. 

Call felt his face heat up. After saying something so stupidly embarrassing and actually getting a serious response back, he was quite ready to melt into a pile of nothing and stay, preferably, as far away from Aaron as possible. 

    “Probably?” Call peeped, refusing to meet the other boy’s eyes. His earlier declaration of confidence had seemed to disappear with his sugar-rush and now he felt horribly awkward. That probably meant he needed to eat more candy so he made more sugar-induced bad decisions. At least that way he would have something to blame for his lack of good decision making skills. 

    “Have you ever waltzed before?” the blonde questioned.

 Because somehow he was already a pro...Was there anything he wasn’t good at?

    “Nope.”

    “Just follow my lead,” he said naturally, pulling Call’s hand back towards the mass of twirling figures. 

Call barely had a moment to register what was happening, but somehow his hand had ended up on Aaron’s shoulder while his other hand was clasped firmly in his. The blonde’s other hand rested on his upper back, pulling him close. It was kind of snug, but somehow, more than anything, it felt kind of right .  

Aaron didn't waste another moment before joining the mass of figures and Call could do nothing but follow along reluctantly despite it having been his idea in the first place. He felt a bit like an idiot as he clunkily tried to trace the blonde’s graceful steps, yet despite his efforts, he always seemed to be a step ahead of him. Call watched his feet closely in an attempt to mimic him once again, however, Aaron’s soft whisper brought his attention upward. 

    “Call,” he started, leaning in closely. His breath had the faint smell of cinnamon apples, “Don’t look down. Just follow my steps and match them to my counting.”

“Yeah, right, just follow your counting,” Call muttered, far too embarrassed to say much more. 

After his advice, Aaron continued to count softly in his ear as Call attempted to look anywhere except his feet and Aaron’s face. It didn't take long for him to misstep. The blonde had spun him outward and Call, being the idiot he was, had mistaken Aaron’s foot for the floor when he was being spun back into his arms. His left leg was usually shorter so he usually put a bit more force when stepping with it, even though in this world it was as perfect as a leg could get; he still applied the same amount of force. Just on Aaron’s foot. 

    “Oh- my bad I-” Call began but he was quickly cut off as he opted instead to watch Aaron’s face contort into a myriad of emotions. First, his eyebrows furrowed as much as they possibly could, then his mouth opened in silent shock and torment, and lastly he seemed to try and amend the entire situation with a terribly wobbly smile.

To worsen it, they had been forced to continue the waltz throughout the entire exchange simply because of the sheer amount of couples dancing. They had nowhere to escape to. 

Call couldn't help but laugh as he watched, and then immediately tried to become more solemn like the other regal dancers surrounding them. 

    “I’m okay, thanks for asking Call,” Aaron laughed, a teasing smile painted on his face. 

    “I meant to ask, I just, you just make these faces…” Call watched as Aaron’s smile turned to confusion and instantly regretted his words. “I mean you always look really good, you just-” Call blushed as he slowly realized his admission. He was probably putting the red in his own stupid outfit to shame. He really wanted to say ‘I’m going crazy from all this sugar, please do us both a favour and just forget everything I’ve just said’  but Aaron's face seemed to glow with the brightness of seven suns after receiving the  small compliment. Call wasn't sure how or why he seemed so elated. He had thought Aaron would have known that he looked like prince freaking charming every day of the week. But even he couldn't tear his own eyes away from the blonde's joyful display much less make a sarcastic comment to negate it. His eyes just seemed locked in place.

They danced in small circles just as the other couples did, their dresses and suits painting the background of blur of colour, yet nothing seemed to be as dizzying as the closeness of Aaron’s green eyes. They seemed to be getting closer too, and it was then that Call realized the waltz was over. The music was getting softer as the sound of strings began to wane and everything seemed to come rushing back to him. Aaron was...Call racked his brain for a word: Aaron was dipping him? Somehow the air seemed to heat up even more as his heart hammered away in his chest. It was beating so fast, Call swore the blonde probably heard it. 

Both boys were out of breath and sweating but Call couldn't help but feel completely entranced. He could see the fluttering gold of Aaron’s eyelashes shadowing his emerald coloured eyes; he could see the red staining his cheeks from the exertion. He could even make out the delicate curve of rose outlining his lips.  Call gulped, his own eyes seeming to flitter shut all by themselves. 

***********

    “I want in.” she said defiantly. Her hands were placed firmly on her hips and her lips were pursed.

Jasper shrugged nonchalantly. 

    “To enter Quadro- P, you must have a ‘P’ to join. I’m afraid that's the rule my partner made, Tammy. I wish I could help, but-”

    “And who exactly is your ‘partner’?!”

The Asian boy made a great deal of looking over the masses of twirling figures and then smiled at Tamara falsely. 

    “He is somewhere along, dancing with the prince. Completing my plan. Making history.”

Tamara rolled her eyes dramatically. 

    “He was that short emo looking kid wasn't he?” she questioned, and Jasper, being as smart as he was, did not readily confirm the information. “I saw him start to dance with Aaron, the royal stable hand, but not the prince. In fact, not that you would know this, but the prince isn't coming out of his room until the first waltz finishes. Which it just did.”

Jasper did his best to keep a polite expression on his face and smiled carefully.

    “Would you like to join Quadro- P Tamara? I suddenly think that my partner and I will have too much of that reward to keep to ourselves, and considering the season, sharing is obviously caring.”

Tamara shook her head, clearly exasperated, yet far too accustomed to her friend's antics. 

    “I don’t know why you act so difficult sometimes Jasper. We’ve been working together since we were little, and I was always the smarter one.” she gave him a pointed look and Jasper couldn't help but smile back as fond memories resurfaced. 

    “Keep up with that confidence, and maybe you will be one day,” he replied jokingly. 

Tamara seemed like she wanted to say something more on the subject, but Jasper quickly put up a hand to stop her. Instead he pointed toward a pair of dancers, who at least to Jasper, seemed to be getting a little too close. Without a thought, he plucked a small jawbreaker from a decorative sitting chair and chunked it across the ballroom. It hit Call squarely on the head and Jasper smiled happily at his precision. Tamara barely had a word in before Jasper tut-tutted her right after. 

    “The reward will pay for that.”

She rolled her eyes.

“What have I done ever to you that would make you decide to throw a freaking jaw-breaker at me from across an entire room with thousands of people standing between us?!!” Call exclaimed, pulling Jasper down to his level. And then in a more quiet voice in the Asian-boy’s ear, “I was about to get his key! We were so close until you decided to try and murder me.”

    “You are an idiot.” Jasper replied simply.

    “I don't see what makes you Einstein,” Call retorted, his earlier line of reasoning completely forgotten. 

Tamara pushed between the two, efficiently separating them and making a pathway for both her and Aaron. 

    “We don’t have time for your squabbling. The prince will only be out of his room for a short amount of time. We’ll need to be in and out before anyone realizes anything is missing.” 

    “Wait I thought-”

    “Oh just shut up and come on already,” Jasper said, pulling Call along. 

*********

The group had taken to following Tamara, who had instructed everyone to follow her without error. Jasper and Call seemed to have no other leads except for her and Aaron, well, Call wasn't sure about him, but apparently he was following along too. 

“So you’re telling me that Aaron isn't a prince at all and that the little crown pin he wears symbolizes that he's a ‘royal stablehand’?” Call asked, completely dumb founded.

“Just because someone has a crown doesn't mean they’re a prince. I mean look at you with your Walmart bloomers. They don't make you a Disney princess.” Jasper offered helpfully. Call frowned.

    “It's no surprise you mistook him for one,” Tamara started, “I mean he looks more like a prince than the real one.”

    “Are you saying you thought he looked hot?” Jasper asked.

Call, couldn't tell where the question had come from, but his cheeks seem to heat significantly. What was Jasper even thinking about? The conversation was about princes, not about attractiveness… Not about Aaron being attractive. 

    “No, I never said he looked hot,” Call stated firmly, “What I meant was he kinda stood out to me, that's it.”

A pretty smirk stretched across Tamara’s lips.

    “I think he was talking to me, Call.”

    “I was,” Jasper confirmed, “But that answer was much more interesting than anything you might have come up with, so I am definitely not complaining.”

    “I thought you stood out too,” Aaron said, smiling brightly at Call. 

    “I never wanna be stuck with the three of you at the same time again," Call muttered embarrassedly.

Despite his embarrassment, the conversation continued rather pleasantly. It was almost as if he fit in with the odd group. The thought was pretty nice, once Call thought about it. But the conversation quickly lulled as they approached their destination: The prince’s bedroom.  

" So who is the prince then? And how are we supposed to get into his room?"

"We're obviously going to have to break in," Tamara said, deliberately ignoring his first question. And then after messing with her skirts for a moment she added, "Aaron, if you could help me with this please."

"Wait, so are we even sure that Mr. Goody-two-shoes blondy here is willing to commit crimes? I wasn't under the impression he was invited to Quadro -P and it's dealings," Jasper said, eyeing Aaron suspiciously.

" How has Aaron ever hurt you Jasper?* Call interjected, but the blonde was quick to calm the conversation.

"Tamara and I have been planning to get the reward for weeks now. Meeting you and Call was just luck. And I have no problem stealing an already stolen item. The reward rightfully belongs to the people and we're gonna get it back to them."

"Okay Robin hood. As long as you aren't going to slow us down." Jasper said haughtily.

 "Can you interrogate him later? Tamara obviously needs his help in breaking down the door," Call said, crossing his arms.

"Yeah, sorry about that Tamara," Aaron apologized, joining her with his shoulder pressed against the door. 

Together the two shoved against the prince's locked door until they heard the door shift and click heavily. Turned out hardened sugar wasn't the most secure thing to make a door out of, but it nevertheless worked in their favour. Breaking in without the key was easy as pie.

Call peered within the sugary room and gaped. The prince's room was covered completely from floor to roof with candy horses. Horses made of licorice, marshmallows, rock candy, and practically any candy that he ever thought of existing. It had all  been molded somehow to be in the likeness of a horse. It was like a candy equestrian paradise. To Call, it kind of looked more like hell.

"The prince is Drew isn't it?"

Tamara coughed politely and smiled.

"Yes."

The four stood in awkward silence as everyone tried to adjust to their new surroundings.  The room was just that unpleasant. Call felt like he should have said something, but he was too afraid of being sacrilegious in front of the ponies. It kind of felt they were watching him. 

"So, the reward should be hidden in a vault somewhere." Aaron started, and Call finally felt like he was pulled from his ‘pretty pony’ reverie. 

“I bet it's hidden behind that giant rock candy portrait,” Call said, motioning towards the painting. 

The portrait was made artfully with obvious precision despite the fact it was made solely from rock candy. Blue rock candy denoted the sky and different shades of white and brown candy painted the racing horses. Tamara and Aaron lifted it with ease. And lo and behold was the small metal safe hidden behind it. It was probably the most modern thing in the entire candy world.

Call smiled proudly and Jasper took the moment to lean on him familiarly. 

    “Not bad for a rookie,” he praised.

    “Yeah, don't forget it next time,” Call said.

Tamara was the first to approach the small metal vault and she peered at its keypad closely. 

    “Okay guys, there are letters on the keypad so it's safe to assume his password is a name or something he really likes. The word must also be eight letters max. We don’t know how many tries we have before it alerts someone so we won’t do it over three.”

    “Try ‘horse’,” Jasper recommended, and then after a second, “Actually try ‘pony’.”

The small vault lit up red and Tamara shook her head.

    “Try ‘ponylove’,” Call suggested, shrugging when Jasper looked at him clearly amused.

The box once again lit up red and Tamara frowned. 

    “Aaron, got any ideas?”

Aaron swept a hand through his golden locks and then smiled bravely.

    “Yeah, I think I got one. Lemme just,” The blonde moved in front of the small box and began to type. “There, I think I got it.” 

The small indicator glowed green and all three gasped. 

    “What was it?” Call asked.

Aaron laughed nervously.

    “It’s better kept a secret, trust me.”

    “It was ‘Alexlove’, wasn't it?” Tamara asked, her arms crossed. Aaron’s obviously bemused expression only confirmed it.

    “Who is Alex?” Call questioned once again, even more confused than before.

    “It’s adult talk, honey. Now let's get our reward and get out of here.” Jasper laughed, clearly enjoying the entire situation far more than he was letting on. 

Before they could even get the door of the vault open, Drew’s recently destroyed sugar door blasted open with so much force it flug across the room and hit the licorice pony painting. Half of the horse’s licorice mane fell off and Call couldn't help but regret the amount of money and candy wasted on it. Honestly it had been creepy as hell, but it was also pretty amazing.

    “You fools dare think you can steal from ME?!” The intruder yelled and Call immediately recognized him as the ‘dog-beater’ from his weird encounter within Rahab’s cave. Only he was dressed like someone from the sixteenth century renaissance. The puffy shorts and tights really didn't suit him. Call actually couldn't even stifle his laugh if he wanted to.  

    “Joseph!” Tamara gasped, before throwing open the vault door and grabbing the reward within. 

Without wasting another second, she tossed the small vial at Call and he scrambled to catch it. What could it be? A love potion? An immortality potion? Maybe something that permanently staved off diabetes? Call peered at the small label on the vial that read, ‘salt’. He almost choked.

    “We’re risking our lives for less than an ounce of SALT?!” he shouted, catching the attention of everyone within the room. He distinctly saw Joseph’s eyes darken at the mention of the mineral.

    “Aaron,” Tamara directed, “Pick him up and use route X to escape. Jasper and I are gonna hold this guy off. We will meet at the rendezvous point at twelve am sharp.”

Tamara unsheathed two gingerbread-made tonfa and nodded at Aaron. The blonde nodded back; a silent understanding passing between the two of them. Call was still pretty sure everyone in the room was actually insane considering they were fighting over table salt. 

    “Wait, how am I supposed to help you?” Jasper asked, “I should go with Aaron and Call.”

Tamara smiled prettily, wiping a strand of wavy hair from her face. 

    “You’re my moral support. I’m counting on your quick thinking to find a way out of this situation or for your witty retorts to stall him long enough for me to think of a plan.”

Call swore Jasper had never looked so happy before in all his life before that moment. 

    “Come on Call, we’ve gotta go!” Aaron called, pulling at his arm. The shorter boy distinctly saw the blonde inching towards the window.

    “Wait, you don't mean-”

    “You’ve  already told me you trust me, so I hope you don’t mind if I take a few liberties,” Aaron said, sweeping Call up bridal style and posing heroically on the window. “We’ll be waiting for you Tamara and Jasper!!”

Without wasting another moment he leapt from the window without a shred of doubt, and yelled as they descended into darkness.

    “You're insane!” Call shouted as wind and frozen powdered sugar swirled around them.

    “Yeah, but you still like me, right?!” Aaron yelled back, holding Call tightly. 

    “For some reason!” Call yelled back rather fondly.

Sure he was falling to his death in the arms of the closest thing he could call a ‘friend’ he ever had, but at least they were falling together. Wasn't there some saying about all things being better together? 

It was in an instant when Aaron’s legs landed on solid ground. Except it wasn't in a horrifying way with his tibia shooting up his thighs. It was more like he landed gracefully on some floating piece of red wood. Call wasn't sure what exactly had just happened but they weren't falling and neither of them were dead, so it all kind of just worked out in the end. 

Aaron’s perfect golden hair was tousled and covered in more flecks of powdered sugar than he could count, but he was grinning pretty wide so he figured it was all good. Somehow.

    “Holy shit.” Call said, still clinging to the other boy.

    “Y-yeah,” Aaron agreed. He faltered for a moment before collapsing backwards onto a pile of convenient cushions. 

Call quickly climbed off his lap and examined the blonde.

    “You okay?”

Aaron nodded weakly, his smile still present.

    “Yeah, just gimme a minute.”

Call hummed an affirmation and set out to examine where they had landed. Turned out the ‘floating piece of red wood’ was actually a sleigh. And it had been brought to them from no one other than Havoc, who had reindeer headband on with a festive bell on his collar. 

    “You’ve saved my life again buddy!” Call called out, and Havoc responded back with a very joyful howl. 

Call smiled gleefully and collapsed onto the cushions next to Aaron. 

    “Will Tamara and Jasper be okay?”

    “Don't worry,Tamara’s a master of the tonfa. She’ll make sure they both get out safely.”

Call  nodded in understanding and put the vial of salt up to the moonlight.

    “So why exactly would the people want this?” he asked.

    “I was actually under the impression the reward was thousands of chocolate coins. I was planning to give them all back to the people, but seeing how it's salt, I kinda don't know anymore. Why would anyone want salt?”

    “I dunno either,” Call muttered, pocketing it. 

With the soft fall of powdered snow and the warmth of Aaron against him, Call once again found himself drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

Chapter Text

Call awoke with a start. He felt chilly and extremely disoriented. The hard stone poking into his back at least let him know he had returned to reality… if one could even call Dracula’s castle such. Rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes, Call turned his attention to Aaron and Havoc. The blonde was busy setting out dishes of breakfast-related foods while Havoc sniffed around each one in a very innocent way. 

Despite it having only been a few days, the sight of Aaron awake and preparing breakfast seemed normal. It was almost like a sort of routine he and Havoc had fallen into ever since Rahab. He didn't want to admit it, but he really clung to the single bit of consistency in his life.  

 Call stretched one last time before using the edge of the statue to help him stand to his feet. He didn't notice the piece of mistletoe hidden within her clasped hand.

    “I had the weirdest dream last night,” he started, approaching the pair. 

Aaron looked up from his task and smiled.

    “Morning to you too Call.”

    “Can you actually even tell?” Call asked, and he got a shrug from the blonde in response.

    “Tamara is the only one that carries a working pocket watch in here since phones don’t work inside the castle.” he explained, “But, yeah, I had a kinda weird dream last night too.”

Call had been ready to agree and mention he had seen Tamara’s pocket watch in previous days, however, Aaron’s sudden claim made him hold his gaze for a bit longer. 

Both boys stared at each other in complete silence. Even Havoc didn't seem keen on breaking it. Neither was willing to mention any of the events their subconscious had brought them, yet the unspoken question was at the forefront of both of their minds. Aaron was the first to test the waters. 

    “Peppermint?”

Call’s face paled at the mention of the candy and he looked at Aaron completely wide-eyed.

There was no way…

    “That was really you in that dream!!? Why didn't you say anything?!”

Embarrassment and regret flooded his mind in waves. If only he had known, he would have never asked him to dance- or do anything in that matter! Did friends dance and stare into  each other’s  eyes?! Was that normal? Call chewed his lip viciously as he went over event after event in his head in an attempt to check himself.

Aaron didn't seem to share his dilemma at all, though he did look slightly taken aback.

    “You didn't say anything so I thought you didn't know anything either!!”

Completely exasperated, Call covered his face with his hands before shoving them in his pockets and falling on his bum dramatically. His leg protested the action slightly, but more importantly, his hand nudged something hidden in his pocket. Their previous conversation forgotten, Call pulled the small pouch from within his pocket and stared at it dumbly. Had he put this in his pocket?

    “What is that?” Aaron asked, obviously as confused as he was.

    “I dunno,” Call replied,  pulling the drawstring apart. Despite looking ages old, the small cloth pouch seemed to be sturdy. Almost as if it had been made to hide something important. On the top of the opened bag was a thin silken glove, which seemed pretty useless. Underneath the glove were piles of piles of a small grayish white powder. It had looked like salt, but upon closer inspection it resembled ashes more than anything. Call’s eyes narrowed sufficiently. 

    “Salt?” Aaron asked incredulously. 

    “Not salt, it looks more like ashes,” Call said. 

It seemed that the small vial of “salt” he had collected within the “dream-world” had somehow transformed into a larger sized pouch filled with ashes. Maybe the vial had been filled with ashes too, and they had simply mistaken it. Without thinking, Call scooped up a large portion of the powder in order to examine it up close, but he quickly flinched backwards and dumped it straight back into the bag. A cloud of dust rose between the two boys and Aaron looked at him oddly.

    “You okay?”

Call chuckled weakly, masking his pain.

    “Y-yeah, I just wasn't expecting the ashy-feeling.” 

Aaron smiled, completely oblivious. 

    “Well, I guess we won’t be able to season our eggs with this then,” he said, dipping his own two fingers into the pouch. Call choked on his words of warning as the blonde pinched it between his fingers unflinchingly. “I wonder why it's ashes...Ash can’t do anything special,” Aaron murmured aloud. “Well, just hold onto it, Call. Maybe we’ll find some use for it later and anyway.”

    “Yeah, I’ll hold onto it,” Call said. “So, I know that this is random but, could I ask you something a little more serious?”

    Aaron perked up at the mention of importance and he nodded his head.

“I know we need to go and kill Beelzebub but since you think my dad is the one that killed Scylla, maybe we could, uh, you know, look for him after? A little bit? And then meet up with Jasper and Tamara?”

Aaron’s eyes had widened a bit when Call had mentioned his father, and it made him realize he had never mentioned who the “someone” he was looking for actually was. Now that he thought about it though, he didn't really mind Aaron knowing since it didn't make a particularly big difference. Since his dad was obviously surely alive. 

It seemed to make a big difference to the blonde. His eyes seemed to glow with a certain light when Call asked him about it. The light reflected all the hope, trust, and positive feelings Aaron contained, yet didn't say.  They seemed to glow so intensely that Call had to avert his own gaze, lest he let himself fall into Aaron’s natural charisma. Glancing at him one last time, he decided that expression was fitting for a hero. 

    “Of course,” Aaron said, placing his hand on his shoulder, “We’ll definitely find him.”

Call nodded and offered a weak smile to show thankfulness for Aaron’s efforts. The blonde seemed to take the weak smile as worry for his dad, and while that was partially true, Call’s current dismay was over his hand. 

As soon as Aaron turned back around, Call examined the effect of the ashes on his skin carefully. It seemed to have distorted and warped his skin, leaving small bloody holes over what had used to be smooth flesh. Call couldn't help but stare in complete disgust and horror

    “Sausage?” Aaron asked, his back still turned.

    “I’m good,” Call answered, trying to swallow his own nausea. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Call ended up feeding most of his breakfast to Havoc in an effort to make Aaron believe his appetite was normal and he apparently bought it considering his lack of questioning. Havoc seemed to be pretty happy concerning the outcome too. 

It seemed like the holy ashes were actually used to kill the evil hordes that lived in Dracula's castle, not be kept by them. Aaron was the one who should have gotten the reward in the dream, not him. Though now that he had ahold of them, Call wasn't too keen on letting them go; who knew if someone might try to ash him to death. On the other hand, the “useless" glove ironically turned out to be the most useful thing he had collected from the dream. When it was worn, he could touch any holy item without taking any sort of physical damage. It was transparent too, so he could wear it constantly without arousing too many suspicions. He practically had a completely foolproof vampire disguise now. 

"You seem awfully smiley, should I be worried about something Call?" Aaron joked and Call had to quell his growing satisfaction in order to feign normalcy. 

Call had discovered all of this on their way out of the caves and while he had been doing a pretty good job of keeping up with Aaron in both speed and conversation, he seemed to have gotten a little ahead of himself.

"Worried? You should be excited...because I am," Call stopped mid sentence in order to think of an excuse, "Going to show you some sick gun moves during our fight with Beelzebub." He had thought about adding finger guns at the end but he decided it would oversell the point.

Havoc snorted and shoved Call as they walked, grabbing the attention of both boys. 

"Looks like Havoc doesn't believe you," Aaron said, smiling, "But don't worry, I do. Just make sure you look out for my cool sword moves too."

"Yeah, sure." Call responded easily, while simultaneously giving Havoc a sharp look. The wolf gazed back at him coolly. When exactly had his dog gotten so good at reading him?! Call knew his shove wasn't just disbelief about his capabilities, it was disbelief at the genuineness of his entire statement. 

Call narrowed his eyes at Havoc in menacing way in order to silence him, but instead the wolf dog puffed out a breath clearly unaffected.

"I don't wanna interrupt you guys, but we're here," Aaron said, scratching his cheek. He seemed slightly bemused.

"We're here? How? There's nothing here-oh," Call looked up. "Oh no. Uh-uh. There is no way you expect me to jump back up there."

Upwards about thirty meters from where they stood, was the ledge that they had jumped from to enter the caves in the first place. When they had first jumped in, the entrance had been masked by darkness, but gazing up at the light from the bottom revealed many things for Call. The first being that for normal humans the jump was impossible; for someone like him it was unfeasible. And being a vampire didn't  qualify him anymore. He had magic and demonic ponies okay, nothing more and nothing less. 

"It'll be super fast, I promise Call," and then he averted his shining green eyes, "Being a Belmont does have its advantages sometimes."

Call felt his own lips thin. He had done his best to avoid the word altogether, but here Aaron had gone and brought it up all by himself. Despite getting along pretty well, there were moments when the blonde just baffled him. Call wondered how many times Aaron had felt the same about him.

"Well you can go ahead and whisk me away superman, we're not getting any smarter down here." 

Aaron nodded scooping Call up in his arms bridal style. The shorter boy did his best to look anywhere but the blonde’s face, and when that failed he tried to think of as many excuses as he could for the position he was currently being carried in. Or that he had been carried in?! This entire time Aaron had been picking him up and putting him down, and only now did his conscious decide to remember that he had something remaining of his pride. He should be mortified. Even if it was literally the only way for him to physically get from the bottom of the cave to the top, he ought to make sure this stayed between the two of them. 

It only took a second before Aaron leapt upwards with practiced grace, his golden hair blowing heroically. Call clung to his neck as they rose through the air, the shock of rising sending a familiar thrill through his stomach. After they had landed, Havoc leapt in the same parallel arch and settled beside them. 

    “So, you know, I was kinda thinking that Tamara and Jasper might be jealous about this, uh, arrangement. So, we should keep it between us.” Call said. He was having trouble articulating the words and using hand motions while trying to not accidentally hit Aaron’s face because for some reason the blonde still hadn't put him down yet.

    “What arrangement?” 

Call blinked at him, waiting to see if he was going to catch on so he wouldn't have to spell it for the other boy, but when the blonde simply blinked back he realized there wasn't much more he could do. 

    “The fact that you're my personal elevator,” Call said, hoping his phrasing helped eliminate some of the awkwardness. 

Understanding illuminated Aaron’s face and he suddenly seemed to realize he had been holding Call for overlong. He put him on the floor gently and smiled bashfully. 

    “Oh right, yeah, sure I won’t say anything to them.” 

Call gave him a thumbs up.

It surprisingly didn't take them long to find the area of the castle that Beelzebub resided in. It turned out they just had to take one left instead of a right and they were in “The Necromancy Laboratory”, as Aaron called it. Because of the lack of enemies, Aaron really seemed to believe that his dad was somewhere around, but Call knew the only definite evidence was Scylla back in the caves. In the least, the lack of combat allowed Call and Havoc time to sightsee. Although it was surely cursed, there was always a sense of awe and beauty to every new area Call entered. It was almost as if the castle beckoned to him, and the Necromancy laboratories seemed to be no different. 

Unlike the previous areas, the laboratories consisted of both overly-wide rooms and absurdly tall towers. There was only a single thing that didn't change between the differing architecture: the white alabaster. The floor, stairs, and elevators were all made with the same pure looking rock and engraved with rhombuses and hexagonal shapes. Within the towers, the walls were made of thin pieces of glass overlaid with shining metals; gloaming skies shown through the panes, painting the alabaster in twilight. It looked pretty nice.

 Overall, the best thing about the laboratories, however, was the elevators. They weren't like the ones he used to ride in back at the doctor’s office with shiny metal walls and glowing buttons. These elevators had no walls, they had no buttons either, they were made only of two thin rods of metal connected to a small slab of alabaster and a large spring connecting it to some hidden mechanism within the ceiling. It was practically a giant pulley. Sure the science behind it was dated, but the ride was devilishly fun. Because pulleys operated on balance of weight, when the three of them stepped onto the single slab it rushed downwards at a speed fast enough to make them shout. 

Call looked at Aaron, a wild gleam in his eyes.

    “That was terrifyingly awesome,” Call laughed, still slightly out of breath. 

    “Yeah,” Aaron’s eyes shared the same look and his hair had settled messily around his eyes.  “I think there are a few more up ahead too.”

Both boys grinned at each other and dashed ahead, in search of their next thrill. The next elevator wasn't difficult to find, but Aaron came to a screeching halt in his running causing both Havoc and Call to skid roughly behind him. 

    “It's broken.” Aaron said, clearly deflated. 

Call walked around Havoc and peered around Aaron’s shoulder to glimpse the broken pulley. The slab of stone had mostly fallen away, leaving only a thin ledge to stand on. Looking at it, Call wasn't even sure how he was gonna take Havoc down with him.

    “I guess we could go one at a time,” Call offered, his adrenaline draining. “Just how is Havoc gonna go on this thing? The lift isn't even wide enough for him to stand on.”

Aaron looked at Havoc and the wolf peered back at him silently. 

    “I could carry him, if he doesn't mind that is,” Aaron offered. 

Havoc yapped excitedly, his tail swishing side to side.

“I mean he doesn't mind, he's just pretty heavy, I can barely lift him…" Call paused as Aaron effortlessly lifted the wolf into his arms.

"I think I've got him," he said, his face half covered by Havoc's head. 

Call nodded as Aaron put his first hesitant foot onto the stone slab. The stone seemed to crumble a bit under their combined weight and it took all of Call's will power not to shout a warning. He didn't want to scare Aaron into losing his balance, but he also didn't want them to fall to their deaths because of outdated technology. 

Aaron and Havoc disappeared into the darkness and Call only realized the pulley had come to a stop because of the silence. There had been an awful scraping metal sound when it had been in action, yet There was no sound at all now. Call couldn't even hear himself breathing.

“Aaron?!" He shouted into the silence. It took a moment, but the distant sound of Aaron's voice echoed back up to him 

"The elevator is stuck!!! "Aaron shouted back and Call glared at the outdated mechanism with as much malice as he could muster. Things always had to go wrong didn't they?

"Try to push it up, I'll pull the spring!!" 

After his instructions, Call hastily moved to pull at the spring, however, it didn't so much as creak. The thing might as well have been super glued to the floor. No matter what he did it wouldn't budge. Call heard Aaron shout something to him, but he couldn't understand.

"What?!"

This time he was only able to pick out the word "climb", but he could easily figure out what the blonde wanted him to do. Aaron wanted him to climb down the giant spring. Having already ran around so much, Call knew his leg wouldn't be able to take that much exertion. He would end up falling and breaking his neck some time before the halfway mark.

"I Can't climb!!There was a path behind us leading up, I'll take it and loop back around!" Call yelled.

"What??!"

Call sighed. This was getting inconvenient fast. 

"GO ON WITHOUT ME!" He called out, his face turning red from the exertion.

Aaron was silent for a moment and Call took it as understanding. He turned on his heel and walked back past both elevators and onto the stairwell. He had spent quite a bit of time in the castle completely alone and it had almost driven him crazy. If the elevator wasn’t going to work, he would make his way back around with his own two feet.

 Honestly, he was a bit desperate to reunite with Havoc and Aaron. The last thing he wanted was another confrontation with Joseph. The thought made him hurry up the stairs faster than he meant to and his leg cramped up in protest, stopping him mid-step. 

Call huffed, holding his leg in an attempt to quell the pain and found himself unconsciously gazing up. A long stretch of hallway was in front of him, but unlike the rest of the laboratory, this hallway didn't have a single candle to illuminate it. It was completely dark, yet somehow Call could feel a burning gaze peering at him. Someone-or thing- was hidden in the darkness and staring at him with as much intensity as they could muster.

"Show yourself!!" Call commanded, but nothing emerged. He gulped loudly.

Readying his gun, Call stood to his feet, his heart pounding noisily. An odd groan resounded from the darkness and he didn't waste a second shooting three bullets into the direction it had come from. It was dead silent after that. Yet somehow Call knew he had to go into this hall; there was no other path for him to take. Steeling himself seemed impossible, so he simply took a few deep breaths and walked forward.

The hall was shorter than he had anticipated, and soon enough the darkness gave way to a large room. Call stepped into the light and froze stock still.

The last time his feet had been glued to the floor was when he was with his father in the forest. Traveling around with Aaron, Tamara, and Jasper had taught him very quickly that standing still was the very best way to get yourself killed in the middle of combat, yet no matter how Call willed himself to move he couldn't. He was rooted by a combination of fear and shock. 

    “You’re Beelzebub,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “We have to defeat you?”

Chapter Text

Beelzebub was a giant corpse of some forgotten species. He hung from the ceiling limply with hooked chains that stabbed into his already decayed and rotted flesh. At the mention of his name, the corpse had seemed to become livid and trained his bulging blood red eyes on Call. He opened his mouth in what seemed to be an attempt to speak, however the hook that pierced the back of his neck and protruded from his ever-open mouth kept him from speaking sensibly. Instead, his attempt only served to cut through half of his upper lip sending thick clumps of black blood dripping into his opened mouth. Call narrowed his eyes, and peered closely at the clumps of blood, regretful understanding filling his mind. The “clumps'' were actually small groups of maggots oozing out of Beelzebub’s fresh wound. And now that he took a good look at the entirety of the corpse’s body, he saw maggots festering in porous holes all over his skin. 

Both the sight and smells seemed to catch up with Call and he turned and retched, expunging the little material he had even had in his stomach. After he felt he could stand again, Call tried to turn back around but when he caught sight of the giant corpse, he couldn't stop himself from gagging until his throat was raw. The putrid stink of decaying flesh was suffocatingly strong; no matter his efforts, Call couldn’t seem to expel it from his lungs. 

    “Don’t breathe in the air Call! Cover your nose and mouth!” Aaron shouted from below. 

After taking his advice by pulling his turtleneck over his nose, Call was finally able to muster up enough strength to turn back towards Beelzebub. Aaron was standing in the far left corner of the room, where Call assumed was another entrance. He looked like a small action figure from where he stood and it shook him when he realized just how high up he was. Call was standing face to face with Beelzebub whereas Aaron wasn’t even high enough to touch his rotted toes. He needed to regroup with him.

 Glancing down at the two platforms below him didn't seem to offer any way down and for whatever reason,  there were no stairs connecting the highest platforms to the ones below him. They were just floating slabs of stones. Boy would he have given his physics teacher a run for his money if he had gotten a picture of this.

    “Watch out!” 

Call rolled roughly out of the way after Aaron’s exclamation and then frantically looked around to identify what exactly he had just been warned about. A large fly buzzed past him nonchalantly,  as if it hadn't seen him standing there. No, large was an understatement, the fly had been bigger than him and just like Beelzebub, it had been its own brand of terrifying. Other than its size amplifying all of the normally disgusting factors that came with being a fly, this insect seemed to have especially unique revolting features Call was pretty sure normal flies didn't have. For instance he was pretty sure flies didn't have swelling red pustule abdomens covered in sharp hair. Or maybe that fly just happened to be pregnant. Honestly the less he knew the better.

"How are we supposed to kill him?!" Call shouted, and while he couldn't truly see Aaron's body language from the distance they were at, he liked to think that the blonde had just shrugged.

“Uh, just focus on shooting his head and heart… I'm gonna work on cutting off his legs," Aaron replied, his voice muffled. He had somehow wrapped his oversized collar around his face to block out the smell, but it seemed like neither of their thin makeshift masks were doing too much good. The only thing that would stop the smell was getting as far away from Beelzebub as possible. 

At his instruction, Call stood and shouted an affirmation before readying his gun to shoot. His earlier roll had sent him very close to the platform's edge and even closer to Beelzebub's face. They were staring straight at each other.

 He had no pupils, Call realized, only bloated red sclera peered back at him. They were filled with so much malice and hate it was petrifying. His eyes also seemed to look similar to a  fly’s which was kind of ironic considering they were literally living off his flesh. Or maybe it was pitiful, but he wasn’t about to start feeling for a- for a monster . Tearing his eyes from his horrendous face, Call let his eyes venture down the corpse's body to find the "heart" Aaron had mentioned. 

Surprisingly, a seemingly healthy pink heart beat within his open ribcage, pulsing almost simultaneously to Call's own heart. A mass of greasy maggots squirmed around it, resembling small gobbets of spoiled cottage cheese. He immediately retracted his previous statement and swore to never use “healthy” and “Beelzebub” in the same sentence ever again.

Swallowing his vomit, he sent his well-wishes to Aasron who had to currently dodge the oncoming projectiles of doom, and finally aimed his gun towards the beating heart.  After perfecting his aim and shooting at the pulsing muscle a few times, it dawned on him. His bullets weren’t doing anything. Beelzebub's heart had seemed to stutter in its beats with the first bullet, but after multiple rounds of firing it did little more than splurt a few drops of inky black blood. He might as well have been tossing super charged toothpicks at him.

Looking down below, Call was able to see that Aaron wasn’t faring much better. His sword, while deathly sharp, required him to leap in a perfect arc each time so he could even reach his knee. Really though, why did Aaron even need to cut off his legs? It wasn't like Beelzebub was going to walk off somewhere. He was quite literally hooked to the place he was at.   

    “Hey Aaron, you should come up and try to destroy the hea-” 

Call stopped mid-shout as he sensed something behind him. He didn't know where the intuition came from, but he knew he needed to move backwards, or away, something; unless he wanted to get turned into fly food. It looked to be the same pregnant fly who had tried to catapult itself into him earlier, but Call didn't really have the time to personalize his situation.  Glancing backwards reminded him he was still on the edge of the platform. He couldn't  jump over the fly, which meant  he had nowhere else to go but backwards. He had to jump off a cliff, knowing it might kill him. Great.

As soon as he saw the man-eating fly at its closest he knew he couldn't delay any longer, he took a step backwards and his breath hitched as his foot landed on nothing. Call squeezed his eyes shut to brace himself in some sort of way, however he quickly found that he wasn't falling at all. In fact, it seemed that time had slowed to the very millisecond and every breath he took was shortened to the length of a single heartbeat. The fly was still coming toward him, yet when it should have come in contact with his physical body, it passed right through him, almost as if it were flying through nothing at all. Call gasped as he saw a shadow of himself, inches away where he had previously stood, glowing red with his power. The image only lasted for a second before wind blew past him and merciless time resumed once again, reminding him that both his feet were still off of the ledge.

    “Shit!” he cried, as his opportunity  to reclaim his footing was lost. 

He didn't know what exactly had just happened with his magic, but he was pretty sure he had somehow magically evaded that fly’s attack by somehow creating a magic shadow double. It couldn't have been a soul since they hadn't killed anything recently, but maybe it was just a natural skill all vampires had. He had been so shocked at the moment he had lost his chance to jump back onto the ledge and now he was falling again. Call’s mind whirled as he attempted to come up with a solution to his own stupid lack of coordiantion. He could summon a Night Mare to break his fall, but that would alert Aaron to his magic… Unless Aaron had already seen him accidentally use his dark magic up on the top platform. Suddenly falling to his death didn't seem like the biggest problem he had at hand; he might have just exposed his vampiric nature to Aaron !

Before he had a chance to contemplate any further, Call fell onto something with enough force to send pain rippling through his entire body. Everything was silent for a moment as pain overtook his senses, numbing every other sensation around him to a dull buzz. He faintly heard Aaron shouting something and then everything came crashing back into focus. He hadn't hit the ground like he had originally thought, he had fallen straight onto one of Beelzebub’s chains and was currently flailing around like a fish out of water. Despite being so long, the chains that held him were surprisingly thin, so much so that he was having trouble clutching onto it and not falling another eighty feet.

At least one good thing was confirmed though: if Aaron had called out to him, that meant he still liked him, generally at least. In the least it meant he couldn't have seen his magic up there. Call was still in the clear.

    “I’m good Aaron!” Call called back. He wasn't exactly sure about what exactly he had said before, but looking at him now made him think the blonde should really be worrying about his own situation more than his. 

Aaron was beset on all sides. Large maggots covered the floor ahead and behind him, while flies scoured the air in odd formations cutting off any upward escape route. Somehow  the blonde had managed to cut off one of Beelzebub's legs, yet it hadn't seemed to achieve anything more than angering the flies even further. Aaron looked around hopelessly as he slashed at both flies and maggots in some last attempt to try and gain some ground. Call knew he had to help him.

He inched forward on the chain, careful not to accidentally flip himself. He was dealing with enough nausea with just the smell, he didn't need anything else. Once he had managed to get as close to Beelzebub's body as possible, Call stopped moving and peered back down at Aaron. The blonde had been pushed farther backwards now; he was so  consumed by the swarm of flies and maggots, Call could barely  even catch a glimpse of him. They had practically formed a wall around him.

He needed to do something and fast. He had been wasting this entire battle away dawdling, while Aaron had been holding off enemy after enemy, trying to do his best to do something . He couldn't use his gun- but of course! Call wanted to slap himself, but instead opted to reach into his pocket with his gloved hand. He had holy ashes!

Call didn't waste a moment, tossing a generous handful of the white ashes at the swarm of insects that hovered  toward Aaron. Although they didn't give way, the wings of  many of the flies caught fire and sizzled away, leaving their fat bloated bodies to fall onto the ground. He supposed this was the best chance Aaron was going to get.

    “This is your chance Aaron!” he shouted while still tossing ashes down. More flies fell, but it seemed like ten stronger and more able flies took the place of every single fly Call took down. It was like they were endless.

As if on cue, the blonde stood up and sheathed his sword, instead opting for something more suited. He pulled a coiled silver chain out from his belt and cracked it, sending more of the incessant insects out of the way. At the sight of the new whip Call felt his heart skip a beat, but he quickly realised it wasn't the same as Vampire Killer. This whip, while definitely holy, didn't scare him half as much. 

Aaron struck with the whip again and this was successfully able to make a boy-sized hole within their impenetrable formation. The whip gleamed brightly every time Aaron wielded it, almost making it look like it was flickering with starlight. The bugs seemed to hate the flashy display, which worked perfectly to Aaron’s advantage; he slipped through easily  and dashed directly under Call.

    “I’m coming up!” he called, and Call nodded, unsure of how exactly the blonde planned to do that.

Aaron lassoed the sparkling whip for a moment before swinging it directly in front of Call’s face. The shining silver wrapped around the chain naturally and Aaron pulled it in order to test its strength.

    “I hope this holds me,” he muttered under his breath. 

 Aaron blew on his hands and glanced nervously behind him, checking to see if he had enough room for a mini runway. After making a bit of distance between himself and the lowest chain, he ran forward and leaped, latching onto it like he was simply jumping across monkey bars. His body swung back and forth loosely, and Call couldn’t help but swallow thickly. Aaron’s body resembled a shaking leaf, only if he fell, it wouldn't be serenely into some picturesque pond. If Aaron fell, it would be into the sea of wingless bloodthirsty flies and there would be nothing he could to save him. 

Aaron strained to pull himself onto the chain standing and when he finally did Call released a breath he didn't know he was holding. The blonde was barely balancing atop the thin iron links, but he didn't look as sure of himself anymore. Aaron looked nervous. And the growing pile of flies down below didn't seem to be helping. 

A demonic fly whizzed past him, causing the blonde to flail his arms desperately, but Call could tell from above that he was going to fall… That was if he didn't jump.

    “Just jump! You can do it!!” he cried, anxiety overtaking his voice. Call wasn’t usually one to encourage, but  this situation was killing him. If Aaron didn't jump in the next five seconds, he swore he would have a heart attack. 

Aaron did jump, his form was nowhere near as straight or precise as it had been during his first leap, but he was at least able to grab onto the dangling handle of his whip. He was safe and Call was ready to finally give his pounding heart a break, yet fate always seemed to be against him. Aaron’s whip uncoiled rapidly. He didn't even have time to  think twice before grabbing the starlit whip with both his hands and hoping the chain would support their combined weights. The silver burned his ungloved hand, but it really wasn't a big price. He just wished his screaming nerves would have understood that and stopped their reminder. 

It didn't take long for Aaron to pull himself onto the narrow chain.  His face looked red from exertion and sweat matted his hair. Call wasn’t sure if it was the lighting or not, but Aaron also looked sort of green, almost like he felt just as sick as Call felt. 

    “Thanks,” the blonde breathed out, “You saved my life again.”

    “Don’t thank me yet,” Call said motioning to something behind Aaron with his eyes. 

The blonde glanced over his shoulder and stared for a moment. The flies were forming another wall, only this time they seemed even more determined to actually get them this time.

After staring for a moment, both boys knew they couldn’t take all of the flies down, their numbers were infinite. What they did need was a shield. Something to cover them in at least one direction so they weren’t open to attack on all sides. Call and Aaron shared a look.

    “Oh God, please tell me there's another way,” Call started. And Aaron shook his head.

    “We’re so close, Call, all we have to do is get a few moments to work away at his heart and then he’ll be dead and we can finally breathe fresh air again.”

As much as he detested the idea, there wasn’t much of another choice. The blonde, who already seemed to be a little weary, had already tried a frontal assault and narrowly escaped with his life. Climbing into his open chest and using Beelzebub’s rotted flesh as a shelter was their best chance. In that way Aaron wouldn’t have to jump either, they would literally be directly in front of his heart. And the flies wouldn’t dare tear apart their own home. 

The longer Call thought about it, the more benefits there seemed to be but as they climbed from the chain onto one his rib-bones and then onto a sickly green piece of flesh, each benefit fell away to nothingness. The stench that permeated the air was all consuming. Walking on his skin made a disgusting squelching sound, dyeing the already tarnished soles of his converse a greenish-blackish sort of colour. But it was really the smell that made the experience dreadful. It made his throat burn as if it was coated with the weird juice that covered his shoes. It took all of his effort to not gag. Aaron looked even worse than himself, and that was saying a lot. His pale skin seemed to have taken on a sickly sort of green colour, and his eyes seemed red and watery.

 It was like Beelzebub knew they were taking a turn for the worse and decided to be as unhelpful as possible. He groaned loudly, his body swaying almost as if he was doing his best to shake them off. It also might have been the wall of flies pushing against his body from the outside, but who was Call kidding? They were still flies there was no way they were that smart. 

Aaron fell back onto the lining of Beelzebub’s stomach and Call clung onto a hanging pair of entrails. It wasn’t until Beelzebub’s body came to stop did he realize they were warm and sticky. They pulsed slightly underneath Call’s hand and he couldn’t have been more grateful to let it go. Aaron also began to recover once Beelzebub finished moving. The blonde peeled himself off the wall, a moist yellow sort of mucus clinging to the back of his clothes; Call didn’t want to say anything, but he was pretty sure that "mucus" was the remains of squashed fly eggs.  

"Enough of this! We're ending this now!" Aaron pulled two cards from the inside of his vest. Call frowned deeply. There was something very wrong about those cards… "Call, it's gonna look like there's a lot of burning fire, but they're all holy flames. It won't burn me and you, it'll only burn Beelzebub, so don't freak out."

Aaron didn't wait for him to confirm before he began chanting. Call couldn't understand most of what he said but he thought he caught the words, "mercury" and "salamander". It didn't even matter that Call couldn’t understand him; the blonde’s words held an otherworldly sort of power. His words weren’t so much as a chant as they were a sacred prayer to bless his whip with the power of flame. 

Call took a step backward, completely repulsed. Aaron shouldn’t have those cards, he shouldn’t be praying . He should be… Call paused in thought as he watched the starlit-whip erupt with flame. Those weren’t his thoughts nor were they his feelings. 

Orange and gold flames reflected off the green of Aaron’s eyes, consuming everything around him in a fiery haze of sanctified flame. Call thought for a moment about just standing there and letting himself be. Maybe if he believed hard enough, he wouldn’t burn, he would end up just fine like Aaron had said. His moment of indecision evaporated as soon as a gust of heat blew past him. 

He leapt from Beelzebub’s body and onto the middle platform. It was farther than he should have been able to jump, but he was used to his body being able to do impossible things now. The real shock came with his landing. After rolling a few times, he finally came to a stop with his face turned toward the burning corpse. An undeniable sense of sorrow echoed from the bottom most pit of his soul. It was  the feeling he had tried to squash earlier, and yet here it was reverberating like a discordant vibration. He felt bad for Beelzebub’s death and he had no idea why.

Chapter Text

It was dark behind his shut eyelids. Darker than it should have been. Call watched as shadowy wisps danced across the darkness, swirling together to create forms. It took him a moment to understand the shapes formed a shadowy silhouette. Call blinked and the silhouette in front of him was suddenly coloured. The black walls had been replaced too, by a place far too familiar to him: The highest platform in front of Beelzebub’s face. Only, he was watching from the sidelines. It was someone else standing directly in front of the chained corpse… But this wasn't the Beelzebub Call had seen either, it was a completely different entity. He was most definitely a giant, but he wasn’t rotted; he was beautiful. The giant had flowing locks of warm coloured hair cascading down his back and eyes that shimmered like glowing stars, carrying every colour Call could imagine. He was still chained to the ceiling just as Beelzebub had been, yet his body was strong and he pulled against his bonds causing the entire room to crumble.

    “You’ve done this to yourself.” a rich voice said. 

Call tore his attention from the giant and looked at the man who had spoken. He was slender and tall with silver blonde hair that fell over his eyes. His posture appeared to be relaxed, at ease even, but his fists were clenched tightly making his pale skin look practically translucent.

    “If you had allied yourself with me, this never would have happened. You see, it wasn’t difficult to obey me Ba’al . If you had listened, it might not have cost you anything at all.”

The giant- Ba’al stopped his thrashing and looked at the frail man, his kaleidoscopic eyes flaming. 

“Yet you were no different then the very God that abandoned me… And now you will suffer for it, just as I have suffered,” the man said, his voice trembling ever so slightly.

.

It took Call a moment to realize the silver-haired man was crying. A tear streamed down his chin and splattered against the stone noisy in the suddenly silent room. 

    “I curse you Ba’al God of the heavens, from this day forward, the people you call “comrades” will see you and resent you. They will slaughter you generation after generation, thinking they are completing some good deed, but really they will be slaughtering the very deity that summoned them to power…” The silver haired man covered his face with his hand, a cruel smirk stretching across his face, “No longer will you be called God of the Heavens… No, now you will be called “Ba’al Zebub”, lord of the flies. And you will be cursed to hang here for eternity, even when your blood runs dry the flies will still fester within your flesh and you will never forget who you wronged.” 

The man removed his hand from his face, and smiled roguishly. His fangs hung just barely over his colourless lips and Call began to get the feeling he knew who exactly he was watching.

"All of my enemies will tremble when they realize I've taken down a God. No one will dare approach me," He spun on his heeled boots and waved his hand nonchalantly, "Well, go ahead and have at him."

Call watched in horror as millions of maggots crawled up the length of Ba'al's body and began to burrow their tiny bodies into his godly flesh. The giant raised his head and roared painfully. The sound was so shrill it rang in Call's ears long after it had finished.

"You don't wish to stay and watch? This is the most exciting part," A very familiar voice asked, and a younger looking Joseph entered the dream, looking much less intense but just as crazy. "My maggots would be honored if their Lord dare set eyes on them."

The silver-haired man grabbed Joseph by the neck, his eyes flashing crimson.

"I would never take part in such an act!" And then after his flash of anger seemed to cool, he flashed his gaze towards Call, their eyes met. No longer red, his eyes glowed a striking silver hue. "My eyes were never meant to see such a thing."

Darkness overcame his vision once again at the man’s command, only this time Call was rather thankful for it. He had seen enough, thank you very much. He could already feel himself waking from the nightmarish trance, but he kept his eyes shut to try and make sense of it all. 

He had dreamt of the past Dracula. He was sure of it. But why was he, Callum Hunt, dreaming about this guy of all people? Maybe all vampires dreamt of him, but to really know he would have to ask Drew or Joseph. He really wasn’t keen on seeing either of them again although he knew he would eventually have to. For now, he could at least find solace in the complete darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Alistair took a step forward and found himself surrounded by the smell of aged paper and melting wax. It seemed after his long trek around the castle, he had finally found himself at the Long Library. Thousands of ancient tomes lined the marble walls, awaiting some scholar to pore over their pages and discover all of the hidden secrets within. Flickering candle light illuminated the area, casting eerie shadows across the walls and the whisper of hushed footsteps could be heard throughout the library, despite the fact he was the only occupant with feet that could make such sounds. Alistair took a moment to bathe in the familiarity of it all. Unlike the other rooms of the castle, the library seemed to be an exact replica of the one he remembered. 

He took one more step forward and felt a small smile tug on his lips as the familiar ring of harpsichord rang out across the room. A Dullahan sat, its fingers dancing over the black keys even though it had no eyes to read the sheet-music, nor did it have ears to listen to it. So why did it play? Alistair had asked Constantine that very question when the blonde had first taken him to this room, he had wondered why violent things such as monsters decided to take part in something as mundane as playing music. No matter how much fear, remorse, or hate he had held for the previous Dracula could make him forget his response. 

    “They may seem like just monsters to you Alistair, but I’ve pulled each one out of Hell knowing their crimes. Yes, they’ve been cursed, yes they've been denied by their very maker, but does that really deny them the right to a second chance? I don’t think it does.” 

    “So they play because they have a second chance at life? That wasn’t really the answer I was looking for, Constantine.” Alistair had said, and Constantine had laughed then. He laughed carefreely, throwing his head back and letting his silver hair fall to disarray. It was almost as if his brother hadn’t died months before, as if Alistair was the only other person in the world. 

    “What I meant, Alistair , is that the “monsters” are just like us. They fight when they need to, and enjoy the time they have freely. The Dullahans enjoy playing music, and the Skeletons enjoy preparing food and drink. I could go on and on about all the different hobbies of my subjects, but really, I think my point is made.” Constantine looked away then, his silver eyes growing distant. “There is only one real monster out there, and he doesn’t reside in this castle.”

Alistair had stared at him then. There wasn't another person he had ever felt closer to than Constantine, yet at the same time there wasn't another person he could feel farther away from than him either. 

Thinking back on the conversation, he really should have been able to see the start to Constantine’s madness, but he had been completely blinded until it was far too late to change anything. All he was left to do was think back on his many mistakes and the million different ways they could have played out. 

 After walking further in, he collapsed onto a worn armchair pulled directly opposite of a table covered with a myriad of scrolls, parchment, and unshelved books. If he was lucky, he would find some lead to Joseph’s plans within the pile of miscellaneous items. If he was unlucky...he would find a child's drawing of what looked to be a colourful horse drawn completely with crayon and adorned with what looked like cheeto-encrusted fingerprints.. Alistair stared at the oddly specific drawing, trying to understand whatever hidden meaning was locked within, but he couldn't decipher anything from it. It  looked like something Call would have brought home in fifth grade.

He shook his head, tiredly and turned his attention to more important texts. The top layer of books were spell books, old ones that looked as if they hadn't been pulled from their respective shelves in decades, if ever. Alistair flipped through it leisurely and paused as he came upon a hastily bookmarked page, his eyes scrolling through the inky letters in search of anything of importance. His glasses had been shattered a long while ago, and now trying to read without them was proving a rather difficult task. Maybe he could find a magnifying glass.

“Hey! Who are you?!” an annoyingly squeaky voice asked, and Alistair took a moment to realize he was being spoken to. 

A short boy, that looked to be about Call’s age, had appeared and sat fuming just across the table from him. He really wasn't sure why the boy was so indignant, but who knew, maybe his day was going just as bad as Alistair’s. Though, he now knew who to credit the drawing to. 

    “You must be Joseph’s son.” He replied, before casting his gaze back down to the book. It was easy for him to determine that fact because he was practically looking at a younger softer version of the man himself. The biggest difference between the two were their eyes. Joseph’s eyes seemed soulless, like he had seen all there was in the world and now he was just about ready to eradicate the entire thing. The kid, well, he seemed lively enough.

The boy looked shocked for a moment before a proud smile stretched across his young face, “It seems my reputation exceeds me.” and then it fell off his face as he realized Alistair’s attention was no longer on him. “Seeing as you know about my overall awesomeness, I think you shoul-”

“Your reputation precedes you,” the older man corrected and then he swiped a hand over his eyes to clear his blurring vision. Reading without his glasses left the words as undecipherable as egyptian hieroglyphics. If he stared long enough, the scribbles would turn to words, but he barely had the attention span for that at the moment. On the other hand he had a much better chance at getting information off the kid in front of him instead. For some reason, the idea exhausted him ten times more than walking around the whole castle for the past week without stopping or resting whatsoever. He was probably going a little crazy. 

“Ugh! Whatever! Just get out of here you weird sleazy ghost man, that is my seat! Look on the back of the chair!” and Alistair did look. A piece of paper hung on the back of the seat, it read what he assumed to be the boy’s name, “Drew”. It was written in the same bright coloured crayons as the pony. His penmanship was nearly undecipherable, but luckily he had no problem reading it thanks to his experience as a father.

“Hi, Drew I’m-”

“It’s Lord Drew!” the boy exclaimed, angrily marching towards him. “Now if you don’t move right now, I swear I’m gonna disperse your soul and it’ll take years before you can form again and it’ll be even longer before you think you can sit in my chair again!!”

Alistair made quite the show of scooting backwards, almost in the same manner someone who was leaving the chair would take, and then spent a ridiculous amount of time crossing  his legs and shifting to the side. Drew’s face reddened as he mistook Alistair’s action for smugness, but it only took a moment for his real intentions to show through and the boy’s face paled considerably. He had taken his time adjusting his position so he could show off the weapon on his hip: Vampire Killer. 

    “I thought you were- But how did you-  I thought people couldn’t-” Drew visibly panicked, spluttering a multitude of questions Alistair couldn't hope to keep up with. He stuttered a few moments more before deciding on the most important question. “Are you gonna kill me?”

Alistair looked at his face and noticed how scared the boy seemed just after having seen Vampire Killer. Since he wasn't a Belmont, Alistair couldn’t actually use the fated whip, but just having it on him seemed to silence him. 

“Mmmh, not sure,” Alistair said, observing the boy carefully. Drew paled even more at his vague response. His hands shook at his sides and he looked as if he desperately wanted to run away, yet he stood stock still awaiting the older man’s move. Alistair genuinely wondered why he didn't run away. 

“My dad has a lot of money- a- actually, I have magic artifacts too, you could have them. O- or I know some people, they could get you stuff- like stuff you want!” the boy explained. His previous confident air had completely fallen away, leaving him as the vulnerable kid Alistair had expected. It was sad really.

“I’m not interested in any of that.” 

“So then what do you want from me?” he asked 

Alistair shrugged and replied coolly, “Lets talk.”

Drew didn't seem to like his answer too much, and the two stared at each other silently. Alistair had to remember to not scare the boy too much. His only intention was getting the information he needed so he had ought to open the conversation somewhat delicately. 

    “You do know your father is planning to kill you, don’t you?”

Sarah would have hit him for opening with something like that. Constantine probably would have laughed. Drew looked completely horrified for a second, but he quickly hid his emotions with an angry grimace. Alistair had only heard bits and pieces of Joseph’s plans when he had been stuck in prison; he had hoped he had heard wrong when this certain detail had slipped, yet Drew’s expression only confirmed it. 

    “I know what my own dad is planning! I’m not stupid!” Drew exclaimed, suddenly angry again. It was the last confirmation Alistair needed before he pushed forward with his original line of thought. 

    “And you’re okay with that? You’re okay with dying? Because you really didn't seem that okay with it a few seconds ago.” 

Drew’s bottom lip wobbled dangerously and his brows furrowed, but his gaze never wavered. He glared at Alistair with as much hate as he could muster.

    “Why don’t you just kill me and then we’ll both find out! You’ll get what you want, and I’ll-” Drew’s voice cracked and he snapped his mouth shut completely mortified. Alistair knew his silence didn't stem from embarrassment.

    “I don’t want to kill you. In fact, I haven’t even thought about it once. I asked you all those questions to gauge your feelings.” Drew’s lips turned to a thin grim line but he said nothing so Alistair continued on. “I’ve met a lot of different sorts of people, both good and bad, but out of them all the one that stood out to me the most was Constantine.”

Drew gasped right in time which couldn't help but remind Alistair that he really was dealing with a child. He barely needed any forethought to come up with statements that impressed the boy. 

    “No matter what came up against him, he was always able to somehow make it through. When he was told to abandon his research about vampires or die, he refused both and instead made his own path. He might have been crazy, but the guy never failed to carry out what he wanted done… Even up to his death.” Alistair cleared his throat, swallowing back some of the memories he hadn't meant to resurface. “I bring all of that up to ask you this: What will you do now? Unlike Connie, you don’t have to find your path alone. If you're willing to try and live, then I’ll be here to help you through it but I’ll need you to help me out too, and tell me what exactly Joseph is planning.” 

For the first time since he had met him, Drew’s face seemed, not as downcast- dare he say -hopeful. It flickered away as a thought seemed to cross his mind.

    “I can’t be saved, I’m already a vampire.”

Alistair motioned for the boy to come stand next to him and Drew stared at him like he was crazy. When he motioned again, the boy hesitantly took a few steps  before he reached his side.

    “Read this spell out loud,” The older man directed, pointing to a certain line on the bookmarked page of the book. 

    Drew peered over his shoulder. “Sanctuary: An advanced spell that cures status abnormalities for all within range, including vampirism,” the boy stared at Alistair’s face for a moment, completely ecstatic, “I can be saved!” and then he seemed to remember who he had been talking to and he scurried backwards quickly, a suspicious look crossing his face. “Why’re you even helping me?” 

    “A long time ago I was supposed to tell another vampire something like this, but I was too late… In the end I lost him so here I am trying not to make the same mistake.” 

    “Who are you ?” he asked once again. Then without waiting for his response he followed up with another question quickly, “Wait- are you- are you God??”

Alistair would have choked if he hadn't been able to quickly recover with a dry chuckle. The things kids said sometimes.

    “No, I’m nothing more than a miserable pile of secrets…”

Chapter Text

Call had woken from his dream relatively unscathed. He was stinky, scorched, bruised, and terribly unsettled, but hey, he wasn't dead or bleeding out so at least there was that.  Aaron didn't seem to be doing much better than him, but he seemed to override his exhaustion with sheer willpower to complete their journey and make it all the way back to the Pinnacle. Call felt too tired to push the other boy,  so instead of resting, like he was sure both of them really wanted to do, they headed off.

Sometime along the way, he  had suspected Aaron would question him about why exactly he had run away during the Beelzebub fight. If the blonde was feeling especially prickly, he might have even thought to ask why Call had barely done anything during the entire duration of the battle, but Aaron didn't mention watching him dash away when he had  summoned his magic flaming cards, he didn't ask how Call's body had ended up so far away when he woke him either. He didn't ask anything except "are you okay?" and "do you need any help?". He acted like everything was completely normal, despite the fact Call was pretty sure they both felt like they were walking on shells. To top it off, the blonde seemed hellbent on chatting about the most mundane and - surprisingly relatable - stuff. Which made him think otherwise about his suspicions, afterall Aaron seemed genuinely interested in him. Who else laughed at his puns and then actually punned back?  Call would be lying to himself if he said he didn't enjoy their banter a little bit. It kept him out of his own head, and that was a blessing all by itself… He knew his enjoyment couldn’t last forever though, after all, he had some very serious things to consider before they regrouped with Tamara and Jasper. 

Just a little over a week ago, Tamara had said that they only had a week or so before they needed to beat Drew and escape the castle. What she graciously forgot to mention was Joseph. In Call’s opinion, he was the real mastermind behind everything - that was excluding Ecclesia since everyone seemed so loyal to it. If it wasn’t for Joseph, neither Call, nor his father would be in the castle at all. Which led him back to his original fear: What if they had been brought here for a reason? Alistair himself was familiar with the castle somehow, it would be way too far of a stretch to say that Joseph had chosen them randomly to show up at the castle. The connection had to be Alistair. He hadn’t been pulled into the castle because of himself, it all had to do with his dad. The only riddle left to solve was finding the man and getting the fine print of the situation. All he needed was a chance to talk to Joseph one-on-one.  If the “justice league” got to him  before he had a chance for inquiry, he would never figure out anything about why they had been captured, or where his father was...he would never have a chance to figure out anything!

Call's tornado of thoughts came to an abrupt stop as he felt something slippery and evil pervade his mind. It was illusive; it was foreign and no matter how much he tried to erase it, it's presence seemed to get closer and closer to his conscious mind. 

    “Callum,” the voice whispered, and Call froze as crippling fear washed over him.

Aaron paused midway in his speech about Street Fighter and looked at Call oddly, “Why’d you stop? Everything okay?” 

“Keep walking boy! Unless, you want that Belmont to steal the only chance you have to save your father ,” the voice commanded, and Call obeyed reluctantly.

“Yeah, sorry,” Call lied, trying to keep his voice even, “I just had some indigestion.”

Aaron looked at him with a raised brow. He seemed to have picked up the habit from Tamara. 

    “Okay, I believe you,” he said disbelievingly. After a moment, his gaze turned more sympathetic and he sighed wearily, “We’ll be there soon and then we’ll be able to rest up. Just a little bit longer Call.” 

Call nodded and gave Aaron the closest thing to a smile he could manage. After the blonde looked somewhat placated by his actions, he turned his focus back to the terrifying voice in his head. He turned his attention back to the horrifying arrival in his mind: Joseph.

    “H-How did you-?! No wait- just- just get out of my head!!” Call thought angrily. 

How long had Joseph had this ability? How long had he been able to infiltrate his very mind? Forget Jasper being the traitor, he had practically been giving Joseph front row seats to watch all of their plans.

    “Quiet down now, Callum, you cannot betray someone you never trusted...” Joseph said. He spoke as if he was a father scolding his child and it absolutely drove him insane. Why was he telling this to Call of all people? Shouldn't he be giving his advice to Drew? “And, on a more important note, I do have something to discuss with you concerning dear dear Alistair…”

Call desperately tried to swallow his frustration, but he couldn't control his rising anger. Joseph had been playing with them the entire time he had been here. Even if he were to tell Call about Alistair’s whereabouts it was either a trap or a flat out lie. There was zero reason to listen to him… and yet at the same time, while all of that happened to be true, it was also the only inkling he had to ever seeing his dad again. Joseph was his only hope. 

Raspy laughter echoed in his mind, and Joseph spoke once again, clearly glad to once again have the upper hand. “ I am glad we have come to terms, boy. But, I can only say this once because I do not have the strength to influence your mind for overlong… In the next six hours, there will be a time when your friends need you most. At the most crucial moment, you must abandon them and only then will the castle lead to your father."

"But,thats-wait-!" Call grasped at the inky tendrils leaving his mind, but they were gone. Funny how he was so quick to try and dismiss Joseph, yet in the end he was calling for him to stay.

He slapped the offensive thought away, and focused on trying to put the new alarming pieces of information together. 

Something was going to happen to them. Something terrible and unimaginable was going to befall Aaron, Tamara, and Jasper and he was expected to turn his back on them so he even had a chance of saving his dad. Joseph was giving him a choice. Save his dad who might not even be alive, or save Aaron and Co.- who were all definitely alive and were working to destroy the castle and all of its evil - so an event such as this would occur to no other.

Call glanced longingly at Aaron's profile, as if staring long enough would give him the right answer. His eyes were drooping and he blinked rapidly, almost as if he was falling asleep as he walked. Call had been with Aaron long enough to realize that his behaviour wasn't exactly typical. Sure he would get tired sometimes, but never so completely exhausted that he tried to nap while walking. Even after he had lost so much blood following the Rahab battle Aaron had somehow managed to exude a lively aura. Now he seemed like a drained shell of what he used to be.

It had to have been the cards. When Call had used his magic, it sucked the life out of him too. But this was the most inopportune time for Aaron to feel tired and weak. They were nearing the end of their journey, and sure, defeating Drew wasn't going to take a lot, but now they had something new to deal with. Joseph was apparently plotting to throw them all into some awful life and death situation. Maybe if Aaron had been raring to go like before, Call might have trusted him with taking care of Joseph’s ambush, but he was currently in no such state. Honestly neither of them were.

The choice was his. Within the next six hours, it was up to him to decide the fate of four different people and somehow try to manage to survive himself. His head felt like it was about to explode. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They made it into the Pinnacle without any serious disasters, but their luck didn't last for long. After chastely greeting Tamara and Jasper, Aaron slumped against the wall, and then proceeded to pass out. Tamara didn't even stop to acknowledge Call as she rushed past him to get back to Aaron’s side. It was only a second before she had placed the blonde’s head gently on her lap and began to examine him delicately, like he was a porcelain doll she didn't want to break. She placed her fingers on the underside of his wrist and cursed.

    “This idiot must have used his DSS cards! What was he thinking?!”

Call shuffled forward gingerly, his palms damp with nervous sweat. He knew she hadn't been directly asking him the question, but for some reason he couldn’t shake the feeling that Aaron’s current state was his fault. He wasn’t a hero like any of these guys, he wasn’t a fighter; he was just a kid who was way in over his head. After defeating Rahab, he had felt invincible, undefeatable; he had felt like he was on top of the world. Then he had gone into the Beelzebub battle with the same big-headed mentality and ended up weakening Aaron to the point that he collapsed less than twenty-four hours before the final battle. And that wasn’t even taking his own selfishness into account concerning Joseph and his father. Now he was even willing to think about sacrificing all of them just for his dad. Yes, he was selfish and awful, but could he really be blamed for wanting something like that?

    “I didn’t realize-” Call started, but he was quick to bite off his excuse; It was worthless to her anyway. “Will Aaron be okay?”

    “I hope he’ll wake up in a few hours.” she said curtly.

The comment itself wasn’t bad, but the undertones it carried only reiterated Call’s previous feelings: resentful and blaming. Even though she had spoken to him, she didn't dare look at his face and Call knew why. She was just barely able to control the tone of her voice, but if she looked at him, he knew she wouldn't be able to hide the obvious distaste for him in her gaze. She was probably regretting sending a cripple of all people with Aaron. If only she had sent someone stronger, and smarter. Maybe just someone better in general.

 It didn't take long for Call to have to forcefully tear his gaze from them. For some reason, he couldn't bear to look at either of them for any longer. In his avoidance, Call caught Jasper’s gaze, but the Asian boy was quick to look away. For a moment, Call suspected Jasper was mad at him too, but his confusion was brief as realization hit him. Jasper hadn’t been looking at him,  he had been looking at Aaron and Tamara. His gaze had been so bitter, yet there was underlying sadness there too, like he was wishing for something that wasn’t ever there in the first place. It made Call wonder for just a split second- if maybe, just maybe, Jasper and him weren’t so different after all. The thought flickered away as soon as it came. Jasper was a human. 

Call slumped down against the cobblestone wall a good distance from the rest of the group, his energy dissipating just as quickly as his will to do anything aside from mope. He was ravenous from having skipped ‘breakfast’, but he didn't want to bother Tamara or Jasper by asking for something. They probably didn't want to be distrubed by him either. When Havoc pattered away from Call’s side to rest at Aaron’s feet, he could do nothing more than watch forlornly. Even Havoc didn't want to be around him.

His head hurt, his leg hurt, even his subconscious felt like it had been torn up into a million little pieces of nothingness. He was both physically and literally sitting in the closest thing to Hell he could practically get to. And that was saying a lot, considering the Pinnacle wasn’t anything like school which had been the previous first place contender. There were actual pillars of flame here, that seemed to consume the entire other half of the hallway for as far back as the eye could see. The fire was retained only by a chained spear fence that looked about as strong as his left leg was and the smell of brimstone and ash burned his nostrils. Giant stone statues of Cyclops stood amidst the fire, their weapons drawn, looking ready for combat. Call blinked and watched in absolute horror as the Cyclops blinked back at him with a sneer. A flash of fire covered the statue and when Call looked back again, their faces had returned to their original positions. 

    “Hello? Call?” 

Call nearly jumped out of his own skin when Tamara placed her warm hand on his cold ones. He hadn't realized she had been standing next to him at all.

    “I’ve been calling your name for a while now, and when you didn't respond I tapped you,” she explained when she saw his wide-eyed expression. “Your hands are really cold, are you okay?” 

    Call took the risk to look up into her lovely dark eyes and was surprised to find her expression devoid of any negative emotions. She was looking at him the same way she had, if not kinder. His stomach rumbled loudly in response, and Tamara laughed. It sounded like twinkling bells. “I guess I’m just a little hungry.” 

    “Right, just a little,” she teased, and then she walked a bit away, “Just give me a second, I’ll bring something for you.”

Call was going to protest her kindness, but she had already practically completed her task by the time he had set his mind to it. There was no reason to call out to her by that point. He watched as she commanded Jasper to do something, heard the boy groan in reply, and then she finally headed back towards him. She had two plates of curry in her hands.

    “I hope you don’t mind if I join you,” she said, plopping down next to him. 

    “Would you even move if I did say I mind?” he asked, without really thinking about it. 

    “No,” Tamara informed him. 

They both sat in silence for a moment, guzzling down their food, until Tamara turned her head to chastise Jasper. “Jasper, don’t let Aaron’s head roll around too much, you could strain his neck.  Keep his head tilted slightly on your lap!”

    “I don’t want his head in my lap!” Jasper said, despite the fact that he was complying with her demands and trying to adjust Aaron’s head to the right angle. 

Call leaned forward to catch a glimpse of the ongoing circus act in front of him, and nearly spit out his rice when he caught sight of Jasper. He was currently sitting with his feet tucked underneath him and Aaron’s head lying on his lap while he - poured something into his mouth. Call wanted to laugh at Jasper for looking so out of his element, but at the same time he couldn't imagine how humiliating it would be for Aaron if he happened to wake up at that moment. 

    “What am I even watching?” he finally asked.

    “You are watching Jasper do his first good deed to his friend, Aaron,” Tamars said testily, which gained a glare from the Asian boy, and a very perplexed look from Call. There was definitely something going on between the two if Tamara was making comments like that. “I’m kidding, Jasper is just dropping small drops of healing potion onto Aaron’s tongue to increase his recovery rate. I don’t want him to choke, so the angle of the head is very important.”

    “Right,” he confirmed warily.

    “Anyway, what I really wanted to tell you, is thank you. Aaron wouldn't have been able to defeat Beelzebub without you,” Tamara said clasping her hands over her crossed knees. The action brought Call's attention to her torn tights which barely covered the numerous scratches all over her legs. With difficulty, Call brought his focus back to her face and really studied her for a moment. Dark circles stained her underyes, and swollen bruises covered almost all the entirety of her arms. He hadn't realized it before since he had been so stuck in his own head, but Tamara looked quite ready to collapse herself. "Honestly, we wouldn't have even been able to kill all of the big monsters without you in the first place. I just want you to know that I'm really glad we ran into you when we did."

 Call took a deep breath and tried to steady himself. "I..." He felt as if he had been slapped in the face with a dripping wet tuna. A million thoughts were running through his head. He wanted to reciprocate her thoughts because they were the best thing that had happened to him in a long time too, but at the same time he felt an overwhelming sense of guilt. How could he have suspected Tamara of such cruelty? How could he have even thought about choosing his dad over any of them? "I would be dead without you guys too so thanks for that, I guess," his voice almost cracked and it suddenly became infinitely more difficult to look Tamara in the eyes. Leave it to him to destroy his sentimental thoughts with a butchered delivery and small vocabulary. Tamara had tried to keep her face in a smile, but when his voice cracked she openly laughed at him.

Call rolled his eyes and crossed his arms dramatically. "You know, both you and Aaron laugh at my voice cracks. My self esteem is starting to suffer from all this abuse."

"What self esteem?" Tamara wheezed out and Call broke into the same uncontrollable laughter as the accuracy of Tamara's statement pierced his soul. For knowing him for so short a time, she sure could roast him.

"It's only dead from how far it had to jump down from your ego," Call responded and they both began to laugh again.

"What is wrong with you guys? That's not even funny, you're just insulting each other." Jasper said. Apparently he had come to investigate what all of the ruckus had been about.

"You don't understand our sophisticated-" Tamara began.

"-Humour," Call finished, grinning. 

Jasper groaned, rubbing a hand over his eyes and Tamara and Call took the opportunity to fist bump.

"Okay, airheads, whatever you say. More importantly,  it's like eleven pm right now, and we have not one but two evil vampires we need to wipe the floor with in the morning. So let's follow our Golden boy's example and get some sleep."

"We're not going to a resting room?" Call asked instead of making fun of Jasper for momming them.

"There are no rest rooms in the Pinnacle," Tamara explained, her tone sobering quickly. "So one of us will have to keep watch… But we can switch out every four hours so everyone gets to sleep a little. I can sta-"

"I can go first, I don't mind,"  Call offered. Both Tamara and Jasper fixed him with the most incredulous of looks.

    “It's okay, Call, Aaron is gonna wake up. You don’t have to stand in for him,” Jasper said smugly, “I, on the other hand, am a naturally hard-working and kind person. Tamara, I can be the one to stay up first.”

Call frowned and Tamara placed her hands on her hips.

“No-” she started, but Call was quick to speak over her.

“I say, the person with the least open wounds takes first watch,” he said. Jasper narrowed his eyes accusingly at him.

 “I suppose that is fair,” she admitted. 

Call gave them both a quick once over with his eyes and then shrugged like he hadn't been planning for such an unlikely outcome. “Guess,  I’ll be first then.”

“That is not even fair-” Jasper started and then he clasped his own mouth shut, scowling. 

“Oh come on Jasper, Call is right. Let's take this nice reprieve and get some rest. We all know you need the most beauty sleep anyway,” Tamara said, smiling. When Jasper still didn't move she pulled him gently by the arm and he complied.  

It hit him as he watched his friends fall asleep, as swift and sharp as an arrow to the head: he didn't have to play by Joseph's rules. He didn't have to only consider the two choices he was given. Both of the choices he had been given would have given Joseph the upper hand, but what if Call made his own choice. 

He didn't have to wait around like a lamb to the slaughter, he could find Joseph himself before they were attacked. If it was just them confronting each other one on one, Call wouldn't have any qualms about using his magic. He would probably blow that sucker away. The only part he actually had to think about was finding him, and even that couldn't be too hard considering the fact that Tamara had a map that had clearly written words on it. Joseph was somewhere in the Pinnacle, it couldn't take that long to find him.

Since he was technically shirking off his responsibility of protecting his friends, Call set up two NightMares to guard the front and back exit of the hallway they were resting in. In that way, they would still be keeping any lurking monsters out after he left while still staying out of sight. Next, he summoned his Alura Une and had her throw her magic healing pollen over all three of his friends. Just so they had better odds whenever they were ambushed. 

At that point, Call really did feel a deep exhaustion overcome him, so after he “borrowed” Tamara’s map, he grabbed two extra donuts and set out. He hadn't even walked five steps when he felt a soft nudge at his leg.

Havoc looked up at him, his head tilted and his tail wagging softly. Call felt his heart melt a little. 

    “Hey buddy, I’m going now, but I’ll be back soon,” he whispered, “Protect everybody while I’m gone, okay?”

Havoc whined softly like he understood what Call had said and didn't agree with him, but Call took it as such anyways and began to walk away. He froze when he heard the pitter patter of footsteps behind him. Havoc was right behind him, his tail wagging faster now, as if he was playing a game. 

    “Havoc,” Call pleaded, kneeling down to his height, “You can’t come with me. You gotta stay here.”

His tail abruptly stopped wagging, as if the meaning behind Call’s words hit him and he rubbed his head on his shirt like he had used to do when he was a puppy. Only, he was far too big now, so Call leaned in and hugged his wolf like this was their final farewell. Havoc licked his face, temporarily distracted by Call’s display of affection. It was only when he pulled away that the wolf finally seemed to understand that he wouldn’t be able to go. 

    “Bye,” Call whispered, and this time when he walked there was no patter of footsteps behind him. 

He continued all the way to the end of the hallway, and then turned back to see Havoc’s darkened silhouette sitting exactly where he had left him. Call turned his back and left, and that was when he heard it, a lone piercing howl filled the Pinnacle. Call kept walking forward, his jaw clenched. He would make it back. He had to.

Chapter Text

White light blinded his vision and his mother swirled into their star lit greenhouse, dressed in her favourite azure yukata. The mid-autumn moon gleamed down on them, casting a golden white halo around her and illuminating the swaying bamboo stocks. It danced in her eyes, brightening them like stars did the night sky. In his mind, Jasper likened her to the Japanese moon princess she had told him about so many years ago. His dad had been there when she had told him the story and boldly claimed that no one could ever come close to how beautiful she was; she had blushed and shooed him away. His father had always been brash and open about his feelings. He had never been afraid to tell people anything. It  struck him in that moment, like a piercing cold: his father wasn't there with them. It was his mother's favourite festival and he never missed it, not for anything. She couldn't be home celebrating the Mid-Autumn fest in Japan, so they had built this garden together and sworn to watch the harvest moon glow for all of the days they had together. Jasper had sworn too.

"Where's dad?" He asked, despite the inkling he had.

His mother pulled him close and pointed towards the moon. "Sit and enjoy tsukimi with me. The moon will not be like this for a very long time."

Jasper obeyed her for a moment, and his eyes returned to the moon. Its glow, which illuminated everything in its aureate radiance, was in fact not its own brightness. It was the sun shining behind it that gave forth such light. The moon itself was just a dull grey rock… it was nothing without the sun. Something clicked in his mind as he stared at the lustreless orb that hung in the sky.

His father was just like the moon.

When Jasper found the ability to voice his thoughts, the voice he managed was smaller than the sound of wind whistling through a blade of grass.

    “He's not coming back, is he?”

Jasper didn't dream long enough to relive his mother's answer. He was rudely awakened by the feeling of something slamming into him with enough force to send them both rolling across the ground. He blinked his eyes blearily and tried to take in the scene around him. Chaos. It was utter chaos surrounding him so much so he thought he needed to go back to sleep and return to the more believable nightmare he had just come from. 

    “Jasper! Are you okay?!” Aaron asked worriedly even though he was the one who clearly had a blackish bruise forming on his head. Apparently Aaron had been the one to fall into him, which meant even if he was okay , he really wasn't that okay.

    “No, I’m not-” Jasper started, but Tamara shouted above him.

    “Dodge!!” 

On instinct, both boys rolled even further to the side and watched as multiple man-sized icicles pierced an approaching Cthulhu. The monster screeched, its tentacles writhing as death claimed it. 

    “What the hell happened here?!” Jasper exclaimed as he dropped to his stomach and began to army crawl back towards the remnants of their camp. “Where is Call?”

    “Gone,” Aaron said, slicing an oncoming Erinys from behind Jasper. Feathery white wings fell from the sky, making the blonde look as if he was an angel, ethereal and untouchable. Jasper pursed his lips. “I think he was captured. His dad was-”

    “His dad’s here too?!” He exclaimed as he grabbed his spear and leapt back to his feet. Aaron followed the motion and brandished his sword heroically. 

    “Oh, yeah, he is,” the blonde said, taking a moment to scratch his cheek. Jasper watched as another Erinys charged Aaron from behind, her sword deathly close to his neck. He didn't waste a second in lunging towards her, his spear parallel with her unprotected abdomen, but the feathered valkyrie was quick to raise her shield. His spear smashed against it, sending waves of force reverberating backwards into his very bones. 

While she was distracted from the front, Aaron quickly took advantage of the situation, rolled under her feet, and cut her down. Neither boy had the chance to recuperate as a new stream of foes trickled into the hallway from both sides: armoured Lizardmen. It didn't take long for the three-metre tall beasts to charge across the room and close in around them. Saliva dripped from their fanged mouths and dripped onto their unsheathed longswords, and their beady yellow eyes bored into Jasper’s soul. Both boys fell back until they felt their backs press against each other; they were surrounded on all sides. 

    “Lets see what your Yu-Gi-Oh cards can do Goldilocks,” Jasper joked, though as their foes pressed closer he wondered more desperately how they were to take on so many enemies. Aaron didn't seem to have any better ideas. Usually when Jasper made fun of him the blonde quipped back, but here he was staying dead silent.

    “Jasper, I’m gonna distract them. You take the opportunity to jump out of this ring and cut them down from the outside. We’ll save each other.”

    Jasper looked at the blonde incredulously, “Are you insane? As soon as I’m gone they’re going to kill you and turn you into literal minced meat.”

    “You think you're the only one keeping them at bay inside this ring?” Aaron asked, confusion etched on his face. 

    “....Yes?” Jasper answered, without much thought. Aaron’s question was valid, neither of them were doing much but waiting for their enemy's first move, yet the Lizardmen seemed like they had their attention elsewhere. A bright blast of heat came from the front of the circle, powering through the front row of Lizards and sending them flying past both boys. Jasper and Aaron stood stunned.

    “Both of you are idiots! Stop arguing and start figh-'' Tamara's voice wavered mid-sentence as she noticed a change in the air. Both boys were already dashing toward her with as much haste as they could muster, but it was too late. In a single instant a large Cthulhu appeared behind Tamara and sliced downward, cutting the entirety of her back in one fell swipe. She crumbled like a leaf under the force of the blow, and her blood splattered everywhere, staining Jasper’s vision crimson. 

    “Shit shit shit, Tamara, come on Tamara,” Jasper pleaded as he caught her fallen form. Blood stained his sleeves and he felt his breath shortening. Why did Tamara have to be the one to get hurt? Jasper glanced up and caught Aaron’s steely gaze. He wanted to be Tamara’s side as much as Jasper himself did, but there had to be at least one of them holding off the swarms of monsters. So instead, he had to trust Jasper to protect her for the time being. Both Tamara and Aaron were relying on him, he didn't have time to feel nervous.  As soon as their shared moment ended, Aaron began battling the Cthulhu as well as a group of the Lizardmen. The blonde was fighting a losing battle and they both knew it, but he fought it so Jasper had an opening. An opening to get Tamara the healing potion she needed to survive. “Tamara, I-I need you to talk to me. I need you to say something,” he begged. 

She looked at him for a moment before her eyes fluttered shut. Jasper felt his lips tremble as he maneuvered through the mass of monsters despairingly. Her beautiful brown skin looked so pale and her body felt like a cold weight in his arms. It felt like a corpse. 

Jasper did his best to push through the hordes of monsters that stood in his path, but there were far too many. The arrival of Lizardmen had made the thirty second journey into an hour ordeal. Hastily getting to the potion was no longer an option; Aaron was far behind him holding back the enemies that had been pursuing them there and was probably getting swarmed by the ones he had managed to evade. Jasper had no choice but to stop and try to push back the oncoming assault if he wanted to gain any ground. Tamara was going to have to wait. There was no other choice. 

Sweat slickened his grip on his spear and fear made his fingers tremble such that they resembled the shaking branches of a tree in a windstorm: desolate and bound to break. There was no time to fix his hold on his weapon, there were more approaching enemies he had to finish. Pulling Tamara closer to his chest, Jasper readied his spear above his head and got ready to perform an advanced skill he had dubbed in his head as, “roaring winds”. The idea was to spin the spear above his head, with the blade facing outwards, and create distance between himself and the enemy. Any lizard that failed to move backwards got their head thwacked off. The biggest problem was that it left the rest of his - and Tamara’s - body wide open which is why he would have to perform it quickly to ensure neither of them took any more damage. 

Jasper swung with enough fervour to chop all of his enemies’ heads off, but a realization hit him rather belatedly. He was only using one hand. Instead of spinning, like he had intended it to, the spear was flung like a javelin into one of the Lizard’s heads. The beast staggered backwards and fell; however, three taller and better equipped Lizards were quick to take his place. Jasper had a feeling he wasn’t going to see his spear again for a while. He stared for a second in amazement, but the feeling was quickly replaced with deep-rooted fear. Being left unarmed and at the mercy of Lizardmen was not his idea of a winning battle at all. 

There were no openings. There was nowhere to run or escape to. He was going to die- no they were going to die. Tamara was going to die. Jasper glanced about frantically, one last time just in case he had missed anything and cursed in his head when his scan proved fruitless. He had only decided to “tag-along” on this stupid mission after hearing Tamara and Aaron go on about it for weeks; he hadn’t wanted to be left out of their group, not again. None of it mattered though- and now he was going to pay with his life. At least he would die protecting Tamara. Even if that entailed using his body as a meat shield between her and their assailants. He would die a hero-

    “Get up and help me stupid!!” a shrill voice called out, and Jasper thought for a moment that Call had returned, just in time, to save them both. He glanced up and felt his jaw drop. 

    “Drew?!” he exclaimed, completely dumbfounded. The shorter boy was sporting a particularly decorated parasol and swinging it right and left to keep the Lizardmen back. Jasper’s daze lasted only a brief moment and he felt a deep frown etch its way onto his lips. “What are you playing at?! You’re standing here pretending to help us, when these guys are here at your call! Well,” Jasper said, picking the boy up by his collar, “You’re not getting away this time. If you don’t call this trash back, I swear I’ll-”

    “Lemme’ go!” Drew cried, swatting him with his umbrella. “I’m on you guys’ side now, stop trying to kill me! These Lizard-dudes won’t listen to me, practically nothing in the castle does!”

    “Like I believe any of that shit-”

    “I don’t have time to explain everything to you! Tamara is bleeding out and we’re both surrounded, just take Butterscotch and get her a potion! She can get through all of them, I swear! Then you’ll see I’m being honest!”

Jasper grimaced distastefully, but reluctantly set the smaller boy down. He had to take Drew’s pony - Butterscotch - whether he wanted to or not; there was literally no other way he would manage to get through the hordes of enemies. 

    “If anything even goes slightly wrong, Butterscotch is dying first.”

Drew pouted childishly, which in Jasper’s opinion made him look even more insufferable and pathetic and proceeded to speak in a small diminutive tone. 

    “S-stop, she’s my last pony left after you and your chum killed the rest of them… Speaking of which, where is that guy?"

Jasper clicked his tongue as he gently positioned Tamara onto the NightMare's back. "Call? He disappeared a few hours ago… even though I'm sure you knew that."

     "Drew!" Aaron shouted, flipping over the head of a Lizardmen. He landed on both feet in front of the pair, staggered, righted himself, and then proceeded to cut down the Lizard he had used as a trampoline without even turning to see him. If Jasper wasn't so biased towards him, he might have whistled. He would rather take on ten Lizardmen then five Aarons. The guy was a freaking tank . "You said you know where Call went? Is he okay?"

The expression on Drew's face looked like a mix between fear, shock, and absolute terror. Jasper didn't even try to stifle his laugh.

 "Oh yeah, and, I knew you'd come around," The blonde added, nudging the shorter boy familiarly while smiling. Drew’s open mouth fell into a disgusted frown. 

"Your optimism is nauseating," Jasper said flatly.

 "Well, I think your pessimism can be really suffocating sometimes."

After standing in the centre awkwardly for a moment, Drew wrinkled his nose and shrugged. "Well, I don't really like either of you guys’s personalities."

 "Oh my gosh," Tamara exclaimed, while holding onto Butterscotch's neck to remain upright."If I had really been bleeding to death, I would be dead - no, wait, actually that's too generous. My entire funeral procession would be over."

“You haven’t gotten her the potion yet?!” Aaron exclaimed incredulously.

“Tamara,” Jasper said, ignoring Aaron’s comment completely. A soft smile spread across his lips unconsciously and he placed a hand on his hip. “You finally said something.” 

    “Yes, I did, but if I don’t get my potion stat, I won’t say anything for a very long time, so let's get on with it already,” she said motioning him towards the horse. 

Jasper smirked and leapt onto Butterscotch's back. “Yeah, sorry for the delay.”

In one smooth motion, the Nightmare dashed into the fray and practically dissolved into the sheer multitude of bodies. Aaron and Drew watched for a moment before resuming combat.

    “What was that?” Drew asked, his nose scrunched up.  He currently had his parasol opened up, and spinning, so it acted as both a weapon and a shield. Aaron stared at it oddly, but quickly found his attention was needed elsewhere. 

    “They’ve known each other for a really long time, he just acts that way to me because he doesn't like me that much… He’s usually not that, uh, back and forth.” Aaron explained while he downed the Lizardmen Drew had dazed with his umbrella. They made a surprisingly good team. 

    “Must be nice,” Drew muttered, closing his umbrella. A sharp silver blade protruded from the top of it and he sliced off three of the Lizard’s heads simultaneously. A curtain of crimson blood sprayed behind him as he flicked his sword off to remove the last blood droplets. “Must be nice to have someone who cares.”

His swordsmanship was perfect. Just by watching his single finisher, Aaron could tell that he had been practising for more years than he could fit on his fingers. Drew had been trained to be the perfect soldier, the perfect warrior; he had been brainwashed to become the perfect sacrifice . And all for what? Drew was standing here beside him, disowning his vampiric ways. The battle was over. They had won. There was no more of “Dracula’s heir”. 

    “You probably won’t believe me when I say this Drew, but all three of us abandoned Ecclesia and our families to come here...To come here and save you. None of us wanted to standby and watch you get cut down.”

Drew stared at him briefly, his bottom lip wobbling dangerously. Butterscotch returned in that moment and reared backwards dangerously. The shorter boy took the moment to flee from the situation and try and placate his pony while Tamara and Jasper dismounted. Aaron immediately noticed her colour looked much more lively and bright.

“Somethings wrong,” she said and both Aaron and Drew turned towards her, “There is something off with this hallway. For some reason, no matter how many Lizards you kill they just keep coming back. It's like Joseph has sent every Lizardman into this hallway at this time.” 

“That's not the only thing though,” Jasper added smartly. “I also noticed that when we group together like this - or even groups of one or two, the Lizards don’t attack. They inch forward, but they only ever actually swing at us when one of us has been soloed out like what happened with Tamara.”

“So what do you guys think it is?” Aaron asked. 

    “I know,” Drew whispered, rocking back and forth from his toes to the balls of his feet. “I know what's happening,” he repeated. His hands opened and closed at his sides like he was grasping at something that wasn’t there. 

“Yeah?” Aaron prompted gently. 

“He's going to finish the job.” he replied numbly. His eyes flashed upwards for a second before continuing to stare at the floor. His breaths had become sharp and fleeting. It was like he was gasping for air.

“Finish what job?” Jasper prompted. 

Tremors racked his small frame making him quiver violently. Tamara sent a small frown in Jasper’s direction and placed a stabilizing hand on his shoulder. 

    “Drew?”

    Drew’s eyes flitted upwards as he examined Tamara’s face as if she was a stranger he had never met. When he managed to speak his words were broken into fragments.

    “He- he’s, m-my, dad, he’s- he’s-”

Chapter Text

Call limped up the remaining steps, his heart pounding madly. According to the map he had borrowed, he was only a room away from reaching Joseph, but having finally made it all the way to the marked room, Call couldn't help but stop for a moment.

Was he really ready to face Joseph, and kill him? What if Alistair really was dead, could he handle that? Would he be able to handle any of the truth at all? As he was making his way through the different hallways, he had been deciding to take the situation in the same way he got his shots: briefly painful, yet survivable…But it only made sense this confrontation wouldn’t be anywhere near as easy as that. 

Call squared his shoulders and brushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes. All throughout the castle his emotions, thoughts, his very psyche had been taken on a rollercoaster- a really fast  one without seatbelts to be accurate. He never knew what was going on half the time, making his opinions change as drastically as a toddler’s emotions, and worst of all, he had no idea how to make logical sense of any of it. The only thing he did know was that he wanted everyone and his dad to survive which kind of left him with no choice but to confront Joseph here and now. At least that's how he was convincing himself to keep walking forward. If he wanted any chance of getting them all out alive, he didn't have time to dawdle around.

Call entered the room with his gun cocked in his hand, and staggered as he was hit with a dizzying familiarity; he had been here before, he swore it. The smell of aged leather and sandalwood wafted throughout the room, and the warm glow of multiple candelabras illuminated a long table covered with broken and chipped china. The light also helped  brighten the fallen shelves, torn books, and shattered vases; whoever had lived here had treated the room badly and numbered its days of grandeur. The entire room looked like it had once belonged in an expensive European hotel rather than Dracula’s castle, but the most eye-catching thing by far was a large stained window that stood in the very centre. Call stepped forward, carelessly tromping on a fallen lily-of-the-valley, and stared at the window completely entranced. It depicted a red-winged angel wielding a holy golden sword; the glass was shattered where his head had been, and was instead replaced by bright moon-beams streaming through the opening, bathing Call entirely in vivid red light. He had almost forgotten that there was a lunar eclipse going on.

    “Uriel, Archangel of repentance,” Joseph said, stepping out from behind one of the crimson curtains that framed the sides of the window. 

Instinctively Call raised his gun and shot, and missed his target by a few millimeters. Instead he ended up shattering more of the stained glass. Now the archangel had neither sword nor head.

    “Now, now, boy, violence will solve nothing here,” the older man chastised, as he moved to sit down in one of the less destroyed sitting chairs. Joseph reached for a chipped teacup and drank from it in one silent motion. When he looked back at Call his lips were stained crimson.

    “Where is he? Where is my dad?” he demanded, his voice trembling ever so slightly. The same could not be said of his hand which was shaking so badly, it caused his gun to rattle in his hand. Despite having drunk human blood himself, Call had difficulty hiding how unnerving the act was to him. Joseph was a monster.  “If you don’t stop the ambush right now, violence is gonna be my only option.”

    Joseph appraised him appreciatively and then smiled, his fangs hanging over his lower lips. It was probably the most disturbing thing Call had seen in the entire castle. “Just like him… Already, I can see the similarities you both share.”

Call clenched his jaw and did his best to sound angry rather than frightened. 

“Stop beating around the bush and answer me!” 

 Joseph’s smile evaporated as if it had never been there and he stood and began to pace. “Tell me Callum,” he said, “How does it feel to be a vampire?”

Call’s first thought was “natural”, and his second was “powerful”,  but there was no way he was going to tell this fiend something that he might possibly want to hear. 

    “It feels cold and horrible.” 

    “It does, but we are not powerless beings. We can conjure flames to warm ourselves,” he said conjuring a blue flame on the tip of his staff. Call wasn’t sure where he had gotten that thing from, but now of all times was not the moment to be losing focus. “And we can do so much more than that as well. I might even be able to influence the castle to change to my liking, but you ,” he purred, “You have the power to directly control it.” 

Call shuddered under the man’s gaze, but he to admit his interest was slightly piqued. “I can’t change the castle.” I’ve literally been suffering since the moment I entered this place, he added in his head. 

“Oh, but haven’t you already changed it?” Joseph asked. “Did you not shorten the eternal staircase within the Demonguest House? Did you not summon a room for yourself to rest and bathe in?” 

Call suppressed a shiver that went up his spine at the connotations the comment brought and focused his mind on the first part of the statement. “I didn’t shorten anything, I walked up all those stairs-”

“Do you really believe you could walk up over seven flights of stairs with your leg like that?” An angry scowl formed on Call’s lips at the mention of his leg. “A gift left for you by none other than your dearest mother of course.”

“What do you know about my mom?!”

“No, boy, the real question is what do you know about your mother?” Joseph demanded, sweeping in front of him in a terrible display of power. “Do you even know where you were born?”

Call swallowed slowly, his own eyes flashing red with raw emotion. “A hospital.”

A crazed look entered Joseph’s eyes and he cackled before his face returned to being completely  devoid of any emotion. “Of course that is what Alistair told you. Once a liar, always a liar,” he rubbed his beard cooly. “You would have been better born a bastard.”

Searing hot fury poured through Call’s veins at the mention of his father. He didn’t think twice before aiming two bullets straight into Joseph's heart, but the man moved instantly, leaving a black blur of shadow where he had once stood. The entire room shook as Call’s anger spiked, sending rivulets of cracks upon every surface. The scuffle ended abruptly as Joseph reappeared directly in front of him and picked him up by his neck easily. He didn't stop there either. Without a moment wasted, Joseph proceeded to squeeze his throat tightly, suffocating him and efficiently stopping the room from being utterly annihilated. Call clawed at Joseph's hands, discarding his gun in favor of saving his life, but the man’s grip only tightened. 

    “Le-t go!” Call gasped, as he felt his windpipe being crushed. 

    “Save your power, boy,” Joseph ordered, throwing his body into the chair he had previously sat in. “You will need it.”

The chair was reduced to splinters under the force of Call’s weight and his roll only stopped when he slammed into the leg of the table. But even stopping offered him no reprieve: he choked in his sheer desperation to return air to his lungs. 

He realized it then, as he struggled to breathe, just how big of a mistake he had made approaching Joseph on his own. He was on a completely different level. His epiphanies were almost always too late to be of any help.

He didn’t have time to mull over his thoughts as Joseph returned and grabbed a handful of his hair, forcing him to look up. It took all of his will not to groan in pain.

    “Come now, stand up Callum. You don’t want to miss your friends, do you?”

Call perked up slightly at the mention of his friends, but his mind was quick to remind him that the statement coming from Joseph probably didn't mean anything good. If anything, it probably meant something really bad. 

When he failed to stand, Joseph grabbed his arm cruelly and dragged him towards an ominous glowing orb that hadn’t been there when he first entered. Upon getting closer, Call could see that it was something of a magical looking glass, only it displayed images of distant places within the castle. The closer he got, the more his stomach sunk; he had a terrible feeling about what was going to be displayed.

The image showed the hallway he had been in just hours ago, only what he was looking at couldn't be called much of a hallway anymore. There were so many monsters he couldn't even see the cobblestone floor much less make out his friends. As if sensing his desire, the orb flashed to his friends, flashing through each one for a few seconds at a time. They were bloodied and exhausted even further than Call was, but they didn’t hesitate in fighting against the flow of enemies. They had always been like that: both persistent and smart. A fleeting desire to be with them flashed through his mind.

    “Be grateful I’m even being so gracious to you boy! After your recklessness earlier, I was thinking about simply slaughtering them all without giving you a single chance,” Joseph chuckled softly to himself, “I really am becoming soft.”

Call’s throat went dry as Joseph’s words dawned on him. When he found his voice, it was still raspy from having coughed so much.  “W-What are you talking about?”

Joseph smiled widely, his sharp teeth on full display.    

    “You’ve been using your magic all of this time, and now is the time to put it to the test. Show me just how much power you have; warp the castle to your precious friends’ advantage and they might have a chance at  winning; however, if you fail to combat my power, They will all experience an untimely death at your hands.”

Cold sweat trickled down Call’s back and he glanced back discreetly to see where exactly he had dropped his gun. 

    “Callum,” Joseph said, his voice iron, “If you try anything other than what I have described to you, I will waste no time in disposing of them all instantaneously. Do I make myself clear?”

“Drew is,” Call coughed, desperate to try and get some advantage over the man.  “You know Drew is down there fighting alongside them. If you kill them, you’ll kill him too.”

    “I asked you if I made myself clear, boy!”

    Another burst of anger blossomed in his chest and he fought desperately to keep his tongue in check. Drew was Joseph’s own son, there was no reason for his intense apathy.  There were so many things wrong with the situation, Call found his logical reasoning tainted by pure spite.  “As clear as shit water,” he said defiantly, turning his face away. And yet, his mouth still somehow always got the better of him.

Joseph turned around for a moment, dangerously quiet. Call glared at him from the corner of his eyes and barely had time to blink before the man swung his staff straight into Call’s head. For a moment all he felt was a dull thudding pain resounding in his skull… But it quickly morphed into a sharp and stinging pain. The glass orb that had sat on the head of Joseph’s staff had shattered, leaving tiny shards of glass stuck in both his face and hair. 

    Joseph tossed the staff away as if he no longer liked it and dusted himself off casually. He then proceeded to clear his throat cordially, as if he hadn’t just beat someone half to death.  “Let us begin.” 

 His mind was consumed no longer by anger, though some of it did linger, now he couldn't keep the absolute terror from sinking in. He wanted to sob, and run, and get as far away from Joseph as possible, but he couldn't. His friends' we're dependent on him and him alone to save them. 

    “You’re dreaming away your friends’ lives, boy.” Joseph said, his hand hovering over the orb. Purple bolts of magic connected the tips of his fingers to the orb and rolled over the entirety of the glassy surface. Within the first seconds of his display, Call was able to watch the monsters within the image pop up and begin to slash vigorously at everything in sight. They looked like oddly constructed puppets whose strings were suddenly pulled into motion, and it was somehow up to him to figure out how to cut them off again. 

Call methodically placed his hands above the orb and tried to focus on his emotions. He had been beat up when he had first entered this upper room, but when Joseph had attacked him, in that single moment of indignation, he had been able to split the entire wall in half. He didn’t know how to exactly “influence” the monsters like Joseph did, but he assumed it had to be similar to how he had used his magic before. 

Call shut his eyes and focused on conveying his will to the monsters in the image. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

     “We need to get out of this hallway!” Tamara shouted over the sound of battle. 

The Lizardmen who had loitered around rather dumbly just seconds before had suddenly gone feral: slashing at everything within their vicinity including each other. Jasper had been waving his reclaimed spear in one of their faces when he was almost gutted.  

    “Easier said than done!” Jasper shouted back, slicing an arc into the group of Lizards in front of him. Unlike before, none of the Lizards took any damage from his attack. They seemed to have gotten faster, stronger, and somehow much more durable. “Got any ideas?!”

It didn’t help that they were short one fighter either. After Drew had mentioned his father was trying to kill him, he had become inconsolable. He no longer looked or said anything to anyone, he only rocked back and forth on the balls of his feet whispering the same two  phrases over and over again. 

“He’s really going to kill me.” and “I don't wanna die.”

It didn't take much to figure out that he was having some sort of a panic attack, but none of them had time to try and help him through it because the assault had begun right as his emotional resolve shattered.

    “I have to use the cards! There’s no other choice!” Aaron called out, whilst trying to keep their enemies as far away from Drew as possible. “Uranus plus Unicorn! It's the best chance we have!”

    “But it's far too risky!” Tamara argued, “If it’s filled to the brim with enemies in here, imagine how many are waiting for us out there!”

    “We’ve got no other choice Tamara!” Aaron reiterated, pulling the two cards from his belt. He quickly backed some distance away from the front line, and looked to Jasper. “Cover for me!”

    Jasper frowned as he barely managed to dodge a body-slamming Lizardman. “Give me a break man!” he replied, clearly hard-pressed. 

“Stop it!” Drew pleaded suddenly, grabbing onto the back of Aaron’s leg. “Stop! That's exactly what he wants you to do!”

Aaron did pause this time and he turned to Drew confused, but happy he had recovered somewhat. 

    “What do you mean?”

    “The moment you are out of power is the moment you all will fail,” Drew said. “The only way to stop all of this is to kill me. The only way you guys can go free is to kill me.”

    “Whether you die or not doesn’t change anything, Drew.” Tamara said, flames dancing around her fingers. “You're going to leave with us, even if you don’t want to.”

    “But you don’t understand, I’m n-”

    “You’re our friend,” Aaron cut in sternly. “And we're not leaving you or killing you so-"

Aaron paused as the castle groaned and a large chunk of the stone ceiling fell down causing the  enraged Lizardmen to scatter like ants.

"What the hell is going on?!" Jasper cried out as the stone walled crumbled into pebbles. The blood moon gleamed down on them ominously.

"I've got no idea!" Tamara yelled, as a wave of dust engulfed her. "The castle should only begin to break when Dracula - or his heir in this case - dies!"

"...No, but that would mean..." Drew started, his eyes watering.

"That would mean what?" Aaron asked, but he never got the reply to his question. 

Before any of them had a chance to move, the floor split beneath their feet sending all four of them and their foes tumbling down into deeper parts of the castle. Debris and stones rained down along with them, and Aaron hadn't fallen many feet before a large stone struck him on the head, leaving him unconscious.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Try harder boy," Joseph smirked.

 Sweat dripped off of Call's forehead as he concentrated; his fingers trembled so badly he couldn't keep a constant flow of magic going. His emotions were going completely haywire and causing both the rooms to crumble and crack. "I can't-" he cried, his voice cracking, "I'm trying, but I just can't do this!"

Salty tears leaked from his eyes as he watched his friends scramble desperately for their lives. "Stop! Please! I-I swear, I swear I'll do whatever you want!" He begged, "Just leave them alone, please!"

Joseph smiled slowly, as if Call had said the only thing he had ever wanted to hear. "I am glad we have come to negotiating terms, Callum. Now listen to my proposal carefully, for I will only say it once."

Call glanced towards the man. He was beginning to feel sick.

"I will allow Tamara, Jasper, and Aaron to go free and unscathed if you agree to kill Drew."

"N-n-no," Call stuttered, waving his hands in front of himself. "I- I can't do th-"

"Oh, but you will. You must ."

As Joseph spoke, the stained glass window shattered and Call caught sight of the room in the orb sustaining physical damage as well. Pieces of the chandelier and ceiling poured down around them, hiding the rest of the room in clouds of dust. Call’s vision was restricted so that he could only see Joseph and the orb.

"No one will know it was by your hand of course, Callum. It will be our little secret."

Call stood stock still, his mouth stuck half open. His emotions were crescendoing and his morals screamed loudly in his ears, hopelessly trying to solve the predicament he had been forced into. 

 "I-"

The dust shifted for a moment and Joseph looked at it suspiciously.

"Callum, did I not tell you to-"

The older man never finished his sentence as Havoc tore through the filth and latched his teeth onto Joseph's thigh causing the man to howl with pain. He grabbed Havoc by the scruff and threw him like a discarded toy. Call lurched forward, worried, but his wolf was quick to recover and resumed growling.

Joseph turned his hateful gaze towards Call, completely ready to incinerate him, but once again the opportunity never came for him. Instead, a bullet launched itself into his chest and blackened blood spewed from his lips.

It only took a moment for the remaining dust in the room to clear and Call couldn't have been happier for it.

"Get the hell away from my son, you goddamned bathead." Alistair commanded, his silver gun smoking.

"Alistair Hunt," Joseph hissed, clearly ready to tear him to shreds. Havoc didn't give him a chance to think twice about the idea and launched himself into a flurry of attacks far too fast for the older man to block. 

Alistair quickly took the chance to reach Call and kneel by his side. 

"Hey, you think you can stand kiddo?

"Yeah," Call responded, his voice hoarse.

Call latched onto Alistair like a puppy deprived of touch, and even after he managed to stand he felt reluctant to let go. 

    “My god, what did he do to you?” Alistair murmured cupping Call’s face in his hands. He wanted to say something that would let his dad know he was okay, something strong and cool, something a hero would say, but instead his lips just trembled as he tried desperately to suppress a sob. Alistair leaned down and put his hand on his shoulder.

    “Listen Call, I want you to run out of here and get as far away from this room as possible. Do you understand me?”

    “But-”

    “No buts, kid. I’ll meet back with you soon, ‘kay?”

    Call nodded even though the last thing he wanted to do was be separated from Alistair again. 

    “Take Havoc with you too,” Alistair added. 

Call grunted in acknowledgement, and whistled softly at the dog. It didn’t take but two seconds for Havoc to untangle himself from his ongoing skirmish with Joseph and return to Call’s side. 

    “Enough of this nonsense!” Joseph seethed, while pulling out a large old tome from within his coat. “You will pay dearly for this interruption, Alistair!”

Alistair looked at Joseph with his eyebrows raised. “Don’t get cocky, you were only able to get the better of me earlier because you had leverage. Without it, you're as good as dead.”

Call didn't listen to their conversation much longer before limping out. His leg seemed to have taken a lot of harm after he had been tossed around so he had to lean on Havoc heavily. He had thought about staying and trying to help his dad, until he heard him mention leverage. That had probably been him and the last thing he wanted to do was debilitate his dad any further. 

He had only walked out a few feet past the door when a sharp heated pain crawled up his body. It felt as if he was being dumped in ice cold water and then suddenly consumed by fire. An excruciating agony consumed him, and he crumbled on the floor pathetically as Havoc began to bark worriedly. Memories and power were flowing into him. Dark powers were consuming him, yet everything was beginning to make a sickening amount of sense. These weren’t just any dark powers, it was Dracula’s power flowing into him. 

He screamed in complete torment.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aaron opened his eyes blearily and winced as he regained consciousness. His body ached. Upon sitting up, he found that he was covered by small cracked stones. He was very lucky nothing had ended up landing on his head, things could have gotten pretty bad if that had happened.

    “Jasper? Tamara!” he called out, but no one answered. 

Aaron managed to stand up after removing each rock tediously from his battered legs and he gazed around confusedly. He had landed in the Garden of Madness, which was probably at least two floors below the pinnacle. The castle was still falling apart, but at nowhere near as fast a pace as it had been. That at least gave him time to look for his friends. 

    “Drew?!” he shouted, and a few pebbles from the rock avalanche skittered down the massive pile. “Drew??” Aaron called again, and this time a thin arm shot up from the pile of rocks. 

    “Drew!” Aaron exclaimed, climbing over the discarded stones to where the hand was. Without a moment wasted, he began digging. The stones got larger and heavier the deeper he dug, but Aaron was relentless. He didn’t even stop when his hands got large cuts on them, not until he caught sight of Drew’s face. The boy’s hair was soaked through with black blood, and his lips were coloured an icy blue; he had been suffocating before Aaron had gotten to him. He really wished that he had taken a few potions from Jasper before they had fallen, those really could have come to use. 

    “Drew, can you hear me?” Aaron asked, his voice wavering as something caught in his throat. 

Drew’s eyes blinked lazily until they were able to focus on Aaron’s, then he looked around horrified. 

    “Aaron, w-why,” his voice cracked, “Why can’t I feel my legs?”

Aaron swallowed with difficulty. “You're in a little bit of a jam right now, but I’m gonna get you out. Everything is gonna be okay.”

After a second of silence, Drew sobbed and sputtered on blood as he tried to speak. 

    “I-its okay, Drew you don’t need to say anything,” Aaron said, panic beginning to creep into his voice. 

    “W-why does it hurt so bad?” he asked after he had finished choking on his own blood. Tears were pouring down his cheeks suddenly and Aaron’s heart shuddered. “Is this what dying feels like? Am I dying?” Drew spit up more blood before he managed to cry out again. “I don’t wanna die!”

    “You’re not gonna, I promise. We’re all gonna get out of this together.” Aaron swore, even though he could clearly tell the situation was deteriorating, he kept digging. He had yet to find anymore of any of Drew’s body, but it did little to stop him from trying. 

    “I don’t wanna die a vampire… I never wanted to be like this in the first place, I- I swear! I just did it because of my dad,” Drew rambled, desperately. “I’m not even Dracula’s heir!”

Aaron stopped digging for a moment, before he hastily continued. “You’re not?”

    “No I’m not! It was all a trick so you guys wouldn’t…” Drew’s eyes rolled backwards for a second. “It was all a lie.”

It had taken him a few minutes to clear all of the debris from around Drew, but now that Aaron looked at the situation directly, he saw how hopeless it really was. A massive boulder had fallen on Drew’s body and crushed everything up to his collarbone aside from one of his arms. 

    “Why are you making that f-face?” Drew stuttered, and Aaron quickly tried to school his expression. “I thought Belmonts always got what they wanted,” he sobbed. 

Aaron paled significantly and tried to push the boulder aside. The large rock didn’t even budge against his enhanced strength. 

    “I…”

    “Am I not good enough to save?!” Drew spit out, alongside a mouthful of blood. “I’m sorry- I’m sorry-” he cried, gagging painfully. 

    “No, you're great Drew, it's me, I’m the one-”

    “Aaron, get out of there! There's more rocks falling!” Tamara shouted. 

Aaron glanced back for a second and caught sight of both her and Jasper a good distance away from the rock pile, but still close enough to see. He ignored them.

    “Don-Don’t leave me alone,” Drew begged softly. He seemed to have lost his ability to shout. “I don’t wanna die…”

    “And you’re not going to,” Aaron said resolutely. “I’m not gonna leave you behind.”

The blonde pushed on the stone with his entire body, desperate for it to move. Even despite the other large stones that began to fall beside his feet, Aaron stayed steadfast. Yet another stone fell, and this time it was close enough to scratch his face; the blonde didn't flinch. He continued to push until he felt a pair of arms around his waist grab him backwards. 

    “Let go of me Jasper!” he shouted, shoving against him. “Let go!” 

    “He’s already gone you idiot, stop struggling!”

The two boys fought their way down the pile, each boy angry for reasons the other didn't care to understand. It didn't take long for them to reach the bottom, and as soon as they did Aaron tore Jasper off him and flung him aside, once again dashing towards the rubble. He didn’t get far before Tamara grabbed his arm. 

    “That's enough, Aaron.” she said, her voice full of unnamed sadness, “Please stop.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

    “Do you hear that Alistair? That is the sound of my success.” Joseph said calmly despite the fact he was bleeding out. “ Project Dominus is succeeding just as my master planned.”

    “You're sick. Your mind is sick,” Alistair said numbly. “You do realize that your only family member is dead now, don't you? Did you even care about Drew at all? Aside from the fact he was a part of your damned project?”

    “Hmpfh, I hope you do know your petty arguments mean nothing to me. I am not Constantine. As for my son, I hope you know that he agreed to play this part willingly.”

Alistair shook his head, disgusted, “Did you even know your own kid?”

“My loyalty is to my master, there is none but he that I serve. I have and always will be ready to make small sacrifices if needed.”

“You know, you say that but, I don’t think you knew Constantine any better than you knew Drew.” Alistair said, his silver eyes flashing with emotion. Drew was gone, and no matter how intensely he felt, there was no way to bring him back. But that wasn't the part that irked Alistair. It was the sheer disregard Joseph had. Even in the grave, Drew couldn't even get the slightest touch of love from his father. He never had and never would. 

“Just because I will not kill you today Alistair does not mean that I will not kill you in the future. Your death is imminent.” Joseph fumed, before swirling into a mass of tiny bats and disappearing. 

Alistair watched as the last bat was gone and sighed, utterly exhausted. With Joseph gone, the castle began to disintegrate at a faster pace, numbering Alistair’s already short time. 

    “Alright, lets see where it is…” he mumbled to himself, as he began to raid Constantine’s old drawers. It wasn’t until he got to the vanity, was he able to find what he was looking for: a small silver ring with a rouge coloured gem in the centre. It glowed faintly green. 

Alistair quickly made his way out of Constantine’s old bedroom after that; he didn’t wish to relive any of the old memories he had lived through there, and stooped down to pick up Call’s fallen form. He slipped the large ring on Call’s thumb, whistled Havoc to action, and began their departure out of Constantine’s old castle.

Chapter Text

The sky was tinged purple when he opened his eyes again. The golden sun hovered over the edge of the heavens just bright enough to blanket the sea of trees in warm yellow light. They had made it out.  Call nearly hissed as it burned his eyes, but he caught himself before he did. This was, afterall, the first time he was seeing the sun after nearly a month of going without it. He was pretty sure any normal person wouldn’t hiss at seeing the sun. 

Alistair was carrying him down some cliff when he fully became conscious of his surroundings, but he didn’t tell his dad that he had woken up. They had returned to where they had last been in the forest before they had been whisked away to the castle.

Dracula’s- no, his castle was still crumbling away into nothingness. He couldn’t see it happening, but he could feel part of himself crumbling away with it. The castle wasn’t actually his, he knew that- or his head did at least. It wasn't like the majority of his time there hadn’t been nightmarish and awful; he wished he could erase his memories of it completely, but no matter how strongly he felt, he couldn't shake the tiny part of his soul that clung onto the wonderment of it all. The wonderment and comfort of a place he knew he would be safe in… that part of him wept at the loss of his old home. 

Call wanted to knock himself over the head. It was not his home. 

    “Where's Drew?” he asked despite knowing the answer. He knew Joseph had planned for his own son to be the sacrificial goat the entire time. He knew that Drew had been the other part of project Dominus- the containing part so neither of their bodies would be completely obliterated. Drew had been the seal, the key to avoiding everything, and Call had ended up killing him all by himself. He had killed another human. He was just as much of a monster as Joseph.  

“Gone,” Alistair muttered. Call tried to suppress a shudder. 

After Drew’s death, Call had found his mind filled with thoughts, feelings, and memories he knew were not his. He held no love for the nightmare that Dracula’s castle had been, but this new part of him seemed to miss it. It didn't help that it wasn’t just his head that felt different either, his body felt weird too. His heartbeat felt weak and faint to the point that there was barely a beat there in the first place. There was no pulse on his neck, wrist, or chest. In response to his fading heartbeat, his blood had also begun to grow cold and stagnant; his skin no longer felt warm to the touch, it was chilled. The biggest difference, however, had to be his teeth. The last time he had drank blood, his fangs had grown in and then returned to their normal blunt shape, but now his teeth seemed to be stuck in their fanged form. Any time he ran his tongue over them, it got nicked. With all of the different changes, it was nigh impossible to ignore any of the signs anymore: he was a full-fledged vampire now. And it wasn’t because he was changed by Joseph or anything, he had been born this way. 

His first entrance into the castle had marked the beginning of his body’s changes, and Drew’s death had given him the remaining rest of his power… Despite knowing what had happened, it made little sense to him. How had both Drew and himself been born with Dracula’s power? Why was it that Drew was the one that had to die? Why didn’t Joseph just kill him and let his own portion of Dracula’s power go into Drew? Had his mother been changed too? Had Alistair loved a vampire?

Call wasn't given the chance to ponder his questions, nor did he truly want to answer most of them. After all, underneath it all was the burning desire to keep living, no matter what happened. When Drew's magic had entered into Call's body, it hadn't just been sheer power, he had felt his lingering emotions too. He had felt the desperation Drew had held in his last moments, he had felt the pain. He had gotten just a taste of the cruel misunderstanding that had been dubbed, "Drew's entire life". He had felt firsthand how Joseph, who was the only constant in Drew's short life, betrayed, manipulated and used him to his own advantage. Even when Drew had seen through it all and attempted to change, Call had just upped and been there, stealing the only chance the boy had had to survive. 

"Dad, you can put me down."

Alistair shifted a bit, but seemed reluctant to let go of him. Maybe it was just Call's imagination.

"I'm fine." Call rasped assuringly, as he halfway fell onto the ground while Alistair reluctantly lowered him. He could sense Aaron and Tamara up ahead, and the last thing he wanted to look like was weak. Technically, everything they had been through was all his fault, the least he could do was pretend to be strong enough to let one of them cry on his shoulder. Maybe it would be justified if he cried a little then too. 

"Do I," Call swallowed roughly in an attempt to make his voice come out normally, "Do I look okay?"

 Alistair eyed him up and down, taking into account the numerous injuries that riddled his body. His eyes stayed on his swollen purple neck for a moment before he finally seemed able to speak."You've looked better." 

Call tried to give his dad a humorous smile, but for some reason those particular muscles weren't responding to him at the moment. Havoc nudged his good leg supportively.

With that, they approached the group, and Call realized Jasper and another person were there alongside Aaron and Tamara. The man was thin and short (Aaron stood just inches underneath him), and had a sharp pointed nose. His expression was pinched angrily, making his already small eyes appear beady and hateful. He reminded Call of an angry vulture.

"We had forbidden you all to go, and now you've failed and gotten hurt! Tell me, just why did you think the Order had prepped a group of over fifty grown men to take on Dracula's Castle?! This mission was not a joke!" Birdman fumed. 

"You guys were planning to kill Drew! We had no choice but to go in and save him ourselves!" Tamara argued back.

"Well, I don’t see him with you now. Where is he then?"

 Aaron's fists clenched so tightly, they looked as if they were showing bone. "He's,” his jaw tightened painfully, " dead ."

Birdman looked like he was about to say "I told you so", but Alistair was thankfully able to quickly cut in.

     "Lemuel, that's enough."

     “Lemuel” looked up from his scolding and frowned. "And who are you exactly?"

     Tamara looked at his dad for a mere second before exclaiming, "Call? What happened?! Where were you?"

Aaron was quick to jump in as well, clearly glad to see him, though he seemed too tired to correctly express it. 

    “Are you okay? Is Joseph the one that did this to you?”

Jasper examined Alistair for a long moment, before finally glancing at Call distrustfully. His lips remained a thin line. 

“Well, uh-"

    “Alistair Hunt,” a deep voice said, beckoning everyone's attention away from Alistair and Call. A tall man strode from the shadow of the forest, one of his arms clasped tightly behind his back, and the other carrying a ridiculously old looking book. He wore forest green robes that billowed around his hands and feet regally. He looked as if he had walked straight off of a movie set. 

    “Alistair Hunt?!” Lemuel exclaimed, apprehensively. “I thought he…” his voice trailed off as he felt the weight of Alistair’s gaze resting on him. 

    “Master Rufus!” Aaron said, his voice going slightly squeaky. Call wasn’t sure, but it almost sounded as if Aaron wanted to cry too. He shook away the thought easily. Aaron was the hero and heroes never cried. Villains on the other hand… Well, they had different rules to abide by.

Call had been dreading meeting “Master Rufus” since the first time he had heard about him, and now he was dealing with the terrifying confrontation head on without any preparation whatsoever. Last time something like this happened, he had ended up drinking Jasper’s blood. He didn’t even want to think about what might happen this time.  Alistair seemed to be getting nervous too as his leg began to bounce up and down. His eyes were even shiftily glancing between Rufus and Lemuel. He looked like a guilty suspect being approached by the police. 

    “Students,” Rufus greeted, his voice steely. “There is much to discuss. In the time you have been gone, many things have happened and while I am very glad to see you all alive, that does not mean your reckless actions will go unpunished…”

As Master Rufus continued to speak, Alistair discreetly motioned at Call to begin walking in the opposite direction. Call looked at his friend’s backs and back to his father’s face; they were really just planning to walk out of the entire situation. 

    “And, you Alistair Hunt, were a much better listener in your younger years. Despite your obvious reluctance, I must ask that you and your son return with us to Ecclesia as well.” Rufus said, before they could even walk two steps.

His dad didn’t even turn to look him in the eye, he only glanced at Rufus from  behind the curtain of his overgrown hair. “We’re not going back to that place.”

“I just need you to answer a few questions,” Rufus reasoned, “Afterwards you will  be allowed to come back to North Carolina and proceed with your normal life.”

“That's what they always say. I’m not going to risk anymore more of  my family’s well being. We are not going with you.”

“Unfortunately Alistair, that is not exactly an option…” Rufus stated calmly, taking a step forward. “Your testimony is crucial to-”

Alistair whipped out his gun and pointed it forward, straight towards Rufus’s chest. “We’re not coming,” he declared.  Call watched as the other four unsheathed their weapons and briefly contemplated how an all-out duel might play out between them all. His brain attempted to make a few calculations before simply settling on a single word: badly. It would turn out really badly. 

Rufus raised a hand to stop any of the people behind him from doing anything they would regret, and took yet another daring step forward. The muzzle of Alistair’s gun was now placed firmly against his chest, but he showed no fear. 

His furrowed brows cast a dark shadow over his eyes, but there wasn’t a single trace of hesitation in his actions. Rufus remained perfectly calm as he looked into Alistair’s eyes. “Put the gun down Alistair, I know you will not shoot me.”

The air itself seemed to freeze as his father contemplated the words spoken. Each of his friends’ faces were ashen and so very tense. If his heart had been like it usually was, Call was sure it would have been hammering away in his chest. 

    “Dad, let's just go, it's not that big of a deal.” Call said, in hopes of slightly placating his father. They were all weary from Dracula’s castle, there was no need for anymore violence. 

Alistair turned in Call’s direction when he spoke, but he seemed to look through him, rather than at him. His grey eyes reflected haunted scenes from a life Call previously had no idea existed. A life that contained memories of the mother he never knew, and perhaps, a father too. 

Rufus gently put his hand on top of Alistair’s and pulled the gun from his grip. His father didn’t resist. He stood as still as a corpse, his eyes downcast as Rufus did away with the firearm. Call stood still too, until he heard a vile whisper reach his ears.

    “What’s wrong with him?” Jasper asked Tamara and Aaron, motioning with his eyes toward Alistiar. Aaron shrugged, sheathing his sword and Tamara finally extinguished her magic.

    “I don’t know,” she said. 

Call felt a surge of anger rush through him. What did any of them know about his dad, or anything he went through? Call himself barely knew anything; the only thing he did know was that most of what he thought he knew was probably a lie, but at the moment it didn't matter. How dare they?

Despite his fatigue, an electric shock jolted through him, sending purple bolts of lightning dancing around his hands. It was sheer power dancing on the tips of his fingers, desperate to be let free, desperate to destroy. Unlike the dark magic he had used before, Call could feel the strength in the magic he had now. He was no longer reliant on the souls of lesser demons, the strength of all of Hell’s hordes were literally his. If he put his mind to it, he could do anything with such power- heck, even world domination wasn’t far off.

Havoc barked and Call’s reverie shattered like a mirror into a thousand fragmented pieces. The magic on his hands evaporated as if it was never there. He didn't want to dominate the world. In fact, he didn't even want this power in the first place. This power was the reason Drew had gotten killed. Jasper had just been being stupid and rude like he usually was; he didn't deserve to be obliterated off the face of the earth. Well kind of, but not really. 

"Rufus, the gun was unloaded." Alistair said, not meeting his gaze. "If you want me to answer your questions, I'll need a new supply of holy bullets."

Rufus checked the cylinder, a slightly bemused look on his face. After ensuring it was indeed empty he cocked a brow at Alistair, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. It was as if he knew his dad would pull something weird like this. Like they were familiar with each other.

"And what exactly will you need holy bullets for now that you are out of Dracula's castle?"

Alistair's eyes shifted from the sky, to the trees, to the grass, and then finally back to the horizon. "Work."

 Rufus sighed, a brief but very intense moment of  exhaustion crossing his face; it disappeared just as quickly. "Ever the elaborate speaker… Well I suppose we can discuss the details once we arrive at the airplane. For now, I hope you wouldn't mind a little catching up. It's been years since I've seen you Alistair. " 

As they began to walk forward, Call made sure to linger just behind his father, to ensure the best hearing distance. He wasn't sure what was going to be said exactly, but he had a feeling his mother might come up. Maybe.

He wasn't in the mood to talk to the others right now anyway, he was honestly glad Master Rufus had interrupted when he had. After killing Drew, he didn't think he could dare to show his face to them, much less hold a coherent non-incriminating conversation. It wasn't like they were being overly talkative either, and the idea kind of felt like too much at the moment. 

"Why would I stay with an organization, who, after killing my wife, were planning to kill both me and my son?" Alistair asked through clenched teeth. After speaking, He glanced around worriedly, like he hadn't wanted Call to hear what he had just said. 

He pretended to mess with Havoc's collar, despite the fact he didn't have one, and continued limping forward softly when his dad seemed satisfied.

Rufus looked at him, shocked. Alistair hadn't even needed to be asked any questions. He seemed to know exactly what was on the forefront of Rufus's thoughts.  "I'm not sure what made you think that, but the Order has never taken such violent measures against anyone, especially not one its own members."

    “Do you even know who Graves is? If the Order hadn’t been founded on Judeo-Christian values, I’m sure he would have already gone on multiple killing sprees,” Alistair stated firmly. “The man is an absolute lunatic, and so is anyone who follows him.”

Jasper coughed loudly at Alistair’s brash statement, but everyone seemed more interested in Rufus’s response than anything else.

    Rufus rubbed his temples, clearly trying to subdue an oncoming headache. “If you are referring to the people he sent behind you after you fled Ecclesia, then I hope you are aware they were sent to help you, not hunt you down Alistair.”

A sardonic smile made its way onto Alistair’s lips. “How about we check the validity of that statement with Master Lemuel. If my memory serves me correctly, he should remember quite a bit about the situation, considering the fact he was present.”

All the children turned towards the unsuspecting target with an intense curiosity, while Rufus gazed at him with desperation. A desperation for the given statement to be proven wrong. 

    “Cardinal G-Graves always acts with the best intention for the Order,” Lemuel spit out, glaring at Alistair. “He’s never done anything wrong!”

Alistair shook his head, like he had expected a similar answer, but was still disappointed to hear him say it out loud. Rufus too, bore a crestfallen expression, but it was quickly replaced by confusion.

    “If this is all true, then I must ask why you are simply going along with me. You’ve always been stubborn, why have you chosen to go back to Ecclesia now?” Rufus searched Alistair’s face for a moment, worry further creasing his already furrowed brows. “What exactly is it you’re planning, Alistair Hunt?”

Chapter Text

Call never heard the answer he himself wanted so desperately to hear; they just had to be interrupted by yet another new person. Honestly the arrival of so many new people was setting off a lot of alarms in his head. What if one of them had the uncanny ability to stare at someone and discover their species? Even if that was unrealistic, his teeth were so sharp now, it didn’t take Einstein to see they weren’t as they should be. It was probably only a matter of time before he ended up caught. Call wondered how Drew had gone about his day to day life when he had been a vampire in Ecclesia. 

    “Hello?”

Call looked up from his thoughts and found the entire group of people staring at him. The only person who wasn’t looking was his dad, who looked to be just as lost in thought as he had been seconds ago. 

    “Uhm, Hi,” he rasped, rather confusedly. After a moment of awkward silence, Call tried clearing his throat.  “Is someone gonna tell me why all of you guys are staring at me now?”

Tamara looked at him exasperatedly, like she had expected him to be slightly smarter. Call mentally shrugged, he was currently dealing with the realization that he had murdered an innocent person, and the fact that he was actually a blood-sucking monster that belonged in Hell. Those were probably the best excuses he had for not doing anything. “Alex was literally talking to you for the past five minutes. Did you not hear any of that?” 

Call gave “Alex” a once over and sighed to himself. Tall, athletic, and definitely fully capable of taking him down. Maybe even taking Alistair down, if he went at him at the right angle. Why had his dad agreed to going to the Order of Ecclesia? Call was sure a million more muscle-men like Alex and Aaron were awaiting them there, and that couldn't end up good. All they had to do was walk a few steps through the forest and they would be back home. He wanted to take a nap and then he could think about everything.

"Earth to squirt, you still in there?"

"There never was a squirt in here in the first place." Call said, frowning. A weak response, he knew that, but no part of him really seemed to care. Tamara looked like she wanted to say something too, but Alex was quick to speak before her.

"Simmer down,” Alex said in a pacifying voice. “I was just saying earlier that I could help you get to the Tempest , if you needed it, since you look the most injured."

"What's the Tempest?" he asked, focusing only on the single word he had heard that had nothing to do with him. Hopefully if he ignored his injuries everyone else would too, afterall he already could feel his skin trying to mend itself. His regenerative powers had already been excellent, and now his increased power doubled their efficiency.

"The Deadly Tempest is an airplane that has been within the Strike family for years, Callum. Alex has allowed us to borrow it for the time being, for which we are all very grateful." Rufus answered. 

    “Oh, right,” Call mumbled. A quarter of his brain had wanted to ask where exactly they were flying to, but the higher the sun rose into the sky, the more drowsy he began to feel. He really needed to wake himself up because If Ecclesia was out of the country, he was at an even higher risk of being found out. 

But the opportunity was lost as  Alex, much to his chagrin, asked once again if Call needed any help and only after firmly declining him did the older boy slink back to Rufus’s side. Apparently Alex had been waiting for them back at their rental car, but when they had taken longer than he expected, Alex had gone ahead and came to check things out himself. Call had listened to the conversation half-heartedly, while he tried to think of a way of asking Alistair if they could just head home. 

Slowing his walking speed down only helped ease the pain in his leg, making it seem less deliberate and more natural. It wasn’t long until both Call and Alistair were lingering at the end of their party. 

    “Dad?” Call whispered, nudging him as discreetly as possible, “Why do we really have to go to Ecclesia?”

    Alistair looked at Call with his eyebrows slightly turned upwards, but his jaw set. Call had learned years ago that this expression meant his father felt sympathetic to some extent, but wasn’t going to answer him with anything of value. “Our time there will be brief at most. We’ll tolerate it together.”

Call sighed, too tired to push for the real reason. He had expected such an answer, but still, after being so obviously averse to the idea before, he was surprised his dad was just going with it. Alistair could really be very obstinate when he wanted to be, which meant that he either really did want to go to Ecclesia, or he really was planning something, like Master Rufus had said. Call was almost one hundred percent sure it was the latter. 

Suddenly, Alistair whirled on him and grabbed ahold of his shoulders firmly. It was in that instant that Call realized just how far they had fallen back from the group. 

    “Listen to me Callum,” Alistair said, his voice still hushed. “You were kidnapped by Joseph and he beat you until you were unconscious. He was asking for something you can’t remember. That is what you will tell Rufus when he interrogates you, okay?”

The sheer amount of unbridled urgency in his father’s voice made him nod his head compliantly without a second thought. He already knew he couldn’t tell anyone the truth about what happened, it was just far too risky. Now, he didn’t know why Alistair wanted him to state an abridged version of what happened, unless he himself knew Call’s secret… Or if maybe, he had a secret of his own.

    “Wait, dad, uhm, there's kinda’ been this weird thing going on lately, uh, I’m-”

    “Alistair, Callum, please try to keep pace with the group.” Master Rufus said, somehow instantaneously appearing in his peripheral vision. Call turned, staring at the man with owlishly-round eyes. Had he said a word more, he might have sent himself to an early death.

Alistair’s gaze lingered on him for a moment, before he grunted in an affirmative way and continued walking forward as if they hadn’t been holding a conversation at all. Call followed after them both numbly. 

He felt terrified. It wasn’t the fact that  Master Rufus had almost overheard something that might possibly change history that scared him so much, but the fact that his body didn’t react at all. No racing heart, no sweaty palms, no shortness of breath; there was nothing. It was like he was living in a corpse. 

After their brief discussion, it didn’t take more than a few minutes before they made it to the main road, where the rental car had been parked. Because they hadn’t expected three extra people, that was of course including Havoc, the seating arrangement was rather tight. Master Lemuel took the driver’s seat, and Master Rufus took the passenger seat, Alistair and Alex sat in the captain’s chairs, and the remaining four of them sat in the back seats, with Havoc sitting on top of them all. 

The minivan was, to say in the least, cramped. Call was stuck on the edge sitting next to Aaron while Tamara and Jasper were squished between the next two seats. Considering the overall dinginess of the car, Call wasn’t surprised at the rough ride they started out with. Every pothole, ditch, and bump on the road sent them bouncing off the walls and each other; it was probably the fifth time he had fallen into Aaron’s feverishly warm body, and he was really starting to get worried that Aaron could feel how not-warm his body was. Not to mention the fact that Jasper kept scooting closer to the blonde for some reason. Tamara didn’t have rabies, in fact she seemed safer to sit by then Aaron, who looked as if he was going to implode at any second. 

    “Can you stop?” Call hissed, leaning forward so he could glare at Jasper. 

Jasper scowled at him, clearly unaffected by his glare. 

    “I’m just trying to give Tamara her lady space .” 

Call was almost sure Tamara herself would have had something to say about her own “lady space” if she had been awake, but ever since they had entered the car she had shut her eyes. Somehow, the bumpy road didn’t seem to bother her either. 

    “What about our ‘lady’ space?” 

Jasper looked like he wanted to roll his eyes, or maybe punch Call, but a single look from Aaron got him to actually scoot a few centimeters away. The blonde deserved a medal for all the different times he had put up with Jasper and his attitude. 

 Call wanted to thank him, and not just for his efforts to get rid of Jasper, but for everything he had done in the castle. Aaron had saved him countless times, helped him even more than that, and when he had needed it most, he had been a comfort to him. “Not all vampires are evil” he had said, and Call could tell he had really believed it...He didn’t know if he still believed it after everything had happened. In fact, he wasn't sure how he felt about himself after all that had happened, but in the least Call wanted to say something similar to the blonde.

Call desperately bit back a bitter frown. The best thing he could do to Aaron was to expose himself. He deserved whatever was coming his way. Alistair, for whatever reason, was set on taking them to the foothold of the enemy; it would only behoove Call to turn himself in once they got there. After all, what better way could he help Aaron but by ending the entire Dracula conflict. 

The Order would probably tear him apart with a holy whip and then douse him in Tamara’s holy fire while he was tied to a stake, but honestly,  that was the easy part. All he had to do was die and then everyone would be happy- and what was a more fitting ending for him then that? He had brutally stolen Drew’s life, wasn’t it only fair Ecclesia stole his too?

Before he had time to really contemplate the car thudded to a stop and lurched forward, signalling the end of their ride. It only took the following moment for them to file out of the car one by one, like they were a group of chained prisoners on their way to the Château d'If. 

The Deadly Tempest was just as impressive as Call had imagined it, with shiny golden stripes running down the main body, and flame decals decorating the wings, rudders, and elevators. It looked like something he would have died over at the age of six, and a tiny part of him was still exclaiming at seeing the awesome looking private-jet, but the little mirth he felt seemed to trickle away as each second passed. The interior would have been even more enthralling, with its sleek design, and technological advancements: The chairs alone could recline in three different directions. Everything was luxurious, golden, and shiny; it was like he had stepped out of Asheville, North Carolina and into El Dorado. But still, nothing was bright enough to shine away his despairing thoughts. Drew's sudden death couldn't be forgotten just because of some shiny bright plane.

    Before he could get anywhere, Alex put a gentle hand on his shoulder and steered him towards one of the inner rooms. When Call gave him one of the most perturbed and disgusted looks he could muster, the older boy lifted his hands upwards, as if to show he was a danger to no one. “Hey, look, I don’t want you bleeding out all over the jet, okay? I’m just gonna do some basic first aid. Everyone else is gonna get it done too.” 

Call looked longingly at the cock-pit for a moment, and then to his dad, who seemed to be watching their interactions closely, and then back towards Alex. With a resigned sigh, he mentally shrugged and limped forward. 

Before entering, Alex caught Call’s arm and inspected his fingers. “That's a nice looking ring you’ve got, looks kind of familiar, actually…”

Call swallowed roughly and stared at the foreign object resting on his thumb. He had never seen this ring before Alex’s mention of it, nor had he ever owned such a thing before entering Dracula’s castle… which probably meant it was some demonic relic of destruction he had accidentally carried out into the real world. 

    “Uh, thanks. My dad got it for me a few years ago for my birthday, 'cause he likes antiques, and you know, popular model and all.” Call cleared his throat awkwardly, “You’ve probably seen something familiar at a local garage sal-”

Alistair appeared at his back like a silent shadow and spoke up, saving Call from his mess of a story. 

    “The ring is a popular design from the early 2000s, I’m sure you’ve seen it before,” and then he smoothly continued. “And while I appreciate the thought, Callum'll get checked by the professionals. He's, uh, sensitive. Got lots of allergies.”

    “Its not a problem-” Alex started.

    “Thanks kid,” Alistair said, as he steered Call back towards the lounge chairs. 

Alex stared at them both for a moment, clearly flabbergasted, and at a complete loss at how to actually proceed. He fiddled with a lock of his wavy brown hair and then beckoned Aaron, Tamara, and Jasper into the side room. As Call watched them all disappear, he desperately hoped they hadn't overheard Alistair’s excuse to keep him from getting first aid.

 Call nudged him with his elbow tactfully and scrunched up his nose to show his distaste for his dad’s most recent excuse. The faintest touch of rose dusted Alistair cheeks and the corner of his lips flashed upwards, as if to say ‘just go along with it’, and Call really did have no choice but to comply. Everything Alistair had done up to this moment had been unwittingly in favour of keeping his identity a secret. 

Call shook his head, he knew nothing about anything right now. He was better off sleeping, and then trying to come to sensible conclusions later. After sitting down in the fancy recliners, he found his wish almost granted promptly. Within seconds of resting his chin on his upright palm, he felt his eyes dropping lower and lower until they were completely shut.

Alistair was quick to notice the inconvenient position his son had fallen asleep in. With his neck twisted the way it was, Call was sure to wake up with a painful crick in his neck. After glancing around suspiciously for a moment, Alistair scooted closer to his son and gently moved his head onto his shoulder, in a way that was gentle enough to not wake him. He didn't stir at all.

Call had gone to sleep almost immediately, and while it could be excused for exhaustion from their journey, Alistair had a sinking feeling it had a bit more to do with him being inhuman. 

Vampires were nocturnal creatures, they thrived in the darkness of the night and shriveled away at the first sign of dawn. The only reason Call had pulled through was thanks to the magic ring Constantine had created during his time as a vampire; it protected him from being incinerated by UV rays released by the sun, kept his skin looking pink and healthy, and allowed him to bypass all of Ecclesia's vampire barriers. It had been the number one reason Constantine had gone unchallenged for so long. And, if things went to plan, it would also be the main reason Call would hopefully remain undetected himself.

Before he could stifle it, a large yawn escaped from his mouth making him realize just how tired his body was. Years ago, such a trip wouldn’t have even made him break a sweat, yet here he was almost dozing off as quickly as Call had. At the thought, Alistair found his eyes drifting over to his son’s sleeping form. 

When he wasn’t angry or scowling, Call looked exactly like his mother. The curve of his lips, the shape of his eyes, the way he laughed. Even the way he acted reminded Alistair of the things Sarah had once done, oh so many years ago: Impulsive, not the most well thought out, but almost always well-intentioned. 

A sharp pull at his leg tore his attention from his reminiscing and brought it down to the airplane floor. Havoc sat, staring at him, his tail thumping back and forth expectantly. 

    “No, stay down.” Alistair muttered in a low voice. 

Havoc wagged his tail even more when Alistair had spoken. Before he could say another word, Havoc leapt onto the chair, attempted to lick his face, and then seated himself nicely in Alistair’s lap. By the time the wolf had seated himself comfortably, Alistair had said so many “downs” and “nos” that both Rufus and Lemuel had turned around to look at him. Seeing as their attention was now on him, Alistair quickly looked towards the window and feigned indifference. 

He spent so long pretending to be indifferent, he eventually found himself dozing off. With his head resting on the top of Call's and Havoc acting as a warm blanket, Alistair had to reluctantly admit this was the most relaxed he had felt in a very long while. The duration of the plane ride evaporated into seconds while he napped, and when the plane landed it seemed as if he had only closed his eyes for a few seconds. Alistair gently nudged Call to wake him, his mind still groggy having only woken up a few seconds before him.

They had arrived at the Order of Ecclesia. Alistair took a moment to stare upon the familiar building where he had spent so much of his time as a youth. It had barely changed at all since the time he could last remember it. Ecclesia was a massive structure with spiralling white turrets and massive snowy towers that offered views of the entire state of Virginia. Once upon a time, Alistair had seen the entire structure as a beacon of hope, with its bright appearance and awe-inspiring architecture; now, however, all he saw was a prison, yet another blemish on the surface of the earth.  

Call blinked his eyes blearily, but it was completely replaced by astonishment as he caught sight of the massive structure. Alistair noticed his jaw drop in awe at the sheer grandeur of the building and vaguely remembered  a similar reaction from himself all those years ago. 

They each got off of the plane one by one. Each person, for their own individual reasons, dallying and spacing off as if they couldn’t bear to step inside the building itself. It was only when Rufus rallied them into a small group and led them forward did they begin to drift towards the entrance. 

The entrance to Ecclesia was more accurately described not as doors, but as a highly fortified frontline. Standing over one hundred feet above them, was a cast-iron gate plated in a delicate gold that seemed to glow in the light of dawn. Two angel statues clothed in white robes stood on either side of it, their spears held by their sides at the ready, and over a dozen men stood by their feet, lounging carelessly. Alistair remembered when he and Constantine had been worked at the front gate. They had ended up causing enough trouble in the two hours they had guarded the door, to be forced on lunch duty for the rest of the school year. 

A sad smile stretched across his lips at the memory, but it disappeared as he was hurriedly ushered into the building. Alistair watched as Rufus escorted the current Belmont and Belnades down another hallway, and Lemuel took charge of their small group. He barely had time to reminisce as they were whisked down the hallway and into the infirmary. 

The room was narrow with several sets of navy cloth sheets separating each patient from one another. It too had fought against the test of time, maintaining a near identical appearance to the way his memories recalled it. The number of times he had laid in these beds could have counted far above one hundred. 

    “Check all of their blood. Make sure no vampire gets in,” Lemuel whispered loudly into the attending floor nurse’s ear. When the short lady looked at him, clearly disturbed he hastily added, “And, uh, treat their injuries of course. I’ll return once my report is finished.” 

As soon as Lemuel was out of sight, the short nurse walked up to them and smiled sweetly. Her name tag read ‘Sarita’.

“Hey y’all, the clinic’s empty right now, so pick any curtain and change into the hospital gown on the bed. I’ll come check on each one of you individually once you’re ready.” when Call audibly gulped, she turned her sickeningly sweet smile to him. “I know you’ve been through a lot sweetie, but it's okay now. You’re safe here.”

Alistair almost laughed at the irony. 

    “Uh, excuse me lady,” the Asian boy interrupted. “I’m not a vampire, I literally go to this school. I don’t need to be tested and since I’m not injured I think I should be allowed to go back to my own room and-”

“Just wait for me to take your blood toots , and you’ll be free to go.”

The Asian boy crossed his arms and looked away, clearly still unhappy with the outcome, but powerless to do anything about it. 

    “Okay,” the boy said, his angry glare resting on Call for a moment before he turned and entered into the nearest curtain. Call stared after the boy’s back for a moment, and then turned to look at Alistair. With a shared nod they both entered into their separate curtain dividers. 

After changing into the thin hospital gown, Alistair sat on the edge of his bed and waited for the nurse to come check his injuries. He was glad that Sarita had been the only nurse present because if it had been Amaranth, who happened to be very familiar with him, she would most definitely see through his tricks. 

Alistair heard the lady shuffle around a bit, before finally checking on Call and asking him a myriad of medical questions. Once she finished questioning, Call seemed to have thought of a question of his own. 

    “So, how can you tell from someone's blood if they’re a vampire? Is their blood black or something?” 

The Asian boy coughed loudly from across the room.

    “Well,” Sarita began, “Unlike human blood vampire blood is a different colour, but we don’t test it by looking at the pigment. Colour isn’t really reliable. Instead we test the blood by sticking it underneath a UV light. Human blood will remain at a normal temperature and vampire blood will begin to shoot up in temperature almost immediately.” 

Alistair could imagine the look Call had on his face: probably slightly shocked and more than a little worried. 

    “Oh, right.”

    “Good question!” 

Call didn’t respond to her praise and Sarita didn’t wait for his response either, she quickly crossed the curtains with her multitude of smiles. 

    “Quite the smart boy you’ve got yourself there,” she said by way of greeting. 

Alistair half-smiled at the compliment, and went back to staring at the curtains listlessly. Sarita cleared her throat in an effort to clear the awkward atmosphere, and plastered another smile onto her face. That was probably exhausting.

    “Well, the good news is that your son has no major injuries. He is bruised and scraped up, but he won't need any stitches.”

“I see,” Alistair said calmly. Just a few hours ago, Call would have been considered an emergency room patient, but now just a few hours of sleep was enough to regenerate the most severe injuries he had sustained. That was beyond a mere vampire’s capabilities, that was the power of Dracula himself. 

“So when you were in the castle was there any-”

“I haven’t been stabbed, I’m not bleeding out anywhere, and I did not hit my head on anything. With a few bandaids and a little rest, I think I should be okay.”

    Sarita looked at Alistair, her eyes wide and began to scribble on her clipboard silently. “I understand, you feel okay, but I’m still gonna check your labs after I’ve done the blood test, alright? Just to make sure we haven’t missed anything.”

Alistair grunted an affirmation and waited for her to finish scribbling, his fingers tapping on his leg to an unheard tune. He knew what he had to do, it was just that it had been so long since he had pulled something like this. The last time he had, Constantine had been by his side- Sarah too. In fact, by doing this he was protecting the rest of their lives from Ecclesia’s probing fingers. They would never suspect Call of being a vampire again if his plan went well. 

By the time he was finished hyping himself up, Sarita had already exited and re-entered his curtained area again, a test tube rack in her hand. Two of the vials were already filled with blood and adorned with a sticker with each person’s respective name. Alistair hoped that meant the Asian boy had left. 

Sarita was quick and efficient when she drew his blood. She stuck him and then covered the open skin with a heart band-aid, smiled and made her way out of the curtain.

 As soon as she was gone, Alistair silently dashed into Call’s enclosure and looked him straight in the eye. 

    “You were feeling nauseous, tried to get off your bed, and tripped.” Alistair whispered without any warning. 

    “What?”

    “Keep her in here as long as you can,” Alistair said, pulling up his sleeves. 

    “Wait- Dad- what-” Call began, but his voice was lost in the sound of panicked beeping as Alistair slammed the nearest machines into the floor. Alistair left just as soon as he had come, leaving Call to look after him, disturbed. 

Once he was back in his own enclosure, he waited until he saw Sarita’s feet rush past his curtain before exiting once again, only this time on the opposite side of his curtain. A few curtain rooms away stood a counter where the unattended tube-rack sat. Alistair dashed noiselessly towards it and vaguely overheard Call stutter out the excuse he had given him seconds before. 

He didn’t have time to listen, he had to work fast. He hastily picked up all three vials of blood and  switched the stickers of his own and Call’s name. He hid the real vial of Call’s blood in his hospital gown, and gently set the test tube rack on its side on the floor. He glanced at the remaining vial in his hand, and shrugged, ‘Jasper’ would also unfortunately have to be pricked again. He tossed the remaining vial of blood onto the ground sloppily and watched it shatter around the scene messily. 

“What happened out here?” Sarita cried, rushing out and looking at him with wide frantic eyes.

“B-Bathroom,” Alistair lied, his hand over his mouth “I need a- a bathroom, I’m going to vomit.” 

For a split second he caught the slightest flash of disbelief cross the woman’s face and decided to up his acting a bit. Without wasting a second he began gagging repulsively, while letting saliva dip freely from his mouth. When she still didn’t move he let his forced convulsions bring him to the ground as he painfully tried to expel whatever was left in his stomach. 

    “Oh my goodness! What has come over the two of you?” she asked no one in particular as she quickly moved to his side to rub his back soothingly. “Both of you feeling nauseous, and here you are vomiting. Did you eat anything suspicious in the castle?”

Alistair felt his thin frame shake with the exertion of his actions, and hoped it only added to his plight. “A-amanita, the- the mushroom… I was- I was so hungry.”

A brief look of understanding crossed the woman’s face and she patted his back pitifully. 

    “Oh you poor things.”

    “I-I’m sorry about dropping the blood, I didn’t mean to,” he added weakly. In reality, he was actually watching for her reaction very carefully. 

    “Well, one vial did survive,” she said, a small smile on her lips. She picked up the vial and read its name thoughtfully. “Well, unfortunately for you, I will have to prick you again, but at least I won’t have to prick your sweet boy again.”

    “Th-That's good,” Alistair agreed, careful to keep his façade up. 

Sarita smiled another of her sugared smiles and led Alistair back to his bed. She drew his blood once again, and told him to rest a bit before trying to get up. Alistair agreed complaisantly, and waited until she was gone to get up and check on Call once again. 

When he entered Call's curtain again, his son looked up at him, clearly alarmed. Almost as if he was waiting for him to destroy some more hospital equipment. 

Alistair approached him gently, leaned on the edge of his stretcher, and gave him a reluctant smile.

Call had bandages wrapped loosely around his head, making his already tangled hair stick out even more. He had a few bandaids on his face, and even more hidden underneath his hospital gown. On top of it all, he seemed thinner and more tired, almost like he was carrying the weight of the entire world on his shoulders. Alistair would make sure he never would have to bear that weight.

"How're you feeling?"

"I," Call paused, taking in a deep breath of air even though he no longer needed it. Alistair guessed he was still in the habit of it. "I’ve been better." 

He nodded his head. “Yeah, well, we’ll both be out of here as soon as the blood tests come back negative…” Their eyes met, an unsaid thought passing between them. “Has she checked your labs yet?”

When Call shook his head, Alistair let out a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding.

    “Good, you still have a chance to leave the infirmary then.”

    Call gave his father a perplexed look. “Leave? Where am I supposed to go?”

    “Wander around Ecclesia until you find one of those kids you met in the castle. Tell em’ you’ve been discharged and need a room to spend the night in. They should be accommodating enough.”

    “But, dad, I’m literally wearing a hospital gown. Won’t they all think I’m a hospital escapee or some-”

    “Explaining why you left the infirmary versus explaining why you have no heartbeat. Which do you think has a more believable explanation?”

Call stared at his father like he was an alien with three different heads.

    “Go,” he whispered, as they heard Sarita begin to mess with some equipment at the front of the clinic. 

The boy simply nodded, his voice caught in his throat. He slipped off his stretcher, and did his best to hastily exit as quietly as possible. 

“Take care Callum,” Alistair whispered, as his son disappeared outside the curtain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Call ran down the dark hallway as fast as his bad leg could carry him. It wasn’t that Sarita was chasing him, or that he had any real reason to be running, but there was something terribly unsettling about Alistair acknowledging the fact he was a vampire. He was lucky to have him, and even luckier to have his dad working in his favour to protect his secret, but for some reason he still felt like hiding away in a dark cave for a millennia. 

 Ecclesia’s hallways were devoid of both light and people, and before Call realized it, he had gotten himself lost. He had taken two lefts, which meant if he were to backtrack he needed to take two rights...That was how backtracking worked wasn't it? Call nodded to himself and attempted to follow his mental map only to end up at yet another pair of crossroads.  Shrugging, he went ahead and took another right, and another, until the hallway only had an option to turn left. He wished Havoc had come with him to explore Ecclesia instead of choosing to stay and sleep with his dad in the infirmary. The dog somehow had an amazing sense of direction whenever it came to it. 

Call sighed once again, ready to give up, but a bright light just around the corner caught his attention.  Where there was light there were humans, and that was exactly what he was looking for. Just, not someone like Lemuel, or Master Rufus. They seemed a little too observant for his liking. 

The closer he got to the light, the more he was able to pick out a distant thudding sound, like something was repeatedly being slammed into the ground… or someone. Call peeked around the edge of the wall, careful not to be seen, and gazed into the brightness of the room. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the light, but once they had, he felt himself stagger backwards.

Just his luck to accidentally enter some sort of armoured-war room. Weapons of all kinds decorated the red brick walls, a mini shooting-range was even set up in the right of the room accompanied by a myriad of athletic equipment. It looked to be less of a “war-room” and more of a training room. But the contents of the room itself could matter less than the person within it: Aaron stood alone, slamming his fists into a punching bag that looked ready to bust. He had been the source of the thudding sound. 

Something caught in Call’s throat at the sight of Aaron. Neither Tamara nor Jasper stood at his side; he stood within the large empty room isolated from everyone and everything and his expression, from what could be seen at least, looked utterly devastated: his eyes were narrowed, his nose scrunched up. That couldn’t be right though, Aaron never got mad, or anything like that… That was solely the reason why he was the hero because he never lost himself to anything much less his own emotions.

Call took a step forward, ready to call out to the blonde, but another person entered at the last second causing him to shrink back behind the wall and hide. 

    “Aaron,” Master Rufus said, entering into Call’s line of vision. “You’ve just returned after a very long and difficult battle. Don’t you think you have ought to give yourself a bit of a rest?”

Aaron didn’t stop hitting the punching bag at Rufus’s arrival, in fact he seemed to hit it even harder if anything. “I don’t need to stop,” he said through quick short breaths. “I’m a Belmont. Practically instant regeneration, remember?”

“Ah, yes, I had almost forgotten that fact. Just as you have seemed to forget how to speak to people properly.”

Aaron punched the bag so hard, it slammed into the wall and split sending tiny particles of sand all over the room. For a moment both of them stood there, staring at the broken bag in complete silence. It was Aaron that spoke first. 

    “Well, I’m sorry that I’m not speaking properly- I,” his voice cracked painfully, like he was trying to desperately hold the broken pieces of himself together. “I don’t really know what you want me to say right now.”

    “I want you to be honest with yourself Aaron. You are being a hero to no one when you deprive yourself of emotion.”

Aaron stared at Rufus, his eyes full of a thousand different grievances. For a second, Call thought he was going to raise his fist and punch Rufus, but he didn’t. He turned away, his hand covering his face and exhaled shakily.

    “I,” Aaron began, his voice trembling. “I failed him, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” 

Rufus didn’t say anything to defend himself, or even just to answer, he simply stood listening.

    “I promised I’d save him and then-” Aaron was crying then, Call realized, averting his eyes from the scene. Aaron's shoulders dropped, his voice broken...He was mourning the loss of a fellow student, of a friend. Call turned away fully, ashamed to have accidentally eavesdropped on such an intimate conversation. "He died for nothing- he wasn't Dracula's heir in the first place, he was just Drew...  He was always just Drew."

Rufus raised his bushy brows at the sudden influx of new information, but even despite it, he knew his first duty came as that of a mentor. He placed a hand on Aaron’s shoulder, and pulled him close. Rufus continued to remain quiet, but his actions spoke a hundred times for his words. 

“And the part that makes me the most mad is that there is still someone out there who planned all of this. Dracula’s real heir is still out there, probably laughing at how well everything turned out.” Aaron had calmed himself slightly since he had last spoken, but his voice was still thick with unnamed emotion. “That bastard deserves to die.”

    “Indeed-” Rufus began, but Call couldn’t bear to listen to either of them any longer. 

Him. He was the bastard that deserved to die. He tripped over his own feet in an effort to get away from the burning light. In an effort to escape their burning words. He was so focused on just getting away, he ended up running straight into a wall. The piece of paper that had originally been plastered there, stuck to his face annoyingly. He ripped it from his cheek and looked briefly at the front of it. Drew’s smiling face stared up at him unblinking. 

    “Ahh!” Call barely muffled his own scream in his throat as he flung the piece of paper as far as he could manage. The paper floated to the floor harmlessly, hiding most of its contents in the darkness. Call was only able to read the bottom description, “Drew Wallace” and “Perfect Attendance!!”.

He stared at the paper, in pure horror. Even though Drew’s photo was covered in darkness, he could still feel the boy’s pale blue eyes on him. He could still hear him begging for his life.

    “Call?”

Call spun around, and looked up, hopeful for a friendly face. Jasper stared down at him, a frown marring his features. 

Upon seeing who it was, he immediately tried to relax and pretend to have been sitting there with the intention of just being there. Because normal people just up and sat down in the middle of dark hallways. In reality, the very last thing he wanted to do was end an already horrible day by accidentally looking vulnerable in front of Jasper of all people. 

    Swallowing his previous shock, Call did his best to downplay his emotions. “Oh, Jasper, it's just you, uh, you can leave now, I’m just sitting here. Waiting for Tamara or Aaron to pass by,” he did his best to avert his eyes as he muttered the blonde’s name, “To, you know, gimme’ directions or something.”

Jasper sauntered towards him, clearly upset.

    “Leave? You think I’m gonna leave ? Yeah, let me just leave the vampire who caused this entire mess alone again! Let's just see what else he’ll do!” Jasper was much closer, and his fist was quick to latch onto the front of his shirt. He roughly pulled Call up to his feet. “Maybe, after killing Drew, you’ll kill Aaron too! I dunno, maybe I should just leave you alone!”

    Call grabbed ahold of Jasper’s wrist and looked him straight in the eye. “I didn’t kill Drew! It wasn’t my fault, I-”

    “Oh, you're a smart blood sucker aren’t you?” Jasper asked, no longer looking at his face, but at his hand. Specifically, the finger with the extravagant ring. “You didn’t kill Drew, but you still are wearing this ring to hide yourself, right?”

    “It's not like that, I woke up with this ring on! I don’t even know what it does- I literally don’t know anything about…” his voice trailed off as his ears pricked. Someone- No, Aaron and Rufus had began walking. They were probably making their way towards them at that very moment. Jasper’s head was inclined toward their direction. He had heard them too.

    “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t expose you to whoever is about to turn into this hallway.”

Call’s mind scattered. One reason, all he needed to do was think of one reason to convince Jasper that he wasn’t evil. 

    “Your dad,” Call said randomly. Jasper’s eyes narrowed into slits, and for a second Call was sure he was going to scream so he desperately added, “I’m Dracula, I could contact him if you wanted, or something.”

Jasper never got the chance to answer, Rufus and Aaron turned the corner the moment Call was able to spit out his last saving syllable. 

    “Callum Hunt, Jasper DeWinter.” Master Rufus greeted coldly. “If you cannot tell, it is ‘lights-out’ time within the Order of Ecclesia. Why are you not both in each of your beds respectively?”

    “Aaron’s not either,” Call pointed out, and instantly regretted as Jasper kicked him in the bad leg. 

    “We were just heading there sir,” Jasper amended, hooking his arm around Call’s neck like they were buddies. And then, after they had walked a good distance away, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked at him darkly. “Deal.”

Chapter Text

After the exhausting events that went on during the day, Call thought he would have been bone-tired, but by the time that Jasper had gotten him a spare room and given him the chance to settle in, he felt like his eyelids were taped open. No matter how many times he tried to shut them, he would eventually find himself staring at some odd crevice in the wall or something. The fact his mind seemed hellbent on thinking only about Drew, Dracula, and his imminent death, wasn't any more helpful. Honestly, Call didn’t really wanna think about anything anymore. Jasper had said they could discuss their ‘deal’ later, but he had really hoped they could have discussed it then.   

If he had any chance of going forward successfully with Jasper’s deal he needed to be sure about one fact: Drew’s death hadn’t been his fault… It had been Joseph’s. It had been Joseph’s fault since the beginning. He had no idea about the man’s plot, or why he decided to kill his own son, but it had undeniably been his actions that had killed Drew. If Aaron ever found out he was Dracula, and Call had enough life to explain himself, he would tell the blonde the same thing. But if Aaron didn’t find out, and he was somehow able to keep Jasper’s lips sealed as well, maybe they could stay friends.  

Callum shook his head, right after telling himself he wasn’t going to think about everything his mind went right ahead and did whatever it wanted. He wished he had something to distract himself with. A gameboy might be nice right about now, or maybe a playstation. For having such fancy and royal looking rooms, Ecclesia seemed to have a severe lack of technology. It was like he had been transported back into the late 1700s.

 His bed in the least felt like something akin to heaven. He had ten feathered pillows that cushioned his head, neck, and any other achy joints. The comforter was heavy and warm, and even though Call had little to no feeling when it came to temperature, he still felt rather cozy. It was probably the most perfect bed he ever slept in, and yet, for whatever reason, he just couldn’t fall asleep. 

He ended up tossing and turning for most of the majority of the night, and only when the faintest ray of light broke through the curtains and shone directly into his eyes did his mind finally let him get some rest. However, like all good things in the world, his brief rest came to an even quicker end.

 It only felt like he had been asleep for a few seconds, when he vaguely heard the door to his room open, and then slam shut. Call opened his eyes for a moment to glance at the intruder, but figured that anyone life-threatening couldn’t have gotten into Ecclesia in the first place, and pillowed his face in his arms instead. He could deal with them later.

    “Open your mouth and say ‘ah’,” the person- no, Jasper said, prodding a flat wooden stick down his throat. 

    “Ah,” Call complied tiredly, before his senses hit him, he spit the stick out and it landed on the other boy’s face. “What do you think you're doing sticking that thing in my mouth while I’m trying to sleep!?” 

    Jasper frowned and quickly removed the stick from his face, “I’m trying to make sure all of your vampiric qualities are hidden so when you talk to Master Rufus this afternoon you won’t accidentally expose yourself and ruin our deal from the get-go!”

Call sat up, crossing his arms and looked at the wall clock. It was barely half past nine, and here Jasper was knocking on his door with all his fancy books and weird looking suit-thing… Call decided to ignore it for the time being. 

    “My dad and I already talked about what to say to Master Rufus,” he explained grouchily, “and I don’t know what life-saving information you can find in my mouth .”

    “Fangs. I was looking to see if your fangs were out, but apparently they're not,  also one of the books mentioned that vampires have acid for saliva but I don’t really think its true… Hmmm, even your skin looks relatively healthy…” Jasper turned back to examine one of the many books he had brought into Call’s room and put a hand to his chin like a detective in a mystery movie. “The ring, it must be that ring! I remember learning about it, but it's shocking to see its effects in person… Take it off for a second, would you?”

Call shrugged and slipped the ring off his finger easily, and looked back towards Jasper for any further explanation. The Asian boy said nothing, his mouth gaping as he stared forward in fear.

    “L-look at yourself,” was all he was able to stutter out. “Monster…” the boy muttered in an even lower breath.

Call stood up from his bed and made his way over to the large vanity in the corner of the room, dread slowing his steps. He didn’t know what to expect after witnessing Jasper’s horrified expression, but he had a feeling whatever he was about to see would probably only serve to worsen his already ailing self-esteem. Ha, who was he kidding? That thing was long dead.

Call stared at the vanity, unblinkingly and then, very slowly did he blink. He blinked again after that, and again, desperate for the person in the mirror to disappear. Desperate for the illusion to fade away and show his human face again. It didn’t happen. No matter how he blinked, the image remained the same. 

His skin was white almost like snow- no, snow was too pure, too undefiled. His skin was grey, the colour of ash, or perhaps the colour of a tombstone. His eyes were a bright coppery red, and the very fangs he had once scorned hung over his own pale colourless lips. His nails had even turned black.

“I look like one of those guys that comes up when you google ‘emo guys’,” Call blurted after a second of staring. 

Jasper narrowed his eyes at him incredulously. “What is wrong with you? Don’t you realize that-”

Call looked at him, his eyes half lidded, his arms hanging at his side. 

“You know what, I’m not even gonna waste my breath.” The Asian boy said, throwing the ring at Call. “Just never take off this stupid ring off again.”

As soon as the cool metal of the ring touched Call’s skin, his appearance reverted back to the lively human looking version he had grown up with. He didn’t even have a chance to put the ring back onto his finger before the door to his room was once again thrown open, only this time it was both Tamara and Aaron standing at the entrance. 

All four exchanged looks for a moment, confused to see the other standing in their given places.

“I uh,” Aaron started clearly a bit bewildered, “I thought you guys didn’t like each other.” 

Tamara sighed, and flattened her pleated skirt out so it returned to looking prim and proper, even though Call hadn’t seen a wrinkle in it in the first place. “I don’t know what Aaron’s getting at, but we came because there was a presence in here, we felt it. An inhuman presence to be specific. Is there someone else in here with you two?”

Call and Jasper shared a cursory, yet intense glance with each other and immediately returned to looking at Tamara and Aaron. 

    “Yes,” Call said at the same time Jasper said, “No.”

Both boys stared at each other once again, a sense of urgency passing between them. 

“Havoc was in here a few minutes ago-” Call began.

“The nurse was in here, checking on Call’s head, even though in my opinion it's beyond saving, you know. He doesn’t have much of a chance either way,” Jasper said in one short breath, looking between Aaron and Tamara to check their expressions.

Tamara raised both of her eyebrows and crossed her arms, looking at them both disappointedly. Aaron scratched the back of his head and looked at them with as much sympathy as he could muster (which to Call looked like little to none).

    “Look guys, I really want to believe you but, you guys are acting so suspicious,” the blonde said, a truly worried expression adorning his face.

Call looked down at his feet and sighed heavily, catching the attention of everyone within the room. 

    “Honestly, no one was in the room, we were just making excuses because,” Call paused for a moment, making sure everyone was hooked onto the beginning of his story. “Because Jasper has actually been possessed by a demon from the castle and he didn’t want to tell you guys' cause he didn’t want to look lame even though he already kinda does most of the time. That's the truth.”

When Call lifted his head after having spun his elaborate lie, he found that Tamara of all people was nodding her head contemplatively like she actually believed him while Jasper and Aaron were staring at him incredulously. 

    “I guess it does make some sense,” shr said, looking at Jasper sadly. “Jasper was acting odd after we left the castle. He seemed unreasonably angry, and-”

    “What the actual heck Tamara! You can’t actually believe him !” Jasper exclaimed pointing at Call, and when she didn’t say anything he paled. “We were all upset after leaving the castle! Did you even see Aaron?!”

    “Poor Jasper,” Call lamented, hiding his laughter expertly, “If you guys hadn’t felt his demonic presence in here, I might actually believe that was really him talking to us right now and not the demon.”

“I didn’t know you could get possessed by demons…” Aaron muttered, looking at Jasper, like he was waiting for him to grow horns and a devil’s tail. “But if Tamara noticed it too then it must be true. I guess we shouldn’t listen to anything he says since it must be the demon talking.”

“That is literally the worst thing you could have said right now. Look, do you remember that one time Drew asked me for gum and I said no, and then when we were walking down the hallway you grabbed my shoulder and told me I should have given him a stick? You only told that to me, no one else could know that.”

“Guys, the demon is looking through Jasper’s memories. The time for action is now or never,” Call said, grabbing a hold of a spare bible with his gloved hand. “I’m not sure if hitting him with this will be enough to cast the demon out, but I seriously think it might make me feel better.”

“I swear I’m gonna-” Jasper started, but Aaron quickly grabbed one of his arms, effectively shutting him up.

“Jasper would never swear, I know he wouldn't, this demon must really be controlling him now. Well, nothing a little holy water can’t knock out,” the blonde said, beginning to walk towards the opened door with Jasper in tow. “We really owe it to you Call, if you hadn’t said anything I wouldn’t have even realized.”

“Did you even know me?!” Jasper demanded, flailing wildly in Aaron’s grip.

“If that doesn’t work, I’ll cast Sanctuary on him. That will knock it out of him.” Tamara added helpfully.

When both Aaron and Tamara were turned around, Call mouthed “Put on a good show” to him and watched in satisfaction as the boy’s eyes narrowed. 

“Oh yeah, of course,” Call said, a smirk painting his lips. “Jasper helped me so much, I just love the guy. I would do anything to help him out.” 

Aaron looked back at Call questioningly after that statement, and looked ready to say something, but Call, seeing that the trio had already stepped past the threshold to his room, quickly shut the door.

    “I gotta get ready for a meeting with Master Rufus!” he yelled at the door in explanation, before plopping back onto his bed and slipping the ring properly onto his finger. 

He eyed the books Jasper brought into his room with little to no interest, but after a few minutes of being stuck with his own thoughts he decided to try and read a few pages. He did still have quite a bit of time before the meeting with Rufus anyway. 

The first book he picked up was titled, Vampires 101, the guide to knowing your enemy, written by Jericho Madden and Declan Novak. It seemed knowledgeable enough. Call flipped through the pages glancing through each article with little to no interest. The book seemed  to have a lot of details about the lower-level vampires, as Call dubbed them, but nothing about Dracula himself. And sure, learning about the basics was helpful but he was pretty sure he mostly understood them now. What he really wanted to learn about was all of his new magic abilities. If he was stuck as a blood sucking monster, he might as well as embrace the whole package right?

Maybe he shouldn't have been feeling as optimistic as he was just yet, but just seeing Aaron and Tamara- especially Aaron- smiling and acting normal again left him with that feeling, even if he was aware of Drew’s death looming over them. Call flipped the page and paused for a moment as he read over the scrawl of text over and over. 

    “Vampires are creatures of the night, and as such follow a nocturnal sleeping schedule. This schedule follows that of a normal vampire bat, which coincides with the fact that Vampires are indeed able to shapeshift into their animal counterparts, although it has not been confirmed if they are able to transform into other animals such as wolves, and/or gases.”

Apparently he was able to turn into a vampire bat if he wanted, which would mean he would be able to fly. If he could fly, his leg wouldn’t slow him down anymore… Not that it was troubling him too much anymore. It was still shorter than his right leg, and it also still hurt sometimes, -despite the book clearly stating that vampire’s didn’t have a functioning or identifiable nervous system- but overall it definitely was less painful then it had been when he had been alive. Yet another good thing about being a vampire.

A soft knock from the doorway tore Call from his thoughts and he looked up, suspiciously. 

    “The door’s locked, I’m changing,” he called out from laying on his bed. 

    “Oh, uh, I brought you some breakfast,” Aaron said from the other side of the door.

Call hurriedly shoved the vampire books underneath his covers and straightened himself out on his bed. He might have still been wearing a hospital gown, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t look a little put together.

    “It's unlocked in that case!” 

Aaron entered carefully after that, looking at Call curiously. “Was the door even locked in the first place?”

“Nope,” Call answered without missing a beat.

Aaron shook his head, smiling like he was already used to the other boy's antics. In his hands were two plates filled to the brim with an array of different breakfast items: golden croissants drizzled with honey, fresh crispy bacon, two sunny-side-up eggs. Call almost drooled at the aroma of it all, he was famished. 

"Dude, the chefs here better be paid six figures because this food literally tastes like it was made by Jesus."

Call watched as Aaron set the plate down on his lap like he was serving him breakfast in bed and then moved to sit down on the edge of the bed himself, grinning.

"You really think so?"

"Oh yeah," he answered, devouring the croissant in a single mouthful. Each crispy layer of flaky buttered dough was coated with just enough honey to delight one's taste buds and bring about pure happiness. At least that was how Call felt after eating it… 

Other than the weird dead body thing, the thing Call had been most afraid about was his eating habits. Would he still be able to enjoy human food, or was he cursed to drink blood for the rest of his life? That wasn't to say that Aaron didn't smell amazing and that he didn't want to stick his fangs in his neck and-

Call swallowed his food abruptly; he was not going to drink anyone's blood: not Jasper's, not Tamara's, and especially not Aaron's. He may be Dracula, but he was not Joseph. He was not going to act like a monster, even if he was one.

"-I guess I just got good with practice, but I still don't think I've seen anyone enjoy my cooking as much as you."

Call tuned into the later half of Aaron's comment, and felt his eyes bulge. 

"Wait- so you made all of this food by yourself? " And when the blonde nodded, Call pressed further too. "And you made all that stuff I ate in the castle?"

“Yeah, I did," Aaron said, laughing slightly. "Ecclesia forces everyone to take cooking class, so we all eventually become good."

 Call shook his head, a mischievous smile decorating his lips. "I'll bet you five bucks Jasper still can't cook."

"I don't have any money," Aaron admitted, a foreign emotion passing across his face. It disappeared so quickly, Call supposed he must have imagined It.

"Me neither, actually," he said, looking down at that god-awful teal hospital gown he was still wearing.

 Aaron scratched his chin in thought for a moment, before his face lit up as a metaphorical light bulb lit above his head. "I got it! If I win, you can cook me dinner, and if you win, I'll cook you dinner. How about that?"

"The only person I've ever fed is Havoc...but I hope you know I'm probably not gonna lose."

"I wish I could say something confident back, but this is Jasper we're talking about... " 

Call covered his face with his hands as he erupted into laughter. Even Aaron, the saviour of mankind, and someone who Call knew to be as the most blindingly trustful person ever, didn't believe in Jasper's ability to cook. 

"Speaking of which," Call began after catching his breath and then scarily realizing he had no breath to catch, "Were you and Tamara able to exorcise Jasper?"

Aaron, who had already finished his breakfast, fell on his back and proceeded to stare at the roof of his canopy bed. "Kinda… When we got out the holy water, he really started acting crazy and when Tamara poured a little on his head, he really lost it and started trying to attack me while saying that I ruined his hair. So basically, I ended up just leaving her to cast Sanctuary."

Call chuckled a little nervously as he imagined Jasper trying to attack Aaron of all people. Well, at least he was trying to look a little crazy to fit his part, or maybe he was just being himself. Call wasn’t really sure. “Might be able to cast the demon out of Jasper, but you can never cast Jasper out of Jasper.”

Aaron laughed at that, and then looked up at the clock on Call’s wall. 

    “Wait, what time did you have to meet Master Rufus at?”

    “Noon,” Call responded as he finished the last remnants of bacon on his plate. “Why? What time is it?”

    “11:40,” Aaron said, glancing downwards at Call’s attire. “Jasper gave you something to wear last night, didn’t he? For the meeting?”

Call shrugged, an unfortunate smile crossing his lips. “I thought I could just wear this.”

Aaron ended up dragging the other boy all the way across the school to his own room in order to get him a decent pair of clothing to attend Rufus’s “oh-so important” meeting in. Apparently every student in Ecclesia owned a million pairs of the same looking uniform to put on everyday. 

    “One of my older uniforms should fit you,” Aaron mumbled to himself, his face hidden by the large door of his wardrobe. “Even though it might be a little dusty.”

    Call crossed his arms and frowned. “What do you mean by that?”

Aaron took his head out of his closet, took one look at Call’s expression and began to stutter while waving his hands around in order to grasp some sort of explanation. 

    “Oh, uh, I just meant that your arms are, like, smaller, and your- your measurements are, uh,-”

    “What he’s saying,” Tamara explained, sauntering in, “Is that you are both thinner and shorter than him.”

Aaron paled significantly at Tamara’s bold deduction, and he nervously glanced between her and Call’s face for any sign of explosion.

    “Being tall is for losers, and anyway, it's kind of ironic coming from you Tamara, since you’re shorter than I am!”

    “If being tall is for losers, then how would you ever be able to reach anything on a high shelf?” Aaron asked, slightly teasing, but still genuine enough not to get beaten down.

    “I have Jasper at my disposal.” Tamara claimed boldly.

    “Well, I have,” Call thought for a moment and then shrugged mentally. “Aaron? Ugh, that question is rigged!”

    “I thought I was a loser,” The blonde said off-handedly, sharing a look with Tamara who also seemed to be enjoying the conversation, much to Call’s chagrin.

The large clock on their room wall struck 12:00, ringing out loudly all throughout the rooms. Tamara dashed out of the room, likely to stall Master Rufus, and Aaron dashed to Call’s side, his old uniform in hand.

    “You don’t have to worry so much,” Call said looking at the other boy’s face, “ I was late all the time in my old school. People only made the sort of face you’re making if I was early.”

    “You don’t just show up late to a meeting with Master Rufus! That's like, taboo!!” Aaron exclaimed. 

Call took the uniform out of his hands, rolled his eyes and ripped open the top of his hospital gown, only to realize what he was doing, regained his shame, and quickly looked anywhere but the blonde’s face. “Uh, is there a bathroom for me to, you know, change in?”

    “Th-the right,” Aaron muttered, a hand obscuring his face from view. 

    “Right.” Call said, dashing away.

Jasper chose that exact moment to stroll through the door and stare at Aaron unforgivingly. His hairstyle had been redone, but other than that he seemed exactly the same as he had been in the morning.

    “What happened Goldilocks? Accidentally see Mama and Papa bear sleeping together?”

    “Shut up!” Aaron whisper-yelled, his face, ears, and neck a bright pink colour. “I- I just need to- I need to go to the bathroom.”

Aaron proceeded to walk past Jasper, straight towards the exit.

    “The bathroom is to your right,” Jasper informed, watching Aaron disappear outside the door. 

The Asian boy shrugged and plopped down onto Aaron’s couch, ready to sprawl out until Call threw open the bathroom door donned in an oversized middle schooler’s uniform. Jasper didn’t even try to stifle his laughter. 

Call’s face still felt warm after his stupid mistake, even despite the fact that it was physically impossible for blood to rush to his cheeks. Jasper’s laughter at Aaron’s stupid uniform didn’t help either. The blonde must have been a freaking giraffe of a middle-schooler, okay? Call was just average height, not short . 

    Call intook a large breath, ready to tell Jasper off because- well, just because not everyone looked like Aaron Stewart, and not everyone could fit in tree-sized clothing. Instead of laughing, Jasper should have been offering up his own clothes. Call settled with brevity. “Shut up and show me where Master Rufus’s office is.”

Jasper’s laughing cut off as he looked at Call’s face, then to clock, and then back to Call’s face. 

    “You're late!” Jasper shouted, grabbing Call’s arm and running out of Aaron’s room at a record speed. 

Both boys ran down the halls, dodging unfortunate groups of conversing students and disapproving teachers, only stopping when they came to a large sliding door with a gold plated nameplate on the wall reading, “Master Rufus”.

A few buttons of Call’s uniform had fallen loose after his mad dash through the halls, and his already unruly black hair stuck up at even more awkward angles. He looked as if he had finished running a marathon, but had somehow managed to maintain all of his breath. 

Call reached for the indention in the door in order to slide it open, however, Jasper quickly slapped his hand away.

    “Knock, idiot.”

Call sighed, looked Jasper in the eye, resignedly knocked, and then slid the door open before there was a response. 

    “Sorry I’m late,” he said unapologetically. 

Jasper quickly jumped out of view of the open door, careful not to be seen with the other boy.

    “Callum Hunt,” Master Rufus greeted, rising to his feet behind his desk. “I’m glad you were able to make it.”

    “Uh, thanks,” Call said, walking forward and plopping down in the chair opposite to Rufus’s enormous desk. 

Before another word could be exchanged between the two, yet another knock resounded off the door and the person awaiting on the other side didn’t wait to be beckoned in either. 

    “William,” a young looking woman said, papers in her hands. “Both tested negative. Neither one shows any sign of vampirism.”

    “Excellent,”  Master Rufus answered calmly. It seemed like knocking was a courtesy that was just barely afforded. 

    After the woman had left, Call couldn’t help but ask the question burning on the forefront of his mind. “I thought your first name was ‘Master’.”

Master Rufus stared at him for a moment, his expression deadpan, before a soft smile made its way onto his face. Call thought for a moment that he was seeing things.

    “I believe your mother said the exact same thing to me the day she first stepped into this office,” Rufus said, nostalgia clouding his mocha coloured eyes. “The two of you seem to be quite similar.”

Call stared blankly, his mind completely empty for once in his life. Part of him was angry at the fact that some random old guy knew more about his mother than he did; the other part of him wanted desperately to ask about her: What had she looked like? What did she act like? Did she smell like marshmallows and cookies? And more importantly, how had his dad been like around her? And if she had been here, would she have liked him? Would she be proud of her son?

His throat was completely dry by the time he managed to speak, all traces of humour completely gone. 

    “How’d you know her?” he asked, careful not to sound overly eager.

Rufus clasped his hands together, his smile gone. Whatever blissful memory he had been reliving moments before, also gone. Probably by the future that had stolen it away from them both. “I was once a teacher to both your father and mother. They were students at this school once, long long ago… I apologize for bringing up such an emotional topic, Callum, it was not my intention to be so insensitive.”

Call shrugged, like it had been meaningless. In reality it was the exact opposite, Rufus’s words were more precious to him than diamonds. Alistair never spoke of the past, nor of his mother. Never.

    “It’s not a big deal, anyways you wanna ask me about my time in the castle right? Might as well get it over with.”

Rufus agreed easily, and began the long questioning process.  When Call answered, the older man made sure to nod and make apprehensive sounds to show he understood.  Sometimes Call would find Rufus's eyes searching him in the middle of his stories, like he knew that his tale was abridged.

 It didn’t exactly take the most perceptive person to tell that Rufus was sharp. Call had to be extremely careful not to accidentally over do any part of his story, and to remain as vague as possible. The last thing he would want to do is contradict Alistair’s, or one of his friends' stories. 

By the time he had recounted his entire experience, Rufus had taken more than a dozen notes and stared at him with his laser eyes more than a million times. Call felt slightly glad his body was dead; it meant he didn’t have to deal with nervous sweats or fear of losing breath… Should he have slowed to mimic his loss of breath throughout the duration of the story? Would Master Rufus have noticed it, or the lack of it?

    “Uh, are we done? Can I go?” Call asked, rising out of his chair.

Rufus raised a single bushy eyebrow at him as he stacked his notes together into one uniform pile. 

    “Is there somewhere you must be? Or are you simply fond of escaping places? Sarita was quite distressed to find you missing when she did.”

    Call shrugged. “When nature calls, I listen.”

    “Of course, but I still do have one last thing to discuss with you, if you are willing to listen.”

Call sunk back into his chair, his arms crossed. Teachers only asked when they knew you didn’t really have a chance of saying ‘no’. “I don’t really have a choice.”

    “Good, I am glad to hear that,” Rufus said, clearly pleased with the outcome. “You see Aaron was very specific in mentioning, with quite a bit of fervour really, how much of an impact you really had during the battle with Rahab- and all throughout your time in the castle together. He said you were a natural.”

    “Okay, and?”

    Rufus stared at Call for a moment, waiting for him to understand the implication behind his words, and when their stare-off continued, he sighed resignedly. “After having spoken to some other teachers, we have all determined that there is an open place for you here at the Order of Ecclesia, if you would like to attend this school. You have already helped some of our best students destroy the biggest evil the world has to face, yet our purpose is not finished. There are still many things to complete, and we would be honoured to have you be by our side, if it suits you.” 

Rufus held out his hand, as if he was waiting for Call to shake his hand and seal the deal. 

Before he even had a chance to contemplate the question being asked, Alistair threw open the sliding door, still dressed in his teal hospital gown, fuming. 

    “Absolutely not. Rufus, I thought you said this would just be a meeting over details, not propaganda,” Alistair swatted at Master Rufus’s hand, like an annoyed cat. “You have enough children in line for their deaths, you do not need another one, especially not another Hunt . In fact we’re leaving right now. I’ve had enough of cultists for one lifetime.”

Master Rufus did not seem phased by Alistair’s outburst in the least, in fact he didn’t even flinch when the other man swatted at him. Call slightly wanted to laugh, but he stalled as yet another eaves-dropper dashed into the open room.

    “Please Master- uh, I mean M-Mr. Hunt,” Aaron said turning to Alistair, “Can Call, just stay for one more night, just so we can exchange information? And then he never has to come back?”

Alistair crossed his arms. “Can you not exchange numbers standing right here in thirty seconds?”

“Daaad,” Call said, touched by Aaron’s perseverance to see him again. “I mean, the day is already half-way over. We might as well just leave tomorrow.”

When Alistair remained silent, Call nudged him and flashed one of his more genuine smiles. It was the sort of smile that reached his usually half-lidded eyes and made his cheeks hurt if he held it too long. He might have felt embarrassed doing it in front of Aaron, but he was pretty sure he had accidentally given the blonde one already too, so it didn’t make much of a difference. 

    “Please?”

Alistair covered his face with his hand, before sighing painfully.

    “Fine.”

    “Yes!” Aaron exclaimed, grabbing a hold of Call’s arm and pulling him towards the exit. “Thank you Mr. Hunt!!!”

Alistair grunted in response, ever watchful of how familiarly the Belmont handled his son. Ever watchful of how he handled the current Dracula. It was ironic really. 

    “I am glad to see you have such a good relationship with your son,” Rufus said, placing a hand on his shoulder. It reminded him of the many times in the past when Rufus had patted him in that exact place as ways of saying ‘good job’, or ‘congratulations’. They were good memories, precious ones… He still didn’t want to remember them.

    Alistair ignored his comment, instead deflecting to another matter on his mind. “Ecclesia still owes me another pair of glasses. My prescription is quite expensive, I hope you are prepared to fully compensate them- oh and my flashlights, and clothes. And the days of work I missed-”

     “Alistair,” Rufus began, his mind also clearly on a completely different topic. “Would you ever consider rejoining Ecclesia?”

    “Never.”

Chapter Text

The sun warmed his skin, it was a welcome change to the cold of the classrooms he had been sitting in before. A blast of cool mountain air whipped past him, tousling his hair while simultaneously reviving him. The breeze distinctly smelled of pinecones and fresh snow. Birds chirped and sang, going about their business; decorating his view with bright flashes of colour as they flew right and left. If he hadn’t been going to school here for the past month, he might have assumed he had accidentally stumbled onto a private nature reserve.

It was beautiful, it was peaceful, and most of all, it allowed Alistair to relax in the brief amount of time he needed to walk to his next class. Usually, in this period of time he would be able to leisurely stroll through the open corridor and take in some of the fresh air and scenery. If he had remembered to collect a crust of bread with him from breakfast, he would toss it to the birds and watch them carry it back to their nests. He had walked this lovely path so many times, the birds no longer flew away at sight of him.

Alas, today was not one of those days. There would be no relaxation, or bird-feeding, and most definitely not any peace. Sarah had made sure of that.

    “Ali!!!” she called, running after him clunkily, her voice loud enough to scare any of the birds that would have settled around him.

“Alistair Hunt!” she yelled, grabbing ahold of his shoulder. She seemed to be out of breath, and rather distraught, but Alistair had no pity for her. “I-I’ve been calling you since you left your class three stairways ago! Wh-why didn’t you answer me?”

    “That's not my name.” Alistair said curtly, moving his shoulder out of her grip. 

Sarah took a few more moments to catch her breath, but when Alistair began speeding away once again she quickly followed. 

    “Alistair Hunt… Oh, Ali? Well, I just thought, since we’re in the same apprentice group we could make nicknames for each other to get more familiar with each other! You know?”

Alistair frowned. He had no plan of responding to the current bane of his afternoon walk. There, now he had a nickname for her too.

    “Uhm, okay then Alistair, you know, I was just wondering if you could do a favour for me, as a friend-”

    “We’re not friends,” Alistair corrected.

    “We’ve known each other for a month now though!” 

    “Isn’t Declan your friend? Why don’t you ask him?”

    “He’s my brother, so for one thing, that doesn’t count, but he wouldn’t be able to help me anyway!”

Alistair sighed, and stopped walking. Whatever Sarah was going on about she seemed set on, in the least, so ignoring her would probably just end up wasting more of his own time. He would just appease her and finally be on his way.“What about Jericho?”

“Jericho won’t do either! But that's kind of what I’m going into, don’t you see? I don’t have any girl friends.”

“So you want me to get you girl friends?” Alistair blanched, half-insulted, half-curious about how the insane girl in front of him came to such a conclusion.

“No!” Sarah laughed, her amber eyes crinkling prettily, “So basically, none of the girls in my class ever want to talk or even approach me unless it's to try and get with my idiot brother Declan.”

Alistair looked away, a part of him suddenly defensive. Sure Sarah was a nuisance half of the time, but she didn’t deserve to be isolated just because she was- Alistair shook his head, there was no point defending her in his head to an invisible audience. It was just a waste of his thoughts. 

“But I hear them talk about Constantine all the time, like, more than Declan! So then I went about thinking, you know, Sarah, what makes Constantine different then all the other boys in the school?”

    “He’s rich, has a nice hair-cut and fits most ‘popular kid’ societal norms for the current generation?” Alistair offered.

    Sarah shook her head and laughed again, like he had said something silly, even though Alistair was about one-hundred percent sure his answer was better than hers. “He doesn’t wear the normal school uniform! That's why!”

    “How did you even come to that conclusion?”

    “Haha, now look at who's getting invested? Well don’t you worry Alistair, I’ve thought about this a lot!” Sarah said smiling, her hands on her hips. “All I need you to do is ask Constantine how he is able to wear something that is so clearly out of uniform!”

Alistair stared forward, completely dumbfounded. “Why can’t Declan ask him? Or Jericho, his own brother?”

    “Because neither of them are his best friend like you are! Sometimes there are things you can’t tell your sibling, but with your best friend you can tell them anything.”

    “We’re not best friends, and also because of you I’m going to be late to class. If I decide to agree, how do you plan to compensate me?”

    “Well, for one thing you’re never late to any of your classes, so one tardy won’t be anything to you and I guess I’ll owe you a favour? Maybe?” she looked at him pleadingly.

    “Wow, very convincing,” Alistair deadpanned, beginning to walk forward once again. “I personally find Constantine to be very-”

    “Very, what Ali ?” the boy himself asked, hooking his arms around both Sarah and Alistair's necks, like they were a group of close friends. 

Sarah gasped, surprised to have been overheard despite the fact they were standing in an open hallway. “You do have a nickname!”

It took all of Alistair’s will not to sigh like an old man. Sarah was exhausting all on her own, but dealing with Sarah and Constantine was the equivalent of dealing with ten children under the age of five. He felt the beginnings of a headache rack his head.

 “Annoying.”

“You don’t mean that Alistair!!” Constantine said, pretending to swoon dramatically. When Alistair made no attempt to change his words, the blonde smirked and then continued his pathetic act. “As the student council president, I am obligated to tell authorities about any students that decide to skip their classes, but if a close friend happened to say something nice, maybe I could change my mind. That is fair, don’t you think so Sarah?”

Sarah looked left and right, as if Constantine was addressing someone else, and then her cheeks reddened as she realized his question was indeed directed at her. “Well, uh, I think it would be more fair if you could excuse my tardy and just punish Alistair since he is the one that said something mean.” 

“Very convincing way to get me to help you,” Alistair muttered under his breath, shoving Constantine aside. “I have zero intention to apologise-”

A loud clatter sounded some distance away, pulling Alistair from his dreams. Sarah’s young face disappeared from his vision, as did all the sights and smells that came with his memories. In the end, he was left staring at the dark ceiling of his bedroom, completely alone. He dreamt of his old memories every night now, with different pieces floating to the top of his consciousness. He used to think of them as a brief reprieve to the gnawing pain of living. He didn’t think that anymore, though. Now he had Call, and it was his every intention to make sure his son lived a better life than his own… That was at least what he told himself, being a single-parent wasn’t exactly the easiest thing.

Another loud clang sounded from outside of his bedroom and he forced himself to rise to his feet and finally take the initiative to see what was going on. Either Call was trying to reach for something in the kitchen, the poor kid hadn’t hit a growth spurt yet, or,  another raccoon had gotten into the house and Havoc was having a hell of a time chasing it around. 

    “Callum?” Alistair asked the darkness, as he stumbled outside of his bedroom. He had forgotten to put on his glasses. It took Alistair a moment to fumble around and find the light switch, but when he did find it, he felt as if he should flip it on and off again to ensure he was seeing correctly. 

Call was sitting on the kitchen counter, his legs crossed with his chin resting delicately on his fist. In his other hand was one of Alistair’s special antique cups: a baustroid stem, filled to the brim with an unknown crimson liquid. He looked like a little king sitting on his throne, and Havoc, who in the continued analogy would most likely be a loyal subject, sat at his feet wagging his tail. A part of Alistair’s mind vaguely remembered Constantine doing something similar… Was this just something Dracula did? Sit regally and hold a wine glass?

Call swirled the liquid in his glass, his mouth ‘o’ shaped as he stared at Alistair, clearly at a loss for words. 

    “Uhm,” Alistair began, speechless himself. “It's three am.”

    “Its juice- its grape juice,” Call said, suddenly looking at the cup in his hand and then back at his father.

Ever since they had left the Order of Ecclesia, Alistair had been very careful not to mention a single word about vampires, death, bats, or anything. As far as he knew and Ecclesia knew, they both had clear blood samples stating they were human. The sooner Call forgot about his supernatural experience, the sooner their life would return to normal. And sure, Alistair himself still had a few loose ends to tie up: Joseph, Constantine, and Vampire Killer to name a few, but Call wouldn’t have to be a part of any of that. He would stay safely at home while Alistair took care of it all. 

He was a vampire, but really, what difference did it make? Yes, on most days Call craved meat - especially rare steaks- and yes he seemed to prefer sleeping upside down to sleeping normally, and yes he did have unfathomable dark power locked up in his tiny body, but it wasn’t that big of a deal. Everything was under complete control. 

    “Are you having trouble sleeping?” Alistair asked, despite knowing that his son was slightly nocturnal. “If you had a bad dream, you can still come and sleep in my bed.”

    “Really? Dad, I’m too old for that- but uh, you know, we never had that movie night, you know, if you wanted to watch something.”

    Despite having work in the morning Alistair smiled and ran a hand through his overgrown hair. “Pick something out while I go grab my glasses and be careful with that glass. It's expensive.”

Call’s face lit up like a child at Christmas, which Alistair couldn’t help but feel slightly guilty about. Typically, his son dozed through the bright summer days. His vampiric body was still adjusting to a normal human schedule, and as a result, their time together seemed to be limited to mealtimes and bedtimes- or bedtime for Alistair. He really needed to try and fix that too. Another problem for another time. 

After grabbing his glasses, Alistair settled on the couch and looked at Call expectantly. “Which one did you pick?”

“This one,” Call said, waving a DVD case with four women dressed in pink on the cover in front of his face. “Kaylie gave it to me.”

Alistair stared at the cover with difficulty and then looked at his son.

“That was nice of her… Remind me who Kaylie is again, is she one of your friends?”

“Dad, Kaylie Miles,” Call said, as if speaking her full name would trigger his memory. When they stared at each other blankly for another moment Call covered his face with his hand. “Miles? The Miles? Our next-door neighbours??”

“Oh- and she didn’t so much as give it to me as leave it there for me. She said I looked like a serial killer, so then I asked her if that made her my first victim and then she screamed and started running and Havoc thought it was a game and started chasing her… Basically she left this thing behind so I picked it up and I was gonna toss it until I remembered our movie night.”

    “Hmmm, I noticed Havoc was acting more tired today.” Alistair muttered, his hand on his chin. “But anyway, how about you put that thing on the counter, we can return it to her later, and you go grab one of our movies-”

    “No! There is no way I am sitting through another one of your old black and white movies! Charlie Chaplin isn’t funny dad, it's the 21st century.”

    Alistair scratched his head. He hadn’t expected Call to speak so passionately about not watching his old movies, they were classics afterall. “Okay you can put in,” he glanced at the cover again,  “Mean Girls , just don’t fall asleep, or else next time we are gonna watch a Charlie Chaplin film.”

In the end, Alistar was the one who ended up falling asleep before the movie finished. With Call squished against him on one side, and Havoc lying almost fully on top of him like a quilt, he barely managed to stay awake past the title screen. This time he didn’t dream of anything at all,  though he just barely thought he heard Sarah’s laugh as he fell into a deeper sleep. 

The next morning, he found out that it had not been Sarah’s laughter he had heard, but Call’s. His son had been giggling quite a bit as he drew on his face with black expo marker. He had even escaped confrontation by leaving a note on the kitchen counter saying he was out skateboarding and would be back by dinner. Alistair couldn’t help but sigh at the sight of it. On some days Callum acted just like Sarah, despite having never even met her.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Call balanced easily on his skateboard, flying through town at record speed. The more he used his dead body, the more accustomed he became to it. His bad leg had gone from feeling slightly uncomfortable to feeling nothing, just like the rest of him felt. Now the only difference was that it was slightly shorter. He was practically a normal kid now, just a little bit stronger… 

Now the only downside to his rapid physical improvement was the fact that he could barely stand the sunlight. He was only able to skateboard for a few minutes before feeling completely drained, and like he needed to find shelter in a pitch-black cave somewhere. He quickly found out that shade worked for the most part, which finally gave him a place to practice his magical artes away from the prying eyes of his neighbours. 

Turned out that he had accidentally carried home a few of the vampire books Jasper had given him back at Ecclesia, and, just to his luck Declan Novak and Jericho Madden had his back with the second edition to their series titled: Dracula 101: The guide to knowing your nemesis . The book contained an in-depth analysis of different spells, abilities, and powers that the last Dracula was recorded to have as well as his weaknesses. Whoever Jericho and Declan were, they must have really done their research. 

Actually learning  magic came surprisingly easy to him. It wasn’t something he had to think too hard about before making it happen… At least that's what he told himself. So far, the only thing he had mastered was the conjuring of flame, a spell titled ‘Hellfire’ according to the guide. 

At first, he assumed that it was just a regular flame that he had created, something similar to what Tamara displayed back at the castle, but he quickly realized his mistake. When the two author’s wrote hellfire , they really meant hellfire . 

Red fire would pour from his fingers in the form of spherical projectiles of death. He could create about a dozen fireballs at time, and launch them wherever he liked, which is where he found out the difference between his fire and Tamara’s. His fire didn’t go out, ever, unless he himself quelled it. He had almost burned down a tree by the time he figured that one out. He also realized that his ring blocked off some of his more offensive abilities. When he took it off, his fireballs grew more robust and more destructive, incinerating almost anything they touched instantly. 

Aside from that, he still had no luck shapeshifting into anything, or performing other cooler spells mentioned in the book. The purple lightning he had been able to summon before didn’t seem too keen on coming back either. It almost felt as if something was blocking off the memories of the other spells from coming to the forefront of his mind; whether it was ignorance or something else, he couldn’t determine, but it was definitely annoying. 

Eventually, he grew tired of practicing the same spell over and over again and simply rode back home, unfatigued from his training session. His magic supply seemed to be endless now that he had turned into Dracula. 

It was weird being a vampire. Being dead, being inhuman, craving blood. It drove him crazy some days, restraining his impulses to just flee and recreate his castle and wreak havoc on everything and everyone. And then he remembered his dad and his friends, and it grounded him- Drew too, though he remembered him in a sort of scary haunting way.

Call flinched at the doorstep of his home, there was something within that was foreboding and wrong, something he hadn’t felt since he had been at the Order. Call took off his ring and slipped into one of the many pockets of his cargo pants, completely ready for a showdown. A part of him wanted to solve his problems diplomatically, in a way that wasn’t violent, but the other half of him wanted to test his new strength. He had been practicing the same spell for a few days now, and he could already tell that Dracula’s power was much more than his original abilities. 

Yet, the further he went into the house, the more he realized it: no one else was there. His instincts were flaring up at nothing more than a book, which sat harmlessly on their coffee table. It hadn’t been sitting there before he had left which mostly likely meant it was something of Alistair’s. Whatever it was, it seemed fancy.

Golden embellishments decorated the black cover, forming a cross adorned with tiny white pearls. Without thinking he ran his finger over the detailed intricacies, wincing when the holy power shocked him: the force being strong enough to flip the book open and send him a few metres backward. 

He picked himself off the floor and frowned, summoning a ball of fire in his palm. Whatever this book was, it was far too powerful to just be sitting around in his home, he needed to destroy it while he still had the chance. He walked toward it, angry that a few scraps of paper had such an effect on his new vampiric-form. He peered over the book, his eyes narrowing as he read the text inscribed on the page.

    “Dedicated to my two loves, Alistair and Callum; From Sarah”

The anger went out of him at the sight of the unfamiliar bubbly handwriting adorning the page with hearts and smileys and of course with her own name. His mother’s name. She had been the one to gift this- this bible to Alistair, and to him . She had probably wanted them all to read it together, and yet, with all the changes he had undergone, he couldn’t even be in the same room as it without feeling threatened. 

He knew now what the answer to his questions were. Would his mother be proud of him? Would she have liked him? No, she probably would have been trying to kill him like Aaron and Tamara would if they only knew the truth. 

    “Call? You’re home earlier than I expected, everything okay? You want a snack or something?” Alistair asked, walking into their living room.

    “No, I just felt tired,” he muttered. For some reason he couldn’t lift his eyes to meet his dad’s gaze. It was like his eyes were glued to the book. “Why’re you home early? I thought you usually closed the store in the evening.”

    Alistair scratched his head and shrugged. “I’ve got a lunch break too kiddo.”

Call grunted an affirmation, plopping down onto the couch directly in front of the book. His physical body may have loathed it, but in his mind he knew this was the closest he had ever been to his mother. It was the closest he would ever be to her if he didn’t say anything.

“Did you and mom meet in Ecclesia?”

Alistair went silent for long enough that Call didn’t think he was going to answer. It took him a moment, but after he audibly swallowed he heard a quiet murmur of an answer.

    “We did.”

It was silent after his answer, neither one of them wanting to say anything. 

“Could I go back? If I wanted to?” he didn’t know why he asked it. The Order of Ecclesia were the very people who wanted him dead, eradicated off the very face of the earth. If he went back, there were sure to be more problems than benefits, he knew all that. But Aaron, and Tamara were there. You didn’t go through an entire haunted house of life-threatening monsters and evil wizards alone. They had saved his life, and he had saved theirs, or at least Aaron’s somewhat. It was the closest bond he had ever had with somebody, they were the closest things he had to calling friends. And he didn’t want to lose that, not because of his dad of all people. 

“Callum,” his father began, his voice stern. “You are not going to that school, do you understand me?”

“But why?! Didn’t you go there? Didn’t you meet mom there? Aren’t those all good things?”

“Have you ever wondered why you’ve never seen your mother?” Alistair asked, his voice ice cold. “It- it is because of them. They stole her away from us.”

His father’s voice trembled ever so slightly, years of suppressed emotion echoing loudly in the silence. Call said nothing, his own metaphorical heart pounding in his chest. It hurt hearing about the mother he never knew, but it hurt him even more to hear his father’s voice like that: broken, suffering, so terribly unlike his usual calm self. 

They remained silent and hushed for the remainder of lunch, neither one having anything to really say to the other. It wasn’t the normal comfortable silences that hung between them after Call had finished blabbering about whatever had gone on during his day. This silence felt charged with different feelings and emotions. Things neither of them wanted to discuss.

By the time Alistair had finished his lunch and gotten ready to leave again, Call had already dozed off. He dreamt that Alistair bent down and kissed his head, which was something his father hadn’t done since he was a baby, or at least he assumed since he had no memory of it ever happening. Maybe it had never happened. Maybe Alistair had forgotten about love and affection after his mom had died. 

When he woke up clouds were rolling in, darkening the already dark sky. It must have been evening. 

    “Dad?” Call called into the empty house, but there was no response.

 He was completely alone, aside from Havoc who also felt the need to bark once to check if there were any other animals in the house. Call sighed and shook his head when there was no answer for either of them. When he checked the time and realized his dad was late he sent him a quick text, asking where he was at. Alistair responded after a few minutes saying he was staying late to finish a few things and would be home soon. It was already half past six.

Call took it as avoidance. After lunch he felt as if he had wreaked the whole “father-son-relationship thing” and his dad’s reluctance to return home might as well have been a sign written in bright lights: “Your dad doesn’t want to see you!”. Well, if there was one thing Call was good at doing it was messing things up, but what if, what if just this one day he was able to fix things. Help his dad out a little, maybe prove to him (if not his mom) that even though he was Dracula, he was one hell of a son.  

He grabbed his phone and sent an urgent message to Aaron. “Send me your best spaghetti recipe.” The blonde, ever swift to reply, sent him a recipe almost right away. With lots of help from Aaron, many pictures and texts, and a bit of teasing from both parties, Call was able to recreate something that looked completely edible and tasted- it tasted quite decent actually. He had even gone so far as to grab a sprig of parsley to decorate the giant heap of pasta he had piled onto a plate for his dad. 

He felt pleased that it had turned out so well, and he hoped Alistair would like the outcome too. It was something of a good-natured action that he hoped would work as both forgiveness for today, and perhaps incentive for the future. If Alistair let him go to Ecclesia, maybe he could make pasta every night for dinner, who knew. And maybe someday he would learn not to completely trash their kitchen in the process. Now that was a pretty far maybe, but still Ecclesia was a big motive too.

Havoc slumped down on the couch and let out a loud whine. Call’s own stomach grumbled in unison and they shared a brief tortuous look. It had already been an hour since he had texted his dad about coming home, and still nothing. Maybe Alistair had planned to spend the night at his shop, maybe he had never planned to come home in the first place. It didn’t make any sense since his dad never spent nights there, but Call’s mind was on a roll of creating unbelievable scenarios. What if Alistair had gotten arrested for something? Or suddenly had a fist-fight with a rude customer? Call scoffed and grabbed his skateboard. He would just go find out himself.

It didn’t take long to skate to his dad’s shop, “Now and Again”, but it couldn’t be said that it was a short ride either. By the time Call had arrived, it was the only shop that still had light on within, although there were curtains covering the windows and the “closed” sign was hung on the door. The street was practically bereft of people too, most people were already probably at home safely with their families, eating warm dinners. When he glanced at the sky to look for the light of the moon, he found that it was completely black up above. Clouds had covered any trace of light, it was sure to rain soon.

Call skated around to the back door, the spare shop key in his hand. He heard voices from within. It didn’t stop him, he opened the door and paused before stepping past the threshold. He felt another wave of uneasiness wash over him, similar to how he had felt whenever he had first encountered his mother's bible, only this time it was much stronger. He shrugged it off, he was sure his dad had accidentally brought in plenty of old holy relics there was nothing to worry about.

He left his skateboard between the door and walked carefully closer to the main area of his dad’s shop. The back-entrance was far enough in the rear of the shop that he could enter relatively unheard if he wanted. It helped whenever he had to check on his dad on late nights and see if he was simply staying up to tinker on some old gadget, or if he was discussing business with a particularly passionate customer. Typically if it was the latter, he would simply take a glance at the crazy old hoot who would spend such an amount on old antiques and then head back home. He was almost positive that he was going to get a laugh off of this one, whoever they were. 

Call stealthily crawled to the doorway and listened for a moment. 

    “They don’t know I have it, it won’t be an issue,” Alistair took in a deep breath, as if he were preparing himself. “Constantine was my best friend, now that I have the chance to have him back, I won’t lose it.”

Call’s stomach dropped and he swerved his head around the door without thinking, desperate to get a look at the scene. A slimy voice he hadn’t ever wanted to hear again spoke to his father, clearly pleased. 

    “I am glad to hear that Alistair Hunt,” Joseph said, reaching for a hidden artifact that was sitting on Alistair’s main display case. 

His father quickly pulled it away, exposing it to Call’s line of sight. Alistair was holding Vampire Killer. “I’ll hold onto this until my end of the deal is reached. The Belmont won’t get it from me- and even without his interference I’m sure it’s power will be enough.”

“Enough to destroy him ”, went unsaid. 

Call felt a cold hand of dread fall over him. Not the sort of cold that he had grown accustomed to, not the cold of living in a corpse, but the cold chill of fear. 

    “One last thing Alistair,” Joseph said, handing him a scroll. “Give this to Callum, it may be gibberish for us both, but when he sets eyes upon it he will know. It is best to prepare his power before the transfer. I wouldn’t want the true dark-lord to resurrect without it of course. I’ll soon get the others from the Order, they are just well hidden...”

Call didn’t hear another word from the man’s mouth after glancing at the scroll. It was like just by looking at the parchment his mind remembered something locked away from long long ago, the spell, Dark Metamorphosis , he remembered it.

By the time his head cleared, Joseph had disappeared from the scene and Alistair was walking straight towards him, Vampire Killer in hand. 

Call tried his best to dash away, but his legs tangled with each other and instead of haste, he simply fell on his butt, staring forward with horror as Alistair flipped on the light-switch.

    “C-Callum?” Alistair asked, his voice slightly unhinged. His dad almost never called him by his full name.

With the lights on, an old cracked mirror was illuminated behind Alistair’s lone figure. Blood red eyes stared back at him, unwavering. He had forgotten to put back on his ring. He had joked about his appearance with Jasper, shrugging it off as nothing, but seeing himself after hearing his father’s words changed his mind. He was terrifying, a true monster in his own right, a true monster down to his very core. 

    “H-How long have you been planning to kill me?” Call asked, his voice a lot stronger than he felt. “How long have you been working with him?”

    “It's not what you think Callum-” Alistair tried, his voice low. 

    “So that’s why you stole Vampire Killer, right? Because that's not the only weapon in the entire universe that is capable of killing me, Dracula, Callum Hunt-”

“Your son” , he thought as a final to his statement. 

    “You are not Dracula,” Alistair said, sadly, his eyes on the ground.

    “Did mom know I was like this too? Is that why she destroyed my leg?!”

Alistair froze, his eyes wider than Call had ever seen them.

    “Did Joseph tell you that?! Sarah would never-”

    “It's more than you ever tell me!” Call interjected, “You don’t say anything about her, or about me- the only thing I’ve heard is that freaking conversation earlier-!”

    “I love you Callum! Have I told you enough?!” Alistair asked, grabbing a hold of his shoulders, his hands shaking.

    “Then deny it, tell me you aren’t trying to kill me,” Call begged, pulling away from his father’s warm human touch. “Tell me you’re not planning to kill me!”

  Alastair stepped back suddenly, at a loss for words. He looked behind himself and then towards Call, conflicted over something that was far too easy to just say. He didn't want to say it, Call realized. He couldn't deny it because it was the truth.

     “I…”

Call watched his reflection as his mouth fell open. He may have been a monster, he might have no literal heart to speak of, but he couldn’t describe the rift that he felt split his metaphorical heart at that moment. It was as if speech itself failed to describe the immense emptiness that had filled the gaping hole in his chest.

Even his own father wanted him dead- a desire strong enough, that Alastair was ready to murder him by his own hand. 

    “Is it because I’m a monster?” Call whispered, still staring at the mirror. He could no longer bring himself to look at Alistair. Then came the intense hot rage that came every time he felt defenseless. Only now, it  made him tremble with inhumane power and darkness. His red eyes glowed, and air around him crackled with purple electricity. “I won’t just lay down and die, monster or not!”

The mirror as well as the lightbulbs shattered as darkness pooled outwards. His aura was enough to engulf everything in the room and smother it; the only beacon of light that glowed was Vampire Killer, secured in his father’s hand. A small blue light that was just bright enough to illuminate his face.

    “Callum stop this,” Alistair ordered, his voice even. His face wasn’t, it was filled with unbridled fear- fear of him. Call saw it in the lines around his eyes, in the crease of his brow.

    “Or what? You’ll kill me early?!” A whirlwind had built up around him, picking up fallen pieces of glass and a myriad of his father's antique trinkets. “Just tell me, before I leave your life forever, as a human, c-could you ever say that maybe one of our moments together wasn’t a complete lie?!”

    “Callum,” Alistair said, reaching towards him, but neither his hands nor his words made it to him. A large shard of glass whipped past him, slicing his throat completely. His father’s thin frame crumbled like a fallen leaf.

Call watched the events happen in slow motion. Events that were never supposed to happen, Alistair was never supposed to get hurt. He had never intended for that to happen…It was like he was watching Drew all over again.

    “Dad?!” he cried, his magic evaporating as if it had never been there. “No- this- this isn’t how it's supposed to happen-”

Using his magic, he summoned an Alura Une almost instantly and crouched by his side, trembling. The split skin re-grew quickly, healing the laceration along with any other wounds his father might have. He looked pale and wan. He looked like a corpse.

Call stood up properly this time and stared at his father’s fallen form, as if he was an alien. He didn’t belong here. Not where he could hurt someone so precious to him. He didn’t belong anywhere in the world. With magic so destructive that he had little to no control over it, he was simply a walking time-bomb. He needed to leave. He needed to take Havoc and run. He didn’t know where he would go, but he couldn’t stay here, not when he was such a threat to everything and everyone around him.

Chapter Text

It was raining when he left his dad’s shop. Piercing wind slashed across his exposed skin, burning him with an intense cold, even though he couldn’t actually feel it. In every droplet that splattered around him, Call imagined he heard vile whispers. Voices that spoke the truth about what he was and what he had done, voices that couldn't be silenced no matter how much he lied. They were the sounds of his consciousness, begging for him to seek redemption. 

Part of him knew that running wouldn't distance himself from them, but it didn't stop him from trying. When he returned home Havoc stood in the doorway, his head cocked to one side in a slightly confused manner. He didn’t realize his master had changed. If he did, he probably didn’t even care that Call wasn’t human anymore.

 If only Alistair had been so open-minded. Part of him was angry that his father had wanted to kill him, angry he had pretended to care about him at all- after all it would have been so much easier to just hate him if there was no emotion involved in it. But his dad had said he had loved him; he had trusted Call enough to approach him in a deranged state and had almost gotten killed for it. Which brought about another wave of anger which he couldn't blame on anyone but himself. 

 Call embraced Havoc, he clung to him and the familiarity of the life he had once lived. He wished he could go back to the early days of the summer when he didn’t have to contemplate between his life and everyone else's. He scoffed, his face partially buried in Havoc’s fur. He didn’t have to contemplate, he knew what he wanted. Even up to the horrifying moment his father had alluded to killing him; Call had known he wanted to live. He always had.

Life had denied him of so many things: his mother, a proper leg, his list could go on for an eternity. The only thing he hadn’t been denied in life was, well, it was life itself- at least up until recently. Now it seemed everyone, Alistair included, seemed dead-set on taking that away too, but Call wasn’t ready to just die. He would fight tooth and claw against the world to keep living. And that was exactly what he planned to do.

He rushed upstairs and peeled off his drenched clothes, opting to instead wear something that suited his journey a little better: a black hoodie which stated gamer nutrition facts and his favorite pair of worn black work boots. He was also wearing his favourite pair of jeans, but they seemed to have taken a beating during his training which left them frayed and torn in certain places. Their colour had turned more grey than blue, but he wasn’t sure what had caused that, maybe years of use. 

Lastly, he grabbed an envelope that Jasper had sent him when they had attempted being pen-pals. The first and only letter he had sent had basically said they couldn’t text about being Dracula, or anything because Ecclesia had people in high places which meant that sending letters was their best option to communicate. 

But the content of the letter didn't really matter at the moment, it was specifically the envelope that mattered. Jasper’s home address was what was so important. He would go there and hideout until he at least got some inkling of an idea of where to go next. Jasper had wanted to kill him on the spot, but he hadn’t and even if he had been bought out by Call’s bribe, it was enough assurance to last him at least a bit. 

Part of him wanted to leave a note to his dad before he ended up leaving forever, but he didn’t know what he would say so instead he headed straight toward their front door. A few weeks ago he had walked through this door and thought he would always have this place to call home, it was almost funny how quickly things ended up changing. 

    Call whistled once and Havoc quickly trotted to his side. “Come on boy, we’re leaving.”

Both boy and dog dashed out into the storm, neither caring if anyone caught sight of them. Money and food was forgotten, after all an immortal body needed no nourishment, or at least he was pretty sure he read that somewhere in his books. Because it was so late, he didn’t have access to any form of modern transportation, but it didn’t hinder him like it might have if he still had his human body. He was fast now, and he no longer had to worry about his leg. 

He was dashing faster than the freezing raindrops, so much so that he was even able to glance at each individual drop before getting splashed with it. His speed reminded him of his magic stunt back with Beelzebub- something he had learned was called a “back-dash”, only at the moment he wasn’t really going backwards. He was even matching Havoc’s pace who seemed to be running at full-speed. The dog barked at him once, his tail wagging as they ran and Call grinned crazily back, he had never been able to run alongside Havoc as a human. 

There was a sense of freedom as they dashed through the pouring rain alongside the main road, a liberating sort of emotion he couldn’t quite place. It was unlike anything he had ever felt before: power, confidence, independence. It was intoxicating. 

The sky was still dark by the time they reached the Virginia border. Call was lucky he lived close to the state border, or the trip might have taken longer… Or maybe it wouldn’t have, he didn’t know. After running for so long, he stood upright and wiped his muddy palms on his hoodie. He stared at them for a moment, questioning how exactly they had gotten so dirty, but Havoc quickly nudged him out of his stupor, and pointed to the bright lights of the city with his nose. They were so close. 

The last part of his plan was simple in theory, but he wasn’t sure how it would play out in real-life: Locate Jasper’s house and then infiltrate said house without being noticed by his possibly vampire-hunter mother and siblings? He didn’t know if he had siblings, but basically avoid everyone but Jasper at all costs. A gas station seemed to be a good place to start. 

When Call neared the glass door, he visibly saw the cashier jerk upright and start muttering something, fear evident in his eyes. When he opened the door, the man froze and stared at him like he was waiting for him to steal something and then pull out a gun. 

    “L-listen kid,” the man started, one hand on his phone, the other shaking desperately. He looked between both Call and Havoc, trying to discern which was the bigger threat. “I-I don’t want any trouble-”

    “Directions,” Call said, handing the smudged envelope over the counter. “Give me the directions to this address and there won’t be any trouble.”

The man stared at the location with fear before typing it into his computer. Once it had loaded, he turned the monitor towards him with haste. “I-Its right down road and to the left. It's the white house on the hill- i-i-impossible to miss!”

“Thanks for your cooperation,” Call said, giving the man a smile.  It seemed to frighten him more than help him, but it wasn’t his fault he had a sinister looking face, it was Alistair’s.

After getting directions, finding Jasper’s house was easy- as it was literally the house at the highest elevation in the entire city. It was painted completely white and even in the storm it seemed to stand out beautifully. The closer he got, however, the more he noticed blemishes within the architecture. There were splinters in the wood, the beds were devoid of any flowers, and the biggest one of all, their greenhouse seemed to have been completely disowned. Some of the glass panels were shattered- others were too dusty to look through, and all of the vegetation seemed to be dead. 

Ten years ago, Call was almost positive this house would have made it onto one of those reality shows; now though, well the house seemed a little sad, a little empty. Shaking the feeling off, he wandered around until he found an open window and laughed slightly to himself. An open window in the middle of a storm. Either he was extremely lucky, or the residents were very dumb. He shrugged and picked up Havoc with one arm, and leaped to the window’s ledge gracefully. The curtains were drenched and the floor was soaked with water, this did seem to be a very open and legitimate way into the house. The room was even furnished with a bed, mirror, dresser and everything. 

After gently letting Havoc down onto the floor, he silently made his way over to the edge of the bed and pulled the covers down just enough to look at the person’s face. Jasper laid there innocently, his mouth slightly parted, and for once, his hair completely unstyled. He looked surprisingly normal, and Call wasn’t sure why that was so shocking to him.

    “Hey, Jasper,” Call whispered, shaking his shoulder lightly. “Wake up, we need to talk.”

The Asian boy pulled his cover over his head and turned, mumbling something that sounded angry and incoherent. Call sighed and pulled the quilt back down. Being the polite person he usually was, he didn’t typically amount to such tactics, but when push came to shove he didn’t really have much of a choice. He placed his dead ice-cold hand on Jasper’s warm cheek. 

    “Jasper-”

Call swore Jasper jumped near ten-feet out of his bed before opening his mouth, probably to scream, which Call couldn’t really let happen so he hurriedly clasped both of his hands onto the other’s face efficiently shocking him even more. After he stopped struggling, Call loosened his grip.

    “Don’t scream please?” 

Jasper looked at him, obviously freaked out, but calm enough to nod his head and comply. Call removed his hands and shivered for a second at the loss of warmth.

    “H-How did you find me?” he asked, surprisingly civil for the situation. Or maybe it was fear that subdued his actions, Call wasn’t sure.

    He shrugged and pulled out the smudged letter from his pocket. “The letter you sent me, remember? And listen, I- I’m really sorry about breaking in at three am, but I-” Call bit his tongue, he had decided to go to him for help a few hours ago, but really asking him felt so much more difficult. “I-”

Jasper stared at Call, his eyes wide, before mentally settling on something. He ran a hand through his dark hair, yawned, and then settled sinking back into his bed .

“Your apology would have meant more if you had said it before dripping all over my wooden floors and putting your cold hands on my face, and literally breaking and entering,”  Jasper said, though when he looked up and actually saw Call lowering his head in shame, he looked away suddenly. “But I guess since you’re already here, you might as well dry off and...stay.”

    “It's okay, I don’t need anything,” Call said reassuringly. “I just need that corner and me and Havoc will go to sleep-”

Jasper turned on his lamp and warm yellow light filled his room. His frown deepened.

“Actually, just go get in the shower.” 

“Bu-”

Jasper pushed him to his personal bathroom, flipping on the lightswitch and blinding them both. After recovering, he stifled another large yawn. “Just hurry up okay? We can talk in the morning about whatever you were saying.” 

Call nodded compliantly, and walked forward. The first thing he caught sight of was a ginormous mirror that stood opposite to the shower... No wonder Jasper had been so pushy, his entire front side was covered with dirt. It almost looked as though he had been running through the underbrush on all fours like Havoc, otherwise there would have been no other way to get so dirty.

    “Also,” Jasper said, re-opening the door and giving him a mean look. Call felt very glad he hadn’t stripped yet. “Don't misunderstand or get any ideas. I’m just letting you stay cause-”

    “Yeah, yeah,” Call assured him, not meeting his eyes. “Our deal and everything, I get it… Just, thanks, I guess.”

The other boy shrugged and shut the door again, finally leaving him in peace.

When Jasper heard the shower water finally start up he clutched one of his pillows to his chest and fell back onto his bed giddily. It was the first time he had ever had a friend spend the night, or any such thing.

Sure, there might have been one point in time he would have never thought Call to ever be anything so close to a “ friend ”, but as time passed and he thought about their interactions more and more, he realized how unlikely it would be for him to actually be a malicious vampire. Yes, he had the weird vampiric tendencies, and he was kind of really dumb which ended up making him more suspicious, but when he remembered exact moments like when Call had drank his blood, or when he had found him sitting in the hallway in Ecclesia, he couldn’t help but notice how out-of-place he seemed. Which really led Jasper to think that maybe, if he gave him the benefit of the doubt, he might find that he was just a victim to his circumstances, or something. 

And hey, there was also the fact that Call really seemed to need someone to depend on right now. Tamara had never depended on Jasper. She had always turned to Aaron to depend on, or even just to call her equal. She had always looked to Aaron to be her partner, never him. Anytime they were in a group together it was Tamara, Aaron, and then Jasper. He had always been the third wheel, but it couldn’t be like that now that Call was here; he was relying on Jasper, not anyone else. Call had told Jasper his secret, trusted him to keep it, and come to his house. He wasn’t a third-wheel anymore he was-

Havoc barked loudly, his paws on the foot of his bed. Jasper looked at him, his brow raised distrustfully.

    “What do you want?” he asked, waiting for some sort of response. “Just so you know, I’ve always been more of a cat person, so I hope you’re not expecting any favours from me.”

Havoc wagged his tail, sending droplets of water everywhere. Jasper shuddered looking at the mess he was making. Without thinking, he grabbed a spare towel from his dresser, and began toweling the wolf down. Instead of sitting still and complying, Havoc seemed to take Jasper’s attempts at drying him off as playfulness. He pulled the towel from his grip and sat on top of him, shaking it wildly. 

“G-get off me! You-!” 

Havoc seemed to notice Jasper’s change in emotions, and quickly began licking him in an apologetic manner. Jasper pushed the wolf off him as his anger quickly dissolved into giggles. 

“Quit it! You’re tickling me!”

Call opened the door exactly as he finished speaking, and both Jasper and Havoc stared at him like a deer in headlights. 

    “Havoc come here,” Call snapped. The borrowed silk-pajamas he wore fit him almost perfectly, whereas on Jasper they hung short one too many inches. 

Jasper flicked his bangs out of his face and pretended like it was normal to lay on the floor. “Just so you know, I’m a cat person not a dog person.”

“Just so you know, I’m not a person-person so-- Wait, uh, I mean, okay, thank you, good night.”

Jasper paused for a moment, his eyes round. 

    “Are you- Are you trying to be nice to me? Cause I’m letting you stay?”

Call ran barely trembling fingers through his inky wet hair. It was warm within Jasper’s room, but watching the other made him feel cold, almost as if he was freezing from the inside out.

    “Am I wrong for trying?” he asked, his voice broken. Jasper wasn’t sure if he was referring to the question he had just asked, or if Call was referring to something else entirely.

    “No,” he said, shrugging as he made his way back onto his bed. “It just doesn’t suit you.”

Call didn’t respond, choosing instead to sink against the wall opposite to Jasper’s bed. 

“Just act like your usual annoying self,” Jasper added as he tossed a few pillows and his comforter at him. “It’s saved you enough times in the past anyway.”

Chapter Text

When Call woke up, he felt as if he had just woken from a really long fever-dream. His first thought had been about Alistair and if he had ever come home- and then his mind had helpfully supplied the answer through the use of flashing memories and a cold lump of dread dropping to the bottom of his stomach. He burrowed further in the covers, inhaling the soft smell of jasmine. It was soft and sweet and probably something his vampire-hating mother would have smelled like. What comforting thoughts he was having this morning.

    “Are you sniffing my comforter? Could you literally get any more creepy?”

Call sat up abruptly, staring at Jasper with the look of a guilty convict, but if he was going down he at least would pull Jasper down with him.

    “How long have you been standing there? Were you watching me sleep this entire time?” 

    “Wha- No! I just came to wake you up! Why would I watch you ?”

Call shrugged and tossed the comforter off himself. “For the record, it stank.”

Havoc rose to his feet when Call did too, but instead of walking with him to the bathroom he stood there staring at Jasper, his tail wagging slowly. 

    “Stop rubbing it in and just go,” Jasper muttered, clicking his tongue and turning his face away from the wolf. When Havoc persisted, Jasper lifted his finger towards the bathroom, angry. “Go!”

Havoc trotted away happily after that while Call leaned on the doorframe, a toothbrush in his mouth and a brow raised.

    “Jasper, honey, who are you talking to?” a woman called from directly outside his bedroom door. Call froze mid-brush and looked at Jasper.

    “Uh- I-I was on the phone with a friend,” Jasper said, barely opening the door so she couldn’t look inside. “He said he’s coming over in five minutes to spend a few nights.”

    “Oh, you never have friends over... Is it Aaron Belmont? Did you finally become friends?”

    “No, mom it's not. You’ll meet him whenever he comes, so can you leave so I can get dressed?”

    “Oh, I’ll go. Let me make something for you two before I leave for work.”

Jasper didn’t respond after that, shutting the door in his mother’s face. Call looked at him, his arms crossed and his mouth frowning. If he had a mother, he wouldn’t have treated her like that, even if she was a vampire hater. But at the same time he and Jasper were in kind of similar situations. He had Alistair raising him as a single-dad, whereas Jasper had been primarily raised by a single-mom. Sometimes, even though he was definitely grateful to have him, Call could be disdainful to Alistair too. They were both kind of in the same boat, in a weird- empathetic to Jasper sort of way. Call didn't know when he had started to think in a way like that.  

    “Okay, so what you’re gonna do is jump back outside and instead of climbing through the second-story window like a lizard-"

"Why did you tell her I'm coming? Now if my dad calls the police you guys could be implicated too!"

Jasper blinked slowly at him, and stared as if he was waiting for Call to laugh and claim he was joking. When it didn't happen, he grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him. 

"What do you mean your dad will call the police?! What the hell happened?!"

Call glanced downwards at his bare feet in an attempt to look away from Jasper's overly-close face. If he did decide to tell him the truth, well that could put Alistair in quite a bit of-

"Stop doing that!"

"I'm not even doing anything!" Call protested, shoving the other boy back a bit.

"Yes you are, you do this thing where you find some other place than our face to look and decide whether or not to lie," Jasper said, eyeing him testily. "Anyway, I already know you're Dracula, so I don't really see how anything you have to tell me can be worse than that."

"My dad basically said he wanted to kill me and then I got mad and almost accidentally killed him." Call deadpanned. Jasper’s jaw unhinged itself. “Okay, so now do you understand why I can’t just lizard-climb out of here? I'm trying to be anonymous and somehow get rid of all of my dark evil super powers so I don't accidentally hurt anyone else! I- I sometimes can't exactly control myself."

"So then why did you even come here? If you're a danger to everyone, why'd you come to my house? Thought you would wipe me out first?" Jasper asked accusingly.

"No, that's not even... " Call took a moment to run his hand through his hair.  "I just… Everyone else that's figured out I'm a vampire has tried to kill me for it except for you. So please, stop being a prick for like five minutes and just try and listen to me."

Jasper raised a brow, silently prompting him to continue.

“Okay so aside from all of the stuff I just told you, when I told you I would contact your dad that was a lie. I don’t have any idea how to contact anyone from the ‘evil’ side. I have nothing that could help you in the slightest, and even if I could possibly use my magic for good it would probably expose my identity and get me killed, but I still- I still need-”

Call tried desperately to swallow the lump of pride that had formed in his throat.

“So then you’re trying - and failing - to say that you need my help?” He asked, glancing at his nails and back to Call's eyes quickly, as if he couldn't decide which to look at. 

 Call could talk Jasper out of being a prick, but he could never really take the prick out of him. Had he been slightly more secretive, he might have been able to wash his hands of the other boy, but Jasper knew Call's fate, and the best option he had at the moment was to try and see if Jasper would help him by trying to bribe him with pity. It was all Call had left at this point. 

    “Yes,” Call ground out through clenched teeth. “I guess that is what I’m saying.”

    “Hm, last time someone asked me for help there were like ten more ‘pleases’ and a lot more grovelling. I dunno what you’re asking for.”

Call placed his hands together, scowling. “ Please .”

“Whatever, it works,” the other boy said, settling onto his bed with his legs crossed. “Go on, the first thing you need to do is go greet my mom at the front door.”

“Just to let you know, I still hate you,” Call said, heading towards the window, still fully dressed in Jasper’s pajamas. 

“Ditto,” the other boy replied back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Aaron stretched out like a cat, his legs dangling off of his bed haphazardly. It had been a lazy,  easy break for him after destroying the castle. He had even been able to secure Call’s phone number before he had left, which had left his summer coloured with a different distinctive sort of excitement. Texting back and forth with Call always left him with an odd sort of feeling of elation, and weirdness too. It wasn’t a bad feeling he had decided early on, in fact it was refreshing meeting someone so different. Everyone at Ecclesia adored him for a title that didn’t belong to him, but Call was an outsider, he didn’t understand what the name ‘Belmont’ meant. He was so different from everyone else it perplexed Aaron a lot of the time, but in a good way. Though, oddly enough, for the past few weeks he hadn’t been texting him back at all. Aaron hadn’t been particularly happy about that. 

    “Aaron!” Tamara exclaimed, rushing into his room without a second thought. The blonde hadn’t even known she was at his house in the first place. “You won’t even believe what I heard!”

    “Tamara! When did you get here? Master Rufus isn’t even here right now, how were you able to get in?” Aaron asked, moving into a sitting position.  Even though he had known Tamara for quite a while, and considered her one of his closest friends, he still felt awkward sitting in front of her in a measly mis-matching pair of  t-shirt and shorts. It felt wrong considering she was wearing all brand-name, iron-pressed clothing. She almost looked as if she was from a completely different world than him, which reminded him of a time they really had been once.

    “If I told you, I wouldn’t be able to come into your house and scare you anymore, so for now I’ll leave it up to your imagination,“ she said, plopping onto his bed beside him.  “So, anyway, you won’t believe what my mom heard while she was at a council meeting at the Order.”

    “The council members gossip a lot Tamara, no offense, but I don’t think we can take any of their info without a grain of salt.”

    “No- listen they do gossip a lot, but this was Ms. DeWinter talking to my mom about Jasper . There is no way she would lie about her own son.” Tamara paused for a second, looking to see if he was hooked yet.  “So apparently Jasper invited some mysterious dark-haired friend to his house, and Aaron, I know you and Jasper don’t really get along well, but he never invites anyone to his house.”

Aaron looked at Tamara, genuinely surprised. He had texted Jasper at the beginning of the summer, hopeful that maybe their trials might have brought them closer together, but he had been left on ‘read’ just as he had been for the past few years. Hearing that he had gone outside of his comfort zone and invited someone over was a good thing. Aaron was happy for him. 

    “Isn’t that a good thing? Jasper branching out to new friends?”

Tamara shook her head dramatically. 

    “Dark-haired friend? That is so obviously Call, Aaron! Don’t you remember when they were obviously in cahoots in the castle, and in Ecclesia? With the fake staged demon thing? Now Jasper’s invited him over to his house and they're plotting something else there!”

    “Tamara,” Aaron began, falling back onto his bed. “They became friends okay? That doesn’t mean they were in cahoots, or anything suspicious. It just means they like each other’s company.”

    “Come on Aaron. Call is so obviously hiding something. Just because you’re nice doesn’t mean you’re blind, I know you could tell something was off about him too,” Tamara said.

    “I mean, yeah Call did seem kind of secretive, and I think he’s hiding something too, but nothing evil. He has his secrets, and we have ours. It's not anything personal.”

    “But it is,” Tamara pushed, leaning forward on her palms. “Or why else would he have lied to us in Ecclesia?”

Chapter Text

It was sharp and painful, that was all he could remember before all of his senses were engulfed by darkness. His mind stayed like that for a while, empty and devoid of any thoughts. Alistair desperately wanted to get up, and grab Call. He wanted to hold him and tell him the truth of it all, but his legs wouldn’t comply and soon enough his mind’s eye shifted from the darkness and began replaying another wave of his memories long past. 

It had been chilly that day, grey clouds covered the sun and a light rain had begun to water the earth. It was on this particular day that Alistair, and the rest of his apprentice-group too, had been ordered out on a mission. Missions were only assigned to upperclassmen, and typically used to keep teeming monster populations at bay and to keep students on their heels. Alistair personally found them very annoying. Yet, at the time they should have been leaving- around dawn or so- he found himself to be the only person to have shown up at Ecclesia’s front gates. The rest of his apprentice-group was missing. Neither pair of the two rule-following twins had decided to show up and lend a hand. It was just him, alone in the rain. At least that was what he thought until a gloved hand caught his shoulder.

Constantine stood behind him, wearing a long overcoat and even longer leather boots.  Sarah had been correct when she noted he never wore the school uniform, he really never did.

"You weren't planning to leave without me were you? Alistair?"

"I was planning on leaving without all of you, actually, " he replied, not meeting his expectant gaze. "Where's your brother and the rest of our group?"

Constantine smiled carelessly towards the sky as if he enjoyed being rained on. “They’re not here, obviously. But anyway, it shouldn't be a problem if we complete the job without all of them. We're unstoppable with just the two of us anyway."

“I’m sure you could take out the threat by yourself too if you wanted. There only needs to be one of us so-”

Constantine hooked their arms together swiftly before he could turn away, gaining a frown from Alistair. 

    “Come on Ali, it's together or nothing,” he said, in a sing-song voice. “Plus, the rest of them will have to owe us after this, and I’m all in for having Jericho do my homework. Declan is pretty good at massaging too.”

    “Whatever, let's just get this over with,” Alistar muttered, rolling his eyes. He was pretty sure Constantine would force Jericho and Declan to do his tasks even if they didn’t owe him. Though, Alistair would admit he would be happy to force both Novak twins to wash his muddy boots after trodding through the swamp. He wouldn’t force Jericho, he was too nice. 

Their mission was a simple one: To wipe-out a new horde of Une-Men in Argila Swamp, which was a place just north of the Order itself. Equipped with his wide array of guns, his now grossly muddy boots, and now Constantine at his side, he set out across the plain and toward the swamp. They were ready to take down whatever monstrosity came their way.

Turned out, he had less to worry about monsters and a lot more to worry about terrain. As soon as Alistair entered the swamp he wished he had remained in his bed where he was warm and comforted by the smell of burning wax…Probably how the rest of his group was at the moment. Instead, he was struggling to walk through the marsh with thick clumps of dead vegetation clinging to the soles of his feet while simultaneously trying to fight away a swarm of bugs that threatened to suffocate his orifices. Unlike the cold rain that was currently pelting down on him, the air within the swamp was moist and humid, with weird hot bubbles popping underfoot and releasing putrid scents that smelled distinctly of methane and rotted eggs. Part of him wanted to tear off his uniform and embrace the chill of the droplets, and the other half of him wanted to huddle down and warm his hands over some of the marsh lights that were floating about. They were both awful ideas and the bugs and grass made it all the worse. 

 Constantine on the other hand, seemed to acclimate to the new surroundings of the swamp perfectly. Instead of sinking into the muck, he seemed to walk above it and when Alistair walked behind him, the only scent he smelled was of his cologne rather than any weird marsh smells. Constantine even walked with his signature smirk painted on his face boldly, as if he dared the swamp to try and disturb his perfection. Alistair wanted to purposefully throw dirt on his face… That was probably another bad idea. 

A low groan echoed across the swamp, alerting both boys to the Une-men’s position, and thankfully distracting Alistair from his own personal misery. He quickly knelt down, hidden by the group of cat-tails and set up his sniping rifle, attached a scope, and zoomed in on his targets. Une-men were simply well-fed Une who had grown over their victim’s corpses and taken control. What that meant was that they had no sensory organs. Not vision, or hearing, or anything else, which only helped make them a particularly easy target to take down. 

    “Leave them to me, you don’t even need to draw your weapon,” he whispered to Constantine, who he assumed was still nearby, though out of his view.

Alistair needed only fifteen minutes before the entire horde was dead. The job was done. 

Slinging his gun over his shoulder, he began rising to his feet before something pulled tightly on his ankle. He reached his hand downward into the swampy vegetation and pulled hard on whatever had gotten stuck around his leg, only to find it getting tighter. It was only a matter of seconds before he was swept off his feet and dangled upside down in front of some large brown mass. He couldn’t tell what had grabbed him, his glasses seemed to have fallen off in the commotion.

    “Alistair!” Constantine shouted from somewhere. He couldn’t see his blonde companion anywhere at the moment.

 Frantically, Alistair grabbed his hand gun and shot manically at the blurry mass. Whatever had coiled around his ankle dropped him while it winced at the barrage of oncoming bullets, and he was released head-first back into the muck beneath them. After groping around blindly, his hands finally came across the familiar, yet badly cracked pair of glasses he had lost. He swiftly returned them to their place on his face and squinted between the cracks. Through his shattered glasses, he was finally able to identify his assaulter. 

A large, thick tree stood some distance away with two large brown eyes and a malicious grin that displayed its blunt human-like teeth. It’s branches were decorated with large red fruits with different human faces; they were all laughing heartily, their small expressions pinched and hysterical.

Constantine was standing in front of him protectively, his longsword drawn and his face stern. 

    “H-human-face tree,” Alistair stuttered, slipping backwards in an attempt to make distance between himself and his enemy. He had only read about such creatures in his textbooks in Ecclesia, he had never faced one in life before. “These shouldn’t be here, they aren’t native to Argila swamp…”

    “You’re right, they shouldn’t be,” Constantine murmured, a dangerous smile gracing his lips. “But when did the world ever play by fair rules?”

    “When did the world become your enemy?” Alistair asked, as he rolled out of the way of an oncoming root. He was already reloading his rifle, he just needed one moment to set up once again. 

The pair didn’t need to communicate, they had worked together enough times in the past to know each other's preferences. Constantine dashed forward recklessly, sweeping his blade downward in a devastating arc. The approaching roots crumbled into the marsh successfully defeated, but the body of the tree itself showed no sign of stopping its oncoming attacks. 

A wicked vine shot through water, snake-like in its movement, and wrapped around Constantine’s ankle. Alistair was swift in cutting it, his lips thinning.

    “Constantine, the tree has more ground than you think! His roots are everywhere, don't misstep- Dodge right!” 

The blonde leaped from his initial position, grabbing ahold of one of the branches on the right side of the tree, however, he found no reprieve there. The giggling fruits wiggled to and fro, releasing a sickly red powder.

“Get away from the branches,” Alistair shouted, aiming and shooting at the branch that Constantine hung from. It fell dead and blackened into the muck, splashing the blonde with a much needed mud-bath. Alistair wouldn’t admit to it being purposeful. “That powder affects the human body like a super-anesthetic. If you’d inhaled that you wouldn’t be moving for the next ten years.”

    The blonde looked at him, half his face covered in dirt, and his completely white outfit sullied. “I don’t know whether to be more afraid of the tree, or of your aim . I swear you did this on purpose.”

Alistair grinned toothily, but said nothing on the topic, instead choosing to turn his attention back to his rifle. “Hurry up and kill this thing, I’m out of ammo for my rifle. I can only support you using my handgun now.”

“Your wish is my command,” Constantine promised, spinning on his heel and re-engaging with the tree.

 From Alistair’s point of view, it seemed like the blonde’s blade wasn’t doing much damage to the rather sturdy girth of wood he slashed at. Every piece of wood he cut away from the body of the trunk would only give way to more wood; they needed something more destructive, more combustible. 

Reaching into his uniform, he pulled out one of his flash-grenades along with a packet of matches. The grenades were homemade so he wasn’t sure how well they would ignite, but really, burning itself seemed a long way off considering how soggy his match-box was; there was no way he would create a strong enough flame to even set off his grenades. He glanced around the swamp and then felt another smile tugging at his lips: the marsh lights would work perfectly for his uses.

Before he could make his way over to one the lingering flames, a long root shot out at him, evil and dangerous in its intent, Alistair’s revelation was cut short as he hastily attempted to dodge the oncoming attack. But the wood was too fast and cut into the side of his torso deeply. For a moment all he could see was the thick red liquid oozing from his side. In his dazed state, he tried to limp away but he was suddenly faced with another body of a tree. There were two Human-face trees. He felt his knees wobble underneath his suddenly very heavy body. There was a reason he never fought on the front-lines. Alistair was thin, he refused to exercise, and held a strong opinion about eating desserts with every meal. He wasn’t quick and agile like Sarah, or strong and fierce like Constantine. All he had was a sharp eye, and an odd proficiency with firearms. Not that any of that really mattered now though, considering he was about to die. 

Alistair dully felt a root wrap around his waist and pull him backward slowly. The laughter of the fruits grew louder and louder in his ears and the last thing he saw before his vision darkened was the blunt human-teeth of the Human-Face tree.

When Alistair woke up again, his nostrils were filled with the strong smell of antiseptic and his eyes were blinded by the fluorescent lights above him. It took a moment for his senses to adjust to the unfamiliar surroundings, but after a second everything became blurry blob-like shapes. That was how his vision usually looked without his glasses. 

    “Alistair Hunt. Admitted at 18:30 with severe head injuries that resulted in a concussion. You were missing half of your torso, your lung was punctured and had multiple large splinters in it. To top it off, you were also half-digested by the time I got to you. Do you wanna explain why you didn’t shout to me to come save you?”

Ignoring the familiar sound of Constantine’s annoying voice for the moment, Alistair reached for his glasses to where he supposed the bedside table was before wincing painfully and retracting his arm.

    “Tell Amaranth to up the pain meds,” he muttered, letting himself sag into the hospital bed. Even doing something as mundane as that hurt. 

Constantine laughed dryly, slipping his glasses on his nose for him. “Answer my questions and then I’ll tell her. You know, if I wasn’t so thorough, you could have died.”

“I didn’t know there were two trees,” Alistair grumbled in response. 

“There were actually five.”

Once the blobs turned into shapes, Alistair couldn’t help but direct his glare at Constantine. He was dressed sharply in a pair of white slacks with a crisp white shirt and lavender vest. In his hands were a fork and plate of cake and his annoying patronizing smile was on at full force. If Alistair hadn’t been bedridden, he would have been very tempted to punch him in the nose.

    “Connie, stop it,” Jericho chided, entering with Declan at his side. Alistair didn’t mind Jericho, in fact he rather enjoyed his presence contrary to his brother’s. Declan on the other hand, well, he was a bit of a wild card at times. “He’s in the infirmary, can’t you be a little nicer to him right now?”

Constantine rolled his eyes, clearly ready to say something snarky, but Declan couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut any longer and he excitedly placed his hands on the side rails, shaking the entire bed.

    “Hey buddy, how are you feeling?”

    Alistair frowned and looked Declan straight in the eyes. “Horrible. Being dead would be better.”

Constantine chuckled very obviously behind his hand, and Jericho stared forward, slightly horrified. Declan dissolved into nervous laughter and he looked backwards at Jericho for any sign of help.

    “He- he's kidding right?”

Jericho nodded quickly, looking hopefully towards Constantine. 

Alistair turned to Constantine once more, grabbing the plate of cake from his hands and taking a large bite out of it himself. The sweet cream did only a little to calm his current irritation. “Where were you guys? That was supposed to be a group mission, but none of you showed up. Speaking of which, where is Sarah?  Why isn’t she here?”

    “Oh Sarah was waiting here for you for the past two nights,” Declan said casually. “She said something about wanting to be the first person to see you up, but she actually just ended up tiring herself out, and then Jericho finally told her to go to bed.”

    “D-Declan, that's enough, she said she didn’t want him to know,” Jericho whispered, putting a hand on his friend’s shoulder. Then he turned his focus back to Alistair, as if he hadn’t been sitting there the entire time. “You mentioned something about a group mission, but our mission is planned for the last day of this month. There was nothing planned beforehand. Did you guys maybe misread the calendar?”

Alistair glared at Jericho for a moment before his gaze softened. “No, I didn’t check the calendar at all, I just got the reminder email on my phone.”

At that, he reached down to his pocket, but belatedly realized he was wearing nothing aside from hospital-trousers and a myriad of criss-crossed bandages on his chest.

“Where's my phone?”

    “I don’t think your phone survived the digestive tree-juices. Mine didn’t even survive the humid swamp air. But, either one of us can show you the email on a computer.” Constantine said, his silver eyes thoughtful. That was usually never a good thing. 

    “Someone set us up,” Alistair claimed calmly. “Someone sent that message to us and planted five invasive trees in an attempt to kill us. There is someone at this school who wants me or Constantine dead.”

Declan’s eyes widened comically and his lips went thin. “But you didn’t, you guys survived.”

“Luckily,” Constantine said, ever thoughtful. “Even I’ll admit that wasn’t an easy battle to win. If I had even been slightly off of my game, both of us would have been tree-food.”

Constantine and Jericho shared a brief look.

“Are either of you going to explain what that look meant or are me and Declan going to be left guessing?” Alistair asked, taking another bite of cake.

“What would you guess it means?” Constantine asked, a lopsided grin back on his face.

Jericho moved a tuft of his dark hair out of his face and looked down to his feet, a nervous laugh escaping his lips. 

    “It's just a twin thing. Nothing that needs to be worried about.”

Alistair stared at him, silently. He took another, smaller, bite of cake and spoke carefully. 

    “My guess would be that both of you have some idea why Constantine was targeted, and have been waiting for it for some time.”

Declan scratched the back of his head awkwardly. “Wait, how did you…?”

Alistair picked up the last bite of cake, but Constantine took the fork from his hand and popped it into his mouth before a word could be said between them. They glared at each other for a moment before the blonde broke their standoff. 

“How impressive!” He praised, mockingly. Constantine leaned on the palm of his hand and furrowed his brows, his smile remaining. “I think you should stick to the hospital for now Alistair. Leave these sorts of problems to those of us that can deal with them. ”

“Right, I don’t know what exactly we’re all talking about, but I’m sure we’ll do okay without you buddy. We still have one brain on the team,” Declain cheered, raising his fists above his face as if he had been included in Constantine’s ‘us’. 

 Jericho smiled fondly at his friend. He had always been grateful for positivity, and Alistair didn’t blame him when he had grown up with a brother like Constantine. Whatever that meant.

The sound of a wind chime whistled past his ears, sharp and discordant. Alistair looked around wildly; there had never been a wind chime in the infirmary. He looked to each of his friends’ faces in search of an answer, but he could no longer look upon them. Their faces had melted into darkness. 

Alistair sat up, cold horror seeping into his veins. Rain was pounding on the widows of his shop and wind seemed to grip the thin walls, shaking them. He was still gripping Vampire Killer.

    “C-Callum,” he rasped, gripping the nearby counter to help him rise to his feet. He raised his hand to his throat, the flash of a painful memory silencing him. He glimpsed his reflection in a discarded shard of mirror near his feet: the collar of his shirt was dyed crimson, his skin was as white as snow. 

Blurry memories surfaced in his mind as if he was remembering a fever-dream, but he knew he couldn’t have been that lucky. Callum had seen him with Joseph, he had witnessed the entire thing. Vampire Killer suddenly felt like dead weight in his hand; it had already been so heavy to bear with just its original burden, but now it seemed to outweigh the world. 

The storage room was a complete mess. Shards of glass stuck out of the walls, artifacts he had spent months restoring laid destroyed and forgotten. At any other moment, Alistair might have felt something at seeing his craft so thoroughly demolished. Looking at it right at this moment he felt nothing. None of it mattered. Not even his Rolls-Royce parked in the front of his store. The only thing that mattered was Callum. His son, who just had the knack of being in places at the wrong time. He needed to find him quickly, and rectify the situation. He couldn’t tell him the truth of the matter within the walls of the shop, he was almost sure Joseph had tapped it using either magic or modern-technology. His entire plan would be at stake if Joseph were to suspect him, he simply couldn’t have risked it. He couldn’t have risked telling the truth to Callum at the time he needed to hear it most. 

Alistair sagged against the wall briefly, letting the tension in his muscles release for just a moment before standing to his full height once again. He would find Call, and make the situation right. Clearly, no matter how badly he didn’t want his son involved in the affairs of Ecclesia and the Vampires he no longer had a choice in it. He had never wanted to get Call implicated in the mess it all was, not when he could so easily live a happy pleasant life ignorant of it all. 

Alistair knew he had messed up, he didn’t need anyone to tell him. Aside from stopping Joseph’s plan, his only other duty in life was to protect and raise Call. And the latter of the two was by far the most important, and it also just so happened to be the duty he had failed miserably at. 

Alistair stepped into the cold rain, choosing instead to follow Call’s supposed path home rather than taking his car. The chill felt enlivening, biting and frigid as it was on his skin. Callum wouldn’t have felt it, not the chill or the warmth. He probably didn’t feel most things considering the point he was at. A flash of a memory crossed Alistair’s mind in that moment, a memory of Call. His eyes had been desperate, his words pleading. He may not have been able to feel the temperature, or even pain, but he surely still felt emotions just as immensely as he had before. 

Alistair traced the pathway to their home slowly, allowing the rain to wash away the stains of regret from his face. Sarah would have been so terribly disappointed in him.

Chapter Text

The first week had passed living with Jasper, and so far neither one of them was dead, which Call counted as a total victory on his part. That didn’t mean death-threats hadn’t been thrown out every few minutes in the beginning, but they were past that now. They were tolerant of one another. There had only been one moment he had even gotten close to getting into trouble.

It had been early one morning when Jasper had, as usual, woken up before him. Typically, the Asian boy forced him to rise early in the morning as well, to supposedly begin his training earlier. In his own personal opinion, it was just one of Jasper's roundabout ways of torturing him. The morning had begun just like every other morning, with Call making his way over to the bathroom they shared. Only this time, he found something was missing and frowned. 

    “I think Havoc ate my toothbrush,” he said conversationally, looking over at the other boy. “Do you have a spare…”

Jasper finished scrubbing his teeth roughly, spit into the sink, and looked up at him. 

    “Yeah, there should be one in the cabinet down there.”

Call locked eyes with Jasper, his eyes moving to look at the boy’s wrist. He was holding a very familiar white toothbrush.

    “That was my toothbrush,” Call muttered, glancing at him.

 Both boys stared at each other, the air still.

    “But this has been my toothbrush for the past six months,” Jasper claimed, the beginning of horror appearing on his face. 

Call looked to the toothbrush and back to Jasper’s face multiple times before silence enveloped them both. 

    “You left it out for me though, on the day I first got here….” 

    “You say that like I was expecting you to show up here!” Jasper cried, spitting and wiping his mouth exageratedly. “That is disgusting! I can’t believe you-”

    “How did you not notice earlier?!” Call exclaimed, ready to start spitting himself. That was until he realized he had already drank Jasper’s blood and had probably been infected with any possible diseases already. Sharing a toothbrush wasn’t going to do any more damage. “Wait- nevermind, I’m actually fine. You wanna wash your mouth out with soap? It would help you in more ways than one."

Call waved a convenient bar of soap in his face, but Jasper slapped it out of his hand and it fell sadly into the sink. The soap had not comforted him.

"Ew, ew, ewww!! I have Vampire germs in my mouth! A week's worth of them!" Jasper complained, wiping his tongue on his bath towel. “I am so going to get you back!”

Call just laughed at him, finding solace in the other boy’s discomfort. His mirth didn’t seem to cool Jasper down any. If anything, it seemed to make him even more mad. Call was barely able to dodge out of the way when Jasper half-lunged at him. 

“Stop laughing! I swear I’m going to-” 

Call didn’t wait for him to finish, throwing open his bedroom door and dashing out of sight. Jasper hadn’t missed the fact he was still laughing and followed after him, anger fueling his every step. The chase lasted the entire day, only ending when Jasper could not, for the life of him, find where he had disappeared to. That had been when Call discovered he could hang off the ceiling, like a bat. He had ended up falling asleep like that and only woke when evening had come. 

From there, Call had been the one seeking after Jasper. And he slowly drifted around the house in search of the other boy. When he couldn’t find him inside, he slowly made his way outside to continue looking. 

The air was warm when he went outside, it smelled of autumn. In support of this, the trees had already begun shedding their golden and red leaves, decorating the front porch in their bright colours. The scent of rain still lingered, and dew glittered along the blades of grass while the soft chirp of crickets echoed around him. It was rather nice, Call decided. He rarely felt the warmth of sun on his skin anymore, and at this point even the last of it’s golden rays were appreciated. 

 After breathing in the last breaths of summer, Call finally caught sight of Jasper sitting in the abandoned greenhouse, his clothes muddy and wrinkled. His hands were covered in dirt, and he was surrounded by a group of newly planted daisies. Their white petals glowed in the midst of so much decay. They had not been there when Call had first arrived.

    “Hey,” he said, plopping down next to Jasper in the dirt. The other boy didn’t seem surprised at his arrival, if anything he seemed to have been expecting it.

“Where were you all day? I called you for like three hours.” Jasper asked dryly. Then having seemed to remember, he knocked him on the head familiarly. “You deserve more of a beating, but I’m tired now so you can get away with it for today.”

“I fell asleep,” Call said by way of an explanation. “But, hey I didn’t know you would ever do something that made your hands dirty. When did you even learn to garden?”

Jasper looked at him for a moment, his eyes narrowed, before sighing and falling back onto his hands. His gaze was upturned toward the ever-rising moon. “My dad used to like doing it, I just picked up a few things here and there.”

Call unconsciously felt his lips thin. Jasper’s dad had betrayed Ecclesia and defected to Dracula’s side. Aaron had been the one to tell him about that. Jasper never spoke of his father and it didn’t really take a lot of reasoning to guess why. At this point in time, Call was definitely on the same page with his own dad. 

After humming his reply, both boys returned to sitting in silence, each one consumed by his own thoughts. 

    “Can I ask you something?” Call asked, staring at the other boy’s profile. Illuminated by only moonlight, Jasper looked so different. His face and eyes glowed with a brightness he had never seen before in his face, an artificial hope. 

    “If you're gonna say something about my hair or my good cleanly habits, then don’t ask.”

Call leaned forward, his eyes suddenly sincere. “I was gonna ask why you let me stay.”

For the first time that evening, Jasper’s eyes flickered away from the light of the moon. He looked towards Call then, unsaid words resting on his tongue.

“I,” he paused, licking his lips and looking back towards the moon. “There was this time, it must have been a few years ago now… My dad, he-he came back.”

Call didn’t dare interrupt him. If he spoke now, he was afraid Jasper would never tell him about his reasons again. He could tell how difficult it was for him to open up. He was tripping on his words just as Call had when he had come dripping wet through Jasper’s window. They were both the same in that way: neither of them were good with telling their personal truths. 

“He didn’t tell my mom or anything, he just took advantage of the fact I was his son. He stayed, living in the closet of my room for months while I would sneak meals and first aid to him. Drew was the only person who knew, my best guess is that Master Joseph and my dad were in contact and he told Drew.” Jasper cleared his throat abruptly, and looked towards Call’s face frowning. “Anyway, none of that matters. What I’m trying to say is…I’ve lived with someone evil before, and from what I can tell, you're not the same as him.”

    “Even though I’m Dracula, though?”

    Japer shrugged, like being Dracula was an everyday problem. “I mean, vampires are evil and they suck, but I don’t really see why humans are that much better. ”

It was a brief moment of honesty, Call realized. A moment when Jasper wasn’t being annoying or egotistical, he was just being himself. It was a side of him that Call had never even known existed.

    “I guess you’re not wrong,” he conceded, folding his hands in his lap.

The corner of Jasper’s mouth turned upwards. “I’m never wrong.”

    ~~~~~~

“You know, you should do my laundry.” Jasper said, lounging on a cushioned arm chair lazily. “Oh, and you should make me something for lunch too, I think that would be nice.”

Call narrowed his eyes at the other boy, a quip on the tip of his tongue, but Jasper’s mom looked at him disdainfully before he even got a chance to try  the other boy. 

    “Jasper, he is our guest for a few weeks, show him proper hospitality. You should be doing his laundry and making his lunch.” She smiled sweetly and then turned towards Call. “He only acts this way because he is a little shy. He really does enjoy your friendship.”

    “Wha-” Jasper interjected, caught unaware.

    “Alright, I have to go to work now! Take care of the house, be safe,” she called, as she exited. Everyday she left their house early in the morning, and most days Call didn’t stay downstairs long enough to see her return. She worked long hours which led Call to realize that before his arrival, Jasper had mostly been alone.

Part of him thought that Tamara would be coming over everyday, or someone, something, anything. But no, Jasper was almost always by himself. It was appalling, really. Call at least could, or at least had been able to, talk with Alistair.  

 Jasper’s face was currently lowered, his ears pink while he vehemently denied his mother’s words. It was kind of endearing to watch. True, he had only been living with Jasper for a few weeks, but he was already growing used to his habits. This sort of reaction probably meant that his mom had hit the mark and while Call could have rubbed it in his face, he didn’t. They were both trying to be nicer to each other and get along. Call had to save his quips for when Jasper really needed a verbal beating. 

They actually had been doing pretty well at being nice to each other. Jasper was in no way a kind or sensitive individual, in fact he wasn’t even all that condescending either, he just liked putting a lot of effort into his appearance. Call had already picked up on that, but he hadn’t realized how much effort the Asian boy put into appearing put together everyday. The guy woke up every morning and spent an hour on his hair even when he wasn’t planning to go anywhere. He even showered every day. Call didn’t know there were guys that actually did that. Jasper was so excessive in every sense of the word it was shocking. And yet, at the same time he was also better in some ways than Call had anticipated: Heturned out to be a surprisingly intuitive teacher. He was able to explain things thoroughly, and, through some telepathic madness, always seemed to be able to tell when Call wasn’t understanding a concept. Even despite not knowing magic, Jasper seemed to know where and how to guide him in potency, strength, and control. It was honestly more impressive then Call wanted him to know. 

Another great thing was that it provided him with a helpful distraction. Almost the entire time Call had been able to avoid thinking about his dad at all. Almost .

    “Okay, so, anyway,” Jasper began his hand in a bag of chips. He seemed to have gone and picked it up while Call had been thinking. “I’ve spent a while training you as any honourable good teacher would to their bat-headed pupil, and I’ve decided it's time to discuss the end-goal of our Captain-Fish Head plan.”

The Captain-Fish Head plan was their secret codename that actually referred to Call’s vampirism, and their plan to keep it hidden and him alive. Since they were alone together so often, however, Jasper usually would just speak plainly. 

    “Uh-huh, and what’s your genius goal, oh great and honourable teacher?” he asked, plopping down next to him and taking a few chips for himself. 

    “You come to Ecclesia with me,” Jasper said pragmatically. 

Call spit his half-chewed chip on his face, at a complete loss. 

    “Y-you’re kidding, right?”

    “No, I wasn’t,” Jasper said, wiping his face. “I was being completely serious. Listen, if you're in Ecclesia, you’ll be safe from Master Joseph and your dad. Not only that, since you’ll be attending as a student they won’t even suspect you of being a vampire.”

Call frowned, while Jasper’s reasoning was solid, it failed to address the fact that even a tiny slip up could end up exposing him and getting him burned on a stake.

“And, as a cherry on top, you’ll be able to study about the Bloodstone and how to remove it or something. If either of us are ever going to find a way to rid you of your vampirism, it will definitely be in Ecclesia.”

    “Wait- What is a Bloodstone?”

Jasper waited for him to laugh and claim he was joking, but when he didn’t he sighed. “I forgot you have literally no idea what it means to be Dracula. The Bloodstone is like the thing that gives Dracula his powers. It makes you invincible to everything except Vampire Killer, which is why I really recommend you lay low when you’re around Aaron. He acts nice, but that guy has the nose of a freaking bloodhound. Anyway, back to the Bloodstone, all of that power and stuff you gain is balanced out by the fact that it also curses you with vampirism. Before the last Dracula, the Order of Ecclesia was actually just looking for the Bloodstone to destroy, which is probably what they're going to do now since they thought Drew was Dracula’s heir.”

“So if I have the Bloodstone, can’t I just take it out? And go back to normal?”

“I-  I don’t know, all of the stuff we’re taught at school is theoretical since no one has actually seen it for the past hundred years... Remind me again how we even know you are Dracula, and not just a random vampire? Cause Tamara could fix you up easily if you were.”

    “I was a normal vampire when I drank your blood,” Call said, sighing himself. “All I know is that as soon as Drew- as soon as Drew died, I had this overwhelming feeling of power come over me and I started feeling really weird and super strong. And I also remember random unnatural things that I have no idea about. Like, there's this one thing it's called, like Project Dominus , and I’m guessing it's a name for something, but I have no idea what it is. Also I get random impulses to drink blood, dominate humanity, and make my own castle but ever since I’ve come to your house those haven’t been that bad.” 

    “Hmmm,” Jasper put a hand to his chin like he was a detective. “Yeah, I’ve got no idea what all that means either, but I think my point still stands. As long as you’re a vampir-”

A loud knock resounded on the door that was quickly followed by a loud familiar voice.

    “Jasper! I’ve been texting you that I’m coming over, but you didn’t answer so I just came and brought lunch! Open the door already and let me in!” 

Tamara. It was Tamara’s voice. She had come to visit Jasper. It was less than a week before the normal school-year began, which made her kind of late, but a visit from a friend was surely still appreciated. Call guessed Jasper would be happy. When he turned to look at him, however, Jasper’s face was white as a sheet, one of his hands plastered to his mouth as if he had been caught spewing obscenities left and right.  

    “Go, hide,” he mouthed silently to Call.

    “Why?” Call whispered back loudly. He had never been good at whispering.

    “Because she can’t know you’re here!” Jasper whisper-shouted back, running his hands through his hair. “If Aaron is a blood-hound, then Tamara is a hawk . She doesn’t miss anything!”

Call wanted to argue with him but instead rolled his eyes and complied, trudging up the stairs at a slow pace. As Jasper walked past the stairwell, he looked back up at him with worry in his eyes.

“Go outside as soon as she comes in, that way there's no chance she’ll see you!”

    “That's overkill-”

    “Just do it!” Jasper demanded, grabbing a hold of the door knob. Call didn’t wait around for Tamara to stride in, he was sure Jasper hadn’t been exaggerating when comparing her to a hawk. Tamara was sharp. On the other hand, he didn’t understand why he needed to hide from her. Maybe Jasper didn’t want to be caught living with him. Call didn’t blame him too much for that, he wasn’t really that proud of intruding in the deWinter household himself. After reaching the third, and final floor of the house, Call realized he had actually gone a bit higher than he had intended in his haste and made it into the attic. It was cold and dark within, with dust motes floating about. The air was stale, as if no one had been in the room for a while. It held a mysterious sort of feeling, as if there was something hidden that needed to be uncovered.

Not wanting to waste anymore time, Call swiftly opened the nearby window and hastily began stepping outside onto the roof. He and Jasper had used this window countless times in the past as a way to try and trigger his bat form,  but it had never worked. Instead he had only learned to land on his feet every time he fell, which would have been super useful back in Dracula’s- or his own- castle. Because Tamara was around though, Call wasn’t too keen on displaying his new athletic abilities. Just in the name of caution, he would climb down the trellis instead and then make his way over to the local video game store, or something. 

He latched onto the top bar of the trellis and began making his way down. It was an old piece of woodwork, once painted white though now it looked to be coloured more brown and green. Ivy engulfed the entire structure, making it difficult to see where he should place his feet, but it wasn’t impossible to climb down. At least that was what he had thought.

    “Call?!” 

For a second Call felt his brain short-circuit. Pausing mid-step, he turned his head to look down, and then felt his cursed soul leap out of his body. Aaron was standing below him, far below him. Call placed his foot on the next rung, only to feel it fall through under his weight.

    “C-Crap!” he cried out, holding onto the splintering wood with his hands as best as he could. True, he had fallen a dozen times, but those had all been intentional jumps. And since Aaron had somehow randomly showed up here, if he was to fall, he would have to let himself fall on his butt. Call was sure that would hurt like hell. As if listening to his desperate thoughts, the wood underneath his clawing fingers made a sickening crack.

 “I’m good!” he called out, as it fully broke underneath his weight. That was the last time he would ever be using a trellis as a ladder. He had always seen it work in the movies. The wood probably had something against him, or maybe against Dracula. Everyone seemed to have a problem with Dracula. Call closed his eyes for impact and then smiled a bit when he landed delicately in someone’s arms. Aaron had caught him out of the air, yet again. What a hero. 

Call turned and smiled when their eyes met, Aaron looked different from the last time he had seen him. His complexion was warmer, and freckles dotted his cheeks, surely from plenty of time spent in the sun. Dark circles no longer underlined his bright eyes, and for once, he looked free of worry and strife. The change, however, didn’t only have to do with his health, a lot of the blonde’s features seemed to have gotten sharper and more prominent as well. It also happened to be the first time Call had seen Aaron wearing normal clothes: he wore a low-hanging tank top with a pair of shorts. It was so normal it almost felt wrong.

“I should be used to this by now, shouldn’t I?” Call asked, wrapping his arms familiarly around his friend’s neck to keep balance.

Aaron sighed, shaking his head, though the action seemed slightly fond… At least Call hoped it was.

 “Call, what were you even doing up there, you could’ve gotten seriously hurt,” the blonde began before lowering his head and looking very disappointed. Call didn’t know why he felt his stomach drop.

“I only let myself fall cause’ I knew you were standing there,” he claimed a bit defensively. Aaron didn’t know that he was a vampire and wouldn’t get hurt from such a fall so of course the idea scared him. It only made sense, but why did it seem like there was something else hidden in his words... “Why’re you making that face?” 

“Do you wanna know what Tamara said to me before we got here?” Aaron questioned, his eyes still downcast. Call nodded forcefully. “She said that anyone that's not guilty won’t try to escape.”

Tamara’s words hung in the air for a moment, making the sunny patch of grass they stood on ten degrees cooler. Call couldn’t help but pull his arms away from Aaron’s neck as if he had been burned.

 He had been expecting a happy, exciting reunion with Aaron, not suspicion. What did he have to be suspicious of him for anyway? Call had been very smart in all of their past interactions, so much so that he was practically sure he had nothing to be guilty of. At least nothing that the other boy would know of.

    “Guilty? Me?” Call asked, burying his face into the crook of Aaron’s shoulder. The action was done partially to avoid the bright sun that was shining down on them, and to avoid the blonde’s keen gaze. He would cling to his persona of false ignorance. “What could lil’ ol’ innocent me be up to?”

Call felt his nose prick as he maintained his position. Aaron smelled of spice, and brown sugar. He smelled really good, actually. But it was more than that too. Being this close, Call could smell the very scent of his skin: woody and warm; he could smell his blood . A strong impulse shuddered through his entire being, and he could feel his fangs ache with thirst. He was so close to Aaron, he could trace the outline of his neck, of his squaring jaw. He felt his mouth salivate. Call couldn’t remove his eyes from the exposed flesh, he could barely even stop himself from licking his lips hungrily.

    “Call?” Aaron said, his cheeks rosy. “W-What are you looking at?”

Call ripped his eyes from Aaron’s skin and looked back towards his face, at a complete loss. What had they even been going on about? He didn’t remember, all he knew was that he needed to make distance, stat . His mind was being weird yet again. Funny how it only seemed to conveniently happen around Aaron of all people. Around him he had to be specifically careful, he was a Belmont after all.

    “Your chest,” Call deadpanned before he felt his own dead skin heat up with a flush of embarrassment. He almost choked in his effort to speak afterwards. “I mean like- not your chest, but like you, uh, you have nice- you’ve got some cool muscles dude.”

He thought about giving Aaron double thumbs-up, but his brain was too busy short-circuiting to actually function.

    Aaron stared at him, eyes wide. His entire face was crimson, all the way down to his neck. “Th-th-thanks.”

“Okay you know what?” Call said, seriously. “You win by default this time. I am guilty as charged!” 

With that, he swiftly maneuvered out of Aaron’s hold and fled. He didn’t even think to fake his limp, he just wanted to get as far away as possible.

“Wha-t? But I haven’t even charged you with anything-” Aaron stuttered out, before watching the other boy dash away. “Hey- wait, Call!!!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Tamara strolled through the front door with a complete air of confidence. Jasper could tell she knew what she was doing, that she had probably planned some master plan of hers to dominate his entire house… Or maybe the entire universe, how was he to know? The only thing he was sure of was she was up to something, or else she would have never visited him during the summer.That wasn’t to say that Tamara wasn’t a really wonderful person, but there were some things she wouldn’t be able to understand. And he didn’t blame her for her curiosity, or hold it against her after all it all did boil down to one thing: she had almost always been a Belmont-worshipper like her parents. 

After removing her shoes and placing the lunch she had brought on the coffee-table, she looked around for a moment before turning her nose upwards. 

    “Where is he , Jasper?”

    “Where is who?” 

Tamara crossed her arms and tapped her foot against the wood floors impatiently. 

    “You know exactly who I’m talking about, but if you want me to spell it out for you, I will. Where is your current dark-haired resident, hmm? Callum Hunt?” 

Jasper plopped onto the couch carelessly. He even took the time to fold his legs, straighten his brand-name polo, and fake a large yawn. 

    “Call? Here? Tamara, come on, you’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, giving her a lazy smile. “I mean, since you seem so convinced you’re free to look, but you’re not gonna find him. Not in this house.”

Tamara narrowed her eyes at him and brought her fingers to her glossy lips, whistling a single sharp note, then the house was silent. 

“Go ahead, whistle, search, do whatever you wan-” Jasper paused as the scrambling of claws was heard from the upper areas of the house.

 Both he and Call had completely forgotten about the third, very excitable, resident of their temporary trio. Havoc bounded down the stairs, stopping only when he reached Tamara’s feet at which he then began barking and whining.  It slightly made him want to scream.

    “And who is this exactly, then?”

    “That,” Jasper said, displaying his best smile, “Is Fido. I don’t know exactly what you’re proving by involving my new wolf-dog-hybrid into this, but I think we’re both open to hearing what you have to say.”

Tamara opened her mouth, ready to say something snarky, but was interrupted as the front door flew open, and Callum of all people came dashing through it, looking winded minus the heavy breathing.They had talked about faking breath and stuff, it just seemed like Call was too air-headed to remember any of it.

    “Aaron was chasing me, and I swear that he is not actually related to a Belmont, he’s gotta be related to a cheetah, cause-” Call paused, stared for a moment and then stopped talking abruptly, lifting a hand in greeting. “Oh, hey Tamara.”

    “Hi, Call,” She said, enunciating each letter dutifully and then looking back at Jasper with her eyebrows raised. Her stinging gaze was back on Call in a few seconds. “Nice to hear from you since you decided to not text Aaron back for close to a month.”

Call looked downwards, and opened and closed his mouth a few times, as if he wanted to speak but wasn’t able to form any meaningful words.

“Okay, but how could you invite Aaron of all people to my house?” Jasper asked, crossing his arms. “I don’t want that guy here of all places!”

“There everyone is, hey Jasper,” Aaron greeted, walking through the open door with a smile. Jasper felt his own lips thin into an unhappy line at the blonde’s timing, now he really couldn’t say anything. Aaron approached Call, his arms crossed. It was definitely a mannerism he had picked up from Tamara. “I just wanted to talk to you, you didn’t have to run away.”

“How am I supposed to tell what you’re thinking? When someone starts chasing me, my first instinct is to run,” Call contended. Despite having raised his voice, there was no real heat in his words. He was probably laughing inside of his own puny head.

“We were in the middle of a conversation and you literally just ran!” Aaron replied, a smile threatening his tense facade. 

“So you were running from just Aaron in general,” Tamara said, her hand to her chin. “It's almost like you’re guilty of something, or like you’re hiding something. And considering how secretive you and Jasper have been, I think both Aaron and I deserve an explanation.”

Jasper shared a quick look with Call and smiled sinisterly in his head. He had known Tamara would catch onto them very early on, she was sharp and overly skeptical of most things. But Jasper had his own wealth of knowledge to pull from, and he was specifically talented when it came to hiding things. 

“Listen Call’s dad-” Jasper began, but Call quickly cut him off.

“I told my dad I wanted to go to Ecclesia, and he kind of got really mad and he,” Call averted his gaze from his two friends and then looked back to them hastily. Jasper knew it was something he did when he was lying, he only hoped that neither Tamara or Aaron had realized it too. “He tried to get me to stop talking to you guys which is why I stopped texting for so long, but Jasper and I were pen pals, so I just ended up running away and coming here.”

Aaron looked at him sympathetically, and with a flash of some other darker emotion, Jasper didn’t know nor care to identify. Tamara offered Call a saddened look, but was quickly on to her next question.

    “I’m really sorry Call, but that still doesn’t explain everything. What about that evil presence we felt in Ecclesia?”

    “His dad forced him to bring an imp back from Dracula’s Castle to Ecclesia, and gave him some weird sort of necklace to make its presence disappear, but the amulet fell off of it when Call got back to his room, and me being the hero I am, killed the damn thing right there.” Jasper said heroically. He could feel Call glowering at him and smirked a bit. “He just didn’t want me to tell the truth at the time, so I was just being nice and catering to him.”

    “Why did your dad want you to bring an imp back?” Aaron asked.

    “ I-I dunno,” Call muttered, still glaring daggers at Jasper. “I think he was trying to do some sort of research on monsters or something.”

    “Research on monsters? He’s not trying to do anything against Ecclesia is he?” Tamara asked, her expression stern. 

    “No, it's not like that. I think he just- I mean he probably just is trying to defend me and him if anything were to happen to us again.”

Tamara nodded understandingly and Jasper swore he saw Call sigh with relief. It seemed they had both passed her first interrogation, he could only hope they remained so lucky. 

    “Wait so does that mean you’re going to attend classes with us? At Ecclesia?” Aaron asked, his elation poorly hidden.

    “Yup,” Call said, shrugging. “You guys are gonna be stuck dealing with me for the next year and a half.”

Chapter Text

The last remaining weeks of summer passed in a single warm breath. Days spent lazing about, drinking cold drinks, and reading comic books all came to an abrupt end. Call didn’t even fully realize it until both he and Jasper were being driven to Ecclesia, the world flying by them in a blur of blue. Everything that had happened up to this moment had suddenly become more real than it ever had been before.

Becoming Dracula and losing Drew, his dad trying to kill him, Call almost killing his dad, and running away to Jasper of all people. Thinking back on all of it now, it almost seemed like one big nightmare. One big horrible mistake that couldn’t have possibly happened to anyone. And then he had made it into the DeWinter household... Being there had been like a pleasant diversion from everything, a much-needed distraction for his mind. Sure he was constantly being grilled with lessons and scoldings from Jasper about his vampirism, but it had kept his mind away from Alistair, away from Joseph. Now that he thought about it, he had been very lucky to have Jasper. He practically owed the boy his entire life, not that he would ever have the confidence to say that to his face. He would have to pay him back some other way. Maybe, probably.

    “Boys, we’re here,” Jasper’s mother said, pulling up to the school.

 Mechanically, Call pulled open the door and stepped outside, a rush of cold wind whipping his hair into disarray, and jarring him from his contemplative state. The first time he had been here, he had been amazed, and his second arrival had garnered the same reaction. The Order of Ecclesia was a vast cathedral, imposing and beautiful all at the same time. It stood brightly against the blue sky, its white stone seeming to glow as if the entire structure had been blessed by god. The sheen of gold plating reflected off of the many turrets that adorned the main body of the cathedral, disappearing only when they were engulfed by oncoming clouds. It was most likely both the most beautiful and revolting thing Call had ever come across. 

Havoc jumped out behind him, toddling around a bit as if he was drunk. Car rides had never been easy for him.

    “Call,” Jasper’s mother said, placing a fond hand on his head. “Thank you for coming over. You are welcome at our house anytime.”

Call looked up into her dark eyes, and he wondered what his life would have been like if his mother had been the one to survive rather than his dad. It was a bitter, evil thought he swore never to think on again. “Th-thanks.”

She smiled at him once more before waving to Jasper and returning to her place in her car. Call watched her drive away, an odd feeling lingering in his chest. This place could be his grave, or it could be his redemption and now he was watching his only chance of escape leave. He swallowed thickly, if things really did get bad, he would at least be able to run away like he had with his dad. He had, in the least, gotten a lot faster.

    “If you keep staring into the distance like that, someone is gonna see your face and think your dad died or something.” Jasper said, his duffle bag hanging off of his shoulder. “Even though I guess that wouldn’t be the farthest thing from the truth…”

    Call frowned, his glare becoming more icy. “Wow Jasper, you sure are great at saying the right thing at the right time.”

    “I know I am,” the Asian boy replied, displaying a toothy smirk. “And anyway, someone's got to keep you on your toes in Ecclesia. You're just lucky I hired myself."

Rolling his eyes, they both went forward, the large golden gates shutting with a dull thud behind them. It was only at that moment that he realized he really was doing this. He, as the next Dracula, was attending the Order of Ecclesia. He wasn’t exactly sure if he was ready for it, but when had life slowed down for anyone? 

The inside contained no less beauty than the outside had, in fact Call thought it might have been even more breath-taking. Polished marble floors spanned out hundreds of feet ahead of him, illuminated by the warm glow of sunlight. He looked up suddenly, shocked to find no ceiling above his head. Instead there were criss-crossed silver and gold ribbons hanging, beads and other ornaments adorning their tails. Among the loose pieces of satin hung long vines of ivy and other green vegetation, fully occupied by animals and other foreign creatures he couldn’t recognize. Birds whipped back and forth, singing their songs unbothered by his and Jasper’s entrance.

 Looking further down into the hallway, Call realized the entire building had been created like this: open and beautiful with gold sun shining through. It was lovely, and even more than that, it was the perfect way to burn and exhaust any vampire who should try to set foot within the building. He swallowed thickly, hopeful that the bedrooms had ceilings.

    “So how do you guys walk through the hallways when it rains?” Call asked, turning to look at Jasper over his shoulder. It took him a moment to realize he was alone, his oh-so trustworthy mentor already missing. Turning back forward, he found his view suddenly filled with emerald silk, and the smell of burnt wax.

    “Callum Hunt,” a deep voice greeted him familiarly. Master Rufus stood in front of him, his eyes staring down curiously. Call had realized rather early on that Rufus’s curiosity was not something he wanted pinned on himself.

    Call shifted his gaze to look at everything except Rufus's face, excuses surfacing on the forefront of his mind despairingly. “Oh, hi Master Rufus, funny seeing you here. In this hallway.”

He coughed loudly in the silence.

    “Well, Callum, I do think surprise at our encounter is more likely on my part. I will admit, I was not expecting Alistair’s call yesterday-”

Call nearly snorted in surprise, but hastily transformed his unmasked reaction into what appeared to be a sneeze. He proceeded to cough a few more times after that and then donned the most innocent expression he could muster. 

    “Oh yeah, you know my dad… And how last minute he can be.” he tried to give a half-smile, but his mind was too busy being overloaded with a deluge of unanswered questions. How had his dad even figured out he was going to Ecclesia? Did he want Rufus to kill him? To end his existence before he got any stronger? But then wouldn’t Rufus have done something upon his arrival, instead of starting a conversation with him? What exactly was his dad playing at? “He didn’t say anything weird did he?”

    “He asked me to expect your arrival, and to keep a close eye on you, which I intended to do anyway.”

Rufus’ dark eyes flickered with warmth, although his lips remained in a straight line and his brows still furrowed. He didn’t seem very expressive which mostly left Call guessing at his thoughts. It wasn’t the most comforting position to be in considering the fact he was housing one of the biggest secrets to be held by anybody ever . 

“Well Callum, as a student, you will be sharing a dormitory with one to two others. Classes will begin in three days time. If you are ever in need of anything, please find me at my office. You will find the student quarters further down this hallway,” Rufus walked a few steps and looked at Call softly.“ And as a last note, I extend a very warm welcome to you, the Order welcomes you Call, I am sure you will excel here.”

Master Rufus turned away quickly, the old tome Call had originally seen still clasped tightly in his hand. He had never seen him without the book, it was probably magic or something.

    “Right, great, thanks.”

Call shot him a quick thumbs-up, but he didn’t think the teacher saw his gesture of good fortune. People took notice when he messed-up, but his genuine, good natured gestures were always overlooked. It made him wonder if things had been difficult for the past Dracula too, if he had struggled between choosing right and wrong, even in the small things. Not that it really mattered though, it wasn't like he and the past Dracula had anything in common.

Sighing, he made his way down the hallway Rufus had instructed, his shoulders sagging. He didn’t have any luggage to unpack considering he had run out of his ‘past life’ in such an impromptu way. That was how he would refer to it now, his human life with his dad…It was easier for him to think of that time of life as something different and isolated from his present. If he didn’t, he knew nothing would keep him from going back. Truth be told, he really wanted to see his dad again, see him with life in his eyes and colour in his skin. Feel the weight of his hand on his shoulder...The last moment he had shared with Alistair had been when blood was pouring from his pale neck, death settling over the place like a choking fog.

After that had happened, he knew he couldn't return, not until he was a human again. In that way, Alistair wouldn’t think that he and Dracula were the same anymore. Call himself had to mentally make the distinction between himself and Dracula, just for fear of losing himself in the darkness he knew lingered inside him. It was terrifying knowing one second he could just lose it, that he could fall into a pit of despair and never be able to climb out… He would bring everyone around him into that pit too, and that probably scared him the most. He had already almost brought death to his own father, who was to say he wouldn’t bring his friends down too? Jasper had said as long as his ring was on, it was practically impossible for such a thing to happen, but Call still had his qualms about it all. The ring was only a temporary solution, once they got rid of his vampirism he would be all good.

For the time being he had to deal with the downpour of bad luck all his choices seemed to bring him. He could only hope living at the Order wouldn’t have its own terrible setbacks. Worry followed him like a shadow nowadays, it was practically the only thing to stay by his side, other than Havoc of course. And he definitely didn't need any more trouble.

Suddenly very aware of his solitude, Call glanced about searching for his lost friends. First Jasper, and then Havoc… Where had they gone? His gaze scraped across the damask wallpaper, flitting over the different lanterns and flowers that lined the walls. Jasper had literally been right beside him just a few moments ago, Havoc too, but now Call was alone. The sound of faint voices made him take in his surroundings more carefully; he wasn’t completely alone, yet. 

Clinging to the wall as if he was a shadow, Call barely looked over the edge to find a tall figure chatting away on an old rotary phone. It took him a moment to realize it was Alex Strike talking on the phone, his wavy brown hair tied into a small ponytail that rested at the nape of his neck. His expression looked uneasy even though his eyes still carried a bright light to them. 

    “So you’re saying Vampire Killer still hasn’t been found then? Even in the remains of Dracula’s Castle?” he paused, waiting for the person on the other line to respond. “Oh? They already have an idea where- wait, who?”

Alex’s eyes slid over to Call’s and he grinned easily, showing his teeth. They were straight and blunt just like everyone else's.

“Yeah, we can talk later, I’ve got to go, duty calls, bye now.” he said to the phone before setting it back down. Alex proceeded to walk over to him and wrap an overly familiar arm around his neck, as if they were old buddies. Call couldn’t help but flinch away from the touch, perturbed by the remnants of Alex’s conversation. “Hey squirt, you look lost, need some directions? I can help you find your room if that's where you’re headed.”

    “Important phone-call?” Call asked, choosing to forgo introductions completely. Alex, he had determined, was a very dangerous person. The first thing the older boy had noticed about him had been his protective ring, which meant the older boy was perceptive and smart. It had even taken Jasper two looks to recognize his ring, Alex had recalled its familiarity on his first sighting.  “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything.”

    “Oh no, just monotonous updates. My mom’s a member of the council is all, and she just likes to keep me in the loop.”

    Call creased his brows in order to feign concern.“I, uh, thought Dracula’s heir was defeated and that meant that the Order wouldn’t have any more trouble. There's nothing to worry about, right?”

“Oh no, nothing like that. You remember Vampire Killer, the whip, I’m sure. It's just gone missing since the castle was destroyed and the council is losing their hair looking for the thing. It's just an important relic, you don’t have anything to worry about.”

The familiar blue glow of light flashed through Call’s memories, reminding him of where the whip truly was: Alistair had been grasping it moments before his escape. His dad was carrying the thing around, hoping to kill him with it. The Order would  probably only find it once they discovered his corpse somewhere. That wasn’t even mentioning the fact that Master Joseph, who his dad seemed to be in cahoots with, also seemed to have his eye on the whip.

It would only take one word, one phrase, and he could help the Order get ahold of Vampire Killer. He could help protect himself from Alistair and Joseph’s plans. He could help the entire world too, by keeping such a deadly weapon from falling in the wrong hands, but he couldn’t incriminate his own father, he would be endangering Alistair if he aligned him with Joseph of all people. 

Call swallowed with difficulty, the weight of Alex’s gaze on him very heavy. He had been silent for too long. 

    “Oh, well, that's great. Uh, it's great that I don’t have anything to worry about.” Call said, tripping over his words in his haste. Great was his word of the day, he guessed.  “If you could help me find my room that would also be great.” 

    “Sure thing,” Alex responded, pulling a paper from his pocket as he began walking. Still stuck in his half-arm ‘hug’, Call was able to see the chart on the paper and all of the names stuck to each one. While there were two names assigned every square, Aaron’s name was the only one alone. When Alex too seemed to notice this he nodded his head, and finally let Call out of his armlock. “Oh right, Master Rufus told me about the call and everything yesterday, that's why your name isn’t on the list. You'll be rooming with Aaron Stewart... That’ll probably make him the happiest kid on earth.” 

   “What?”

   “Oh, you know, just Aaron being the first Belmont to show up in the past two-hundred or so years. The Order is constantly giving him special treatment for almost everything, but instead of helping him it just kind of isolates him from everyone else. They wouldn’t even let any other kid room with him because he supposedly ‘doesn't need any distractions from his training’.” Alex had put up finger quotes when he had said that, his usual smile deterred. “I honestly feel bad for him, but there's not much I could do about it all. I’m just the hall manager, but since you came late the school doesn't have enough time to prepare another room for you so you get to stay with him. Everything works out in the end I guess.”

Call nodded, too conflicted to form words. On one hand, he couldn’t have picked a better roommate. Aaron was nice and super easy to get along with, he could also cook really well, and seemed like an overall decent guy. On the other hand, he was freakishly strong, a Belmont, and on his list of people that he should probably be avoiding. Jasper had even gone out of his way to tell him to stay away from Aaron… Well, at least he hadn’t been expecting a completely painless experience from Ecclesia. 

Alex stopped abruptly in front of a door at the far end of the hallway, and pulled out a large ring of brass keys as well as another piece of paper. He unlocked the door as he began speaking.

    “I’ll have a copy of your key made for you before school starts, for now here's a copy of the schedule. Mealtimes and lights-out times are the same everyday of the week aside from the weekends when everything is extended an hour later. There are alternating class schedules for A and B days, but you won’t have to worry about that for a few days.” Alex put a hand to his chin in thought. “I think that's everything, but if you have any questions feel free to ask me, my room is at the end of the hallway, and I’m Master Rufus’s aide so I typically stay pretty informed of any major changes in the curriculum.”

    “Great,” Call mumbled without an ounce of enthusiasm. He was pretty sure the only danger Alex posed to him currently was of talking him straight to death. The guy could say a lot of stuff in a really small amount of time.

When Alex looked like he had readied himself for another hour long response, Call hastily waved to him and hurried into the safety of his new room. He wasn’t trying to intentionally be rude, but his nocturnal schedule still hadn’t been completely purged from his system and he was beginning to get a little grumpy. 

Unlike the singular bedroom he had stayed in originally, the student dorms seemed much more simple. There were two twin-sized beds, a vanity, a velvety sofa, and an attached bathroom. The only thing luxurious about the room was the plush carpet underfoot and the grand windows that soaked the room in a glorious shower of warm light. Not a single corner or shadow was left to darken the room, everything was scintillating. It was bright, burning almost, but most of all it made him belligerent beyond any sensible belief. No… He only felt slightly annoyed by the burning light.

He swept towards the windows, drawing their curtains closed with a little more force than was required, and slumped against the wall. Newfound darkness blanketed the room, an inky pall of shadow climbing up the now darkened wallpaper. Call exhaled then, not because he needed to, but simply out of human habit. He felt as if he had sighed a lot back when he had been human, but the action was too mundane for him to truly remember, or at least it had been. It was odd for him, being coddled by the darkness made him feel the most relaxed he had felt since entering Ecclesia with all its holy relics and sunlight. His peace was short-lived.

The door swung open, golden light once again flooding in, but a figure stood in front of it silhouetted as if he was a hero in a movie.

   “Call are you in here?” Aaron asked, his eyes searching the dark room. Call stood up with a grunt and barely walked a step forward before the blonde was at his side, tugging at his sleeve. “It's so awesome that we’re roommates! Come on, I’ll show you all the best places in Ecclesia, actually, you know, I’ll just give you a tour of the entire place. Just so you don’t miss anything. Are you ready?

Call barely nodded before being dragged out of the room down some unfamiliar hallway. Aaron distinctly reminded him of a golden-retriever puppy with how enveloped in his excitement he seemed to be. He hadn't even noticed that Call had been sitting in complete darkness... Though, he did have to admit Aaron's excitement was slightly contagious. When Call had first entered, he hadn’t been exactly sure about his decision of entering the school, but with Aaron by his side things felt slightly more believable… Like maybe he would be able to enjoy the next couple of school years just as they were. His fate as Dracula could just be overlooked, and he could return to the normal lifestyle he had once taken for granted, Alistair included.

Chapter Text

Call groggily pulled himself out of his half asleep stupor, and massaged his face in an effort to rub away the exhaustion that clung to his eyelids. He had stayed awake for days on end in Dracula’s Castle, and yet, getting up at seven in the morning seemed far more tiring than anything. Getting up for school was the worst, most terrible thing ever. It was bad enough when Alistair gently shook him awake, but being awakened by the loud clanging of some giant bell was complete hell. The Order was treating them like animals by beckoning them with a bell.

Call groaned painfully, and sat up, glancing at the bathroom. Light glowed from the crevices of the door. Aaron had somehow managed to wake up, even though the night before he stayed up alongside Call playing board games and chatting. If the blonde was somehow able to wake up chipper and happy, Call was afraid he might have to get a new roommate. It was not humanly possible or fair for someone to be immune to the plague of awful mornings.

As if beckoned by his thoughts, Aaron swung the bathroom door open, illuminating the entire room with bright fluorescent light. Call almost winced, but when he caught sight of the blonde his eyes sharpened while his lips turned upwards in a silent laugh. Aaron’s hair was unruly, sticking every which way and dark smudges lined his eyes. His uniform-shirt was inside out, the tags sticking out in a very obvious way, and he seemed to have forgotten his toothbrush in his mouth as he began to mumble tiredly. 

    “I… I don’t think we should ever stay up that late on a school night again,” Aaron looked at Call’s face, his eyelids drooping a little. His half-asleep daze didn’t last long as he glanced over to the clock and nearly spit out his toothbrush.“Crap, Call, you gotta get up! We’ve only got ten minutes to get dressed! We’ve already missed most of breakfast…Now we’re both gonna be late, and on the first day… Oh man, Master Rufus is gonna kill me if I’m late!”

    Call stretched out lazily, taking his precious time to extend each of his limbs to the fullest extent and then slowly lower himself back into his comforter. He threw back his head and yawned dramatically, while bringing his shoulders up in a careless shrug. “Well, at least we’ll die together.”

    “I’m not gonna let that happen,” Aaron cried, hauling him to his feet, a crumpled uniform in hand. Somehow in the five seconds Call had looked away, the blonde had finished brushing his teeth, grabbing both of their uniforms, and combing his hair, which still happened to look pretty messy. Call thought for a second about mentioning it, but he forgot in his own haste to get ready. It took a surprising amount of concentration to button up his collared shirt.

It felt like only seconds had passed, and somehow Aaron was pulling him into the hallway, his uniform shirt still half unbuttoned, and hair wild. They both ended up dashing down the hallway, pausing only for a moment to grab bagels on a tray someone had been actively rolling away. Call smiled through his bite of cold bread. This was the most normal his life had been in what felt like a really long time. 

Aaron swung around into an open classroom right as the bell tolled again, signally what Call assumed to be the beginning of first period. Both boys stood at the entrance to the classroom, panting as the remainder of the class stared them down alongside the teacher. 

    “Glad to see you two joining us this morning,” the teacher said, tapping her pen against her glasses. She stood tall on a pair of pointy black heels. Call thought for a moment that she might lecture them to oblivion and back, but a mischievous twinkle in her eyes stilled his thoughts. She wasn’t going to say any more or any less.

Aaron recovered first, his hair and uniform crumbled and covered in bagel crumbs. He didn’t seem to notice nor care as he lowered his head in apology. “Sorry Master Milagros, we didn’t mean to be late.”

“No problem, Mr. Belmont,” she said, marking something on her paper. It seemed no matter how much magic the Order of Ecclesia had, the teachers still had to mark attendance. She looked toward him with a brow raised. “And you must be the new student, hm? Callum Hunt?”

Call nodded and she waved her hand for them to both sit down in the remaining front row desks. Call caught Jasper’s gaze in the back of the classroom and glared at him fiercely. He had a lot of explaining to do considering the fact that he had practically abandoned him in enemy territory at the very start of their journey. At least Havoc had returned in the middle of the night.

“Welcome Callum, I hope that you’ve been able to settle in comfortably. I am Master Milagros as most of you know, and I will be teaching alchemy this year. I’ll begin with a brief overview of my expectations.”

After relaxing a bit, Call finally took a moment to really look at the classroom he had sat down in. Weird plants wrapped around the walls and hung from the ceiling like garlands, tinging the entire room an odd green colour. It looked to be a broad leafed sort of ivy, with curling vines and rose-like blossoms growing at random intervals. 

“Now that I’m done with formalities, I can finally begin on my first lecture!”Master Milagros said, her painted lips pulling into a wide smile. Call thought he heard some kids behind him groan. “One of my students from last year, define alchemy.”

Master Milagros eyed the classroom, and nodded her head toward a student behind him. Call wasn’t even shocked to hear who it was. 

“Alchemy is the science of transforming one piece of matter into a completely different piece of matter. The traditional example being of course, lead to gold," Tamara said, pride in her voice.

"Excellent definition Tamara. However, I've found that the best way students learn is through examples, so if everyone would rise please. We’re going outside, we have an alchemy experiment to see.

Call felt Jasper's gaze flicker to the back of his head. 

"Come on now class, we have very short class periods!"

As most of the class began to slowly make their way out of the classroom Tamara came to stand by Aaron's desk, her eyebrow raised and foot tapping impatiently. 

    “Aaron? Are you coming?” The blonde’s head shot up and he glanced at Call worriedly before his expression went back to being calm. “You spend one night with Call and look at you! You look awful! I hope you’ve realized that your shirt is inside out and that your head was lolling forward the entire time Master Milagros was talking.”

    Aaron stood up and followed the crowd, his eyes wide. “My shirt is inside out? Call, why didn't you say anything?”

 Call opened his mouth to speak, but Tamara spoke for him. 

    “That is because his shirt is unbuttoned and inside out too. You guys better fix your clothes before Master Lemuel’s class because he will dress code you guys in an instant and you’ll be stuck in the kitchen for the rest of the week.” 

Call assured Tamara he would fix his clothes and lingered in the back of the classroom until he caught pace with Jasper. With Tamara and Aaron out of earshot he glowered at the taller boy, his arms crossed. 

    “Well? Are you gonna explain why you decided to abandon me and kidnap Havoc on our first day here?”

    “I was actually doing you a favour,” Jasper said, crossing his own arms and lowering his own voice. “I registered Havoc as a magical aide, proved he wasn’t a demonic beast from hell’s hordes, and solidified your human application here. I don’t know what your dad did back in the nurse’s office, but apparently you have a blood sample on record that proves you are a human. It’ll only last us a month, but I mean, it at least gives us time.”

    “That took three days? You could have at least dropped by and said something.”

    Jasper raised his brows with a devilish smirk growing on his lips. “Did you miss me or some-?”

    “Hi there! I couldn't help but overhear what you guys were talking about, and I just wanted to say sorry cause’ I’m the one that held Jasper up for the last couple of days!” a blonde girl said, dropping to walk by Call’s side. She wore a bright pink sweater vest over her golden uniform shirt and enough charm bracelets to make any six-year old jealous. She stuck out her jingling arm for a handshake. “I’m Celia by the way. You must be Havoc’s owner, right? I hope you can forgive me for distracting Jasper so much!”

    “Uh, Call. My name is Call.” he muttered, receiving her hand in an awkward shake. “And you don’t need to apologize or anything, keep Jasper as long as you want. Honestly, the longer the better.”

Celia giggled like his words had been comedy gold and tucked a curl behind her ear. 

    “I have magical aides too, four of them actually. We should hang out sometime, Call. I’m sure Havoc will like the company. We could meet in the Floating Garden, I’m sure all the animals would like that!”

    “S-Sure, I guess,” Call mumbled. Aaron had shown him so many rooms on his grand tour, he couldn’t remember which was the ‘Floating Garden’. If the time ever came, hopefully he would be able to find it.

    “Great!” Celia said, patting his hand and then dashing away with a smile. She disappeared into a group of girls and giggled loudly. 

    Call looked over at Jasper, his original frown back in full force. “I still think you’re a jerk.”

    “Okay before you go jumping to unreasonable conclusions, hear me out. The last transfer student who brought a warg looking dog and just decided to show up one year was Constantine Madden, the last Dracula. And you were just about to waltz into the Order just like him, until I decided to do things the right way and get all of the logistical crap figured out for you. You shouldn’t be insulting me, you should be thanking me,” Jasper said, lifting his chin haughtily.  

    “Are you telling Call about Constantine Madden?” Tamara asked, falling back to walk side by side with Jasper. It wasn’t too long before Aaron followed suit, looking more awake than ever. Call took in a sharp breath. If Tamara, Aaron, or Celia, had happened to start listening just moments before they did, Call would be on his way to the guillotine instead of an alchemy lesson. He and Jasper needed to find someplace aside from the hallway to discuss their plans. “I can help if you want. You won’t learn anything about him from the Order or the Masters. Just mentioning his name is practically taboo. All of the teachers have been sworn to secrecy and the assembly members too. I only caught wind of the truth by eavesdropping on my parents.”

    Call risked a look at Jasper and scratched his head. “Didn’t you say he was the last Dracula or something? What more is there to it?”

    “Before Constantine Madden was revealed as Dracula, he was a student here at The Order of Ecclesia. He attended lessons here alongside his vampire twin brother and supposedly was the best student the Order had. Grades, looks, money, charm; Constantine had it all. But the thing he had most of all was trust. All of the teachers loved him, the entire Order loved him for God’s sake and there wasn’t a single soul that would ever guess his secret.” Jasper glanced around, making sure he had everyone's attention hooked on his story. “And then, they say it was on the night of a lunar eclipse when Constantine just lost it. He went on a mad killing spree, ripping everyone's throats in his unquenchable thirst for blood, he even ended up ‘accidentally’ killing his own brother.”

Call winced, a shiver running down his spine. He had nearly done the same thing to his father. It was crazy how he tried to convince himself of his and Constanitne’s differences, when in reality it seemed they were quite alike. Aaron’s warm hand on his shoulder broke his line of thought. The blonde glanced at him with a tight smile on his face, and then continued looking forward. It took Call a moment to realize Aaron was trying to reassure him with his fleeting expressions and warm gestures. If only all of his worries could be washed away by the brightness of Aaron’s smile things would be so much easier..

“Then, when he regained his senses he blamed Ecclesia for his brother’s death and raised his castle and all of hell’s hoards to destroy the Order. But, luckily, we were able to beat him and win, though there has never been a time in our history when so many deaths were recorded.” Tamara concluded, her dark eyes alight with hatred. Call could hear the severity of her tone, he could see the memories in her eyes. Constantine had taken someone from her. He didn’t know who, or why, but he was familiar with that sort of expression. Everytime he mentioned his mother, Alistair seemed to take it on… In fact, most of the time, he didn’t even need to say anything. Alistair wore that expression like his second skin.

“Alright class, that's enough! Everyone stop walking!” Master Milagros called from far up ahead.

They had exited the school, but they had not left the golden gate that encircled the school. Instead, they made their way around the main building into what looked like a large hidden garden. Clusters of brightly coloured flowers bloomed about, and the air hummed with bees. A few paces away Call even spotted a well, weathered by time and green vegetation. Master Milagros cleared her throat, in an attempt to get everyone's attention. Call was too far in the back so he couldn’t see the lump of lead, though he was able to catch a few words of her chanting. Unlike Aaron’s chanting back in the castle, Master Milagros’s words carried power, but it wasn’t holy. It was sheer strength, sheer force that she pulled from within herself. It reverberated in the air for a moment, pulsing with warmth, with life and then the air flashed. A collective gasp resulted from the surrounding students and Call stood on his tiptoes in an effort to see the newly changed matter. 

Master Milagros held the chunk of skarn up proudly, letting it glint in every which way in the bright sunlight, beautiful and sheeny. 

“Now, obviously not all of us are born with the genetic mutation that allows us to wield magic, however, the gold itself aside, what exactly is a recipe that uses gold that can be used in times of need?” When the class remained silent, she pushed her glasses further up her nose with a polished finger and cleared her throat. “Does anyone remember any potion recipes containing gold? From last year?”

Aaron hesitantly raised his hand, to which Master Milagros noticed enthusiastically. “Yes?”

    “Uh, I think you can use gold in- in an uncurse potion?”

Master Milagros’s face lit up, as if Aaron’s words meant the world to her. “Yes! Now does anyone remember the exact recipe?”

The class remained silent only for a moment before the large bell tolled again, signaling what Call assumed to be the end of the period; the eruption of his fellow students only confirmed it. 

“Next class then! I’ll be expecting your answers next class! You all are dismissed!” 

Call followed the flow of other students, his schedule clutched in one hand. Apparently, his next class was weaponsmithing. He couldn’t help the boyish grin that rose to his face, now this was a class he could get excited about. Making his own sword like he was in a video game? Maybe he hadn’t given the Order enough credit.

Chapter Text

Seven classes. Call had attended seven entire classes, each of which he had enjoyed. That was probably the biggest shocker. The classes at Ecclesia had been fantastical and interesting in their own unique ways, they had made him excited to learn. His fourth period was a class solely about monsters, and even though Call hadn’t liked the instructor that much, the class itself had seemed awesome; he hadn't thought even half of the creatures in his bestiary could be real. Even his cooking class with Master Lemuel seemed tolerable, but that might have been because he shared that class with Aaron and Tamara.

 It hadn’t just been his classes that had impressed him either, they had been served gourmet meals for school lunch. His old school didn’t even serve hot-meals at lunch, they served heated grime on plates. At Ecclesia there was none of that. They had been served an entire pot-roast with buttery mashed-potatoes and home-made rolls. They were even served flan as a mini dessert. The three course meal nearly made him sleep through the entirety of Master Rufus’s lecture, but according to Tamara he hadn’t missed much aside from the basic introductory rules. 

His last two periods didn’t let him rest anywhere near as easily though. They were training classes: one where he trained with weapons made of pure silver and the second where he had to learn to train his own body.The weapon-training class had been mostly fine, although that may have been because Master Tanaka had mainly been lecturing about rules. Now, the physical-training class had put him through a newfound sort of torture. Call hadn’t realized how much his body had changed until he put it to the test and apparently it had changed a lo t. He could run extremely fast- faster than most of his other classmates and he never ran out of breath. In hindsight, something like that should have been obvious, but at the moment he had barely even noticed it until he heard another kid whisper about it. It had been terrible- especially considering the fact Aaron was in that class, and Call had been the only one able to keep pace with him.

Luckily, that had been his last class and after flawlessly failing to keep his abilities hidden he had been allowed to return to his dorm and collapse in his nice feathered bed again. Staying awake during the day and doing actual stuff was exhausting . 

    “Call! Aaron and I were looking for you! Come on, get out of your bed! The day is still new,” Tamara said, whipping into their room. Call didn’t have the energy to look up from where he had stuffed his face in his pillow. “Come on, we’re going to the Morris’s, you can get free food. It’ll be fun.”

    “How’d you open the door?” Call asked, his voice still muffled by the pillow

Tamara sighed and put her hand on her hip. Call could just see her rolling her eyes. 

    “My word! Between you and Aaron both of you guys are always wondering how I get in, but I’m wondering what exactly it is you guys wanna hide from me so bad!”

    “Hide? Haha, what would we have to hide?” Call sat up with an electric jolt.and swallowed tersely. “You know, I am hungry, let's go to wherever you just said. That sounds great. Like a solid plan.”

Tamara smiled and spun on her heel back toward the door.

    “Well, what are you waiting for? Come on!”

The walk to the eatery Tamara had mentioned was near non-existent with how distracted Call found himself. When the Order of Ecclesia was illuminated by sunlight, it was a completely different place from the shadowy nightmare he had stayed in all those months ago. He almost didn’t believe he was staying in the same place.The sound of laughter resonated from multiple rooms and weird creatures buzzed about tending to the unruly ivy that seemed to cling to every wall in the school. It all kind of reminded him of some weird fairy-tale castle and it wasn’t at all a bad thing.

    Tamara pulled open a large glass door and motioned for him to enter. “Welcome, Call, to the only place in the entirety of the Order to have Wifi. Welcome and congratulations- I know the first day can always be a little bit tough, but you’ve gotten through it.”

Tamara didn’t even know half of how difficult it had been, but her comment made him smile anyways.

     “Thanks,” Call replied.

 His first step through the door he was overwhelmed by the smell of sugar, espresso, and a lot of light.The entire cafe was painted a warm orange colour and underneath his feet were mismatching checkered tiles- each with a different angel painted on them. There were large glass containers displaying a myriad of pastries he didn’t even know how to name and, on the opposite wall proudly stood at least six vending machines of different varieties. A large bar stood covered in unattended board games along with all sorts of delicious smelling food. Alex Strike of all people stood behind the bar, wearing a black apron atop his uniform and shaking some drink like a trained barista would. He winked when their eyes met.

    “Man you decided to take your sweet time, didn't you?” Jasper asked, already seated in a barstool.There were two mugs of some suspicious brown looking liquid sitting in front of him and he casually slid a mug to the seat beside him. “Care for a drink, Hunt?”

    “Is that coffee?” Call asked, hopping onto the bar-stool with renewed vigour. He didn’t wait for Jasper to answer and tilted his head back, downing the cup in one go.“Sweet sweet caffeine.”

Jasper’s eyebrows disappeared under his bangs, but he said nothing choosing to sip his own cup of coffee daintily.

    “What happened to Aaron? Why is it so difficult to get all four of us in the same place at the same time?” Tamara asked, crossly.

    “Oh he left like five minutes ago. He said he was gonna do something or another and be right back, but who knows. Maybe he’s ditching, Tamara. You should just hang out with me and Call today.” Jasper said, spinning on his stool to face her. He smirked. 

    “I mean if he was waiting alone with you, I don’t blame him for ditching,” Call laughed, mixing his third packet of sugar into his newly refilled coffee mug. Jasper stuck his tongue out at him. 

    “Helpful as always,” Tamara muttered under her breath. “I will actually be right back, let me find Aaron. You two don’t move a muscle.” 

Jasper waved at her half-heartedly as if he had expected her to turn him down and spun his chair around to face the bar once again. 

    “Well? How’d your first day go? Any major complications with the Captain Fish Head plan?”

    Call glanced over at Alex fleetingly and lowered his voice. “Just a few things. Is there anywhere we can talk without so many eyes? Or ears?”

    Jasper nodded, his voice could barely be heard above the chatter of the cafe. “Meet me in the coliseum after lights out. And don’t let anyone see you. Especially not Aaron.” 

    “Well duh ,” Call whispered back, his eyes rolling.

    “Whoa, you two are awfully close there. Number one rule of Morris Coffee and Co. is no PDA so I’m just going to have to ask you two to make a little distance,” Alex said, grinning and wiggling his eyebrows. Call nearly choked in an effort not to spew coffee on the older boy’s face. 

    “What are you even saying!?” Call asked after he had swallowed with extreme difficulty. 

    “What are you saying?” Tamara asked, having returned with Aaron in tow. “You were definitely singing a different tune with Kimiya a few days ago.”

    “Ooh! Are we talking about Kimiya and Alex, the cutest couple in the school?” Celia asked suddenly excited. She moved away from her group of friends and sat with her chin in her hands and eyes shining. “Count me in!”

Call looked at the growing crowd as if they were all speaking different foreign languages. He was either confused or really tired. The addition of caffeine was nice though, definitely worth staying up for.

    “Kimiya is Tamara’s older sister,” Aaron explained, hopping up onto the barstool next to Call. “Alex and her have been dating since I started here or something.”

    “You're caught up with the school drama,” Call said appraisingly. It was his turn for his eyebrows to disappear under his bangs. 

    “Tamara wouldn’t let me forget about it even if I wiped my entire brain,” Aaron said, spinning himself on his stool. Call laughed at that.

    “Cutest couple award does not go to Kimiya and Alex. God, gag me with a spoon,” Jasper groaned, side-eyeing Alex. “The best couple in this school is obviously my boy Kai and his boyfriend Rafe.” 

Jasper smiled and shot finger guns at a pair of boys sitting across the cafe to which they both smiled and waved back. Tamara scoffed at the interaction.

    “Do you even know what love is, Jasper?” Tamara asked incredulously. 

    “On their one year anniversary, Alex started sending bouquets of different flowers to Kimiya three weeks before the actual date. And the flowers he sent, in the language of flowers spelled the message ‘I’ll love you forever my beautiful lady. We’re the only ones for each other’! And then on the day of the anniversary itself, he rented out an entire restaurant and gave her a matching promise ring with their names engraved into it. If that's not absolutely the sweetest thing then I don’t think you’ll ever get a girlfriend, Jasper.”

    “Aww that is so romantic!” Celia cooed.

Call shared an equally horrified look with Aaron.

    “Oh joy, Alex knows how to flaunt daddy dearest’s paycheck. Lemme tell you what real romance is. Last year, Rafe abandoned sleep and his savings account just so he could buy Kai a hoverboard. Rafe didn’t eat for three whole days so he could afford that thing! Real men know of sacrifice!”

    “Uh, I’m pretty sure Rafe said--”

    “Shut up, Aaron!” Jasper snapped, his foot placed upon his barstool as if he was a great conqueror of old.

    “What do you two think about this?” Tamara asked, turning her scrutinizing gaze on Call and Aaron. 

    “Oh uh, well you know,” Call muttered, glancing at Aaron. He waved his hands around in a circular motion. The blonde nodded enthusiastically.

    “Yeah...”

Tamara glared at them, her foot tapping aggressively. Jasper looked to be no better in his temperament.

    “Well hey,” Alex said, his hands up in a sign of surrender. “All is fair in love and war. But if someone needs to break the tie then I’ll cast my vote for Rafe and Kai. Sacrifice is really attractive in a man.” 

    “Of course you’d vote for the opposing team,” Tamara mumbled, shaking her head as if she was a disappointed parent.  “We’ll need to settle this the ‘ adult’ way.”

    “Oh? We’re gonna go there? Okay Tammy. Just don’t come crying back to me once I’ve beaten you.”

Call watched as Aaron looked between the two, a crease furrowing his brow. 

    “Maybe it's time someone did intervene…” 

    Call popped some popcorn into his mouth and spun himself around on his bar stool lazily. “I dunno, I’m kind of enjoying the entertainment.”

Aaron spared him a dry look and tapped Tamara’s shoulder.

    “It's just a game-”

    “Gear up Aaron,” Tamara ordered, tossing him a red and black paddle. “We’re going to win this.”

Aaron caught the paddle and looked at it, a sudden fondness creasing his eyes. A smile was quick to grow on his lips. 

    “So this is how we’re gonna settle this? Okay, get ready guys! I won’t go easy even if we are friends,” Aaron declared, swinging the paddle around as if it was a sword. 

Jasper wrapped his arm around Call’s neck and hopped off his bar stool, pulling Call straight down with him. He narrowed his eyes and gave Aaron a toothy smile. 

    “You're gonna wish we went easy on you by the time this is finished.”

    “That is literally the most cliche thing to say,” Call laughed, accepting the paddle being shoved into his hands. Jasper prompted him with a raise of his brow. “'Go easy on us'? I'm gonna serve you guys seven ways to Sunday and then we'll see what you have to say about friendship."

Call was too busy grinning to acknowledge Tamara's groan.

    “That might not have been cliche,” Aaron said snickering. “But, that pun was pretty terrible Call.”

Call flipped his paddle, nearly smacked Jasper with it, and then proceeded to lean on the table casually as if he had meant to embarrass himself. “Please don’t flatter me anymore guys, I don’t think I can take anymore.”

    "Get on the other side of the table so we can beat you two fair and square." Tamara said, exasperated.

Call and Jasper complied, each of their paddles at the ready. In all honesty, Call had never played ping pong before, but really how hard could it be? Especially with his newfound speed. They would be practically unstoppable. 

“Let's see that serve you were bragging about,” Tamara said, tossing the tennis ball toward them. Call caught it out of the air naturally. 

    “Wait a second. When we win this, I want to be able to revel in my glory fully . I say the winners not only get to decide who the best couple is, but also get to order the losers around for the rest of the day!”

    “It’s on,” Aaron said, without a second thought. 

Call wouldn’t back down, not after he had staked his own name in this...Alas, like many things in the torrential downpour he called his life, of course the outcome of the game had to go awry.

 It turned out that while hitting the tennis ball was a somewhat easy thing to do, actually keeping it on the table was a feat worthy of some highly skilled artisan Call most certainly wasn’t . It didn’t help that Jasper was constantly in the way either. Every time Call needed to hastily hit a wild ball, Jasper seemed to be going in the exact same direction. Instead of hitting the ball, they would end up slapping each other in the face with their paddles. And as satisfying as that was the first time, it was not getting them any closer to winning. 

Somehow, magically, Tamara and Aaron seemed to be perfectly in sync with one another. They flitted around like fairies and not once did either of their paddles come even remotely close to either of their faces. It was like they had harboured their secret pro-table tennis skills for years- as if they had been waiting for this very moment to show off. 

Jasper slumped back to his barstool, his bangs plastered to his forehead with sweat. He looked about as miserable as Call felt. They had played for thirty points, and they hadn't won a single one. 

    “That's it. I’m done for. Kai and Rafe will never get the honour they deserve. And I will never become a table tennis champion playing doubles with you… Couldn't you have at least mentioned you didn’t know how to play before you went around bragging like that?”

    Call flopped beside Jasper on his respective stool, and cradled his own sweaty face in his hands. “You didn’t tell me Tamara and Aaron were ex-olympic table tennis players. And to be fair, I didn’t see you saving our game either.”

    “Can’t be your hero forever, Hunt.” Jasper retorted, an evil glint in his eye. It made Call want to pour the remainder of his cold coffee on his head. 

    “Man, can’t tell if you guys love or hate each other,” Alex commented, wiping a recently washed glass dry. “First you get all close and secretive and now you’re biting each other’s heads off.”

    “I should bite your head off…” Call murmured unpleasantly. Alex didn’t seem to hear his comment, and even seemed keen on continuing his unwanted commentary, however Tamara’s shrill voice silenced him before anything could be said further. 

    “Jasper, come here! Grab my stuff!” She looked over to Aaron, a smirk on her lips. “This never happens, so I am going to savor it while it's here. I recommend you do the same.”

    Jasper glanced at Call and sighed dejectedly. “The Mistress of Pestilence calls. Probably won’t survive till then, but don’t forget about you know what.”

He winked rapidly in what Call could only assume was morse code with his eyes. Aaron was quick to fill the empty barstool.

    "Wait, before we head back Call, just wanted to let you know that on B-days, you're with Master Rufus. Which basically means you’ll be in me and Tamara's group. That's why I was late coming here because I had to ask Master Rufus about..." 

Call barely heard the remainder of Aaron’s comment as he watched Jasper, who stood a ways behind Aaron, whip his neck around and stare at him with worry in his eyes. His brow creased, something of a warning was resting on his tongue, but Call never heard what he had to say; Tamara was quick to drag the other boy off.

Call hurriedly glanced back to Aaron who was looking at him carefully. He was still waiting for a response. 

    “Oh, yeah. Sounds great. You’re basically just saying I need to follow you again in the morning, right?”

    “Basically, yeah,” Aaron said.

Dinner went by in a flash of candle-light, pizza, and cream cake. The dining-hall was lit up with enormous chandeliers that cradled a million flickering candles and silken sheets lined the tables embroidered with shining golden thread. Every time Call stood they rippled like shining water; he was pretty sure they cost more than his entire house. Damask wallpaper covered these walls too, however they were coloured burnt umber with lively gold designs to offset the darkness. The cafeteria resembled something more of a ballroom rather than the sort of lunchroom Call was used to. He had expected benches and a lunch line- not dining tables and cushioned chairs.

Originally, he had thought he might not be hungry with all the coffee he had drank, but when fresh pizzas were laid out along the centre of the table in every flavour he could imagine, his stomach told him a very different story. The four tier cream cakes they brought out afterwards were no less impressive.

 Tamara kept Jasper on his feet for the entire duration of the feast, ordering him to and fro while Aaron kept him distracted with talk of happy things. With both laughter and delicious food in plenty, Call nearly forgot that he was a monster sitting among humans. He felt at ease, happy even. It was as if Alistair’s ever looming shadow on his mind faded, just a bit, and for just a moment. A brief, but beautiful moment. 

Walking back to his dorm, Aaron by his side, Call felt a smile come to his lips unwittingly. Their shoulders bumped, and neither was saying too much, but everything felt right to a certain degree. Like he could find his place at Ecclesia, sooner or later. Like it didn’t matter he was a vampire. He wondered if Constantine ever felt like he did.

    “Man, Tamara was really pushing Jasper around, huh?” Aaron asked, unlocking their door and stretching his arms. It had been a long day for them both. “Makes me feel like I should at least order you to do one thing at least.”

    “Come on, Jasper had this coming for him,” Call said, grabbing Jasper’s borrowed pajamas and making his way towards their bathroom. “Whereas in my case, I’m a complete angel. You don’t need to order me to do anything.”

    “An angel, huh? And I guess that makes Jasper a saint?”

Call nearly choked on his saliva which received a laugh from Aaron in return. 

    “I think you might be quite mistaken…” Call began, opening the door once again and leaping onto his bed. The action still made him grin like a little boy. If not for his reborn body he’d still be unable to partake in the simple joy of being able to leap and jump.

    “Hmmm, can’t order you to play games with me or something that won’t be fair to Jasper…” Aaron muttered to himself, his eyes scanning his dresser for some task. “What if you… uh, fold my clothes?”

    “You folded your clothes yourself yesterday Aaron,” Call said, watching him struggle to search for something. He kicked his legs leisurely. “And anyway, I don’t think you’d like the way I fold stuff.”

Aaron glanced at the crumbled uniform that had been tossed around haphazardly all over Call’s side of their room. He shrugged and grabbed something off his dresser. Aaron tossed it toward him and Call looked at the foreign object in his hand: a brush.  

    “Okay, just brush my hair and we’ll call it fair, okay?” 

    Call flipped the brush in his hands and hopped to his feet. “You saw how nice Havoc’s fur looked that one time, huh?”

Aaron, who was seated on his own bed looked at him, laughter dancing in his eyes. 

    “Yeah, something like that.”

Havoc’s tail thumped slowly on the floor. It seemed Ecclesia’s three-course meals had made him sleepy too.

The last time Call had had his hair brushed was when Alistair had brushed his hair years before. He had never been very meticulous about Call’s appearance, or even his own, which had resulted in Call arriving at school with a disheveled appearance, but to him that had made the memories of Alistair brushing his hair all the more important. Alistair had never been all that good at brushing hair- he missed parts and oftentime would end up ruining his own hard work by ruffling Call’s hair with a fond pat… Those little moments meant a lot to him, especially now that he knew he would never have that again. 

Aaron’s hair, unlike his and Alistair’s, was the exact opposite colour of pitch. Aaron’s hair was the colour of shining gold, like fabled golden thread gleaming even in the little light that filled their room. Aaron’s hair was soft. Or at least softer than his own which felt to him like tangled wire- maybe if he brushed it more often it would feel better. Soft, shiny hair or not, the blonde did indeed still have tangles in his hair. Tangles Call had to pull through with his fingers before running the brush through them. If it hurt Aaron, he didn’t say, though Call was being as gentle as he could manage.  In fact, it had been a while since Call had begun to brush his hair and Aaron had been suspiciously quiet the entire time.

Peering down at the other boy’s face, Call belatedly realised the reason for the uncharacteristic hush that had claimed their room: Aaron was asleep. His chest rose and fell with paced breaths, his fist barely keeping his head upright. 

    “Wow…” Call whispered, covering Aaron’s bare shoulder with his comforter. It was a fond sort of notion he decided. The sort that friends might do for one another.

Chapter Text

Call tapped his foot impatiently, his eyes glancing right and left for any sign of movement. Lights-out was at nine o’clock sharp. It was an early, fairly unsuspecting time… At least that was what he had anticipated. Lights-out during the actual school year was completely different than his first few nights at Ecclesia. It was a foreboding, somber time that stank of suspicion and distrust. It was downright creepy. 

The beautiful flowery halls he had been greeted with at dawn had transformed into a shadowy chasm of darkness and suspiciously cloaked figures policed them menacingly. Even eerier creatures drifted beside the figures like ghost-hounds. They were weird, ghastly looking animals that were like nothing he had ever encountered before.: Their forms bent and twisted with the every whisper of wind so it seemed they were taking a million different shapes at once. One moment it appeared dog-like and the next it seemed to sprout wings. Call couldn’t identify what he was supposed to be looking at.

The teachers who accompanied the creatures wore angry scowls and walked soundlessly like phantoms. At least he had assumed they were teachers. He hadn’t actually gotten close enough to a sentry to see if it was someone he recognized. Part of him wondered if he would even find a human face if he peered into their fluttering dark capes, but he quickly realized he really didn’t want to figure out the answer to that question. Teachers or not, they weren’t exactly people he wanted to wave and shout to.

He had barely been five steps from his room when he decided the safest place to be was the rooftops. If he clung to the shadow of the hallways, the weird creatures were sure to catch him. Above, basking in the moonlight however, was a completely different story. He didn’t have to deal with the teachers or the creepy animal-like things. He was practically home free. It was only thanks to his heightened senses and enhanced reflexes that he could even make it up that high without being sighted though. Being a vampire was beneficial sometimes; he had no idea how Jasper was going to avoid all the security pacing around below… Which led him to his current predicament. 

It was nearly an hour after nine and Call had made it to the coliseum without being sighted, but Jasper was still nowhere to be seen. Contrary to every other area in the school at night, the coliseum seemed the only area to be left unguarded and it didn’t take much to guess why. The entire arena and bleachers were left uncovered, with the moon illuminating everything in sight. Any sneaky students would be plain stupid to try and hold a secret meeting in the coliesiuem of all places. 

So Jasper picking this specific location was reverse psychology or something. He really was smart at times, not that Call would ever admit it to him. That was, he would never admit it to Jasper if he even had the chance of ever seeing him again. What did Ecclesia do to wayward students who were found snooping around at night? 

Call had been pacing around in the shadow of the enormous stone bleachers anxiously, to avoid standing in the centre of the arena like an idiot, but he was beginning to get a bad feeling in his stomach. If Jasper didn’t show in thirty minutes, he would be better off just returning to his room. He was bound to be caught if he kept standing around.

There could be a million different reasons for Jasper not to show up after all. What if he had gotten into a fight with Kai, his roommate? Or, what if he had simply forgotten or fallen asleep like Aaron had? Or maybe, Jasper hadn’t known about the patrols at all. He sure hadn’t warned Call about them and maybe it hadn’t just been his lack of foresight. What if he hadn’t expected them and gotten caught himself? Ecclesia, as Call was figuring out, was primitive in quite a few ways. What if they physically whipped their students to discipline them? Aaron had always carried whips with him.

          “Call, you idiot come here!” Jasper whisper-shouted from behind him… But that couldn’t make sense- behind him was a wall made of solid stone. Jasper couldn’t have appeared behind him. Great, now along with his sleep-deprivation he was hearing voices. What was next? Would he hallucinate Master Rufus tap dancing in front of him?

An ice cold hand pulled him backwards and for the first time in a long time Call found himself afraid. He was pulled into a place without even the slightest bit of light, but his eyes adjusted quickly. He was in a dark damp space, ivy and lichen were the only decoration to the otherwise dilapidated, dirtied stones that formed looming walls around him. He assumed his captor was behind him by only a few steps. 

          “Listen you don’t know who I am-” Call began, but the person snorted something between a laugh and disbelief .

          “Yes, I do. I’m the only one who knows who you are, but we don’t have time for this right now Call,” Jasper was sitting a ways behind him, his chest heaving and face smudged with dirt. “I’ve been followed. We don’t have a lot of time to talk so you’ve gotta listen to me now .”

          Call was quick to kneel by his side, his brow creased. “Wait- are you okay? And who followed you? Where are we?”

          “Do you not get what little to no time means? We have to talk business! Listen, getting Master Rufus as your B-day teacher is the worst thing you could have asked for considering the fact he taught the last Dracula too-”

          “You’re good, right?” Call asked, his eyes full of mirth. Jasper rolled his eyes and sat up straighter. “I can cast healing magic you know, I’m probably better than all the medics here at Ecclesia.”

          “I’m just a little scratched up. It’s nothing. Now listen. Rufus is going to feed you some ichor or something for your magical aptitude test and force you to sleep and dream and no matter what you see in your dream tell him you saw s omething weird, but remember nothing , okay? You remember nothing from your dream.” 

          “Magical aptitude test? Nothing? I got it.”

          Jasper licked his lips, his eyes averted. “And when did you come to be a master healer, huh? Playing the healer doesn’t really suit you, Hunt.”

Call shrugged, a smile growing unbidden to his face. 

          “I’ve gotta keep my first loyal, dark subject alive don’t I? I’m planning to at least be a good Dracula in that sense.”

          “A good Dracula sounds like an oxymoron, but whatever,” Jasper said, rising to his feet. He tried to dust the very obvious dirt smudges from his clothes, but his efforts did nothing but smear it around more. He looked very out of his element. 

          “So, how’re we gonna escape from… Well, from wherever we are?” 

          “How’re you gonna escape? The same way you came here. Go back to your room and I’ll just head back the way I came and get caught. I think the council woman saw my face anyway.”

          Call scratched his head. “Why is the security so tight in the first place? There were so many people guarding the halls, it looked more like a prison than a school.”

Jasper groaned miserably and shoved his shoulder against the wall. Call assumed his motions were purposeful.

          “You can thank Mr. Belmont and his stupid escapade for all of this annoying security. It was bad before Aaron ran away, and now it's ten times worse,” Jasper said, as the stone wall began to give way to a tendril of moonlight. Jasper was pushing open a hidden door, Call realized and quickly joined him in his efforts. “Anyway, none of the sentries patrol the hidden paths on the interior of Ecclesia so we would have been safe here if I wasn’t followed.”

          “Hidden paths? I climbed the roofs to get here.”   

          “Oh yeah, there are a thousand hidden rooms and compartments in Ecclesia if you know which lantern has a lever or which wall to push. The building is ancient, I bet not even Master North is aware of all of the hiding places around… But, climbing the roofs, hm? I guess you aren’t all too bad for a rookie,” Jasper said, slightly out of breath. They had managed to push the coliseum wall open just enough for them both to fit through. They were back to where they had begun.

          “Come on, I’ll take you back my superior way,” Call said motioning with his hand. His gaze was set towards the moon. “If we go to the roofs and someone is following you, we can shake them off your trail and be done. What do you think, oh wise one?”

          “So you can be helpful. I guess it’ll have to work considering we don’t have much else to work with. I’ll follow your lead this once.”

Call grinned.

           "Let's mosey."

By the time Call had safely and efficiently escorted Jasper back to his room the moon was far higher in the sky than it should have been. It hadn’t even been that Jasper’s room was very far- it was simply that one of the posted sentires did not want to move out of the way. The fool stood there looking left and right for nearly an eternity which probably meant Jasper had been seen, but that only made the task at hand more important. Jasper could not be seen again.

Early on, Call had thought about throwing something a ways off to draw away the sentry, until he realized the only things on his person at the moment were items that would definitely lead straight back to him. Jasper was in the same position. So they opted to wait. And wait. .. And wait.

The excessive amount of time at first proved to be something useful.  Since they were no longer on the run, Call could address all the concerns he thought he wouldn’t have been able to get around to before. Just openly talking while so many patrols were nearby would be pure stupidity so they decided on a message system: Call would write letters on Jasper’s hand to try and communicate his thoughts. Turned out, keeping track of multiple letters in an attempt to form a conversation was just as terrible as speaking would have been. They would be better off trying to read each other’s lips. Unfortunately, that nearly ended in a misunderstanding that had begged Call to throw Jasper off the roof to be eaten alive by the sentires. Call distinctly remembered a time when Jasper had thrown him to a particularly aggressive group of NightMares, but only Dracula would ever be so petty as to act on an old grievance. He- Call, was an amiable, kind fellow who tossed no pitiful humans off of roofs. 

Soon enough, the moon no longer looked upon them with its soft guiding light. It had lowered significantly, giving way to its treacherous golden counterpart. Call almost couldn’t believe it when the sentry finally turned, yawned in a very human-like manner, and walked away from Jasper’s door, as if they hadn’t been standing there for the past ten hours. Finally, finally they had left. Call nearly slipped on the bound ribbon that decorated the open ceiling in his haste to nudge Jasper awake.

          “Your superior way, right?” Jasper had asked him groggily, to which he said nothing in response. Jasper would have been caught almost immediately if not for him, but who was counting all his good deeds? No one except himself.

Fortunately, he had to wait no longer to return to his own room, but the few hours he got to sleep were brief at best. Brief and short-lived like his patience was going to be in the morning. Contrary to popular belief, even though his body was technically dead, he still felt the diminishing torture of exhaustion just like any other living creature… Especially during daylight hours and those were infringing on his beauty sleep at that very moment. So much for sleeping at all.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Whoever had designed Ecclesia was a cruel, unfeeling human whose only thoughts must have consisted of how best to torture any and everyone who didn't want skin cancer, or happened to be a vampire. In his case it was the latter, but really, the architect must have been horrible. And Master Rufus, his only instructor on B-days, seemed set on walking through every single hallway before settling on any one classroom. 

After such an invigorating sleep, Call could tell today was going to be a great day, he just knew it. 

          “Are you alright?” Tamara asked, walking beside him on his right. She looked prim and perfect as she always did, and it made him wonder for a moment if he would resemble perfection if he slept eight hours everyday. “You look a little red. Almost like you’re suffocating.”

Aaron, who walked on his left,  nodded a worried expression on his face. Call didn’t want to say anything, but he couldn’t help but realize he was being flanked by two of his greatest enemies, their mentor ahead of him, while also being debilitated by the sun. It might have been his lack of sleep messing with his head, but logic said that this was the ideal situation to take him out. And for so many conditions to be fulfilled at one time seemed something more than a coincidence.

          “Yeahhhh,” Call croaked in response. Apparently, the sound  was miserable enough to even garner a side glance from Master Rufus. Call gave each of his friends a confident thumbs up and felt his eye twitch dangerously. “I’m doing great.”

 Aaron stared at him incredulously.

          “Okay then…What happened to your sleeve?” Tamara asked suddenly, taking a hold of his outstretched hand. That was the last time he was giving her a thumbs up. “Your sleeve is all frayed- Actually now that I look, what happened to your uniform? It's a mess!”

His uniform had gone through hell climbing through the thick vegetation that lined the ceilings. Call hadn’t even realized he was in the middle of some thorny flowering plant until Jasper complained about it on their way back to their rooms. His nerves really were dulling which could actually be potentially useful. It was definitely one of the more workable sides to his vampirism. 

          “Oh you know,” Call began glancing at Aaron’s face. If the blonde had looked disbelieving before, his facial expression practically screamed it now. “Havoc was hungry, he wanted a little munchy munchy. ”

          “‘He wanted a little munchy munchy?’” Aaron repeated.

          “Okay, so you clearly have a lot of talking to do at lunch,” Tamara concluded, her arms crossed. Call was beginning to dread her doing that. 

          “I’m quite sure all of you will have many things to say at lunch, however, for the time being both of you will work in silence.” Master Rufus said coldly. They had arrived at the library. 

Call zoned out for a moment, taking in the sheer breadth of the entire library. Everything was so extensive- in every which way. Bookshelves, hundreds of them he assumed, stood proudly, towering far above Call’s measly height. Curving staircases twirled around the shelves, disappearing in the sheer mass of literature that had been crammed into the tiny library. Truly, the room was quite large, it was only that the bookcases themselves were so grand, so impressive that they made everything around them seem puny and trivial. 

Stained glass windows illuminated the tomes, telling a vibrant story of their own. Alcoves lined the walls displaying soft-coloured blossoms and small glowing sconces. It was like he had been transported to a different realm where bookshelves grew as tall as trees and stained glass dyed everything in pretty shades of red and gold.

          “I expect you to be able to fully express why running away from Ecclesia could prove dangerous, the effects of your actions on yourself and others, and any other regrets you may have concerning the situation. There are plenty, I am sure you are aware of, however spiteful you are to admit them. And, I expect your essays to be no less than six pages long. It will be due the next time I see you. Is that clear?”

          “Six pages ?” Call asked, his mouth falling agape. 

          “You are exempt from this assignment, Callum. I only expect this to be completed by Aaron and Tamara.”

          “But-” Aaron began.

          “There will be no ‘buts’, thank you Aaron. This assignment will be complete, and both of you will consider your actions and the effects of them,” Rufus looked down at Aaron and Tamara, his gaze steely. “If you need any more prompting, I will be in the heart of the Underground Waterway administering Callum’s magical aptitude test.”

Aaron and Tamara shared a pointed look, and murmured their understanding.

“You two are dismissed to finish your work then. Callum, please follow me,” Master Rufus instructed, making his way back to the hallway. 

          Call looked between Master Rufus and his friends and took the chance to draw close to the now despairing pair. He gave them the warmest and most genuine smile he could muster. “Hey, guys, at least he didn’t say no plagiarizing.”

A small smile broke through Aaron’s lips. 

          “Haha Call, very funny,” Tamara said, a twinkle in her eyes. “The magical aptitude tests were like a rite of passage for us so as soon as we finish our assignment, we’ll be down there to check up on you.”

          “A rite of passage? What's gonna happen down there? Am I finally gonna learn all of your occult secrets?” Call asked, his interest piqued. 

          “It's more like- well, what Tamara means by rite of passage is that it kind of decides your f-”

          “Shhh! Aaron, stop! Don’t spoil it for him. This is a big moment,” Tamara said, a finger pressed to his lips. Aaron looked at him sympathetically and shrugged.

          “Like they say, there are no secrets a bribe can’t reveal,” Call said, smiling through his sudden wave of nervousness. 

Jasper had said the only thing he needed to say was that he remembered nothing to Master Rufus, but here was Tamara suddenly making a big deal of the entire scenario. A ‘rite of passage’ she had called it, and Call was beginning to feel he didn’t really want to pass it all that badly.

          “That's not how the quote goes,” Aaron laughed. 

          “Callum,” Master Rufus called from the entrance of the library. Call had forgotten he had left him waiting. “I believe there has been plenty of time for your heartfelt farewells. Let us go.”

Call gave a half-hearted wave and dashed after Master Rufus. He had done pretty well on the first day not insulting any teachers, or anyone for that matter, and it wasn’t any time to let up now. He was counting on his behaviour to keep him in boarding school to come up with a coherent and well-thought out plan. Being on his best behaviour was vital to his plan... So was not being caught on the second day, and to make sure that didn’t happen he needed a very fast crash-course on what ‘passage’ he was about to walk into.

          “So what is the magical aptitude test exactly? I can’t do magic- actually I thought nobody could do magic aside from Tamara cause’ she said she was from some special family or something? How could Master Milagros do it then? Is Master Milagros Tamara’s mom?”

He was also exhausted so there would inevitably be some of his crazy ramblings mixed in, but he couldn’t really control that at the moment. Rufus cleared his throat resolutely, seemingly readying himself to answer the barrage of questions Call had spit out in the last thirty seconds they had been with each other. 

          “The magical aptitude test, while obviously a test to measure whether the user has magic or not, also is a measure of power and fate. Those who do carry magic within their veins will oftentime catch glimpses of their future within this rite, of their purpose,” Master Rufus explained, slowing down to watch the expression on his face. “As for the Rajavi family, they are indeed the last known family to be related to the Belnades family of old, however, there are many people who share blood with the Aulin family. The Aulin family was a more modern family who shared distant blood ties with the Belnades family and are much more widespread. Despite not being related at all, Master Milagros, myself, and many other teachers and students here at Ecclesia possess blood from the Aulin family.”

          “And where’d they get their power from?”

          Rufus raised his bushy brows, his eyes crinkling a bit at the edges. “Well, magic was first bestowed upon the world through the blessing of the five Archangels, though of these blessings, only three remain within this world. If you care to stay awake during  my class Callum, I’m quite sure you may learn something of interest to you.”

As they began to walk down a long swirling staircase Call instinctively lowered his head, shame hanging like weights to his neck. He hadn’t realized Rufus noticed him sleeping in his class. And he remembered. Dang , Call hoped he hadn’t just created another teacher with a vendetta towards him. 

          “It wasn’t that I didn’t want to listen, you know? It was more like the-the uh, temperature. It kind of just lulled me to sleep. I was actually a stellar student back at my old school. Didn’t skip- I mean sleep through one class.”

          “Hm, I take it you and Aaron have been staying awake quite late then?” Call opened his mouth slowly in a delayed ‘no’, and then waved his hands in front of himself to dispute the claim. “Well, it does not matter. Whatever sleep you have not had will be regained now.”

Rufus pushed open two heavy stone doors at the base of the staircase. As Call passed them, he noticed the swirling carving on the doors: two angels, most likely of the group Rufus had mentioned earlier. As soon as they passed the doors, the sound of rushing water filled his ears, and glowing blue brightened his vision. 

The room they had arrived in was less a room and more a giant infinite pool. It reminded him a bit of Rahab’s room, but it was neither cold nor chaotic. It was peaceful, serene almost. Glowing waves lapped at the stone ledge he stood on, washing his steps as if they had never been there. A single boat made of what looked to be pure gold floated near the edge as well. It was shaped like a canoe, but the ends came up into delicately carved wings, beautiful and ethereal. Wine coloured cushions decorated the interior of the boat, tassels of gold and jewels decorating their corners. Part of Call wondered if the entire structure was sanctified in any way, and the other part of him wondered how a solid chunk of gold was floating on water.

          “If you’d like, you may remove your shoes and clothes, though it is not necessary to proceed. Once you are ready please climb within the boat and we will continue.”

Call held Master Rufus’s gaze awkwardly for what felt like a good two minutes, and then proceeded to  pull off his converse and socks and toss them to what appeared to be a dry spot on the stone. He watched the water lap at the sides of the boat, at the ledge, and walked forward unflinchingly. As soon as his bare feet touched the dampened stones, he knew he was walking into something of a death-trap to him.

He was walking into a pool of holy water- water that burned through his skin like acid. His nerves were very active when it came to holy artifacts it seemed. Even walking through the wet stones had proved painful for him, but he had to do this. The magical aptitude test was really important- that in itself was a huge understatement. Call stepped into the boat and prayed that this wouldn’t somehow turn into a swimming exercise. Then he realized how ironic it was for him of all people to be praying, if he died here he was dead… Yup, that definitely sounded right. 

        “Make yourself comfortable Callum, this process can take quite a bit of time,” Master Rufus instructed, reaching into one of his billowing green sleeves. Call watched him pull out a tiny vial, no bigger than his thumb, filled to the brim with iridescent liquid. He walked to the edge of Call’s boat and handed it to him, while also untethering the boat. “Drink this once you reach the centre of the pool. Then, all you must do is relax and let yourself sleep.”

Call stared at the vial, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. 

          “What's in there? I’m lactose and tolerant so I can’t drink-”

          “This is a mixture of Unicorn blood, liquid gold, and sanctified ambrosia. It does not contain lactose.” 

          “Yummy,” he muttered, no longer looking at the man, but at the vial in the middle of his palm. It glittered ominously, promising of mystery and omen. By the time he looked back toward Master Rufus, the boat had already floated a great distance away despite the fact the water’s surface was still. There was no current to push or pull him, it just seemed to happen, and soon enough his boat had made its way toward the centre of the pool. While the room wasn’t that large in size, Rufus still seemed small and insignificant standing so far.

Call turned to the opposite side of the boat and stared at the water’s surface. It was glassy and clear like a mirror, reflecting back the human version of himself; reflecting back the only boy Alistair had claimed as his son. 

          “Go ahead and drink the liquid if you are ready,” Master Rufus prompted from the shore, his voice echoing.

Call held his own gaze, staring at the water’s surface as if it would reveal his true form, and tipped back his head drinking the potion in one gulp. It burned like molten fire down his throat, choking him silent. The burning of his throat was nothing compared to the horror igniting at the sight of his reflection: gory red eyes stared back at him, terrifying and inhumane, the thing Alistair knew him as, the thing Alistair always knew him to be. 

“Relax now,” Master Rufus repeated, ignorant of Call’s condition. “I will return in some time to check on you.”

Call said nothing in response, he only felt glad Rufus had not seen the monster he had been reduced to in that single moment. He collapsed in the boat, his stomach roiling and flesh stinging with the unfamiliar sensation of heat. He wasn’t sure if it was sleep that overtook him first, or unconsciousness, but his vision was black almost instantly. He was no longer in the material world. 

The first thing he saw was a woman, her hair was dark and eyes bright- they were the colour of honey- and she smiled joyfully, her hair decorated with blooming flowers of all sorts. They were outside, in a place filled with lush greens and golds. Her arms hung around someone's neck, and it took Call a moment to realize she was holding onto a young version of Alistair. He was looking at Sarah, his mother, a woman he had never seen before, never even envisioned. She pointed toward something distant, and laughed openly, while Alistair gazed only at her, as if she was the only person in the entire world. The smile on his lips didn’t falter once, not for anything. Call had never seen him look that way before toward anyone, or anything. This man he was watching was as dead as the woman he held so close.

He called out to them only once, and realized no sound came from his throat, nor from theirs. He was watching in complete silence. He only tried once for fear of disturbing the perfect couple he beheld in front of himself. Two people he had never met, never seen before, never could have imagined. 

They were gone in a moment's notice, his new vision gave way to flickering flames and an intense heat close enough to his skin to hurt. There was shouting- no, not just shouting it was shrieking. Shrieking so loud he covered his ears and curled into himself like a fearful child. The screams soon transformed into sobs, wracking sobs, that reverberated in the very heart of his soul. Call looked above the fire, above the searing smoke that stung his eyes and saw a figure, blonde and ashen: Constantine Madden, the previous Dracula. 

His unintelligible sobs suddenly became coherent to him. He was crying out for his brother, for the other half of his soul, shouting with the little strength he had left to try and call him back. He grabbed at the air, maniacal, and disoriented, his chest heaving with emotion. But that didn’t make much sense to Call, in every direction all he could see was fire and ash, his brother wasn’t anywhere in sight. And then Call realized it. The cinder, the flame, that was all that was left of his brother; Jericho Madden had been burned alive. 

His vision changed once again, the air changing into something less polluted and more wet. He could no longer hear anything, and the sky above seemed bleak and gray. The air smelled of rain and he could see the droplets fall around him, but could not perceive their touch. For a moment he thought he had been lucky enough to receive a reprieve from the tormenting visions he had been exposed to, but there was no such thing in store for him. 

This time, Call watched himself, the true version of himself, wan and sickly, back away, his arms raised. Aaron pointed a blade straight towards his neck, his steps sure and unfaltering. Call watched himself say something, desperation lining his face; desperation to be understood, to be heard. His pleas fell on deaf ears. Aaron drew close then, the full length of his silver blade on Call’s neck. He replied, but Call knew how this was to end. Hatred skewed Aaron’s face, blackened the soft contours of his countenance, and distorted the kindness Call had so foolishly believed in.

Aaron’s expression wasn’t foreign to him. It wasn’t new. Call had seen it once before when the blonde had returned to Ecclesia after Drew’s death. “That bastard deserves to die,” he had said, and Call knew deep down, no matter how he wished to dispute it, he wasn’t wrong. 

Call awoke then, the scene before his eyes left unfinished. Air filled his dead lungs, and he gasped for it painfully, wheezing in an effort to gulp it down, desolately clinging to the peaceful facade he had created around himself. He had returned to reality, to his present: the room filled with holy water. The boat had returned itself to the stone ledge and he climbed out of it crazily, like a live man desperate to escape his coffin. He nearly slipped and fell to his knees but warm hands caught his, holding him up.

          “How’d it go Call?” Aaron asked, eyes bright. “What’d you see?”

Call stared at the other boy’s face, as if he was a stranger. It would have been better that way, if they had never met. Knowing his eventual fate was crippling him more than his leg ever had. 

          “I-I don’t remember anything,” Call cried, pulling away from his human touch, as if it had burned him. Emotions were drowning him in a deluge, emotions he didn’t understand, nor could he place, but that encumbered him like fetters, heavy and so devitalizing. Becoming Dracula had stripped him of his humanity, true, but it hadn’t stripped him of sentiment. 

          “Call-?” Aaron began, but he didn’t wait for him to finish. Call let his sudden burst of hysteria fuel his dash and ran as fast as he could from the room, from Aaron, from the visions that rooted themselves into his mind like scars. He wished so eagerly for them to disappear, but he could never actually forget what had been seen. Never.

Chapter Text

Call didn’t stop running, not when he passed by Tamara, or Rufus, or even Jasper. He fled as if there was flame burning at his steps; he didn’t stop, not when he had left the school building, not even when he had exited the golden gate. A guard shouted at him in passing, but Call didn’t hear his words, he simply kept running. 

He crossed into the forest that crept on Ecclesia’s borders and continued his wild spree, uncaring of the thorns and branches that tore at his skin. It wasn’t like he felt anything anymore; the only pain he registered was from holy artifacts and weapons. No matter how he craved human sensations they were gone-lost to his cursed state. His steps were brought to a forced halt as he tripped on a stone and tumbled down a slope of leaves and undergrowth. He didn’t stop rolling until he thumped hard against the trunk of a great oak, and still he felt absolutely nothing. 

Call stared up at the splotches of purple sky he could make out between all the boughs and vegetation that obscured the sky from view. He didn’t know how long he dreamed- it had felt so fast, but here he was looking at the sky painted in hues of lavender and red. The sun had nearly set. Everything in the forest was unchanged from its usual pace. Crickets chirped, the leaves rustled, birds fluttered about feeding their young, chirping their tunes. For a moment, it made Call feel negligible as if him being Dracula didn't matter. Here in the forest it couldn’t matter less to anyone. 

Call wiped at his cheeks feeling silly and miniscule in the scope of such large things. He had never seen his mom before, and despite knowing that Aaron would eventually scorn him, knowing it was bound to happen in his future was crushing. Maybe part of him had clung to the experiences of his past two days. It would have been so easy to keep up the lie if he knew had a chance of preserving the normal future he so desperately longed for. 

   “Oh, dear boy. What could bring you to such a state? You look pathetic lying down there in the dirt. Rise to your full stature and let us speak properly.”

Call jumped to his feet almost instantly, dread settling in the pit of his stomach. Of all the people he had expected to see, this was the last one he had ever wanted to see for the rest of his whole life. 

   “How did you find me?!” Call reached for his gun only to realize there was no weapon hanging at his hip. Instead he brought his empty fingers back with flame. “If you come any closer I swear I’ll incinerate you!”

   “It was fate that brought us together. I knew sooner or later you would dash from the Order’s protection to seek yourself out. It was only a matter of time.”

Joseph grabbed his chin and forced him to stare into his ruthless red eyes. 

“But please, Callum, you are smarter than this. Do you not remember the outcome of our last scuffle? If I intended you to be dead it would have been done long ago.” Joseph said, smiling. Call stared at him hatefully, rage dissolving any bit of sense he had regained. “I am not here to frighten you, boy. I am simply here to relay a message.”

Call wanted to spit in the old man’s face, but he pursed his lips and remained silent. He didn’t dispel his magic either. He wouldn’t stand down in the face of such a monster. 

“I am quite aware that you have been looking for a way to rid yourself of your vampirism. And, since it happens to align with my plans, I will let you know the answers you seek can be found in the Forbidden Library within The Order’s walls.”

Joseph produced a small copper key in the base of his palm.

   “I won’t go. I’m not falling into your stupid trap again,” Call hissed.

   “Constantine was the same way in his youth. Always spitting to my face, and yet always doing exactly as I instructed him. I hope you realize I am only trying to help you Callum. Unlike your father, I don’t need you dead, I simply need my own master to be revived.”

   “Project Dominus?” Call asked, being drawn in despite himself. Joseph grinned, a maniacal light in his eyes. 

   “Indeed . You are a smart boy, aren’t you?” Joseph dropped the small key in his palm, his fanged smirk remaining. “Remember, our plans align. I only wish to help you in order to help myself.”

Call watched his figure disappear into a flurry of bats and stumbled forward, dazed. The key felt heavy in his hand and he quickly deposited it in his pocket. He didn’t want to think about it. He knew Joseph was a liar, a monster, but the idea of being so close to a cure had already begun to fester in his mind. He couldn’t help it..

Joseph had confirmed that Alistair did want him dead, but if he was human he wouldn’t. He would just be regular old Call, his normal, human son. He stumbled forward mindlessly, attempting to retrace his steps to Ecclesia. He had plans in the making, hopes he nearly had let go of. 

The moon was in the sky by the time he made it back to Golden Gate, only a single figure stood before it, guarding it. 

   “Call?” Alex gasped, standing up straighter. He had been dozing off before Call’s arrival. “What’re you- what’re you doing outside the gate at this time? It’s nearly lights-out, you could have gotten hurt! There are monster populations in that forest!” 

Call pushed past him, heading straight toward the Golden Gate. 

   “I just needed to clear my head,” he lied. He would need something more convincing to tell Aaron, Tamara, and Rufus, but for Alex this worked just fine. “Think I can get in without being caught?”

   “I mean sure, but,” Alex shrugged and put his hand on Call’s shoulder. His hand was gloved, even despite that it was ice cold. “Listen, I just wanted to say, the first week can be tough, but hang on in there. The magical aptitude test can be pretty rough on some people. You’re not the only one who reacted that way.”

   “How’d you know about my test today?” Call asked, looking back at the older boy. 

   “It was all your friends talked about today at lunch,  I couldn’t help but overhear,” Alex said, raising his hands up in surrender. “Didn’t mean to upset you there little buddy.”

   “We’re not buddies, and anyway, think you can let me through the gate now?” Call asked, tapping his foot. True, he was being ill-tempered with Alex, but he had secret libraries to find and lies to come up with. He didn’t need the half-hearted advice of a bystander, of someone who didn’t actually care about his situation. 

   “Didn’t mean to,” Alex muttered, looking away. Without further ado, he unlocked the gate and pulled it open for Call to enter into. Once inside, Call strode confidently forward, his mind set on one thing: the library.

Alex was right, the time was fifty minutes past eight, just ten minutes before ‘lights-out’, and the perfect time for him to secure his place in the library. If he was going to find the hidden library he was going to have to be crafty and perceptive. According to Jasper, Ecclesia was an assemblage of trapdoors, and levers so he best start with the alcoves. Flower vases were great hidden levers.

With his enhanced speed, reaching the library took no more than a few minutes and with it being so close to night time, the entire room was covered by a blanket of darkness. Luckily, he was the so-called  ‘King of Darkness’, and his ability to see was just as good- if not better- in a room devoid of light. And, as an added plus, no human would be able to look in the darkness and see him without a lantern. His exhaustion felt worlds away now, the only thing on his mind was the idea of normalcy. 

Call went at it immediately, pulling at the vases, their fake flowers, the lanterns, the tables. He didn’t spare anything in the alcoves in his search. Yet nook after nook, vase after vase, nothing happened. The closest the wall got to moving was when he was near ready to bust it open with his fist. Not that he would, he was only tempted. It wasn’t like he was out of options yet either: he had all of the bookshelves left to check for hidden mechanisms. But he also didn’t know how much of the night was over, or how much time he had left before having to return to his room. 

There had already been at least ten patrols to pass by the library, but seeing only darkness, none felt the need to enter… Which allowed Call all the freedom he needed to continue his search as he pleased. The library was large, but he worked relentlessly, climbing to the top of each cascading stairway and pulling out each book, just enough to try and trigger a hidden door, or opening wall. There was even one point where he nearly fell in his haste, but he had caught himself on the edge of one of  the old bookshelves. He would find the hidden library even if it took him all night. 

Call only realized his search came to an abrupt end as the room began to fill with the early  pale red of a barely risen sun. He stopped his foraging for a moment to blink once, then twice and then hopped off the stairway he had been standing on. He would continue his search at lunch, and then once again after classes. Call could feel he was getting closer, he could feel how close he was to his freedom. 

In a rush of haste he flitted to the rooftops, easily avoiding the patrols, and made his way hidden back to his room. Once the sentry passed by unperturbed, Call stuck his key in the lock of his door and slipped inside like a shadow, closing the door silently behind him. He almost sighed with relief before he noticed that Aaron was sitting on his bed, his head in his palms and foliage in his hair very, very awake. At Call’s entrance he looked up, surprise and then anger settling on his face. 

   “Uh, hi,” Call whispered, smiling nervously. He had completely forgotten that Aaron might have been waiting for his return. He had forgotten about everything in the face of his redemption. “Sleep well?”

   “Hey,” Aaron responded, his brows furrowed and jaw set. He stood up and walked toward him, close enough to where Call could see the ever-darkening skin around his eyes. Aaron was pissed as hell. For a moment Call thought he might swing a fist at him, or yell, but instead his face softened and he looked at him, worn out and tired. He looked as if all the fight just zipped right out of him, leaving only worry and fatigue to remain in his expression. 

   “Call, where have you been? I- we’ve been up all night looking for you! Are you okay ? What happened?” 

Call stared at the blonde for a moment, remembering his vision from the day before. That didn’t have to be his fate. He could change it. He would change it, and he and Aaron would remain friends. Real ones.

   “I just needed some time to clear my head,” Call explained, shrugging. Havoc whined from behind Aaron disbelievingly. 

   “Time to clear your head?” Aaron repeated, the traces of anger wrinkling his brow again. “You needed to clear your head for the entire night? Outside where there are monsters? You could have gotten hurt, you know? I mean look- your uniform is in shreds-” 

   “I’m not cut anywhere,” Call assured him, moving past him with little to no effort. 

Aaron turned and looked at him, running his own fingers through his hair. Call did well, not to mention the stick that popped out of a tousled lock.

   “Well that's good. That's great,” Aaron finished, plopping onto his bed with finality. At first, Call thought he was being sarcastic, but he quickly realized that hadn’t been sarcasm, that had been his conclusion. “I should go let Master Rufus know you’re back.”

   “I can go-”

   Aaron shook his head, one of his hands raised to stop him. “No, that's okay. You just- just stay here for a while.”

Call watched the blonde leave quietly, letting guilt settle in his stomach. How many times had he left Aaron to worry about his well being? He had disappeared often in the castle, and now here he was, disappearing and reappearing randomly whenever it suited him. Really, Call hadn’t meant to make anyone worry, it was just that usually the only person he had ever been held accountable to was Alistair. And his dad, while prickly about certain things, was fairly laid back in most aspects of child-raising. Call never had to think about worrying Alistair before, much less anyone else.

 Havoc crawled up onto Call’s bed and laid his head in his lap, his ears pulled back mournfully. Ever since he had come to Ecclesia, Call had felt as if his time with Havoc had grown shorter and shorter. It wasn’t even the school’s fault that their time together had been reduced, it just felt like too much had happened in such a short course of time that Call himself had neglected Havoc. Such a predicament could easily be fixed, however.

   “Maybe you can help me find the hidden library…” Call whispered, cupping the wolf’s face. Havoc wagged his tail unenthusiastically and licked his paws. He seemed more interested in grooming himself than finding any hidden rooms. 

Letting out a large yawn and finally collapsing on his bed eased the tension he didn’t know he was holding in his body. Wrapping the thick warm comforter around himself was like applying a soothing balm onto irritated skin; it washed away all the woes of his entire day… And then the bell tolled, and his brief moment was over. Any sense of comfort was stripped away. It was time for a new day of school.

Aaron didn’t show up to first period that day. Part of Call wondered if he could have missed classes too, but he didn’t really want to show up at Master Rufus’s office and ask about it either. He was sure the man would have other, more important questions to ask him, and Call wasn’t feeling too keen on answering them at the moment. 

Tamara did show up to class, though she looked more unkempt than usual with frizzy braids and a wrinkled shirt. Call could only assume she had stayed up looking for him too.  He was touched honestly even though all throughout Master Milagros’s lecture, she kept sending him these weird looks as if her head was about to explode, or like she was trying to interrogate him from across the room. Eventually, Call grew tired of trying to decipher her expressions and went back to trying to retain some of the lecture, and catch some zs. Master Milagros had not been happy about his multitasking, going so far as to hold him after class. Call just loved when teachers did that. 

   “Callum,” she began, her tone bordering on patronizing, and upset. “I understand this is a very new experience for you, and I also understand that you may be going through something right now, you don’t look very good, but if you have a legitimate reason to not attend classes, you have to tell your teachers, okay?”

Call nearly scrunched up his nose in confusion at her comment, but he schooled his expression with some effort. He had switched his torn up uniform for a new one, and he had brushed his hair. What was she even talking about when she said his appearance looked bad? He hadn’t taken off his ring, had he?

“No more sleeping in my class, okay Callum? Do you understand?”

   “Uhuh,” Call muttered, scratching at his chest to ensure the ring was indeed still there. It was terrifying to imagine walking around Ecclesia without it. The ring was practically the only fail-safe he had. He nearly melted with relief when he clutched it through his shirt.

   “Good. Now go on and get to your second period. I wouldn’t want you to be late.”

Call left without waving, anxiety still clinging onto him. He knew he never took off the ring, he knew it wouldn’t make sense for it to just randomly disappear, but he couldn’t shake the immense amount of safety it gave him. It was the only thing keeping him from truly becoming Dracula.

   “God, okay, you really failed horribly at the whole 'say you don't remember' thing,” Jasper said, conversationally as he slinked up to his side. Call looked over his shoulder to see if Tamara had lingered in the hallway too, but he didn’t see anyone. They didn’t have second period together, so it wouldn’t really have made sense if she did wait. “Also you look like you spent all of last night crying. Did you ?”

   “You didn’t see what I saw in the Magical Aptitude test,” Call argued, frustrated. “I watched Jericho Madden burn alive, and then-”

   “You cried over Dracula’s dead brother?” Jasper asked, slightly mockingly. 

   “No! I didn’t cry at all! My eyes are only red because I’ve been awake for two days straight, and I spent the entire night sticking my face in dusty old books!”

   “Suure, macho-man, whatever you say,” Jasper said disbelievingly. Call wasn’t sure if it was the lack of sleep, or Jasper’s normal demeanor that was really grating on his nerves. “And, why would you spend the night in the library of all places? I never once took you for a bookworm.”

   “I was looking for the hidden library!” Call exclaimed, desperate to get around all of Jasper’s annoying quips and get straight to the point. 

   “You mean like the teacher’s library?” Jasper asked, his voice a lot smaller than it had been. Call couldn’t tell if it was because they were nearing the forges, or if the topic was just that sensitive. “Or do you mean the library of Bloody tomes?”

   “Uh, the second one. That sounds right.”

   “Where did you hear about it from? How do you know about it?” Jasper demanded, a mixture of worry and interest on his face. “Where were you really last night? Don’t lie-”

   “Unless both of you are planning to skip my class, I suggest you step inside my classroom now,” Master Tanaka said, a smile on his lips. “There are about sixteen seconds before passing period ends.”

Call and Jasper rushed in, taking a seat on the workbench they had claimed on the first day of school. Both boys shared a passing glance at each other. Despite the nature of their previous conversation, both Call and Jasper were excited for Master Tanaka’s class.

Master Tanaka taught weaponsmithing, and as such had his classroom set in an actual forge. The walls were all carved of smooth stone and workbenches lined the centre of the room, while anvils and other miscellaneous forging supplies lined the sides. There was only one great forge that stood in the front of the room, with a massive angel carved into the silver veined rock that outlined the structure. Fires burned within it, searing and hot. It unconsciously reminded him of Jericho's death and sickness overcame him. That wasn't something he wanted to remember.

   “Okay everyone, I’m sure all of you are aware of the need for weapons in a dangerous situation, but can anyone tell me the necessity of carrying a holy relic on your person?” Master Tanaka asked, raising his eyebrows. 

   “Holy relics can protect you from a deadly poison,” a girl named Gwenda said. She often sat at their lunch table. 

   “They can protect your mind from being penetrated by vampires,” Rafe offered, gaining a few giggles from around the room. Call perked up at this answer.

Master Tanaka rolled his eyes and wrote both answers on the chalkboard. 

   “Good, good. So what I’m hearing you guys tell me, is that holy relics can protect you from a multitude of different setbacks. Is that right?”

A general agreeable consensus was murmured around the room.

"So between a holy relic and your weapon, which is most important? If you were pressed on all sides, which would you rather have: a sword, or a magic necklace?"

The class fell silent, and with a quick glance Call realized no hands were raised. 

"Come on, this is not a right or wrong question. Tell me what you guys think," Master Tanaka said, spinning his chalk in between his fingers.

   "Well, I'd never go anywhere without my spear," Jasper answered, looking around the classroom for agreement.

   "I've got to agree with D'Winter," Rafe consented, shrugging. "I'm much safer with my nunchucks than with some shiny bracelets."

   "Okay, so we've got our weapon-loving duo, is there anyone else that wants to share? Anyone want to dethrone the duo? Or does anyone want to make a trio?"

Silence once again followed his question and Master Tanaka cleared his throat.

"So, like Rafe said, if I was cornered by an enemy  I'd much rather have my trusty weapon at my side rather than some sparkling jewellery, right? That just sounds like the obvious, logical answer."

Master Tanaka's smile grew again, excitement lighting his dark eyes. He seemed to smile a lot and be something of a naturally jovial sort of character. 

   "But what if I told you that little, shiny bracelet could save your life better than your spear or nunchucks could? None of you believe me, I'm sure, but let me show you some of the most famous holy relics ever created and then we'll see what you all think."

Master Tanaka turned and pinned a large photo of something on the blackboard. It was a photo of some swirly, metal looking clip. It didn’t look all that special looking so dull and 2D on the sheet of paper.

   "This was Verity Torres's enchanted brooch that she wore into every single battle she went into. She crafted it in her senior year after summoning and defeating the Black warrior and carved this from its obsidian shell. Rockmaple has taught you all about the Four Sacred Beasts hasn't he?"

   "He hasn't taught us anything yet," Gwenda replied smartly.

   "Oh, well, the Four Sacred Beasts are essentially holy Beasts students can summon and fight against in order to gain special materials. They're immortal, and invincible, and, while I’m on this rabbit trail I might as well mention that the creation of elementals was actually based heavily on these entities, " Tanaka explained, sketching on his board. He drew a turtle, a phoenix, a tiger, and a dragon. They looked more cute than threatening in Call’s opinion, but that might have just been Master Tanaka’s style. "Anyway, back to my class, the materials Verity gained were from the Black Warrior, or the turtle, which basically gave her a huge defensive boost when she wore this brooch. With the special shell alongside the enchanted gems she created in Milagros's class, she was nigh invincible."

   "But Verity wasn't invincible," Kai whispered, his eyes downcast. "She didn't make it through the last skirmish."

   "Well, unfortunately, every relic has its crux, and while Verity was very strong she wasn't infallible sadly… Which actually brings me to my next relic. Are any of you familiar with Constantine Madden's famous ring?"

A few gasps rose from around the classroom, and Call himself nearly did a double take. The next photograph Master Tanaka pinned to the board was of the very ring that hung around his neck. It suddenly felt very heavy hanging there, almost like a noose. 

   “I see a few of you recognize this very un-holy relic. Anyone think they can tell me what this baby did?”

Call could practically feel the heavy weight of Jasper’s gaze on him, and he wanted to slap him for being so obvious. It was not the time to side eye him. 

“Jasper? You look like you’ve got something to say,” Master Tanaka prompted. “You know something about the last Dracula’s infamous ring?”

Call shuddered and felt his stomach flip itself over at least a dozen times. Now he was really going to be sick. 

   “Oh, uh, haha,” Jasper said, thrumming his fingers on his open notebook. “You know I know everything, huh Master Tanaka?” 

Master Tanaka shrugged, his brows raised. Call could feel the airways he didn’t even use close.

“The ring could like, protect him from turning to ash in direct sunlight, right?”

   “It could, that was one of the reasons no one ever caught him until-”

   A young boy sitting in the front row cleared his throat loudly… Call couldn’t remember his name. “Uhm, didn’t admin say we’re not supposed to talk about Constantine Madden? Or anything related to the last war?”

   “Did admin say that?” Master Tanaka asked, looking around the classroom at other students. “I suppose I shouldn’t put it past them to mark out an entire part of our history… Okay, well then! I apologize everyone for the last two examples.”

Master Tanaka coughed awkwardly for a second, and then hastily pulled down the photos pinned to the board. He clapped his hands together with forced enthusiasm.

“That aside though, I think everyone got the point: magical accessories are important, and you all are going to have to forge one for yourself! That will be your first major grade in my class. So get drawing. Come up with what you want to have on your person. It could be jewellry, or a bauble, or really anything so get sketching! I don't need dimensions just yet, so let your creative juices flow.”

   “Dayuuuum ,” Rafe whispered, making his way over. He sat down on Jasper’s side of the table. “Peter literally just ended Master Tanaka’s entire career.”

   “I actually like Master Tanaka. He used to be a middle school teacher, and he taught algebra and he was super nice,” Gwenda nodded, claiming the bench opposite from Call. “I hope he doesn’t actually get in trouble for this. I mean we deserve to know about it anyway.”

   “Knowing Cardinal Graves, he’s probably gonna get destroyed ,” Jasper said, planting his hands firmly on the table. Both Gwenda and Rafe leaned in, and Call couldn’t help but lean forward too, curious to hear what was going to be said. “I know how things work around here guys, with my mom being on the council. People that disobey are exiled from the Order for life.”

Rafe whistled lowly and Gwenda shook her head. 

   Peter walked by and scowled, lifting his nose upward. “It's not because of your mom that you know that. It's because of your dad. We all know that's exactly what happened to him.”

Jasper’s face turned black for a moment, and Call swore he saw hatred dance in his dark eyes, wild and unbridled. It reminded him of the look Tamara often had in her eyes, the look of magic .

   “Hey, Gwenda, Rafe, Peter! Go back to your seats! I’m not fired yet!” Master Tanaka said from his desk, his leg bouncing. 

 It disappeared in an instant, a heartbeat. If he hadn’t been Dracula, Call was sure he wouldn’t have seen it at all.

With gossip in plenty, second period ended faster than Call anticipated. Personally, he had nothing against Master Tanaka. He was nice and his class was probably one of the most exciting, but his extensive knowledge about Constantine was dangerous. And as much as he hated to think it, he would be infinitely safer if Master Tanaka was out of the picture. 

Call barely made it to his third period without being overcome by a growing sense of dread. Master Rufus stood beside Lemuel’s classroom tall and somber in his emerald coloured robes. The closer he got to the door the more he felt a growing sense of worry settling in the pit of his stomach. Maybe he could go to the bathroom and outwait Master Rufus, and then deal with him later, or maybe he could just fake sickness-

   “Callum hunt,” Master Rufus greeted, his voice echoing in the suddenly very large hallway. “Please visit my office before lunch. We have much to discuss.”

   Call couldn’t help the heavy weight that settled on his shoulders and slumped forward dejectedly. “Uh, okay.”

Lemuel guarded the door to his classroom like an angry bulldog and glared as Call walked past him. 

   “You should say ‘yes sir’ when answering your superiors.”

Call glanced at his face in passing and nodded amiably to himself. He was still trying to be a good student and keep his place at Ecclesia. 

   “Okay.”

Master Lemuel squawked something angrily under his breath and shut the door to his classroom with frustration. He wasn’t the only one fuming, Tamara seemed pretty mad herself when Call came to sit next to her. He couldn’t imagine why that might be. 

   “Alright, good morning students,” Master Lemuel said in the driest voice ever. It sounded like he was being sarcastic, but then again, Call had never heard him speak when he wasn’t yelling so that might have just been how his voice sounded. “Since today is our official first day I want you all to cook something. No recipes or directions from me. Show me what you know. Get started; this is a quiz grade.”

Even Ecclesia had its teachers who didn’t want to be there.

Lemuel went back behind his desk and swirled on his swivel chair aimlessly for a moment. It didn’t seem he had much else to do, even though that didn’t seem to deter him from not teaching a lesson.

Unlike the grand forge that Master Tanaka’s classroom had been, Lemuel’s classroom looked like he had walked out of Ecclesia and straight into a modern cooking studio. Silver appliances gleamed in every corner, and herbs and fresh veggies hung in baskets all around the room. Each countertop had sinks, stoves, and conventional ovens attached on different sides of the desk. And the centre of the counter spun around like the tables in fancy restaurants did. It wasn’t really something he was interested in, but cooking class seemed like it could be loads of fun if he was with the right people.

Call looked over his shoulder at Tamara and felt himself smile a little. 

   “Why are you smiling? Do you think you’re being funny by ignoring me?” Tamara snapped. She pulled plastic gloves on her hand and had already tied a cream coloured apron around her waist. Call might have misread Aaron’s expression that morning, but Tamara really did look like she was ready to kill him. 

   “I’m not ignoring you,” Call said complaisantly, trying to speak in a low voice. That was what Alistair did whenever he had attempted to calm him down. “Why’re you so mad anyway?”

   “I’m not mad, you were just ignoring me,” Tamara said, handing him an apron. Her face softened just a bit just as Aaron’s had, though she still seemed irritated. “Call, what happened last night? Where did you go? Are you okay? Everyone was so worried.”

Call shrugged and averted his gaze, pretending to tie his apron. She had almost asked the same questions as Aaron, and Call being the genius he was, planned to give her the exact same answer. 

   “Oh, you know. I just needed time to clear my head,” He rolled up his uniform sleeves and went over to the sink to wash his hands. “I’m good.”

   “Oh come on Call, I stayed up half the night looking for you. Aaron and Master Rufus stayed up the entire night. You kind of owe us a better explanation than that.”

Tamara had taken a silver bowl off a nearby shelf and added sugar, flour, and milk into it along with a whisk. She handed it to him and bent down to look in one of the lower cabinets. Call took it and began stirring half-heartedly. 

   “Thanks and all, but, I mean I didn't ask you to do that. You guys could have slept whenever you wanted.”

   “We’re your friends Call. That's what friends do, they look out for each other.”

Tamara pulled some dark bottle from out of the cabinet and dumped it into the bowl, staring at him with her prying dark eyes. 

“Well ?” 

   “Well what? Why’re you so intent on figuring out? Are you still suspicious of me from all that crap you threw at me last time at Jasper’s house?” Call frowned, mixing the bowl forcefully. He didn’t know why he was relating those two very different things, but somehow he felt like Tamara had been asking for it for a while. Maybe that was just his sleep-deprived mind talking, but his annoyance had been growing on him the past few days. “If you’re so suspicious of me then maybe you shouldn’t pretend to be my friend.”

   “I’m not pretending to be your friend!” Tamara said, clearly taken aback. She had taken two eggs from their fridge and was cracking them in the bowl. Call crushed the bits of shell that fell in alongside the egg itself with angry satisfaction. That was right, he was the one feeling mad now. “And I’m sorry I want to protect Aaron, okay? I can’t help but be naturally suspicious of anyone that wants to get close to him, the idiot would let Dracula himself close just because he’s so stupidly nice!”

Call nearly spit in the miscellaneous batter he was stirring at that comment. He stared at her with displaced anger, as if she had punched him in the face with her gloved hands. In fact, it felt worse than a punch, it felt like she was chewing him up from the inside and spitting him out.

   “I just saw my mom for the first time in my life and wanted some time alone,” Call ground out, anger gripping his jaw. “Is that okay with you? You don’t think Aaron will get hurt if I take some time to myself, right ?”

   “Oh, Call- that's- I didn’t mean it like that,” Tamara began, flashing him looks of her unfeeling pity. Call hated when people did that. “I meant-”

   “You meant you’ve just been so busy keeping Aaron’s ass covered this entire time you didn’t realize you isolated him from the entire student body? Yeah, Alex told me all about that, but please. Don’t worry about lil ol’ me. I don’t plan to get in your way after all, that's what friends do right?” Call smiled at her humorlessly. “We look out for each other.”

Call noticed the looks they were getting from other students. Celia specifically seemed quite interested in their conversation. The negative attention did little to discourage him however. He hadn’t had an outlet to let his negativity flow out and now Tamara was being his best friend and ‘helping him out’ with that too.

She didn’t deserve it, she was innocent. Call knew that. He knew she was just being an actual good friend, a decent human being- three things he wasn’t. Tamara had said absolutely nothing wrong, and yet here he was tearing her down for anger that was only aimed at himself. He was the worst of the worst, and yet he couldn’t stop driving people away from himself. He didn’t stop talking even when he knew he had gone too far. 

   “I didn’t isolate Aaron from anyone!” Tamara almost shouted, slamming the pan down on the stove. Even Lemuel looked up from whatever time wasting activity he had decided to do. Tamara cleared her throat and looked straight at Call, hot anger flashing in her eyes. He had been wrong both times previously. This was what real anger looked like on Tamara’s face, and he was about to figure out just how it felt like too. “I’m just trying to take care of him, okay?! Not that you would understand what taking care of someone else is like considering the fact you can’t even take of yourself!”

Tamara turned on the stove and Call dumped half of the batter into the pan, still staring at Tamara hatefully. 

   “Aaron doesn’t need you to take care of him, he’s fully capable of taking care of himself.” 

   “And how would you know that? You’ve only known him for like half a year, in which three of those months you weren’t even communicating with him!" 

   Call clenched his fists so hard, he thought his dead nerves might have tingled “Okay, so I guess obsession takes precedence over an actual bond now!”

   “Ooooh, he really said that,” Rafe whispered, nudging Celia. She looked at him with wide eyes.

   “Shut up! I am not obsessed!” Tamara yelled, slamming a plate beside the stove. Call swore the edge of it chipped. ”I-”

   “Okay class, serve up your meals right now and bring them to the front. I lost track of time so we’ve gotta make this part go faster than usual.” Master Lemuel ordered, rising from his swivel chair. The bell tolled right as he said that, sending the students in a frenzy to leave. They scattered around like ants in a disturbed ant pile.

Call grabbed the pan and flipped it over on the plate, waiting for the contents to fall out like they did on the cooking channel Alistair used to turn on for him. After a moment when nothing happened, Tamara grabbed the whisk and scraped the half charred, half raw mass from the skillet violently. It plunged onto the plate with a sickening thud, resembling vomit more than any real food. An eggshell poked out of the ash acting as something of a garnish. 

   “Bon appétit,” Tamara said, dropping the plate on Lemuel’s desk and walking out of the classroom. 

   “I kind of hope you get salmonella, sir ,” Call muttered, following after her. 

Both were gone before Lemuel even had a chance to respond. 

Disgruntled as he was, Call hoped fourth period went by without any trouble. He felt prickly and gross, but mostly, he felt angry. Angry about the stupid, idiotic argument, about the idiot library, about his vampirism, about Master Rufus. He felt angry about everything and most of it was his fault. Realizing that just made everything kind of worse. 

Call walked into Master Rockmaple’s classroom and sat down in the back corner away from everyone else. He could use some space. 

   “Alright, welcome everyone to my class! Lecture starts as soon as the door shuts! So! Let me ask you a question to begin our lesson: How exactly do you kill a vampire? Is it possible only with Vampire Killer, the glorious whip? Or can we use other things to help us purge the world?”

Call groaned mentally. Great, now he was going to get lessons on how to kill himself. That was exactly what he needed after everything. It was the perfect lather to alleviate his mental anguish. 

He swore it took at least seven years of his life for fourth period to finally pass. And it was only after he had trudged out of the classroom and walked a few steps away that he had realized he was about to walk into another prison: Master Rufus’s office. They were in for an exciting meeting together.

Call arrived at his door in little to no time, the smell of hot fresh bread tickling at his nose. It didn’t make sense to him that he couldn’t breathe, but was somehow able to smell every scent in the air. It seemed counter-intuitive. He knocked on the door apathetically and tapped his foot as he waited. Before, when his leg was bad he almost never tapped his foot, and here he was tapping away like normal kids. If Joseph wasn’t the lying bastard Call knew him to be, he would be able to go back to normal. Both he and his leg would revert back. In the wide scope of things, it seemed a very small price to pay. 

It was funny how much he had already changed in the short span of time between being human and monster. Past Call would have definitely given anything to have two perfect, working legs. Anything . Past Call didn’t know what future Call knew though, and that made all the difference.

   “Hello? Master Rufus?” Call called, knocking again. There was still no answer.

Slightly annoyed and hungry, Call pushed the door open and stepped inside, gazing about the room and letting the dull sense of nostalgia blind him for a moment. The last time he had been in here was with Alistair and Aaron, happy, stupid, and ignorant. He missed it. 

Call shut the door behind him, and stepped forward and froze as he neared Rufus’s desk; an unsuspecting letter sat open addressed to the teacher himself, but it was the handwriting that caught Call’s eyes. It was Alistair's handwriting all flowy and crooked and weird. It looked like the crooked legs of a dying spider, or of tangled vines so intertwined, their intent was barely comprehensible. It was such a miniscule detail, but seeing it made Call think of all the little things he missed about his father: his weird, super specific dad jokes, the funny way he used to smile just to make Call laugh, his rare, perfect hugs.

Call tore open the letter without thinking, desperation and anger fueling his fingers. The words on the papers were few, but the letters were so familiar. Call reread them at least five times before finally tearing his weeping gaze away. Two simple lines, one of numbers, the second of words. 

                           44°29'41.3"N 61°26'29.0"W

                We can end Dracula’s threat once and for all.

   “Ah, Callum, you’ve already arrived. I hope I did not keep you waiting.” Master Rufus said by way of greeting. Call crumbled the letter in his hand and shoved it along with his fists into his blazer pockets.  

   "Sorry about running out-” Call interjected, his voice sounded weird and foreign to his own ears, like a warbled imitation of how his voice was supposed to sound. “It won’t happen again, I know there are monsters in the forest and stuff.”

Master Rufus clasped his hands behind his back and made his way behind his desk.

   “I am glad to hear you understand your error, Callum, however I did not call you into my office to have you confess this.” Master Rufus sat elegantly and motioned for him to follow suit. He didn’t seem to realize the letter was missing. “You are clearly ailing at this very moment, so I will do my best not to press you, but I am required to inquire after the results of your test yesterday.”

Everyone was saying that today. It was like someone had stuck a sticky note to his forehead that said, ‘I haven’t slept for two days!!’. 

   “I uh, you know. I saw a lot of flashing images, and I- I think I saw my mom. Don’t remember anything aside from her though.”

Call looked up from his own tangled fingers to check if Master Rufus believed him. The teacher’s face was devoid of any perceivable emotion, though he had nodded. 

   “Well, while it is rare for non-magical students to remember anything after drinking ichor, there are always a few occasional outliers. Well, all's well that ends well,” Master Rufus scribbled something on a nearby form and folded his hands together again. “Alistair-”

Call barely flinched at the name, his leg bouncing and hands fidgeting. He tried to temper his restless nervousness, but Master Rufus raised an inquisitive brow. He hadn’t missed anything.

   “Alistair has sent your things. He came by this morning and fled before I could inquire about anything.” Call glanced about the room, his eyes searching every nook and cranny for a familiar duffel. What if Alistair had booby-trapped his bag? What if there was a bomb in it? “Your things have been delivered to your room, and I would like to request you to retire from the rest of your classes today.”

   “Mmm-hmm, sure,” Call muttered, rising to his feet. “Did he- did my dad send anything else? To anyone?”

   “Unfortunately, I was not even the person to receive your things. I was simply notified of Alistair’s arrival. Being your B-day teacher, I was simply instructed to notify you of this. If he did leave anything else, I am sure you can inquire to the office about it. If you’d like I can even ask in your stead if you would prefer-”

   “Nope, it's okay!”

Call flashed a nervous smile, and tripped over his own two feet in an attempt to get out of the office. As soon as he had left he started to run, nearly skidding down the barren hallways in his effort to reach his room. He was lucky everyone was in the banquet-hall, or else they would all think him to be even more weird. Still it was all too coincidental: Joseph shows up that night, and Alistair in the morning? It was too similar, too closely connected. They had to have been together, heading somewhere- doing something. He was the only one that knew about Vampire Killer’s location, whatever it was they were planning, he was the only one who could stop it.

Call only slowed by when he passed the cafeteria, a draft of warm aromas enticing him to step in. He hadn’t eaten anything for the past two days either. The realization stopped him completely. With everything going on he hadn’t realized it, hadn't even felt hungry until he smelled whatever feast they had prepared within. Call nearly set a foot inside the banquet-hall until he caught sight of Tamara and Aaron laughing together easily. Everyone was laughing, happy and unbothered. Call couldn’t go there, he didn’t belong there. Tamara was right, Dracula had no place sidling up to the last remaining Belmont.

Aaron looked up unexpectedly, his eyes on the doorway, but Call was quick to remove himself from view. Once he had reached the library of bloody tomes and obtained, or at least learned of a cure, then he could sit and relax. Then he could be a real friend to Aaron and Tamara. 

Sadly, he was going to have to push his personal plans back even further with this new influx of information from Alistair. Considering the fact he had to now intercept Joseph and his dad meant he would have to keep his magic a little while longer. He didn’t have a chance to get Vampire Killer back into the right hands without using his dark magic. Then once everything was back in place, Call would cure himself, attend Ecclesia, and Alistair would love him again. Everything would just have to naturally fall back into place. That's how the real world worked. It had to work that way, his sanity depended on it.

Call tore into his room and came to a rough stop in front of his bed. Havoc barked once at his arrival, and then laid back down once he realized it wasn’t an intruder. A familiar old duffel bag had been laid at the foot of his bed, crumpled and sad. He could almost tell that someone had been poking through it before it had reached his room. Ecclesia sure was paranoid when it came to checking things- not that he blamed them for it. Considering what they were up against, they had a right to be.

Call opened the bag without hesitation, ripping through his things, searching for any bombs, or hidden traps. According to Master Rockmaple’s lecture that morning, nothing could even remotely injure Dracula which meant he had nothing to worry about, but part of him just wanted to see if his dad had tried with such tactics. Silver flecked bombs, weapons, and even certain poisons could put a normal vampire on the run, but not Dracula. No, he was immune to it all- all except Vampire Killer. Which Alistair had definitely not sent with love. 

He nearly scoffed when he pulled a letter from his bag, smelling of bergamot oil and persimmon; it was exactly how Alistair always smelled. Their house smelled of gasoline, and sweat, on rare days it might smell of some weird food Alistair had tried to cook, but the man himself had always smelled fresh and clean. He smelled like a summer day. Like old memories and long evenings spent only in each other's company. Call had thought those days to be some of his best, though now he knew that Alistair had loathed it enough to have hatred fester in his heart. Hatred enough to make him want to kill his own son.

He didn’t read the man’s letter for fear of latching onto any false promises he knew would be sworn within. He crumbled it in his pocket and stared ahead, suddenly numb and unfeeling. He caught his own gaze in the vanity mirror. He looked sad and small, his bottom lip trembling and threatening to spill out all his grievances. It was only in that single moment that Call no longer saw himself in the mirror, but Drew. He saw Drew in the mirror with his ever-trembling lip and woeful pale coloured eyes. He had suffered so much at the hands of his father, too much and he had died for it. Died for his father’s lunacy.

He couldn’t believe he had been about to believe Joseph about the library. There was probably something down there he had wanted Call to retrieve, some nightmare he had wanted him to experience. Call had almost been stupid enough to buy into Joseph’s nonsense. But not now, no. He would still go to the library of bloody tomes, there had to be something down there for him: either on Vampire Killer, or on Project Dominus and he was going to find it while also dodging Joseph’s intended bullet. He could do that much easily, he was Dracula.

Call walked out of his room, purpose driving his steps and nearly smashed his nose into someone's shoulder. So much for his short-lived ambition.

   “Watch where you’re going!” he snapped.

   “You’re the one that walked into me!” Jasper said, wiping at his sleeve as if it had been sullied. “And when did you get the guts to fight with Tamara? Why would you even do that?!”

Call wondered if he could even reason with Jasper on the topic of Tamara, and then realized that the entire ‘fight’ the boy was talking about wasn’t exactly something he wanted to defend. She hadn’t really even said anything wrong, he knew that after replaying the experience over and over in his head again after it had happened. So, instead of opening that can of worms he would hit the important point. Call would talk about the stuff that really mattered.

   “Where is it?” 

   “Where is what?” Jasper asked, raising a brow. “You really look and sound like you’re going crazy.”

   “Where is the library of bloody tomes?” 

Jasper nearly did a double take and put both his hands over Call’s mouth, and pushed him into the wall. He looked suspiciously behind them, like he was expecting someone to have overheard them and then back at Call angrily. 

   “You can’t just go around saying incriminating stuff like that!” Jasper whisper-shouted, shaking his head. In Call’s opinion both of them whispering in a dark corner was overall more suspicious than having a normal conversation in the hallway, but with Jasper he was never right. “One day someone is going to overhear us, like that prick Peter, and then we’ll both be dead.”

   “Where is it?” Call reiterated behind Jasper’s hand. He grabbed the Asian boy’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. “Where is the library? I need to know now .”

   “It’s in the cemetery behind the school. Go to the garden Milagros took us to on the first day and climb down the well. Go forward until you see a chain ladder, climb it, and you’ll be at Verity Torres’s memorial. From there all you have to say is, ‘ vade retro Satana ’ and a barrow will open that’ll lead you straight to the library.” 

   “They put a cursed library in a hero’s memorial?” Call asked, taken for a moment by the sheer disregard the notion had.

   “I think they thought her deceased soul would protect the library from ‘evil-doers’, but when I went there I took what I needed and left and nothing ever happened to me.”

   “What did you need from there?” 

The light on Jasper’s face dissolved leaving him tight-lipped and serious.  “Back when my dad was leeching off of me he sent me to get a heretical book from there. He’s the one that told me about its location and passwords and all that stuff.”

   “Perfect, just what I need, you are amazing,” Call nodded, already walking away. He had almost made his way around the hallway when he paused and looked back at Jasper oddly. “It is still lunch time, right…? What were you doing walking around here? Are you looking for something too?”

Jasper chuckled and brushed a piece of his hair back, glancing toward the sun. Call didn’t notice the longing look that crossed his face.

   “Oh, you know, I just came down here to get some fresh air,” he glanced at Call for a moment and then cleared his throat. “And my jacket. The classrooms are freezing. Anyway,  lunch is about to end and considering my obviously genius presence had already been missed for quite some time, I should probably go.”

   Call turned and waved his hand half-heartedly, the boy’s odd demeanor already forgotten. “Okay, see you.”

Chapter Text

It took Call what felt like a few hours to actually reach where the barrow was hidden. Jasper’s directions had seemed brief at first, but the walk beneath the well had taken him into a confusing maze made of stone. Every single cobble and wall seemed to appear exactly the same. When he finally caught sight of rusted, moldy rungs he nearly jumped with joy, and then he remembered that finding the aforementioned ladder was only the first step to finding the library; he could celebrate when he actually made it there.

The memorial to Verity Torres, the girl Mr. Tanaka had dubbed a hero in the previous war, was a sad, small thing long covered by wayward weeds and small spiny thorns. It was clear no one had visited much less maintained the grave in passing years. She had given her life to a thousand year cause only to be forgotten. Call ran his finger over the chipped white stone of an angel whose hands were cupped together. At one time she may have held a bouquet of bright flowers, or perhaps a stick of incense or two, but now only dirty water from the past day’s previous rain was gathered in her palms.

    “Sometimes I wish I’d be forgotten too,” Call whispered, flicking the water at a dragonfly sitting nearby. It buzzed lazily away, unknowing of the importance of the place it had stood at. “ Vade retro Satana.”

His whispered words seemed so miniscule so negligible he almost thought that nothing would happen. They would disappear in the wind never to be heard again just like Verity’s legacy, but the earth caught his plea. The blades of grass rustled in anticipation and the very dirt split beneath his feet forming individual stairs disappearing into a crypt dark enough to rival onyx. 

Call could feel the breath of magic lingering at the entrance to the library- not the holy type Master Milagros had so eagerly showed them, but an older more familiar magic to him: dark magic. He didn’t waste any more time scaling the steps and looking about with wide eyes. The forbidden library was decrepit and dark. Neither lanterns nor sunlight glowed beneath the surface of the earth. Decaying pillars which held the entire structure up were turned at odd angles, like broken men crumbling underneath the weight of their burdens. At times dirt would fall into his face and the pillars would groan threatening collapse. He needed to get in and out of this place before he ended up accidentally buried too.

It didn’t take him long to figure out that the forbidden library was not the average library- half the books weren't even books, rather they were collections of papers strewn together by a thin string or folded corner. And, most were not written in common English. Call recognized some of the languages such as Latin and Italian, but other scripts he couldn’t hope to name. In one collection of papers he found, he swore it was not ink that had been penned, but blood. The bookshelves themselves were crumbling artifacts of an age long past. He worried that taking a single paper off the shelf might upset the balance and send the entire structure down.

Eventually, he realized that he wasn’t going to find anything of help in the shelves and went to follow the trail of dark magic he had sensed earlier. He followed until it led him into the farthest corner of the library and to a smooth wall in front of him. It was the only thing in the barrow that didn’t seem like it might disintegrate at a touch. Call reached his finger out to touch the door and flinched as a spark of heat greeted him; the door was made of pure silver. Large rusted chains covered the flat surface of the door from the bottom to the top, yet there was no keyhole to unlock the door. Flanking the door stood two large angels, their hands outstretched and cupped just like the angel he had seen outside only they had something within their hands: keys. 

Call dashed back toward the entrance and up the crumbling dirt stairs to stand in front of the angel statue he admired moments earlier. He hastily cleaned the water and dirt from her hands and stood on his tiptoes to peer closer. A small keyhole waited in the crevice of her palms, unused and forgotten as she was. He pulled the copper key from his pocket and inserted it in between her hands, satisfied as he felt the key slip into place and click. The earth trembled then, nearly sending him to his knees as it moaned and shook. The trees quivered too, their orange leaves flitting about. For a moment Call thought he had brought about Joseph’s true goal: world destruction or something of the like, but the world stilled soon after and everything returned to as it had been: still and quiet. He swallowed, pulling the key from her hands and turned to re-enter the crypt. With his back turned to the grave, Call failed to notice the large crack on Verity Torres’s tombstone.

When he returned the chains had turned to dust and the silver slab had opened, leaving a deep indent in the dirt underfoot. Call walked through the door cautiously, waiting for something to jump out, but nothing ever happened and soon his eyes adjusted once again to the even darker room; that was when he saw it: Floating pieces of parchment encased in glass. The glass shattered as his gaze raked over them, no longer able to contain the power they had held in the presence of their master. These were Dracula’s spells hidden by Ecclesia just as Joseph had said back at Alistair’s shop. 

Call did fall to his knees this time, magic drowning him and his mind like a deluge. He stared at his ever trembling hands, waiting for the flow of magic to still, but it didn’t stop. It kept coming and coming until he felt like he was suffocating. His entire body was trembling then, and he crumbled into a miserable heap on the dirt floor. Call clutched at the ring on his chest desperate for it to temper the darkness he was absorbing, yet to his horror a large crack had appeared on the face of the main gemstone. The ring had cracked. He tried to drag his own corpse from the room, but his limbs felt like sacks of lead and soon enough he felt his consciousness melting away. Of course nothing good could come from Joseph’s advice, he had been a fool to even consider it and now if he awoke being nothing more than a monster it could only be his fault.

Call opened his eyes to find himself at the centre of the holy pool again- the location he had taken his magical aptitude test, but this time it wasn’t him that laid in the boat it was Constantine. He looked nothing like the Constantine Call had seen previously, the Constantine who had condemned Beelzebub to his fate and cried about it. No, he was looking at the face of an innocent, of someone who knew nothing of death or toil. Constantine’s eyes flashed open at the moment, wide and sparkling silver. He sat up immediately and looked about, panic clear on his face. 

Unlike Call’s experience the boat had only made it halfway across the pool and still had a distance to go, but Constantine didn’t wait for it. He leapt from the boat, his bared chest reddening as it came in contact with the holy water, yet it didn’t deter him in the slightest. He rushed towards the docks and pulled himself up crazily, only stopping to grab another student’s shoulder. The boy looked up from the book he was reading and Call would have done a double take if he hadn’t just been in an onlooker’s position. Alistair, his father, looked up, his face was soft and devoid of the familiar stubble Call had always seen. His eyes looked larger too as did his glasses. His hair was long and shaggy forming a mullet at his neck; his sudden appearance made Call want to both laugh and cry.

    “What's wrong? You look upse-”

Constantine pulled him close, uncaring of the water he was getting on the other boy. At that moment three others rushed in as well, their voices mingling with one another in exclamation. One was Jericho, who shared Constantine’s face, aside from the fact his hair was a deep dark brown and much more unkempt. He wore large circular glasses that nearly covered his round gold-coloured eyes. The other boy that arrived had bronze hair gelled up into spikes and was holding two unopened bags of chips aside from the open one he cradled. Lastly, there was a single girl with dark hair just like his own and familiar amber eyes. Call had only seen his mother once, but the image had burned itself in his head and he would never forget nor mistake her. He was watching a younger version of Constantine’s apprentice group, a younger version of his parents. 

Constantine quickly pulled them all close together as well, hugging them all near in a huddle. He gazed at each of his companions' faces, barely trembling. Call distinctly caught his mom looking at Constantine’s dripping chest and then averting her eyes to which the boy holding chips nudged her for. 

    “Connie?” Jericho prompted looking at his brother with worry. “Are you alright?”

Constantine drooped his head, his silver-blonde hair flicking water about. Alistair scrunched up his nose distastefully as a droplet wet his glasses. 

    “All of you, my dear, dear friends,” he began, raising his head just enough to peer at them from under his dripping bangs. “I don’t know where we’ll all be in the future, in fact I don’t even know if I’ll be alive, but this time that we share- this brief moment of our lives that I have the honour of sharing with each of you is precious. And I want all you to know that I am wholly willing to stand by each one of you no matter the consequences. I ask for nothing in return, but that we are able to continue this facade a little while longer…” 

Each of his mannerisms and words had a distinct flair, a distinct sort of drama. It was like he was an actor professing his lines in a theatre, but there was an underlying sincerity in his words. His promise was genuine, and despite never even having known the previous Dracula, Call believed him. He believed his every word. 

    “What visions did you see after drinking the ichor?” Alistair asked, skeptically. 

    “What do you mean by ‘facade’?” Sarah asked, her eyebrows creased.

“I saw many things, really,” Constantine glanced at Jericho for a moment, and then back toward the stone ceiling. “I suppose I can’t tell all my secrets now, can I?”

He flicked his hair fully out of his eyes then, and grinned showing off his blunt teeth. “It wouldn’t be any fun if I spoiled everything, hm?”

Call’s vision went black for a moment and then returned, though this time it was back in one of Ecclesia’s dorm rooms. The room looked just like his own, only there were more appliances and items scattered about on one half. On the other half there was only white clothes and trinkets; on the whole it was much tidier than the other side. Alistair slumped down on a plush loveseat in the centre of the room. It seemed his cleaning habits hadn’t changed much from high school. 

As if in a TV show, Constantine swung open the door, still shirtless. It seemed whatever time this was it wasn’t far from his test. 

    “The microwave’s broken,” Alistair said by way of greeting. Call finally noticed that he was holding a bag of unpopped popcorn. 

    “Declan and Jericho’s must work, why not go use theirs?”

The conversation was so mundane Call had almost forgotten that these were real memories. That something as annoying as broken machinery had bothered the past Dracula too. 

    “I just sat down,” Alistair said, as if it were a solid reason. “Anyway, there was something I wanted to ask you. Are you a vampire?”

The question was so sudden, so out of the blue Call could watch a myriad of things cross Constantine’s face: fear, confusion, cold resignation, but in the end he schooled his expression into something of a smirk. A dangerous flicker awakened in his gaze and he turned to look at the other boy. 

    “Why would you think that?”

    “Well for one thing your skin is all red from being touched by holy water,” Alistair began, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “There is no way a human could dispatch four human-face trees by themself unscathed, and one time after you got out of the shower, I think you assumed I was asleep, but I wasn’t and I saw your eyes turn red and your fangs grow. To be honest, it doesn’t seem like you were trying to hide it from me all  that much.”

Constantine paused for a moment, unmoving. He didn’t seem scared anymore, or shocked, just contemplative. Like someone who knew of their own fate and had expected something of this nature to occur. 

    “Are you afraid?” he asked, suddenly walking towards him. His steps were slow and deliberate like a predator tracking its prey. He sat slowly down on the couch next to Alistair, leaning forward. “Do you intend to tell?”

    “No, I don’t think I could be afraid of someone as frivolous as you. As for the telling, I don't see why I should since it wouldn’t do any good for anyone.” 

Alistair didn’t flinch, he didn’t back away. He held Constantine’s gaze calmly, his expression even. The vampire smiled at him, pulling off his ring. Call saw the flash of red, he saw his canines grow. His skin was even more white than before, almost translucent and he inched ever closer to Alistair’s face menacingly.

    “Still not scared? Still not going to tell? I could very well end you right now Alistair, and no one would be any wiser.”

    “You’ve had plenty of nights to do that if you really wanted to. I know you won’t kill me. As annoying as you can be, I know I can trust you that much.”

Constantine froze for a second then, watching Alistair’s face for any sign of betrayal. Despite the pulsing red of his gaze, and his sickly pale skin his expression looked so human, so vulnerable. 

“Pretty loose morals for someone who attended Catholic school their entire life, wouldn’t you think? To just accept a vampire, you couldn’t-”

“You’re telling me I have loose morals? Do you of all people really have the right to accuse me of something like that?” 

Constantine raised his eyebrows in annoyance and huffed, falling back into the couch tiredly- any sign of his continued threats gone. Alistair smiled softly then, melting into the couch beside him.

    “Glad to know you’re done invading my personal space. So anyway, now that your vampirism is out in the open, you do have magic then right?” 

    Constantine looked at him and ran a hand through his hair. “I do.”

    “Think you might be able to pop my popcorn for me then? Right here?”

    “Pray tell me that is not the only reason you asked if I was a vampire?”

Alistair shrugged, kicking his feet up on the couch and relaxing them atop Constantine’s slumped form. The blonde looked at him with a mixture of suffering and fondness.

    “Never had a reason to bring it up before now.”

Constantine snatched the bag from Alistair’s hands and conjured a flame underneath it, heating the bag almost instantly. Before Alistair could reclaim his snack, Constantine tore the bag open and drank half the contents only stopping as Alistair reached forward to grab it from his hands. 

    “You scornful, sardonic, unfeeling beast! You nearly made me think I lost my one true best friend over the differences between our species and you had to do it right after my traumatising time in that magical aptitude test… How could you? And all over some stupid corn!”

    “Sorry I guess,” Alistair murmured cooly. He tossed a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth. “Didn’t realize it was such a sensitive topic.”

    “Of all the things I expected you to say to that, an apology was not one of them. Though I daresay an apology without kneeling and worshipping is not an apology at all.”

Alistair rolled his eyes as Constantine shoved his own feet in the other boy’s face grinning.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jasper paced around, his hands fisted in his pockets. Classes had finished hours before, and dinner had only just ended, yet Call still hadn’t  returned. The sky was beyond dark now and a creeping sort of disquiet had settled itself in the air. Call had been acting unhinged all week. He had seemed mostly fine before the magical aptitude test, but afterwards he had seemed different. It was like something awakened in him, driving him into a hastened craze. 

Moments before Call had demanded he disclose the forbidden library’s location, Jasper had seen it. He had seen a ghastly deprivation in the boy’s eyes, a painful bereavement etched across his face like a scar. Jasper recognized the look. A few years ago he had carried a similar one too, one that had been left by his father. He was almost positive Call’s had been inflicted by his father too.

Jasper paused midstep, it was nearly sunset and he still hadn’t returned… Which meant it was his duty to go and find the missing vampire. If he waited any longer, chances were he would never escape without being seen. Jasper grabbed his handy knapsack and neared the door.

    “I’m going out Kai, protect the hoard while I’m gone.”

Kai, his roommate, nodded his head silent as he usually was. 

Jasper sauntered out, his hands still fisted in his pockets. On his way out the door he had caught sight of Tamara and Aaron lounging on a wall further back, conversing like criminals with a deep dark secret. Neither of them knew anything of what a true secret was. 

    “Jasper, hey, Jasper!” Aaron called after him, but Jasper ignored him and kept walking his steps determined. It was only when Tamara put a firm hand on his shoulder that he stopped and faced her with his arms crossed. Aaron was still a few paces back trying to turn into a wall decoration.

    “What is it?”

    “What's been with you Jasper? Why’ve you been so defensive lately?” Tamara asked, mimicking his mannerism and folding her own arms. 

    “I’m the one that's defensive?” Jasper asked, looking at her with his eyebrows raised. “If I remember correctly it was you who was on the defense. At least ever since Call put you in your place. Have you ever thought that maybe you do cling to Aaron too much?”

Tamara opened her mouth in shock, but Aaron arrived at her side and Jasper couldn’t help but roll his eyes. His timing was always impeccable.

    “What do you want? Shouldn’t you be looking for your just right bed, Goldilocks? It's late, I wouldn't want you to miss any more classes catching up on your beauty sleep.”

    Aaron took a deep breath in through his nose and looked at him calmly. “I was just wondering if you knew where Call is. I haven’t seen him since he passed us in the cafeteria earlier today.”

    “Why should I know? He’s your roommate.”

Aaron averted his gaze, looking crestfallen. 

“Well if you don’t need anything else, I’m leaving. See you guys never.”

    “Where are you going at this time?” Tamara asked, unmasked anger clear in her voice.

    “I’m just taking a quick visit to the library,” Jasper said, smiling falsely. He waved his hand at the pair as he strolled away carelessly. 

It didn’t take long for him to retrace the familiar steps he had taken to return to the forbidden library. Despite being at least five years ago, the path had barely changed and no new obstacles had appeared. The trip was only slightly unnerving- mostly due to the fact he had an awful bubbling in his stomach, like something was blatantly wrong and only he was ignorant of it. The state of Verity Torres’s memorial didn’t help ease his worries either: the entire place was in ruin. Not a single stone nor plaque had been left standing. The guardian angel that had stood vigilantly for so many years had a large crack going through her face leaving her countenance crumbling and disgraceful. Verity’s own gravestone had been reduced to a miserable pile of rubble at his feet.

Jasper didn't care for the defiled ornaments- jarring as it was seeing their destruction on such a wide scale. There was definitely a chance Call was in trouble, he didn’t have time to just stand around gawking. He hurried down the already opened crypt and swiped a match on a nearby bookshelf. The glow seemed to be absorbed by an overwhelming cloud of darkness that had settled over the entire room, and the stench of evil was unmistakable. The library hadn’t changed a bit since his last visit. 

    “Call?'' he asked the darkness, his voice seemed so miniscule in the vast space and so did his match. “Anybody home?”

Jasper distinctly heard a crackling sound behind himself, but he was too far in to be aided by the light of the moon. He could see neither before nor behind himself, the darkness had tightened its blinding grip on his eyes.

Jasper crept forward slowly, careful not to accidentally misstep. Unease was washing over him in waves, hanging onto his feet like fetters. He didn’t want to go forward, he wanted to go back to his dorm, but Call had been missing for far too long. They had promised to standby each other--

A faint flickering glow caught Jasper’s eyes, pulsing with every beat of his heart. It had to be Call, it just had to be. Jasper dashed forward, knocking into things and causing the ceiling of the barrow to crumble dangerously, but he didn’t pay any attention to it. He neared an unfamiliar silver door he swore hadn’t been there on his own visit, and slipped inside the room, his eyes seeking the light. He glanced about, his horror growing as he took in the state of the hidden recess. 

The walls were speared with shards of glass, the floor, everywhere. They had sliced through the sanctified silver as if it was nothing more than a lump of warmed butter  And there in the centre of it all, lay Call his ring pulsing lightly in the darkness. Jasper sucked in a breath and made his way through the maze of shattered glass, careful not to accidentally injure himself. He knelt down at his friend’s side and rolled him around checking for any scratches. Despite the surplus of glass surrounding the boy, Call himself was luckily uninjured, at least as far as Jasper could see. 

“Call, Call! Get up!” Jasper nudged him, and when that didn't work he decided to shake him, but Call didn’t so much as flinch. He was completely still, bereft of breath and life, just as a vampire was supposed to be, yet Jasper couldn't still his rising fear. He reached in his sack, groping around blindly in an effort to find something that might help him. 

He pulled a water bottle from his pack and unscrewed the lid without a second thought, dumping the water on Call’s fallen form. When his second thought did decide to arrive, he realized how ridiculous the idea actually was, but Call’s sputtering brought him immediate relief.

    “Call?!” Jasper cried kneeling at his side, his water bottle almost completely emptied. Call pulled himself into a sitting position weakly and looked at the other boy. “I-I thought you were- I thought you died, or something!”

    “I can’t die,” Call whispered, still trying to purge his throat of water. When he spoke again it was much louder. “You’ve got to have stupid Vampire Killer to do that and that weapon is tucked safely away with my dad right now and he’s been parading around the country with freaking Joseph of all people so there is no physical way-”

    “Your dad has Vampire Killer?! The whip?! And he’s with Joseph?!” Tamara’s silhouette slowly came into view and she stopped only when her face was illuminated enough to show the severity of emotion warping it. “Your dad stole Vampire Killer and is working with Joseph…?”

Her repeated words hung in the air like an omen, foreboding and sealing. 

    “You followed me?” Jasper whispered, his face ashen. That was what he had heard a few steps back, he had heard Tamara following him. He had led her straight to a place she would never care to understand, to people she could never understand. 

    “I-it's not what you think Tamara,” Call began, glancing at Jasper’s face and back toward her. His usually grey eyes had a glossy red sheen. “My dad, he's trying to help-”

    “He’s trying to help Joseph, you mean? My parents have said before that everyone in Constantine Madden’s party was a traitor and your dad-”

    “My dad didn’t betray anyone!” Call half hissed half yelled. Jasper flinched, taken aback at the inhuman sound, and Call himself nearly faltered, but Jasper could see the anger ground him in his defense. “Your parents are liars, my dad didn’t steal Vampire Killer to hurt anyone he’s trying to-”

    “He’s trying to do what? Help people by cooperating with a vampire? By keeping Vampire Killer away from the one person who can use it and bring us all divine retribution?” Tamara snapped, staring Call down. 

    “Drew was a vampire,” Call said. He looked sick. “You guys worked with him.”

Aaron appeared out of the darkness then, Havoc at his side and a bright torch in his hand. He looked about the room, his brow creased and lips thinned. “Joseph and Drew aren’t the same Call…”

    Call wobbled to his feet, drunkenly gazing at his friends with false hope clouding his eyes. “Well, I know it sounds suspicious, but you guys have to believe me. My dad and I are still in contact. I know he won’t do anything so just trust me. You can’t tell anybody and-”

    “I’m telling,” Tamara informed him, shaking her head. “My parents aren’t liars, you know, they were right. If your dad really wasn't guilty you wouldn’t be begging us to not tell Ecclesia in the first place.”

She spun on her heel turning toward the silver door.

“Honestly Call, think about what you're doing by trying to protect your dad. I know you love him, but by keeping such important knowledge a secret you’re hurting more people in the long run,” Tamara paused, looking at him from the corner of her dark eyes. “I really didn’t expect you to be so selfish.”

    Call stared at her back, hatred darkening his already shadowed countenance and turning him into something of a monster. Jasper couldn’t tell if it was the lack of lighting or not, but bathed in shadow Call was beginning to look less and less human. “You’re right Tamara, I am selfish. I’ve become really selfish, and I’m not gonna stop. I can’t let you go tell anyone- I won’t let you go.”

Call leapt over the barricades of glass with inhuman grace and neared the mage his hand outreached. 

    “Call-” Aaron started, a warning in his voice.

    “Don’t interject, Belmont,” Jasper said, walking to stand before the blonde. “It's not like you could even understand anything about having parents anyway since you don’t have any.”

Aaron stared at him, his jaw locked in place and eyes narrowed. His words were ground out painfully, as if he had never wanted to speak them."This has nothing to do with that Jasper."

“You’ve gone too far Jasper! Take it back! Take it back right now!” Tamara demanded, pushing past Call and toward him. 

“Take back what you said about Call first,” Jasper said, dragging his arm slowly down a protruding shard of glass on the wall. “You guys are always so quick to pass judgement on people with your stupid fancy last names, and you always conveniently seem to forget that there is a person behind it all, but don’t worry I haven’t forgotten who you two really are.”

Jasper brought his dripping arm above the torch Aaron was holding and let his blood drip, making the fire sputter and flicker green. 

    “What are you doing?” Call whispered, his pupils elongating. 

    “You’re nothing more than a spoiled brat, Tamara. You’ve always been daddy’s perfect little princess who gets every little thing she asks for and faces no consequences for her wrongs because no one would want to get into a fight with Councilmen Rajavi,” Jasper pulled his bleeding arm back to himself, ensuring that everyone's eyes were glued to his every motion. Havoc whined and flattened his ears against his head. “And you Mr. Belmont have been the exact opposite. You’re just a pathetic foster kid who's gotten a big head because people have finally paid attention to you for once, but really, you know its not actually you they idolize, it's the idea of you that you'll never live up to-”  

Tamara brought her hand up to Jasper’s cheek and slapped him hard enough to cause a sharp sound to resound in the library. “Shut up Jasper, you need to shut up and stop whatever idiotic nonsense you're up to. Using your blood is-”

“What? ‘Heretical’?” Jasper ripped off the left sleeve of his uniform arm and displayed a glowing emblem that had been seared into his skin: a pentacle that burned with fiery embers. “You know, I knew if you ever saw this Tamara, you would pay even less attention to me, but now I don’t even want to try and live up to your stupid expectations. I’m better without them hanging over my head."

"Blood magic doesn't just hurt the people you want it to Jasper, it'll hurt you too. You don't have to live up to our 'stupid expectations', but don't be stupid about your own life." Aaron said, his voice shaking with repressed anger. 

"It's too late for that," Call said, staring at the torch Aaron had been holding. As if on cue with his words, the flame flickered for a moment, leaving them in complete darkness and then sputtered back to life with a sickly green hue.

The air suddenly grew thick with the sound of buzzing, large bugs spilled out of the torch flitting about with liquid wings and bloated, bloody bodies. Aaron immediately dropped the torch out of instinct, but a few bugs clung to his skin leaving sickly red and purple patches along the length of his arm. He winced unbearably, trying to wipe them off, but even after he squashed their grotesque forms more insects would come and swarm him.

"Aaron!" Tamara yelled nearing him before flinching back herself. The surplus of bugs had begun to buzz around her as well, their humming resembling a cacophony from hell.

Jasper stared in horror for a moment as his friends were tormented by the mass of bugs made of his own cursed blood. For a moment he even felt something akin to pity, but his heart swelled with righteous anger. "So saith the lord God of the Hebrews, if thou refusest to let my people go; behold, I will bring about the eighth plague of Egypt: locusts..."

Call stared at Jasper's pale face, the weight of his actions and words slowing him. Confusion and anger flashed across his face, yet Jasper still couldn't bring himself to care.

"You-you- why would you…? How did you…?"

Jasper broke out of his reverie, his heart pounding louder than the beating of the locust's wings. He stared at Call, grabbed his arm, and dashed out the silver door. Only Havoc followed them this time, following after them in their mad dash through the crumbled memorial and into the darkened forest.  Jasper held onto Call's arm long after they had left the forbidden library. Even long after they had dashed into the forest, only stopping when he could no longer breathe, when he no longer had a choice.

Jasper was panting, breathing out of his mouth to gulp as much air as he could, still gripping Call's arm like it was his saving grace. The idea was even ironic to him.

"What-" Call paused, letting his voice fill the silence. There was an edge of shock lining his tone, but it disappeared as anger replaced it in an all consuming haze. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Why would you do that!? Those were our friends! There was absolutely no reason-"

Jasper  grabbed the front of his collared shirt and shoved him onto the ground, his own blunt teeth bared in a savage display of fury. “I saved your life and identity! The least you could be is grateful! And don’t you dare talk about those two as if they were your friends! If you think what just happened was bad, imagine what would have happened if they had figured out you were Dracula! Tamara would have tried to kill you on the freaking spot!”

Call stared at his face, his pearly coloured eyes still lightly glowing red. He looked as unbearably tired as Jasper felt, yet here they were dishing it out on one another.

    “You didn’t save anybody! You just hurt them! What do those locusts even do? Can they kill them?” Call shoved Jasper off of himself, and sat up shaking his head. “What is your problem with Aaron? He’s literally the nicest person ever. He didn't even punch you when you deserved it.”

    “My problem with Aaron is the fact that he- that he stole everything from me,” Jasper had stood up once again then, pacing and pointing his finger angrily down at the grass below him. “He stole it and then he just acts like its all fine all the time and Tamara just buys into all the shit he says even though he's constantly throwing me under the bus-”

Call sat up and wrapped his hands around his knees and looked up at Jasper very tiredly. “How did he throw you under the bus?” 

Jasper clenched his jaw until he felt it was near breaking and took a deep breath through his nose. It did nothing to temper the amount of rage he felt. “You remember when we first met, right? I was carrying all those stupid weapons? Well all of those, like Vampire Killer which I hit you with, were Aaron’s. I was carrying them when we all got separated,” Call nodded numbly in understanding. “Well, apparently one of those two stuck up pricks told that to the idiot council and I was the one held responsible for the fact that Vampire Killer went missing. The first three days I was gone wasn’t because I was signing in Havoc it was' cause I was being bombarded with interrogation questions to find that damn whip. And eventually blamed for losing it in the first place!”

Call stared at him, fully awake then. 

“But that's not the only thing! Aaron and Tamara both have been treating me like a piece of trash for the past ten years! It's like they think I’m disposable or something. Maybe its because I’m not a Belmont or a Belnades so I can’t fit in their stupid club, but before you came I was always chasing after them, cleaning up after their messes, like I was forced to do this time around too, and bearing the brunt of their wrongs while they go get to have a tea-party with the Cardinal who congratulates them for whatever they did.”

Jasper took another deep breath, one that actually calmed him to a certain extent and sat down in front of Call with his head lowered. 

“The locusts can’t kill them, they can only cause irritation and bruising. I summoned that plague specifically because I knew they wouldn’t be in danger, and it would buy us the time we needed to escape.”

Call nodded in response, turning his face up toward the stars. While he had been angry earlier, the fight in him hadn’t seemed to last long and Jasper knew it wasn’t because his reasoning was all that great or anything. Call had looked bone-weary days ago, and it was clear now he was really reaching his limit. “Guess you were pretty nice to them then considering the fact you could have killed their first born children.”

“I’ve always been nice to her even when she didn’t deserve it.”

Call raised his eyebrows in what was supposed to be a dramatic expression, but his half-lidded eyes took away from it. He looked seconds away from keeling over and passing out. 

    “I’m not even gonna comment on that one,” Call murmured, falling backward on the grass and cradling his head in his arms. “It's a discussion for tomorrow morning.”

Jasper stared at him, the weight of his own actions falling heavily on his shoulders. His ‘revenge’ had felt good at first, in the same way it felt so good to itch a pestering bug bite only to realize you made things much much worse. A bug bite would eventually fade luckily, its irritation gone, but Jasper didn’t know if his actions would. He didn’t know if he wanted them to be forgotten or not. He had felt so angry in the moment and not just at Aaron but at Tamara too. She had been pivotal in making him feel overlooked, and yet even after yelling and tormenting them he felt nothing more than a cold emptiness in his chest. Nothing more than insignificance.

Chapter Text

“Aaron, you must answer me: Who was it that cast the eighth plague of Egypt on you?” Master Rufus asked, one hand clasped behind his back tightly, the other clenched into a fist as he paced back and forth. There was no evidence of stress on his face, but Aaron had lived with him long enough to recognize the tension that had edged its way into his posture, the fear that crept into his words. 

Aaron hated the fact that he made Master Rufus feel so worried for him, he hated even more that he couldn’t sufficiently give him the answer he wanted so badly. Aaron owed him everything: his clothes, his meals, his very life. Master Rufus had adopted him only a year after their first meeting, and the effect that had on the remainder of his life was unforgettable. It was impossible to forget the love a grief-stricken man like Master Rufus had been willing to risk on a nobody like him. 

Master Rufus had been the first person at Ecclesia to really see him not as Aaron Belmont, but as Aaron Stewart, a foster boy with a criminal father and no mother to speak of. Master Rufus had been the first to really look at him , and not what he could be… Jasper’s words really had stung pretty deeply, but Aaron wouldn’t have him expelled for that. That was after all, the cost of using heretical magic here at Ecclesia: expulsion.

 It had also been thanks to Master Rufus that he had been able to receive guidance, care, and love like he could never imagine and if he had learned anything from his multiple counselling sessions with the man it was that bad actions like Jasper’s only stemmed from something a lot more severe, and Aaron wasn’t about to out him for responding badly to external circumstances-- not that that made his lack of an answer anymore easy to tell Master Rufus. That also didn’t mean that Jasper didn’t deserve a punch or two for acting like a jerk, but Aaron wasn’t going to be the one to hit him. 

    “I can’t tell you who did it, but it wasn’t their fault… Mostly.” Aaron averted his gaze, his fingers itching to scratch at his splotchy skin. As soon as they had returned, both he and Tamara had been swarmed by adults, all of whom seemed set on prying the answers out of them, but when Master Rufus had appeared, Aaron had been sure they had been saved. Then he realized Master Rufus was worried on a more personal level which basically meant he was in for a much longer and more painful lecture and questioning session. Rufus had already been going at it for the past hour.

    “Aaron, it is not simply because you are a Belmont that I am so perturbed that you sustained such gruesome injuries--,” Master Rufus began once again, pacing anxiously with his hands clasped behind his back. Aaron was almost sure he was about to launch into yet another lecture, but then he paused and levelled him with his piercing gaze. “If you refuse to answer me, then I am completely content with waiting. Your meals will be delivered to your room as will any other necessities. You will be in complete isolation until you are ready to speak.”

    “But I am ready to talk,” Aaron said, without any real force in his voice. He couldn’t stop replaying the scenes from the previous night over and over in his head. He couldn’t forget the sickly green hue of flame flashing over Jasper’s face, or the glowing pentacle that had been seared into his skin. Worst of all he couldn’t wipe the feeling: the uneasiness, the creeping disquiet that had surrounded Call like a swarm of flies clinging to carrion. Aaron had felt it as clear as day-- something blatantly wrong with the other boy, something he couldn’t discern, but that was so obviously there he couldn’t deny its existence.

    “Mr. Stewart,” Master Rufus said, by way of beckoning, a truly worried expression crossing his face. It disappeared quickly leaving only a few traces of worry. It was rare, Aaron barely recognized it. “You need to rest. It is imperative to your health that you recover. We will speak again in the morning.”

Aaron nodded, barely registering the words. He couldn’t seem to pull his eyes away from the welts on his arms; from the thoughts in his head. 

After what only felt like a few minutes, there was a soft scraping sound from the far reaches of his room, barely audible above the sound of the whistling wind outside. If it wasn’t for his enhanced hearing, he may not have caught it at all.

    “Aaron?” a soft voice whispered, delicate and weary as if she was straining to speak. Tamara walked forward tentatively from the wall she had snuck in through, her braids loose and eyes red. She bore none of the physical damage Aaron had, but he knew Jasper’s betrayal had impacted her far more than it had him. “Did you get him expelled?” 

Her words shook as much as she did in her pale nightgown. When looking upon her Aaron had first suspected he was looking at a ghost, but he quickly realized it was only her, his best friend. She stood there, her hands wrapped around her elbows while she quivered silently like a wailing child after a nightmare. Seeing Tamara like this reminded Aaron of Master Rufus before: foreign, different. She never allowed herself to fall apart like this, never. 

    “No, I didn’t,” Aaron said, tearing his gaze away from her form.

She stared at him for a moment, still quivering and then a pulsing red flushed in her cheeks and her eyes narrowed. 

    “You should have! He deserves it, hiding such evil magic behind our backs!” she slammed her fist into her hand, breathing heavily. Aaron knew she was no longer paying any attention to him. “He betrayed his family, he betrayed Ecclesia, he betrayed me !”

    “You didn’t tell on him either then,” the blonde concluded, falling back on his bed. She paused mid-tantrum to sniffle.

    “I--” Aaron imagined she looked everywhere about the room before deciding to sit on Call’s bed opposite of him to stare out the window at the empty sky. The new moon left them with only the distant stars to illuminate the growing darkness that crept at his windows. “I only told them about Alistair Hunt and his involvement with the whip. I didn’t say anything else.”

Silence enveloped the room in a cold, unfamiliar embrace. It lingered between them, as heavy as unfulfilled dreams and forgotten obligations. It weighed on Aaron’s mind like his one thousand unanswered prayers. 

    “We’ve got to go after them--”

    “What?! Are you crazy?!” Tamara asked, approaching him and pulling him back into a sitting position. “Jasper literally tried to hurt you! And I’m not even going to mention how freaking creepy Call was! He couldn’t even walk straight back in the castle, and then he goes jumping like an acrobat…There was beyond a doubt something inhuman in that library with us, and I’m almost positive it was him.”

    “But that's part of why we have to ,” Aaron said, pulling Tamara’s hands from his shoulders. “They’re our friends and they’re obviously into some not that great stuff and we can’t tell Ecclesia about them… So it has to be us to save them. No one else can know or go after them, or else we’ll put them at risk!”

    “Would a friend really attack you?” Tamara asked, her eyes imploring him for a truthful answer. Aaron set his jaw and straightened his back, averting his eyes.

    “I know at one point in my life I might have pulled something similar to Jasper, and when I did no one came after me cause’ no one cared enough, but if someone had , it would have meant the world to me,” Aaron lifted his gaze to meet hers and rubbed at the already fading welts on his arms. “I’m not gonna abandon them, it's my duty as both of their friends even if they don’t want me there.”

    “But we don’t even know where they’re going, or what they’re trying to do. It’ll just be stupid if we leave just to wander around aimlessly!” Tamara argued back, frowning. Aaron knew she would only say something along those lines if she had already mostly agreed. There was practically nothing left to argue.

    “Uhm, knock knock, Master Rufus told me to bring some gauze for your…” Alex peeked around the door, his violet eyes wide as he glanced between Aaron and Tamara hastily. “Ooh my bad Aaron, you’re getting some action tonight I’ll come back later--”

    “Get in here! Now that you’ve seen us you can’t leave!” Tamara whisper-shouted, grabbing his arm and pulling him. Alex looked at her fearfully, but allowed himself to be pulled inside. “We need your help.” 

Aaron looked at her with a raised brow to which she raised one of her own sharp brows to motion silence from him and turned back to Alex. 

“When was the last time you saw Callum Hunt?”

    “Uhm,” Alex scratched his head, his nervous expression replaced by a thoughtful one. “I saw him run out of Master Rufus’s office earlier today at lunch and he actually dropped something--”

    “What did he drop?!” Aaron asked, jumping toward him eagerly. Tamara leaned forward herself, intrigued. 

    “It was just this piece of paper,” Alex said, pulling something from his pocket and handing it to them apathetically. “I called out to him so I could return it, but he just kept going and completely ignored me. Something has been going on with that kid recently, I swear…”

Aaron unfolded the crumbled paper and read the unfamiliar handwriting as many times as he could, memorising each of the words.

                                            44°29'41.3"N 61°26'29.0"W

                                We can end Dracula’s threat once and for all.

“Coordinates!” Tamara said, pointing at the numbers obviously. Aaron nodded, a smile rising to his lips.

“Call does have the same goal as us, see Tamara? He’s probably headed there to meet up with his dad to end Dracula or something!”

    “Or this could be a very obvious trap on Call and Jasper’s part into trying to fool us out of Ecclesia’s protection! It's endearing how optimistic you are, but Aaron you have got to be realistic sometimes!”

    Aaron smiled sheepishly, raising a finger to scratch at his cheek in an innocent manner. “I mean that's why we balance each other out so well, right Tamara? You’re the realist, and I’m the idealist.”

    “And I’m thinking I should get out of here before I become associated with your weird slightly nefarious plans…” Alex looked between them and slowly began to back his way up towards the door. 

    “Oh no you don’t,” Tamara warned daringly. “If you want me to keep you in good light with Kimiya, you’re gonna help us with one more thing.”

Call stood up hastily, glancing around in confusion. He was outside, there were blades of grass stuck to his shirt, and Jasper lay beside him seemingly asleep… The memories of the previous night came flowing back into his mind as unwanted as the piercing rays of sunlight that burned his newly opened eyes. Anger, hatred, regret; so much had transpired in such a small amount of time, Call could only recount the fervent emotions that had seared themselves in his mind. He couldn’t forget them even if he wanted to. 

    “We can’t go back,” Jasper said, his voice breaking the silence. Call looked at him, his words blowing past him weightlessly. 

“What was that last night?” he asked, staring across the expanse of gold-tinted trees. He had arrived at Ecclesia no more than a week before and he had already decided to leave its ‘protective’ hospitality. A dull pang of regret echoed in his mind, but it was negligible. There didn’t seem to be much of a desire for him to stay now that Aaron probably hated him. Personally, Call didn’t care if Tamara hated him-- she was a dirty traitor through and through.“I thought you couldn’t do magic?”

“Anyone can do heretical magic even though it means immediate expulsion from a school like Ecclesia,” Jasper explained, twiddling with some grass. He wouldn’t look up and meet Call’s gaze. “After performing the rite of the blood moon, you burn the pentacle on your skin with vampire blood and boom: blood magic. My dad put me through it years ago. It was the last thing we did together before he left for good.”

“I’m sure that was a fun farewell party,” Call said, looking away when Jasper flashed him an angry glare. 

“Oh yeah, it was great there were streamers and everything.” Jasper deadpanned, his lips a thin line. Call slightly wanted to slap himself for letting the insensitive comment slip, but his mouth always got the better of him. Always .

“You know, I was reliving Constantine’s memories before you splashed me awake and back in his time, when his group found out he was a vampire, they didn’t care at all. It literally made no difference to them. If you hadn’t done all your bug magic I might have been able to just tell Aaron and Tamara the truth and they might have been fine with it.”

“If you’re trying to make me feel worse about what I did last night you don’t have to. I already feel it and I don’t need you to say anything ,” Jasper seethed, harassing some ants with the grass spear he had tied into being. 

“I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad,” Call said, moving to sit next to Havoc’s still sleeping form. “I was planning on leaving Ecclesia so I could stop my dad and Joseph’s plans anyway. You just helped everything end a little earlier I guess.” 

Jasper fell back into the grass, abandoning his grass spear, and running his fingers through his already dishevelled hair. His gaze lingered on the bright morning sky, his eyes reflecting the pinks and blues in an almost dreamy way. It only reminded Call of the previous night when swirls of heretical magic had coloured his usually dark eyes. “Great, now I’ve fallen low enough to be thanked by Dracula of all people. Why doesn’t somebody just kill me already so Hell will welcome me with its arms open wide?”

“You get to live out Hell on earth with me first,” Call comforted, smirking a bit. After being paranoid and secretive for so many days he had somehow managed to willinging walk into a sad little delusional pit where he alone had thrown a self pity party. Then he had accidentally acquired the remainder of Dracula’s spells, and that had put a wrecking ball to the rest of his emotional state, but after a good night’s rest, he couldn't bring himself to care about any of the stupid stuff that had transpired the night before. He felt so apathetic towards everything he didn’t know if it was a side effect of acquiring the remainder of the dark magic, or his own personal detachment toward the rising drama Tamara had decided to cause. 

It didn’t help that there were bigger things going on with Joseph and his dad anyway. That was the stuff that took first priority. Without his nervousness and exhaustion clouding his judgement, it was almost funny how simple and easy it was to come to that conclusion. 

“We’ve got a really long way to go from here.”

Jasper groaned, covering his eyes with his palms. 

    “You’ve been hinting at crap this entire time,” he said. “What exactly are you going on about this time? Where are we going?”

“Well, to be honest I don’t have that much to go off of, but the day after Joseph showed up my dad showed up and tried to leave this letter with Mr. Rufus that has a location and a death note to Dracula.”

“You mean Master Rufus,” Jasper corrected, taking the crumbled paper from Call’s hand. He sighed tiredly, shaking his head. “And wow, should I even be surprised anymore? Of course you’ve been meeting up secretly with Master Joseph while at school. He must have been the one to tell you about the library.”

 After glancing over it he narrowed his eyes and threw the paper on the ground, sitting up completely. “You idiot! Your dad tried to kill you once and now he’s trying to get the Order to help kill you, and you want to show up at this obvious as hell trap and do what exactly?!”

Call fell flat on his own butt, hopeless. “I mean I didn’t think of it like that. I just kind of thought that we needed to get Vampire Killer back from my dad before he did something he couldn’t take back. And now that Tamara went and probably spread all my business all over the school, it's even more important we go save my dad, cause’ they’re all going to be after him.”

“So you want us to walk out of one pit of enemies into another one just to save the guy that's been trying to kill you so that he doesn't accidentally get killed by the guys we just left who were also trying to kill you?”

“Well, I mean, it sounds worse when you say it like that…” Call muttered, scratching Havoc’s back. “Like, if I say let's go eat some dark brown, diarrhea-inducing slop versus saying let's go eat chocolate ice cream, the effect is completely different.”

“It's completely different when we’re talking about death on one hand and lactose intolerance on the other.”

“I mean, yeah, okay, I guess. Maybe you are right to some degree, but if it was your dad, even if you hated him--”

“I would get him out of a pinch if his life was in danger?” Jasper sunk back into the grass, seemingly exhausted despite having just woken up. “You might not be able to make any logically compelling arguments, but your emotional ones work enough, I guess. I’ll help you just this once, but after this--”

Call waved his hand smiling for the first time in days. His face felt weird and stiff when he did it, but at the same time, it felt nice-- weirdly nice since he was smiling about Jasper, but still nice nonetheless. 

    “Yeah, yeah, whatever your usual stupid disclaimer is.”

Jasper huffed in annoyance a ways away from him, but said nothing more. It hit Call then, in a sad, hopeless sort of way:  now neither of them had anywhere to return to. Jasper had been protecting him, and he lost his friends, school, and possibly even his home for it. They both had nothing to return to; they would just be wandering vagabonds for the remainder of time, which would be a long time considering he was Dracula… Maybe he would end up building some dark evil castle, not to dominate the world, but just to live in. They could have a giant game room with consoles, and cool snacks like in the Morris’s Cafe. And maybe other people might realize that death wasn’t the only option for vampires. Maybe certain sure-to-be angry blondes that were fated to stab him would at least. 

    “Hey,” Jasper asked, interrupting his plans for their bright and shiny future. “What happens if the church’s people find your dad before we do?”

    “Oh, we don’t have to worry about that,” Call said, picking up the discarded paper and pocketing it once again. “There's only one of these letters with my dad’s location. Aside from Joseph and my dad, we’re the only people in the world that know the exact place to look.”

Chapter Text

The glowing morning had given way to an overcast sky and a mood bleaker than Master Rufus’s history lectures. Grey skies above and ashen dirt underfoot only seemed to dullen their already dreary surroundings and slow their already depleting steps. The earthy smell of rain lingered in the moist air and held wet, annoying promises for the upcoming day. Thanks to some unseen force Call most certainly didn’t believe in, the rain didn’t fall. Instead, a misty sort of fog settled over the forest covering it in a thick blanket of nearly impenetrable white. Cloudy wisps tickled the boys’ noses and curled around skeletal  branches like living pieces of twine. There was no birdsong nor any other sound aside from the crunching of dried grass and orange leaves underfoot. 

    “It's so cold!” Jasper repeated for the hundredth time that day. His nose was tinged pink, as were the tips of his ears. A typical autumn day in Virginia couldn’t have dropped anywhere beneath seventy degrees, and yet here Jasper was shivering like the next ice age was happening. The Asian boy rubbed at his arms roughly to try and generate warmth making Call snicker under his breath at his failed attempts. “All of my stuff is still at Ecclesia, don’t you think that you could go in there with all your bat powers and like, grab all of my clothes and stuff and maybe something to eat?” 

    “I don’t know how to turn into a bat and my ring is half broken, remember?” Call said, slapping away an outstretched branch. It looked like a clawed hand reaching out to grab him.  “Why don’t you use heretical magic and summon frogs? Havoc loves frogs and we could eat the legs.”

    “Those are made of my blood you know,” Jasper said, gagging. “And blood isn’t on the menu for all of us.”

Call rolled his eyes, stepping onto a particularly steep mountain of leaves and nearly losing his balance. He steadied himself with vampiric grace and pretended as if his tilting was natural.

    “Just so you know your blood wasn’t that good, okay? I don’t wanna drink it either.”    

    “What are you even saying? Have you ever even drank anyone else's blood?”

Call placed one firm foot on the fallen trunk of a tree, determined to use it as a makeshift bridge. It was covered in weird pellets and fruits that looked nothing like anything he had seen before. Were the squirrels in Ecclesia religious and magic too? Did that somehow cause them to poop giant seed-like pebbles? Could they cast sparkly, culty magic too?

    “I mean no, but everytime I walk past Aaron it's like--” Call caught himself mid sentence, his cheeks reddening as shame decided to make its very, very late entrance. “I mean like, you know, cause’ he’s a Belmont or something.”

His wording sounded weird and awkward even to him, and he chose not to glance at Jasper despite the sudden urge to do so. 

    “You can smell him?” Jasper repeated, incredulously. “I thought you were a vampire, not a dog?”

Havoc yapped at that question, poking Call in his leg excitedly with his nose. Alistair had always acted like he was incapable of calling Havoc by his name, and had taken to just calling him ‘the dog’. Now Havoc had taken to responding to both his real name, and his substitute one. 

    “According to that Dracula 101 book I stole from Ecclesia, Dracula can turn into a wolf and an actual bat, so .”

Jasper clicked his tongue, ready to say something, but tripped roughly on a low-hanging vine and ended up pulling them both down to face the weird poop pellets Call had been eyeing warily.    

      “Watch where you’re walking--” Call began, but when Jasper, who lay beneath him didn’t so much as flinch at his words, he poked his exposed side. “Hey, uh, Jasper?”

    “I can’t do this anymore!” Jasper groaned, moving his arms to cover his eyes. Call let his shoulders sag and looked at the boy tiredly. “I haven't brushed my teeth, I haven’t eaten all day, and neither of us have any idea where we’re actually headed! I swear we’ve been walking in circles in this godforsaken, monster-infested shithole!” 

    “Well we at least haven't had to fight any monsters…” Call murmured, too hungry to dispute any of Jasper’s discomforts, and too cynical to say something actually positive. If he went without eating today as well, that would bring him to a grand total of three days having not eaten anything at all. Seventy-two hours without having eaten a single thing.  Knowing vampires didn’t have to eat anything did little to staunch the painful ache in his stomach and even less to quell the physical reaction his body was going through. Anytime he got remotely close to Jasper his fangs would grow and ache in a way that made his stomach feel like it was devouring his other organs. It was absolute torture. “Don’t you have anything useful in that bag of yours? Tamara had a bunch of stuff in hers.”

    “I didn’t think we’d end up hiking through the Virginia wilds for days on end, so no I didn’t pack anything useful,” Jasper replied, halfheartedly tossing his knapsack at him.  

Call held the limp, sad bag open and eyed its contents distastefully; Jasper hadn’t been wrong. There were water bottles on top, which was good that Jasper had thought to bring those considering he needed them to actually continue living for the next few days. Underneath was his golden spear compacted into a polygon, a roll of gauze, and a wad of cash tied together with a fraying string. 

    “We could use this ,” Call said, smirking appreciatively whilst waving the cash in Jasper’s face.

Jasper swatted his hand away miserably.

    “It's not gonna fill my stomach now so it's useless.”

    “Don’t you know how to like, forage or something? Didn’t Mr. Lemuel teach you how to find edible mushrooms, or berries, or like, plants or something?”

Jasper’s eyes lit up, completely revived from his sulking. Call might as well have told him that there was a fast food restaurant fifteen minutes away with how hopeful he seemed to be at the idea of mushrooms. Call in particular didn’t find them to be that appetizing, but they were both starving. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. 

    “I actually picked and ate a few this morning, but I couldn’t tell if they were safe or not so I didn’t share,” Jasper said easily, as if his words were not concerning in any manner.  “You go find some more mushrooms, I’ll start the fire and watch Havoc.” 

    “You already ate some?! I couldn’t even tell ’cause you already sometimes act sort of loopy…” Call stared at him and then relaxed a bit. If Jasper wasn’t convulsing on the forest floor then that did mean that the mushrooms were safe to an extent. And hey, they kind of seemed to make him nicer and more tolerable. “Well whatever I guess.”

    Jasper laughed lightly and shook his head. “Just bring all the mushrooms you find back and you can eat the poison ones since it won’t affect you, and Havoc and I will eat the normal ones.”

Call felt as if they had switched mindsets: now Jasper was the one who was going crazy and he was the one who had to deal with it all.

    “Will do, just, uh, don’t move or go anywhere or anything, okay? You’re not actually losing it right? You understand what I’m saying?”

Jasper narrowed his eyes at him and sat back down again, crossing his arms. 

    “Of course not, I’m just acting like my normal human self and starving to death here. Don’t worry about me, Great Vampire Lord. Any mental degradation is just coming from the fact that human bodies require energy to work, and mine. Doesn’t. Have. Any .”

    “Aaron said you get mean when you’re nervous, but I’m adding to that statement and saying you also are mean when you’re hungry.”

    “We’re still not talking about him.” Jasper said, turning his nose upwards with finality.

    “O-kay then, you know you love him,” Call said, shrugging and smiling devilishly to himself. 

He only barely dodged the mud-ball Jasper threw at him. 

Being a mushroom hunter was not anywhere near as exciting, or as easy as it sounded. It turned out mushrooms didn’t want to grow easily in the middle of a very visible, open pasture. They could-- they most certainly could, but they chose not to. The mushrooms Call had found were crawling up the sides of threateningly-tall tree trunks, and underneath carcasses of decayed wood he never would have been able to lift without his inhuman capabilities. Some mushrooms he found had decided to pop up on the edge of a massive fire ant pile and he had gotten bit at least four times before being able to procure the pesky fungus. Thank goodness he couldn’t feel it through his dead skin, but he sure could see them gnawing their way through his hand like it was mince meat or something. He swore they only grew this big in the Amazon Forest, and so it was his duty as an upright citizen of Virginia to demolish this behemoth of an ant pile and then return to his friends.

Call was more than ready to do just that, his hellish flames at the ready, but then the earth trembled. Small rocks danced to the rhythm of the crackling land, and the ant pile stood no chance at withstanding the sheer force that rocked the earth. Call nearly lost balance himself, his feet unsteady on the suddenly untrustworthy ground. His mushroom pile had scattered itself into oblivion too, but he was no longer paying any attention to his hard-earned fungi, his attention was on the direction the shaking was coming from. He was no geographer, but it was impossible to deny the direction where the force had come from: Jasper’s makeshift camp. 

Without wasting another second, Call dashed forward, his mind focused on nothing more than returning to them in time. He crossed the distance in what felt like seconds despite having taken what felt like an hour to cross it walking. As he happened into the clearing, his eyes scoured the scene for an opportune place to strike. Jasper stood in front of Havoc heroically, his spear brandished while he took in large gulping breaths. Call couldn’t determine if he was injured or not, but his state clearly wasn’t ideal. Twisted oaks, and rotting cedar trees had somehow pulled themselves from their roots and taken on a cursed life of their own, moving to surround the boys with leering faces warped into their trunks. They must have been what had caused the “earthquake” earlier. 

Call dashed forward, dark magic swirling around his form in a robe of destruction; his broken ring had been long removed from his finger. In a single fell swoop, Call came down upon the tree closest to him, pulverizing the wood into nothing. When he looked at Jasper's face all he saw was fear, unmasked and raw. Terror rang in his eyes like a waking nightmare he couldn’t escape.

    “You-- your wings…” He opened and closed his mouth a few times before meeting his eyes. “You manifested your bat wings.”

    “You can go through all the shock you want later, what are these things? What's the easiest way to beat em’?”

    “H-human-face tree. They're an invasive species, extremely dangerous and,” Jasper sliced at an oncoming root and rolled a distance away as more chased his path. “And just freaking kill them with your magic! I don’t remember anything about them except that those red fruits are super dangerous!”

    Call hadn’t so much as looked at the red fruits when he had decided to go in for the kill. This was going to be an easy battle. Grinning, he met Jasper’s dark eyes with his flaming red ones.  “Done.”

Call opened his palm and stood completely still as magma and flame amassed into being in front of him. This- this was new, the thrill, the excitement of truly being in battle. The orbs of flame he had conjured flew in every direction, their pace slow, but their damage heavy. Call watched with sickly satisfact as the face of the tree burned straight through giving him a view of the forest behind that outlined their scenic battle. 

When Jasper danced around one of the flaming balls of destruction and gave him an incredulous look, Call could only laugh and shrug as he moved to his next tree.

    “That was Dark Inferno if you were wondering! Ecclesia had that one saved up for me, and no wonder!”

It was like he was in a completely different world when he released his magic. Life coursed through his dead veins and adrenaline poured into his system sending his mind and fingers into a frenzy of destructive spells that sent everything around him disintegrating into ash. His feet seemed to carry him to where the battle was thickest, and combat came to him like a dance only he could hear the tune to. The battlefield was his, and his alone. Trees would swat at him, roots would twist their way through his skin and into his very muscle, but he felt none of it. All he could taste was the allure of death on his tongue and fire at his feet. Nothing stood a chance against him, nothing ever could-- that was the power of Dracula. It was the power to encompass everything in a cold, chilling, and eternal death and it was his alone to wield. 

A yelp tore him from his reverie and Call looked up to see Jasper curling into himself like a dying insect. Being a vampire made him invincible, but Jasper was a human and Havoc a mortal dog. He had been so engulfed by his own power that he had nearly forgotten about them both. Easily, Call discarded the last remaining trees, and rushed to Jasper’s side, holding the shaking boy into his arms. His fangs immediately pricked at the smell of human blood.

    “M-my leg,” Jasper stuttered, pain and horror dulling the usual gleam in his eyes. Call looked down to examine the injury and winced himself. Threads of roots had gone through his foot, curling around to re enter his flesh near his shin and blossom into sickly red flowers. After seeing Call’s expression, Jasper tried to sit up and look at his leg himself, but Call pushed him down as gently as he could. 

    “Listen, I have healing magic--”

    “Why is the-the root going through--?” Jasper exclaimed, his eyes wide and rimmed red. “C- can you-”

Jasper fell limply into his arms, unconsciousness overtaking him and Call for once felt better for it. He wasn’t sure how many roots were stuck in his leg at the moment, but if it was enough to make Jasper faint it would probably take some serious magic to heal. Summoning the Alura Une, Call sat over Jasper’s leg and tried to concentrate. Healing magic was different than offensive magic as it took a bigger toll on his mind. He needed to focus and then… The edges of his vision darkened, threatening unconsciousness. When he blinked his eyes open again, the roots had crumbled and fallen away from Jasper’s skin and the wounds had clotted to an extent, but they were definitely still there and unhealed. Call stuck his hands out again and focused, yet this time he forced his eyes to remain open; no golden dust fell, no magic was being produced. That didn’t make any sense though, Dracula could never run out of magic. Master Rockmaple had said so, hadn’t he? 

It didn’t matter what that old dwarf-looking teacher had said, he needed to call Havoc and pick Jasper up and get out of this clearing soon. The smell of death lingered here, and where death was, darkness was bound to follow. They needed to get to civilization and fast. 

Call bent low to hoist Jasper into his arms, it was the only practical way to carry the other boy without jostling his leg, and whistled for Havoc to return from whatever hiding spot he had settled into. After a moment, his trusty wolf dog returned to his side, though he nosed him warily, as if he too was frightened by his owner’s appearance. Call would need to fix himself before Jasper woke up again if he didn’t want to walk into the nearest city looking like a complete crazy person. They were trying to lay as low as possible with the stuff going on at the moment.

Upon finding a small stream, Call set Jasper down and let Havoc take a drink while he attended to his appearance. The serenity of the moment was just enough to calm his still jumpy nerves and the glow of the stars seemed to twinkle in a gentle, familiar way. It vaguely reminded him of Aaron’s terrifying whip that gleamed with the light of the stars. If he was more sentimental, he might linger by the stream and stare at their reflections while reminiscing about the blonde, but he was tired, hungry, and Jasper needed an actual bed to lay down in. He didn’t have the energy to give a crap.

Lifting Jasper up once again, Call made quick eye contact with an alert Havoc and began running as fast as he could. He had crossed states in a single night before, the run through Ecclesia’s cursed, monster-infested forest should have been child’s play to him. But he didn’t want to pick up Jasper while he was conscious-- that was just weird and it violated boy-code . That meant Aaron had also violated… Well none of it mattered. With his enhanced eyesight, Call could already make out the faint glow of artificial light. They were very near to the edge of the forest.

Chapter Text

Rufus paced around his office restlessly before falling back into his worn, tufted swivel chair again and sighing. After Tamara had declared her findings on Alistair Hunt to the entirety of the council, Ecclesia had been in an uproar, and he had been under the intense scrutiny of the church once again for producing such a pupil. Graves wasn’t just displeased with him about Alistair either, he was also being persecuted for failing to protect Aaron from heretical magic. Luckily, the boy had recovered from his injuries, but for some unknown reason he would not relinquish the name of his assaulter. No, the reason was not unknown to him; Rufus knew who had casted such a spell on Aaron, he knew who Aaron was protecting. 

Callum Hunt, the newest student to attend Ecclesia, had most likely been the one to do it. Alistair steals Vampire Killer, and his son tries to take down a Belmont-- Rufus felt he shouldn’t be shocked at the connection between the two, yet he couldn't fathom why either would take to such actions. Alistair had been tormented by his memories for years now, he had become a ghost of the man he had so painstakingly become. Rufus had been certain of his distaste for the church after everything had transpired, but he hadn’t thought it would lead him to act so rashly. Alistair was one of the few that knew the truth of Constantine’s story, and after all that had occurred, he had seemed content on fleeing from the church for years, yet he had never decided to act until…Until Dracula’s true Heir decided to make a sudden appearance. 

Callum on the other hand, was a factor that he understood very little about. The boy was clearly a trained combatant considering the fact he had been able to survive so adeptly within the castle, but had deliberately chosen to feign his lack of ability in order to look non-threatening. That had changed drastically when Alistair had sent his belongings to Ecclesia, that was when Call’s true emotions had surfaced: he had looked downright horrified. His skin grew pale and his face gaunt, and he had taken to a nervous disposition in an effort to mask a hidden purpose perhaps, and by the next morning’s light, Aaron returned with nothing but injuries to show for having been gone the entire night. Callum had not returned at all, but Rufus had yet to bring notice to that particular issue. The church had chased after Alistair relentlessly in order to silence him oh so many years ago, and he would not condemn any to such a fate. Not even his worst enemy. 

So now Rufus sat. He sat and thought, a headache threatening to overtake the liters of coffee he had drank this morning to try and quell this very detrimental outcome. The question he was debating was simple theoretically: To act, or not to act? Yet, the answer to either brought about a myriad of different consequences both good and bad for every variable of the issue. At the end of his deliberation it always seemed that both answers were equally as bad as one another. He rubbed at his temples painfully. It would be criminal to abandon Alistair, his previous student, to the whims of Ecclesia, especially because he was not fully aware of Alistair’s intentions. However, Callum’s actions toward Aaron--

    “Uhm, excuse me, Master Rufus--” a short knock sounded outside his door before it was followed by harsh whispers and what sounded like a slap. “Master Rufus, I’m coming in.” Alex Strike said, opening the door in a rather demure way.

Demure? It was not typical for Alex to act in such a way, but perhaps he had been under severe amounts of stress himself. Callum Hunt, who was under his jurisdiction, had gone missing and who knew what his mother had been telling him about the once-missing whip. 

    “Yes Mr. Strike? How might I help you?” Rufus asked, his hand still pressed to his head. It seemed he would need to take his migraine medicine no matter the amount of coffee he had drank. 

    “I just, uh, are you okay?” Alex asked, peering at him with soft eyes and a concerned expression. 

    “I’ve been better, I’ll admit that Mr. Strike, but it is nothing for you to worry over. How can I help you?”

    “Oh, right,” the boy said, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. He seemed to catch himself in the midst of his habit and dropped it, falling into what looked like a more laid back standing position although his eyes seemed to shift nervously. “I was just… My mom called, and I’m going to be heading back home for a few weeks. I think she wants me to help in the search.”

Rufus raised a single bushy brow and regretted it almost immediately as his eyes began to pulse with pain. As soon as Alex was dismissed, he would get a hold of those pills. Anyhow, Ms. Tarquin was not a lady to be trifled with; it was likely Alex was not going to aid in the search at all, but Rufus wasn’t one to ask questions he knew he would not receive the answer to. The silver lady of Ecclesia’s council was not one to be tried. 

    “I see, I will notify your teachers. Farewell Alex, remember to take care of yourself amidst the chaos of life.”

The boy nodded his head eagerly as if he was hanging off of his every word, and Rufus himself rose as he nodded in something of a departing gesture. Alex swiftly turned on his heel, making his way for his office door before something dropped from his pocket in his haste. Rufus quickly swept down, retrieving the fallen paper and, by sheer happenstance, glancing at its contents.

    “Aaron--” Alex froze in the doorway. “Pardon me, Alex, Aaron has been on my mind as of late. You dropped something.”

Alex sped over to him, muttered thanks and practically snatched the paper from his hands before rushing out of his office as if his life depended on it. Rufus didn’t hold the boy any longer, his own pain-ridden mind pulsing for a moment. The note that had dropped from Alex’s pocket had contained coordinates written in Alistair Hunt’s hand. Rufus couldn’t mistake it, he had graded at least one hundred handwritten papers from the boy. Grabbing the nearest paper and pen he jotted down the coordinates he had glanced at, rather thankful for his photographic memory. 

Could the letter have something to do with why Alex was being called back? Was Ms. Tarquin using her son to identify Alistair’s whereabouts? Assuming would do little for Rufus, though the letter did help him decide one thing.

With this new piece of information, he no longer felt as indecisive as he had before. It was as if God himself had given him a sign, a sign indicating how he should answer his previous dilemma. And Rufus planned to do just that. 

    “Aaron!” Tamara whispered, standing at the door to Rufus’s office and grabbing his shoulder as he nearly toppled out. The potion recipe she had stolen from Master Milagros’s room had worked flawlessly, and transformed her best friend into what looked like Alex Strike. The real Alex had agreed to lay low until their escape, which allowed them just the right amount of time to get free of the school. The only real problem was that Aaron just happened to be a shabby actor when he was put on the spot.

    “He called me Aaron!” he said, slumping against the wall for a second to allow himself a chance to finally breathe. Tamara couldn’t help but giggle a little at his expense, before the reality of the situation sobered her quickly. 

    “You’ll have time to de-stress once we get in the car, Stebbins is waiting for us and the potion only lasts for eight hours. We need to get driving now so we can make it to the harbour before the day ends! You can’t forget that Call and Jasper are already ahead of us.” Tamara said urgently.

Aaron ran a hand through his now lengthened hair and nodded, rising to his full height. 

    “Let's go find them!”

Chapter Text

Call nearly collapsed into himself after buying their motel room and depositing Jasper on the nearest bed he could find. After that, he zipped by the nearest supermarket for fresh clothes, food, and a first aid kit. It was near midnight by the time he returned and apparently, he wasn’t the most gentle, or graceful runner because Jasper’s leg had taken to bleeding again. He tried at least ten more times to use his magic, but nothing would come. After the first few tries, he wasn’t even able to conjure the Alura Une anymore. Realizing magic wasn’t being exactly reliable at the moment, Call instead took to the older and more tried and true methods of stopping bleeding: pressure and band aids. 

He could easily put pressure on Jasper’s leg with his hands, but unfortunately, not even the largest bandaid in the first aid kit would be able to cover his wound fully. And, considering that he really didn’t have the first idea about anything medical related, he opted to use the bed sheets as makeshift ‘gauze’ once he had gotten the blood flow to slow. That was obviously a good idea, and if they left in a hurry, hopefully the owners wouldn’t notice that one of their sheet-sets were missing. 

After he was positive Jasper wasn’t going to bleed to death and that Havoc had gotten himself mostly situated in the covers next to Jasper, Call tore off his clothes and made a beeline toward the bathroom. His Ecclesia uniform was practically in brown and black shreds from the mix of blood and dirt that had been caked onto the thin, unprotective surface, yet his skin still looked as pale and eerily smooth as it always was. His eyes were not red as they usually were, now they seemed to be devoid of any colour, only showing shards of silver underneath their now shadowy, black surface. Despite his ring being off, he looked mostly human aside from his deathly white complexion. It was kind of comforting. 

Tearing his eyes from the mirror, Call finally made his way to the shower, fiddled with the knobs until he managed to get the temperature just right, and stepped in, allowing the water to just fall over him as he breathed. He didn’t need to of course, but the action was calming and familiar. He couldn’t afford comfort and familiarity all that often anymore, aside from Jasper that was, which made the few moments he could afford it precious. For a second he watched all the blood and dirt swirl about the drain before disappearing. He wished all the impurities in his life would disappear like that; he wished Joseph would just poof away that easily. And for Alistair he wished…

Sighing, Call grabbed at the bar of soap that had been there and began scrubbing roughly at his skin and then his hair, suddenly desperate to be free of the shower. He didn’t want to think anymore, he didn’t want to be awake. He just wanted to sleep, that was it. After rinsing himself clean of soap and dirt, he toweled himself carelessly and threw his fresh clothes on, thankful for the warmth his dead body could no longer generate. 

Before walking out, he felt his foot step on something-- something hard and sharp tucked away in his somehow not destroyed blazer pocket and hidden from sight. Reaching down into his old uniform pocket, Call pulled his broken ring along with both letters he had received from Alistair. One he knew read about his father’s intention to kill him; the other letter, well, he had been holding back on reading it, but what better chance did he have then now? Might as well read the lies he penned and cling onto them like the fool he wished he wasn’t.

Tearing open the envelope, he settled with his legs crossed and back to the door, the paper cradled in his lap as if it was something precious. The smell of Alistair hit him once more, nostalgia blinding his tired mind for a moment before he took to focusing on the words his dad had wanted to share with him. 

    Callum,

I’m glad you arrived safely at Ecclesia. I’ve been thinking of you everyday since you’ve left. We’ve both got our things to complete, but never forget to call back home sometimes. I’m always waiting with open arms. I’ll love you always. 

From, Dad

P.S. I included one of those rings you like plus some cash. Don’t spend too much.

Call shamefully wiped at his eyes and took a second glance inside the envelope. Alistair had sent another wad of cash, and wedged in between the bills was another ruby ring, just the same as the crushed one he had been holding onto. It didn’t have the fancy metal swirls around the gem like his original ring had, but it still glowed with magic and as soon as Call slipped it on his finger he noticed the difference: his appearance had been reverted back. He had his silver eyes, and healthy skin.

Why Alistair had sent the ring was completely lost on him. Perhaps so he could bury his body and pretend it had actually been his real son instead of some cursed, vampiric monster? Then he could pretend like this entire mess had never happened. That made the most sense, if he was to find any at all within the lie that was their relationship. 

“Hey do we have any painkillers, or anything?” Jasper asked before Call had even fully opened the bathroom door to let himself out. The other boy’s face was blotchy in colour, with some of the skin around his eyes and cheeks flushed red. It looked like maybe he had been crying, but Call didn’t have the heart to mention it. Not when he was lucky enough not to feel anything anymore. Not when he could have had the power to have saved Jasper be it through healing or just protecting him better like a real friend might do.

“Yeah, I got some,” Call muttered, reaching into one of the discarded grocery bags and rummaging through it. Once he had gotten some pills and one of Jasper’s water bottles, he brought them over silently. “How are you… How are you holding up?”

Jasper gave him a sharp look and proceeded to drink down the pills like his life depended on it, and Call tried not to think too hard about his lack of being able to help him. He felt completely useless, but really it was inevitable that something like this had happened. He had been injuring people left and right and healing them afterwards as a quick fix for his thoughtless errors, and now he couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t do anything but watch his friend suffer from an injury he was completely capable of preventing.

    “I mean, my leg hurts, but it's… Whatever I guess,” Jasper shifted a little and then physically jolted as his leg moved just a bit, his dark eyes narrowing in unbridled pain. Call watched him that same moment, feeling his own pain just as intently. It was the pain of a bystander, the pain of being able to do nothing. “I’m still--”

    “I’m sorry,” Call blurted, turning his back to the boy. He couldn’t bear to look into his pain ridden eyes, or his reddened cheeks.

“What?” 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t-” Call bit back the cliche phrase he had been about to spew, and turned just enough that he could glance at Jasper’s expression. A thousand replacements ran through his mind, yet none of them were enough-- none of them came close to encapsulating his true feelings. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I’m sorry I can't heal you. I’m sorry I dragged you into all of this in the first place.” 

Call spun fully around this time, gazing straight at Jasper’s leg, his throat choked with an emotion he had yet to put a name to. 

“I’m sorry for getting you kicked out of Ecclesia, I’m sorry I’m taking you on a mission I don’t even know that I’ll come back from. I’m sorry I--”

    “Call,” Jasper said, yanking the front of his shirt down so they were forced to make eye contact. Call could feel the warmth from Jasper’s skin through his thin t-shirt, he could feel the tickle of his breath, the thud of his heart. Jasper was so  distinctly alive, and Call clung to his life; he clung to him… Even to Jasper’s own detriment. “I chose to come with you myself, idiot . I chose to go with you even after hearing your stupid ideas, even when you told me you were Dracula.”

    “But--”

    “Where would you be without me anyway? Probably still stuck in Ecclesia wondering where the Forbidden Library is, and you would be none the wiser. I am a central part of this plan, and I’m staying even if you don’t want me.”

Jasper smiled roguishly and let go of his shirt choosing instead to knock him in the head, far too pleased with himself. Call felt some tension ease away from his shoulders and let a small smile slip onto his face. Jasper did that to him. He was annoying, a complete loud mouth, and definitely a bigheaded idiot when it came down to it, but he made him feel safe. And currently in Call’s life, there wasn’t a single other person who made him feel that way. 

He had never thought of the other boy that way before.

    “I mean, I guess you can take credit for that…” Call rubbed at his chin and pretended to think before flicking Jasper’s forehead much to the other boy’s chagrin. “But I get the credit for getting us to the motel.”

    “Yeah sure, but I also get points for being the brain, the moral support, the money, the handsome one,” Jasper nodded to himself as if he was content with his answer and then scrunched up his nose. “But, seriously, why this motel? And only one bed? I had like two hundred bucks in that bag!”

Call turned away, shaking his head as he once again reached in one of the grocery bags for the bread and cheese he had bought earlier. That was right, the only edible thing he had bought from the supermarket had been a loaf of bread and a bag of cheese slices. Looking at them now, they did look measly and cheap, but they were on an extremely tight budget.

    “Listen, between the two of us we’ve got like 200 bucks-- that is subtracting the motel fee and the cost of all the groceries. If I had got a room with two beds we would have been at like 150,” Call began slapping together bread and cheese slices before making his way to sit beside Jasper on the bed. He had never guessed he would be the one explaining things to Jasper, but he had been the only one to see the boat fares when he was rushing out of the market. “If we can manage to pass for 13 year olds, the boat fare will cost 140, but we’re gonna wanna eat an actual breakfast before we go to get Vampire Killer so I just thought it was best to save some extra cash and just suck it up.”

Jasper bit into the cold cheese sandwich rather aggressively, and made some rich boy mannerism that consisted of twisting his wrist at an odd angle whilst jutting his chin out. Did he even know what on a budget meant? Or was it the cold cheese bread sandwiches? Call honestly didn’t like them that much either. 

    “So by suck it up, you mean sleep in the same bed?” Jasper asked, his ears colouring a suspicious shade of red. 

    “Don’t make it weird,” Call said, getting an encouraging yap from Havoc who was currently wolfing down his own cheese sandwich. 

Jasper grumbled something under his breath and shook his head while motioning for another sandwich with a demanding hand. They sat relatively silently while they proceeded to devour the entire loaf and bag of cheese, and once their stomachs were full and happy, Call fell into place beside Jasper. He felt warm and satisfied and near ready to take on the whole world; it was almost funny how different he had felt just a few hours ago in the shower. It was funny how one affirmation from Jasper of all people could make him feel that way. 

    “You know, Aaron and I slept together in the castle and it was fine,” Call murmured thoughtlessly. He was just talking to keep the silence at bay. “Speaking of them… You don’t think they would have been able to leave Ecclesia, right? I mean Tamara did have to go back and tell all of my business to the council.”

Jasper was silent long enough for Call to think he had already fallen asleep, but a sudden sigh made him realize he was just taking his time as per usual. Call shifted to run into his direction and Havoc’s fur. The wolf had made a spot for himself between them and had taken to snoring softly through his nose for a while now.

    “There's no way those two would be able to escape out of Ecclesia twice . It's just impossible.”

Call nodded agreeably even though he was pretty sure Jasper couldn’t see his gestures in the darkness anyway. They wouldn’t have to worry about them until they made it back to school and that in itself was a blessing. 

Chapter Text

It was near seven in the morning when Jasper pulled him away from his very, very short sleep and practically  forced him to get ready for the morning. Despite the heaviness in his limbs and the fog that clouded his mind, he knew their ship departed in the wee, early hours of the morning. That didn’t make ten o’clock any more bearable, or even any better really, but at least it meant the sun wouldn’t be shining straight down on his head. He would be able to enjoy that later in the afternoon. 

Once they finished dressing and confirming the coordinates on Alistair’s note, they made their way to a quick grab and go diner and headed to the coast. Apparently, everyone else and their mother had decided to wake up before the sun, which was sacrilegious in itself, and stand in line to buy last minute tickets for a trip that was less than four hours away. Who would have guessed Nova Scotia was a popular place to visit at the beginning of the school year?

    “We’re gonna be standing here for the next couple hours,” Call muttered, ripping into his cream cheese bagel. The cheese tasted so tart and perfect with the lightly dense bread and he didn’t really know if bagels had always tasted this good, or if he just had forgotten to appreciate them all those times before. Look at him being thankful and modest. This trip had turned him into a vampire saint-- too bad that wasn’t good enough for Alistair. “Think your leg will hold up? Want me to grab the painkillers?”

    “No,” Jasper said, his eyes turned toward the sea and his lips pursed. If they hadn’t been getting ready to board a ship and sail towards Alistair and Joseph’s hideout, a place that probably had a really good chance of being their potential burial chamber for the rest of eternity, he might have been enjoying the salty sea breeze. Or maybe he might have laughed, made a joke, looked toward a picturesque blue sky and smiled. Part of him wanted to try all of those things out and see if it made the twisting in his stomach feel any better, but he didn’t want to accidentally weird Jasper out. 

They stood in line until it felt like the sun had almost properly melted his brains out and when they reached the ticket lady she looked even worse off than Call. That was pretty impressive all on its own. As Jasper pulled out the money and began to speak to the woman, something flickered in Call’s mind. His first thought was that it was Vampire Killer’s presence, but it wasn’t that-- his reaction would have been stronger. It was something else, something different, something… Call looked back at the crowds of people mulling about and almost shrivelled when he caught sight of a familiar pair of swinging braids and a tall blonde beside her. 

They wore normal clothes and blended in rather naturally, but Call could pick out the last remaining Belmont and Belnades anywhere and that folks was the calamity walking straight towards them. Havoc’s ears pricked forward with familiarity. 

    “Jasper!” Call whisper exclaimed, pulling on the back of his shirt and sinking down to his knees to hold onto the dog’s scruff. The ticket lady watched him oddly, and Jasper himself looked like he was on the verge of rolling his eyes. “They're here! They’re really close!!!”

    “Who--” Jasper started, but upon turning around to look at Call he apparently caught sight of the two and snatched the offered tickets from the lady’s hands. “When did they--? How ?”

Without answering, Call pulled a souvenir hat from the women’s stall and rushed them both toward the ship, boarding it in enough hurry to hide their faces and stall Havoc’s excitement. 

    “Listen, even though they somehow made it here they don’t know that they need to board the ship because they don’t have our coordinates. They must have made it here by accident!” Call pulled Jasper through the crowds of people bumbling about on the dock of the large ferry and made his way to the rails. “As long as they don’t see us here, we’re safe.”

Jasper leaned on the rail heavily, his face pale and clammy. Call knew his leg was paining him without even having to ask. If somehow Aaron and Tamara did end up on the ship pursuing them, neither of them would be able to escape. 

    “Let’s head back to our rooms.” Jasper suggested, frowning. “We can sleep until they serve dinner.”

Call nodded without any reason for dissent. Being out in the sun had made him grouchy and tired himself, and the rocking of the sea did little to calm his fraying nerves. He felt like his bagel was on the verge of coming up and they had only just boarded the ship. 

After dodging through what seemed like a sea of sweaty, overheated human bodies they were finally able to make it to their singular tiny room-- it was really more of an oversized cubicle with how small it really was: a tiny cubicle with an even tinier cubicle attached and called a bathroom. Thank goodness they were only spending one night on this ship, but at least they could boast having a bed. He felt like he hadn’t slept on a fluffy, soft comforter in years . 

He couldn't imagine what Jasper was thinking about their current living arrangement. Surprisingly enough though, Jasper voiced none of the complaints Call had expected of him- perhaps a testament to his ailing health -instead he simply collapsed on the tiny square mattress which took up the majority of the room’s floor space and fell instantly asleep. Call tried to not take it as a bad sign. Havoc leapt up beside the boy and cuddled up to his side like a makeshift pillow. 

Call had been keen on getting some shut eye himself, but as the boat began its descent into the wide ocean he felt his stomach churn more. This wasn’t mere nervousness; he was beginning to feel extremely nauseous as the boat continued to rock back and forth. His bagel did end up coming up, and it had chosen to come up right as he was beginning to drift into his first stage of sleep, leaving him with no sign of invigoration and a lot of queasiness. Who would have known he got motion sickness? He had been completely fine on Alex’s plane. 

After spending a few extra moments in the bathroom to ensure his stomach was done heaving its contents, he made his way to the edge of their tiny bed to try and rest. He may not have a chance to sleep but the least he could do was try and relax.

Call’s rest was brief, almost disappointing really. He felt like he had dozed for an inconsequential two minutes and had awoken to a sharp ray of orange sunlight piercing through the small, lonesome window on their wall. Part of him wanted to try and get some more rest for the night, but his stomach pulled in a way that made rest impossible. He would be better off on the docks getting some fresh air than ruining Jasper’s sleep with all his gagging. So with a fond pat on Havoc’s head, he made his way out of the cramped square they called a room and onto the docks. 

Unlike earlier, the docks were devoid of almost any people which was most definitely a welcome change from earlier. He seemed to have woken up too late to receive the dinner they had paid for, but it seemed the perfect time of day to be awake for him. The sun was still bright enough to illuminate the sky, but it was only the last tendrils of gold that remained, outlining the purple and pinks. Now, with a picturesque sky above him, he could at last heave up his guts without an audience.

Just making his way to the rail from the opposite side of the docks felt like an eternity, but it felt so worth it once he was able to expel some excess saliva and bile his stomach seemed desperate to expunge. Wiping his mouth on his sleeve, Call rested his seemingly heated forehead on the rail. Wasn’t being a vampire supposed to protect him from stuff like this?

    “You don’t look too good, you hanging on alright?” a voice beside him asked, soft and pleasant. 

    “I think my gallbladder’s gonna make some fishes’ dinner, but that aside, yeah, I’m good.” Call didn’t have the strength to glance at the kind passerby. “Thanks.”

The person chuckled a little at his comment, and seemed to step a bit closer for a reason Call had yet to determine. 

    “Long time no see Call. You really gave us a run for our money back there.”

Hysterics. That was the first thing his mind thought about descending into, then he miraculously lifted his head and made eye contact with none other than Aaron Belmont-- the goddamn bane of his entire freaking life and his mind decided that hysterics was too much for him right now. He afterall was sick, so obviously threats were a much safer route to take. Obviously . 

    “Walk one step closer to me and I’ll set the entire ship on fire.” Call said in a single breath, staring at Aaron wildly. He wore an embarrassingly out of place fishing hat, with a black tank top and khaki shorts. A perfectly normal outfit and most likely the reason why Call hadn’t noticed him earlier-- that and his nausea. This was going to be the end of the line for them if he didn’t do something fast. What he was supposed to do was just nearly dawning on him…

    “ What ?” The blonde’s jaw nearly dropped. 

Sensing that Tamara was nowhere in the vicinity, Call could only assume she went after Jasper, or maybe that Aaron hadn’t planned to- kidnap? kill? court martial? - him here. Maybe it had been one big accident and Jasper was still safe, but he didn’t know how long he could be comforted by that thought. If Aaron and Tamara had accidentally made their way onto this ferry, who could say how far they could get with just Lady Luck leading them? 

Ignoring his immense desire to take another heave over the side of the ferry, Call glanced at Aaron and made a mad dash towards the nearest ladder conveniently hanging on a nearby wall. In his sickened craze it seemed the smarter route to take rather than returning to his room and straight to Jasper. Then they would both be exposed. 

    “Call-- hey! Stop!” Without turning back, Call could hear the sound of Aaron’s sandals smacking across the deck. Of course he would choose to pursue. Had Call jinxed this encounter just a few hours earlier? “Why do you always run everytime I talk to you--?”

Call didn’t stop, he kept climbing. Every ladder he saw was just an escape to a place even further away from Aaron which was exactly what he needed at the moment. His mind almost felt as if it was on autopilot with how much haste he was in, that was until he made it to the uppermost level. Surrounded by multiple antennas and other nameless technological devices also left him with a dangerous revelation: there were no more ladders. He was stuck out here. The only place he could leap to was a lower deck, or the sea. Both of which were not on his list of potential places he was okay with dying at. 

Aaron arrived only a few seconds after he realized his own mistake, looking completely unfazed and a little pissed. That was not a good sign for him. 

 “Why are you so bad at confrontations, Call? Why can’t you just be straight with me? If you’re not guilty you have nothing to be afraid of!”

Call looked behind himself as he stepped backward, careful of his footing. It was almost painful how ignorant Aaron was of the circumstances. If he was able to openly tell him that he was Dracula he would have, but the thing was they were fated to kill each other. Aaron had been accepted by Ecclesia for that very purpose: so that he could be raised to literally end Call’s very existence. How could he even begin to think about telling him?

“You don’t understand anything,” Call whispered, his voice almost unheard in the cold wind that whipped around them. “If you could have just minded your business, maybe if you had just stayed in Ecclesia--”

“You think I could have just stayed at school when my friends were in trouble? You think we would just turn a blind eye to you guys when you’re so obviously in need of help?”

As if on cue with his words, Jasper’s head appeared above the ladder and as he made his way onto the roof of the ferry. Tamara could be seen right behind him, her eyes dark. Call felt stinging acid claw its way back up his throat and choke him hatefully silent. He could deal with Aaron, but he didn’t think he could rationally deal with someone as deceitful and traitorous as her . 

    “Call, listen,” Tamara began, her hand barely ghosting Jasper’s shoulder. She took a hesitant step towards him and Call felt himself step back in anticipation; he could glance all the way to the lowest dock with how close he was to the edge now. 

    “Like how you listened to me about my dad?” Call questioned accusingly, his teeth bared. He had been able to somewhat maintain a facade of tranquility up until this moment, but her entrance sent him over the edge of sanity. Even despite his sickness, his anger burned stronger, as if his emotions were an endless fuel to a never ending conflagration. “You should take your own advice, Tamara .” 

Call could tell his words struck her, for despite her proud nature she faltered for a second, her eyes downcast and chin lowered. Jasper stood beside her similarly, his face turned downwards to watch his shoes. He no longer stood favouring one foot over the other, meaning that Tamara must have healed him, but her single good deed did little to lighten the burden of her crimes. He didn’t know what Tamara had said to Jasper, but he did know that she must have somehow guilt-tripped him into silence, or perhaps it was just that Jasper was weighed down by his own personal guilt over what had happened. Either way his silence didn’t make Call’s battle any easier. 

“Why are you always running Call?” Aaron asked, his voice cracking slightly and expression exasperated. He ran a hand through his hair tiredly as if he had been the one running circles around all the different people who were trying to kill him. “Just be honest with us. Neither Tamara nor I want to hurt you or your dad. If we can fix this mess we’ll try. You just have to reach out to us first--”

“Funny you didn't say this whole sappy speech earlier,” Call quipped. “You know, back when it actually could have made a difference?”

“Fly.” Jasper said, suddenly his eyes alarmingly wide. Call knew he was staring straight into his eyes when he spoke, a sudden plea from who knew where breaking past his lips. “It's the only way.”

Tamara placed a hand on her hip.

    “What are you saying Jasper?”

    “You’ve done it before,” Jasper encouraged, stepping forward past Aaron who had remained silent. The blonde’s brows were furrowed, as if he was solving some great moral quandary, but Call was more focused on understanding what Jasper was saying. “Go without me. you don't need me anyway. You have the power to save your dad.”

Call was barely able to stutter an angry “no” before Jasper rushed forward and shoved him hard off the top of the ship. He vaguely watched as both Aaron and Tamara moved in slow motion toward him. Aaron’s hand was specifically close to the front of his t-shirt, but before he knew it time had resumed and he was falling, the boy’s hand just falling short. 

It was terrifying just allowing himself to fall, allowing the wind to push against his dead skin and remind him of similar memories when he had jumped from the attic of Jasper’s home-- only if he wasn’t able to expend his wings here he would most likely never be falling again, ever. But that wasn’t the case because he could use his wings now, he had done so back in the forest just days earlier. All he needed to do this time was fully transform. He was in full capacity of Dracula’s power all he had to do was use it. 

Squeezing his eyes shut, Call flapped his arms around him crazily, hoping to catch the air with his paper-thin bat wings but nothing changed with his desperation. Transforming was a different sort of magic; it wasn't brutish and volatile like offensive magic was, it was a more natural transition-- one that often occurred out of necessity. Breathing through his nose, Call simply allowed himself to be, to fall, to drink in the wind and toss his human fears to the skies. It was that simple.

He swooped low near the lowest deck of the boat, and fluttered back toward the clouds, the cold rushing against his now tiny form. He heard something of a muffled shriek from below him, but he didn’t turn back. He couldn’t, not anymore. Not after he was sure both Aaron and Tamara knew his secret. Not after he just willingly abandoned Jasper.

Jasper shuffled a bit attempting to regain his footing and calm the pounding of his heart. Nearly pushing Call to his death was one thing, but the contortion of both Tamara and Aaron’s faces was something entirely else to behold. Fear, disbelief, anger; all of those emotions were just memories. It was as if betrayal itself had carved dark shapes into their faces, marring their youth and disfiguring their trust. 

It should have never happened like this. 

That was his first thought. The two of them were sure to go full-out vampire hunter hell on Call and probably send him to the nearest country that public execution was still legal in so they could hang him in the gallows for aiding and abetting, which was something he still wasn’t exactly ashamed of, but boy would he lie to save his life--

    “What…” Aaron took a long breath through his mouth, whatever emotion he currently felt became suddenly well hidden by a stern look. Instead he reached to grip Jasper’s shoulder rather tightly. “Normal vampires can’t fly in the sun even if it's sunset. What is he ?”

Tamara’s eye widened at the implication of his statement, and she quickly turned her gaze back to the darkening horizon as if she could still catch Call flitting away on the sunset.  

    “Well, you see,” Jasper began, a thousand lies on the edge of his tongue. “There's this sunscreen, I mean there's this jewelry. Wait, actually no, it's not jewelry more like magic-jewelry-sunscreen--”

    “He’s Dracula isn’t he? That's how… That's why… ” Aaron turned away from them both, his voice fully breaking as understanding dawned on his face. With that single fact, Jasper could imagine how easily all the remaining details fell into place. Of how heavy all of Call’s statements seemed to weigh with that little bit of extra knowledge. It was almost silly how big an impact such a small statement could carry.

    “But, then, Drew,” Tamara began, finally looking back towards Aaron and Jasper. “It was Call that…?”

    “Call didn’t have anything to do with Drew’s death. That was all Joseph.” Jasper said definitively, furrowing his own brows. “Look, I know you guys think that we're up to some really bad shit, but the only reason why Call’s dad has Vampire Killer is so he can kill Call. And the only reason Joseph is there is so he can… Well, I don’t really know why Joseph is there, but Call just wants to take Vampire Killer back from his dad and put it in the right hands. He’s just a victim. A stupid one, but a victim nonetheless.”

    “How does being Dracula make him a victim? How did he even become Dracula in the first place? The original heir was Drew and it was only when Drew died that Call finally came to power. He’s got you wrapped around his finger, Jasper!” Tamara exclaimed, her lips permanently pulled into a frown. 

    “He didn’t want to be Dracula, Tamara.” Jasper argued, glaring. “Call didn’t go to the castle because he wanted to. His crazy dad sent him there or something. Apparently he’s never loved Call at all and has been waiting to kill him since the beginning.”

    “That doesn’t mean we can trust him though. I’m sorry but this story still seems impossible to comprehend. The only way we can know the truth is by--”

    “Going there ourselves.” Aaron finished, his jaw tight and fists clenched. If Jasper had been hoping for one positive outcome after Call’s secret had been revealed, it had been with Aaron. He had secretly hoped that dumb, trusting Aaron would be the one to brush everything off, but seeing the blonde’s initial reaction didn’t bode well for Call’s future. If anything, Call would be better off flying away on the sunset forever.

Chapter Text

When Call blinked open his eyes he had returned to Constantine’s old room back inside the castle. Unlike when he had seen it first, this version of the room was magnificent. Impressive mahogany bookshelves stood upright, golden candelabras burned brightly illuminating the room in a flickering haze. Long crimson curtains were drawn about the windows, resembling dripping blood in the low light. The most striking of all was the stained glass window which bore no curtains at all. When Call had seen it last, the window had been shattered into pieces, but now the archangel Uriel stood proudly carved into the glass standing hopefully as if he was to protect a future that had yet to come. In one hand he clasped his mighty sword depicted by shards of amethyst and cerulean glass; the rest of the stained glass glowed crimson, foreboding and beautiful all at the same time. Bright red light poured through the window, displaying the slight, bent figure hidden in the nook of a large tufted chair. Call almost hadn't noticed him with how diminutive the figure was-- how pathetic.

The man was muttering something, his voice low. Sometimes the volume of his tone would increase, raspy as it was, and form something of a wheezing laugh and then it would shrivel again, his ramblings nonsensical and fleeting. 

A tall, severe man entered the room then, through a mighty oaken door, and Call immediately recognized him as Joseph. He was dressed in black robes that billowed about his feet like encroaching storm clouds. In his hand was a goblet made of pure crystal that reflected the brilliant red in shattered figments of broken light. One shone across the broken man’s face and he crumpled into himself further, groaning. 

Call sucked in a shivering breath as he realized who it was that sat in the chair just a few paces away. The blonde-silver hair and pearlescent eyes were unmistakable-- he was staring at Constantine Madden. He was staring at a man flensed his own bearings, of emotion, of his very life. This Constantine had no charm, no charisma; it was like he was staring at a reanimated corpse.

“Come you must drink,” Joseph prompted, pushing the goblet toward him. Constantine stumbled to his feet, and then in a drunken daze swatted at the glass with enough force to send it crashing to the floor. Blood pooled everywhere, wasted. Joseph made no motion; he stood as still as stone, only watching him. 

Suddenly unbalanced, Constantine held onto the arm of the chair to keep himself upright, breathing heavily as if standing alone caused him the pain of the world. Even from standing so far away, Call could see him shaking. With every breath he took it was as if the world laid another burden for him to carry, as if he died a little bit more, second by second. It pained Call to even look at him. 

Constantine’s shirt slipped off his shoulders, revealing a skeletal ribcage covered only by purple and black skin. He was bruised and mottled, starving and feeble. It had only been a few memories back when Call had seen him standing at his strongest. What had happened between those two memories to have torn apart the man everyone had once regarded as the greatest Dracula of all time?

“A-Alistair,” Constantine rasped, sinking back into the chair, twitching. “Alistair will finish this. H-he’ll finish it all-- he deserves it.” 

He coughed then, crimson blood spurting from his lips like ink did a faulty pen. Joseph leaned down to wipe his chin delicately, but Constantine didn’t even seem to notice he was standing before him. 

“An-and Jericho, I’ll get to see Jericho again…” He smiled then, showing off a pair of blunt, human teeth; the Constantine he was seeing was completely human. “We’ll get to be together again finally… I-I-I missed him so much.”

After he finished wiping his face, Joseph tutted him lightly, tossing the dirtied rag to the floor. He smiled in a gentle way, as if he was talking to a young child. 

“Ah, but my lord, you cannot forget Project Dominus. You’ve desecrated your immortal body in order to attain true immortality. You’ve killed two innocent children, you’ve killed your own friends. You must carry on now, or else their deaths will be for nothing.”

Constantine’s gaze focused then, horror clouding the glinting silver, but it wasn’t just horror-- it was guilt. Tears glittered in his eyes, remorse falling over his already gaunt face like a funeral pall. He sputtered, wet rivulets revealing streaks of unscarred skin on his face. He didn’t seem capable of speaking at that moment, the words were stuck in his throat.

“When I return, the first thing I’ll do is…” Constantine’s voice wavered then, words abandoning him as he took to hacking into his hand. Joseph stood beside him silently as if he didn’t care at all. “When I return, the first thing I will do is en-end this. I’ll end it all.”

Constantine stared at Joseph, his eyes devoid of emotion and light, his words lacking any real threat. Really, his statement wasn’t like the usual things he said. Constantine had a penchant for drama, for theatrics; he had a way of turning even the simplest of problems into an advantageous ploy. Now he was nothing. His words meant nothing. And Call only felt a surge of pity for a man he never knew. 

Suddenly awakened, Call pushed himself from his position, sprawled upon the sand and glanced about his surroundings with a newfound wariness. He had been flying for almost the entire night and somewhat crash landed onto what he was assuming the location of the coordinates was. That meant Alistair and Joseph could be prowling around somewhere. He knew they wouldn’t attack him in a straightforward way-- they wouldn’t have a chance now that he had acquired his full powers, they would probably be trying to out-stealth him right about now. And standing like an idiot on the coast was probably not the best place for cover. 

Wiping the damp sand from his cheek and clothes, Call turned toward the mountainous rock that lay before him. From up above, this miscellaneous little island had looked like nothing more than a lump of rocks, trees, and a little sand, but up close he felt as if he had just fallen into the state of Colorado with how many mountains he was counting.

What would Jasper do in a situation like this? Aaron? He had no idea how he was supposed to find Alistair and Joseph on an island this vast. There was no technology to access, no map. He would have to do things the old fashioned way and just start walking. 

Jasper stretched his arms wide, Havoc still snuggled by his side completely unaware of the fact that his master had literally flown away that very night. Kudos to Jasper for being the one that pushed him off. A sharp knock on the door pulled him from his thoughts. 

“Jasper? Come on, we’re heading out.” Aaron said shortly, without even looking inside at him. It was a pretty cold greeting coming from him.

After explaining the entire situation in two completely different ways so that he ensured both Aaron and Tamara could comprehend the breadth of it all, at least as much as he understood with Call’s awful way of communicating, both had ushered him off to bed as if he had exhausted himself by just speaking for a few minutes. Believe it or not, one potion had been enough to heal his injury and replenish his energy. Despite the fact that everything was going awry, Jasper felt decently confident about the entire ordeal. 

Call probably would have already offed Joseph and subdued his dad by the time they got to the island. Then all he needed to do was, well, somehow amend his relationship with Goldilocks and the big bad bear and call it a day. Call was stupid, but persistent. If anyone could do it, Jasper was sure it would be him. 

Hopping off his bed, Jasper carefully tied his sneakers and whistled for Havoc to follow. Unsurprisingly, Havoc leapt to his side, cheerful as ever. Living with Call for a month had taught him a few things. And made Havoc like him a bit more. The latter was definitely more evident. 

By the time he made it out onto the dock both Tamara, Aaron, and a crew of burly looking white-suited men stood about, talking distinctly about something Jasper wasn’t sure he wanted to know. 

“You guys sure look like you’re having an easy time of it all,” Jasper said by way of a greeting as he watched one of the men undo a heavy metal hook on something which resulted in a loud splash of water. “What exactly is going on here?”

Tamara eyed him pleasantly for a moment before glancing back to Aaron and allowing her lips to thin. Apparently if one of them was mad, both of them were going to be mad, but that wasn’t going to slow Jasper down from being an absolute menace. It was currently his number one goal to stall them enough so that he could buy Call time to deal with Alistair and Joseph as he saw fit. Murder probably wasn’t the first thing on anyone’s minds, but boy did Joseph have it coming for him sometime.  

“We were just preparing to set sail to the hidden island,” Tamara explained, motioning towards the men. “My dad owns this line of ferries so I pretty much have access to anything I request.”

Jasper raised his hand to his chin and glanced up to the sky. It was finally his turn to interrogate the two on their happenings after being treated like a criminal. Though, to be fair he wasn’t exactly innocent. He still did have to apologise to them about the whole heretical magic fiasco, but it didn’t really feel like the right time.

“Oh, that's convenient. And how exactly did you two get out of Ecclesia again?”

“I lied and said my parents wanted me home.” Tamara said succinctly, still watching the men work. “And I snooped into Master Milagros’s potion book and found a potion to turn Aaron into Alex. Then it was all just legwork from there.”

“Convenient… Very convenient.” Jasper observed, unable to keep the distaste out of his voice. “And you found us and that island’s coordinates how?”

“Call dropped a letter recording the coordinates and Alex just happened to pick it up and put it in the right hands.” Tamara explained, nearing the rail of the boat. “And would you stop with the interrogation? The only reason it was allowed for me and Aaron last night was because you had to explain why you were working with the next Dracula.”

“Whatever. You can defend your double standards as much as you want, but that doesn’t change what they are: double standards.”

Tamara’s eyebrow twitched with what he assumed was annoyance and she flicked one of her braids over her shoulder to further emphasize her mood. 

“Just so you know, you’re not off the hook yet either, Jasper . Neither of us really know what to do about Call being Dracula, but that doesn’t mean we’re just gonna let it slide either.” 

“Let's go,” Aaron prompted suddenly. It was the first thing he had said since knocking on Jasper’s door. The jealous, spiteful part of Jasper wanted to harass the blonde since he already seemed on edge and because he almost never got an opportunity like this, but the other half of him, the sensible, charming part, told him to stay put. He was representing Call who was currently the bane of everyones’ existence, and he needed to win them over. Not even just for Call really, also because he might have made an irreversible mistake himself.

“Wait, we’re technically going into a different country and I don’t have my passport so it would be a legal crime if I, or either of you if you’re in the same boat , went on this actual small boat--”

“We’re going.” Aaron said, swooping Havoc up in one smooth motion. After that he hopped the rail easily, like the cool hero Jasper definitely wasn’t aspiring to be, and landed in the small rowboat down below. 

“So do we get a ladder or something…?” Jasper mumbled mostly to himself as Tamara followed suit and also leapt over the boat railing with the agility and grace of a trained athlete. Don’t get him wrong, he too was usually just as graceful, but his leg injury had just thrown him off his game was all. Tamara looked up at him and cleared her throat, her foot tapping away at the wood. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming!” Jasper sighed. This was going to be one long boat ride.

There were many different types of life Call could perceive through his enhanced senses. The leaves and vegetation that surrounded him all glowed with enough life to make even the largest cemetery seem lively. Perhaps that was why people brought flowers to graves: to try and dispel the stench of death by bringing a little bit of life back. Even despite the fact that many leaves were coloured like rust or gold they still seemed to radiate with it. It wasn’t just the plants either, Call could sense when a squirrel would hop high above his head between branches and boughs he probably wouldn’t even be able to pick out, and he knew when foxes and rabbits went about in the underbrush, careful not to be seen. He could sense all sorts of wondrously living organisms-- ones that he hadn’t appreciated much before, and others he still wished he could see more of. 

This wonderful new world had only opened up to him since his body had died. It was only by being dead that he could so wholly appreciate the beauty, and brevity that life had to offer. He wasn’t even sure he knew it was exactly that which made life so precious, so important. Maybe it was that death was so terrible in and of itself, and the fact that life was opposite of death which made it innately good. He wasn’t sure, but after seeing Drew die, he never wanted to see another person lose their life because of him, never . Even if it had all been Joseph’s ploy, he had played right into the trap and he would carry that for the rest of his life. Carry the weight of Drew’s life…

So caught up in his thoughts, Call almost didn’t notice when he perceived another life form-- something different from the usual animal or plant. This was no doubt a human. He knew because he could see a man standing at least five hundred paces from him in a cavern far too misplaced to miss. Not to mention the feeling of a holy relic… Vampire Killer was near. Call felt his feet move before his mind even registered the action. 

The cavern was made of dark stone, a stark contrast to the autumn trees surrounding it, and stood darkly against the ashen sky. It was shaped in an odd sort of way that made the entrance look like a maw of teeth with sharp carving rocks protruding from the sandy entrance in all shapes and sizes. Some of the mirror-like shards of rock stood taller than Call, others were thin and needle-like in shape. In the centre of the cavern was a pool, murky and ominous in both its depth and colour. It looked deep enough for someone to drown in. But most important was the sandy bay that protruded from the darkened waters. Two figures, one bent and the other tall and foreboding in stature stood, facing what looked to be a tomb made of pure obsidian. 

The mausoleum was devastatingly out of place. It was almost as if Joseph had wanted him to show up here and save the day.

Call stood deathly still behind one of the rocks, thankful for his lack of breath, and even more thankful for his piercing eyesight. A normal person would have had to get closer to manage to view them but even at a distance he had been able to make use of his vantage point. 

“Before you open it, clarify,” Alistair ordered, his voice a dry, hoarse sound. Call desperately peeked around the rock to get a better view of his father. Alistair was the bent figure, he stood painfully arched, with his hip jutting out as if he was made from only bone. His hair was long and matted, his clothes torn and dirty and in his hand he gripped Vampire Killer tightly. He looked nothing like the man Call had last seen, and it made his heart bleed despite all the walls he had tried to put up over the past few weeks. “Tell me exactly what Project Dominus is. State it plainly.”

Joseph turned, as flawless and imposing as ever and chuckled, his voice low and dangerous. 

“I thought you may never ask, Alistair, about the genius my Master and I concocted before his death…” Joseph closed his eyes as if he was reminiscing about something sentimental, something beautiful. “Project Dominus was a plan we created to achieve immortality.”

“Vampires are already immortal. You’ve danced around this enough. Just tell me straight.” Alistair requested rather tersely. 

“My master knew his death was imminent after you ran back to Ecclesia so we devised a plan. A plan for him to come back after he was inevitably killed at your hand.” Joseph gazed at Alistair rather darkly then. “He had always been so cowardly about lifting a hand against anyone in your group which was why I initially helped him kill Declan--”

“Get to the point.” Alistair ground out, his body nearly shaking with suppressed emotion. Seeing his father so upset made Call want to attack Joseph right then and there, but he held himself back. He needed to hear what Joseph was saying.

“Well, to be succinct, Project Dominus was the name of the plan to divide Dracula’s, or my Master’s, powers into the souls of humans. In this way we wouldn’t need to wait for the reincarnation period to occur, nor would we need to fear the loss of his original prowess. We would preserve everything and return it when the time was right.”

“So you split the “power” into the bodies of two newborn children?”

“Well of course,” Joseph said, unchanged at Alistair’s tone. “If we were to move either of the stones into a human body it would need to be at the time of birth so they could grow accustomed to the power and adapt. If I were to have used you or your wife's body to carry Dracula’s power until the time of arrival, it would have simply been obliterated. And to place two stones in only one child’s body would have also destroyed the vessel. We needed two newborn children for our plan to succeed.”

Joseph smiled then, as if he had done a courtesy to Alistair.

“And you killed your own son to allocate all the power into one child’s body so it would be easier to transfer it to Constantine now?”

“A life for a life is all that is needed to revive my master. His will to return is already strong. It will simply be most convenient to kill Callum and have both his pitiable soul and power go to Dracula’s glory…” Joseph rubbed his beard thoughtfully. “He should be arriving here at any moment.”

Alistair sighed, his shoulders sagging and expression growing dim. He shook his head slightly and huffed out something of a laugh. There was no joy in it. 

“Call won’t be arriving here anytime soon. He’s at Ecclesia, safe from the likes of you.”

“You know what will occur if you defy me, Alistair.” Joseph warned, turning toward him, his eyes flashing crimson. “I always knew you would never have the strength to sacrifice your son as I did. Only the strong survive in this world and you have failed to protect everything--”

“Touch my dad and I’ll tear your throat out faster than you can say sorry!” Call threatened, flashing in front of his father with inhuman speed. He was no longer thinking about what his father had done, had said, or even what he was going to do. It was only the present that mattered-- only the present he could control and that meant he was going to protect his dad. 

“ Callum ?” Alistair stuttered before Joseph could say anything. “Y-you shouldn’t-- how did you-?”

“If anything,” Joseph goaded arrogantly, “I knew you would work as the perfect bait to ensure your son arrived where he needed to be. Welcome, Callum, to your new grave.”

For a moment Call really thought he had accidentally played into some ruse set up by Alistair and Joseph and then suddenly, bullets were being fired and Joseph turned into a dark blur as he dodged wildly. It was as if something contagious lingered in the air; contagious and combustible, for soon Call had joined the fray himself sending out flaming projectiles in perfect succession to his father’s bullets.

As Alistair covered his advance, Call was slowly able to gain ground on the vampire, and slowly corner him into a cluster of glittering stalagmites. His dad was at his side at once, drawing the holy whip and brandishing it in one trembling hand.

“Wield that whip,” Joseph sneered, his fangs showing wickedly. “And it will dissolve your very soul . You are no Belmont, you don’t have the power to wield it.”

“Good thing we don’t need the whip then, because I’ll--”

“The Belmont’s arrived anyway!” A familiar voice shouted, a few paces away and Call turned his head, hope alight on his face like a beacon, yet it was his mistake as Joseph used the distraction as an opportunity to toss them aside using a strong blast of telekinetic force. Call felt his body ram into his dad’s, but Alistair held onto him protectively even as they slammed into another cluster of stalagmites and were battered by falling debris. 

“You arrived rather late, Mister Belmont, Miss Belnades,” Joseph greeted, standing up straight to dust off his robes. He deliberately looked over Jasper and Havoc and cleared his throat. “Only one person needs to die today. I was hoping it could be Drew’s murderer. What do you two say?”

“Call is…” Tamara looked toward Aaron and then toward her feet, uncharacteristically doubtful. Aaron only looked down, his fist clenched around the silver sword he had drawn and suddenly Call wished more rocks were tumbling into his eyes so he didn’t have to witness the boy’s lack of trust. 

“You don’t look so sure, hmm Belmont? Your whip was stolen by his father to protect him. Both Callum and your whip await you in that rubble pile. All you must do is complete your duty.” Joseph gazed at him fervently. “All you need to do is follow The Order’s command.”

Both Tamara and Jasper stood still as Aaron approached Call’s fallen form. Only Havoc hurriedly dashed to his side, nosing at his hand and at Alistair who still had yet to move. Call took a moment to struggle to his feet and regain his balance. There was no need for haste; Aaron was already standing right before him. If death was going to be his fate there was no need to rush, he could at least stand to die in a dignified way-- that was probably already asking for too much. 

Standing toe to toe with Aaron made Call realize in so many different ways how much he didn’t want it to end. Of how much he had wanted to keep trying. He had rushed in here, knowing it was a trap, knowing what was in store for him, knowing about everything now. He knew how he had become Dracula, he knew that Aaron and Tamara knew about him, about what he really was. 

Call risked a look up into Aaron’s eyes. The blonde’s expression was detached at best, his green eyes frosted over with apathy or something far worse. Call could see it so clearly he wished he could tear his eyes away or say something snarky, but all he felt was regret. Onerous, burdensome, regret and yet if he was given the chance to do it all over again he would probably try to hide away the exact same way. Aaron was supposed to have been his best friend. 

The blonde lifted his arm just slightly before the rubble pile rumbled and Havoc skittered backward fearfully. Alistair rose to his feet, shaking and bleeding through multiple injuries. 

“T-touch him,” Alistair stuttered, blood trickling down his head, “Touch him, and I’ll shoot.”

The silver muzzle of Alistair’s gun wavered near Aaron’s forehead. Call glanced towards Joseph who only watched them in what appeared to be sickening amusement. Tamara had summoned a flame herself and stepped forward, her lips downturned. Grimacing he turned back towards his dad, words of denial on his lips, but Jasper spoke before he could.

“Hey, meatheads! The real enemy is over here!” Call, as well as everyone else in the small cavern, turned their heads toward him instantaneously. With a solid thud, Jasper managed to push away the thick slab of obsidian covering the top of the tomb. “Well? Anybody going to stop me?”

Joseph’s eyes looked nearly white with how much rage he swelled with; any traces of amusement were gone. He rushed at Jasper with the unquelled wrath of a vampire who saw death as nothing more than a gift. His book appeared in his hand and Call could practically feel the dark magic that was confined in it.

He was watching it all occur in slow motion: Joseph summoning five spectral daggers from the flipping pages of his cursed tome, Tamara running, but not fast enough. She wouldn’t make it. He was different though, he was a vampire. He could make it. Pushing Aaron from the line of fire, Call whipped forward and shoved Jasper as hard as he could, nearly sending the boy sprawling into the pond. Joseph was on him then, all five daggers glowing with unholy power and a satisfied smirk on his lips.

“This won’t be enough to kill you, but to watch you suffer is a gift of its own.”

Jasper barely managed to look up in time to watch his friend, his closest friend, impaled by five different daggers-- daggers that had been meant for him. Call’s skin split, black blood splattering as he staggered like a dead man, his fangs bared and eyes scarlet. His vampiric skin was trying to regenerate around the cursed weapons, but the fire continuously burned away at his skin. Jasper nearly went forward himself, but stopped as a blood curdling cry echoed in the cavern, ringing in his ears even long after it had ended. 

 Alistair ran forward then, and clutched Call’s body frantically as if he had witnessed this occur before, as if cradling his body tight enough would keep Call’s soul from fleeing his body. It registered then in Jasper’s mind, that hadn’t been Call’s voice yelling, it had been his father’s. The man didn’t even turn to acknowledge Joseph who stood directly behind him, fully capable of attacking yet again. It was as if Call was the only thing in the world that mattered to him. He rocked him back and forth, gently, as if Call was just a baby.

Thankfully, before Joseph could strike again, Aaron in all his holy grandeur surged to his side gripping his long lost whip and his usual sword. He glanced at Tamara and jerked his chin toward Joseph in some sort of signal. 

“This ends now.” The blonde growled, dashing forward swiftly. 

The battle that ensued following Call’s incapacitation was swift and deadly. Aaron began by skirting Joseph’s flank and forcing him onto the defensive with his sword whilst gripping his whip tightly and waiting for a chance to strike. Tamara stood near the back, casting her spells as fast as she could manage, desperately trying to ensure Joseph could cast none of his own. Jasper moved between the two, covering their advance and deflecting as many of the projectiles Joseph sent spinning at them as he could. Joseph’s book was capable of summoning a lot more than just daggers: swords, axes, and maces swirled around the room, chipping away at the walls.

The only place the weapons didn’t strike was the open coffin where Constantine layed, horrifically intact and whole. That was also where Alistair had brought Call and taken shelter. 

Turning his attention back to the increasingly difficult onslaught, Jasper noticed where the tide of battle was heading. Despite it being three on one, Joseph’s spells were much stronger than any of them-- the experience of being the last Dracula’s main lieutenant wholly evident. Joseph, who had summoned enough cursed weapons that the room now spun with a tornado of slicing armaments, wielded a terrifying staff of onyx and engaged in a frontal assault of his own, meeting Aaron’s sword with a loud clang. They stood, each waiting for the other to relent before the force sent Aaron’s sword flying, and both recipients backwards. Joseph still clung victoriously to his weapon.

The vampire flashed before Tamara then, and Jasper only barely blocked his attempt to smash her into oblivion with sheer force. Tamara’s strengths were in ranged attacks, not in hand to hand combat and when things got close it was up to Jasper and Aaron to protect her. 

“We need to find some way to stop this tornado!” Tamara shouted, retreating further backwards on the small bay. Unfortunately, it didn’t afford her much space, but in the least she wasn’t huddling behind Jasper like a menace anymore. 

With a well timed blast, she disintegrated a flying axe that nearly sliced Jasper’s head and neck in two, and looked towards Aaron who now fought against three possessed arms. Things were most definitely not in their favour.

“Belnades!” a shout called from near the coffin. Tamara immediately turned her head in the chaos and caught Call’s father’s eyes. He jerked his head in a way that signalled her to come. 

Tamara neared them as discreetly as she could manage in the descending discord and eyed him wearily. 

“What is it? We don’t exactly have time to chat right now.” 

Call’s father remained silent, but Call himself sat up, his head lolling as if it took a great amount of effort just to remain upright. Tamara nearly got distracted with how fast she was able to watch Call’s tissue and muscle regenerate now that the cursed arms had been removed. The process was occurring right before her eyes. 

“T-that spell you wanted to cast,” Call sputtered, black blood dripping down his chin. “T-to get rid of…”

As if understanding his son’s fading words, Alistair’s eyes suddenly lit up.

“Sanctuary, the spell. Call wants you to cast Sanctuary on Joseph, rid him of his vampirism and then I’ll finish him off. You stay behind here and start casting. This bay we’re on is tiny enough that the radius of the spell will hit him no matter where you stand.”

Before Tamara could accept or decline his idea, Alistair slipped from behind the coffin and began shooting, his bullets as precise as they were undamaging. He wasn’t able to slow Joseph to any extent, but at least he was able to hit the flying weapons with relative ease. Joseph smirked at the change in opponents and switched his assault to Alistair immediately. Shakily, Alistair dodged out of the way of Joseph’s charge and kicked him hard when his back was left unguarded. With the practised ease of a veteran, he pulled out a small bottle of silver-flecked water and tossed it at Joseph’s staggered form.

“Time is our friend,” Alistair said calmly, drawing Aaron’s fallen sword from the ground. He tried to give the two boys that stood before him a reassuring look. “Draw out the battle. It’ll all end soon.”

The vampire howled in pain, and turned viciously toward Alistair, his fangs bared and dripping with uncontained saliva. 

“It will end sooner with your death, Hunt. It's been awaiting you since the first day you chose to keep my Master from his fate!”

Instead of meeting any of Joseph’s attacks head on, Alistair chose to dance around his charge, evading each of his attacks with only a few inches to spare. Oftentimes this forced him into a position open to one of the cursed projectiles, but Jasper tried to defend Alistair as best he could. Turned out hitting the swiftly spinning weapons proved rather hard for someone who used a spear. 

Alistair stumbled backwards and bumped against the stone wall, unaware of the constraints of a room so small and Joseph grinned maliciously, slashing at his exposed abdomen. Alistair twisted in a way to protect his vital organs and allowed his hip to be slashed painfully, blood dripping and the holster of his gun cut cleanly through. 

Aaron, who finally seemed to have finished dawdling, flung his whip out expertly and watched in satisfaction as Joseph’s legs clumsily came together, bound by nothing more than Vampire Killer itself. Alistair immediately went forward, ready to strike, but Joseph only wriggled pathetically, his attention pointed toward the coffin.

“You scheming--” but his words stopped as a bright light filled the cavern, wondrous and holy in its blessing. For a single second it was as if everything stilled, as if peace had finally settled over each tumultuous heart and ended everything, and then Call gasped painfully, his breaths short and ragged and the moment was gone. 

Joseph was already on his feet, his tornado of weapons vanishing with the healing light of Sanctuary. 

“Nobody attack him.” Alistair ordered, eyeing Aaron who clasped his whip a little too tightly. “No one in this room can die or else Constantine will--”

Joseph bent down then, slowly, methodically, his eyes alight with madness. He looked between each persons’ face, traced their countenance with his eyes and then smirked. Alistair knew what was going to occur, but his feet wouldn’t move fast enough. Even in his desperation he--

“Checkmate, Hunt .” 

In that single moment Joseph brought Alistair’s gun to his own head and fired, the long silence following the bullet deafening. Alistair looked between Aaron and Jasper’s expressions, at the indescribable fear that had etched its way onto their faces and remained like a scar.

“Get away from the coffin,” Alistair murmured, hastily making his way to where Tamara and Call had taken shelter. All of Call’s wounds had closed, but he was white as a sheet only blinking and muttering things incoherently. His small hands were clenched around something, but the time for dallying was over. The Belnades was clearly in shock herself, her dark eyes wide and fluttering, but Alistair didn’t have time for a therapy session. They needed to make distance and fast. “Come on.”

Pulling both of them as gently as he could with urgency weighing his actions and pain hindering his judgement, Alistair managed to get both near the edge of the bay with Aaron and Jasper following suit. It was when Alistair was counting heads that he heard something shift behind him: movement, slow and purposeful. Something awakening behind him that shouldn’t have ever walked the earth again.

Part of him didn’t want to turn and see the nightmare that Joseph had brought to wakefulness, part of him was too afraid to turn. But Alistair was far past the time in his life when he had the luxury of choice. 

Turning his head mechanically, Alistair felt as if his world had fallen into slow motion. He watched someone sit up in the coffin, adorned in black robes of silk that slipped off his shoulders to show healthy, unscarred skin. Long dark hair fell down his shoulders and lean, but muscular arms pushed the man to stand. He gazed at them with pearlescent, silver eyes unsullied by any fleck of red.

He wanted to vomit. He wanted to flee. He wanted to see Sarah one last time.

Unconsciously Alistair pushed the kids further behind his thin frame as if to protect them from the man’s all-seeing gaze. He was sure it didn’t do anything for them. Constantine had probably already memorized all of their faces, but somehow it still felt right. It was something Sarah would have done.

“Not planning on shooting me again, are you, Alistair?”

A large chunk of the cavern’s ceiling fell between them then, sending tiny particles of sand splashing like a stormy sea. Alistair almost forgot to pay attention to Constantine as his focus returned to the children behind him. With Joseph dead, no one remained to uphold this magically crafted mausoleum. If they didn’t leave now, they would all end up as dead as Constantine should have been. 

“We need to leave,” Alistair informed the kids, glancing behind himself as a large stalagmite fell into the underground pond, and sent actual waves crashing toward them. Alistair swept up Call in one arm and put a determined hand on Jasper’s shoulder. 

“But what about--” Tamara asked, having regained her senses.

“No time for him, we’ve got to prioritize saving ourselves right now.”

As Alistair rushed the kids out, he glanced back at Constantine’s lone figure. He stood solemnly in the coffin, even as rocks piled around him, even as the chaos pursued. He knew he was watching them flee, watching their every move and Alistair didn’t know what to do, he didn’t know how to feel. Distance. They needed distance and that was all he could be sure of.

Chapter Text

A silent breeze swept through trees, an empty blue sky stared down at them, as unchanging as ever. His dad was saying something, his eyes urgent and movements choppy. He was bleeding severely from his hip, but he made no indication he was even aware of the injury. Call watched Tamara respond back equally as shaky, her words tumbling out of her lips and her gestures near incoherent. Aaron was as silent as Call was, and for a moment  they caught each other's gaze frozen in an unsparing eternity they both knew was their shared fate. Jasper stood a slight distance away from everyone, quivering as his lips twitched downwards. 

The sound of Alistair's voice broke through his reverie, shattering it as easily as a thin sheet of glass. 

"You can't say anything," Alistair ordered them, but his voice held no authority. It wasn’t really an order, it was a plea. A terrified, exhausted plea from a man who had lost far too much. "Ecclesia won't try to understand they'll just-"

“But Constantine-" Tamara started.

"Constantine may be alive but he's not a threat to anybody. He's not the current Dracula, Call is." Aaron said definitively, his gaze returning back to Call's. It burned him with its intensity; it burned him in the same way Jericho Madden had been burned: tied to a stake with no option but to accept his fate. Was that his fate too? 

Would Constantine help him avoid it now that he lived? Was that even an option he should consider?

    “Where's Havoc?” Call asked instead, his eyes unfocused. He didn’t want to look at Aaron who seemed so intent on staring, nor at Jasper who seemed the opposite. 

Before anyone could reply a sharp yap sounded over a nearby hill. Havoc climbed over the edge, silhouetted by the glowing sun like a hero and behind trailed a very stern looking Master Rufus. 

It was just like before, when the castle had first fallen down. They had arrived outside of the crumbling structure, and Master Rufus had been there, just like now, ready to escort them back to Ecclesia. Rufus didn’t smile when he saw them, nor did he reprimand them. He simply looked, lowered his eyes, and rested a firm hand on Aaron’s shoulder. The blonde’s gaze never left Call.

Alex’s stupid airplane was waiting on the beach when Rufus guided them back. Call could barely keep his attention on his teacher's words, but he was pretty sure Master Rufus said something about the “Council of Ecclesia” and “court”. He tried to speak to Alistair a few times, but his father simply answered with grunts and nods, occasionally squeezing Call’s arm or shoulder at random intervals.

Soon enough they were all seated in the plane again and back up in the air. Jasper spent the entire time in the bathroom, while Alistair sat with his hands clenched together and expression pensive. Aaron and Tamara were as silent as the dead. 

After what seemed like an hour of sitting and staring blankly, Call finally couldn't bear the weight of Aaron's onlooking gaze and got up to wander. Considering the proximity of rooms in the plane, it wasn't really all that shocking that Call stumbled into the kitchen and caught sight of Master Rufus engaged in a heated conversation with someone on the phone, his back turned and posture tense.

"It is simply not right to hold this meeting as soon as they arrive. They are injured, and bleeding--" Rufus paused for a moment as the person on the other end of the line spoke, and Call could see the man's mocha coloured eyes crinkle with incredulity. "If you refuse to give them their basic human rights, then I insist you at least provide them with mega-potions or something of equal healing potential."

A moment passed before Rufus's shoulders dropped and he pocketed his phone, his disappointment clear. He turned suddenly, and met Call's eyes, his expression guarded and intense.

"Callum Hunt." He said by way of greeting. 

"Hey." 

"It has been quite some time since we've spoken to each other. Many things have occurred… I do apologize if that conversation was disruptive." Rufus put a hand to his chin and sighed. "I would ask how you've been, though I believe your condition speaks enough for itself."

Call wrung his hands about for a moment, his eyes on the fridge behind Rufus, then on the wall beside him…really on anything but him . 

Call shrugged, suddenly aware of how cold he felt.

"Well, uh, how- how have you been then? Lately?"

Rufus raised his brows, seemingly surprised that Call was still speaking to him and then clasped his hands together behind his back. He looked ready to begin a lecture.

"I have been many different things over the course of your impromptu disappearance. But mostly, I was worried. Worried over your disappearances, worried about the future…" Master Rufus paused his pacing to look at Call. "Do you understand the worth of concern Mr. Hunt?"

"I know that some people oughta’ mind their own business more often," Call said his voice taking on a dark undertone."In that case, I don’t think it's worth all that much to worry all the time. You’ll just end up tired and other people will end up hurt."

"Hmmm, did you learn that from Alistair?” Master Rufus asked, though he spoke the words more like they were a statement. 

“So what if I did?” Call responded back, slightly defensive. 

“Alistair was not wrong to teach you that, Callum. It is indeed important to remember the fine line between being overbearing and truly trying to help someone. However, I personally believe allowing others to worry over us is a gift in its own right.”

Call just blinked up at Rufus, wholly confused. 

    “Are you one of those people that thinks that stress actually makes people stronger? Cause if you are, it's no wonder you’re bal--”

"When someone is worried about you, Callum, it shows they care about you." Rufus explained, his expression softening and eyes growing warm. "They want better for you, or for you to accept their assistance where you might need it. From our perspective it may seem like nagging, but if we truly take the time to understand another’s intentions we may find something well worthwhile."

“Did Aaron tell you to say this to me?” Call asked, his gaze downcast. 

“Ever since I arrived, Aaron has been extremely tight-lipped about everything, so no. I can tell you he did not advise me to say anything to you. I simply thought a valuable lesson was worth sharing with anyone willing to listen.”

“That's such a teacher thing to say,” Call muttered, scratching his arm thoughtlessly.

“Considering I have yet to relinquish my position as a teacher at Ecclesia, I will accept that as a compliment.

Call couldn’t help the smile that tugged at his lips. Master Rufus didn’t know his secret, he didn’t know about any of the atrocities Call had committed. Speaking to him was like standing in a cool spring breeze right after a rain; he was both refreshing and insightful. Not that Call would ever actually admit that to him, or anyone else.

When the plane landed, they didn’t arrive in Ecclesia like Call had thought they would. Instead they had landed in front of a large building made completely of a pearly white stone with black veins shooting through it. Large pillars towered above them, swirling into the clouds and a single golden nameplate stared unflinchingly at them: “The Order of Ecclesia”. Upon entering they were quickly ushered away from Master Rufus and into something of what Call guessed was a deliberation room. They were given a few potions and then left alone to stare at each other once again. 

    “We won’t mention him .” Alistair murmured, rubbing his temples. Even despite his injury being healed, he looked sick with how pallid and gray his skin looked. 

    “Which one?” Aaron asked, his green eyes as unforgiving as his words. “The one with us, or the one we revived?”

    “He’s asking us not to talk about either of them.” Tamara clarified, levelling Alistair with a pointed gaze. Aaron’s frown deepened.

    “Listen, it doesn’t matter what you two say to the Order. They won’t do jack shit to you. For us- no, for your friend Jasper on the other hand--”

Call put a placating hand on his dad’s arm and stood, earning the ire of the entire room. 

    “You guys’ll say what you’re gonna say no matter what we tell you. I learned that the hard way,” Call said, his gaze lingering on Tamara for a moment. “Just try and make sure you don’t regret it this time around.”

Aaron’s stoic facade wrinkled with disparity for a moment as anger flickered dangerously on his face. It was so brief Call barely even noticed it.

As if on cue with his words, the attendant returned, ushering them forward into yet another room. Unlike the deliberation room they had all squished into, this room was as wide as it was large, with seats of people lined around it like walls. The Council sat on the highest row, looking down on them like gods peering down at the puny ants they had once called “creation”. Call wondered if Constantine had stood on this stage once, staring up at people for a judgement already declared by some revered deity.

    “Where is Anastasia?” an old man whispered, though his voice carried enough for everyone in the courtroom to hear. 

    “A family emergency doesn’t permit her to be here at the moment. We’ll talk once the case is concluded,” another man responded discreetly. 

The older of the two coughed into his hand and cleared his throat.

"Three times. Three times we warned you to stay within Ecclesia, Mr. Belmont. And Miss Belnades, you didn't stop him yourself, you went right along with him," he began, echoing across the room. Call couldn't see anything else about him aside from the beaded golden cross that radiated with divine light. Even a thousand feet away, Call would be able to sense that. "Hello everyone. If you are not familiar with me, I am Cardinal Graves, the head and heart of Ecclesia. I will be presiding over this courtroom for the duration of this case. Now if I may continue, you were all prompted to leave by a single boy I believe."

Every single pair of eyes flew to Call and a deafening silence rang louder than any death knell. 

"A boy," the elderly man continued. "That broke into the forbidden archive, destroyed it, and dismantled the vault that held Dracula's powers. What have you done with those devilish powers, boy? Have you given them to someone?"

A chorus of gasps surrounded the room, and Call felt shock rising to the forefront of his own mind. What was he supposed to say to that without exposing himself? What lie could he even possibly spin to save himself?

    “He gave them to me ,” Alistair lied, his voice dripping with bitterness. Call finally turned to glance at his father and felt his eyes flutter with how enraged he was. It was so unlike him to be so obviously emotional. Alistair stood as taught as a winded string, his fists clenched so tightly he trembled; his eyes were narrowed defiantly and his lips were pulled into a painful grimace. “No matter what experiments you wanted to do with them, powers like those don’t belong in our world. I destroyed them, like you should have done years ago.”

“He is the one who stole Vampire Killer, is he not?” A woman’s voice sounded from another chair.  

“Alistair Hunt is indeed the one who stole the divine blessing,” Graves replied. “He is also the one that aided and abetted Constantine Madden after it was made public he was Dracula. As well as being charged guilty for the deaths of many notable persons: Declan Novak, Sarah Novak, and Edgar Rufus. Last you were called to my court you fled. Now that you’re here, I would proceed with utmost caution.”

Alisair’s lips tightened into a firm line, his expression just as hateful even through his silence. 

    “I thought we were on trial for the destruction of the forbidden library?” Jasper asked obstinately, his voice shaking. 

    “Mr. DeWinter, your actions have earned your mother detainment and your father’s actions have put you both in a very precarious situation. I would follow after the better of your two of your parents, and speak only when spoken to.” The Cardinal cleared his throat, an ever-stretching silence resounding in the room. “I would like for Callum Hunt to speak for himself.”

    “We had an opportunity and we took it,” Tamara said instead, her voice clear. “If we didn’t do anything other than sitting in school, then carrying the names Belmont and Belnades would be virtually useless.”

    “Call and his dad had good intentions even if they had some troubles along the way.” Aaron added, not meeting anyone’s eyes. Call watched him with as much intensity and shock as the surrounding crowd. “They set out with a goal in mind and they accomplished it, even if they did have to sacrifice some things along the way.”

    “And what exactly did they accomplish?” The councilman inquired, his voice having taken on a patronizing tone.

    “We killed Joseph Wallace.” Call declared, raising the cursed-tome he had taken from Joseph’s corpse to display to everyone. “With both Dracula and Joseph dead, your war is over.”

The crowd erupted into a cacophony of raised voices and exclamations, but Call barely registered any of it, he was too busy holding Aaron’s gaze, hoping the blonde understood what his words meant.

Once the verdict of the case was decided, and Joseph's cursed tome was proved to be true and authentic, time seemed to have increased its pace by tenfold. After things were proven they had all been ultimately declared as war heroes, and Alistair, who had a hefty list of crimes to bear, had been acquitted entirely. The “crimes” Call had committed had also been overlooked and soon after this decision was made, all five of them were rushed back to the school to be treated and cared for. It felt like a thousand other things had been decided during that period of time, but Call could’t recount a single other thing even if he tried.

Apparently the potion Alistair had downed earlier wasn’t nearly enough to heal his severe injuries and almost as soon as they arrived at Ecclesia they were rushed into the infirmary. Watching all the doctors in their white, sterile lab coats rush about left Call feeling uncharacteristically out of place. Alistair had been forced into a hospital bed after a few steps and as much as Call knew he should avoid the infirmary at Ecclesia, he couldn’t help but linger about as his father was rolled into a secluded room. He trailed after him and the group of nurses like a lost puppy, embodying the role better than Havoc who also trailed behind him.

    “You did good,” Alistair murmured once they were alone, his eyes ashen. “You did good at court.”

From underneath the thin sheet covering him, Alistair reached a trembling hand toward Call, offering his hand to make up for some semblance of comfort. Call tightened his lips into something akin to a smile to imply his silent thanks, but he couldn’t hold it for long. Words bubbled out of him as painful as they were unwanted.

“I thought you wanted me dead.” Call whispered, unable to control the way his lips pressed downwards. He latched onto his father’s hand, desperate to cling to what they had once shared. “I thought you took Vampire Killer so you could--”

“Call,” Alistair began, stopping him from finishing his statement. “It was never for you. I couldn’t assure you correctly because of that bastard, but I only took Vampire Killer because I knew Joseph was keeping his body. The whip was meant for him , not you. Never .”

Call sighed heavily, an invisible weight falling from his shoulders. It felt as if he was breathing fresh air for the first time, or suddenly remembering what it felt like to have someone in your corner of the world; someone who really knew you, who really cared. He had wanted so badly to know that everything, everything between him and Alistair was just a misunderstanding. To hear his dad really say those words was everything he had ever wanted and more.

    “So you don’t care about… about what I am?” Call furrowed his brow suddenly aware of the deceitful nature of acknowledgement. “Even though it means I’m evil and dead, and cursed? And there's also the fact that everyone else wants me dead too--”

Alistair squeezed his hand, shifting to sit up a bit straighter. 

    “Don’t say things like that too loud,” he chastised, massaging his forehead with his free hand. Call looked towards the floor, unsure of his father’s gaze.“Listen to me, Call. You choose who you get to be. No one else can choose that for you, and no matter what you choose to do I will stand by you and support you. I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

Call opened his mouth, shock silencing his words, but stopped midway as a nurse returned placing a firm hand on his shoulder. 

    “I’m sorry sir, the surgery is about to begin. You’ll be able to see your father in a few hours, but I’m going to have to ask you to step out for the time being.”

    “Yeah, okay,” Call agreed, flashing his watery eyes back toward his dad. He mustered the most wobbly smile he could manage.“I’ll see you soon dad.”

Alistair managed a weak smile himself before the door was shut and Call was left to imagine confronting all of the horrors without a loved one by his side-- what a complete nightmare that would be. Just a few weeks thinking Alistair hated him had nearly driven him off the edge, how could he even come to fathom an eternity of that?

    “Conversation go well with your dad?” Jasper asked, leaning on the wall with his hands pocketed. Call hadn’t even seen him standing there until he had spoken. Part of him wondered how long the boy had been standing there, how long he had waited for him to come out. It wasn’t really like Jasper to wait on others.

    “Yeah, it went pretty well.” Call flinched, shocked by the obvious emotion in his voice. He cleared his throat and flashed Jasper a terse smile. “What about you? How have you been holding up?”

    “I mean I don’t think I’ll ever see my dad again, but you know,” Jasper said simply as if it was simply another off-hand comment, but it wasn’t. Call knew it wasn’t. He could hear the ruggedness of his voice, the raw emotion poorly concealed. “Joseph was the last person that knew anything about his whereabouts or anything, and I don’t even know if its better for me and my mom if he’s gone, or if I wanna be selfish and go find him--”

Jasper sucked in a sharp breath and pulled at his hair, finally looking at Call. His eyes were red and his lips were trembling, but it was the first time he had really met his gaze since they had been separated. Call counted that as a good sign.

“Listen, I’m done making promises I can’t keep. I don’t know if you’ll ever see your dad again, or anything about that stuff…” Call brought a hand to his neck sheepishly, tempted to avert his eyes. He didn’t, he held Jasper’s gaze, hoping he could convey his feelings through his words. “But you know if you choose to leave Ecclesia and look for him, I’ll be there. And if you choose to stay here I’ll stay too. We’re partners in crime, remember? We’ll stick together through hell and high water.”

Jasper stared at him for a second before sighing and allowing his shoulders to sag. 

    “You know, you say stuff like that and I can’t help but wonder if my dad was right all along,” he lamented, shoving his hands back into his pockets. “What if he was right to stand  against Ecclesia all this time? I mean if the last Dracula and you are anything alike, I think I would have followed him just like my dad. Cardinal Graves is an ass.”

Call blinked blankly for a moment, and then stared straight into Jasper’s face.  

    “I think that's the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

    “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Jasper grumbled without missing a beat. “I’ve still got some reputation to upkeep.”

    “That reputation have anything that might be able to make a Belnades and Belmont not hate me for the rest of eternity?” Call asked, rolling on the balls of his feet.

    “I mean, the best thing we could start with is an apology… From both of us.” Jasper paused contemplatively and Call couldn’t help but speak.

    “So got any idea where we could find them to do that?”

    “Aaron’s probably somewhere mulling over the different ways he could kill you and dispose of your body without anyone finding it, and Tamara is probably the one giving him the physical means to actually do it.”

    “A graveyard would be pretty good inspiration for that,” Call guessed aloud, looking back towards his father’s hospital suite. “Think we should check it out?”

    “It’ll rule out one place if they’re not there.” he shrugged.

As it turned out, both boys didn’t even make it past the well in their pursuit; Aaron and Tamara were sitting at a nearby bench conveniently, simply staring forward as still as a statue. Part of Call wondered how a bird hadn’t already made its nest in his hair already, but the guilty, regretful part of his mind tempered his thoughts swiftly. Now wasn’t the time for birds.

    “So I know you guys probably never want to talk to me again,” Call began, making his way to walk in front of the sitting pair with his hands pocketed to hide the nervous jitters he assumed he still had. “But thanks for not getting me burned alive today.”

Jasper coughed unsupportively at Call’s introductory speech, and Tamara simply quirked her eyebrow up, disbelief on her face. Aaron remained dead silent, his hands clasped tightly together and his back bent as if he was contemplating with god the best way to smite Call off the face of the planet. Call wasn’t stupid, he knew he deserved it.

    “I wanted to say sorry for, uh, lying to you guys for like a year and a half-- or for however long I’ve known you-- and I wanted to thank you guys not just for saying all that stuff in court, but also for,” Call swallowed with difficulty, remembering Master Rufus’s words. “For always watching out for me even when I didn’t deserve it.”

Call blinked a few times before he began pacing, unable to hold either persons’ gaze for any longer. 

    “Now I’m not asking you guys to forgive me, or to be my friends or anything like that, I know what I had, and I know what I’ve lost…” Call froze, turning back to Tamara and Aaron, his hand sticking out awkwardly. “No hard feelings. We let bygones be bygones and call this entire thing done and over.”

Tamara scoffed and broke free from her statue-like stillness, slapping Call’s hand with enough force to make it throb slightly. 

    “No way I’m letting you off without a proper explanation.  You’re gonna explain everything from the beginning. No lies, no exaggerations, nothing abridged. The whole actual truth this time.” Tamara pinned him with a sharp look, a familiar pen and journal in her hand. “Got it?”

Chapter Text

It felt like time was nothing more than a concept, and Call was simply a never-ending chasm of words that he couldn’t stop, not even if he wanted to. Tamara didn’t even have to prompt him to begin. Considering Call was even given the chance to explain himself was near miraculous, and boy was he going to use it. Every look, every furrowed brow, every sharp intake of breath; it all only spurred him to speak more, to try and convey the truth he so badly wanted to communicate: he wasn’t evil, his intentions weren't wrong, and the fact that he happened to be an evil vampire overlord didn’t change any of that. 

The revival of the past one didn’t change that either.

He started with the ‘Demonic Guesthouse’ all the way back in the castle with the rooms that had magically arranged to accommodate his stay. From there, he recounted his meeting with the weary skeleton waiter, and meeting Aaron who had brandished his holy whip in a completely frightening way… Then there was his entire conversation with Joseph and their discussion over the Power of Dominance, and of course the stupid scratch he had nearly lost his cover over if not for Drew’s impromptu entrance. This also just so happened to be the grand start of his and Jasper’s alliance.

Conveniently, Call decided not to mention the blood drinking part just because he wasn’t sure how his audience would take it and because, well, how important was it to really spell out all the details? Definitely not necessary. 

Next Call continued with the Beelzebub fight, his realization of his dark magic, and finally of the brief memories he was able to witness that weren't really his to begin with. Shortly after that, Call had  been beaten by Joseph and then suddenly prompted by him to kill Drew, which they now knew was for the success of Project Dominus. 

The rest they practically knew aside from a few glossed over details. Call, who had been ignorant of his father’s intentions, had supposed the stealing of Vampire Killer had been meant to destroy him. Really, Alistair had feigned a relationship with Joseph to try and destroy Constantine’s preserved body-- an idea he most likely got from Drew all the way back in the castle. Having been unaware of this, Call had taken Jasper and went on a trip in order to get Vampire Killer back into the right hands, and get his dad as far away from Joseph as possible. The rest, Tamara and Aaron knew as they had pursued them closely throughout the entire ordeal.

    “Well that explains a lot,” Aaron murmured, speaking for the first time since Call had arrived.

Tamara glanced at Aaron as though she was shocked he decided to speak and then folded her hands in her lap in a very calm demeanor.

    “So have you drank anyone’s blood?”

Jasper choked on what Call could only suppose was saliva and Aaron’s golden brows nearly disappeared under the overgrown fringe of his bangs. 

    “I, uh, there was one time. Yeah.” Call coughed, suddenly feeling very small under the scrutiny of such intense looks. “I didn’t like it though. I only did it because I had to. It really had nothing to do with me …Well, I mean kind of--”

    “It was Jasper’s, wasn’t it?” Tamara asked, her tone even. “That's why he had that bandage around his wrist back in the castle, right?”

Aaron looked between them as if he was witnessing a real pig sprout wings before him and take to the sky. It was like he was trying to understand something he couldn’t even fathom was possible in the first place. Call felt a nervous laugh slip through his facade of tranquility and averted his gaze to his feet.

    “You remember that?!” Jasper exclaimed, suddenly an active part of the conversation.

    “How could I forget?” Tamara asked, putting a placating hand on Aaron’s shoulder. It didn’t seem to help stem his shock. “Call was energetic, which was something I had never seen before, and you and him kept sharing these weird glances anytime anything close to vampires came up. In hindsight of all this, you two are really terrible at keeping secrets.”

Jasper slumped into the bench, and Call very desperately wanted to follow suit. If only Aaron wasn’t pinning him with his gaze and making him stand straighter than a rod and more alert than ever.

    “Yeah, well, another secret I should probably apologize for is,” Jasper took a large breath and glanced at Aaron and Tamara through lowered lashes. “I’m sorry about what happened in the library. I didn’t really mean to hurt you guys like that, I was just angry. Angry at Ecclesia and the way they act.”

Aaron let something of a terse smile break through his stoic expression and placed a firm hand on Jasper’s shoulder. 

    “I  never held it against you.”

    “Well, I guess I should apologize too,” Tamara sighed, leaning back into the bench. She crossed her arms and looked toward the sky. “I never wanted to be hurtful, Call. Everything I did and asked was meant to help protect Aaron and Ecclesia- you too Jasper. I just wanted to keep everyone safe even at the cost of a few singular people.”

A moment of silence claimed the group as Call tried to figure how he might go about forgiving Tamara for putting his dad up on the chopping  block, but his answer came almost as swiftly as the warm breeze did: in the same way she had forgiven him. Collapsing onto his back, Call stared up at the cloudless sky above, allowing all the emotions he had tangled up in his chest to dissipate.

“You know, we could have avoided all of this stuff if we just…” Call paused, his brow suddenly furrowed. How could they have avoided such a mess? Given how stacked the circumstances were against them they pretty much didn’t have a-

“Just openly talked to each other?” Aaron finished solemnly, staring at him once again. 

Call coughed once after the silence made its painful return and looked in Tamara’s general direction so as to avoid direct eye-contact with Aaron. 

    “No way it could have been that easy-”

    “Nope, Aaron’s right,” Tamara agreed, nodding her head. “Communication is key.”

    “But-”

    “No ‘ buts’ for the Belmont.” Jasper replied unhelpfully. As stupid as the comment was,  it made Call happy to hear the other back to his usual stupid antics.

Funny how much lighter an apology could make one feel when it wasn’t anything more than a few choice words. Well, according to Aaron a few extra words could have changed the course of their entire journey. So maybe all he had to do was speak up more and maybe, just maybe take some of Rufus’s advice and try to make less people worry.

Chapter Text

The Order of Ecclesia was as formidable a foe as it was a friend. Call felt that was something he should have realized at least a few months ago, but for some reason he was only realizing it now; a week after his almost death trial, and the day of the lavish party the Order was throwing in his honour. Well, not just his- Aaron, Tamara, Jasper, and his dad’s honour too, but with his dapper new Oxfords, his freshly combed hair, and his pristine suit he couldn’t help but feel a little self-important. Maybe it was a bad side effect of borrowing one of Jasper’s ever-present combs. 

No, if Call was honest with himself, which was something he never was- but he never got parties thrown in his name either so that was the current excuse he was using- it all boiled down to an annoying knot in the pit of his stomach. He felt wrong, unconventional, misplaced; like a sinner standing among a thousand saints. It felt wrong to be wearing Ecclesia’s rich, nice clothes, to be standing upright on his own two legs, to be honoured… It was true that he had finally let go of one secret, but he had only gained another: Constantine Madden, the previous Dracula, was alive and well thanks to him. Boy was Ecclesia gonna make him one hell of a cell when they figured that one out.

“You look cross,” Alistair commented, arriving by his side. It had been less than a week since his surgery and he seemed to be near complete recovery. Call had seen Master Rufus nodding his head in that scholarly manner before and saying something of ‘holy magic’ and ‘prayers’. Call wasn’t sure he cared about the particulars, he was just glad his dad was better. 

“And you look like a square dad,” Call mumbled without much thought, his eyes caught on the glittering of distant candles that lit the massive chandeliers that hung above them. A man stood on a tall thin ladder, lighting each candle dutifully. Others stood about the ballroom too, setting up tables and putting wax on the already shining marble floor. Watching everyone set up left Call and Alistair to remain unseen in one of the many entrances to the southernmost ballroom, simply basking in the silence.

Alistair looked down at his silvery vest and pressed trousers and shrugged helplessly. 

“We’ll be out of here soon enough,” he said, Call’s words clearly lost on him. Seemingly cheered by his own comment, Alistair pushed his glasses up his nose and coughed into his hand. “Looks like your hair’s getting pretty long.”

“Look who’s talking,” Call laughed, turning his gaze from the workers to his dad whose hair was practically mullet-length. “You could be the lead guitarist in any rock band you wanted with hair like that.”

Alistair reached a tentative hand to the back of his neck as if he didn’t expect to find his hair that length and smiled softly, a laugh barely pushing past his lips. 

“Sarah- your mom- she always said she liked it when I grew out my hair.”

Call blinked once, and then a second time as the words really settled in his mind, as the realization that his dad, Alistair Hunt, had really just said something about the mother he had never known. Back in his dad’s shop, Now and Again, Call had expressed his desire to know about his mom, but he hadn’t been sure that Alistair was ready. Call could barely repress the pure joy that threatened to claim his expression. For once he couldn’t be happier about being wrong.

It was a tiny miniscule detail. Really it would amount to nothing- but knowing that Alistair was trying for him made his still heart tremble.

“So I guess we’re both growing our hair out then?” Call asked, a grin forming on his lips unbidden.

Alistair laughed then, a dry, crackly sound like an engine that hadn’t been used for years; it suited his dad considering how rarely he did laugh, but the few times he did, it made Call feel like the proudest kid in the world. 

“As soon as we’re back home, I’m cutting it.”

Before Call even had a chance to express his opinion on his hair, Havoc bound through the entrance to the gardens trailing muddy little paw-prints, much to the worker’s chagrin, all throughout the hall until he leapt onto Call’s chest and shoved his snout into his face fit with a dead mouse, dried grass, and plenty of slobber.

“Hey, buddy!” Call greeted, with a genuine smile. He held Havoc's face in his hands and rubbed his head tenderly. 

Havoc wagged his tail increasingly at Call’s voice and moved his head up and down mechanically as if he was torn between licking his face and not dropping his current catch.

“He’s getting one too,” Alistair muttered, folding his arms and leaning back into the arch of the doorway. Call didn't need his enhanced eyesight to know his dad was shaking his head and smiling.

After Havoc was finished showing off his prize and finally settled down, Call couldn’t help but return to his state of contemplation. Everything felt unreal. It was like he was a part of a giant chess game, and he was just one of the many pieces on the board- one of the many players being controlled by another’s hands…He had been sure that person’s hands had been Joseph’s, but now that he was dead who did the game fall to? Constantine? Graves?

“Call, what happened to your shirt?” Tamara asked, approaching him in an emerald coloured dress that billowed about her legs prettily. Her hair was styled in loose curls that framed her face. Master Rufus walked beside her, his robes a matching shade of green and his gaze just as keen. 

Call looked down toward his shirt and winced as he noticed Havoc’s muddy paw-prints marring the once pristine white. He looked up at his dad, trying to mask a smile. 

“Muddy paw-prints is the new black, right?”

“Aaron is still in his room in Ecclesia. I am sure he would have another white shirt for you to borrow if you hurry,” Master Rufus informed him, ignoring his comment. “It would be best if you make haste.” 

“Aaron’s shirt? What if I went to-”

“Why’re you stalling?” Tamara asked, an accusing hand on her hip. “Just go!”

Call made one last despondent look towards Alistair and trudged off, walking slowly and without much desire to go forward. Sure he had apologized to Aaron and Tamara for lying to them, and sure he had promised to never ever do anything even slightly morally wrong again, but for some reason that still wasn’t good enough for Mister Stewart. Aaron was still giving Call the silent treatment. He would speak to him in a single sentence and then not say anything for the next week. Even Tamara was back speaking to him in full, but for whatever impossible reason Aaron was still holding a grudge.

When Call arrived at his door, he barely even had a moment to think about what he was going to say or do next; Aaron swung his mighty door open and thwacked Call nearly smack in the centre of his head. 

It only took Call a few seconds to recover, but he faked holding his head for a little longer to see if the infuriating blonde would break his sacred vow of silence to apologize for his mistake. He was currently looking very confused with his mouth opening and closing as if he wasn’t sure if he was ready to speak or not. 

“Nope- no, don’t worry about me,” Call assured him, waving his hands in front of himself and standing back up to his full height. He gave the blonde a clipped smile. “I wouldn’t want to be the one to interrupt your little silent game. You’ve been killing it for weeks. One little apology isn’t worth it.”

“Sorry,” Aaron replied brusquely, standing straight as a rod with his eyes narrowed. He said the words in such a forceful, spiteful way Call barely even felt their literal meaning.

They both stood there awkwardly for a second, Call wondering why he even decided to open his mouth while Aaron stood still as a statue, appearing to safeguard the contents of his room with how he lingered about. 

“So, uh, Master Rufus sent me here to ask to borrow one of your white shirts,” Call cleared his throat, averting his gaze. “He said the faster the better… And you staring me down in the hallway isn’t exactly making prime use of our time.”

Aaron eyed him for a moment, something foreign in his gaze, and then motioned him forward with a jerk of his head. Honestly, Call was shocked that he wasn’t stomping his feet and crossing his arms with how he was acting. That thought nearly had him chuckling at himself, but Aaron’s look silenced him before any sound came.

After a few seconds of rummaging through his closet, the blonde pulled out a crisp white button-down and handed it to him, his gaze turned towards the wall. Suddenly sobered, Call took the shirt from his hand and slipped into the connected bathroom to change. It took a few seconds to switch the shirts out, fasten the most important buttons, and ready himself to leave the confines of the bathroom.

Aaron was standing stiffly when he walked out, his eyes observant and cold. It took Call a moment to realize how nice he looked all cleaned up. His golden hair had been trimmed and he wore a fine black suit with a silken tie the colour of his eyes. He looked perfect in his suit, perfect with his haircut, perfect with his tie. He was also perfectly righteous in his anger against Call, and perhaps that was what irked him the most. How annoyingly perfect he seemed. No- how annoyingly perfect he was .

“You know, I said I didn’t expect anything from you guys,” Call began, a bit of unbidden anger rising into his voice. It sowed itself into the heart of his statement, unwelcome, but impossible to silence. “But the least you could do is tell me why you won’t say anything to me. I may be a monster, but I at least deserve that much.”

Aaron’s eyes flashed at his statement, the traces of anger Call had seen before finally revealed in a furious display, in the full breadth of its passion. His brows furrowed, and his breath slowed, his lips pulling into something Call could only describe as a snarl. He walked up to him, his steps slow and purposeful and upon nearing him, slammed an angry hand into the wall beside him. With his remaining hand, he forced Call to look up into his seething green eyes.

“You want to know why I’m mad?” Aaron asked, close enough that Call could hear the frenzied pounding of his heart. Close enough that he could feel the tremble of his hands. “I’m angry because you never got it! You still don’t get it! Tamara and I-”

“Get what?” Call stuttered, shaking his head and steadying his glare at the blonde. Despite being the one to ask for Aaron’s true feelings, he couldn’t help his own rising emotions.

“We always trusted you, Call. I knew there were things you couldn’t say, I knew you were always hiding something. You weren’t good at lying or hiding your secrets because you never wanted them in the first place.” Aaron inhaled sharply through his nose, his hands flailing about in some attempt to further explain his jumbled words. “You’ve always been Call. Figuring out what you are didn’t change that. It was just-  if we could have just …”

“You’re angry ‘cause you’re guilty?” Call questioned, watching as the blonde moved to rest his head on the wall beside him. He had hit the mark. “Because you feel guilty.”

Watching all the anger and emotion drain out of Aaron was akin to watching the winter wither away  the golden beauty of autumn, only to be left with dead, grey things in their midst. It was as if he didn't have the strength to continue. And the worst part was, Call knew what Aaron was feeling, he was familiar with it himself. He had just been so caught up in his own guilt, he forgot that Aaron was having to deal with everything too. He had never been taught to watch out for others so when it came to Aaron's suffering he hadn’t thought a single thing.

There was no great epiphany or revolution. With the combination of Drew’s death, Call’s betrayal, and Constantine’s revival Aaron was forced, just as Call had been, to make one choice or the other. He had known less than half of what Call knew about the frustrating situation and still, it was on his shoulders as the hero, to choose to do something or not. It always was. Aaron was probably drowning in a deeper abyss than Call could ever fathom.

“Call?” the blonde whispered, his shoulders sagging and gaze displaced. “You realize we’re supposed to kill each other, right? That's our fate?”

Call thinned his lips and looked towards his feet, suddenly cold without Aaron’s living warmth hovering over him. He had only thought about it a thousand times.

“What did you really see in the magical aptitude test?” Aaron pressed, his voice barely above a fleeting breath.

“I saw my mom, and that was followed by watching- by watching Jericho Madden burn alive,” Call muttered, his throat suddenly closing. He looked upward at the ceiling to escape the blonde’s burning gaze. “And then I saw you, uh- us . You put a sword to my neck and then I woke up.”

Call suddenly turned back to Aaron, his desire to know his expression stronger than his fear to live his life in ignorance. Aaron was staring back at him with the same fear, the same horror, the same understanding. They were two sides of the same coin.

“What did you see in yours?”

Aaron returned to looking him straight in the face, a sad sort of light entering his eyes. 

“I saw my dad at first, then I saw the northern star which Master Rufus later told me symbolized a ‘pillar of heaven’, whatever that means. And then I saw a dark haired person with raven wings.” Aaron ran a nervous hand through his hair, his lips downturned. “When I first met you in the castle I was sure that was you. What I didn’t realize was what it actually meant.”

Call stood silently for a moment, his gaze unseeing. 

“So all we have to do is not kill each other then, right? Or, not hate each other?” Call looked down towards his feet and then back at Aaron confidently. “I keep you from developing a messiah complex, and you keep me from accidentally summoning the hordes of hell and trying to destroy the entire world. We balance each other out, like yin and yang or something.”

“You’d be willing to work towards that? Together?”

Call shoved his hands in his pockets and pushed past Aaron to make his way to the door. With a careless shrug he looked over his shoulder and smiled. 

“I mean, if it's with you it can’t be that hard. If you’re willing to work with me even though I’m a...” Call mouthed the final word ‘vampire’, lowering his gaze once again; giving Aaron the final chance to be as uninvolved with him as possible.

As if blessed by some divine light, the blonde returned the smile, threats of silence and hatred long behind them both. 

“Together then.”

By the time both boys made it to the ballroom once again, the workers had been replaced by large crowds of people and the sound of strings echoed through the halls reminiscent of some age long past. Food and drink had been set up on the once bare tables and gaudy flower arrangements were set to accompany every lonely corner. Nearing the entrance of it all, Call’s feet stopped mechanically. A party in his honour. He had never imagined such an outcome. He didn’t deserve such an outcome. He couldn’t face all of these people. What if somebody could smell vampire?

“Call what are you waiting for?” Aaron asked, turning back to look at him. 

“My shoe is untied,” Call lied, looking down at his perfectly laced shoes. Aaron’s eyes followed. “Or- I mean, I’m looking for the bathroom?”

“Stage fright?” Aaron questioned, walking backwards to return to his side. Call wanted to laugh and say something witty, but the words felt lodged in his throat and he could only half-shrug and pretend he hadn’t heard the blonde. “Don’t worry. This is nothing like the trial. We don’t even have to say anything.”

Call laughed dryly at that. 

“So no more getting absolutely destroyed by Cardinal Graves, or whatever, right?”

“Oh, no,” Jasper answered instead, joining them near the exit to the ballroom with Tamara in tow. He wore a cream coloured suit with a matching bowtie. “Doesn’t matter where you are if that guy is in the room somebody’s getting roasted even if it's him.”

Tamara laughed lightly behind her hand and took Call’s arm walking him further in as Jasper pushed a fancy looking champagne glass into Aaron’s hand and followed after them. Flanked by familiar faces, Call didn’t even have time to worry about his nervous feelings.

“Your dad is the one going at it right now and lets just say they have quite the audience.”

Call looked between the crowds of people and paled as he caught sight of his father, his arms crossed and brows’ furrowed. Graves was standing opposite of him, half of Alistair’s height, but just as engrossed in the argument. Neither man seemed to notice Master Rufus move to stand before them clearing his throat. 

“Please, Alistair, Cardinal. Both Aaron and Call have arrived. I believe we are all ready to have the awards given out and the speeches delivered.”

Alistair scoffed, shaking his head.

“Oh, very well then.” Graves relented, grasping his hands behind his back. “We’ll have to continue this conversation on philosophy some other time, boy .”

“I would be alright leaving it unfinished.”

Master Rufus coughed into his hand as the strings of the orchestra echoed louder in the ensuing silence and put a guiding hand on Alistair’s shoulder, leading him back to where he and the other “heroes” all stood about. Alistair’s furrowed brow only lessened as he neared Call, a tense smile replacing his frown.

“Come now everyone,” Master Rufus said, making a beeline toward the stage. 

“You’re the only person I’ve ever seen with the guts to argue with Cardinal Graves,” Jasper said, seeming to appraise Alistair with both his words and gaze.

“He’s the only person I’ve met who argues attempted genocide is moral so we’re both shocked, kid.”

Aaron’s eyebrows disappeared under his bangs and Call matched his expression with half as much incredulity. 

“You and your dad are so similar,” Tamara remarked, placing a hand on her temples. “It's no wonder you say all the things you do when your dad is like this .”

“That's a compliment, right?” Call asked, walking up the narrow steps toward the stage. At least a dozen chairs had been set up there, and Call had only thought he, Alistair, and his four friends were to be honoured. Apparently the Order had other ideas. 

After they had all been seated, Havoc at Call’s feet of course, what seemed like an entire horde of pompous looking folk came to sit in the remaining seats around them, all wearing some shade of green. When the first man went up and spoke on his great contributions to Aaron’s journey, Call knew he was going to be in for a long ceremony. It was near halfway over, or at least he hoped it was, when Aaron’s head drooped dangerously low, and Call had to hold in his laughter. Tamara was quick to slap his leg, swiftly and silently enough to make the blonde snap straight back up, but Call visibly saw Master Rufus pinch the bridge of his nose when that happened. It was probably the most interesting thing that occurred in the entire duration of the ceremony. 

Once they stood for the thousandth time, received their last standing ovation, and had finally been released from the stage, Call finally broke from his stupor and looked up at his dad. 

“We’re home free,” he said, the realization as liberating as it was jarring. It had been over a year since he had ever felt anything near the word.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Alistair replied, downing his randomly acquired champagne glass in one go. “Soon as tonight’s over, we’ll be on our way.”

Call mustered a small smile and turned to look back at his friends. Tamara had pulled Aaron in for a dance almost as soon as the ceremony had finished and they still seemed to be in the heat of their current waltz. Jasper sat a ways from the dance floor, his gaze obviously on the pair and a similar, thin glass in between his fingers. He didn’t look crass like he usually did- instead his gaze seemed contemplative, thoughtful almost. That was a pretty big step up for Jasper.

  “I’ll just go and check on him, I guess,” Call said to his dad, motioning toward Jasper’s direction. Alistair grunted an affirmation, shoving his free hand in his pocket and heading back towards the refreshments table. He didn’t seem to like events like these very much and Call wasn’t one to disagree with him. He neared Jasper’s lonely table and dropped into the seat beside him. “Don’t wanna dance?”

Jasper swirled the amber liquid in his cup and set it down with enough force to make it whirl a few times. His bow tie was no longer around his neck but on the table instead, the first few buttons of his shirt undone. 

“I’ve got better stuff to do,” he muttered without further explanation, his eyes still trained on Aaron and Tamara. After a moment of watching them, his gaze flitted guiltily back to his glass. “Why aren’t you dancing?”

“Do I look like I dance to you?” Call asked, shaking his head as if the very idea of the statement was completely ridiculous. Without Jasper’s eyes to meet, he found himself looking out at Tamara and Aaron too. Their graceful steps, their beauty, their twirling forms in perfect tandem with one another. When Call had danced with Aaron in his dream it had been a complete mess.

The final notes of the song rang out, and Aaron dipped Tamara low, her arms still grasped tightly around his neck.

“We should go out to the balcony.” Jasper said, standing before his statement was even finished. He half pushed in his chair, and grabbed Call roughly by his arm. “It's stuffy in here anyway.”

Despite his distaste at being pulled around by anyone, Call let himself be. Fresh air was beneficial to everyone, vampires included. That's what he told himself at least. He hadn’t really wanted to see how that scene ended either. 

Jasper only released him when they were outside, the crowds of people and light a distant thought to the cool night. Crickets chirped to their own symphony on Ecclesia’s trimmed lawns, and the light of the moon made the blades of grass glitter with their own luminance. It was better in the quiet. Jasper leaned over the railing, his hands clasped together and eyes cast upwards toward the shining moon. As the wind brushed through his hair, Call could practically see a memory replaying itself before his eyes- a memory of his dad presumably. 

“I’ve decided I’m not gonna look for my dad,” Jasper began, no longer looking upwards. He stared at his hands instead, avoiding Call’s gaze determinedly. “I’ve only grown up going to school at Ecclesia, and it's not like there's anywhere I could start either…Even if I could find him, what would I even do then? No one would take him back anyways.”

Call didn’t know how to respond to Jasper. The closest thing he could even relate it to was losing Alistair in the castle: that awful time period when he didn’t know if his father had lived or died… During that time he had wanted nothing more than to find his dad and to hold the last remaining family he had close, but Jasper and his family were different. Jasper and his mom lived in the same house but spent a majority of their time away from each other. His dad wasn't even a real part of his family anymore.

 Before Call had a chance to think of something to say, Jasper spoke again, leaning heavily on the balcony’s railing. 

“Tamara looked really beautiful tonight, huh?”

“I guess,” Call relented, gazing up at the sky for his own answers. It seemed as dark and empty as ever. “You guys all look pretty different from how you usually do with the clothes and the hair and everything.”

“This is her- no, their world. Dressy clothes, parties, praise,” Jasper leaned backwards; the emotion in his eyes pained and fleeting, his words a taunt. “ Being the council’s lapdog isn’t  exactly ideal. You don’t have to try and be like them, Call.”

Call blinked up at him, the cool night air suddenly whipping and cold against his exposed skin. 

“What-”

Havoc bounded through the loosely closed doors, breaking the barrier of solitude that had separated the balcony from the ballroom. Music, food, and light spilled back into the night air, staining the coveted silence with the golden sounds of strings. Call flashed a cursory look of questioning to Jasper, but received less than acknowledgement in return.

“We were looking for you two!” Tamara exclaimed, Aaron beside her, grinning. “There's something I want to show you guys!”

When Call didn’t immediately respond, Aaron stepped forward, the lack of light making his eyes appear more blue than green. 

“Everything okay guys?”

“We’re at a party, aren’t we, Stewart ?” Jasper asked, pocketing one hand and slapping Aaron on the shoulder with the other as he passed him. “Of course we’re fine.”

“We’re great,” Call mumbled sarcastically, more confused than dismayed. He managed a fake smile to placate Aaron and walked past him to stand beside Tamara. “So what's the big deal?”

“There's somewhere I want to take you guys,” Tamara reiterated, the happiness in her eyes dulled by Jasper’s retreating form. She crossed her arms and raised her voice loud enough so Jasper could hear.  “All four of us.”

“I’m just grabbing my drink, Tammy , yeesh.” Jasper crossed his arms behind his head and grinned at her like nothing in the world was wrong. “Am I  allowed to do that Miss Rajavi ?”

“Grab your juice, and let's go already!”

Tamara ushered them through the crowds of people mulling about, and ignored anyone that tried to grab ahold of her or Aaron’s attention for a conversation. Once they were through with the ballroom, they went down multiple hallways, passing by the infirmary and a handful of classrooms Call vaguely recognized. That was until they came to a dead stop in front of the boy’s bathroom. 

“We passed by ten different bathrooms, couldn’t you have used the first one we passed instead of leading us up ten flights of stairs?” Call asked, furrowing his brow. If his leg had been in its original condition he would have been winded from their flight.

“This is a boy’s bathroom,” Aaron said, looking at Call and then Tamara with a vague expression of concern. 

“Dumb and Dumber,” Jasper laughed, any of the previous tension Call had seen completely erased from his tone and posture. Jasper had always been scarily good at hiding his feelings. “We’re here because of the hidden doors in this specific bathroom. I expected better of you, Call. You were supposed to be my protégé.”

“Hmm, I don’t know, when I usually see a student failing at something, I blame the teacher,” Call began, nodding at Aaron. The blonde shrugged mirthfully in response.

“Into the bathroom you guys!” Tamara said, leading the way into the restroom boldly like they were on a top secret mission to save the world. 

Call was pretty sure wherever the bathroom path led them to wasn’t going to be world-changing. Bladder-changing, maybe, but anything further than two rolls of toilet paper was already two rolls too far. 

“In the third stall,” Tamara began explaining as she walked, throwing open the door when she neared it. “There’s a vent above that leads right over Cardinal Grave’s temporary Ecclesia office.”

Call blinked once slowly.

“Do you really think big guy Belmont over here is gonna fit in a vent?” Jasper asked, chuckling. 

“Wait, why do we even want to get into his office?” Call questioned.

“Because after important parties like this, the Cardinal always goes to his office to deliberate over what the church is going to do next.” Tamara said definitively. “It was through this vent that Aaron and I both found out about Ecclesia’s old plan for Drew. Ecclesia’s ventilation system is old and large. It’ll probably be a little tight, Jasper, but we’ll fit.”

“It’ll also help us better protect you, Call, when you return next year.” Aaron added, nodding.

Call felt his stomach drop. He hadn’t expected Tamara and Aaron to want to be his friend after everything that had occurred, much less think about ways to protect him and his lies. Not that he even had expected to return to Ecclesia the following year. His dad probably wouldn’t even consider it. 

“We need to hurry and head up if we want to catch something,” Tamara said, motioning Aaron to stand atop the toilet. “I saw Graves leave the ballroom while we were still dancing so there's a good chance he’s already in there!”

After Tamara’s explanation, Aaron, being the tallest, stood on the toilet seat and opened the vent with ease, reaching down to offer a hand. 

“Who wants to go first?” 

Once they all managed to get inside the vent, Call couldn’t help but notice that Tamara’s description of a “large ventilation system” wasn’t actually all that large. It might have been large if he weren’t smushed between Aaron’s shoulder and the precariously thin metal wall next to him. Every time he moved, they bumped shoulders and would look at each other with nervous laughter in their eyes.  

“Can’t believe Tamara said this place was ‘large’,” Call whispered, even though his attempt at secrecy failed as his voice echoed in the vent. 

“We have plenty of space up here,” Jasper said, looking back to wave his hand between the space he and Tamara had in between.

“It felt bigger last time we came,” Aaron muttered.

“Quiet, all of you!” Tamara demanded, her voice louder than them all. 

With their chatter silenced, Call could make out the sound of two raised voices, both quite familiar. Tamara carefully led them to another vent and both she and Jasper turned to allow them to look down through the slotted opening. Graves was standing across from Alistair, their seats abandoned as well as their facade of calm. As Call leaned in to listen, he finally began to understand what was occurring beneath him.

“You will not be allowed to leave The Order until you comply with what was asked of you. Callum Hunt must return to Ecclesia next year, and you must accept a retainer so that Ecclesia can ensure you do not stick your nose where it does not belong again, Alistair Hunt.”

“I am a grown man, I’ve never needed the church to watch me and Callum is my son. It's my choice as his father to decide what's going to happen to us and I sure as hell am not letting him stay here.”

Aaron gave him a quick look, but Call pretended to focus on the scene occurring below them.

“You’ve harassed the church for over two decades, boy!” Graves cried, shaking his wrinkled fist in Alistair’s face. “Your son showed up here for a single year and nearly did as much damage as you did in ten! Do you really think we can afford to just let you off with nothing but a slap on the wrist?”

Jasper stifled an obvious laugh to which Call flicked him on the head for, smirking. 

"It wasn't just me."

“Hey, Aaron’s laughing too!” Jasper complained.

“Shhhh!” Tamara hushed them, leaving Call to only glare at the chuckling blonde.

The sound of the door opening silenced them as two other people walked into Graves’ office, uninvited. It took them a moment before they came into view and Alistair turned his hateful gaze towards them instead of the Cardinal. A tall woman with gleaming silver hair and strikingly red lips walked forward into view. She stood taller than Alistair in her studded stilettos and white off the shoulder gown.  

“Alistair Hunt, Phillip, it's a pleasure to see you both again,” she greeted, her voice as cold as ice.

“That's Anastasia Tarquin,” Tamara whispered, her eyes wide. 

Alistair opened his mouth, some angry sort of retaliation on his lips until yet another person came into view; it was a man this time. He wore thick round spectacles, hiding his eyes, and had hair the colour of burnt umber. His hair was the only hint of darkness on his otherwise pristine appearance for his skin was near translucent and his robes moon-white. A beaded cross hung down his neck. He looked like a clergyman that had walked straight out of the eighteenth century.

“A pleasure to finally meet you, dear Alistair, may god favour us both on our now intertwined paths,” the man reached forward to grasp his father’s hand tenderly. “It's not often the Divine brings people from so far away together… Might fate be at play?”

“Don’t believe in fate, or in any of that other bullshit,” Alistair growled, pulling his hand away violently. “You can’t force any of this on us Graves. Call is not returning and Johnathon Edwards here isn’t coming anywhere near my house. I’d rather invite a satanist.”

Call felt his eyes widen. If Alistair was being sarcastic then he was really mad. 

“We’re not asking, Alistair,” Anastasia said, her voice retaining its cool composure. It was the exact opposite of Alistair’s current tone. “You comply or face the charges of your crimes. You’re only acquitted if you obey our requests wholly.”

Alistair shook his head, a darkness settling over his features. He took a large breath and stared Graves’ down. 

“You’ve seen the damage I’m capable of doing and we both know I can outrun this entire damned church if Call and I were to make a break for it… Knowing this, I’ll accept your terms but only if you accept my conditions.”

Graves raised a thin, fraying brow. 

“One: Call isn’t required to go to those monthly health and blood checks you do on other students. I don’t want any of your doctors or scientists picking or prodding him with anything. Second, you can send this guy to follow me, but he can’t come into the house unless I invite him of my own accord. His lodging and wellbeing shouldn’t have to be on my bill. Lastly, the minute Call gets hurt in any way is the moment this entire ‘understanding’ is over.”

“Done,” Anastasia replied, speaking before Graves even had a chance to put his flabby gums to use.

“Alright, now give me a timeline,” Alistair said, crossing his arms. “How long do I have to put up with this?”

Graves chuckled a bit, before clasping his hands behind his back and giving Alistair a sneer. 

“Well, only until your son graduates.”

Chapter Text

Call took a sharp breath in, his skin tingling in the golden sun above. He was wearing a thin tank top which provided little protection for his pale skin, but in a situation like this what else could he wear? Alastair stood opposite of him, wearing similarly worn attire. He currently stood painfully still with his feet an arms-width apart and gaze stern. His glasses were long gone and Call could read the words in his gaze easily: Not a sound . 

They circled around each other slowly, each of their footsteps silenced by the soft, yellowing grass underfoot. Havoc stood in the centre of their circle, his ears pricked forward and nose towards the sky. The dog’s yellow eyes followed the movement of both human and vampire, his hackles raised and tail straight up. Alastair clenched the hose in his hand, his knuckles white and other hand gripping the water spigot tightly.  

“Alastair--” Rufus began, opening the door to their backyard, but his words were drowned out by the sudden amount of water pressure that was released from the hose Alastair was holding- and even more by the shriek of a howl Havoc let out. 

The dog leapt backwards, straight into Call’s arms who held him as best he could as Alastair took the opportunity to finally hose the dog down. Havoc was still bigger than Call, who had undergone a growth-spurt this summer that still didn’t put him anywhere near Aaron’s height, which often resulted in bath time ending up like something more like an ambush. If there was one thing Havoc absolutely detested it was clean water; he didn’t seem to have any problem swimming in any dirt-filled lake.

“The shampoo!” Call shouted, struggling to contain the squirming animal. Havoc howled in his face something that sounded painfully close to betrayal. Call laughed darkly to himself. This was payback for all the times the wolf had chosen to sleep next to Aaron instead of him.

“I’ve got it!” Aaron exclaimed, dashing through the backdoor holding the bottle of shampoo like it was a divine artifact. The blonde looked between Alastair and Call for a second as if he couldn’t figure out who to run to and then jogged over to Call, his tanned skin healthy and glowing in the sunlight. He had grown some too over the past few months, not that Call was paying attention. He looked all tall, broad shouldered, and handsome, just as a hero should look.  “How should I…?” 

“Rock Riot!” Tamara shouted, causing an enclosure of jagged rocks to sprout from the ground like plants. Call shook his head fondly and finally released Havoc within the rock formation and then followed after him, leaping over the outcropping of rocks with angelic grace. That's right, as he grew into his body he was beginning to become more and more familiar with his vampiric abilities. Aaron wasn’t the only pro-athlete around anymore. 

“Took you long enough!” Call laughed as Havoc dodged around Call’s legs to avoid Aaron and the honey-oatmeal shampoo he held. 

“I was going to come immediately, but then I saw that Jasper was trying to make lemonade,” she explained, taking the hose from Alastair's hand and drawing the water from it delicately. She approached them with mirth in her eyes and a growing orb of water hovering over her outstretched fingertips. Havoc looked scared. “You know I couldn’t just leave him in there. He can’t make anything and I couldn't let him destroy your kitchen. Not after your dad let us stay.”

“My lemonade is gourmet, Tamara ,” Jasper said, finally joining them outside. He wore a dark pair of sunglasses and floral khaki shorts and immediately went to sit down where Master Rufus and Alastair had retired. 

“Aren’t you gonna go help them?” Alastair asked, raising a lazy brow at the boy.

 Jasper took a long sip from his glass and shrugged, waving his hands around as if he was saying something important. 

“I am helping them. What’s more important than moral support?” With that Jasper set down his glass and cupped his hands around his mouth. “You're doing great, Tamara! Aaron, you could probably do better! Call, aren’t your eyes supposed to be on Havoc?”

With his effort expended, he immediately relaxed back into his chair, reclaiming his cup, and giving Alastair the tired smile of one who had already done their best and worked their hardest. 

“Could that really be called ‘support’?” Rufus asked no one in particular, a bemused expression on his face. Alastair let out a dry laugh and fell back into his own chair. 

“Ecclesia-styled ‘support’, I would say,” Alastair laughed, shaking his head. It was Rufus’s turn to scoff. 

“While you guys were busy sitting here, we managed to give Havoc an entire bath.” Call announced, his hands on his hips. He felt extremely proud of their feat and couldn’t help the victorious smile that edged its way onto his lips. 

“And we dried him,” Aaron added, arriving at his side, sharing his smile. They were both dripping wet, smelling more like outside and dog than Havoc did. “He’s squeaky clean.”

“But unfortunately, we’re not now.” Tamara muttered, joining them on the porch. She was twisting her braids and watching an inane amount of water drip from them. 

“Well I’m sure you all know the drill,” Alastair said, flipping open his cell phone to view the screen. Call sighed and narrowed his eyes at the ancient piece of technology. “Try and be out before 6:30, dinner will be ready by then.”

“No need to ask me twice,” Tamara said, rushing in without another thought. 

Call couldn’t help but linger a moment, eyeing his dad. 

“You should get a new phone. You know, a real one that actually has a signal and texting capabilities.”

“I’ll get a new phone when you decide to clean up the front yard. Havoc’s left plenty of surprises for you and the neighbours out there.” Alastair smiled a bit as Call pouted. “Go on, head inside. Your friend made you lemonade.”

“Did you repair that phone yourself?” Aaron asked excitedly, crouching to examine the device in his father’s hands. Alastair looked surprised at Aaron’s interest before a growing light gleamed in his own eyes. 

“Yeah, I just bought an old model online and patched it up… But if you're interested in this sort of thing, I could show you a few things in my garage.” Alastair scratched the back of his head in a sheepish manner. “Call’s never been interested, but if you and Rufus are gonna hang around for a while, you might as well spend your time learning something.”

Aaron looked between Rufus and Alastair for a moment as if he wasn’t sure Alastair was still speaking to him and when Rufus shrugged in some show of agreement, the blonde practically radiated happiness. 

“If you have the time, Mr. Hunt, I would really appreciate it, sir. I- I don’t actually know all that much about fixing stuff, but…”

As Aaron continued to ramble on, Jasper pulled Call’s arm sharply and let his glasses slide down his nose so he looked like an all-knowing, sinister character from some drama. 

“Whose golden retriever died and reincarnated into him ?”

“The same one whose grouchy, snide cat died and reincarnated into you.”

Jasper glared at him, a fond smile on his lips and his voice barely above a whisper. 

“Touche, my fanged friend, touche.”

After cleaning himself up, Call found himself laying on his bed, his magicked ring twisting between his fingers in something akin to wonder. Jasper sat at his desk, spinning himself in a swivel chair, while he scrolled endlessly on his mobile. Aaron stood in his connected bathroom, still toweling his blonde hair dry while Tamara sat at the foot of his bed retying her braids.  Only Havoc sat alone, his nose towards the door and paws placed atop each other. He was still very dejected about getting a bath. 

With summer in full swing, Call had to admit he had grown accustomed to having so many people crowding his room. Well, he really couldn’t say they were just people anymore- it would be better said he was used to having his friends around. That wasn’t something he would have called normal a few years ago. 

“So what's junior year at Ecclesia like?” Call asked, directing the question at no one in particular. Even with all of them in on his secret, he couldn’t risk being too prepared. He had been through Dracula’s Castle once and learned his lesson. 

“It’ll be difficult,” Tamara said, propping her head onto his bed to look him in the eye. “Junior year students have it the hardest every year.”

“Coliseum, right?” Jasper asked, his eyes still on his phone. Tamara nodded, folding her arms together. 

“Coliseum?” Aaron repeated once again, seeming to be just as confused as Call was. At least they were in the same boat.

“What, they can’t be like, pitting students against each other, right?” Call laughed a bit to himself for a moment until he realized that none of his friends were saying anything. Then he sat up, his attention fully on the conversation. “They make all the juniors fight against each other? I knew this school was old-fashioned, but man, they’re making Sparta look modern.”

Aaron made a bemused face like he wanted to laugh at Call, but his brow creased before his face had the chance to express it. 

“What's the point of making us fight? What if someone gets hurt?”

“It's for the Collegium,” Tamara sighed, her eyes distant. “Scouts from all over the world come to watch the matches between the students and we- I mean, junior year students, make a really big deal about it. These matches practically determine our future.”

“They determine your future if you let it determine it,” Jasper murmured, his finger still scrolling on his phone even though his eyes were fully glued to Tamara. She seemed to feel his gaze, but didn’t meet it. 

“What if you don’t want to participate?” Aaron asked leaning on the doorframe, his eyes downcast. 

“It's not as bad as it sounds,” Tamara tried, hugging her knees to her chest. “All of the matches occur in a controlled environment, and there are teachers watching to make sure no one gets hurt. It’s all for the sake of assessing skill and prowess.”

“So we have to participate then? Great.” Call sighed, crossing his arms beneath his head. He didn’t want to point out the fact it seemed like Tamara was actually okay with the idea of making literal children fight each other because it seemed like something she, by herself, would be opposed to. Tamara had a strong sense of justice when it came to everything. It just seemed when it came to anything regarding Ecclesia, that same sense might be slightly skewed. 

“Hey, on a completely different topic,” Jasper began, leaning back in his chair, his eyes still on Tamara. “I’ve been searching the entire internet for that weird island Master Joseph gathered us all on, and I can’t find shit about it, and I just couldn’t help but wonder… How did you guys end up tracing us all the way there?”

Tamara sat up, seemingly relieved to be done talking about their upcoming year, and smiled proudly. Call wondered if Jasper had changed the topic with her specifically in mind.

“Call dropped that letter at some point in time, and Aaron and I got a hold of it and followed the path. Simple and Clean.”

“No, that's impossible.” Call stated, retaining his relaxed posture. “The original letter was sent from my dad to Master Rufus, who I stole it from. Master Rufus never saw the letter- nobody did. Ecclesia would have gone crazy if they had read it.”

“Well, Master Rufus ended up seeing the letter,” Aaron muttered, a hand at his neck. “Alex is the one who found your letter in the beginning and gave it to us, but I ended up dropping it in front of Master Rufus which is probably how he ended up making it there in the end.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jasper said, waving his hands to stop the conversation from continuing. “You guys are completely missing the point here. If there was only one letter and you guys got one, while Ecclesia still didn’t know about it, doesn’t that mean there was a third party?”

“You mean a third party that was aware of Joseph’s plan, but was also an active part of Ecclesia?” Tamara clarified, her hand to her chin.

“A mole.” Aaron said, staring straight ahead.

“Hey, wait a second, aren’t we jumping like ten too many conclusions here? How do we know Ecclesia didn’t go through my dad’s letter and just, I don’t know, take ten years to send out forces to do anything about it?” Call asked, his brows furrowed. “If they thought it was important they totally would have made copies and informed the staff, right?”

“They only would have been able to scan the letter if it went through their mail system. If your dad delivered that letter personally to Rufus, there would have been no way.” Tamara said, blinking thoughtfully.

“Why don’t we go ask him?” Aaron said, already pulling the door open. Havoc pushed at the blonde’s hand, apparently eager to be free of Call’s room himself. 

“Dad!” Call called from the top of the stairs, coming to a slow stop as he belatedly realized his father was aready engaged with someone. 

It was the weird clergyman Ecclesia had assigned them. The church had somehow paid off the Miles family and gotten them to move out to who knew where and somehow gotten this guy to move in right next door. 

Call had never been particularly fond of them, as neighbours or people, but he would have the Miles over the clergyman any day.

“Ah, the dear children have arrived,” the clergyman said, his arms spread wide as if he was expecting a hug. Call grimaced openly. “We shouldn’t keep them hungry, let us dine together.”

“I didn’t invite y-” Alastair began, but Rufus patted him on the shoulder amiably as if to help him tolerate the annoyance. His dad shook his head as if he was at his last straw and looked him over. “What's up, kiddo?”

“I’m sixteen,” Call said heavily, before lowering his voice. “Do you remember that letter you sent to Master Rufus last year? That one with the coordinates?”

“Coordinates? Last year?” Alastair closed his eyes and thought for a moment, before recognition sparked in his eyes. “I remember.”

“Yeah, so like, I was wondering if you sent that through the mail or if you, I don't know, broke into Ecclesia and put it on his desk yourself?”

“I hand-delivered it.” Alastair assured him, nodding his head. He spoke in a loud enough voice that the intruding clergyman could hear them.“There was sensitive information in that thing. Couldn’t risk the Church getting their beady eyes on it.”

“You broke into Ecclesia during the school year?” Tamara asked, suddenly wide-eyed herself. “Isn’t that the most high security time?”

Alastair smiled ruefully, pulling his chair out to sit in while shrugging helplessly. He spoke as if the outcome had been inevitable, like someone would have broken in even if he hadn't. He wasn't exactly wrong.

“If I couldn’t even breach their security system, I don’t think I would be worthy of calling myself Constantine Madden’s best friend for north of ten years.”

The clergyman froze for a second as if he didn’t expect to hear something like that spoken aloud, and Rufus simply shook his head, his disappointment evident.

“Alastair, you do not typically flaunt such things… Please do not tease Magnus. He is only here on his superior’s order.”

“Your name is Magnus ?” Jasper asked, ridicule evident in his voice. He was the first one in their quartet to actually brave the dining room, and the first to actually address the cleric.

“Magnus Aurelius,” the man said, standing to take a sweeping bow. His arm almost hit Alastair in the motion, his father barely flinching out of the way to avoid being hit by the gaudy gesture. “It is a true pleasure to make each of your acquaintances.”

When Jasper’s judgemental stare got a little too painful to bear, Aaron hurried forward to take a seat and smile nervously. Both  Call and Tamara followed suit.

“It's, uh, nice to meet you too!”

Alastair scoffed so loud that Call had to glance over and make sure he hadn’t choked. 

“Well, if we’re finished with introductions than lets go ahead and eat--”

“But we cannot begin without blessing the food!” Magnus exclaimed, looking toward Rufus for support. Call couldn’t help but glance at his own dad and try to stifle his laughter: Alastair’s expression was so blackened he looked near ready to implode. “Come, let us all take a hold of each others’ hands…”

“Absolutely not--” Alastair tried, but Magnus swiftly grabbed his wrist and spit out a prayer near the speed of light before releasing him and smiling pleasantly.

“Now let us begin!”

At first, Call had thought that a completely silent dinner might have been bearable. When it was just him, his dad, and Havoc they often sat in what he assumed to be a comfortable sort of quiet. But this, this dinner had made Call realize just how slow the seconds passed when time was dragging its feet. Even Havoc didn’t dare whine for a single piece of food in an effort to not shatter the wall of awkwardness that had formed while they ate.

Call kept making eye contact with his friends down the table, to try and convey some sort of last-ditch attempt at starting a conversation, but no one seemed to be able to understand him.

“So, if sanity is just the idea of not being insane and insanity is simply the deviation from the social construct of sanity, then can we truly differentiate between the terms?” Magnus asked suddenly, placing his utensils uniformly beside his plate. He had somehow already finished eating his entire plate of pasta, chicken, and bread in under five minutes. Maybe time wasn’t dragging its feet, maybe Call’s perception was behind a few minutes.

Behind on time or not, that specific factor did little to actually make Magnus’s question any easier to answer or follow up with anything. Aaron made a confused, painful expression at Call as silence followed the clergyman’s question.

“And where would you place yourself on that scale?” Alastair asked, his teeth scraping on the cutlery. Call couldn’t even tell if his dad was mad or not anymore.

“Well, I’m sure I’m as sane as at least half the given population.”

Call did his best not to send his garlic bread flying from his mouth as he turned to Tamara, shocked.

“Is he sure?”

“Well, Magnus, if sanity and insanity are simply ideas depicting typical and atypical behaviour then, in the example of the court of law, when two men plead guilty and one is to have also pleaded insanity, under the presumption there is no difference, would their differing sentences not be unjust?”

Magnus lifted his napkin to tap at his face delicately, also choosing to laugh lightly behind the paper before setting it down. 

“Oh dear, while learn-ed you may be, you’ve failed to take one thing into account: we’re all insane. Physical and Metaphysical entropy have already guaranteed our descent into chaos and corroded our human societies. What--”

“Is anyone interested in dessert?” Alastair interrupted, placing his cutlery down with a little too much force. Call blinked toward Jasper rapidly, unsure of what else he could convey while still remaining discreet. 

“We are not all insane!” Tamara said with finality, clutching her fork. Alastair sighed and began collecting his dishes. 

“So where are you from?” Aaron asked suddenly, desperate to change the topic at hand. Call had to think through every motion of chewing to ensure he didn’t accidentally end up choking on something and dying of suffocation despite the fact he didn’t need breath. 

“I’m from just next door,” the clergyman replied, winking. 

When Jasper started coughing, Call took it upon himself to place a supportive hand on his shoulder and pat his back.

“That- that's great,” Aaron agreed, peeking at them through the corner of his eye. 

“And while the dinner has been lovely, I must admit that my time has come to depart--”

“Thank god, help yourself out, you should know where the front door is,” Alastair said without a hint of shame. Rufus sighed wearily, resting his head in his hands. 

Once Magnus had satisfied himself with honeyed farewells and a lot more lingering than was necessary, Alastair finally shut the door and locked it with the motions of someone who was more than a little frantic. 

He dragged a hand down his face before sighing deeply. 

“Never again, Rufus. Never. ”

Chapter Text

Summer, in all of its golden, blinding beauty, ended far too fast for Call to realize he even had something to lose. He didn’t know what exactly he was losing aside from painfully sun-filled days and sleeping in, but something within him ached. Or maybe it was just that it felt like something along the lines of deja-vu was occurring, but really, things couldn’t have been more different from the way things had ended last summer. The only similarity was that he was going back to Ecclesia instead of public school. That was the only thing, wasn’t it? 

Contrary to last summer, Call hadn’t run away to anyone’s house, he hadn’t done anything that had potential to leave him wallowing in extreme regret, and most importantly, he didn’t feel like he was walking to his sudden death. He didn’t want to admit it to anyone, but attending some weird, fantastical magic school like Ecclesia sounded pretty fun- the coliseum not factored into that conclusion. At least when he wasn’t taking his identity as Dracula into account. 

But all things aside, the biggest difference definitely had to be the fact that everyone he wanted to be standing behind him was , and they were doing so knowing his secret. Even Alastair was somewhat supportive of his decision to attend. At least he didn’t seem that mad, Call couldn’t really tell with how focused he was on driving. 

That was where they were suspended in time for the moment, driving on an endless road, with cloudless blue sky smiling down on them. Call still wouldn’t smile back at the sky, but he wasn’t scowling anymore either so there was that. Could it be that things might actually be looking up for once in his life? As soon as the thought crossed his mind, Alastair hit a pothole in the road, smacking the top of Call’s head on the roof of the car and answering his question rather promptly: it was best to not be too positive. 

“You okay?” Alastair asked, shaking his head and looking over at him. “Ecclesia charges such a high tuition fee and can’t even fix their damn roads.”

Call let out a wry chuckle and rubbed between Havoc’s ears absentmindedly. His dad definitely didn’t sound happy, but they would make it through. At least he would finally have the time to restore his ruined antique collection. Even despite his and Aaron’s help during the summer, his past outburst had really done a lot of damage. Now and Again had been closed for what felt like forever.

As Call reminisced about home life, Alastair swerved around a roundabout and parked near Ecclesia’s drop-off lane. A woman walking directly in front of the car set off running as the Rolls-Royce neared, apparently afraid. Jasper snorted in the backseat loudly.

“We’re here.” Alastair said without an ounce of emotion. No, that wasn’t it, his dad was feeling plenty of emotion, he just wasn’t expressing it. Call was familiar enough to differentiate.

“I’ll, uh, I’ll get our stuff,” Call offered, hopping out and motioning for Jasper to follow. Alastair remained there in the driver’s seat for a moment, his gaze following Call while his hand remained on the gearshift. His eyes were slightly widened and fluttering, almost like he was at a loss for words.

“Hey,” Jasper said, pulling his luggage out in one easy motion. He looked down at his feet before giving Call an over-the-top smirk. “I’ve got DeWinter business to attend to so I’ll go ahead and head in. Make sure to tell your dad thanks from me.”

It was Jasper’s way of giving him and Alastair space. Call hadn’t even had to say anything, and Jasper just got it. Call mustered up the most genuine smile he could give the other boy. 

“Thanks, Jasper.”

Jasper looked at him with his brows furrowed and mouth agape before rolling his eyes and shaking his head like Call had the completely wrong idea. 

“Shut up!” He said in place of a farewell and Call could only let out a knowing laugh. 

After shutting the trunk, Call belatedly realized his dad was leaning near the rear tire, his hands pocketed and shoulders near his neck. His ashen eyes were looking towards that ever-blue sky, reflecting it in all its breadth, in all of its beauty. 

“You know your mom would have been really proud of you,” Alastair said, a cursory smile pulling at his lips. “I mean, I’m really proud of you too, I just thought…”

Call blinked at his dad, doubt at the forefront of his mind despite his desire to believe his father’s words. He shuffled forward a bit, suddenly awkward and unsure of himself. 

“Where’d this come from?”

“I was just thinking that, I know junior year here at Ecclesia is hard and that you don’t really have a choice to be here, so,” Alastair clasped his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze and left something clasped within his fingers. When Call looked down at the item, he realized it was a curved dagger that gleamed prettily in the sun. His eyes immediately flashed back to Alastair’s. “That was your mom’s favourite dagger. She called it Semiramis and made it with her own two hands… She always used to give that blade there the credit for getting her through her junior year so I guess I was just hoping it might go with you… For good luck.”

“This was her’s,” Call murmured, running a gentle finger down the hilt of the blade, his fingers catching over every etching. He could imagine a young Sarah doing the same thing, and perhaps even Alastair had clung to this tiny piece of metal, recalling old memories. Call shook his head suddenly, the weight of the past too heavy to bear. “But then- shouldn’t- shouldn’t you hold onto it? There's not a lot of stuff from mom left so-”

Alastair pressed his hand shut, a sad sort of smile forming on his lips as he placed a firm hand on his shoulder. 

“When you're finished with this year, you can come back and we’ll hold onto it together. How about that?”

Call mirrored his dad’s smile, leaning into the warmth of his touch.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Alastair gripped the mahogany wheel of his Rolls-Royce, his eyes blandly taking in the empty road ahead of him as well as the blurring green that passed him by in streaks. He had driven away from Ecclesia at least a thousand times. He had driven down this very path more times than he could count, with reasons less than good a majority of those times- and yet, this time was different. This time, despite how staunchly against the church he was, he felt relieved driving away from it. 

Ecclesia was without a doubt the cruelest, most hated organization he could think of, but as long as Call was there, safe and intact with Dracula’s powers, Constantine wouldn’t be able to reach him. And that was more than Alastair could promise in their little house in North Carolina. Because no matter how much he hated the church, he had to remember that when stuck between two evils, he would always have to choose the lesser one. He cursed himself remembering it was that very mentality that had gotten Sarah killed. 

But what more could a single person do? Call wouldn’t be able to live his life out the way he wanted if Alastair decided to uproot them and go on the run from the church. He would be bound to a life of running, and knowing how he was, he would never try to escape it. If Alastair had decided to go on the run, he was sure Call would unflinchingly follow. Sure he would complain and do all of his teenage-dramatics , but he was fiercely loyal, just like his mother.

Sighing, Alastair let his foot fall like a block of lead onto the accelerator, his memories clouding his thoughts. He and Sarah had driven down this path together so many times… She hadn’t cared for the car he spent over a year renovating for their family, she hadn’t cared about his expertise in mechanics either, or even about the fact it was a Rolls-Royce. She had only cared about the radio that Alastair hadn’t cared to fix. Every time they would get into the car she would ask about it, and when Alastair would shrug her off, she would take it upon herself to sing whatever song was on her mind. In her words, she had been, “Warding away the bad-driving spirits”. He could still hear her voice ringing in his ears like the sweet caress of a memory being brought to life again, like the sound of a lark flitting up above.

Alastair laughed aloud to himself, offering his hand over to the passenger seat, reaching for someone that was no longer there and then turned suddenly, surprised to find himself alone. He blinked, glancing in the rearview mirror for a familiar hoodie and scowl and finally broke himself out of his reverie. There was no one there. He was completely alone for once, and even with the cloud of memories that fogged his mind he knew what he had to do. There was only one way Call could be truly safe. He would have to walk straight back down memory-lane, and pull that same trigger that had nearly blasted a hole through his own heart. 

He was going to have to kill Constantine Madden… Again .

Chapter Text

The initial days of junior year were like nothing Call had ever experienced. There were no classes, no responsibilities, there was nothing but feasting and oddly medieval activities like jousting and stoolball . It was like an entire new world had been brought to life with raised tents and coloured flags, an entire ancient civilization had been raised from the dust in Ecclesia’s humongous courtyard.

They even gambled, trading items like weapons and snacks in place of currency and chips. Call had won a single black earring and nearly lost Havoc when his luck soured. Thank goodness Aaron carried his home-cooked goodness with him wherever he went. Call now owed him both his own and Havoc’s life. 

After that particular incident, they all took care to avoid the gambling den… Well, Call and Aaron had. Tamara seemed to have wicked luck with anything she touched and amassed more items then she could carry on her first few tries. Jasper said her die was loaded, but Call was pretty sure he was just jealous. Neither of them could come close to her prowess.

No matter which activities they indulged in during the day, they would leave Ecclesia’s transformed courtyard and return to the dining halls for dinner, and were always greeted with the sight of massive feasting tables, stacked to the brim with food and drink, the halls bubbling with the sound of laughter and jaunty music. Call couldn’t help but feel as if they were pigs being fattened up right before their inevitable slaughter, but he wouldn’t lie and say he wasn’t enjoying the time spent running about doing nothing. It felt like he hadn’t been a kid in forever. 

Call leapt onto his seat, and reached toward the centre of the table for the largest turkey leg he could rip for the third plate of Havoc’s six course dinner. The wolf sat on his own tufted dining chair, glittering silverware unused and his plate suspiciously clean, not even a bone in sight. He yapped at Call, eyes alight and tail wagging rhythmically with the sound of tambourine and lute, his eyes focused solely on the meat in his hand. 

“You know, feed Havoc anymore of that and he’s gonna be on the road to cardiac arrest,” Jasper laughed, cleaning out his teeth with a toothpick. He sat across the feasting table from Call, his angular face nearly hidden by a towering plate of fruit tarts and custard buns. 

“What's wrong with a high-protein diet?” Call asked, baring his teeth at the other boy and crossing his legs atop his chair. He grabbed a sweet bun and licked the dripping icing off his fingers before laughing himself. His body was already dead, maintaining a ‘nutritious’ diet was the least of his problems. “Me and Havoc are thriving .”

Tamara scoffed, shaking her head as she swallowed another cream puff in its entirety. 

“Nope, not thriving. You would’ve grown more if you had eaten more greens, Call. Look at Aaron, he eats his veggies instead of picking them off his plate and giving them to Havoc.” Tamara ruffled the wolf’s ears and shook her head. “At least someone’s benefiting from all the nutrition.”

Call mocked her scoff and placed a fruit tart dusted with powdered sugar on Aaron’s plate. 

“You can’t compare me to him! He literally eats whatever you put on his plate no matter what it is. Watch him when he comes back- I swear he won’t even ask who put it there.”

Aaron did return to his place setting beside Havoc, a fond smile still on his lips from his previous conversation and immediately reached for the tart, taking a small bite before looking back at his friends’ ever watchful gazes. His cheeks reddened.

“Uh, why're all of you so quiet? Is there something on my face?” Aaron’s eyes suddenly widened and he wiped a stray crumb from his mouth as his brow began to furrow. “Did I miss something important?”

Before either had the chance to explain, the sound of the music suddenly lowered along with the light of the flaming sconces. The raucous laughter and chatter lowered accordingly with the dimming lights, and Master North made his way onto the forefront of the stage. He wore garish navy robes that trailed behind him, and looked better fit to be someone's drapes rather than a clothing item. Call stifled a snicker at the thought.

“Welcome everyone to the beginning of your junior year here at Ecclesia! What you all have been experiencing these past few days is the traditional festival carried out before each of our annual Coliseum trials. A festival designed specifically to invigorate you before the first semester of your training begins!” Master North coughed then, clasping his hands behind his back in a manner that reminded Call of Master Rufus. He smiled then, a crooked, sad sort of smile that didn’t really seem to reach his eyes. “Unlike the previous years of Ecclesia you’ve attended, the first semester of your junior year will consist of prolonged combat training with a multitude of weapons and magic whereas the second semester of this year will consist of a physical display of these skills within the trials. Your first day of training will begin tomorrow at dawn so make sure to rest early, boys and girls.”

With a curt ending to his speech, Master North shuffled off the stage, his mumbling still loud enough to be heard. Despite having only attended a few of his lectures, Call knew it wasn’t like him to be so short, and instead turned back to his friends, his chin resting on his palm.

“So they really were fattening us up like pigs to the slaughter.”

“The correct quote is like, ‘lambs to the slaughter’ and no Call they were not fattening us.” Tamara shook her head and made a look at Aaron and Jasper as if she was ridiculing Call without actually verbally doing so. “The festival before the beginning of our junior semester is a traditional thing that occurs annually .”

“So they’ve fattened up generations of pigs to the slaughter?” Call corrected mirthfully. “Doesn’t that just make the entire thing worse?”

“That was not what I meant!” Tamara said, slamming her cup down and catching the attention of the recently silenced room. Call himself felt his eyes widen in mild shock, he had only been joking afterall. Tamara cleared her throat nervously, her hands nestled in her lap. “...Ecclesia isn’t like that. That's all I wanted to say. Anyways, I need to go talk to my sister.”

With her part spoken, Tamara flicked a braid off her shoulder and awkwardly made her wait out of the dining hall, her hands still clenched by her sides. 

“You know, between her and Aaron’s positivity, somebody had to be the realist, okay?” Call shrugged, half chewing on his fork, half waiting for someone to correct him.

“Positivity is a good thing Call.” Aaron said, an utterly confused look on his face.

Jasper snorted.

“Pretty sure what your idea of ‘realism’, Call is better defined as cynicism by the rest of the living , thinking population.” 

“Somebody should go after her,” Aaron declared, placing his own cup down with finality. When both Call and Jasper remained silent, he glanced between the two of them completely exasperated. “We can’t just leave her like that!”

 “When Tamara says she's gonna talk to her sister it's always to talk about me. If I went over there she would probably just get more mad,” Call explained whilst maintaining eye contact with Havoc the entire time. The wolf wagged his tail rhythmically to his explanation as if he truly understood each and every word. 

“I’ve been rejected enough in my life to realize the only one who can calm the big bad bear is Goldilocks so off you go,”Jasper murmured, cradling his chin with one hand while waving his other hand in farewell. 

Aaron let out a reluctant sigh and turned to follow after her before turning and scrunching up his nose. It vaguely reminded Call of when Havoc had first figured out what lemon tasted like. 

“You two… you’re not up to anything, right?” He looked between them, one brow quirked, his lips downturned. “You’re not secretly planning any adventures?”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be whisking away Captain Fishface anywhere outside of your reach, Mr. Belmont.” Jasper confirmed, turning to look at Call and wink. “Isn’t that right, Hunt?”

Call smirked in response.

“Sure.”

Chapter Text

Golden. Resplendent and bright like the shimmering of raindrops kissed by dawn, or of hope gleaming anew in one’s eyes. Gold was also the colour of sunlight. Aureate, glittering rays that gleamed far above their heads. The sun in all of its brilliance brought life to everything, and Aaron thrived alongside it all. A thin bead of sweat made its way down his forehead, beautiful as it was; the sun was relentless in its heat. He inhaled as a whistling wind coursed through his hair and across his skin. He distantly heard the sound of metal strike his sword, but it rang like bells in his ears, reminding him only of flowered groves and far off chapels. Everything became still then, as the wind caressed him to move once again and follow its wispy whims into the far horizon. Aaron had barely realized he had moved with it, his sword and body in complete unity, leaving his unlucky opponent to greet only dirt. 

“I thought you were gonna go easy on me, yeesh,” Call murmured, removing his face guard to look upwards at him. His dark hair was plastered to his face with sweat, his pallid skin showing no flush. “You don’t even need your whip, you could just off everybody with that blunt practise- sword.”

Training had begun three days ago, and of course the first weapon the Masters had chosen was a sword. That was how the entirety of the training semester was going to play out: every week was a different weapon combined with high-level obstacle courses and endurance training. The weapons chosen each week were designated by the Masters and also the only ones allowed to be used during the actual coliseum event. In Call’s words it was, ‘great that they’d only be killing each other with fifteen weapons instead of one hundred’, but Aaron personally thought it didn’t make the situation much better. Weapons were weapons regardless if they were limited. 

“Sorry Call, I lost focus,” Aaron murmured, rubbing his head sheepishly. It was bad enough that he zoned out by himself, but with Call as his partner it seemed to be happening more and more often. He reached out a hand to pull the shorter boy up. “You’re okay, right?”

“Peachy,” Call said, allowing Aaron to practically lift him back onto his feet. Aaron had been ready to laugh it off and comment, but Call suddenly took the chance to lean forward and cup his hands around his mouth discreetly. “We’ll see if you can still pull a win if we’re both going all out.”

Aaron cursed the high heavens his cheeks would annoyingly turn red at any sign of physical contact. It wasn’t like he was embarrassed or anything, his traitorous complexion just always felt determined to expose even the slightest turn of his emotions. And for some reason he seemed to be on high alert when it came to Call’s mysteriously cool touch. It was absolutely ridiculous. 

“I dunno Call,” Aaron laughed, moving back to his starting position. His sword felt like a comforting weight in his hand.  “You still don’t really seem to have a riposte down, yet.”

Call’s shoulders dropped at the comment, his dark eyes rolling as he leisurely spun the sword he was holding about in a careless circle. Despite his lack of experience, Aaron had realized Call’s affinity for combat all the way back in the castle. He was a natural even without his vampiric enhancements. Or at least the blonde thought he was. Truthfully, Aaron still wasn’t even all that clear on Call’s vampire timeline.

“Okay, listen, Aaron. I don’t need to riposte if I never parry ,” Call explained, accidentally whacking his sword into a wooden training post. Aaron nearly winced as he watched Call struggle to remove the sword from its position before simply leaning on the post as if he had intended it to be that way. Aaron bit his lip to stifle the laughter that wanted to rise from his chest. “And I also have zero plan of using a sword. So, who cares if I suck?”

“Boy and girls, begin from the start of your initial stances once again. This is not the time for idle chatter, it is the foundation of your basics. Do not take this time for granted.” Ms. Milagros said, a book tactfully clasped behind her back. She had always been a science teacher for as long as Aaron could remember, but come their junior year it seemed like she was teaching them sword techniques. It didn’t really seem right exactly.

“Where is Master Tanaka?” Tamara asked, sidling up to him in a very obvious manner and stating his thoughts aloud. She had the uncanny ability to do that sometimes. Her sword was missing from her hands too, her arms crossed in a very familiar manner. “Milagros shouldn’t be the one teaching us sword fighting! She might be qualified to teach about elementals, but any sort of melee-based art is far off.”

Aaron shrugged his shoulders, suddenly feeling a surge of empathy for the misplaced chemistry teacher. After Tamara’s comment, quite a few others turned to give their teacher an odd look as if she didn’t belong. Highschoolers were painfully adept at exclusion, as Aaron had come to learn.

“Tamara, maybe you should lower your voice a little…” Aaron prompted, rubbing his neck awkwardly.  She gave him a sharp look in response. 

“Miss Rajavi, just because your parents are on the counsel does not mean you may play around during instruction time, please return to your designated spot and--”

“Ms. Milagros, can we go on break, please?!” Rafe cried out, dropping his hand with the dramatic intensity of a student who had gone uncalled on for more than three seconds. “We haven’t got a break since, like, ten hours ago!”

Aaron lifted his sword, wiping a hand at his forehead and gave his friends a relieved smile.  He distinctly heard Ms. Milagros sigh behind him.

“Alright boys and girls, you are dismissed for lunch as soon as you wash up. Just remember we are not continuing practise this afternoon! Annual blood tests will be occurring so make sure you report to your given hallway!” 

Aaron turned, removing Call’s sword easily from the post and hesitated when he caught his expression. He had a look on his face that made him look as if he was the guiltiest person in the world. His eyes were wide and he was anxiously looking to each side in tell-tale signs of nervousness. His vulnerable expression was gone in a second. Aaron didn’t know if it was a habit he developed after becoming Dracula or if he had some other secret tormenting him. With Call it was pretty hard to tell.

“Man Call, what did you just witness? Did Tamara finally slap you?” Jasper asked cooly, his signature smirk on in full force. Aaron found a matching smile rise unbidden to his lips just at the sight of it. He liked when all four of them were together, on good terms and not lying.

Why were those three things so difficult to bring about?

“I had a vision of the future:” Call paused, chewing his lips thoughtfully. His dark eyes caught Aaron’s for half a second before flickering away to some other distant object. The blonde creased his brow at the sight of it. “Tamara smacking you, and in just a few minutes. I’ll bet on it.”

Call’s words drifted off into nervous chuckles as Tamara moved her hands to her hips, her brown eyes narrowed. It was an expression she used when she wasn’t angry, but was on the verge of being irritated, a place she always ended up at right before getting angry.  Aaron put a supportive hand on her shoulder and felt some of her tension wane away.  She wasn’t usually so wound up.

“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s earned it. But anyway, we’re done talking about this. I want to have a fun, normal lunch today? Please?”

“Of course it’ll be fun, I’m here aren’t I?” Jasper said, sauntering over with his hands pocketed in his training uniform. After ensuring he caught everyone’s attention, he swung his arm around Call’s neck and pulled him under his arm. Aaron could see Call’s eyes roll with fond annoyance. ”When has anything ever gone wrong with me?”

Call snorted in disbelief at the comment, nearly doubling over and bringing Jasper down with him.

“Well, you know Jasper, you get yourself in trouble pretty often with the things you say,” Aaron pointed out, shrugging. He tried his best to maintain an even tone so as not to come off as condescending, even if Jasper himself had no qualms about such things. 

“If even Aaron has something to say about it, then you can go ahead and sit yourself down, deWinter,” Call laughed, his eyes crinkling.

“Aaron really put it nicely- if anyone has a right to talk about all the things you’ve done, it's me .” Tamara said, slowing her brisk walking pace to fall beside Jasper. He gulped audibly and released Call from his hold before trying a grin. 

“Uh oh, I think we set her off…” Aaron murmured, falling back to stand beside Call. He didn't seem the least bit concerned about Tamara’s ongoing list of grievances. 

“Yeah, right, Aaron, that was done with a vengeance. You planned that.” Call accused, his own grin forming. 

Aaron had to stop walking at the comment, and pause to catch Call’s gaze. He lowered his voice and gave him a discreet wink, his tone teasing.

“You can't go around revealing my secrets to everybody, Call!”

Call laughed for a moment before matching his smirk. “And our audience is composed of a single wolf... Be careful Aaron, I can tell you that information's not safe with him.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Aaron affirmed, reaching to give his shoulder a firm squeeze. He smiled. “It's nothing.”

Aaron barely even had a moment to sit down and truly savour the flavour of the mushroom risotto that was waiting for him before being swarmed by conversation- and an important one at that.

“So then we basically confirmed there is a mole here, didn’t we?” Jasper asked, his spoon hanging out of his mouth and feet on the table. Aaron thought about chastising him, but instead took another bite of his lunch knowing Tamara had given him enough hell. There was something so delicious about the simple, buttery taste of mushroom and cream. Maybe he would be able to make some for Call later on in the year.

“I mean, yeah,” Call confirmed, picking his mushrooms out and putting them in a plate he would slip down to Havoc now and then. The teachers didn’t seem to have any problems with the large wolf stalking the banquet floors. Aaron slipped  bits of food down to Havoc himself, but only the unsalted jerky he had made especially for the wolf. “But, I mean who could it even be? As far as we knew, Joseph was a one man show.”

“It does all add up though, when you think about it,” Tamara murmured, her spoon on the edge of her bowl, her brow furrowed in thought. She looked down hard at her meal before meeting their eyes. “How else did Joseph know Call went to the Magisterium initially? There had to be someone informing him. And for the forbidden library too- someone had to be actively watching Call and reporting.”

“Whoa, are you guys talking about taking down Joseph last year?” Rafe asked, scooting closer towards them with Kai and Celia in tow. Aaron personally didn’t have anything against any of his fellow students, but Rafe and Celia had a particular habit of gossiping. If word got out they had an inkling about their suspicious follower, it would take away their advantage of surprise- in about two periods time. “There has gotta’ be an epic story following you guys’ take down- Dracula’s number one henchman melted like butter in the face of four amateur students!”

“Some of us were more amateur than others,” Jasper confirmed, smirking as all eyes turned to him. He thrived the more people paid attention to him, unlike Aaron. Sometimes just having Rufus’s heavy gaze on him felt like too much. “But, to begin, it all started when I--”

“Dracula’s number one henchman is Death , not Joseph.” Tamara interrupted, looking at the growing crowd with confusion. “We learned that in grade school, Rafe.”

Call, who had finally succeeded in removing every piece of offending fungus from his rice, furrowed his own brow at the mention of one of his subordinates.

Aaron relinquished his spoon, a little sadly, and caught Call’s gaze.

“What's up?”

“So is Death like a name, or are we referring to some inanimate thing or…” Call asked, his eyes half lidded as he prodded at his food. Having spent the summer with him, Aaron had long since realized that Call was an extremely picky eater. According to Alastair, he had only become more picky with his vampirism.

“Death is the Grim Reaper,” Kai replied quietly, his voice barely audible above the sound of surrounding chatter. “He can take whatever shape he wants, but whenever Dracula resurrects, Death is always there.”

“So who was the Grim Reaper in Constantine’s time?” Aaron asked, his brow furrowed. Even despite all his time at Ecclesia, many of the details regarding Constantine’s actions were fuzzy for him. Before he had met Call, he hadn’t even thought much about the previous Dracula. He had been mostly concerned about Joseph. “He did have one, right?”

“No one really knows who Death was in Constantine’s time,” Tamara said, shrugging her shoulders and putting a thoughtful hand to her chin. “I’ve heard some say it was his pet wolf or his brother, but neither has actually been confirmed. All we know is that it had to be someone close to him.”

“I heard it was someone in his apprentice group,” Rafe added, his eyes serious. Aaron wasn’t sure where he had heard the information, but the other boy nodded his head as if he was speaking God’s divined truth. 

Before the topic could be more thoroughly explored, the lunch bell rang loudly, sending ripples of rhythm all throughout the walls of the school. It was a real bell, casted in bronze and nearly five times the size of a person. Aaron still found it impressive, if a bit annoying, to this day. 

“I can tell you more about stuff after classes, if you want,” Jasper said, lifting his dishes and rising with Kai, Rafe, and Celia. The four shared the same B-day teacher, and were close. At least Aaron thought they were. Jasper seemed to have a difficult time making fulfilling relationships with people. “We could meet at Morris’s or something.”

Aaron lifted his own bowl then, finally pushed to action, and gave Havoc’s head one last, fond pat before moving to Call’s side. The raven haired boy had his head lowered and his face completely obscured from view as if he was either devouring his meal, or discreetly feeding its remains to Havoc.

“Ready to go hide in the dorms?” Aaron asked jokingly, his voice low. Call didn’t respond, prompting Aaron to take a knee and lean in to view his expression. “Call?”

“Th-the rice,” he hissed, his hand grasped over his mouth and his eyes. Peering closer, Aaron finally caught the sharp outline of fangs over his pallid lips, the red glow of his eyes undeniable. Although his presence was completely hidden, his appearance had reverted completely back to his vampiric form. “I don’t know what was in it- my teeth- I just turned-”

Aaron tore his jacket from his shoulders and placed it in the other boy’s hands, trying to forget the cool, slightly clammy touch of his fingers. Whatever had transpired with Call was top priority, questions and explanations could wait. Right now, he needed to focus. 

“I’m gonna take us back to the dorm super fast, but cover your face with my jacket just in case,” Aaron whispered, afraid of speaking overly loud. “Just hang on, okay?”

“You’re not about to do something super embarrassing are you?” Call asked, peeking at him through his fingers. His crimson glare was far heavier than his normal one, and while Aaron would never admit it, he thought the red actually suited Call quite nicely- all vampiric qualities aside. They added a sort of mysterious charm to his already dark persona. “Cause you always plan for the action, but you never seem to think about the before or after of either.”

“I’m pretty good at planning,” Aaron murmured, the beginning of Call’s comment lost on him. Call was someone who was very caught up in each and every moment of his life- which wasn’t a bad thing at all, it just made him feel his emotions more keenly then someone like Aaron who often found himself looking ahead. At least he usually looked ahead, being with Call had made him savour each and every moment more.  “And anyway, we’ll be in it together, like always, right?”

Call gave him a toothy grin before securing Aaron’s jacket around his face. The tone of his voice was dripping with sarcasm when he spoke again, his voice thoroughly muffled.

“Just as the church likes it!”

Aaron lifted Call easily, one hand under his knees, the other supporting his back and neck. He stood for a second feeling a bit awkward with the hustle of students surrounding him, but regained his determination when Call pressed into him a bit. Then it felt like his heart was near ready to beat straight out of his chest. Would Call’s enhanced hearing be able to pick up on that?

Aaron, despite all his excuses, secretly enjoyed carrying Call around- just because it felt right to help one of his friends of course. It wasn’t like Call fit in the crook of his arms just right, or because he looked endearing when he was embarrassed- it was just easier since he could openly use his enhanced speed, unlike Call. It was all about practicality in Aaron’s mind. 

“What's going on?” Tamara asked from across the table, looking them over like a concerned mother hen. Aaron slid Call’s unattended bowl toward her before securing the boy himself in his arms again. 

“Keep that bowl, and the food!”

“Meet us at our dorm!” Call half-shouted through his jacket, squirming awkwardly before crossing his arms tightly.  “We’ll talk there!”

With an agile leap, Aaron crossed over the dining table and made for the door, his head only turning as a last minute thought crossed his mind. 

“I owe you, Tamara! I’ll put up your dishes for the rest of the week! You have my word!”

Tamara rolled her eyes, and saluted him lazily, seemingly thinking very little of both his promise and the situation. Aaron would explain everything when he had the chance for right now, Call had to get back to their dorm. Who knew if his presence would hold out?

Aaron dodged around students with more precision then he knew himself to be capable of- even managing to cut corners with well-timed leaps and carefully timed slides. He got a few weird looks here and there, but he was too fast for anything more than a few disgruntled squawks, which he heartily apologized for even in his haste. It was only when his ears pricked forward and he caught wind of his own name did he skid to a very belated stop, nearly launching Call across the hallway. Thank goodness they were both clutching to one another like life and death. Aaron very purposefully did not examine that thought, his adrenaline spiking enough already.

“Mr. Belmont will be headed this way very soon and I will have him complete some worksheets in my office while the blood tests are being done. For now Lemuel, I suggest you head to the boy’s dorms and ensure no students are attempting to skip out. It is important that they are all tested.” Master North said, assumingly to Master Lemuel. 

Aaron looked around himself for a moment, catching the odd glances of a few students and quickly made his way to a nearby door, throwing it open before shutting it and releasing a worried sigh. He almost forgot he was still clutching onto Call in his relief.

“Are we back to the dorm? Cause that really was record speed if we are,” Call murmured, removing Aaron’s jacket before waiting for the blonde to answer. The dark haired boy glanced around, his eyes radiating in the near lightless room, his pointed ears pricked forward as he listened. Aaron crossed his fingers it wasn’t to his exerted breaths and stuttering heart, and then remembered he was still grasping onto the shorter boy for dear life. Call’s arms were still tight around his neck, his waist pressed into Aaron’s arms. The cloth underneath his fingers burned . Aaron clumsily released Call, tripping backwards to make distance in the tiny space, only to knock into something, like a complete idiot. Call moved toward him then, catching the item with ease and blinked up at him, amused. “Are we in a janitor’s closet?”

Aaron nodded his head a few times, not trusting his voice or any of himself until Call stepped back at least a few feet. Did they even have that much room?

“I, uh, there were teachers outside. We’ll probably have to wait them out before heading back out,” Aaron whispered, looking down to scoot a wayward bucket aside and create a bit more foot space for them. Why was he so bothered by their closeness, it wasn't like it mattered. Call didn’t seem bothered by their proximity at all, even taking the time to poke at some of the surrounding shelves. “But, what- what happened with your fangs, and, eyes and stuff?”

Call whipped back around as if he hadn’t remembered his condition and met Aaron’s eyes with a flash of absurdity in his own gaze. 

“If I knew, we wouldn’t have had to play cat and mouse with literally all of Ecclesia,” Call said in his normal voice, wincing as the loud sound interrupted the silence around them. Aaron motioned with his hands to lower the volume and Call thinned his lips before plopping onto his bottom and resting his chin on his knees. “I took one bite of that stuff and- and it felt like I was drinking somebody’s blood. My eyes changed and my fangs just came out- the only thing is, I don’t feel invigorated or satisfied at all…”

Call averted his gaze after saying that, his tongue running over his fangs as if he still wasn’t used to feeling them there. Over the summer it was a rare thing for Call to remove his ring- he often wouldn’t even remove it when he went to bed or showered. It was only on walks, when he was far away from home, that he would remove it and finally stretch his wings. Aaron wasn’t sure how to tell him that, aside from those times, he often seemed tense and anxious- like he was trying too hard to keep everything from exploding out. 

“I don’t wanna assume anything…” Aaron began, his eyes flickering up to meet Call’s. He hated that the idea was even possible. “But we were just talking about a mole.”

Call blinked his eyes a few times, registering the information. He appeared to have an onslaught of things running through his head before his eyes locked back onto Aaron’s, their mirth undeniable. 

“I’m better at dealing with non-human moles, but hey,” Call grinned, shrugging as if the situation that had just occurred wasn’t a big deal. It seemed like Jasper’s nonchalant attitude was rubbing off on him. “We defeated Joseph, his minion will be like ten times easier to catch. Plus we already know it had to be someone on kitchen duty today.  We’ve practically already caught em’.”

Aaron was about to disagree when the pager in his pocket vibrated loudly, an incoming message from Tamara, no doubt. Aaron wasn’t sure how long they had been squatting in the janitor’s closet, but it had definitely been enough time for her to make her way over to their dorm. Aaron swiped out the tiny screen and narrowed his eyes, reading over the message. 

Call wasted no time in sidling up close to him, their legs knocking together familiarly. It distinctly reminded Aaron of their previous time in the castle, when they had huddled close together after Rahab’s fight, desperate for warmth. He felt his cheeks warm and thanked the high heavens Call was two heads shorter than him and very focused on his pager. 

“You know, I would make a joke about you still using one of these, but I think it's getting pretty old…” Aaron didn’t even need to look down to know Call was grinning smugly to himself, and attempted to re-read Tamara’s message for the tenth time and see if he could focus on the three words she sent.

“There's no service anywhere in Ecclesia, remember? We have to use pagers if we’re gonna communicate long distance,” Aaron explained seriously, his fingers far too sweaty to type out a coherent message back to Tamara’s inquiry. She had of course asked where they were. “We should probably get you one too, Call. I bet it would make your dad excited-”

“Is that the tell-tale vibrations of a pager I hear?” A shrill voice asked from directly outside the door. Both Call and Aaron froze mid motion, their eyes immediately aligning. It was the voice of Alex Strike, Rufus’s personal assistant and one of the few people Aaron actually purposefully avoided. There was just something disingenuous about Alex that rubbed the blonde the wrong way, he couldn’t exactly put his finger on it.

Before either had a chance to react, a shadow neared the edge of the door as if Alex was inching forward slowly. His approach should have been unexpected, but when Aaron actually thought about it, it wasn’t. With his mind finally focused, he felt near ready to slap himself. As the last remaining Belmont, Aaron was never required to have his blood tested which usually resulted in Alex coming to pick him up  after lunch on days like this so he could either study with the upperclassmen or Master Rufus. He was the last person Call should have been with in his current state.

“Call you’ve gotta hide,” Aaron whispered, suddenly nervous. He flexed his fingers in and out of a fist while glancing about for something that looked remotely like a hiding place. It wasn’t exactly like Call could hide in a bucket or between some shelves. “Alex is looking for me.”

“How did he even find us? Who looks in janitor closets for missing students?” Call whispered aggressively, an incredulous look on his face as he glanced up and down the walls of chemicals and cleaning products himself. After looking around aimlessly for a second, his glowing eyes stopped on the ceiling. “I’ll just turn into a bat and hideout there until I get my chance-”

“You can’t just fly out, Call. This is Ecclesia, everyone hates bats- even natural ones,” Aaron argued, slipping his jacket on and nearly poking Call with his elbows. Call seemed rather set on his idea until Aaron finally thought up his own. “Just turn into a bat and I’ll hide you in my jacket. That way you can leave as soon as I’m delivered.”

Call looked like he had at least ten things to say about that idea, but chose instead to cross his arms and scowl.

“You know, I think Ecclesia would do better with a few animal activists on their team,” and with his last comment made, swirled into a cloud of crimson smoke and fluttered out a tiny, vampire bat. 

Call, in his bat form, was no bigger than the palm of Aaron’s hand- though his leathery wing span was a great deal wider and his tiny fingers and toes much sharper than they appeared. He had two circular red eyes and a cute upturned snout that made it looked as if he was scorning the entire world. It really wasn’t too different from human Call. His ring remained on its long silvery chain, but Aaron wound it up snug around his tiny form. In Aaron’s opinion, the most difficult part of this transformation was not giving Call’s tiny, fuzzy head at least one pat. Call had made it very clear that he was not one for physical contact and being a bat didn’t change that one bit. 

Just as Alex was about to open the door, Aaron swiped Call out of the air and tucked him safely into the inner pocket of his jacket, letting out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. The older boy tilted his head in a confused way.

“You know, every time I open this door and find kids in here, there's usually more than one,” Alex opened with, looking about the closet as if he expected someone to pop up from one of the buckets like a jack in the box. Aaron swallowed inconspicuously. “Am I missing somebody?”

“Why would someone be in here with me?” Aaron asked, a little frantically, stepping forward. He didn’t like having his back pressed to a wall with nowhere to run. It made him feel anxious. “I just needed a minute to myself, that's it.”

Alex laughed and nudged him with his elbow like they were close friends. Aaron didn’t think they were close enough to even exchange numbers. 

“Well, whatever girl you were thinking of in there, she’s lucky!” 

Aaron choked, immediately moving  his arms to clutch at his sides. Call was squirming in his jacket, his tiny hooked claws pressing into his skin as his tiny bat hands tried to accomplish who knew what. The tell-tale sound of ripping cloth seemed suddenly loud as Alex finally decided to shut his mouth and stare at Aaron like he had never seen him before. Aaron blinked back himself, just as much at a loss as Alex was.

“Are you good?” Alex questioned, doing a very indiscreet survey of Aaron’s clothes from each angle. “I’m pretty sure I just heard--”

“I’m good,” Aaron confirmed, moving away from the other boy as tactfully as he could. If fate wasn’t screaming at him to take his chance, Aaron was sure Call was in his tiny, velvety head. “But, let me just head back to my room, freshen up and I’ll meet you back at Master Rufus’s office!”

Before Alex could get a word in edgewise, he dashed down the hallway, Call still hidden and his shirt -hopefully- still mostly intact.

Chapter Text

Alastair took a long drag on his cigarette before leaning back into his booth and feeling that tight, strained muscle in the centre of his lower back relax. The sun was setting, he had gotten a nice dinner of fish and chips and had only spent a negligible amount of Call’s college fund on procuring a rental boat. Things were nearly in order for his trip back to Joseph’s tiny little island in the middle of nowhere. Almost .

“Dear, Alastair…” Magnus chided, cutting into his fish and chips with a fork and knife. He took a single bite before covering his mouth with a napkin he had folded into a triangle. “You must quit that awful habit. You’re shaving years off of your life.”

Here was the problem, walking on two feet in attire that wasn’t fit for any country or time period. Magnus Aurelius, in all his pious glory, had stuck like necrotic skin to Alastair’s arm- and the worst part was he didn’t even try to be discreet. The priest had gone so far as to ask the motel for a two room suite. The only reason Alastair hadn’t protested was the fact that Magnus had taken the bill. It had been a long time since he had the time to run his shop with all the repairs and upkeep he had to do over the summer. Now Constantine had to up and  be reborn again… He was probably going to have to get a second job when he got back to North Carolina at least according to the way current financials were looking.

“You’ve already done that, thanks,” Alastair muttered, cutting into his slice of cherry pie. Unfortunately, a lot of his old cravings seemed to be resurfacing with so much thought on Constantine. He was too old to be smoking and eating sweets with every meal. “You and that church of yours.”

Magnus frowned and crunched into a bite of his catfish, his dark brows furrowed. 

“While I believe the church has many good beliefs, I know they aren’t impartial. I’m familiar with your story dear, and I do want you to know I’m not like the church-”

“Well that sets your standards very high, doesn’t it?” Alastair quipped, his eyes narrowed. He had abandoned all civility once he realized the other man wasn’t going to listen to a word he said about anything. Alastair had found that most walls responded more logically than your average clergyman, and Magnus was no different. “I’m not your dear, and I’m heading back to the room. Don’t rush, you won’t be missing anything.”

Without waiting for a response, Alastair strolled out of the tiny fish shack and made his way towards the hotel Magnus had purchased a room in. In the case Alastair was unable to shake him, he could force the man into starving and leaving of his own accord. For whatever reason, he was incapable of eating a bite of anything larger than half an inch which resulted in prolonged mealtimes.

Magnus was young, he was ignorant, and worst of all he had no idea about the sort of things Aalstair needed to complete.The stakes were too high for him to get caught up on the little things. Magnus was a very little thing and he needed to be taken care of sooner than later. When Alastair got out of the shower the first thing he felt was a bone weary ache cut through him like a dagger, all of his injuries pulsing to life. Phantom pains danced along his skin, burning reminders of the life he had once lived, of the life he had recently started up once again. He was getting too old to be fighting Dracula and chasing after shadows. Constantine would be his exact age now too- 36 years old and just revived. Alastair could only pray he was feeling the torments of age in his immortal body, but that would be optimistic and unfortunately, all of Alastair’s optimism had run out about twenty years prior.  

After toweling down his hair and making note that he had forgotten his comb, Alastair pulled on his thermal and slipped his glasses onto his nose, freezing as he stepped out of the bathroom. No matter the season, or the weather he always felt cold. Always. 

“Alastair, darling, you look so much better after that shower! You’ve finally gotten some colour to return to your handsome, gaunt face!” Magnus greeted, donned in a loose silken robe and equipped with a tall glass of wine. He looked the most normal Alastair had seen him, which really didn’t say much about the man. “I really do believe we’ve got off on the wrong foot, you will join me for a drink, won’t you?”

Alastair looked toward him with more disdain than he intended and sat on the edge of his own bed, rubbing at his eyes. 

“If you’ve got something you want to say, say it. If not, I’m heading to bed.”

Magnus looked up at him, his eyes still hidden behind his large glasses, before turning his focus to emptying his cup. After finishing it, he gave him a warbled smile and shrugged, carelessly. Alastair wasn’t sure if he was reading the reaction correctly, but Magnus almost seemed… disappointed? It wasn't like Alastair had been any more responsive to him in previous conversation.

“Oh well, it wasn’t important. I’m- I’m sure we can discuss later.” He swallowed then, abruptly, and set the glass down with enough force for it to clink noisily against the counter. It seemed to be accidental and he hastily rubbed his hands against his robe as if to clean them. “Goodnight then, sleep well. I hope you have good dreams!”

“Night,” Alastair whispered, already turning away.

It was near midnight when Alastair woke up. A shiver went up his spine, cold caressing his skin like an ever present nightmare. He shifted tiredly, cradling his head in his arms before finally realizing he was alone. Magnus wasn’t in the bed opposite of him, and with a cursory glance around the rest of the room, he wasn’t anywhere to be found. Despite Alastair’s initial thoughts on Magnus, the clergyman was apparently not as sticky as he seemed to be… Or he had very pressing duties to attend to. 

Stretching his arms above his head, Alastair grabbed his lighter from his nightstand and pulled open the front door. Part of him wasn’t surprised to find Magnus standing there, his gaze turned towards the sky, the other part of him had hoped to be free of him for a few whole days. He leaned against the railing, completely lost in thought; he didn’t seem to even acknowledge Alastair moving to stand across from him.

“Didn’t think I’d find you out here,” Alastair murmured, bringing his cigarette to his lips, his lighter not far behind. 

“It's a funny thing isn’t it? The sky?” Magnus twirled a lock of his dark hair around his finger. He had that same thoughtful look in his eyes, a tinge of sadness creasing his brow. “No matter what terrible things occur in our woeful, tiny world, the sky will always remain the same. Glittering starlight, or brightening blue. Even a storm’s rage cannot hide it for overlong.”

Alastair blinked, his own eyes tracing the stars and moon high above them. He had felt similarly after Sarah’s death, still did to an extent. The weight of loss was inescapable, irreparable, and constant. A day hadn't gone by since Sarah’s death that Alastair hadn’t thought of her smile, of the way things had used to be. Of how seemingly unchanged the world was despite her loss; of how changed his world was because of it. It almost felt like a mockery.

“Nothing compares,” Alastair agreed suddenly, feeling raw and exposed. He hated that feeling, hated meeting Magnus’s gaze and knowing exactly what the man had felt, had been through. 

But it wasn't really Magnus that he hated, it was the church. In agreeing with Magnus, he was  humanizing the church he despised so much. Killing wasn’t easy, but killing someone you understood, someone you knew was so much harder. Alastair was all too familiar with the notion after all. Constantine had been his best friend long before he had been his enemy.

“You’ve lost someone too?” Magnus asked, sounding young- naive almost. His eyes flickered back to the stars, as if he was afraid to hold Alastair’s gaze for too long. His lips twitched downwards, sorrow building like a mask over his face. “Of course you have. What bigger grievance could you hold against the church?”

“And what about you?” Alastair questioned roughly, no longer able to bear the weight of attention. A dark cloud had passed over the moon, casting a shadow over their conversation. 

“It's nights like this that my brother loved so much- the silence, the beauty. He was of the introspective type, always thinking in that head of his. Too much really,” Magnus paused, his rich voice broken if only for a moment. Alastair didn’t turn to look at him. The conversation already felt taboo, like he was listening to a story that wasn't meant for his ears. “The church didn't like it. It threatened them, his questions, his thoughts. They called it heresy. ”

"Your brother was killed by the church?" Alastair clarified, shocked. The underlying question was carried through in the sheer disbelief of his tone: And you still stand by them?

"I don't have anything else. The church back in France would have killed me alongside him, but it was my Aunt that brought me here, to safety." Magnus paused, the amusement that always lingered in his eyes completely drained. Alastair had always known his jovial attitude to be a farce, but really seeing it made him feel empty. "I’m only safe here because of my aunt- Anastasia’s- status in the church. I'm dead with or without them."

Magnus laughed then, cold without any joy. He didn't seem keen on defending himself, nor did he seem keen on escaping his situation. He was complacent. He allowed himself to be tossed left and right, only to view the sudden outcome. It was  a coward's way of living, but Alastair didn't feel he could hold that against him. Magnus, who had been irritating him for months on end, was simply another victim. A victim to a church that had built its promises on lies, its principles on fallacy. Sarah would have comforted him if she had met him. Alastair could only stand back and watch, unfeeling.

“Do you think he would curse me for remaining with the church?”

The question was whispered, like a sin in a confession booth, never to be uttered again to the living world. It was his plea for consolation, for validation. Alastair scowled. 

“I  would.”

Magnus grinned at him, the expression dark- a stark contrast to his usual bearings. 

"I would too."

The waves rushed against the edges of the sailboat Alastair had rented, the strong smell of salt and sea cloyingly strong in his nose. The sun was high in the sky now, warm and bright against his skin- a welcome embrace after the chilly night. Alastair, despite his constant exhaustion, felt hopeful. True, Magnus was still hovering around like a shadow, but whether or not the clergyman followed him on this particular mission wasn’t important. Alastair was returning to Joseph’s crypt for one reason. 

It would be dumb of him to think Constantine would leave something behind- no, Constantine, even in the wake of his own revival, was far too cunning to leave anything remotely helpful behind. What Alastair was hoping for on his return was an indicator towards the vampire’s plan.  The indicator itself was a factor Alastair had painfully forgotten about in his haste to escape the scene: Joseph’s corpse.

“Do you like sailing?” Magnus asked cheerfully, gazing out across the sea with a smile. Despite the heaviness of the topic the previous night, he seemed even more chipper the following morning, like a burden had been lifted off his shoulders. Alastair supposed it didn’t make much of a difference for him, even if he did prefer silence over chatter. “Or was there another reason you got a sailing certificate?”

“Got it for my wife years ago,” Alastair mumbled, his own sense of freedom dwindling. If he took a sharp turn and threw Magnus from his dock, would the church blame him for murder? He wasn’t even sure how often the clergyman was updating them on his movements so it seemed like an unwise choice to make… For right now at least. “Got it renewed last year when I was with Joseph.”

Alastair didn’t turn to see if the name prickled an innocent saint like Magnus. While he had only recently traveled to the United States, Magnus seemed to have significant knowledge on the goings and happenings of Constantine Madden. It was one of the more interesting things about him, Alastair considered, if only because Ecclesia had kept information on Constantine almost completely hidden. The most likely source would of course be Anastasia Tarquin, but why would she have or want information on Constantine?  There was also the question on why Magnus would be interested, however the answer to that could be easily explained with a multitude of things. It didn’t necessarily constitute a threat  for Alastair.

“You always mention these incriminating names…” Magnus laughed a bit, a nervous crack sounding through his voice. Alastair was sure he was fiddling with his hair, while shuffling his feet in that awkward way he did when he was curious. “But what really was your relationship with Constantine Madden? Or even with Joseph? I hear so many things at the Church, one can’t help but wonder-”

“We’re here,” Alastair sighed, ignoring the bullet of a question that was shot at him. He tossed the coiled anchor with slight difficulty and hopped into the shallow water. He would need a new pair of boots after this excursion. 

Magnus looked at the island with surprise, as if he just couldn’t imagine an outcropping of land on this particular patch of sea, and then turned his scrutinizing gaze towards the sand. Alastair didn’t waste any more time watching him and walked straight ahead, a single destination in mind. 

Aside from the occasional traces of magical entropy- the occasional affected plant or distorted animal- the island seemed mostly unchanged. Even upon coming across the clearing of Joseph’s old conjured cave, Alastair mostly found traces of a scuffle, but even a majority of the obsidian rock had dissolved, leaving nothing but scarred earth. Not even grass dared to grow on this defiled piece of land anymore. 

“Shit,” Alastair said, his eyes roving over the land, hoping for anything- a grave, a sign,  something that showed Joseph’s body was rotting somewhere nearby. Magnus’s laboured breathing was the only response he received.

“And what exactly are we lamenting here?” Magnus asked once he had caught his breath. “There was clearly magic at work here, though I suppose it's the caster you’re looking after? Does the church know of this island?”

“You familiar with the cult?” Alastair asked, kneeling to rub the dirt between his fingers. Something seemed wrong with the ground, searing cracks scarring its surface, large fissures splitting what would have once been soft, clay-like soil. Something, or someone, had magically altered the ground here. 

Was there something buried he should be looking for?

“Devil worshippers? I’m familiar with them in theory, though they’re far too discreet for the church to have any tangible information on them. At least that was how it was back in France. I can’t imagine it's too different here, is it?” Magnus put his hand to his chin in thought before he suddenly seemed to lose his balance and caught himself on Alastair’s shoulder. “There was news of a councilman deferring to their ranks a few years back, was there not? Dewinter or something of the like…”

Alastair shrugged off his hand before nodding in accordance with his statement. 

“You’re surprisingly well informed. I think the cult might’ve picked up Joseph’s body after we offed the bastard.” He lied, still examining the ground. It wasn’t likely Constantine had the strength to alter the ground unless of course, he expected Alastair to return here in search of something. On one hand that may mean that Alastair had accidentally stumbled onto a minefield, on the other hand it might mean that Constantine had left something worth protecting around. Considering what a tricky person the past Dracula was, it might not have been either. “Necromancy is a big thing in their ranks. They think that just because Death serves their master they can escape their mortality.”

“You…” Magnus stuttered, pushing his glasses further up his nose in disbelief. He nearly lost his balance completely this time, but Alastair stumbled backwards himself, the earth rumbling at his feet, a nearby fissure splitting further as pebbles began to spit from within. “You mean to say that you believe the cult is attempting to revive Joseph?!”

“I think we’ve got company,” Alastair replied calmly, pulling his gun from the back of his pants. If Constantine truly did intend to revive Joseph, there was no stopping him. He had been like that ever since they were young- scarily persistent, nearly unstoppable when he put his mind to something. But what made him such a formidable opponent, had also been what had made him such a reliable ally. 

He was even more difficult to pin down now that he was unofficially alive, and traipsing about without any obvious goal to Alastair. What would a near manic lord do if he came back from the dead? Revenge sounded like something that would be prioritized, world domination might not be far behind either, not that Constantine had ever expressed interest in something of that nature. What good would reviving Joseph do for him? Alastair had always thought he and Constantine had shared the same opinion of the vampire. 

“Alastair, dear, please tell me you’re thinking up a solution in that pretty head of yours while you proceed to do absolutely nothing? If not, I have quite the retreat plan in store for us, if need be,” Magnus said, shaking his shoulders and looking about nervously. While the earth continued to rumble and seize, nothing emerged even as more fragments of the stone were torn free and tossed about. 

“I’m staying. Whatever was placed here could have a clue connecting back to the cult.”

Before Magnus had a chance to respond, a large, armoured fish leapt from the fissure, dirt and stone cascading down its aquamarine scales. As if sensing them, the large creature opened its beaked mouth and spewed a hateful puff of fumes toward them, a sickly green gas collecting in the air. 

“It's a Gravedorcus…?” Alastair murmured to himself more than Magnus. It had been years since he was in school, but his mind had never forgotten the names of Dracula’s hordes, nor of their capabilities. Sarah had called him a monster encyclopedia for a long time, but Alastair simply attributed it to the extensive time he helped Constantine after Jericho’s death. He had to know each of his subordinates in order to help him most effectively after all.

A Gravedorcus was an illusive sort of creature that rarely came up to the surface of the earth, and tended to avoid humans as well as violence if not previously provoked. Not that it was even an easy monster to provoke: its entire body was covered in a thick armour that was nearly impenetrable by physical weapons. To prepare something like this really showed that Constantine didn’t need time to rest and recuperate. He was a menace straight out of the grave, one Alastair should have never underestimated.

Chapter Text

“My claws tore through your pocket and I started slipping,” Call immediately explained after returning to his human form and stumbling into their room drunkenly. He didn’t know why, but somehow being pressed up close to Aaron’s skin had made him feel dizzy and warm in a way he hadn’t felt for at least a year. It made him feel alive . What the hell? “Is Alex still behind us? God, I swear he’s weirder everytime I see him.”

Call gave Havoc a quick rub on his head before flopping onto his bed tiredly, as if he had been the one running through the halls.  

“Is Alex the reason you two were taking your sweet time coming back? I’ve been hiding out here, but I swear Lemuel has opened the door like six times. Are the teachers always so policing in the boy’s dorms during blood draws?” Tamara asked, emerging from their bathroom like a shadow. Havoc wagged his tail as she moved forward, his ears flattening as she approached. “I brought your food back, though I still am failing to see…”

Call caught Tamara’s gaze and she paused, her words falling away. Call wasn’t sure if she had ever caught sight of him without his ring. He had long since grown used to himself, his eerie looks, his strength, his weaknesses… That didn’t go for everyone though, Jasper used to flinch anytime he accidentally caught sight of him without his ring. 

“You think someone poisoned you? Or tried to poison you?” Tamara asked, suddenly angered. She walked toward him and grabbed his chin turning his face side to side before turning to look at Aaron in explanation. Call stuck his tongue out at her back. “You guys think it's Alex?”

Leave it to Tamara to be too business-minded to even consider Call’s insecurities. She wasn’t the easiest person to get along with, but he didn’t want anyone else in his corner if things went to hell. 

“It, uh, well, he’s not ruled out, but this time around he actually had a reason to follow after us,” Aaron murmured, buttoning his blazer awkwardly. Tamara, who was usually fairly perceptive, didn’t seem to notice the awkward way the blonde rubbed at his neck, or his half destroyed shirt. Call wasn’t sure why he was watching him so closely either. “I asked you to bring back the rice so we could test it for blood, or something?”

Tamara paused for a moment, nodding and beginning to pace in the small space between their beds. Havoc followed her every movement with his eyes, his tail wagging just slightly. 

“We should check out the kitchen schedule. It's run by students so whoever was on duty today is obviously a potential suspect…At least the red does seem to be fading from your eyes, Call.” She stopped near him to once again examine his face, much to his embarrassment, and furrowed her brow once again, any look of gentility lost. “I’m glad you stopped eating when you did.”

“Isn’t Alex like your future brother in law or something?” Call asked, propping his head up on his arms.  It wasn’t like he was surprised Tamara was in favour of helping him, it just felt slightly weird since they had been at odds with each other recently. She turned to look at him like he was speaking alien. “Aren’t you usually defending him?”

“I do like Alex generally, but if we're connecting this back to the mole business, then anyone in Ecclesia could be--”

Before Tamara had a chance to finish, the door swung open with enough force to cause Havoc to jump and begin barking, the fur on his scruff stuck upward in angry surprise. Aaron had a similar reaction, his hand grabbing at his waist for a weapon he didn’t have equipped. That had probably saved the life of whoever had forgotten to knock. In Call’s opinion, a lost hand might have made for a worthy reminder for the intruder.

“Mr. Belmont!” Master Lemuel reprimanded before squinting his eyes and realizing Aaron was not the only one standing inside. Call felt like laughing obnoxiously to catch his attention, but wasn’t sure how much his fangs had shortened. “And the rest of you! You should all be getting your blood drawn and tested! This is not optional. You need to head to the west infirmary immediately, Miss Rajavi! And east infirmary for you, Callum Hunt!”

Call smiled sweetly then, and bowed in Lemuel’s direction. He had realized early on that Alastair’s deal with Grave’s had basically reserved a spot at Ecclesia for him. Which meant, he didn’t have to pretend to be a perfect student anymore… It also meant that he was free to give Lemuel a taste of his own medicine anytime Call felt inclined to. Aaron looked toward him, shaking his head as if he knew what he was thinking. 

“Tamara, you're in the boy's dorm and skipping out on the blood draws? What would Kimiya think?” Alex tsked, shaking his head, his arms crossed. He had an annoying smile still plastered to his lips that made Call want to give the older boy a solid smack. “I’ll escort Aaron, Master Lemuel. You can take those two back to their respective lines.”

  “Yeah, Tamara and I can take Lemuel, Aaron. Just make sure to leave something of Alex so Kimiya has something to bury.” Call pat Havoc’s head to calm him before moving to stand beside Lemuel. He distinctly felt Alex fix him with something of a glare before laughing nonchalantly, his hand on Aaron’s shoulder as the blonde sulked forward. 

Ever since his second year at Ecclesia had started, Call had felt that he had been at odds with Tamara and as a result, Alex too. While the older boy had only seemed to tease him, Call felt he was always poking his nose in the wrong places. Or maybe if someone looked at it at the correct angle, the right places…?

“That's enough outta you,” Lemuel reprimanded, putting a solid hand on both his and Tamara’s shoulders and forcing them to make their way towards the door. Despite his initial nerves, Lemuel didn’t make any comments on his current appearance meaning his eyes had dimmed enough for him to pass as a human again. Someone like him wouldn’t have passed up the opportunity to get Call kicked out after all. “You kids are always playing around and doing whatever you want. Ever thought about why we have to proctor you so closely?”

“Wait for me Call! I’m coming back, I’ll find you!” Aaron called after them, his brows creased in concern. It was an expression Call saw so often, he couldn’t help but find it kind of endearing. He shot the other boy a quick thumbs up.

After walking a few steps, Call shrugged out of Lemuel’s grip noting that he was nearly his height.

“So what made you want to be a teacher?” he asked conversationally, his hands now securely fitted in his pockets. Tamara snorted, but didn’t comment on his question. Instead, she seemed very interested in the answer herself. “You don’t seem like the type to go for a job like this.”

Lemuel squinted his beady eyes at Call, and then sighed looking more tired and vulnerable then Call had ever seen him. It was like all the anger and vitriol he had been spewing for years had been drained right out of him, leaving only a dried, empty husk. It actually made Call feel pretty bad for always getting on Lemuel’s nerves… Well, not bad enough to stop, but somewhere around there. 

“Ecclesia isn’t an easy place to leave once you're employed here,” The teacher murmured, looking away for a moment. Call didn’t usually read into people’s expressions, but he was almost positive that something that looked really close to regret had just flashed through Lemuel’s eyes. “Not that any of this is important. Miss Rajavi, you can go to the infirmary by yourself. I’ll be checking up on your records so don’t try anything.”

“Call, Jasper should be in line,” She nodded at him. “He’ll get you where you need to be.”

Lemuel shook his head. 

“You kids act like getting a blood draw is life ending or something. Have you heard yourselves?”

Call was about to explain how a metaphorical death could be way worse than real death, and how Lemuel probably should understand that considering his track record, but paused as they reached the entirely too long line of boys wearing tank tops. And there was Master Rufus standing at the end of the line, a collection of white papers clutched in his hand. 

“Callum, I was beginning to think I would have to go and find you myself.” Rufus smiled, his eyes warm. Call felt himself awkwardly shrugging. They may have spent nearly the entire summer together, but once they entered Ecclesia, things just felt different: strained, almost. School did that to people, relationships, his sleep schedule… Oh could the list go on. “I am aware Alastair did not want any blood tests done on you for the remainder of your stay so I made sure to mark that here on your form. Only the physical will be done to ensure you are in adequate shape for the Coliseum.”

“The fact that you’re smiling in front of a line of poorly dressed students who are walking to give up their life blood feels oddly concerning to me,” Call muttered, looking back to gain a sympathetic gaze from Lemuel. The teacher glared hard at him, sighing. “Did I ever tell you I have an overly active bladder, Master Rufus?”

“Make sure he stays in line,” Master Lemuel instructed behind him, pushing Call towards Master Rufus without much force. Call gave him a look like he was crazy. “He was trying to hide out in his dorm with Mr. Belmont and Tamara Rajavi.”

“I was trying to -” Call sighed, shaking his head and throwing his hands up in the air as if his complaints were useless. Who was he kidding, they practically were. He grabbed the paper Rufus had been offering him and gave his fakest smile. “You know what? I’m just gonna get in line. Thanks a lot.”

“Not up to anymore funny business, is that correct, Callum?” Master Rufus asked, even while Call tried to slink away to the line. Somehow, the teacher seemed to have a way to freeze someone in place with his gaze. Maybe that was where Aaron had gotten it from. It sucked always being the recipient of that look. “You are planning to stay within Ecclesia this semester?”

“Depends on where the circus takes me,” Call shrugged, forcing his legs to walk away. He heard Lemuel groan during his departure and felt a grin pull at his lips. Swirling around he shrugged carelessly, his grin fully present. “Right now, it seems like Ecclesia has a pretty good ringmaster.”

Master Rufus didn’t verbally respond to his comment, but when Call looked back he caught sight of his smile, even while he shook his head disapprovingly. And really, while his relationship with Master Rufus was all but repaired, that unfortunately didn’t translate over to his current predicament: how exactly he was going to escape his physical. 

Back when he and Alastair had been in the hospital, Call had left everything to him. Alastair had covered his initial blood tests, and his physical exam. Now, as Call made his way to the back of the line, he couldn’t help but feel out of place. Did a physical mean they were going to take his blood pressure and all of that stuff, or did it mean they were just going to check his back for scoliosis? That was all his old school had checked for.

The long line of boys led into a very familiar infirmary, only it was much more lively now then it had been the last time Call had been here. Unlike the first time he had been here, Call could catch sight of a pair of feet under every navy separation cloth; and after a few minutes one of his fellow students would leave and have another take his spot. It seemed like each stall was in use to ‘check’ each student. 

Call glanced around trying to catch sight of Jasper, but the line was moving faster than he had thought and he was near the front by the time he realized Jasper wasn’t anywhere nearby. Master North stood near the front of the line, Call belatedly noticed, assigning each student to whatever station. When Call watched the back of whoever had been standing in front of him disappear, he finally felt a bit of nervousness creep down his back. 

“Mr. Hunt,” Master North drawled, propping his glasses further up his nose and glaring down hard at the piece of paper Call had been given. He coughed for a moment, a clear indication in Call’s mind that he needed to be the one being checked up on, and then cleared his throat, returning the paper. “Last curtain on your left.”

“On your left?” Call asked, more out of confusion than the intention to confuse. 

“On my right,” Master North said, shaking his head. He threaded his fingers through his overly long beard and shooed him away with his hand. Apparently Graves was the only one who really wanted Call at Ecclesia. “Now, off with you. There's a full line of students behind you.”

Call took a quick glance at his back and sighed, trudging forward like there were weights strapped to his feet. The best, most legitimate reason he could think of for skipping a physical was religious, and unfortunately everyone at Ecclesia was religious. He wouldn’t be getting any favours there. 

Call gulped as he approached the cloth, his feet just near enough to be seen by whatever teacher was awaiting him behind it. 

“Come on in, Auntie Alma ain’t gonna hurt ya’,” An elderly woman’s voice croaked from within, sweet- almost how Call might have imagined his grandmother’s voice to sound like if he were to have one. “No need to be shy.”

Taking a deep breath in through his nose in very human-like fashion, Call walked through the cloth, levelling the older lady with his gaze. Auntie Alma was an older lady, just as he had predicted, with a mass of braids on her head and a somewhat crooked smile. She reached behind herself and Call almost expected her to pull out some ginger candies or old cookies, instead all she revealed was a long needle. Did that make him ageist ? 

“If you could just tell me your name and hand me that piece of paper of yours,” She said to him, pulling a string of beaded glasses onto her nose and jotting something down. She looked over the paper, her brow creased. “Not often they skip the blood tests… Not often at all.”

“Callum Hunt,” Call said coldly. The paper she had taken from him said the same thing so he wasn’t exactly sure why he was going through these pains. 

“Alright then, if you would just remove your shirt we can get this whole process over and done with,” She said, returning her gaze to him. Her eyes were dark coloured, black almost. 

Without responding Call began unbuttoning his shirt, his would-be heart beating with the unfastening of each button, his breath accelerating a little more. Lemuel had been right: he couldn’t be walking to his death if he was already dead. But what was this old lady going to think when she didn’t hear his heartbeat?

He gripped his shirt hard once it was off. At least he didn’t have to remove his pants and show Old lady Alma how deformed his leg was and try to explain how he was walking straight. Instead of moving to check his heartbeat, Alma remained where she was, her void-like eyes wide behind her spectacles. Call turned behind himself to see if she was staring at something other than him, only to find the blank curtain billowing slightly as the air shifted. Call was no ghost hunter, but he was pretty sure that didn’t mean anything. 

After a second, her gaze became heavy, uncomfortable almost. It made Call want to squirm, or maybe just put his clothes back on.

“Listen, I don’t usually talk to old ladies-”

“The necklace, boy…” Alma paused, moving to stand, her dress swirling about her legs. Call didn’t want to admit it, but seeing her stand thoroughly made him want to forget his test and run for his dear life. Surprisingly, the old woman started to laugh, her braids shaking as she wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. She set the needle down almost immediately after that, settling her hands on her hips. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a part of the Order! I wouldn’t have ever thought about feedin’ you to those hungry vampires if I knew you were from the Order!”

Call froze for a moment before nodding and matching her smile with his own wobbly one. Whatever Order wasn’t persecuting him and serving him up sounded friendly enough- he could agree to that. 

“Uh, which hungry vampires are we talking about feeding?”

“Oh you know,” Alma said, rolling her eyes and motioning in the air like Call understood what she was alluding to. “Ecclesia’s little experiments. Nothing that could match our level of expertise, huh?” 

After saying that she nudged him cheerfully, winking. Something told Call it was high time to make his exit. 

“Oh yeah, totally,” He laughed, re-buttoning his shirt as fast his fingers could go through them. He didn’t meet her eyes. “Our Order is the best. One hundred percent.”

“You trainees learn so fast! Ha!” Alma laughed again and Call couldn’t exactly tell if she was laughing because she thought something was actually funny, or if she just thought it sounded right after every sentence.  Maybe the trainees didn’t usually learn fast. “Well you take care out there! I’ll make sure and mark you checked!”

Call gave her a nervous smile before all but busting out of the curtain, smoke surely trailing at his heels. He didn’t get far before slamming into a very familiar shoulder. 

“Jasper I swear you stand in the most inconvenient places and wait for me to break my nose on your bony, hard shoulder every-” Call didn’t get a chance to finish as Jasper dragged him past Master North and stared him down hard. 

“Feeding hungry vampires?! You were supposed to wait for me!” Jasper whisper-shouted before Call shoved a finger to his lips and shushed him obnoxiously. A few boys in line looked over at them, but Call didn’t think they cared enough to listen. “Who the hell was even in there?!”

Call threw up his own hands, mirroring Jasper’s confusion. Part of him wanted to laugh because they probably both looked like idiots hiding away in this little corner whispering about something that possibly didn’t matter, but the other part of him felt nervous. Nervous like he had for the past two years, the crippling, scary type that kept him awake at night if he let it. 

“It was this crazy old lady- Auntie Alma or something and,” Call paused as something caught his attention. It apparently caught Jasper’s too because the taller boy didn’t prompt him to start again. Instead, his gaze followed Call’s and landed near the entry where Master Rufus was still standing. 

“I swear, I’m Callum Hunt!” Aaron, or someone who looked like Aaron said. The only difference was he seemed to be wearing a very sad looking black wig, and were the first few buttons of his uniform undone? Master Rufus raised his bushy eyebrows in what looked to be as much disbelief as Call himself was in. 

“Last I spoke to him, Callum was about four inches shorter…” Rufus paused, looking very weary for a moment. “I find it very difficult to believe that such rapid growth could occur in under fifteen minutes.”

“Of all the wrong things he could mention,” Call murmured, shaking his head in the mocking face of betrayal. He very pointedly ignored Jasper’s snicker.

“I can prove it!” Aaron declared, and Call almost wanted to watch him do it. But, the truth of the matter was if he let Aaron continue on any longer there was a high chance he was going to be the one who ended up completely embarrassed. He could only survive so much. 

Before Aaron had a chance, Call pushed away from Jasper and waved familiarly towards the pair. 

“Hey, Aaron!”

“Call, Jasper!” Aaron greeted before remembering his identity and immediately turning back to Rufus in mild shock. The teacher sighed. “I mean, uhm-”

“If the three of you are done causing trouble here, I recommend catching up on your studies back in your rooms. Your third year does not prioritize traditional learning; however, that does not mean you have to fall behind as a student.”

“Yessir,” Call muttered, saluting lazily. “We’ll hit the books so hard not even they could fall asleep.”

“What does that even mean?” Jasper asked, narrowing his eyes at Call. Both he and Aaron shrugged in unison before fistbumping. “Okay, whatever, but seriously Aaron? I could have disguised myself better as Call. I know him better anyway.”

“Well, if we’re basing it off of who knows me the best, it should probably be Havoc,” Call said matter-of-factly, his hands back in the safety of his pockets. “I think he’d make a more convincing actor than Aaron at least.”

“But it doesn’t matter about the know … The only thing Master Rufus mentioned was the height. So in that case,” Aaron put a hand to his chin and pretended to think hard before his green eyes caught that familiar glint. “In that case, Tamara would be the best option!”

Jasper coughed out a laugh, looked surprised, and then laughed again, wrapping a familiar arm around Aaron’s neck. 

“Not bad Belmont-boy, not bad.”

“Yeah, the only thing that's gonna be bad is when I grow taller than both of you and refuse to let you live it down,” Call muttered darkly, walking ahead of both of them. 

“Live it down ?” Aaron asked, and Call knew his mistake even before either of them said anything. 

“You would know what living it down, close to the earth would be like, huh?” Jasper smirked, patting Aaron on the back as the blonde simultaneously returned the fond gesture. It was more friendly than Call had ever seen them- at least on Jasper’s side. A treacherous smile pulled at his own lips. As terrible as being teased was, maybe, just maybe he could tolerate it in favour of whatever was happening behind him. Good thing he was a gracious Dracula.

Chapter Text

Call swung his mace down hard, straight into a terrifying mound of squirming fire ants. They crawled about in every which way, some even taking their chance to crawl up the head of his mace and scurry down the shaft. Honestly, Call hadn’t intended to destroy them. Tamara was standing directly in front of him, not to his far left. Maces were just very top heavy. And Call was just very directionally challenged. 

They were back in the training grounds for week two of weapon coaching. The training grounds, as Ecclesia called them, were essentially a large plot of gated land with an excessively large, covered patio made of ivy-swathed wood and enough storage to house a small country. If one somehow managed to escape the shaded area, it was just thick forest as far as the eye could see; the occasional stream painting its way across the lush green. Call actually liked the place- at least he had before they had been forced to practise here every single day. Now he was getting tired of the smell of human sweat and weapon oil.

“Uh it's your turn, I guess?” He shrugged, leaving his abandoned mace in the pile. Tamara looked at him appraisingly, and then down at the ants. She struggled with her own mace some distance before barely lifting it, and launching it roughly toward him. With a sad, defeated thump it landed right next to Call’s own forgotten mace, causing dirt and ants to erupt in a nasty circle all around. Call watched in something close to admiration and couldn’t help as his hands came together in slow applause. “If this was an ant throwing contest, I think you would have won. I’m pretty sure I saw one fly into the forest.”

“Why thank you, Call,” Tamara said, curtseying before plopping down beside their fallen maces and crossing her legs. Call sat down beside her, poking at the fleeing ants with a splinter of wood he had found coming off one of the nearby posts. She crossed her arms to her chest and glared ahead. “I just don’t understand what that woman meant. Ecclesia doesn’t feed vampires, it destroys them. I would know, my parents are on the council.”

Call sighed, thwarting a group of ants from walking into the training grounds. 

“Maybe there are things about Ecclesia that even your parents don’t know,” Call suggested, tired of always being at odds with Tamara. Aaron had said a surefire way to improve their friendship was to try and look at things from her point of view. And while Call himself was heavily biased against Ecclesia, Tamara’s outlook was probably a lot less judgemental in general. He couldn’t fully stop himself from hating Ecclesia, but maybe he could at least curb it a little. For her sake. “I actually think I might have a good place to start. Besides ‘Auntie Alma’, only one other person has mentioned my ring before, and while I wouldn’t trust him with a spoon,I think I might be able to get something out of him.”

“That's surprisingly helpful of you, Call,” Tamara praised, a small smile on her lips. She put a hand on his shoulder. “Tell me who it is. With two of us on his tail, we’ll pin him down in no time.”

“Oh, well, back on the plane, like right after the castle, Alex said the design was interesting or something,” Call shrugged, his eyes flickering up to gaze at the cloud that had decided to pass over the sun. The air smelled wet, like petrichor and stone. “Not that two people really need to go. I can probably just ask him in passing.”

Tamara shook her head, her eyes suddenly serious. Call thought she was about to get onto him for questioning Alex, and braced himself for yet another argument with her, but found himself unfortunately, shocked. It definitely wasn’t a pleasant realization.

“Call, while all this mole business is going on, we can’t let you go anywhere alone. It's just not safe.”

“I second Tamara on this one, Call,” Aaron announced, his mace resting on his shoulder easily. Jasper was walking just ahead of him, his hand rubbing his back end sorely. “They know they can’t take you out so they’re trying the next best thing, which is way worse.”

“You look like you’re having fun,” Call said sarcastically, poking Jasper with his elbow and pointedly ignoring Aaron and Tamara. The Asian boy glared hard at him, a very obvious smudge of dirt on his once white uniform slacks.

“He’s actually trying to kill me,” Jasper crossed his arms, attempting to look cool before Aaron swatted at him with the hilt of the mace. Call actually had no idea somebody could even hold a mace by its head. Jasper jumped forward before his hands went back to rub at his butt. “Ouch! What the hell, Goldilocks?”

“Your upper body strength could be better Jasper. You should always be ready for an atta--”

“Next time, I get to be partners with Call. Or literally anyone else except for him .” Jasper sighed, flopping beside Call and Tamara. Despite her eye roll, Tamara helpfully seared the ants that attempted to attack Jasper when his too-long legs nearly collided with the remnants of their home. “But, yeah Call. I’m agreeing with Tamara until otherwise bribed.”

“Whoever the mole is, they haven’t chosen to act until now,” Call sighed, pulling his knees to his chest as he glared at the passing ants. He wasn’t exactly sure why the idea of Tamara, Aaron, or even Jasper protecting him was so off-putting. It just felt wrong. Call was the immortal, all-powerful vampire here. Nothing except Vampire Killer could take him down; wasn’t it his job to protect everyone? “Sure they might have gotten close, but as long as we’re on guard from now on, what's the worst that could happen?”

“There's a whole lot of answers to that question that you shouldn’t have to ever think about,” Aaron said, dropping down to his side, and meeting his gaze head on. His lips were firmly shut, a frown threatening to consume his expression. He was so serious it almost made Call want to flinch. He didn’t. Past Call might have flinched, but he was a new person now. He had been reborn.  “Promise me you won’t try anything on your own, Call.”

Call blinked at him for a second, almost unfamiliar with his own thoughts and glanced briefly at Aaron who had decided to sit beside him.

“Yeah, I mean, what happens happens, I guess.”

It was almost evening by the time Call had finally gotten a chance to take Havoc on his daily walk. Call enjoyed these specific few hours of the day more than anything, even now in the autumn when the sun set long before night, and the leaves whispered something dangerous as they descended to the forest floor. While this was the same forest that had almost eaten him and Jasper alive, it was also the only chance Call had to remove his ring and let his aching wings free. It was a relief he hadn’t realized he needed until he had taken out his leathery, bat wings for the first time in this very place. But this time, he couldn’t take out his wings. This time he was waiting to meet someone in Ecclesia’s darkened forest.

Call had tried talking to Alex earlier in the day, with Tamara and Aaron around,  but the older boy was unsurprisingly busy in his own classes- even in the evening he was mostly in Morris’s serving up snacks. It was only late after his shift that Call had been able to grab an unsupervised second with him. And well, it had just so happened that neither Aaron nor Tamara had been able to go with him. Call would only begrudgingly admit he had forgotten to even ask Jasper, but that wasn’t something he was focusing on. 

Havoc let out a few barks before dashing in front of Call and grabbing at a tree root underfoot. Recently Havoc had realized he had the power to antagonize many things, not just insects and animals. Alastair had called it ‘teething’ when Havoc had nearly chewed through their dining table leg; Call could only reluctantly agree. It wasn’t like Havoc had the sole intention to destroy, or anything.

“Hey! Thanks for waiting for me, squirt. Things have been so busy with me heading out of town this coming week and all.” Alex greeted, dashing up beside him and patting Havoc’s head fondly. The dog sniffed at the air in a judgemental way before making awkward eye contact with Call and trotting some distance ahead. Alex put his ice cold hand on Call’s shoulder before grinning. “You said you wanted to talk to me, right? Rare for you to ask.”

“Yeah, well, beggars can’t be choosers,” Call responded mechanically, before realizing insulting someone probably wasn’t the best way to get them to disclose top-secret information. He needed to be charming, he needed to be like Constantine. “Uh, what I meant to say was, I’m also glad you finally had the chance to talk with me.”

Alex looked at him with what seemed like a ridiculously large amount of enthusiasm, and nodded at him encouragingly. Almost like he was unphased by Call’s initial remark. Either Alex was purposefully trying to fool him with his happy-go-lucky persona, or he really just shrugged it off. Call really didn’t know.

“Well, I guess, I was just wondering if you knew anything about my ring- the one you commented on back when we were in your plane?”

Alex stared at him for a moment, wide-eyed before flicking some of his brown hair off his shoulder. It was fairly long now that Call noticed it. 

“Listen, Call,” He paused in his steps and turned to face him,  placing his hands on Call’s shoulders. He didn’t look truly sad, for some reason Call couldn’t help but feel as if his mouth was just waiting to curve upwards again, his eyes begging to be lit with some misplaced joy. When he blinked again, Alex was still frowning, looking just as upset as earlier. Call was just imagining things. The darkness played with his vision sometimes. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, buddy. But, if you’ve got the ring with you-”

Call pulled his ring out from his shirt, careful to make sure it was still touching the skin of his hand. Unlike Constantine’s original ring, the design of his current ring was much simpler with fewer embellishments. Aside from a round metal frame that didn’t circle fully around, the red gem at the centre was unadorned. Call had no idea what Alma had recognized from it.

“This,” Alex stared deeply at the ring, even trying to take a hold of it before Call pulled away to a somewhat safe distance. He definitely seemed to recognize it in the least. “I mean, it looks a little bit like the Greek letter omega if you flip it upside down. Does that help you?”

“A Greek letter?” Call repeated looking down at his own ring. He flipped it upside down before frowning. It didn’t look much like any letter to him, it just looked like Alastair’s lazy craftsmanship. “Last time you said it looked familiar. Like you’d seen it before. I was wondering where you thought you’d seen it.”

Alex looked straight into his eyes then, the darkness seemingly providing no hindrance in his attempt to hold him in place with his gaze alone. It made Call want to call up his magic or fly far away. It made his skin crawl, like Alex was peeling him apart layer by layer to expose the small, frightened child Call most certainly wasn’t. 

Maybe it was the darkness that was freaking him out. 

“I honestly don’t remember what you’re talking about, squirt,” Alex said, the moment shattering and his cold arm back around his neck. He was walking then, leading them both back to Ecclesia. He didn’t want to tell him more, that was it. Call could see it behind his eyes, in his forced enthusiasm. “I might’ve seen this ring attending one of my mom’s meetings, somewhere at school; it really could have been anywhere.”

“Yeah,” Call said, whistling for Havoc to follow. “Right .”

When Call got back to his dorm, the cold grip of unease had yet to release him. Shadows still seemed to climb up the corners of his vision, haunting and fleeting. He found himself turning his head one too many times to glare at an empty wall, or obscured corner. Usually he found the night to be comforting, but something seemed different.

Before Call could even raise his key into the lock, Aaron threw open the door pulling him inside.

“Where were you, Call?” the blonde said pointedly, standing directly in front of him as soon as he entered. Call wasn’t sure why Aaron had decided to block him, but he felt glad to see the blonde. Walking back with Alex had felt off in some way, like he was expecting something wrong to happen at any second. Coming back to his dorm felt like a relief, like the warm embrace of light was a comfort or something. It was weird.

Call swallowed despite himself.

Even though Aaron was rivalling Ecclesia’s decorated lamp posts in height, and could scare away a horde of angry councilmen if he really wanted, when he wore his dinosaur themed pajama set it was pretty difficult to take him seriously. He seemed pretty set about not moving, so Call casually brushed past him, the metal of his ring cold against his skin. 

“I was back visiting the forbidden library,” Call deadpanned, swearing that Aaron lurched forward when he heard his response. He moved to sit on his bed, kicking off his muddied boots and collapsing backwards. “Where do you think I was? I was walking Havoc.”

Havoc yapped, suddenly excited and then moved to jump on Call’s bed, his paws and stomach leaving a large muddy mark on the sheets. Call shuddered, feeling warmth finally seep into his stiffened bones. He wondered if Havoc had felt it too. The unease, the fear.

“Walking Havoc doesn’t take forty minutes, Call.” Aaron said, turning to face him again. Call didn’t look back up to meet his eyes. Instead he pulled Havoc’s ears back and rubbed his head tenderly. The dog didn’t seem scared, nor had he prior to Alex’s arrival. Call himself had been too caught up in his own emotions to notice whether Havoc was uncomfortable or not. He was a terrible owner.

“I mean, I-”

Unprompted, a flurry of knocks rushed against their door before Call even had a chance to blink twice. Aaron stared wide-eyed at Havoc for a moment, who looked just a few seconds away from barking the roof off of their dorm. Call had nearly gotten in trouble for that. 

“Aaron Stewart, if you don’t open this door-” Tamara said from outside, and Call actually felt his own legs move to let her inside. He wasn’t surprised when Jasper practically fell in too. 

“Call- guys, I’ve got- my dad he-” Jasper sputtered for a second before blinking and just plopping down on Aaron’s bed. Call tilted his head at Tamara who only lowered her eyes, rubbing at her arm forlornly. Jasper cleared his throat, taking a deep breath. “My dad sent me a letter.”

Aaron blinked a few seconds after that, silence an uncomfortable, foreign thing that had fallen over them. Call himself wasn’t sure how to react. He remembered clearly when Jasper had told him he wouldn’t pursue his own father, but Jasper had never considered whether his dad would pursue him or not. 

“I thought-” Aaron bit his lip, moving to sit next to the other boy and place a solid hand on his shoulder. Jasper flinched hard at the motion. “How do you know it's from your dad? Are you sure someone isn’t just writing as him?”

“I know it's him- we sent letters before and this one… It's just like the others.” Jasper moved away from Aaron’s touch, wiping a hand down his face as he exhaled shakily. “Alma was the one who gave it to me.”

Call felt his brows lift, his fingers pausing mid-brush. 

“Ecclesia does background checks on the people that volunteer.” Tamara said, confusion surely mirroring the look in his own eyes. “It doesn’t make sense how she would even be able to get in. The process is arduous .”

“That is unless you already worked as a teacher here,” Jasper said matter-of-factly. He was no longer looking at any of them. His dark eyes were lowered, staring only at his crumbled palms. Call couldn’t tell if it was anger, or something else entirely in his gaze. He was afraid of seeing something close to hope. “A lot of the members of the Order of the End used to work or attend Ecclesia. My dad was one of them.” 

“And the Order of the End is…” Aaron prompted, his eyes narrowed.

“It's the cult.” Tamara clarified. Her lips were pursed and her tone was worried, but Call couldn’t see any anger present in her usually fiery eyes. Call suddenly wondered if she had ever met Jasper’s dad before. 

Jasper looked up suddenly, locking eyes with Call. 

“And he’s invited me and you specifically, Call, to attend a meeting. Tonight.”

Chapter Text

It couldn’t have been a coincidence. Jasper, Aaron, and Tamara were fervently discussing things, but Call couldn’t look past what had already occurred. He had no physical evidence whatsoever, but he just knew it. Eating bloodied rice, getting contacted by the head of the cult- being specifically requested to show up. They knew his identity. They had to.

“I’ll go in Call’s place. The mole is probably waiting there for him anyway. It’ll be safer here.” Aaron said defensively, his arm raised as Tamara began to nod her head emphatically.

“If one of us goes, then at least one needs to stay,” She added, her fists clenched at her side. “We have no idea what to expect there. There has to be someone who can inform the teachers if something goes awry.”

“If that's the case, I’m definitely going,” Jasper said, jutting his chin out. His eyes looked red and distant. “My dad will be looking for me anyway.”

“Do you guys think he’ll be there?” Call asked suddenly, his eyes searching their faces. Constantine Madden had gone missing the moment they had revived him, and while Call would never admit it, there was a relentless sort of fear that had wormed its way through his dead chest regarding the previous Dracula. Call knew death, there was nothing he should be afraid of, but Constantine was different.  There was an ageless sort of terror that clouded the previous Dracula in a mystery Call hoped to never understand. “The Order of the End works for him after all, right?”

Nobody spoke for a moment, their eyes conveniently wandering, or shadowed in a way that didn’t let Call examine their expressions properly. Their uncharacteristic silence made him nervous, it made their unsaid answer so much louder.

“Call should stay.” Aaron repeated, his expression cold and firm. Tamara took a deep breath through her nose and crossed her arms before nodding. Call hated that they thought they could decide for him

“We would be delivering Call right into their hands if we did take him and something did end up happening.” Tamara reasoned. 

Call didn’t want to be alone. It was his first thought, as shocking and stupid as it was, it made him realize he didn’t want to get left behind. He didn’t want to be protected from afar. He had let Alastair do that for long enough already, and he could already mourn at the tombstone that had gotten him. 

“You guys can’t just all go and expect me not to,” He said incredulously, moving to sit on his bed once again. He gazed up at his friends, his gaze hard and flinty. It wasn’t like any of them could stop him from going if he wanted to, either. 

“You have a very important job here, Call,” Tamara said, placing her hand on his shoulder. Call shrugged it off almost immediately. “If we aren’t back by dawn, you have to alert the teachers. You also would be a lot safer here at Ecclesia. You said it yourself. We don’t know who’ll be there. The mole is probably the one who asked for you to come in the first place.”

“We need to be there by midnight,” Jasper said unhelpfully, seemingly unaffected by Call’s predicament. While Call could usually get a vote from Jasper in his favour, the Asian boy seemed wholly consumed by the thought of his father. Call would never blame him for it. Instead he scowled at Aaron and Tamara. 

“Okay, fine. I’ll stay here.” He slumped onto his bed and felt Havoc climb on top of his waist to half sit on him. The warmth was honestly comforting. “Where should I tell the teachers to go if you guys don’t show up before dawn? The cult?”

“You can give them the entry poem too,” Jasper shrugged, grabbing a spare sheet of paper from Aaron's side table to jot down a few words. Call didn’t even reach to examine the paper’s contents. 

“Thanks for trusting m- us, Call,” Aaron said, turning back to give him a sincere, yet fleeting look. Call rolled his eyes. He was beyond annoyed despite his effort in hiding it for Jasper. Aaron was just pushing him. “That means a lot.”

“Have fun,” Call said, his voice deadpan and hand barely waving.  Aaron gave him a discreet smile before slipping off into the night, his shadow melting into the darkness.

The last glimpse of the night sky Jasper saw was starried and bright. When he pulled himself down the last iron-wrought ladder, all light disappeared leaving him completely submerged in the foul smelling darkness. The air was acrid and wet in the massive sewage pipes that led from the well, all the way to Cardinal Grave’s office. All of Ecclesia used one giant sewage system, and here they were trudging through the thick of it. Jasper wrinkled his nose.

Aaron and Tamara had been chattering away happily during their entire escapade making it seem more like a field trip than a dangerous mission. While Jasper wasn’t exactly complaining, their conversations weren’t the most helpful thing. Tamara had been so busy chatting it up with Aaron she had yet to light a flame. 

“You know, I’m not sure if either of you has noticed, but I honestly feel like I’ve been giving Call the short end of the stick,” She announced, jumping over something and nearly walking into Jasper’s back. While Tamara had been taller than him all throughout junior high, now in their third year of highschool, Jasper could finally claim authority in height- at least as long as Aaron wasn’t around. “And you know, I’m really not trying to, but he has such strong opinions about things he doesn’t understand.”

Aaron let out a sigh, scratching at the back of his head. When Tamara looked at him, he immediately straightened up and nodded. Jasper briefly wondered how many times he'd heard some variation of this conversation.

“I mean, he doesn’t know anything about Ecclesia, or the good things they do- and sure, every church is going to have done its share of bad things, but Call refuses to acknowledge the good.” Tamara continued, waving her hands as she walked past Jasper. She thankfully had conjured a small flame now, that flickered against the walls causing odd misshapen shadows to bounce around wickedly. They were the only ones down here, weren’t they? Jasper didn’t know about any monsters that liked mucking around in sewage pipes. Although a moist, dark environment was the prime breeding ground for a multitude of things. “I mean, I know I haven’t been the most friendly to him lately, but I’ve been trying haven’t I?”

“Neither of you want to sit down and hear the other person out,” Aaron said, leaping gracefully over a large depression in the ground filled with bright green sludge and the occasional lump of discoloured matter. Jasper wasn’t sure what he was looking at, and leaned down nearly flinching as a heated bubble popped in the thick green liquid. The scent made him feel his dinner start to come back up. “A difference of opinions doesn't have to mean a rift in a relationship.”

Jasper couldn’t stop himself from snorting, gaining the attention of both of his friends.

“What?” Tamara asked accusingly, pausing their adventure to place her hand on her hip.

“No-thing,” Jasper said in an annoying sing-song voice, smirking. She let an annoyed puff of breath out before crossing her arms. 

“Let's hear it, we’re all being honest here, aren’t we?”

“I just think,” Jasper started, moving backwards to shove his face towards her. She flinched at the proximity, her dark eyes fierce. “If being a Belmont doesn't work out for Aaron, he should be a counselor. You could be a politician. ”

Aaron stared thoughtfully at them for a second before Jasper pulled away, and fully examined the blonde’s face. Whatever was there was gone now, however much that annoyed him. Probably stupid Belmont thoughts swirling around, anyway. What could Jasper be missing?

“Oh yeah, and that was an observation, Aaron- not a compliment.” Jasper proceeded walking straight ahead, his eyes straining to make out some sort of distinction in the round, dripping walls that surrounded them. Aside from a larger mound of grime and debris, the tunnels were practically identical. Alma had told him to look for the ‘end’ of the sewage pipes. Whether that had been metaphorical or literal was still something Jasper was trying to figure out. ”You get enough compliments as it is anyway.”

“Thanks for your observation then, Jasper,” Aaron said curtly, turning to look at him as he passed by. He almost walked into a disgusting pool of green, but  jumped at the last second to avoid it. Jasper didn't mention how badly he had wanted to see that.

”Well at least you two are friends now,” Tamara sighed, her flame igniting slightly more. It hissed wildly, a long curl of smoke wrapping around her arm.  Aaron sneezed when it tickled his nose. Even the fire appeared to be miserable in the stifling tunnels, the smell of moldering trash mixing horribly with the smell of burning flame. Tamara paused, looking around the pipes for the first time. Jasper wanted to laugh about it, but he felt like he might be sick if he tried. “Do you actually know where we're going?”

Aaron paused, looking around mindlessly

“She said once you find the end of the tunnels, you'll find the chance to prove yourself.” Jasper blinked at his surroundings, completely at a loss despite his unwillingness to admit it. “I mean, what's the end of Ecclesia’s sewage? The Cardinal’s toilet?” 

“No, the end of the sewage is probably where all these pipes are draining out- it probably is a nearby source of fresh, running water.” Tamara put her hand to her chin, thinking about something useful for the first time since they had entered. Jasper thought it was cute, but Aaron looked like he wanted to slap a hand down his face. “Are either of you familiar with any lakes or rivers around Ecclesia?”

“I don’t know if these pipes are draining anywhere, Tamara,” Aaron murmured, using his sword to poke into the green muck. When he pulled it out, webs of the mucus-like substance clung to it, miscellaneous clumps of something visible in between. The blonde frowned warily. “Are you sure she’s not trying to trick us?” 

“Maybe we should just keep walking for now,” Tamara suggested, looking about with curiosity. If there was one thing that hadn’t changed about her, it was the fact Tamara would never turn down the chance to explore. “We’ve barely been in here for ten minutes.”

And so, with neither boy having any particular problem with that, they continued. The walls didn’t change in any drastic way, and if possible the smell seemed to get worse. It was like it was stuck in his hair, his mouth, his everything. But really, the nauseating scent was the least disgusting thing stuck to him. There was green slime on his usually pristine, white sneakers. There was also definitely something oozing on his shoulder from the one time he accidentally nicked the wall, and the worst part of it all was the fact his watch only read half past ten. That meant this horrible, stinking excursion had only been going on for half an hour. How long were they supposed to keep wandering aimlessly?

“We’re going back.” Aaron said suddenly, stopping mid-step. Both Jasper and Tamara walked into his back. The blonde turned, looking sheepish for a moment before looking irritated once again. “There isn’t an end to these stupid tunnels. We were tricked. We can find another way to find the cul-”

A slow, dramatic clap sounded just behind them, and Jasper turned slowly, unsure if he really wanted to see what was going on behind him. A cloaked figure stepped forward, a lantern flickering green hanging off of his gloved wrist. He stood slightly shorter than Aaron, his face obscured by the ridiculous amounts of cloth the hood was made from. It looked to Jasper like something he might have bought as a costume in junior high. 

“It took you long enough. The ‘end’ is never actually the true end… Such is deat-”

“Are you telling me you were following us this entire time, waiting for one of us to say that?” Tamara asked, her brows raised and eyes fiery.

“Well, that's the point of the trial,” The man said, his voice sounding slightly taken aback. “So you understand what The Order of the End stands for. It's in the name-”

“That is the most stupid waste of time-” Jasper turned, in complete shock to see Aaron biting his lip and stopping himself from saying whatever he had planned to finish that statement with. The blonde seemed even more ticked off than Jasper. Could that be the Belmont’s weakness? A bad night’s rest? The blonde put his hand on the hilt of his sword. “You’re going to take us to the cult right now, or else.”

The man coughed, bringing a glove to pull at his hood before motioning with his hand meekly. 

“The key to breaking free of the magic array is to know you’re in one,” The man whispered, his voice oddly pitched. Jasper guessed it was to try and change how he normally sounded so they wouldn’t recognize him, but Aaron still didn’t seem like he was taking any of the man’s antics. “After that, all you have to do is search for the single difference -”

“You don’t have to make a voice, we already know anyway,” The blonde said, a shadow under his eyes. Now that Jasper looked at him, he did look tired. Tired and pissed as hell. When he discreetly nudged the blonde, Aaron sighed. “It's Master Lemuel, just look at the way he walks.”

Jasper eyed the man and noticed he toddled forward slowly, his arms slightly outstretched as if he needed help keeping balance. Call had once likened him to a clumsy landbird, and Jasper had never forgotten it. He was more like a bird than he was a teacher. 

“Coulda’ guessed,” Jasper laughed as the cloaked man froze before he began scuttling forward in a completely different way. Tamara also slowed down, making a soft expression toward the blonde. Jasper felt vomit coming up his throat, and for the first time in nearly an hour, it wasn’t because of the stench. 

“I’m fine, Tamara. I just want to get back soon,” Aaron explained, his grimace softening into something that looked more like exhaustion. “I’m also a little bit worried about Call being alone, he-”

“He doesn't need to babysat,” Jasper interjected,  watching as Lemuel pulled a half covered lever near one of the sludge pools. The sound of whirring metal echoed in the tunnel before a large metal canoe fell from what looked to be the ceiling. A nearby sewer door, what Jasper had previously thought to be another dead-end, slowly unsealed itself, a rush of sewage spilling out of its mouth. When he stood on his tiptoes, he could just barely see the glow of the moon again. “Got that, Belmont?”

“Come get in the boat already,” Lemuel said dryly, wiping some sewer water off of his billowing cloak. There was no way that thing hadn’t collected enough sewage itself to start its own little cesspool. Jasper snickered as he stepped past the man. “You kids are getting on to me about time-”

“Don’t even start.” Tamara interrupted, sitting beside Aaron with her arms folded. Jasper plopped down next to Lemuel and watched him as he carefully maneuvered the canoe onto a chained mechanism. 

For a second he wasn’t sure what exactly was occurring, but then he realised the boat was being lowered down the waterfall of sewage- gently. When they reached the surface of the lake, they were propelled by Lemuel’s slow, rhythmic rowing towards another cavern- though this one looked more like an actual cave than a sewer. Jagged rocks peaked through the shallow waters, dark and vengeful in the night’s shadows. A few times, Jasper thought one might scratch their ride, but no harm seemed to come near them.

“Why did you join the cult?” Tamara asked suddenly, causing their teacher to pause in his actions to huff. Aaron leaned forward slightly himself, looking interested in the man’s answer. 

“In a world like this, the only people who win are those who go after what they want. I don’t care about Dracula or the damned church…Everything goes to hell somewhere.” Lemuel paused in his rambling to turn back towards them and sigh. “You three weren’t the only ones learning during all your adventures and whatnot.”

“What did you learn?” Aaron asked, his eyes wide and innocent; almost like he actually wanted to hear what the man had to say. His frustration seemed to have taken the back seat as sympathy filled his voice, his expression softening. Jasper rolled his eyes, crossing his legs.

“If you want to learn about what made me make this decision then you can find every answer you want in the Necromancy Laboratory. I swore on my life I’d never go back there, and I won’t.” Lemuel whispered, his voice bouncing off the walls of the cavern and echoing in their ears like a promise. Jasper folded his hands behind his head before he noticed they had stopped moving. 

“Why’d we stop exactly?”

Lemuel took a deep breath in through his nose before flipping his hood off and rowing in the opposite direction. 

“You kids are going back to Ecclesia.” Lemuel answered, shaking his head. “I’m not taking you to the cult.”

“Wait, what?” Tamara asked, almost standing and knocking her head on the low ceiling of the cavern. The slight squeak of a few bats made her reclaim her seat very fast. “What do you mean?”

“Your father’s not here right now, Jasper. He apparently had urgent business in New York. Our stand-in leader wrote that message. He’s a conniving prick is what he really is.” Lemuel continued rowing, not meeting any of their eyes. “They only really wanted Call anyway, and he’s not here. I’ll just tell them you never even showed.”

They returned back to the waterfall of green sludge, and Lemuel once again positioned their boat into the chain mechanism, his movements slow and deliberate. It was like he was daring them to stop him. 

Jasper wasn’t sure how he felt being conned so easily. He had expected a trap, sure, but he hadn’t expected complete falsification. He had felt so many things having suddenly heard from his father, but just like every other time it was all just a disappointment. He didn’t even know why he suddenly thought to care anymore.

“Why did they want Call?” Aaron asked, looking somewhat relieved.

“Alastair Hunt has a sort reputation in the cult. Let's just say they’d get revenge in any way they could.”

Aaron and Tamara glanced at each with confusion written across their faces, but didn’t press him for answers. They sat in silence for a few more minutes before Aaron looked at Lemuel, really looked at him and chewed his lips somewhat sullenly.

“What…What made you change your mind about delivering us to the cult? We were almost there, weren’t we?” The blonde blinked, looking down at his feet, his thumbs twiddling absentmindedly. “It's not like  I was very nice to you, anyways.”

“You’re all trying something. I don’t know what you're doing, or if it’ll be any good, but I mean it's more good than the church is doing. And if I delivered you, the Belmont, into the enemy’s hands, I just don’t think I’d ever forgive myself.” Lemuel stopped the ship to watch Tamara and Jasper hop off before placing the dripping oar down across the canoe. “The Necromancy Lab is on your home-turf, but don’t let your guard down. I think that's one of the worst parts of the entire thing.”

Aaron blinked at him for a second before furrowing his brow and nodding.

“We won’t forget this. I swear.”

Call had thought about a great many things by the time midnight had passed. He had even gotten bored enough to open one of his textbooks and start mindlessly reading through it like a maniac. That had sent him dozing pretty fast, sleep sealing his lids shut. Briefly, Call thought he heard Havoc barking loudly- almost incessantly but he felt too weak to open his eyes. Now that sleep had claimed him, he couldn’t escape its grasp. He didn’t think of another thought.

When he opened his eyes again, Call felt drowsy, his limbs limp and head aching. That was only the start of his problem though: his bed was gone- his entire dorm had been replaced by a place his soul craved, and mind loathed. He was back in Dracula's Castle. It wasn’t the familiar stone walls that reminded him he had returned, no- it was the cold shiver of death that kissed his skin, the shadows that warped the walls and ceilings- it was the continuation of a nightmare he could never escape. 

Without thinking, Call shakily rose to his feet and struck the wall with his fist. The stone wall of the castle crumbled under his anger, cutting into his knuckles. Even as Call slowly drew his hand back to examine the quickly healing flesh, he felt a cold sort of dread settling in his stomach. He wasn't dreaming. He was physically in Dracula's Castle. Again .

Before he had time to think about what that meant, a young man rushed past him, his dark hair familiar even in his haste: Alastair. Not Call’s Alastair, but it was definitely his father at some previous point in time. And just like in his previous dreams, Alastair rushed past him without any notice. Call glanced once again at the crumbling wall, and shook his head. It was just a dream and dashed after him. 

Alastair was gasping for air and holding his chest when he finally stopped, his grey eyes wild and searching. He kept at it after his brief moment of respite; he ran until he collapsed in front of an entryway. 

“Sarah?” Alastair called, and Call froze behind him as he heard a stifled response. His mother was here. Call didn’t follow after his father as he disappeared further into the entryway. He froze, looking between his feet and the doorway with a pained sort of longing in his heart. He wasn’t going to walk forward and find his mom bleeding out, was he? Call wasn’t sure that was something he could live with. When he heard conversation, Call released a breath he didn’t need and inched forward. 

A very heavily pregnant Sarah sat at the foot of the angel statue, her hair messily pleated and eyes watery. Alastair, who stood across from her looked a complete mess in comparison. Now that he had stopped running, Call finally noticed human bloodstains all over his rugged attire, even clotted in his dark hair and smudged across his face. 

“You shouldn’t have come here,” Alastair said, his eyes still wild and emotional in a way Call rarely saw. His fists were shaking by his side, he was undoubtedly injured.  There was something else in his stance- the crooked posture, his shivering frame, to Call it almost looked like fear. “Did Declan bring you here? What was he thinking-?”

“The last time you went to help Constantine, you were gone for months, Alastair.  Months .” Sarah looked up at him, her amber eyes weary. Call couldn’t stop staring at her, couldn’t stop imagining what life might have been like with her in it. Her voice reminded him of the first pinks of dawn, of spring’s gentle embrace.“I know he’s your best friend, but I’m your wife. The baby is due this month. I needed to be with you so I came.”

Alastair blinked and Call swore there were tears in his eyes, his thin lips quivering ever so slightly. Call had never seen his father cry before. He didn’t think it was something that could physically happen. But the Alastair he was seeing wasn’t the man he had grown up with. Call had realized that the first vision he had seen of his father. 

Alastair sank down next to Sarah, wrapping his arms around her waist and pressing his face into her neck. She placed a hand in his hair and gently brushed through the strands, holding him. His breathing steadied after a moment. 

“I was so wrong, Sarah,” Alastair murmured, shaking his head. “All that time I thought I was helping him, but I couldn’t.”

Sarah hugged him a bit tighter as he spoke. Alastair couldn’t see her expression, but Call could and he saw the crease of her brow, the frown of her lips- the glassy tears that accompanied her soft voice. She was mourning just as much as Alastair was.

“You did everything you could for him, Alastair. I know you did.” Her hand paused mid-brush as she stared thoughtfully at her shoes. “I honestly don’t think it was ever about how much you did. Connie- he just wasn’t able to accept it anymore.”

Alastair grunted an affirmation, his face still obscured from Call’s view.

“You’re right. You’re always right.” He remained frozen like that before taking an especially ragged breath and moving to stand again. “The Constantine we knew…I think he died when Jericho did.”

Sarah choked back a sob at that, her hair falling over her face as a tear traced down the curve of her jaw.

“So you’re going to-?”

“It should be me. I started this mess. He- he’d be insulted if it wasn’t me.” Alastair said, in explanation, his hand drawing down his face as he desperately tried to erase the emotion there. Call could imagine he had said those words with some memory in mind only to realise his reality. Only to realise he had to be the one to end his own friend. Call felt the sudden urge to run and embrace his dad, but something kept his feet glued to the spot he was at. He didn’t belong in a world where both his mother and father were. That was something he would never be a part of. “I’ll be back soon, Sarah. I promise.”

“I’ll be here waiting for you,” She replied, her smile tinged with sorrow and hands shaking. Alastair looked over her one more time before nodding and disappearing back from where he had come.  

Call stayed where he was, staring holes into his mother’s face- he was desperate to remember every detail so when he woke up he wouldn’t forget. She had dark hair, just like his and large, expressive eyes that caught the light of the surrounding candles. Her skin was warm and healthy- the exact colour Call’s had been before he had become a vampire. Call wondered if that was what Alastsir saw anytime he looked at him: the small remnants of the wife he had once loved. She turned towards him then, her glittering eyes meeting his. The action almost shocked Call to death.

“Alastair? Did you come back?” She whispered into the still air, her eyes ever searching. Call took a tentative step backwards only to find hard stone at his heels. The entrance to the room had all but disappeared, which wasn’t an odd thing in the castle, but it was odd it had happened in a dream. Sarah shakily got to her feet. “Who’s there?”

Blinking, Call desperately looked around himself searching for a place to hide, or escape into, but the room was solid and empty. She was nearly upon him by the time he had finished his nervous examination, a familiar silver dagger in her hand. 

“You- your-” She looked into his face thoughtfully, her hands shaking as she stared ahead. Call stared right back at her, noticing her rounded nose and small stature. He was already taller than her, just at sixteen. Her arm lunged forward then, fast for a woman so heavily pregnant, and buried her dagger deep into his stomach. “A monster! A vampire! How did you get in here-?!”

The sensation was life-like, like an explosion of heat, and then searing hot pain- the silver had to be burning away at his cursed flesh. It didn’t hurt anywhere near as bad as Joseph’s spectral blades, but Call still didn’t move. He was stuck frozen in place, his very worst nightmare brought to life. He had always known she would hate him- though that could never drive him to hate her.

Sarah took a few steps backwards, and took a hold of her stomach, sneering. Laughter followed shortly after, her voice eventually growing deeper. Suddenly, a dark sort of magic rose to pull at her clothes, hair, and skin until there was a completely different person standing before Call. The magic had eaten away at her clothes, leaving her soft skin revealed to any wandering eyes; a pair of large webbed wings flapping on her back and a seductive smile pulled at her bloodied lips. He knew what she was before she spoke, and she most certainly wasn’t his mother.

“Such a foolish little boy, aren’t you? You’ll allow yourself to be bloodied so long as it's mommy , hm?” 

Call ripped the bloodied dagger out of his stomach, careful to not let any of the pain show on his face because while it did hurt, knowing a Succubus - a creature from his own Castle- dare impersonate his mother was far more angering. There was also the fact she was defying him, but Call hadn’t really been ordering them to do anything. He hadn’t really realised that was something he could do. 

“How dare you-” He started, swiping towards her with dark energy. His hand barely missed her form as she disappeared into a swirl of pinkish magic. In an instant, a dozen copies surrounded him, their claws pulling at his hair and skin as if she was trying to tear his dead heart from his chest. Call burned one with a few flames but quickly found himself smothered.

“Let me taste you,” She whispered, her voice echoing around him like a promise. Call continued using fire until he felt something scarily sharp and wet scrape against his neck. Grimacing, he summoned a large storm of bats to surround him in a protective shield, their number nearly infinite. Within a second, a majority of the Succubus copies dissipated, her magic feeble in comparison to his own. Call grinned, lunging toward one of the remaining copies. This time when he grabbed her by her throat, she choked painfully, her eyes glazed. 

“Your youth, your beauty…” She traced a finger down his face, paying no mind to the fact he was practically strangling her. Call had at least expected her to struggle a little bit. “Only the Dark Lord could tempt so deliciously-”

“You’ll tell me why you did this, and who sent you, and then you’ll let me leave.” Call ordered, choosing to ignore her words and his very heated face. While he was mad, and he definitely was the Dark Lord, it wasn’t exactly like he could just ignore the fact she was saying very embarrassing stuff. Her lack of attire didn't really help either. He had no idea where to look.

“My Lord, I was summoned only for your pleasure. Your touch alone has me heated and writhing-”

Call dropped her unceremoniously on the floor, taking enough space for Havoc, Alastair, and Jesus to fit between them. While releasing an enemy might not be the best idea, he had quickly found how ‘difficult’ it was to subdue her so a second fight wouldn’t take too much out of him. He kneeled down, drawing Sarah’s real dagger and smirking toothily. 

“It's simple: you can start talking now, or you can burn alive in the next three seconds,” Call waved the dagger in her face a bit before standing up fully. So much for a good night’s rest. “You have two seconds to answer.”

The Succubus blinked at him warily, her red eyes glittering before bowing before him, her shrill cries pitiful.

“My Lord! It was a human summoner! By his blood was I bound- I never would’ve revolted against you otherwise! He told me to torment you, to cut you up into-”

“What did he look like?” Call interrupted, unsure he wanted to hear every exact detail. Whoever the mole was, they really had it out for him. He tried to think of a list of every person he had wronged, but when he found the number exceeding ten, he felt like it might be more deserved then he realized. It probably wasn’t healthy to empathise with someone who was trying to kill you.

“His hair was muddied, his eyes were clear. His shoulders were broad, and breath sweet…” The Succubus paused to sigh, a hand wrapping around her own waist. Call felt a brow quirk, very confused. 

“Did he have a name? Or what, did you call him sweet breath?”

“The Lord is very wise,” She said, rising to her hooved feet. She took a step toward him, her eyes slightly watery. “It's been many years since you last called us. Death has yet to quell the uprisings among our ranks.”

“I have a Death?” Call muttered, more to himself than her, but her inquisitive brow told him she had definitely heard him. If Death was someone that was supposed to help him, where was he at? It would have been nice to not get stabbed in the stomach randomly. She opened her mouth in response before sighing and pushing toward him. 

“Forgive me my Lord, it seems my magic can hold you no longer. I would love to meet again.” And with a kiss on his cheek, she melted away from his vision, her echoing laughter nightmarish. It happened so fast, Call barely realized the difference between the waking world and his dream… But, with Havoc on top of him and Tamara and Aaron at his sides, it was pretty hard to deny reality. The real question was how long he had been asleep for.  

 “Call!” Aaron nearly shouted, causing him to wince. Call, squirmed uncomfortably for a moment before wiping some water off his face. His hand came back covered in his own blackish blood- completely dark and gross. Whatever had happened with the Succubus seemed to have reflected back on his real body, leaving him a mess. “You- you’re bleeding!”

“You also have a kiss mark on your cheek, but I don’t know if that's important to mention right now,” Jasper murmured, leaning around Havoc to smirk at him. Whatever had happened with his dad seemed to have been okay, which was a relief to Call. He hadn’t wanted to admit it, but Call had been afraid Jasper might have chosen to stay there. 

“I met a succubus,” he murmured, moving to sit up. His abdomen was most likely already stitching itself back together, but the sheer amount of pain movement brought him had him laying back down instantly. Aaron caught his head in his hand before awkwardly moving away.

“And you kissed her?” The blonde asked, seemingly more concerned with whatever romance might have occurred than what he was actually saying. Call had never pegged the blonde as a romantic, but maybe he was wrong. He had been wrong about him many times before after all.

“Aaron, generally succubi do a lot more than just kissing,” Tamara said worriedly, her hand pushing at his sweaty bangs. She eyed him like she was waiting for him to burst out sobbing before swallowing and averting her gaze. “Your injuries seem to be healing well at least.”

Aaron’s eyes were wide after her comment, something close to horrified shock clouding the usual bright green. He looked at Call like he was begging for him to deny it, only for Jasper to speak before he got any such confirmation. 

“She definitely kissed him.” 

“Can I tell my story? Sheesh ,” Call deliberately glanced up at the blonde before continuing, making sure he was maintaining his expression. They had all made him wait here alone, which in Call’s opinion definitely warranted at least a little bit of exaggerated anticipation. Especially Aaron. He had been the one to suggest Call’s staying in the first place. “It all started back in the castle…”

Chapter Text

Their battle with the Gravedorcus had been prolonged due to Magnus’s apparent incapability. Despite his lean build, he had drawn a rapier of all things to face the giant, armoured land fish. Alastair had been sure Ecclesia wouldn't have put anyone on his tail that didn't have some capability in the realm of combat; they didn't explicitly want him dead now, but that option was never too far removed. But seeing the man fight in real time had made Alastair realise how completely wrong he had been. Magnus was not a fighter- not in any sense of the word.

The battle aside, the situation by itself was very odd. Alastair had found a cursed relic buried deep within the corpse of the monster- a relic used to exert control over creatures. He hadn’t seen anything like it for years, but Constantine was no longer Dracula and that meant he no longer had hordes to command. To procure such a thing in such a short amount of time though… Alistair had been sure there must have been something actually worth protecting. Unless Constantine had left this behind as a pointer for someone. Where were cursed relics usually found?

"You've been staring at the ground a while now," Magnus said, lifting a dark brow. While he seemed to have returned to his normal, light-hearted self there still seemed a sort of disquiet around him. He plopped onto the dirt, exhaustion lining his young face. "We should return back to our room, hm?"

"Would you accept a bribe to leave?"

Magnus smiled sweetly, the blade of his rapier glowing in the moonlight. Alastair wasn't even sure if it was an actual weapon, or just an ornamental piece to show off. Maybe it had been in his family, but it didn’t seem capable of inflicting much damage- not that swords usually did much against armoured creatures like the Gravedorcus.

"I do accept charity, but don't expect it to drive me away. I like to stay close to my benefactors.”

“What about your enemies? Want to keep close to them too?” Alastair questioned, less because he wanted to know Magnus’s answer and more to try and feel out his situation.

They had both spent a few months around one another which had allowed Alastair to glean a few important things from the clergymen. One, he wasn’t out for blood, and judging by his actions, seemed to avoid violence for the most part. Two, he was a slippery, evasive sort of person which almost promised some hidden motive or ten. One minute he would be trailing after Alastair and the next he would be gone. His agility might have been able to be attributed to his youth, but Alastair swore it was near inhuman sometimes. Lastly and most importantly, Magnus almost never seemed to contact Ecclesia. Alastair had watched him for a time and found the man to live a deceivingly simple life. It was maddening.

“I have had a life full of loss up to this point, but my enemies are few.” Magnus smiled up at Alastair, his pale face cheerful. “I consider that a blessing.”

Suppressing a groan, Alastair ran a hand through his dark hair and leaned against a tree. He felt exhausted, but this entire situation had gone on for one too many months. Magnus couldn’t even fight, he would be killed going into a battle with Constantine, or worse he would get Alastair killed. Unfortunately, being the father of Dracula didn’t warrant him the luxury of having few enemies and it seemed like this relic was only going to lead him to meeting more. If Alastair was on the right track, he needed to be making his way northward, towards a certain magic shoppe in New York.

“This isn’t going to work. You’ve done a lot to preserve your life- I don’t know how old you are, but if you’re going to keep at it you need to return to Ecclesia. This arrangement we have can’t persist.” Alastair didn’t look towards Magnus when he made his statement. He did draw his revolver and ensure it was fully loaded. He was sure his actions spoke far clearer than his words did. “I’ll take you back to the port and that's where we’ll go our separate ways-”

Magnus stood then, tall and foreboding in the dark night, his recently cleaned rapier still clasped in his thin hand. His glasses had been cracked only slightly, his eyes alight with some unidentifiable emotion. Alastair wasn’t exactly sure how he was going to take the statement, but he had to accept it. There was no other way.

“I was entrusted by the church to keep an eye on your actions and whereabouts.” Magnus took a tentative step forward, which Alastair felt was very threatening, and looked up towards him hopefully. “You’ve already revealed your involvement and knowledge on various topics regarding the church- to abandon my mission now would be criminal!”

“If you can’t make the decision yourself I will use force,” Alastair muttered, glancing up at the man through his uncut hair. Call’s future was in jeopardy every minute Constantine put another plan into motion, every second he walked the earth. Magnus didn’t understand anything, and if he wasn’t willing to understand, Alastair would have to make him. He didn’t have time to coddle another adult. “It's your choice to turn me into an enemy or not.”

“A choice like that is no choice at all.” Magnus whispered, his voice choked full of resentment. When Magnus lunged forward his rapier pointing towards Alastair’s throat, his eyes gleamed with rage and a touch of sorrow. He was a pitiful person- hateable too Alastair had learned. “You should repent, Alastair. For lying… For all of your other sins.” 

“You first.” Alastair growled, kicking him hard in the stomach before dropping to his knees to roll out of the vulnerable position. Magnus sliced at his open back, but the cut wasn’t deep enough to make Alastair so much as flinch. He pointed his revolver straight towards the younger man and took a breath. “Lunge at me again, and I will shoot. You can thank your precious ‘god’ I didn’t shoot you on your first attempt.”

Magnus breathed roughly through his nose, his eyes wild and body shaking. He glanced toward the moon before clutching his chest, his lips quivering as if he was on the verge of tears. Alastair watched him warily, before rising to his own feet and stepping forward.

“Drop your rapier.” He ordered sternly and when Magnus refused to comply, Alastair approached him with the barrel of his gun snugly pressed against his chest as he wrested the weapon from his grip. Magnus didn’t meet his eyes this time, his gaze defiantly fixed onto his feet. “Back to the ship. You’ll get your weapon back as soon as I’m… Well, uh, as soon as I’ve packed my things.”

Magnus didn’t say a word but if his expression said anything, this was far from the end of this encounter. The trip back to the coast was fairly uneventful, even the steps taken to return to their suite had been relatively peaceful. The moment that Alastair had opened the door to their shared room, Magnus grabbed the back of his head and slammed it into the nearest wall, all of the anger and vitriol he had been harbouring exploding in one terrifying display of strength. 

Alastair was reeling, wondering where this had been when they had been fighting the Gravedorcus. With his glasses nearly smashed into his eyes, and head pulsing he figured he could wonder about that at a later time. 

“To think I had even considered understanding you!” Magnus exclaimed, pulling the revolver out of Alastair’s holster as he recovered from the blow to his head. That wasn’t good, but Magnus was young and Alastair was almost positive he could use that to his advantage. If there was one thing he was almost sure of, it was that Magnus had never taken another human’s life. “This is my first mission for the church so it must go exceedingly well. If you refuse to comply, well then I can use force.”

“Unoriginal,” Alastair murmured, sagging a bit as he finally removed the last shard of glass from his face. He was lucky he didn’t lose an eye today. Without wasting a second, Alastair moved forward to grab ahold of Magnus’s wrist and pointed the gun straight towards his own chest. The clergyman pulled away from him, but Alastair didn’t budge. “Go ahead then. Shoot me. That's the only way.” 

Magnus released the firearm, kicking it swiftly behind Alastair and beneath the loveseat. Alastair followed it with his eyes feeling somewhat glad he had guessed correctly. A bullet in the chest would have been significantly more difficult to recover from than whatever Magnus was currently planning.

“We’ll solve this as the ancients did: man to man. Who ever is incapacitated first-”

“Do you want to just flip a coin or something?” Alastair asked, reaching into his back pocket for his wallet. His fingers found the pouch on his utility belt instead- the one for specialized ammunition. “I feel like it would take less time and cost less in medical bills-”

“Don’t you dare take this lightly, Alastair Hunt!” Magnus yelled, slipping his arm underneath Alastair’s before twisting and launching the shorter man over his shoulder. Alastair actually felt the air leave his lungs when he hit the ground, but not before Magnus stared down at him, his eyes fiery. 

Alastair barely rolled out of the way as the clergyman dropped down suddenly, the force of his weight all concentrated in one elbow; he had been about to elbow drop him. Still catching his breath, Alastair managed a few steps backwards before tripping back onto the bed and falling into a safety roll. Magnus didn’t waste a second in pinning him there, looking more animal than man. 

“You didn’t mention your- your wrestling history,” Alastair said, unsure if he was still feeling dizzy from being thrown onto the floor, or slammed into a wall. At least the bed had some cushion for his back. “Would have been helpful earlier.”

“You had it under control,” Magnus replied through clenched teeth, his dark hair curtaining Alistair’s peripheral and forcing him to make eye contact. Even in his anger, it was clear Magnus wasn’t aiming to actually kill. Each of his strikes was clearly restrained to inflict maximum pain and minimal damage; it required a fair amount of skill to execute.  With a skillset like his and the sort of resources he had at his disposal, Alastair was sure he could make quite the difference in the world if he wanted. It was a damn shame he was selling himself to the church. “Things didn’t have to be this way.”

“You're right, they didn’t.” Alastair said, jolting his hips hard enough to force Magnus forward and release one of his arms. It was all he needed. Quickly grabbing the tranquilizer he had loosed earlier, Alastair grabbed it and stabbed it hard into the taller man’s back, watching in silent satisfaction as his face began to go slack. It only took a second before Magnus collapsed fully on top of Alastair, completely unconscious. “We could have just done a coin toss.”

The obstacle course was underwater. It was completely underwater and underneath the blazing, hot sun. Call had watched the initial pair of students leap in with no problems, but Call wasn’t like them. He wasn’t wearing swimming trunks first off, and he definitely wasn’t jumping into a random river no matter how many times anyone said it was safe. 

He had enjoyed swimming once-  back when his leg had been injured, and he had been alive enough to feel it. Now, the only body of water Call could ever think about was the frozen depths he had swam in back with Rahab in the castle. He didn’t think he would ever want to swim again. Even if Ecclesia was providing free swimming trunks and what not. 

“You seem perplexed by something,” Jasper observed unhelpfully, his hands moving down to undo his striped button-down. It looked like he had shown up to today’s class ready for the beach rather than an obstacle course. A pair of dark sunglasses rested on the bridge of his nose, and it took Call a fair amount of restraint to not smack them off his smug face. “Afraid of a little water, Call?”

“I’m not perplexed,” Call grumbled, tapping his foot and staring at the mouth of the river with disdain. He was still fully dressed, khaki pants and all. Even if he couldn’t feel his bad leg, it was still a memory of his past and horribly scarred to boot. There was no way he was going to put on trunks and show everyone how mutilated it was. He didn’t need a reason to make anyone look down on him again . “I’m just not going to swim. It's as simple as that.”

“Oh that's interesting,” Jasper nodded, glancing down at his nails briefly. Call turned a second too late to watch the other boy reach out and shove his shoulder hard, sending him crashing towards the glassy surface of the river. The first thing he felt was cold, the sensation of a thousand bubbles tickling his skin enlivening. When he tried to pull back up, he felt the water pull him downwards, the weight of his drenched clothes constricting; resurfacing took some effort. Dead bodies did not float as easily as live ones did. 

“Oh, Call already got in?” Aaron asked, stepping towards the bank and squatting down. He was wearing the dark trunks Ecclesia had provided, making his legs look athletic and tan in comparison. Call looked away, guilty of his own envious thoughts. “How’s the water, Call?”

Jasper grinned, looking ready to push Aaron in too. 

“It's cold ,” Call sputtered, swiping his soaked bangs out of his eyes. He did his best to look towards Jasper with as much hate as he could muster, but he was pretty sure he just looked like an angry, wet cat. If some of the other guys in their class hadn’t been standing around, he would have used his wings to soar above the river and drag Jasper down too. Aaron put a hesitant toe in before fully slipping into the river beside him and wading easily. “If you come near me again, I’m gonna drown you Jasper.”

“I was helping you get over your fear, you’re welcome.” Jasper said, waving. Aaron turned to look at Call with a slight furrow in his brow, like he was going to inquire but Call just wiped  some water off his chin vengefully before turning away from the dock.

“Let’s be done with this,” He said, diving back under and beginning to swim forward. 

The depths of the river were teeming with life, rays of bright sun cutting through the blue to illuminate the swaying green of the densely packed vegetation that grew on the riverbed. Every now and then, Call would catch the colourful gleam of some fish swimming past him, and nearly feel his heart come out of his throat. Aaron seemed much more relaxed than Call did, his usually green eyes nearly blue in the reflection of water. The blonde grinned at him when he caught Call staring and motioned upwards, his enthusiasm reassuring. 

When they returned to the surface of the river, Call realised they had made quite some distance from the bank where they had started- Jasper was nowhere in sight, he had been replaced by tall, unseeing trees. The reflection of the green wavered slightly on the rippling surface of water, looking like streaks of unblended paint on a canvas. Aaron took a few heaving breaths, his hand quickly moving to move his now soaked hair out of his face. It was slightly long now- not longer than Call’s- and curling at his neck. 

“I didn’t realise you were still wearing your uniform,” Aaron said, a slight question in his voice. Call ignored it and tried his best to not look down at what might be swimming underneath his feet. Whoever had designed an underwater obstacle course deserved a special dinner date with Rahab. “But, uh, the first course should only be a little further down the river. When we get there all we have to do is to get the completion medal. There should be three courses in the length of this river and then we’re done.”

“Three?” Call echoed, watching the waterweed sway along with the current. He remembered Master Rockmaple describing what they needed to do, he just hadn’t thought he’d actually be doing it. He ran a hand through his own dark hair, hoping the water would stop dripping and making nerve-wracking ripples all around him. “Whoever designed this is an ass.”

“He definitely didn’t swim it himself beforehand,” Aaron agreed, watching Call for a moment before nodding. “Ready to go back under?”

Call didn’t respond, instead choosing to dive under first. They swam for a bit longer before Aaron resurfaced for air again, and it was only then that Call caught sight of the obstacle course they needed to get through. There was a bit of distance leading into a darker, less lively part of the river, but there was undeniably a cave there. It was nearly submerged, and looked to be more like a fish-graveyard, but it definitely matched what Call vaguely remembered was their goal. He looked over at Aaron, his silver eyes narrowed in the bright sun. He hated being in the water. 

“That's got to be our first place.”

“It shouldn’t be too difficult to get,” Aaron said, nodding to himself. The blonde met Call’s eyes hesitantly, before looking away, a bashful sort of expression on his face. Call thought maybe he was feeling a little scared himself. “We’ll be in and out in no time.”

The distance to the cave felt like a short swim, but once they entered the bay, darkness fell over the waters, making things even less discernible. Call tried not to think too hard about it, but when a piece of seaweed just brushed his skin and he jerked roughly, Aaron pulled his arm upward. Now that they were in the cave, the surface of the river was gone, leaving only a few precious pockets of air for Aaron to breathe from should he need to resurface. That was terrifying too. 

When they managed to make it to an air pocket, the rocky ceiling of the cave pushed against their heads, the waves lapping at their chins. A few withering stalactites dipped into the water, their reflection nearly perfect. It was only when Call or Aaron waded too close and disturbed the water that a ripple would shatter the image. It reminded Call far too much of Rahab and the ice- of how he almost drowned. 

“The uh, the medal- it should be close. ” Aaron swallowed a mouthful of river water, his brows creasing before he took a shaky breath. His head was tilted upwards, giving Call an easy view of his slender neck. “Don’t freak out- underwater caves are delicate. Any sudden motions and it could crumble in on us. We’re the only ones in here anyway- it’ll be fine.”

Call wasn’t sure if it had been beckoned by Aaron’s words; he had stopped listening to the blonde minutes ago, but it had been following them awhile. Peering into the murky depths Call caught sight of movement again, something large and fast. Something like Rahab, maybe- or possibly something worse.

“Did you see that?” Call whispered, his eyes surely reflecting the water’s waves. He couldn’t tear his gaze away. They weren’t alone. They hadn’t been alone since they had entered the water- this monster had been following them since he had been shoved in by Jasper. Paranoia crept into his mind, darkening the edges of his vision and forcing him to strain his eyes- to make out where the monster was hidden. It was there, he knew that- he just had to pick it out from the darkness

“Call- Call, focus on my voice. It's going to be okay.” Aaron said, grabbing his face and forcing him to make eye contact. Call glanced at him with watery, wide eyes. Aaron was staring at him, his handsome face creased with worry, and his fingers wrinkled with water. For a second, Call really believed him. They had taken down Rahab with just the two of them and Havoc. Aaron’s thumb barely rubbed over his cheek. “Deep breaths, it’ll be alright.”

He was Dracula, he was with Aaron Belmont. What could possibly go wrong?

Then something massive and slimy pressed against Call’s leg. It happened so fast he didn’t even have time to consider what it was that had touched him. Call pulled Aaron’s arm hard and dived back under, his eyes wide. He had to protect both of them. His first thought was to swim forward and try to make distance from whatever creature had decided to rear its ugly face, but then Call caught sight of Aaron’s eyes. Initially the blonde had been facing him and when Call had pulled him under, he had maintained his position which meant he could clearly see whatever had been behind Call- he could see the monster. 

Call had been ready to ask until he registered the fact Aaron’s eyes were wide, his mouth opening briefly as bubbles spewed forth. Call didn’t know what was behind him, but simply moving away was out of the question- he was going to get them out of the cave. 

Without wasting another second, Call blinked about the watery darkness, his enhanced eyesight straining to pick out some exit, some source of light. Without clear direction he dived deeper, allowing the current to guide him; Aaron’s wrist still tight in his grasp. There was a narrow passage near the bottom of the cave, round and hollowed as if by some sort of smallish sea-creature. Call passed through it, forcing and pulling his way through even when his uniform caught on the jagged walls. It was practically only the fear that pushed him through.

When the tunnel opened up again, the current felt much stronger, practically forcing them forward. Call wasn’t sure if this was the intended path to find the medal, or what but the force of the rushing water was enough to send him into stalactites and bring them crashing down- at least he cleared the path for Aaron. It was only when the sound of rushing water filled his ear drums that he realised what sort of path he had put them on. They had to be heading toward a waterfall- there was no other way the current would be so strong. 

Call opened his mouth to warn the blonde, before Aaron came crashing into his arms, the current forcing them both down the fall without another thought to be spared. Call clutched onto Aaron’s back tightly, desperately hoping to absorb whatever damage might be waiting for them at the bottom of their fall- desperately hoping he could be the one to protect Aaron for once. The thunder of pouring, icy water felt almost louder than his thoughts, and then they were being submerged into even deeper water, the push of the waterfall keeping them immersed in the unforgiving depths. 

Call kicked his feet hard, still pulling Aaron with him until he was able to get away from the endless rush of water. Nearing what he assumed to be the surface, Call finally caught sight of a rocky outcropping, a warm sun coloured crag that was about to save their lives. He used the last of his strength to pull them both upwards and onto the dry surface, his mind barely comprehending the rush as he spit out a mouthful of water. He gently pulled Aaron further on too, careful not to scrape his bare back on the uneven surface. 

“There was something down there with us, Aaron- no idea what it was, but-” Call blinked over, realising the boy had yet to move. His toes were still dipping into the dark depths where the monster was sure to have followed them. His eyes were shut, his lips sealed. Call quickly moved to lean over him, his silver eyes wide. Had he hit his head somewhere because of the current? Or had he started to drown? “Aaron?” 

Magic was Call’s first thought, but after a hasty examination, he realised that Aaron was practically uninjured- it was probably his lungs that were filled with water. Unsure of himself, Call meekly pressed down on his chest a few times, waiting for the blonde to spit up water. When nothing happened, he felt himself panic a bit. 

“Aaron?” Call asked again, leaning over him and patting his cheek a little. He gave a few more chest compressions, and realised it wasn’t doing anything. He needed to deliver air. But he didn’t breathe air anymore, his own lungs were probably filled with water right about now. Did being a vampire make him incapable of giving CPR? He could still sigh if he wanted, which meant there had to be a little air. It would have to be enough. Call leaned over the blonde, his hands shaking as he slightly tilted his head. He didn’t know how to do CPR in the first place, but he had seen it done in movies enough times to make a wayward guess. He just had to get as much air as he could and give it to Aaron. It was simple.

Call took in a large breath, before swooping down and stopping just before Aaron’s lips. They were pink and slightly chapped. He had never seen Aaron’s lips this close, or any of his face for that matter. It didn’t matter- none of it mattered. Call closed the distance, his lips pressing against the blonde’s as he squeezed his eyes shut. He could do this. Call did his best to take in another breath, his lips clumsily slotting over Aaron’s again as he tried to breathe life into him. He did it one more time, before opening his own eyes and staring into a sea of green. Aaron’s eyes were open wide, his freckled cheeks nearly as red as Call’s should have been.

Call launched himself off of the other boy, nearly sending himself back into the surrounding monster infested water.

“I wasn’t trying- you just, you weren’t getting up and then I thought you had drowned so, like I-” Call swallowed, staring at his hands and then down at his feet. He hadn’t had any intention to take advantage of Aaron, he had just wanted to help. “I was trying to do CPR. Uh, that's why-.”

Call briefly glanced up at Aaron before coughing and turning in the opposite direction, pretending to be busy drying his soaked, chopped-up uniform. Or maybe just busy getting a hold of himself. He hadn’t thought Aaron would just wake up suddenly, he had at least expected a warning cough or something . Had he even passed out in the first place, or was it possible he had just been dizzy because of the waterfall?

“I’m- I’m good, Call. Thanks,” Aaron said, his voice sounding small against the fall of rushing water. Call hadn’t realised he had been shouting in defence of himself until Aaron had spoken- soft and quiet, barely audible. “Thanks for worrying about me.”

The blonde had moved silently to his side while saying that, almost causing Call to jump out of his skin when he noticed how close they were again, his green eyes shiny against the reflection of the waves. Unconsciously, Call’s eyes dipped to just glance at his lips again before flickering back upwards and meeting Aaron’s gaze. He hadn’t meant to do that. He also hadn’t meant for Aaron to see. 

Call whipped his head around after that, feeling nervous despite himself in his cold, dead body and pointed randomly across the water. He wasn’t going to so much as look at Aaron for the remainder of their- well, until he put a shirt on or something. 

“I- the uh, the medal is probably somewhere over there, in the water.” When Aaron didn’t immediately respond, Call bit his lip nervously, wanting desperately to glance over and read his expression. There was always the chance he had grossed his friend out, or worse yet, completely disgusted him down to his core. Call had known for a long time good intentions often bred bad results. This was particularly true whenever he was involved in anything. “If we, say, got into the water you know we might actually be able to see where it's at. Because Master Rockmaple did mention it was gonna be under the water. Under the waves.”

“Wait, Call,” Aaron began, and Call wasn’t sure what sort of face he was making since he refused to look. But the blonde placed a warm, tentative hand on his arm and Call was pretty sure he was going to be forced to break his vow to himself sooner rather than later. “Is it okay if we break here for a second? You look like you’ve gotten scraped up too.”

Call looked down at himself, unknowingly and then almost turned to Aaron before steeling himself and looking forward. Like a soldier in formation, he stonily kept his gaze ahead, unsure of his own strength. He heard Aaron move to sit behind him, but he persevered. 

“Yeah, okay, sure.” He was saying things in threes now, his nerves, which had no physical outlet, spilling out in his words. Call just hoped Aaron wasn’t catching on. The scenario had ended minutes ago afterall, he was totally over it. Totally . Call dropped down onto the rocks and pulled a sneaker off, dumping it over the water numbly. What he didn’t expect to find was a tiny little scaled body wriggle free and splash soundly back into the water. Call stared for a horrified second, before jumping back, ready to conjure hellish magic and defend himself and Aaron from whatever water monster had decided to sneak attack him from within his shoe. 

Instead of getting halfway through that thought, Aaron caught his shoulders looking around the side of his face to peer at him through dripping lashes. In one second, Call’s vow to himself was annihilated, and Aaron being none the wiser, tilted his head in a slightly confused manner, staring at Call like he was the only person in the world. They were so close, Call could feel the warmth of Aaron’s chest against his back, and could nearly feel the beating of his heart; they were too close, but Aaron had always had a damn problem understanding what personal space was.

“Call? You’ve seemed really jumpy since we got in the river-”

“Jumpy? Me?” Call scoffed before swallowing deeply. He would never swim with Aaron in a river. That was his new vow- one he was actually going to keep. He would have to swim this very river to get back though- he would have to swim it with Aaron. Call felt his mouth drop open before he closed it very slowly, his mind reeling. “A-as if.”

Chapter Text

“So you guys were gone for like, way over the time limit and you didn’t even get one medal?” Jasper asked, his eyebrows high on his forehead. He was standing on the bank of the river, his shirt unbuttoned tactfully, and a pale arm on his hip. He was probably trying to show off in front of Tamara, but Call knew she only had eyes for one person. “It was so easy, they were all just like one lap away from the docks.”

“We uh, just went the wrong way I guess.” Aaron said quickly, ruffling a towel through his golden hair- an obvious way to try and hide his expression. Too quickly. Call could practically see the gears turning in Tamara’s head. She was on to him. How was she already on to him?  “We probably swam too far out. Or something.” 

Suddenly just as nervous as before, Call thinned his lips and looked down towards his sneakers, completely at a loss on what to do.The problem wasn’t that he had tried to give Aaron CPR, the problem was that now, afterwards he couldn't get it out of his head. Aaron's lips had been soft, and warm and- and Call had never kissed someone before and that was part of the problem! Horrifyingly enough, now that he thought back to it, he had felt something. Call had felt something when their lips had touched. He had sworn to himself that his intentions hadn’t been wrong, but here was proving himself wrong! He was disgusting .

Call's silver eyes unconsciously flitted to Tamara and another surge of guilt consumed him. She obviously liked Aaron, and judging from how the blonde always indulged her, he probably liked her back. Not that Call liked Aaron in any which way, he definitely didn’t think of Aaron like that, or he hadn’t until- until-

“Why is Call being quiet? He’s never quiet.” Tamara asked, tilting her head to the side and making a loose strand of wavy hair curl around her face.  When all eyes turned to Call- even Aaron’s, screw him and his pretty green eyes- he struggled to come up with something, his head was so filled with nonsense he felt like he couldn’t think.

Jasper smirked, his arm wrapping around Call’s neck and forcing him to look up. 

“Oh, something did happen, huh?” 

“There was a monster- in the lake.” Call finally spit out, Jasper’s annoying nature grounding him in his usual nonchalant attitude. That was right. The sooner he forgot what happened, the sooner he could just ignore whatever the hell his feelings were, and get back to pretending like everything was normal. All he needed was seventy-two hours of uninterrupted isolation- that wasn’t so hard to get, right? 

“It… It was actually just a really big catfish,” Aaron murmured. 

Call felt one of his eyebrows twitch and he turned towards Aaron, feeling slightly irritated. It wasn’t fair. Aaron probably did have loads of people pining after him, not that Call would ever be a part of that crowd- he didn’t like blondes, or boys, or anybody for that matter. He was a lone wolf, that was something that comforted him. Or it had once. He didn’t even know who he was anymore. It was Dracula all over again, but it was worse because it included Aaron too.

“That thing was bigger than I was, there’s no way it was just a fish-”

“It was a catfish, Call.” The blonde reiterated, making Call feel even dumber. If he hadn’t freaked out, he wouldn’t have kissed Aaron, and if he hadn’t kissed him he wouldn’t be in half the dilemma he was now. The cherry on top was that Jasper and Tamara were witnessing this, stony and silent like the Ecclesia judges had been back at their hearing. With the way things were, Call was surprised more people hadn’t shown up just to give him a proper, full audience. Front row seats to see the dumbest Dracula alive. “I notice you get more jumpy when you’re in the water and I think that's why when you saw it you kind of… panicked?”

“I’m not…” Call swallowed, trying to recall the shape he had seen in the water. He couldn’t, everytime he tried to think back the only thing he could focus on was the feeling of Aaron’s lips. Call sighed, drawing his hands down his face as he tried to erase the memory. Why was he always so stupid? Part of him wanted to ask why Aaron hadn’t said anything earlier, but that would just be shifting the blame. It was his own idiocy that had brought him here. What he really needed was to find the nearest hole or coffin and bury himself alive in. “I’m just an idiot then, I guess.”

“Well said,”Jasper laughed, and if Call hadn’t been wallowing in a pit of self-hatred he might have laughed and shrugged it off, but not today. Today Jasper’s acknowledgement made him feel even more annoyed with himself- it made his metaphorical pit that much deeper.

“Hey, you’re not an idiot.” Aaron comforted, attempting to place a hand on his shoulder. Call didn’t dare let the blonde initiate contact. He sidestepped, and felt guilty about the fact he even let Aaron try and comfort him. He was already so dependent on the blonde, how much had he already taken advantage of his kindness? Now he was taking advantage of him when he was unconscious? “Next time, we just need to communicate better.”

“Right, that's always your solution. ‘Communicate better Call’. It's not like I’m not trying.” Call responded dully, faking a falsetto when he mimicked Aaron. He ran a hand through his wet hair and remembered he was still standing around in his dripping uniform and felt even more annoyed. “Next time I’m gonna piss myself I’ll make sure to keep you in the loop.”

Aaron blinked at that, his eyes fluttering and nose wrinkling like Call had just spewed a mouthful of spit and profanity at his face. When Call glanced at him again, he realised more than anything the blonde looked hurt.  

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Aaron asked, somewhat neutrally. 

Aaron was getting taller as he aged- he was getting stronger, smarter, and his capacity for anger was probably growing too. One of these days, Call was sure to wake up with a fist in his face for all the crap he gave him. And when that happened, he wouldn’t fight it, he’d accept it. Call long deserved a punch in the face, but until that fateful day he’d let his mouth run like a machine, with cynicism being its fuel. It was the only thing that brought any solace to his dead heart.

“Nothing.” Call murmured, glaring down at his feet while he felt all of his friends studied him. He hated being the centre of attention, he hated not understanding what he was feeling. He hated that Aaron was always so put together. He wanted him to fail for once. He wanted to know if he had thought about their kiss in the cave.

“Okay, well if you’re done being a jerk then we actually have stuff to talk about.” Tamara said, fully dressed in her usual uniform. The only way Call could tell she had just come from swimming in a literal river was that her braids looked slightly damp. He wanted her to slip up too, on that note. “The necromancy labs for instance?”

“Oh right, that was the info you got from the mission you guys all went on when I was attacked. I remember that.” Call responded, unable to keep the bitterness from his tone. “Good times.”

“What is up your ass today?” Jasper of all people asked, and Call actually forced out a sardonic laugh that didn’t at all reach his eyes. 

“Ten foot catfish apparently.” Call responded through gritted teeth as he shoved past Aaron to walk back towards the school. His response brought a pretty nasty mental image to the forefront of his mind, but he didn’t linger on it, instead focusing on putting one foot before the other. He really wanted to be back in his dorm. Alone. When Call got back to his dorm room, he stripped at record speed, climbed into bed, and just layed there, Havoc wrapped in his arms like a pillow. Part of him wanted to leave his dorm just so he wouldn’t have to run into Aaron again, but Havoc’s steady breaths and the warmth of the bed were enough of a tether. If he left, he probably didn’t really have that much of a place to go to, anyway.

Instead of getting the nap he had hoped for, Call’s thoughts kept him wide awake- spinning around in his mind and making him feel nearly dizzy. And they circled around one specific person: Aaron. He was positive that if his heart was still beating, his face might have reddened at how quickly the thought came to his mind, how quickly he remembered the sensation of their lips pressing together…  God, it wasn’t even something he should keep recalling, but he just couldn’t stop.

“Ugh, Havoc,” Call groaned, pulling his own hair in frustration. When the wolf climbed further towards his face, Call instead took the chance to bury his face in his fluff, sullenly. “I did a dumb thing for a dumb reason and now I’m probably doing another dumb thing to hide it.”

Havoc wagged his tail, completely unaffected by his owner’s inner turmoil. After a second of lamenting his own self-inflicted pain, Call sat up, horror clouding his mind. How would his dad react? How would he react to the fact that it was another guy ? Suddenly Call wished he could shut his own thoughts up.

It was right when Call had finally started to doze off himself, that he heard the door to his dorm open softly, Aaron’s familiar gait startling him to wakefulness. He hadn’t sulked for nearly long enough.

“Call? Are you awake?” Aaron murmured, nudging his shoulder gently. Call nearly froze up at his touch, obviously betraying the fact he was awake. He turned grouchily to tell Aaron to leave him alone, only to come scarily close to the blonde’s bright face. Aaron had squatted down so they were eye to eye, his blonde lashes fluttering happily. Call felt like if he didn’t suffocate now, he was just prolonging the inevitable. “Feel better after your nap?”

“Honestly?” Call let Aaron hang on the end of his question suspensefully for a second before crushing his hopes with a slightly self-satisfied smirk. Tamara was right, he was a jerk. “No.”

“Well, we’ve got to attend the- Ms. Tarquin’s party thing?” When Call managed to give him a somewhat confused look, the blonde shifted to sit on the edge of his bed, looking sheepish. “Like the celebration before the coliseum starts next week?”

Call gawked at that, sitting up completely. He hadn’t realised it was starting in just a week. They hadn’t even trained with- well, all the training had been monotonous, he supposed. Monotonous, boring training with only a few interesting things happening in between apparently was the formula for passing time. 

“I’m not going.” Call murmured, scooting away from Aaron and more toward the centre of his bed and Havoc.

“You have to go .” Aaron replied somewhat sternly, with a twinge of something else Call couldn’t identify at present. He could only see the blonde’s back from where he was discreetly peeking over his own shoulder, and that unfortunately didn’t leave him much to glean from. 

It didn’t sound like anger, but with Aaron it was pretty hard to tell.

“Nobody’ll miss me anyway. You’ll go, have your little dance with Tamara, get applauded, and- I don’t know, listen to a speech and be done.” Call recalled, his memory tainted by the bitterness of his reality. That was how the last few parties he attended with Aaron had gone. If Call were to go to the party for anyone, it would be Jasper. It sucked watching the person you liked be with someone else- not that Call liked Aaron.  He did know Jasper had liked Tamara and that made it all the worse for the Asian boy.

“Tamara asks me to dance, what am I supposed to say?” Aaron said oddly, fully turning to look down at Call, even as he tried to shift further under the covers. For a single, charged second, he thought Aaron might just drop the conversation and leave, but apparently the blonde was feeling confrontational today. “Are you upset because of what happened in the cave? If it's messing with you that bad, you can just forget it ever happened, Call. It- it didn’t mean anything anyway.”

Call froze, his thoughts finally addressed in the exact way he had expected: Meaningless. It was all meaningless. Part of him wanted to laugh at himself for getting so worked up over nothing, because it had been nothing. Aaron had verbally negated it to nothing. But the other part of Call ached. It ached for acknowledgement, and more than that it ached for reciprocation and acceptance. He had already won the lottery just making friends as Dracula, who was he kidding wishing for more? And from Aaron no less.

“I know that.” Call lied, feeling the fight just seep out of him, just as his life had all that time ago back on the castle floor. If he had felt bad before, now he really just wanted to be alone.

“Will you come to the party then?” Aaron asked, his voice edging on insistent. “I know ‘ nobody’ wants you there, but I want you there, Call. Can you go for me? Please?”

Call absolutely hated when Aaron asked for things nicely because when he did there was nobody with the strength to deny him. If he wasn’t as nice as he was, Call would have pegged him for a master manipulator years ago, but Aaron only used this ability when he was trying to get Call to accompany him to lunch, class, or an event like this. Friends went everywhere together, according to Aaron and Tamara. 

He hated that it was impossible to deny the blonde. Or maybe, he was just weak to him.

“I need to walk  Havoc.” Call murmured, turning his face to the wall. When he felt Aaron stare after him a little longer, he sighed, already regretting his answer. “I’ll catch up with you.”

The event was themed as a tea-party and located in Ecclesia’s gardens. Formally it was meant to be something of a sendoff for the junior students, a celebration right before the coliseum started, but Aaron knew better. This event was really just for all of the adults to fraternize and place their bets. While there were going to be different collegium scouts seeking out students, the main point of it wasn’t to test student’s skills, it was to determine who the church needed to have under their thumb… And Aaron knew all eyes were looking at him this year. With a worried glance at his white dress shoes, he stepped forward and felt a bubble of loneliness surround him, like a physical wall that warded everyone away; the wall didn’t ward away any stares though- he could feel eyes crawling down his back, some interested, others judgemental. 

No matter how people looked at him in Ecclesia, it was always better than how it used to be. 

Aaron made his way to a corner and positioned himself partially behind a large pot of hawthornes and hydrangeas, their blue and white petals nearly making him invisible. He bent down to smell them after a second, trying to distract himself from the adults and self-important people that bustled about as intimidating as they were foreign. 

A majority of the people here weren’t from the Magisterium, they must have been from the council or somewhere else. Aaron ran a finger between his collared white shirt and his neck, surprised to find sweat accumulated there. He was more nervous than he had realised, but it was always like this in big gatherings and large parties. Aaron liked to try and hide his nerves with a well-timed smile- especially when Call was around. He tried so hard to make sure he looked put-together and not even remotely like the nervous wreck he often felt like, but it never worked. Tamara still had to pull him away from everything and keep him focused on whichever dance routine so he could stop worrying about all the whispers he would pick up just standing around. 

Aaron had thought he had been discrete, but apparently Call had been holding his dances with Tamara against him. Why would he do that?

It wasn’t long after hiding that an older looking gentleman found Aaron’s hiding spot and began inquiring about his political views. He wore a suit darker than Call’s pitch black hair, its lapels embellished by small, golden buttons. The thought made him wish his friend was here beside him instead of sulking back at their dorm. Aaron had felt an explosion of feelings when their lips had touched earlier that day- really, for a second his mind had just short-circuited. After all, Call kissing him ? No one had ever wanted to kiss him, a foster kid , before. Because that's what Aaron was beneath all of Rufus’s love and Ecclesia’s stupid titles: he was just Aaron Stewart, resident nobody. 

“Ah, Mr. Belmont? Did you hear my question? Are you feeling ill, boy?” 

Aaron’s eyes flickered back towards the elderly gentlemen and he gave a sheepish smile his stomach twisting. He hadn’t meant to stop listening. It just happened when he thought about Call.

“Oh, uh-” Aaron didn’t get a chance to finish when Call of all people shoved his way to the older man, bumping into a few other guests and practically landing on the tips of his toes. Aaron almost reached out to catch him, but miraculously, Call managed to find his footing. There were blue and white flower petals in his hair, like he had bumped into one of the flower pots on his way over. Call’s face lit up when he caught sight of Aaron, his eyes creasing as a warm light flickered across the silver, and his lips pulling up into that same mischievous smile he hadn’t grown out of. 

Aaron loved his smile.

“Hey, you guys were done right?” Call asked, unafraid of any of the social pressures Aaron felt so burdened by.  “I’m gonna borrow him- his little brother’s performing in the orchestra. You know how it is.” 

The older man clearly had the mind to question that statement, but Call just laughed and pulled Aaron further into the swarms of people, evading the crowd as he maneuvered them to the notorious well. Today, even the well was done up with garlands, the same assortment of flowers hanging off its red shingled roof. And of course there was the bird house, but that had always been there. Aaron smiled as a little chirp sounded from within, sprightly and bright like they’d always been. At least someone was unbothered by the party.  

“And where’s my little brother exactly?” Aaron asked, turning his attention back to Call. Call ducked his head, rolling his eyes before pulling out two plates. He had apparently been here longer than Aaron had realised. He pushed one towards the blonde before propping himself up on the edge of the well, his legs swinging. He looked more carefree than Aaron could ever remember himself, but it didn’t make him jealous. It made him want to become confident to linger in that sort of emotion himself.

“I figured Jasper could double down and take the role.” Call said between a bite of a yeast  roll, some lemon pepper chicken, and mashed potatoes. It was a Call combination- that was what Alastair had called it during the summer they had spent together. It usually meant something that wouldn’t taste bad together, but no one else would ever do. The memory made Aaron smile. “I mean, it's only if anyone asks.”

“I want to ask about your outfit .” Tamara replied, using the segue smoothly. Jasper appeared behind her and looked Call up and down unabashedly, before shaking his head and sighing. Jasper put a lot of effort into how he dressed- that was one of the first things Aaron had learned about him.

Call blinked for a second before sharing a glance with the blonde, the edge of his lip quirking up. He finished the last bite of his sandwich, licked his finger and then jumped off the edge of the well, landing with a thump. Aaron looked nervously down at his shoes once again, but this time for a completely different reason.

“I think he could lose the jacket, but he looks fine in blue, Tamara. Sheesh, you’re like a nagging mom.” 

“You know I was talking about you, Call.” She sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. She was wearing a short dress covered almost entirely in beadwork except for the thin layers of gossamer that shimmered in the sunset. Like always, she looked put together enough to make Aaron feel nervous about the threads poking out of his own suit. “It's not even that you look bad, you just look so.. .”

She was right. Call didn’t look bad at all. Despite wearing a wrinkled, white button down and a ripped pair of sand coloured jeans, that looked like they were barely staying on his hips, he still had managed to look good. Aaron even thought he had tried to do something with his dark hair, but after running it seemed to stick up in its usual messy spikes. 

“He looks like a punk.” Jasper finished for her, shutting his eyes like he had been through this conversation at least one hundred times. “Back when he was at my place, he would literally wear my clothes and still manage to look like that.”

Aaron coughed, finally having regained his composure. Both Jasper and Tamara were looking at him expectantly, like he needed to add on to their critique. Aaron let his gaze sweep down Call’s form, and swallowed thickly letting his eyes flit away quickly after his initial once-over. 

“I think maybe a belt would help…?”

It was the only thing he could think of. 

“A belt?” Call asked, looking down at his pants ludicrously. Jasper actually barked out a laugh at that, a hand on Tamara’s shoulder as he tried to balance himself. “The only person who needs a belt is-”

Before Call could finish his comment,- whoever he was going to mention was fortunately spared- a loud ringing echoed throughout the courtyard. The people that had originally been collected in their own separate groups, all merged together toward the sound. It was obvious a speech was about to happen. Aaron wanted to turn around and walk the opposite direction, or maybe take a tumble down the well, but he steeled himself and followed the sound.

Anastasia Tarquin stood atop a cedar-wood stage that hadn’t been there prior to the event, dressed in a silver white dress that reflected the blue of the surrounding hydrangea assortments.  Her eyes were narrowed and sharp, her lips similarly thinned and bright against her pale skin. Despite standing amidst the crowd, Aaron felt like her gaze was trained on him, staring through his skin and directly into his soul.

He only blinked away when Call’s fingers brushed his, cool and rough much like the boy himself. Aaron felt the edge of his lips quirk upwards before turning his attention back to Anastasia. 

“I would like to thank everyone for being here to attend our annual banquet commemorating this year’s junior-year students.” She began, raising her gloved hands to join the applause that sounded. Despite holding a glass of champagne and a microphone, she made the action seem effortless.  "Unlike previous years however,  the future hope of Ecclesia will be participating in this year’s Coliseum event. Everyone please give a round of applause to Aaron Belmont.”

A louder round of applause sounded then, and Aaron received a few claps to his shoulders, their voices distant in his ears. If he closed his eyes and just listened, it was like he was listening to shouting- like fear was the only thing waiting behind his eyelids. Aaron didn’t realise he had frozen up until Call leaned forward to wave a hand in his face, a question reflecting in his silver eyes. Aaron gave him his most reassuring smile, looking towards his feet.

He felt sick to his stomach.

“As everyone knows, the last time a Belmont participated in Ecclesia’s coliseum event was over fifty years ago: Soleil Belmont, who died at the age of 17… A terrifying, yet inspiring tale of his perseverance and the fragility of life- but any life given with a purpose is a life well-spent.” Anastasia lowered her eyes emphatically, sweeping the crowd with her cold gaze but she once again landed on Aaron. He felt like her eyes stabbed into him. “Now, we are fortunate enough to be blessed with another Belmont, another guardian to stand the test of ..”

Aaron didn’t hear any more of her speech. His mind was whirling. He had known for forever that the previous Belmont before him had died at a young age. Young and purposeless, according to Master Rufus, but Aaron had heard the story enough times to realise no one really knew the truth. To him, Soleil had just been another victim, another innocent sent to his death for no reason. To Aaron, Soleil just sounded like another Drew… And that was probably what waited for him too. The cost of living a good life was steep Aaron had learned. 

“Hey,” Call whispered, his hand locking around Aaron’s wrist. The blonde shuddered out of his thoughts, the cold of Call’s thin fingers drawing him back to reality. They were no were near as cold as he felt though. “Are you…Do you wanna go?”

Aaron stared at his face, feeling trapped like a wounded animal stared at its captor- but that wasn’t right. Ecclesia had given Aaron a life better than his best dreams. He owed them his life even if it was only going to last a measly seventeen years. That thought burned going down, like swallowing acid. 

After a second of persistent silence, Call whispered something to Jasper and pulled Aaron through the crowd for a second time that evening, his steps light. This time, they didn’t stop at the well. Call pulled him into the hedge-maze, his fingers suddenly tight on his wrist. From what Aaron could see, the zig-zagged rows of untrimmed hedges spanned across the expansive green lawn, untamed and wild like many parts of Ecclesia. The sun set the entire thing ablaze with orange light, like a steady flame burning away kindling. It was just like how Aaron felt- like a small twig of kindling burning far faster than he could stop. 

They ran for a while longer, taking whatever turn Call chose until Aaron couldn’t run anymore and was overcome by large, panting breaths. He actually did take Call’s previous advice then, stripping out of his light blue jacket, and folding his white sleeves up to his elbows. Even with night falling around them, the heat clung to his skin- the cold he felt from before a mere memory. Call glanced back at him before averting his eyes just as quickly, his butt finding the grass as soon as Aaron risked a look back at the dark haired boy. 

“Sorry,” Call murmured, falling onto his back as he glared meanly at the sky. His eyes reflected the lavender-kissed heavens, and although the edges of his lips formed a scowl, his bangs curled softly around his face making him appear more sullen than angry. Aaron would have done anything to run his fingers through his hair at that second, to feel something other than the constant dichotomy of saviour and foster child that plagued his mind. Instead, he sat down beside Call, his knees to chin. “You just looked a little.. I don’t know- maybe I just didn’t want to listen to her anymore.”

It was Call’s way of looking out for him. Aaron wanted to smile, but for some reason the well-trained action didn’t reach his lips. All he could do was stare at the sky, feeling bone-weary despite his physical prowess. It should be impossible, but this exhaustion wasn’t the physical sort- it was the crippling sort of thought that weighed on his eyelids right before bedtime. The memory he couldn’t erase; the fate he wanted to avoid… It always was something.

“Have you ever wondered if Constantine wasn’t a bad person?” Aaron looked down at himself self-consciously, his fingers twisting around each other as he tried to imagine a future that wasn’t tainted by death and darkness. “Like what if nobody needed to die? What if…”

“I’ve thought about it before.” Call said, without missing a beat. He seemed to have all the confidence Aaron lost, his voice unwavering despite the heresy that had been uttered between them. “I get his memories sometimes… And, a lot of the time he doesn’t seem any different than us… And then there are other times when- when I couldn’t mistake him for anything but a monster.”

Call had turned to face Aaron then, his silver eyes wide and intense, like he was trying to convey all the world’s truths to him in a single phrase. Aaron would listen even if it happened to be the most biased retelling of history ever uttered.

“I guess, what I’m really trying to get at is,” Call paused, gnawing on his lip before returning his eyes to the stars. “I think he might have been normal once. But then after his brother died, he changed. When people die, the people that get left behind have to change. I mean, look at my dad.”

Aaron blinked, thinking of Alastair, but his thoughts didn’t remain there too long. Instead, he found himself focusing on the fallacy of Call’s statement. He accredited Constantine’s change to his brother’s death, but that wasn’t exactly true, was it?

“It was Ecclesia that did that to him.” Aaron corrected, his words hanging in the air. Call suddenly turned towards him quickly, his shock clear in the way his dark eyebrows rose nearly to his forehead. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m even on the right side. Like I know I owe everything to them-”

Aaron covered his face with his hands, suddenly desperate to hide the screaming, whiny boy he hated so much away from Call’s pure, silver eyes. He didn’t want anyone to have to see that side of himself- the side that complained.

“You don’t owe anybody anything Aaron. Master Rufus didn’t adopt you so you could pay your life to the church in blood.” Call’s eyes narrowed just as fast as they had widened, his emotions clear and bright in the starlight. He put a cold hand on Aaron’s shoulder, forcing the blonde to look into his eyes. “If you wanna leave, you should. I’ll go with you.”

“I don't want to leave though, Call. Constantine is alive now, because of us. I- I can’t just run , even if I want to.”  Aaron sighed, falling backwards into the grass to avoid the intense gaze he had been faced with. In shame, he felt his fingers crawling back towards his face, hiding the emotion present there. “I really just...don’t want to die.”

Before Aaron could think about what was occurring, Call had leaned over him, his pale fingers clawing at Aaron’s hands to expose his face. After a second of struggling, the blonde relented, allowing his shame to be seen by the stars, the moon, and unfortunately, Call.

“I’m here, remember? Immortal, creature that presides over Death?” He smirked then, his dark eyelashes casting a shadow on his pallid cheeks. “Whoever goes after you has to go through me first, right? They’ll be ground meat by then.”

It was comforting to a degree to know the Lord of Death was on his side. It was hard for Aaron to really consider that thought when that meant Call would be the one protecting him. For one thing, that didn’t sound safe, and for another-

“Stop overthinking things,” Call laughed, flicking his head lightly. Aaron flinched, unsure of when they had gotten so close again. Call’s chapped lips were just a breath away, his silvery eyes creasing in a way that made them almost look like they were fluttering. Aaron suddenly wondered if Call could hear his heart hammering away in his chest, like a sinner shouting his confessions to the street. He really hoped not. 

Before the moment could linger, Call jerked away from him, his starry eyes pointed in some other direction. Aaron almost had the heart to feel disappointed, but his memory of Call’s earlier discomfort killed any lingering feelings. The last thing he wanted to do was make him uncomfortable, even if his own heart was crying.

“Did you see that?!” Call asked suddenly, moving to stand.

“Did I see what?” Aaron asked, feeling as if his disappointment was clearly heard in his tone of voice. He swallowed, attempting to keep his feelings hidden.

“That lizard.” Call explained, pointing.

“What? What does a random lizard matter?”

Call’s next statement had Aaron grabbing at his hip, looking for the security his whip often offered him.

“It wasn’t-that thing wasn’t alive.”

Chapter Text

After dashing through what felt like half the hedge-maze, Call dug his heels into the soft grass and stopped, glaring at the orange lizard that had clearly taunted him seconds before. A familiar, because that's what it had to be, was a non-living creature, usually summoned to fulfill the purpose of its master. Call had read about them before in the Dracula 101 guide he had borrowed. Apparently, he should also have his own swarm of familiars, but he still hadn’t figured out how exactly to summon creatures from hell.

“Who summoned you?” Call barked out, crossing his arms and taking a threatening step forward. The lizard dashed back a few steps before blinking up at him from the edge of the massive fountain. Two massive angels stood atop the highest tier, their arms interlocked and wings splayed while water squirted from their lips in a graceful arc. If Call had learned anything from his previous adventures, he had learned that deceptively graceful statues were probably hiding a secret of some kind. Before he could examine it further, an unfamiliar voice sounded.

“ Gloria cruore pollicita.” 

It was a deep voice- almost like the earth had been torn asunder and was groaning in pain. For a moment it reverberated in Call’s chest again and again, almost rattling. When his eyes focused again, there was blood pouring out of the angel’s lips instead of water. That sight made ravenous hunger crawl at his throat, sharp and almost consuming. He needed blood. The last time he had drank was over a year ago, how was he even surviving? 

For a second it felt as if his throat was closing up as the rich, coppery scent intoxicated his mind, his fingers twitching as he kept his feet planted where they were. Then Aaron grabbed his shoulder and he was forced to swallow roughly, praying his human instincts would return. 

“Wh-where’d it go, Call?” Aaron asked, looking at the boy with a crease in his brow. When Call blinked back towards the fountain, any trace of blood was gone. It appeared to be completely normal. 

“The blood?”

“The lizard?” Aaron corrected, looking at him a little oddly. Call just looked down at his sneakers, slightly ashamed he couldn’t erase the panging hunger from his mind. Instead he followed Aaron to the edge of the fountain, glancing around mindlessly for the creature that had led them here. “What blood? Did you see something else?”

Call paused for a moment, staring hard at the crystalline water that pooled into the fountain. Was  it possible he had been hungry enough to imagine the fountain filling with blood? If that was the case, there was no way he was going to admit that to Aaron. The blonde probably already found him freaky enough. On the other hand, if the lizard had actually chanted something and caused some sort of magical reaction to occur-

Before Call could deliberate any further, an ice cold hand burst from the fountain and latched around his neck like a shackle. He didn’t even have the chance to glance over at Aaron and assess his situation, suddenly the grip on his neck was pulling him directly into the fountain with a dreadfully cold splash. Most fountains were shallow- two to three feet  at most, but Call felt like he had been pulled into a pit full of sinking sand. The water was icy and dark and impossible to breathe in despite his numerous abilities; bubbles swarmed him as he struggled against the pull, but he couldn’t find any reprieve. For a moment it was like the inky darkness was pouring into his throat and mouth, like his lungs were filled with tar. And then he plunged through the surface, more disoriented than he wanted to admit. 

Call pulled himself over the edge of the fountain and landed with a smack onto the dirt covered path. He was drenched in blood- the same blood he had seen moments before. Call whipped around and gaped at the fountain he had just pulled himself from, shocked to see two massive gargoyles standing in place of the angels, a stream of blood shooting from where the creature’s hands were clenched.

Finally taking the chance to look down at himself, Call shuddered as he saw the stain of gore on his white shirt, on his pants, on his hands . He licked his lips unconsciously and shivered as the metallic tang of blood sent a jolt of life into him. Suddenly maddened by his deprivation, Call launched himself off of his feet and practically dunked his head into the fountain, gulping the blood down. He didn’t care that his bangs dipped into the liquid, nor that it further stained his white sleeves. The only thing on his mind was consumption and power . 

Then he remembered he wasn’t here for a free for all dining feast- he had been taken here by force. When Call looked up, he found his eyes locking with Aaron’s, the green brighter than he’d ever seen.

Aaron was kneeling beside the fountain ledge himself, droplets of blood dripping off his chin and into his golden hair, matting it. For once in his short undead life, Call felt shame. Shame that he was controlled more by his instincts than by any lingering human sentiment or thought. Shame that Aaron had seen it on a grotesque display.

“Now I feel thirsty,” Aaron said without hesitation, his hand wiping at his neck and cheeks looking particularly red. Call chalked it up to the blood, but it was hard to tell what exactly the boy meant by that statement. He stared at Aaron wordlessly, ready to ask, but the thought didn’t get far. Someone was approaching them.

“Who’s there?” Call shouted confidently into the darkness ahead of him. He swaggered forward drunkenly, the feeling of blood sloshing around in his stomach as invigorating as it was thrilling. It wasn’t the blood he liked; there was something addictive about feeling powerful.  

“My lord,” The same voice from before crackled, as cold and deep as the unforgiving winter. This time when Call heard it he didn’t falter, he took a step forward, heated magic crawling up his clawed fingers. “My lord, I apologize for tearing you from your duties, however we’ve been lying dormant awaiting your return…Awaiting the fulfillment of your promise.”

It only took a second longer for the creature to emerge from the shadows it had sheltered in, the chill of ice following the shade’s path. It looked vaguely like an older man, his face made of shifting pieces of jagged ice and gait as slow and destructive as frost’s decay. If Call had been human, he was positive his lips would have already been blue with just their proximity. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Aaron shiver, his hands reaching to rub his arms.

His jacket had been left behind in the hedge maze somewhere.

“What promise? And where are we?” Call paused, walking past him without the slightest hesitation. Considering the creature’s somewhat civil nature, it was fair to assume he had once been a part of the previous Dracula’s hordes. That meant it owed him fealty. Even on the off chance the shade did try to attack him, he could always just destroy him with a wave of his fingers. “Do you usually pull people down here?”

Having been bombarded with questions, the shade did little but follow Call for a moment, its sigh sending an intricate crystal lattice across the walls and floor. Call wouldn’t have cared enough to notice if his settings hadn’t been quickly changing around him. The dirt path he had trudged ahead on had slowly given way to rigid metal, the faintest hum of technology audible far ahead. 

Tiny, red veins shot through the silver walls, stark against the metallic sheen. They resembled pipes of some kind, but Call couldn’t tell what was being carried nor why. The pipes were the least of odd things he quickly realised. The further they walked the more foreign everything seemed to become. 

“We are standing amidst the church’s gift to the highest king; its perversion of the lord’s greatest craft.” The shade shuddered for a moment, like re-entering the metal facility brought it great pain and then pressed on after him. “We stand in the Necromancy Laboratory, a prison now liberated.”

Call paused for a moment, the words ringing in his ears as he glanced about. They had been searching for the Necromancy Laboratory, but it wasn’t anything like he had expected. The place looked like it had been demolished, whether it had been by creatures or the church itself was impossible to say. Sparking, wayward wires spilled from the walls in clusters, gashes peeling the metal of the walls back like it was nothing more than soft, pliable flesh. 

Electricity was a tangible thing here beneath the earth’s surface, present and dangerous almost wherever they stepped. Call pulled Aaron towards him when the blonde almost stepped into a puddle of sparking water, making wide eyes at the boy. 

This was the last place they should stumble around in. 

“What- what happened here?” Aaron asked, his voice small against the hum of destruction that vibrated against their skin. He was shaking, Call noticed after a second of staring at the blonde. His cheeks and fingers a fierce red from the shade’s cold. “Why’re we following this… thing in here?”

The shade exhaled, but made no motion he had heard or even acknowledged the blonde. After a second, Call reiterated the question.

“We were liberated, young Lord. Our tainted womb now cut open, we are reborn, free to seek you evermore…” The shade paused, lingering before a row of metal laboratory beds, broken shackles on each. Splatters of red and black blood were dripping off of nearly every surface, the lights flickering in tandem with the flashing screens of destroyed equipment.  Whatever ‘liberation’ he was talking about, had clearly happened very recently. 

Call looked back towards Aaron and shrugged hopelessly.

“Whatever that means, I guess?”

“Whatever what means?” Aaron asked, crossing his arms warily. After drinking the blood, Call had felt like he was on fire. In the presence of this shade, it seemed like Aaron was feeling the exact opposite. “We’ve been walking in silence aside from your occasional questions.”

“We’re in the Necromancy Lab. You didn’t hear him say that?” Call asked, falling back a step to walk beside the blonde. When Aaron shook his head with furrowed brows, Call finally realised the issue. He was Dracula, of course he could hear and communicate with monsters. No matter how special being a Belmont was, talking to monsters definitely wasn’t in that job description. “He uh, he said we we’re in the Necromancy laboratory and that they were liberated . Like, recently I guess?”

“Is that why this place is destroyed?” Aaron asked, looking more than a little uncomfortable with Call’s newfound ability. “Was the church the one who did this? Or was it someone else?”

Call looked towards the shade and swallowed, suddenly embarrassed of himself. As nice as feeling powerful was, any emphasis on his lost humanity always managed to make him feel… off . He had been labelled ‘different’ for his entire life as a human.  It was only now as a vampire that he had even begun to feel like he could fit in somewhere. 

“Who liberated you?” Call asked, as the shade drifted through a half-destroyed door. It looked like it had been previously secured with a key-slider, but whoever had gone through had used brute force instead. The top half had been cut through cleanly, pieces of it littered around like nothing more than discarded trash. With a solid thunk, Call sent the lower half to the ground too, eyeing it as it crackled sadly. 

“It was he…” The shade whispered, fading into the brightness of the following room. As soon as Call set foot into the room, a shock of electricity crackled above, and then they were consumed by darkness, the shade’s words the only thing remaining. “The one forsaken by the fates.”

“Call, there's something-” Aaron barely got a word in, when another voice sounded in the darkness. 

“Help… Please help me…” It was a thin voice, a feeble sort of sound like its speaker was gasping for breath. Call saw him before any vocal recognition triggered in his mind. Long dark hair, nearly smiling eyes- he was looking at Master Tanaka, or at least what was left of him. 

His skin was the same sickly white as Call’s own, only it was littered by tiny pin pricks. Purple and brown scars crawled across his skin, clear evidence of some sort of twisted, sick experimentation. A particularly large welt was visible on his hand, a partially embedded stone peeking through his half grown skin. For half a second, Call didn’t even know what to do except stare as the reasoning of this laboratory slowly clicked into place. 

Aaron rushed past him then, kneeling before their old instructor with worry clear in his eyes. Call didn’t need to tell him that Master Tanaka was already too far gone; Aaron had previously told him he could sense the undead… That meant he already knew. 

“Master Tanaka?” Aaron cried, grabbing at the man’s shackled wrists. The chains that had bound him were clearly broken, but he hadn’t moved away from his prison. The shackles that bound his mind were probably nowhere near as easy to break free from. “What- what happened to you?” 

Master Tanaka looked up towards Aaron, his dark eyes unseeing despite the fact Call knew he could see through the darkness easily. All vampires had night vision. 

“Kill me, please- I beg you-” His words came out like a whine, his fangs just visible as a sob cut through his words. He didn’t seem to recognize Aaron at all. The blonde took a frightened step away, only for the instructor to grab at his legs, his actions desperate. “Y- you can’t just leave me here-”

“Who did this to you?” Call repeated, pulling his arms away as Aaron staggered backwards. He stood between them then, pretending to be strong where he saw the blonde wasn’t. Master Tanaka turned his blank gaze on Call, his soulless eyes more alarming than his own malevolent red. They were both vampires, true, but Tanaka couldn’t have been more different. He hadn’t been turned naturally , that much Call could tell. 

“Once you know about- about them, you can’t just leave,” Tanaka blinked, really looking at Call’s face for just a moment before glancing down again, just as lost as he had been previously. “I should never have spoken about him, not again. ”

Tanaka grabbed at Call then, his bony fingers nearly skeletal and so deathly tight around his wrists. 

“I went to school with Constantine Madden, did you know that? He was two years older than me, and back then, he was a complete sensation. He even saved me once- he used dark magic and I knew then, that he was a vampire. I knew before the church, before anyone.” Call stared at him, his throat suddenly so tight, he couldn’t force a single word out. He could just stare forward, horrified at where this dead man’s tale would take him. “The truth was, he never murdered anybody. The lives the church pinned on him are all deaths they caused themselves. He was a good man, a hero they’ve painted as a villain. That's why they won’t let anyone talk about him. They won’t let their own crimes come to light.”

Every fiber of Call’s body wanted to turn and look at Aaron, to see what the blonde was thinking, feeling. Instead his mouth moved of its own accord, his tongue like a brick in his mouth.

“So Ecclesia… turned you? Why-”

“They’re trying to make their own bloodstone. They want their own Dracula.” Tanaka’s eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets as his words stumbled out of his mouth, each more shocking than the last. He lifted one of his hands, displaying the injury Call had noticed earlier: the stone partially submerged into his flesh. “Belmonts die too fast. That's part of the reason they're after the bloodstone. Once they get a hold of it, they’ll have the key to immortality itself.”

He released Call then, his hand going to claw at the artificial bloodstone he had been implanted with. He peeled at the skin like a rabid animal, like he couldn’t at all feel the pain.

“How many?” Aaron suddenly asked from behind him. His voice sounded so small in the midst of Tanaka’s previous words, Call almost hadn’t heard him. “How many others were taken here?”

“Hundreds before me, I’m sure. Hundreds of lives paved for the path of immortality.” Tanaka’s scratching increased then, his nails clinking against the material of the stone, even as black blood began to collect underneath his fingers. As he increasingly grew more agitated, his dark eyes flitted between Call and Aaron, his coherency clearly fleeting. “You- you were a great student, Aaron. If you hadn’t been born to die, I’m sure you’d amount to great things. Great things, I’m sure of it. Great things…”

Tanaka repeated himself a few more times before Call cut him off, his eyes narrowed.

“Aaron isn’t gonna die.”

The vampire laughed- a chortling sort of sound, nothing like his laughter had been when he was living. Call hadn’t known Master Tanaka extensively before, but he had heard him laugh and seen his smile. 

Was this what Alastair saw when he looked at Call now?

“No one can escape the church.”

Magnus stepped around a fallen corpse, his rapier dripping with blackened blood. It splattered across the metal floor, sizzling as it made contact with a few live wires, the scent reminiscent of cooking flesh.

“Marcus?” He called, patting the wrinkles from his white robes. When lines of interlacing frost crawled up the edges of his mantle, he knew immediately the frozen shade had arrived. “Have you completed what I’ve asked of you?”

“Everything is as you intended, Great Liberator.” The shade released a sigh, frost clouding above the corpses they spoke over. “Do I dare to ask for my reward?”

With practised ease, Magnus gripped his sword and sliced through the shade’s neck. A gust of icy cold wind burst forth from the spirit, the northwind whipping his dark hair into a frosted, wild mess. The intensity lasted only for a brief second, and then as his life faded so too did the cold. The wind died down to nothing more than a breath, the frost that had collected melting away to nothing more than a few droplets of water. 

“Goodbye, old friend.”

Magnus flicked his sword once again, cleaning it of the water that had collected there and moved forward purposefully. 

It wasn’t difficult to find Callum, not after Marcus’s efforts at least. It seemed Haru had done well in keeping them despite the fact he hadn’t been a part of the plan. Magnus almost smiled, the taste of nostalgia almost sweet, even amidst the carnage he had caused. 

“I’m sure you’d amount to great things. Great things, I’m sure of it. Great things…”

A moment of silence passed before Alastair’s boy spoke up, offence clear in his voice. Had he not been feigning solemnity, he might have laughed.

“Aaron isn’t gonna die.”

Magnus lingered by the doorway then, hidden in the cover of darkness that had fallen over the entire facility. Cutting through the wires had been a mildly dangerous feat, especially when he could have just destroyed the single generator powering the entire thing instead. What could he say? Cutting the wires had given the entire laboratory a sort of electric pop - it had been a well made stylistic choice. 

Haru was kneeling next to his bed when he peered into the room. He had been there since Magnus had cut him free, unmoving like he was still bound there, against his will. Magnus couldn’t imagine the teacher would ever live past the betrayal he was currently living through.  

“No one can escape the church.” Haru said, his voice echoing in the suddenly silent facility. 

Truer words had never been spoken. 

“Callum?” Magnus asked, finally taking the chance to step forward. Both boys whipped around, their eyes wide as if his entrance had been completely unexpected. Good. That was how it had been intended. “Be careful, the person that's sitting in front of you is no man.”

“Are you the ‘liberator’?” The Belmont asked, finding his voice before Callum. Magnus turned his sympathetic gaze toward the boy, in no way hiding the way he held his rapier. With the blade pointed forward, there could be no mistake. He was moving forward with the intent to kill. 

“ Magnus ?” Call repeated, his words laced with incredulity. Magnus had half the mind to smirk at him, but instead chose to step around the boy to lift Haru’s chin with the edge of his blade. “Aren’t you supposed to be following my dad?”

“We’ll speak once I’ve finished what I’ve come to do here.” He said, his voice echoing with authority. 

“What’re you planning to do?” The Belmont asked, taking a step toward them, like he would try to stop him should he try anything unsavoury. “You can’t just-”

“Something you’ll learn, boys, is that death is often the greatest mercy one can be afforded.” With a sweep of his blade, he sliced Haru’s throat, uncaring of the black blood that splattered across his pristine, white robes. For the final time that evening, Magnus flicked his rapier, intently watching the dread that consumed the Belmont’s face. “Come, both of you. This is no place for a proper conversation.”

Chapter Text

“The council isn’t happy, Alastair- what can I say? They’ve made an entire narrative regarding Dracula and his brother.” Oliver said, a decisive hand on the newspaper, as if he was declaring war with it alone. He was a bright eyed man with dark wavy hair and strong features. After Jericho's passing, he had been the one to approach Alastair and offer help to Constantine. While his offer was appreciated initially, it became apparent his ‘help’ was only available so long as it didn’t affect his position in the council. That really ended up leaving more work for Alastair, but he wasn’t sure he could hold it against him. Oliver’s wife was still in the collegium after all, anything he did would directly affect her. “They’re setting the church up against him. You, or the cult have to do something.”

Alastair took in a large breath of air, his eyes on the different news articles about Jericho’s death and Constantine. The Maddens had been praised for so long during their time at Ecclesia, yet it had only taken a day for the church to change their tune. What could be done? Such was the way of humans. 

Alastair had been discussing this topic for weeks, discussing what exactly to do next, how to ensure Constantine survived now that his brother was gone. Oliver Dewinter was a man created by words, not action- and while he often tried to push Alastair to act, the course he promoted was often for his own benefit rather than the benefit of others. Oliver had never once defended Constantine to the Council of Ecclesia, and he never would- even when it was the truth, but that only made sense. 

Oliver had no obligations towards the truth, he only had obligations to himself. 

“Constantine doesn’t want to attack the church, Oliver. Not socially, and definitely not physically. If they’re trying to provoke us, they’re going to be sorely disappointed.” Alastair cracked open a water bottle and poured it into his mouth, his fingers clenching around the edge of Sarah’s table. They were living in a small, old townhouse Alastair had bought initially for the two of them. It had two stories and was littered with random pieces of old furniture Sarah had bought and collected from her parent’s home. Constantine was living with them now too, though it was hard to tell whether the man was really living at all. 

“When they go hunting for him, or worse yet, send you to hunt him down, what will you do? A large display of power will stop them, even if only temporarily. It’ll give Lord Dracula-

“Constantine. His name is Constantine.” Alastair corrected, his eyes narrowed.

“-It will give Constantine the time he needs to recover.” Oliver lifted a persistent eyebrow, his smile as truthful as his promises. It was a politician’s smile, fit to soothe people’s hearts, and destroy their lives. “Could I talk to him? I understand you're in charge of his affairs currently, but I really feel like if I could just talk to him-”

“No, he’s- he doesn’t need this right now.” Alastair stood up then, nearing the entry door. He had entertained this nonsense for long enough. “And I honestly don’t think we have much more to discuss. We’ll see each other soon I’m sure.”

“Oh you’ve got to at least let me-” Alastair put his hand on the other man’s shoulder and tried to steer him towards the door before Oliver froze and turned his head upwards towards the stairs. “My lord, the church-!”

“Leave.” Alastair ordered, shoving him outside roughly. Oliver actually glared at him over his shoulder, the expression uncharacteristic and dangerous. It was the face of a man who was rarely denied. It didn't phase Alastair.

“We’re both double agents, Alastair. I’m not sure where your loyalties lie, but one side is going to suffer and it doesn’t have to be yours-”

Instead of doing something he might regret, Alastiar proceeded to slam the door shut and sink to the floor, his head clasped in his hands. He had no idea what to do about the church. He didn’t know what to do about Constantine, much less his own allegiances. He had grown up knowing that death was an inevitable thing, something inescapable and present for all. Seeing the church  burn Jericho alive had completely changed that; innocent, sweet Jericho burned for what, an outdated idea of good and evil? 

There had been no reason for him to die.

Alastair forced himself to his feet and trudged up the flight of narrow stairs, his exhaustion weighing his steps down like fetters on the imprisoned. It was like second nature to him now, the constant ache behind his eyes, in his stomach, in his mind. He had taken on a second job to pay for the house and their upcoming wedding… His wedding with Sarah. 

Alastair had asked for Jericho to be one of the groomsmen. 

An ugly surge of pain coursed through his chest then, his lips flicking downwards as he recalled it all: the death, the future that could have been, the future that had been burned into flaming ashes. Alastair let out a slow shivering breath, holding himself against the rail of the stairs before pushing upwards. He had to be strong for Sarah and Constantine. They needed him to be.

There was only an hour before he had to go back to Ecclesia for his first job. Monster hunting wasn’t easy work, but it did pay well- at least if he wasn’t paying for medical bills after. Sarah was probably waiting for him there. She worked as a teacher in the mornings, and alongside Alastair in the evenings. When they were home, they spent most of their time with Constantine. He above all, required their attention right now.

“Constantine?” Alastair called, his knuckles brushing the door before he slowly opened it to reveal the living corpse his friend had become. 

Constantine sat on the edge of his bed, facing directly towards the window, his silver eyes open, yet unseeing. He had been sitting there for days now, his eyes unblinking and his voice primarily unused. His warm, rich voice was a mere memory now. Where speaking had once been his favourite pastime, Alastair was lucky to even get a single word out of him for days. It was even up to him and Sarah to make sure Constantine even ate properly, and more often than not Alastair spent his nights beside his friend, waking him when the nightmares that lurked beneath his eyelids became too real. 

Reality by itself already carried more horror than his dreams could ever conjure. Alastair wasn’t sure whether waking him was a blessing or a curse.

“I’ve made some lunch. It's just grilled cheese, but I think it’d be good if you ate something before I left.” Alastair said, noting his friend had lost more weight. The once proud face of Ecclesia stood gaunt, wilted- the light in his eyes gone, and the strength of his posture leached away by grief and sorrow. His hair had grown past his ears, the tips dark, just like Jericho’s had been just a few months before, long and unkempt. Constantine had never let himself fall into such a state previously- he, at times, had seemed to value his appearance above all, but that sentiment was gone now; lost to adulthood, or bereavement, it was hard to tell. Alastair put a light hand on his shoulder, less for his reassurance and more as a comfort to himself. These days, he wasn’t sure if Constantine would just up and disappear too; life was such a fleeting thing he had learned. “I’ll bring it up.”

Before Alastair could step away, Constantine’s hand shot out, grabbing ahold of his arm. His fingers looked thin enough to snap, pale and so fragile. Just looking at him made Alastair feel the weight of everything fall so keenly on his shoulders- the weight of death, of his own reality.

“Please,” He paused, looking directly into his eyes for the first time in days. Alastair stopped then, too afraid to move and possibly ruin the courage Constantine had finally found to speak again. He wouldn’t be able to continue on if he lost Constantine too, and recently death seemed far too close, like a shadow that lingered behind every door. “Please don’t leave again. I can’t stand it- I can’t stand being alone.”

His voice was choked with an onslaught of emotion and raspy with disuse, his plea as isolated as he was now- alone in a world with no family left to call his own . Constantine hadn’t asked anything of them since Jericho had gone. Without being prompted, Alastair sat down beside him, remaining despite the responsibilities that racked his mind. 

“I’m here.” Alastair didn’t know what else to say, but it seemed like enough for him. Constantine leaned back into Alastair’s chest and stayed there, his head bowed and shoulders quivering. For a moment, he froze before relaxing and letting his arm find its way across the blonde’s shoulders. “I’ll always be here.”

The sky was dark when Alastair finally found his way back to the familiar little magic shop he had used to own. It had technically been property under Constantine’s control, but there had been a good length of time the blonde hadn’t done anything but recuperate. The only reason Alastair had recalled it at all was the cursed relic- things of that nature almost always came from black magic shops. 

The building was small, nearly invisible with how it had been shoved between two slightly larger establishments. The windows were tinted, offering no view of the inside, and advertisements and notices were pasted all over the glass, as if the place hadn’t been looked after for a while. Alastair wasn’t sure what to expect when he pulled the door handle, but when the door opened into darkness he took a tentative step forwards and didn’t look back. 

“Welcome in!” A low, gravelly voice greeted, and Alastair just looked up to meet a pair of familiar bright blue eyes: Oliver DeWinter. He looked healthy having aged as many years as Alastair- he had a strong back and those same eyes, only now there were a few creases lining them. If Alastair hadn’t known he had abandoned his family for heresy, he might have patted the man on the back and congratulated him for surviving Ecclesia and Constantine unscathed. Alastair had been marked by both. Scarred . “Are you looking for something specific, or just browsing?”

The store had a few dated antiques set around, along with flickering candles and a myriad of old, rusted weapons. The smell of heavy incense mingled with the smell of age and dust, cloyingly strong and familiar to Alastair’s own shop. The inside was much larger than it appeared to be from the outside, with rows of undusted display cases lining the carpeted floor. Alastair might have laughed if the situation wasn't so serious. This place hadn't changed either; its current owner also refused to clean it.

“Did this come from your shop?” Alastair asked, approaching the register and depositing the relic on the glass display case that already held a mechanical cash register. Oliver raised his eyebrows, blinking down at the item and then back at his face, a wrinkle of hesitation creasing his dark brows.

He had been expecting him. 

“You… Alastair? Alastair Hunt, is that you?” Oliver asked, leaning forward, just the whisper of a smile falling on his lips. Alastair didn’t return the smile, he glared forward, the anger from what felt like a million lifetimes ago, barely buzzing to the forefront of his mind. “It's been so long! I barely recognized you-”

“Who told you I’d be here?”

“Oh I-,” The man glanced downwards before shrugging helplessly, a bemused smile pulling at his lips. “Well having come all this way, do you really need to ask?”

Alastair let out a shaky breath, his silver eyes flickering downwards as a crippling fear suddenly gripped his heart. He never wanted to see Constantine again. Not in this lifetime, definitely not in the next. He needed to get over this before he actually did meet him. If he was stronger, he might have tried.

“Where is he then?” Alastair asked, his hand going to his hip. Oliver watched his motions, looking a little sad, but as far as Alastair knew, it was all an act- a farce, like the one he had kept going for so many years in front of Ecclesia, the one he had upheld in front of his wife. It left a bitter taste in his mouth. “Lie, and I won’t be afraid to put a bullet through your head once and for all.”

“He’s not here if that's what you’re asking.” Oliver said, leaning down to poke at his register, his eyes no longer on Alastair or his weapon. It was prideful derision- a fool’s way of acting, with complete disregard towards one’s own life. Alastair felt himself sag against the counter a bit, exhaustion just lining the edges of his eyes. “You know I can’t let you kill him again.”

“He killed Sarah, Oliver. He killed Declan- he killed a child, your son’s age, a kid.” Alastair shook his own head, dark hair falling into his eyes. He took a deep breath in through his nose before looking at the proud man before him. No, no man could be proud after doing what Oliver had. Alastair searched for the proud man he once knew, and scoffed when he saw only a pathetic, lonely skeleton of a person. It made him feel more empathy than he intended. “He doesn’t deserve your allegiance, he doesn’t deserve anything, except the grave Joseph pulled him from. I know you’ve hated me for years, bu-”

“Hated you?” The man echoed, his eyes wide. The light of the candle just illuminated the sharp curve of his jaw, the simmering anger beneath his controlled movements. “I stuck so close to Constantine, but he always chose you .”

With practised ease, Oliver swung a massive spear, longer than Alistair was tall, and pointed it directly towards his neck, unblinking. Back in their school days, no one could beat him in melee so long as he had his signature spear. Seeing him wielding it now was a terrible sight, and surely going to be difficult for Alastair, now that he had touched an old wound. 

“What was so special about Alastair Hunt?” Oliver asked himself, or perhaps the surrounding walls. Alastair didn't care who he'd asked particularly, he only needed to dodge Oliver as he leaped over the display case with ease and attempted to chop his head clean from his shoulders. Suddenly he stopped pursuing Alastair, pausing to shake his head as laughter consumed him, like having a conversation with himself was a normal thing. Seeing how isolated the man was now, Alastair almost couldn’t blame him for his madness. Most of Constantine’s followers had to be crazy to some extent. Alastair himself had been no exception back then. “You’re not smart, not strong, not handsome-”

With each of his words, Oliver swung the massive spear towards Alastair, caring little for the display items that were obliterated in the wake of his movements. Glass shattered, scattering everywhere, covering the ground in a dangerous, reflective nightmare. Alastair would have to move carefully lest he expose himself through sound or movement. 

“Not delusional either,” he murmured to himself as he took shelter behind a display case in the darkness. From here, he could see Oliver’s steps without getting slashed in half. It gave him a chance to think of a plan for facing off with the man. He couldn't draw any blood- Oliver was the head of the cult and would probably try using blood magic unprompted. Alastair didn't need to give him any opportunities. That being said, he also couldn't kill, or sedate him either. He needed him conscious to get an answer. His gun would be useless here. 

The slight glimmer of the display case’s contents caught Alastair’s eye before he could deliberate further. A long curved sickle with a silver blade and an ornamental chain sat untouched, clearly blunt after so many years of disuse but still very much a weapon. If Alastair chose to take this weapon, he would have to forfeit his hiding spot. It would be impossible to take without noise. 

It had been years since he had last used a melee weapon… When he thought about it, he hadn’t missed it either. 

Alastair tossed a smoke bomb across the shop randomly, waiting for the tell-tale hissing of recently compressed gas to sound. When he saw Oliver turn away towards the distraction, Alastair reached into the case and drew the weapon, the scythe a familiar weight in his hand. 

“Distraction isn’t going to help you, Alastair.” Oliver laughed from across the shop, completely silhouetted in the blanket of cloudy smoke that was quickly pooling outwards. Because of the projectile, it was hard to pinpoint where the man was exactly- Alastair could only really rely on his hearing at this point, and since Oliver had decided to shut up he wasn’t relying on much. 

“Helped me back with Constantine,” Alastair lied, hoping to provoke the man into doing something foolish. If there was something that got both of their blood pressure’s on the rise, it was the previous Dracula. “You know, one time he was actually talking about recruiting you- but you know me: one man show. It didn’t take much of a distraction to get him to drop that idea though. Knowing you had a wife in the collegium was enough all on its own. Too bad that relationship didn’t last either.”

His wife had to be another sore spot. Alastair didn’t need to know him intimately to know that. 

Oliver came dashing out of the smoke, his spear already thrown like a javelin across the shop, mighty and terrifying. The action was so sudden Alastair barely dodged out the way, its angled blade just slicing past his shoulder. His first thought was how close he had almost lost an arm, but his second was a counter attack. Oliver was unarmed, and as long as Alastair kept him across the shop, there was a good chance he could keep him that way. He shook his head, remembering the melee weapon clasped in his hand. 

He needed to be upfront and direct. With a weapon like this ornamental sickle, he’d at least have to be in midrange if he was going to land a hit. Having already wasted a few seconds, Alastair took a chance to move forward, his weapon curving around him protectively. The motion was so familiar it almost made him smile despite his circumstances. 

“What about your wife, Hunt?” Oliver grinned as Alastair glowered at him, his light eyes reflecting the silver of the sickle’s curved blade. He lunged forward manically then, catching the blade between his hands and leaning straight into Alastair’s face, as if he wasn’t experiencing any pain at all. “She didn’t last either.”

Before he could respond, Oliver grabbed hold of the scythe with a grunt, lifting Alastair with it and tossed both him and the weapon across the store like they were nothing more than broken toys. Alastair winced as he rolled, the scythe cutting into his back as he finally hit a display case and came to a hard stop. He didn’t get a chance to breathe as Oliver grabbed ahold of the front of his shirt and began pummeling him with his fists- like every grievance he had accrued over his thirty-some years of life were being aired out then and there. 

For a second all Alastair could do was take the man’s anger, blow after blow landing on his chest, some on his arms, and a few on his face. Sluggishly, he tried to use his good arm to try and struggle free, but Oliver had him pinned down, his knee on his abdomen and fists unrelenting. All he could do was fumble at the ground and- Alastair felt his fingers nick a large shard of glass, and latched onto it.

With his quickly draining strength, he grabbed a hold of a shard of glass and stabbed blindly into Oliver, thinking only of stopping the man’s brutishly strong hands. 

“Why won’t you use your damned magic?” Oliver demanded, his blows finally coming to a stop and giving him a brief moment of respite. Alastair didn’t let it go to waste. He stabbed the glass into his leg ruthlessly before rolling the opposite direction of the display case. 

“What did he tell you, Oliver?” Alastair asked, rising shakily to his feet. He nearly staggered as his brain sloshed back into place and then steadied himself with his trustworthy scythe. He eyed the blood that slowly dripped from the injury in Oliver’s thigh and wondered if he had unintentionally pierced an artery. In his previous years, Alastair had almost always aimed to kill. Despite his earlier sympathy, he found himself apathetic as he watched Oliver grow paler by the second. Then he remembered Call’s friend and blinked himself out of his stupor. “The sooner you tell me the sooner we can get that injury of yours taken care of.”

Chapter Text

The hedge maze was completely shadowed by night by the time they returned to it. The air was still and cold, barely a whisper of life present in the darkness. It was like the night itself had witnessed Tanaka’s death, as if it too was offering a moment of silence in the face of such an ill omen. Call couldn’t honour that though, he was in too much shock; too much horror. His mouth moved of its own accord, his words sounded empty just like how he felt.

“Why did you- why did you do that?” He barked out, terrified. He grabbed a hold of Magnus’s arm roughly, just casting a glance back at Aaron to make sure he was still following behind them. Call wasn’t exactly one to speak, but the blonde didn’t take well to death. Maybe it was because of his burden as a Belmont, or maybe it was just the way Aaron naturally was; the passing of life seemed to mark his very conscious, to scar the boy in a way others didn’t understand. It was ironic considering how much death the church expected him to dole out with his own two hands. “We could have let him go free. He could have learned to live without the church for once -”

“Callum, did your father never tell you of the difficulty it takes to live a life running from an entity larger than life itself? Did he never share of the relentless hunt the church took on to purge him?” Magnus stopped walking then, twisting his arm free only to take a hold of Call’s shoulder himself. Despite the thick lenses that hid his eyes, Call could feel the severity boring into him, he could sense the devastation. Magnus was as torn by his own actions as Aaron was. “That man spoke truly when he said no one escapes the church. You of all people should understand that.”

Call felt his lips clench shut for once, his true fate ringing in his ears loudly. Magnus knew only of what Alastair had gone through, but his words rang with a far louder note of finality for Call. They rung with the weight of Dracula’s fate. If the church knew, he would have to suffer far worse than Master Tanaka. 

Call was only surviving as a coward- Tanaka had no such choice.

“That doesn’t mean he deserved to die.” Aaron said, his voice thin and quiet, like a wavering flame bound to go out. Call felt his lips tremble, Drew’s face suddenly appearing in his thoughts. He hadn’t deserved to die either. 

Magnus sighed, a breathy aged sort of sound, like he too was crumbling under the weight of his own choices. Back when he had been following around Alastair, Call had just thought him to be a weird middle-aged man, someone who said cryptic things to try and assert his own intelligence. It was easy to dislike someone when you only knew one side of them. Call wasn’t sure he liked this side any better though.

“Some people don’t have the strength to keep running… To keep losing, to continue hurting. Sometimes, death is the greatest reprieve you can give to someone.” Magnus said, his words echoing his previous statement back in the Laboratory. His gaze had shifted to Aaron over the course of his speech, holding the boy in place even though Call could see the blonde barely suppressing his shivering. “I don’t expect you to understand, but I do hope this doesn’t affect the way you see me. I only acted as he requested.”

“You’re actually a monster.” Aaron grit out, pulling away from them both with wide, frightened eyes. In the light of the moon, he looked seconds away from crying. The gleam in his eyes startled Call, it was like his humanity had been painted in broad strokes bared for the entire world to see. It was something Call had undeniably lost. In Magnus’s case, it was hard to say whether he had given up his humanity because of duty or out of choice.

“Aaron, wait!” Magnus put a stern hand on Call’s shoulder, holding him back from chasing after the other boy. 

“Give him space,” The clergyman whispered, his fingers barely trembling. If they hadn’t been making contact, Call wouldn’t have noticed at all. “A bit of alone time will do the boy good.”

Call watched Aaron disappear into the maze, his legs burning with the desire to follow him- to make things right even where he couldn’t. Even after Magnus let go, Call stood still, hesitation gluing his legs together. He stared after Aaron, wondering if this was what it had felt like when he and Jasper had run out of the Forbidden Library all those months ago. 

“Taking another life is never a good thing, Callum.” Magnus said, breaking the silence. He stumbled past Call his head downturned, but ultimately it was his eyes that made Call pause; it was the truth that bled through his facade that made him realise it. “Mr. Belmont is very correct in his analysis of me: I am indeed a monster .”

He and Magnus…They were one and the same. 

“I am too.”

Magnus really looked a thim then, a sad sort of smile pulling at his ashen lips. Call didn’t have the heart to return it. Then the clergyman reached into one of his billowing white sleeves and handed him a small, velvet box. 

“Your father told me to give this to you before we parted. He mentioned it was important.”

Call took the box tentatively, examining it for a moment before catching sight of his father’s spidery handwriting. There was a certain weight to the box despite its size and part of Call wanted to open it then and there knowing that Magnus had probably already examined its contents. He didn’t.

“Thanks.”

The following morning was cold and bleary, like the sun itself was reluctant to rise. Or maybe, it just didn’t have the confidence to peer between the clouds like it usually did. Maybe it was afraid, or maybe it was just tired. 

The gift his father had given him was another ring, only this one wasn’t like the others. This ring had five blood-red jewels inlaid on its golden surface. Just from the scent alone, he could tell it wasn’t the natural colour of those stones; Call could smell actual blood- Alastair’s blood. The note attached confirmed his thoughts, though subtly as most of his father’s correspondence was. No one was more aware of Ecclesia’s nosy nature than his dad. 

“Good luck on the trials. This ring is the key to getting through.”

Call  had slipped it onto his finger and then collapsed backwards, exhausted. He hadn’t slept at all that night. Dracula was supposed to have power over death, but power didn’t mean it was easy to witness. It hadn’t been easy with Drew, and seeing it happen with Master Tanaka wasn’t easy either. Call had seen life leave his blood-red eyes, he had seen his vampire-kin cut down. 

How much longer was he just expected to watch other vampires get cut down? If he wanted to continue living ‘peacefully’ the answer to that question was forever . Call had never held strong convictions against the church. He had thought things were unfair, but he could see the reason behind their scheming often enough. 

The Necromancy Laboratory had changed that for him though. Nothing was the same after seeing such a place.  

Aaron was tired that morning too. He got up and mechanically went to the bathroom, refusing to acknowledge Call- refusing  to say anything. When Call followed behind him to brush his own teeth, he noticed the blonde’s eyes were rimmed red like he had spent the entire night crying. Call was afraid if he said anything, Aaron might start again so he clung to Magnus’s advice like a frightened child.

He didn’t say a word because he wasn’t sure what to say. Call had promised Aaron to protect him, but now he realised it wasn’t just physical threats he had to protect him from. How was Call supposed to protect his glass heart? It wasn’t like he could protect everyone else too- he hadn’t been able to save Master Tanaka. How was Call supposed to save him from the church, when Aaron himself wanted to cling to them?

 Sure, Constantine had been revived and someone had been after Call’s life, but the true evil they were witnessing was all a byproduct of the church. It was Ecclesia’s fault people were being experimented on. It was Ecclesia’s fault vampires couldn’t just live freely- without the risk of persecution and death. It was Ecclesia’s fault an entire family had been sent to an early death; a death Aaron lived in waking fear of every day. Call stumbled through the motions of putting on his uniform, the buttons on his shirt barely symmetrical. 

It was hard to concentrate when he thought about everything objectively- from an outside point of view. Ecclesia didn’t deserve to exist. It made sense Constantine was trying to wipe it off the face of the planet. That was a mercy-

When Aaron stumbled out the door of their room, Call stumbled after him desperate not to lose sight of his friend. Desperate not to lose sight of his only reason for not completely annihilating the church. 

Call stopped, at a loss. He had never thought that way before. 

“Where did you guys go last night? You were gone for a while.” Tamara said conversationally, sidling up to Aaron as the blonde continued down the dimly lit hallway. Call realised the reason the sun hadn’t risen yet was because they had gotten up before it. Today was the first day of the coliseum, and that meant early preparations. The thought of participating in such a stupid competition in the face of the previous night’s events made him sick to his stomach. “Aaron?”

 “We just hung out in the maze.” Aaron murmured, turning away from her even as Tamara pulled at his arm. He couldn’t tell her what they had seen. Tamara lived her every breath for the church. It would be like forcing her to swallow acid. Call thought that made it even more important for her to know. “We stayed up late, I’m just tired.”

“Did you make him cry, Call?” Jasper whispered, somehow appearing beside him. There were other junior students filing into the hallways, their shadows flickering with the waning candlelight. It felt like they were a walking augury: an obvious indication of evil that everyone could see, but turned a blind eye to. Call looked towards Jasper, willing all of his emotions to be conveyed without a single word. “What?”

“I’ll tell you later. When we have time.”

And just like that, the morning was taken from him. Teachers were waiting in front of a massive room Call hadn’t explored yet- one that was guarded by two gilded doors nearly two times his size. Master Rufus and some of their other junior-year teachers stood about, idling away as students continued to enter in a line. Standing on his toes, Call could just see above the line of heads: the other students were picking something out and then being seated. On closer inspection of those that had been seated, Call realised they were choosing their weapons for the trials. 

It only took a few moments until he was standing before the crates and crates of endless weaponry- maces, swords, daggers. Call had been so preoccupied with other things he hadn’t even considered which weapon he would take into the trials themselves. After the previous night, he honestly didn’t feel too willing to even wield one. 

“You’ve got to choose one .” Ms. Milagros encouraged him gently as he neared the end of the selection. Call felt his brow flick up, his expression dripping with reluctance. “You won’t want to enter the trials without something to protect yourself with. Even mages at least grab a dagger.”

The golden flickering of the candles could mask nothing; these weapons were blessed and made of pure silver. No one could make any mistake: they had been made with the sole purpose of killing vampires  and other creatures of the night. They were made to kill him . 

“I’ll just take this, I guess.” Call shrugged, grabbing the dark hilt of a curved blade. It felt heavy in his hand, like the weight of his choice feeling scarily close to betrayal. No- it was the weight of guilt; by wielding this weapon he was securing his place as a human and distancing himself from vampirism on a whole. Funny how badly he had wanted to return to his humanity a few months back when humans often seemed just as bad as vampires if not worse. 

Jasper had chosen a spear that looked similar to the one he usually used. After claiming their weapons, both boys took a seat in the row of chairs that had been set up. Because it had taken so long for Call to choose, Aaron and Tamara had already chosen their seats in the row in front of them. Call stared hard at the blonde’s head, silently anxious about what he was thinking, or considering- about how he was feeling. 

More than anything, he wished there was something he could do. 

“So are you gonna tell me?” Jasper repeated, leaning back in his chair looking unimpressed. “Or are you just gonna keep staring at the back of Aaron’s head like a girl with her first crush?”

As the line began to dwindle, Call watched Master North rise to the front, his dark robes long enough to make it look like he was floating instead of walking. His face was pinched and eyes were hollowed by dark circles; to Call, he looked no different than a priest rising to speak at a funeral. In this case, a mass funeral. 

“Later,” Call sighed tiredly, sinking into his own chair. 

“I would like to begin with saying good morning and welcome to all students. Today marks the beginning of the first trial of your junior year: the trial of cunning and survival. This trial primarily focuses on your survival in a foreign location for a total of forty-eight hours.” Master North paused in his usual drawn-out manner of speech and began pacing, his hands clasped behind his back. It looked like his knuckles were white with how tightly his skin was pulled. “Points will be allotted for the destruction of monsters, the wise use of material, and for any other cunning students may think of during the duration of this trial. The more successful and complex the tactic is, the more points given.”

“Where are we going?” Rafe asked, his hand shooting up after he had asked his question. Master North gave him a dry look.

“The two-hundred junior year students will be divided among four different regions. Each of these four locations intersect at different points, meaning you can enter a different region if you travel far enough. Each of these intersection points are guarded by four principal enemies. Destroying these enemies will grant a significant amount of points in contrast to some of the more simple enemies that run amok in the regions.” Master North took a few steps towards the left and pulled a large cloth off a crystal globe. It looked nearly identical to the magical orb Joseph had forced Call to manipulate, only there were no images on its glassy surface. From where he sat, the orb seemed pitch black, it's surface swallowing any wayward shards of light. “Students will enter the portal through means of their blood. A simple slit on your thumb will allow us to match you to the previous samples we took at the beginning of the year. Do not try any tricks here as this blood will act as the source of identification for your entry as well as source for your point collection.”

Master North took in a shaky breath and then motioned for some of the other teachers to stand ready by his side. 

“As a last note, students will not be able to leave before the forty-eight hours have passed. Similarly, teachers and other staff will not be given entry. The monsters within this pocket dimension will not inflict any mortal injuries, however this does not mean they will not attack and defend themselves.” His words would have robbed Call of his breath if he had any left to cry over. They were being locked in. Ecclesia was just sending them to another castle to fight, survive, and cry about. He had never wished for a paper exam more. “All of this said, all of Ecclesia will be watching you during this time as will multiple recruiters, collegium professors, and the high council. So do try your best.”

 With an abrupt wave of his hand, Lemuel called the first row of students to stand and form a line at the ominous looking globe. Jasper grabbed his shoulder before he could examine the process any further. 

“Do you-?”

“Yeah,” Call acknowledged, reading the question from his lips before it could be stated. He ran his thumb idly over his new ring, Magnus’s pale face flashing into his mind. “My dad and I already have it all figured out.” 

It didn’t take long for their row to be called. Aaron and Tamara had already been portalled off by the time Call and Jasper had even joined the line of doom. Part of him wondered if anyone else thought they were being sent to their deaths, but he kept himself from asking Jasper out loud. He didn’t feel like it was a good question to ask with so many people around. 

When Call was only second in line, he easily removed one of the gems from his ring and crushed it between his fingers, trying hard not to think of all the blood he could smell around him. 

“Point your thumb towards me and repeat, ‘ Gloria cruore pollicita.’” Master Milagros instructed, pressing his hand against the surface of the globe. Despite the nothingness that floated about within, the glassy surface was actually hot, nearly burning. Call wanted to flinch, but he hadn’t seen anyone react that way.

“What does that mean?” He asked instead. He had heard those words before too, back when at the Necromancy Laboratory. 

“Mean? Oh, glory-” She paused, her eyes flitting upwards in thought before meeting his gaze. “Glory promised by blood.”

Chapter Text

When Call opened his eyes, he was surrounded by white, searing light. It took a moment for his vision to adjust and then he realised it was sunlight- pure and warm like an embrace. Despite the cloud-spotted sky, the bright sun cut through effortlessly, reflecting off of massive buildings far in the distance. They were skyscrapers, he realised after a moment; mighty towers that twisted high into the clouds, their steel beams bright and reflective where they weren’t reclaimed by crawling ivy. 

No, these structures weren’t mighty, they were practically monuments now- monuments of a previous time. The more he stared, the more he saw their failures. Roots thicker than steel  entangled the base of many of the tilted structures, reclaiming them for nature.

A cool breeze swept past him, sudden but welcoming. It brought  the scent of old, oxidised metal and something fresh. Call brought himself to his feet and belatedly realised he had landed in a shallow pond of crystal clear water; near its bank was a patch of happy, yellow daisies all dancing carelessly in the breeze. It was peaceful, like the fulfilled anticipation of a kept promise. 

He had initially thought they would be tossed into a raging war zone, with the way Master North had kept every detail hush hush. The last thing he expected was a quiet, abandoned city that was slowly being repainted by the natural world. Even if everything was just created for the sake of the trial, the stillness was surprisingly nice. 

“Call?” A loud voice asked, disturbing the serenity in an instant. He didn’t have to turn to know it was Tamara’s voice. Only she could speak his name and manage to sound annoyed, curious, and disappointed all at the same time. “Did we end up in the same region together?”

“Seems like it,” He muttered, unable to keep the note of regret out of his voice. Of all the people he could have ended up with, Tamara was probably the worst. He didn’t know how he could talk to her- not after what had happened. 

He wanted to tell her how horrible the church was, but he knew Aaron wouldn’t have lied without a reason. He was obviously trying to protect her. 

“You too?” Tamara asked, her dark eyes flickering over his face before looking out towards the distance. Call felt his stomach churn as he caught concern pulling her lips downwards. She was worried about them, but there wasn’t anything he could say to assuage her. He could pretend like nothing had happened. He had done that before in the past. “Did you fight? Did you do something that made Aaron mad?”

Call felt his jaw lock, words twisting his tongue into knots. He had failed to protect Master Tanaka after promising to protect Aaron, so he had, kind of- indirectly been the reason. The fact that Tamara assumed that it was his fault didn’t exactly feel good, but he had to put it past her; his reputation wasn’t exactly pristine.

“Nothing happened. Didn’t Aaron tell you? Just tired.” He said resolutely, the lie falling out of his mouth easily- far more easily than any truth would have. “But weren’t you, like, super into getting points for the trials? Don’t you have bigger things to worry about?”

“I can want a high score and worry about my friends, you know?” Tamara said, shaking her head. She placed a tentative hand on his shoulder, like she was afraid he might flinch away and then sighed. “I know it hasn’t just been the two of us for a while, but I think we could rack up a lot of points if we worked together?”

It was her attempt to patch over all the petty arguments they had been having up to this point- all of their squabbles about Ecclesia and ethics and whatnot. If Call told her he didn’t want to work together he’d be spitting on their friendship as a whole. If he accepted, he’d have to follow her around, the burden of the previous night heavier than ever. It didn’t help that Tamara had a naturally nosy personality either. 

“I don't even want a lot of points-”

“Great! Then you can focus on helping me get mine!” She announced, latching onto his arm like she was afraid if they separated he might just turn into mist and disappear. Considering his vampiric abilities, it actually was a possible option for him. “I think we should aim for at least two principle enemies- one for each day to maximise points.”

“I was thinking about breakfast.” Call said, blinking at her. She pursed her lips. “We could always just split up-”

“No, you’re right. It's better to collect food early on. It looks like it might rain later anyway.” Without further ado, she turned and began following an offshoot stream of water that escaped from the pond, expecting him to follow. Call figured he didn’t have much of a choice. “Do you remember when we first met in the castle? We went looking for food then too.”

Tamara smiled, chuckling to herself and Call was reminded of how pretty she looked when she laughed. For some reason he couldn’t remember the last time she had directed anything close to a smile at him. 

She deserved to know what the church was up to, Call was a firm believer of that no matter what Aaron chose to do. The only problem was, no part of him wanted to tell her. He was trying to fix their relationship, not break it even further.

Wasn’t the principle of friendship based around honesty? 

“Yeah, you were acting like my saviour, but it turned out all you had was a single piece of toast.” Call felt his lips quirk up recalling the memory, ignoring his other thoughts to reminisce. The smile felt heavy, like it was a fake gesture of friendliness. “I thought you were gonna magick it into a chicken or something.”

“That's not how magic works, Call.” Tamara said, stopping with her hands placed proudly on her hips. She was grinning and looking at the water before them like it was her next conquest. 

The small stream they had followed had emptied out into a much larger river. Jagged rocks peeked out of the foaming rush, water charging down the bank at a much faster speed than the gentle stream they had followed. Even after just standing there for a moment, Call saw a sliver of silver flash upwards before splashing back into the depths. 

There was probably enough fish to last them for both days.

“You know how to fish?” He asked, his question shouted above the sound of the water. Even with the water rushing past them, the incredulity of his question bled through his words making Tamara roll her eyes. Truth be told, Call wasn’t exactly a fishing expert- his only experience was with Rahab, after all- but, he was pretty sure it generally took a while. And a rod. Neither he nor Tamara had chosen anything remotely rod-like as a weapon. 

“Of course not. I’ve got something better: magic.” Tamara stood there for a moment, like she was awaiting an exaggerated, impressed reaction from him and then cleared her throat. “You don’t have a net by any chance, do you?”

Call looked down at his haphazardly worn uniform and then undid the misaligned buttons of his shirt. This annoying uniform hadn’t ever done him much good. The only thing it was good at was slowing him down in the morning. He took a moment to tuck Constantine’s ring back into the tanktop he was wearing underneath and presented the shirt to Tamara.

“This should work, right?”

“It's gonna smell like fish for the rest of its life, are you okay with that?” She asked, reaching into a tiny bag on her waist. She wasn’t wearing the school uniform. Instead she had opted for something that looked a lot more comfortable and practical: pants that had actual pockets for one thing and a long sleeved shirt that offered more utility. Call hadn’t known they were allowed to ditch the uniform for the trials, not that he had much else to wear aside from pajamas. 

“It’ll serve more purpose as a net than it ever did for me,” Call shrugged, watching as Tamara flicked tiny, glittering fragments into the water. For a second, the action mesmerized him, her hand reaching into the mysterious little bag only to produce what looked to be bits of pure sunlight. “What are you-?”

“I’m throwing bits of copper into the water. It's to help with the conductivity.” She explained, tying her bag shut once more. With that she squatted down, her fingers outstretched in a way that reminded Call of the way he had used to try and summon the television remote to himself. “Be ready downstream, there's going to be a lot of fish all at once.”

With her instructions relayed, Call hopped across a few of the protruding stones and dipped his outstretched shirt into the water. The rocks were slick but not impossible to balance on, and an obviously better option than standing directly in the water. His shirt had been tied off at both the bottom and top to make for a better makeshift net, but part of him still wondered if it was enough. No part of the thin, white material looked even somewhat capable of holding anything more than a pencil.

“I’m going to start!” Tamara shouted, glancing at him before staring back down at her hands. Within a second of her warning, the river lit up with blue electricity- arcs of lightning tracing the waves as they rushed toward him. Call dropped his shirt, realising it wouldn’t withstand the oncoming heat; he might not even withstand such concentrated voltage. A drop of water flicked onto his skin, searing into his flesh and that was all it took Call to know he needed to get away. He rushed back towards the rocks, nearly slipping and submerging his entire leg into Tamara’s human-sized fryer. When he  tumbled onto the shore, he sagged with relief, watching as sparks flickered left and right, like the river itself had been transformed into a live wire. Then a large fish popped out of the depths, slapping the dirt next to him and making him flinch; it was charred almost perfectly, its scales just peeling off around the edges. 

“Tamara! You can stop!” Call shouted, doubting his voice would make it over the sound of both water and current. She looked toward him, her dark eyes alight with the reflection of lightning, her braids whipping around her with her proximity to such energy. She looked crazy- like some sort of mad sorcerer from a movie.

It took a charged second, but Call watched her finally pull away, the remnants of her magic still coursing through the river in a final display of power and heat. It was only after the electricity had run its course that Call realised how successful her plan had been. Dead fish decorated both banks of the river, and a large pile had accumulated on some of the protruding rocks. Aside from the steam that now wafted off the surface, and the icky smell of charred, dead animal they were going to be eating well during the entire duration of this trial. 

“I know we aren’t on the best terms, but I didn’t expect you to actually try and kill me,” Call couldn’t stop the smirk from pulling at his lips as Tamara neared him, examining him with worry. “I’m shocked .”

“Oh my god, I thought I actually-” She paused as his half-truth and pun finally hit her and she nudged him familiarly, plopping down beside him to examine some of their catch. She stabbed her dagger into one of the charred fish and examined it distastefully. “I honestly didn’t think my magic would be that strong… You’re actually okay, right?”

“Other than the fact that I’ll be the one making the plans from now on,” Call paused, taking the dagger from her hand and taking a large bite. Tamara wrinkled her nose at him. “Yeah, I’m good. Your exact objectives are still a little fishy to me-”

Call paused as the entire bank of the river seemed to shift, forcing both him and Tamara to jump to their feet defensively. Out seemingly nowhere, a massive crustacean emerged from the depths of the river, its compounded eyes bulging and large. It was clearly seeking something out. 

Call didn’t even need to hold his breath, but he heard Tamara’s last, sharp intake of breath as clear as day. They both watched the creature shuffle across the shore, its mandible extended as it began collecting some of the  fish they had caught.

“Do you have butter?” He whispered, nudging her as they both continued to watch the massive monster demolish their hard work. Tamara turned and gave him an offended look, like she couldn’t believe he was asking that question right then. “What? Everyone knows butter goes great with crab.”

“You want to eat that thing?” Tamara whispered back, shaking her head. “We should just ambush it-”

“It's my turn to plan, remember?” Call reminded her, taking another bite of the fish on her dagger before flicking off the remains. She watched him, looking very ready to say something disapproving. “Fried is better than steamed, okay? But don’t char it-”

“That's the plan ?” She stuttered, watching as Call began to examine the river. The stepping stones he had previously used to get across, had disappeared revealing where exactly the two-ton crab had appeared from. Call himself had probably woken the creature with all his desperate jumping; that paired with the smell of dinner had probably been enough to wake the creature and draw it towards the shore. Curiously, Call tossed a few small stones towards the oversized crustacean, but didn’t get much of a reaction. The crab had a thick carapace covered in a bright layer of spongy coral and barnacles. He wasn’t even sure if it could feel through the thick layer of gunk that had collected on its shell for what looked like a millenia.  

“It doesn’t even care,” Call vocalised, feeling a bit of sympathy for the creature even if it was just an extension of Ecclesia’s magic. Had Master North mentioned who exactly was responsible for these weird magic portals? Could Master Tanaka just have been a life-like magical illusion too? It would be so much easier if that was the case, but Call knew too much to believe in a delusion; he was Dracula, he could differentiate between life and illusion. Even when he didn’t want to. “If you can freeze it I can hack at its underside, go!”

Without waiting for an affirmation, Call dashed upstream towards an area where he could more easily cross and gave Tamara a toothy grin while sliding beneath the crab’s legs. Despite her complaints, Tamara sent a jolt of magic towards the crab, freezing its legs and claws in place. This caught its attention faster than Call’s presence. 

“Uh, where am I supposed to slash it?” Call asked, flinching and pressing himself against the muddy shore to avoid the beast’s wild thrashing. Even despite its best efforts, Tamrara’s magic held, the shards of ice furious and beautiful like unbreakable diamonds. “It's like, still completely shell down here?”

“Get out from under there, Call! It's a crab, what do you think: it's covered in a shell!” Tamara yelled and he realised she too had approached the distance to grab the back of his tank top roughly. Right in time, the crab broke through the ice, its massive claws slamming down- exactly where Call had been in previous seconds- sending wet mud and fish flying outwards. 

For a second, Call just stared at Tamara, his lips quivering as near-death nervousness forced a chuckle from him. She glared hard at his smile, though he could still see the excitement pulsing behind her dark eyes. 

“This isn’t an enemy we can just hit hard enough and defeat! This is also a test of cunning, remember?” She chastised, smacking the back of his head. Call blinked at her and then at the angry crab that was making its way towards them. “If we’re gonna eat crab legs, we have to find a way to penetrate its outer defences!” 

“I don’t think we’ve got anything strong enough… I mean we could try to hack off its legs-” Tamara shoved hard at his shoulder, pushing them both back toward the river. As they rolled roughly into the water, Call just caught glimpses of the large creature lunging toward them, its eyes stocks bending awkwardly to keep them in sight.

“With your scimitar and my dagger? We’d have to get way too close!” Tamara shouted, spitting some water out and nearly onto Call. It was his turn to grab Tamara and haul them forcefully to the shore as the crab leapt again, landing with a destructive splash. 

“Use your lightning magic again!” Call urged her, and without another thought Tamara turned and sent crawling threads of electricity racing toward the river. For a second time that day, the river seemed to illuminate with power, only this time the crab was at the heart of the attack, bathing it in a furious display of sparks. But that wasn’t true, because the crab had crawled out of the river after Tamara had struck it with lightning. If it had survived once then a second time wouldn’t change anything. 

Call slapped his forehead, why hadn’t he realised that before? 

After the current had run its course, the crab stood mightily. The only visible change was the ever present crackle of electricity that pulsed about its shell, bouncing between the wayward pieces of coral. When it slammed its claw down into the river, it wasn’t just force- lightning crackled in a dangerous circle igniting the ground.

Tamara stared forward, completely dumbstruck. Apparently elemental magic wouldn’t work on this hell-crab. They needed at least a ton of pure force from something that wasn’t magic. That meant they would have to get creative. Call whipped around before his eyes locked onto a glimmer of something in the distance- something far, but not too far. 

“Can you drive?” Call asked, beginning to dash towards that distant glimmer of hope. Tamara followed his lead unconsciously, the angered crustacean just on their toes. 

“I-” She paused, and seemed to catch onto his idea as she realised what they were dashing towards. “I can, but we don’t even know if these vehicles will start! It could take a minute-”

 Call stopped abruptly, the soles of his converse digging into the grass as he turned to face their opponent. Tamara only continued for a few feet before turning back to give him an incredulous look. 

“The max I can get you is ten, is that enough?” When she gave him a stern look that said she refused to leave his side he gave her a lopsided grin, dodging out of the crab’s reach nonchalantly, like it was nothing more than child’s play. “I’m Captain Fishface, remember ? This is like the norm for me.”

“Yeah, well we saw what an appetite this thing has for fish!” Tamara shouted, turning to run. Looking at her back, all Call could see was trust. They may have been fighting and arguing, and maybe slightly hating each other, but when it came down to their lives, neither would doubt the other. Not for a second. “You better not get hurt! You’re hard enough to deal with as is!” 

Tamara dashed towards the abandoned vehicle, observing its deteriorated state and cracked windows. It was the remains of an electric truck, shattered and aged and almost definitely not in any shape to run. Reaching through the broken window, she easily popped the door open to  examine the wheel and ignition button. 

She had eight minutes and forty seconds. Her watch clicked in her ears, her eyes scanning the buttons before she tumbled out and back towards the hood of the car. She would have to charge the battery. Their previous efforts to get breakfast had already cost a great deal of magic, but it couldn’t be helped. 

Call was waiting on her now. 

Tamara positioned her hand above the car’s alternator and sent off a few jolts of electricity, praying it would begin to rotate. Aaron had taught her about cars a few years ago. Apparently, before he had ever come to Ecclesia that was one of the few things his father had taught him. That had probably been the first and last Tamara had heard him talk about his life before Ecclesia. 

Seven minutes. She glanced up from the battery to watch Call dance around the crab, anxiously. He looked like nothing more than a black speck of dust in comparison to its looming size, but Dracula’s prowess wasn’t something to be looked down upon. She swallowed and took her seat back within the car, her heart hammering as she pressed the ignition button. It took a moment but the truck rumbled to a start. She didn’t know what exactly Call had in mind with this vehicle, but she could think of a few terrible ideas the boy might conjure. 

Truth be told, Tamara had never driven a vehicle in her life. At home she had a driver, and when she didn’t have that she drove around on her bike. But that didn’t matter because Call hadn’t asked if she knew how to drive, he asked if she could . And Tamara knew better than anyone that she couldn’t be stopped if she put her mind to something. 

With her watch clicking in her ears, she stamped her foot down on the accelerator pressing hard enough to hear the tires skid in a painful screech before the metal body of the truck lurched forward hard enough to cause her whiplash. She didn’t let up. The vehicle rushed toward the creature, tumbling down the uneven path like a duckling just trying out its feet. She gripped the steering wheel for dear life, her heart hammering much faster than the clicking of her watch; exhilaration growing in her chest as she neared her friend. 

With a thump, Call flipped backwards onto the hood of the truck before tumbling into the seat beside her straight through where the windshield would have been on a less apocalyptic vehicle. With him out of the way, they were headed directly towards the crab, their speed building dangerously. 

“We should probably jump out.” Call said, his silver eyes growing larger as they continued to get closer.

“Why’d you jump in then?” She asked, her knuckles white as she anticipated his answer. 

“For you, duh,” Call laughed, prying her fingers off the wheel. Tamara looked forward and saw one of the crab’s massive claws loom over the vehicle, crackling with vengeful electricity. She had studied quite a few different types of monsters before entering the trials. She had never read of a creature absorbing magic. In the final second before their collision, Call grabbed her and leapt out of the moving vehicle sending them both tumbling like a pair of ragdolls. His arms were wound so tightly around her, it felt like she couldn’t breathe and then they hit something and stopped. Directly before her eyes, the truck exploded in a mass of smoke and flame. 

Tamara pushed off of him to blink before looking down at Call’s soot-stained face and grin. 

“You’re insane.”

“Says you ?” Call laughed, throwing his head back. He looked so unburdened for a moment Tamara could only match his mirth wondering where their friendship had disappeared to during all of their nonsense fighting. “I wanted the car so we could drive away! I wasn’t expecting you to use it as a bomb!” 

“Wait, what?” She asked, turning to look at him with wide eyes. “You totally wanted me to use it as a bomb!”

“I wanted to have a calm, easy morning eating fish.” Call smiled, his eyes losing their wary edge to look thoughtfully at her. Whatever had happened the previous evening finally seemed to release him, or maybe he had come to terms with it. Tamara hoped whatever the case was, he didn’t hold it within himself. Problems felt a lot smaller when they were shared among friends. “Think it’ll still be safe to eat his legs?”

A good part of the day had passed them by while they had struggled with the crab. Call hadn’t thought they might be able to salvage some part of the oversized crustacean, but after one sniff Tamara had resolutely told him they’d be feasting on fish for the better part of the next two days. 

It didn’t necessarily bother him. It wasn’t like he had to eat for sustenance after all, he was still full from the blood he had gotten from the fountain- well, pretty much. The real problem was shelter. Over the course of their fight, the sky had grown increasingly dark. Dark roiling clouds had covered the sun,  twisting their sunny afternoon into something that looked closer to a nightmare. Beneath green skies and accelerated winds, Call wasn’t thinking about finding any principle enemies; he just wanted to find somewhere warm and dry to huddle down for the night.  

“We should take cover in one of those skyscrapers. Since you got the car to work, maybe you can get the heat to work too.” Call muttered, dragging his feet as he hoisted the backpack of dried fish on his shoulder. He and Tamara had collected as much as they could from the shore before heading out- dirt covered fish could always be cleaned after all. 

“I doubt it,” Tamara admitted, kicking her feet as they made their way to one of the distant structures. Beneath the ominous sky, it no longer looked like any regular industrial building, it looked more like an abandoned sorcerer’s tower. She sniffed through her nose and then flashed him a glance- one that Call had never seen before. It was something gentle and curious, like warm rain on a summer evening. “How’s your dad doing? Was he able to reopen his shop?”

“I think he’s fine- his shop too. Sometimes it's hard to know, I guess.” Call said, not knowing the truth of the matter. Alastair had never been one to talk about his feelings, he never spoke about his problems or the issues he encountered. Call had to pry to get his father to open up even a little bit, to expect him to document and write those feelings out was like expecting gold at the end of a rainbow. He had struggled with it more when he was younger. Back then, he had tried to hide his emotions just like Alastair, now he just did it without thinking. They had gotten closer after all of this Dracula business, but sometimes it made Call feel more distant than ever. Alastair had hidden all evidence of Ecclesia for the greater part of Call’s life; how many other things was he withholding from his son? “What's it like having parents on the council? I’m sure that's not easy.”

Tamara laughed a little at that, her eyes lacking half the mirth she had vocalised. Her lack of enthusiasm talking about them was probably just because she had used a lot of magic before this. Unlike Call, she still retained her humanity and had to rest. That's what he guessed at least. From everything he had previously learned about Tamara, it seemed like she had a perfect relationship with her parents. 

“It's good sometimes… It can be difficult other times- like anyone else’s relationship.” Tamara said, glancing at him through the corner of her eyes like she was desperately trying to gauge his reaction. She swallowed tensely, her hands balling into fists before relaxing. Her following answer was something she had learned to say after too much truth spilled out. Call recognized the half-truth- Jasper had been full of them. “I’m lucky to have parents on the council. They’ve given me a head start in life.”

Her explanation was like everything else she said, proud, dignified, but this time there seemed to be something else layered in her words. With the way Tamara’s words trailed off, Call couldn’t help but hear the last unsaid part of her statement: ‘ And taken a normal, happy childhood from me ’. He blinked at her, really seeing Tamara for the first time in what felt like years. 

“They’re the reason you want to win so badly, huh? My dad has like zero expectations for me. I can’t imagine what it must feel like to have such heavy expectations hanging over my head constantly.” Call sighed, crossing his arms behind his head as a single drop of rain splattered on his nose. He saw lightning flash behind the wall of clouds, thunder following after like a promise of precipitation. “Must be tough.”

“It is! With Ravan gone, everything just falls to me! Kimiya just wants to get her ‘M R S’ and I-” Tamara paused mid-outburst, like she remembered she was supposed to be performing her role as the perfect daughter and clenched her mouth shut, her fists balling up again. She looked down at her feet as rain droplets began to patter down around her. Looking at her lonely silhouette, the only thing Call could think of was how little he knew. How little he knew about Tamara, her family, her feelings . “I have to carry the family legacy.”

Call had wondered for so long why she always felt so angry, but he had never taken the time to ask her why. Why she was so irritated all the time, why she clung to Aaron so desperately. Tamara had more of a family than Call did, she had grown up rich and privileged in ways he could never imagine. He stared at her awkwardly for a second before pressing close to her side, trying hard to see her expression even as rain streamed down her cheeks, like tears she would never allow herself to cry. 

“I didn’t know you had two sisters.” He whispered, at a complete loss for everything. 

“I don’t.” She murmured, her words nearly lost in the sound of droplets thrumming against the ground. “I haven’t- not for the past eight years.” 

She shivered then, her thin fingers trembling and Call finally remembered they needed to find shelter before she got sick. Leaving the foreboding statement behind, he locked his fingers around her wrist and pulled them towards the nearest vacant building he could find. It wasn’t one of the skyscrapers like he was hoping for, but this region had no lack of abandoned structures. After sitting her down he realised they had entered what looked to be an empty convenience store. He wasn’t sure what exactly had occurred to this post-apocalyptic version of earth, but apparently robbers hadn’t been prevalent; the shelves were still stocked with all sorts of things. He grabbed a roll of paper towel before returning to Tamara. She had sat down behind the register counter, her knees drawn up to her chin. 

She had already started a campfire- most likely from her magic. Call plopped down beside her, handing her the roll so she could dry off first. The rain pounded against the walls of the cement building, making him briefly consider the integrity of the structure. 

“Want some fish?” He asked, as Tamara began to release her braids allowing her dark hair to fall freely. She patted her arms and face dry before taking the offered fish tentatively. Call took an aggressive bite of his own, crunching on what he could only assume was fish ribs.

“It tastes better if you season it, you know? I don’t know how you’re eating it without anything.” She said, pulling a mysterious shaker out from one of her pockets and sprinkling a generous amount onto her fish. 

Call thinned his lips, taking it from her almost as soon as she set it down. 

“I didn’t know you brought this-” Call shook it carefully over his fish, took a bite and then sprinkled more into his open mouth until Tamara snatched it back. After swallowing, he wiped his mouth and gave her a sheepish smile, still on his best behaviour. “That's really good, what's in it? Did you make it?”

“I only have so much, don’t use it all on one meal!” She chastised, setting it on her other side, just out of his reach. “It's just some crushed saffron, salt, pepper, and turmeric. I always have some on me. Ravan was the one who started at first; she went on missions and trials a lot.”

“So she’s not around, much anymore, or-” Call paused, his fish suddenly leathery and unappetizing between his teeth. How exactly could he go about gently asking if her sister was dead ? Maybe it wasn’t something he should ask about at all. 

“She’s not dead, Call. She just left us. I remember the fight like it was yesterday.” Tamara took a small bite of her fish, the fire reflecting off her dark eyes. It was surprising to see such vivid anger painted on her face despite the fact it had all gone down so many years ago. She had held onto that anger for so long, she had learned to live with it. And now it bled into all her other feelings and emotions, like poison spreading through the roots of a tree. “Ravan chose to forsake Ecclesia and her own family just so she could run around chasing her own ideas.”

Tamara paused, orange light flickering off her face like the gruesome scarring of hate. She hated the person she was recounting- she hated her sister. But Call was hearing another tale. He was hearing the story of Master Tanaka again; the story of someone trying to escape from the church only to suddenly ‘disappear’. No one would have ever picked that fate out for themself. 

“She had been brainwashed by Constantine, Call. He had been her upperclassman at school, and he had pitted her against us!” Tamara explained no longer eating. Call knew when she said ‘us’ she wasn’t referring to her family then, but to the Church. “She chose to follow after him instead of stay with us- with me. That's why I never mention her; she’s not worth remembering.”

Maybe Constantine did have some odd part in the story, but there was no way he was guilty of every single sob story Ecclesia had to offer. Especially when this one sounded so close to the one Call had just heard. Tamara had to know the truth. She deserved it, as did her sister’s memory. 

“Last night Aaron and I went into the Necromancy Laboratory. We just kind of stumbled into it- I’m not sure, but I think someone was calling me in there.” Call began, anticipating the girl’s questions as they usually came. He didn’t really want to talk about this, but he didn’t think he’d have the strength to bring it up at any other time. And he knew more than anyone, Tamara needed to hear the truth of her precious church. “It was in a lot of disarray, but we managed to find Master Tanaka locked down there.”

Tamara didn’t say a word to interrupt his recounting. Usually Call would have thought she might be afraid to interrupt him after he had finally gotten started, but not this time. This time he could see her eyes quivering as they stared into the darkness behind him, the subtle tremble of her hands, the sweat that had beaded at her brow- these were signs of a greater fear. Tamara was afraid to hear the truth.

“They- the church had turned him into a vampire because he disobeyed them, Tamara-”

“I told you about my family because I thought if I made the first step in trusting- no, in respecting you you would find it in yourself to respect me too.” Tamara stared directly at him then, the anger that had flamed in her eyes replaced by a deep sadness. Despite usually raising her voice in the midst of her heightened emotions, Call felt like he had to strain to hear her words now. “Of course you still have to be talking about how evil Ecclesia is. You can’t just say you're sorry to hear that my family is broken or anything even remotely kind.”

“That's because they are, Tamara! The reason why Aaron was so out of it was because he had to watch Master Tanaka die, like actually die-” Call swallowed down his own anger at the situation, feeling powerless before her apathetic gaze. Looking at Tamara curled up there before the dying embers of their fire, he felt as if she was getting farther away from him. Like he was grabbing at the remnants of a shadow. “I’m not Aaron, I don’t know the nice thing to say, but I won’t lie to you like he did either.”

Why didn’t she understand? She knew everything now. Why didn’t she want to understand?

“You should leave, Call.” Tamara whispered, no longer looking in his direction. Call felt his fists ball up by his sides, his eyes narrowing as incredulity replaced his sympathy. “I don’t want to fight with you anymore. Please .”

He stared at her unassuming form, small and shadowed like a lost child. And so painfully lonely. Call knew that feeling. Leaving their makeshift shelter, he felt it in the icy raindrops that pelted his skin- in the whistling wind that threatened to rip his head from his neck. He felt it in the pit of his soul.

They would never understand each other. 

Chapter Text

Call felt like he had been walking for hours yet the night and storm raged on, relentless and angry like he’d never seen it. Maybe it was because this was an artificial night but it brought no comfort to him, maybe he just couldn’t think straight; it was hard when he recalled the look in Tamara’s eyes: the apathy, the disappointment . Call wasn’t sure if anything could comfort him, maybe a warm towel was a place to start, but his feet wouldn’t stop. He had expected Tamara to have a difficult time understanding that information, but that didn’t make getting kicked out feel any easier. Sometimes you have to hear upsetting things for the betterment of everything, of everyone.

Why didn’t she understand he was trying to help her?

And then like a knife cutting through the veil of a maelstrom, a sharp sound cut through the air. Call initially thought it might be the sound of a bird, but it was shrill and undeniably human. It could have been a trap, maybe it was simply the sounds of another student engaging in battle. Either way it didn’t matter to him, it was a sign to Call. Another chance to save someone who actually wanted to be saved. 

Without further thought on the matter, he dashed towards the sound passing by rock and building in a watery blur. He only stopped after he had descended into the beginnings of a forest, his cursed eyes searching for the person who had made such a terrifying sound. 

It was pitch black under the cover of trees. Dark branches reached toward his bare arms, wicked and sharp. Had he been wearing any loose fitting clothes, it would have been torn to shreds. Not a single drop of rain could make it past the dark, thick foliage above him. Under the cover of trees the sky seemed a terrible black, the pulsing of droplets beating against the ceiling of leaves like a frightened heart. Stepping forward, Call found his feet submerged up to his ankles in some unknown liquid. Even though no rain could reach the forest floor, the underbrush wasn’t any more dry. At first he thought it was a harmless pond he had stepped into, then the coppery smell hit him and he knew the warm liquid pooling around his ankles had to be fresh.

With fear driving his motions, Call stared upwards looking for a source, and finally picked out the bodies- the human bodies that had been strung up in trees. Somehow, he had overlooked them in his haste but he would never unsee them now. They were everywhere, swinging to a breeze Call couldn’t feel, swaying to the lament of their deaths.

Dead? Were they dead? He had heard a scream, or had he hallucinated it?

“Where are you?!” Call shouted into the darkness, suddenly wishing his dark vision didn’t allow him to see half the gore he was witnessing. There was no way he was looking at the bodies of his fellow classmates, right? This was just another part of the test- Master North had clearly said none of the monsters would make lethal attacks.  “Call out to me so I can find you!”

Call heard the person squeak in pain before he saw something large and dark flash before his eyes. It had moved too fast for him to see, but he knew the victim was being carried by whatever was responsible for the forest of bodies. It had to be a creature that liked playing with its foes- a creature that shouldn’t have been within a highschool test trial.

Before he could think further on that thought, hot breath was at his back. He spun around, staring into the darkness to look directly in the golden, bulging eyes of a face. It was no human face- it was much too big and with way too many flailing limbs. The stench of rotting flesh was like a physical thing, burning his nostrils and eyes and before Call knew it, he had been swept up.

Finally in view of the monster, he was able to realise it had eight of these long, sinewy arms, and eyes that swirled around in his head like they had never been properly fixed into their sockets. 

“Help, please you’ve got to help me!” The girl shouted and Call belatedly remembered the whole reason he had been drawn into the forest: someone had screamed. The source of the voice was grasped tightly between one of its too-many hands, her face red like the life was being squeezed out of her. It was Celia, one of his fellow junior-year classmates.

Call wiggled a bit, the pressure of the hands increasing as the human head began to ogle him, its twisted lips curving up into a smile as he struggled. It would be possible for him to snap the fingers of the hand holding him if he pushed hard enough, but with his classmate nearby he didn’t want to accidentally risk his identity either. 

He had to get the monster to drop him. 

“Have you got any fire? Or like, bombs, or-” Call bit his own tongue as the monster squeezed hard enough to make his ribcage feel like it was going to pop, and glared directly into its eyes. If this truly was a creature from his hoards, it would have to yield to his commands; if it was just another of Ecclesia’s artificial monsters it wouldn’t. From the moment he had set foot in this forest, he had an inkling one of his own was here. He wasn’t sure whether it was the wisp of one of Constantine’s memories or the connection of their cursed souls, but he knew his intuition wasn’t wrong. 

The next second, the monster’s rolling eyeballs froze along with its erratic motions; it was held captive by Call’s stare, like a servant called to heel.  

The creature dropped him almost as soon as it had grabbed him, its maw widening in a cry as it acknowledged its own mistake. In its distress, a clap of thunder rumbled across the sky, shaking the trees and illuminating the sky in a show of lightning. Only a few specks of light were able to cut through to the forest floor, but it was enough. The monster was illuminated completely for a few, horrifying seconds. In the light, Call could see the poorly stitched pieces of skin that had been sewn together to make up its face, like the monster was nothing more than a poorly mended puppet. When he saw its sharp, jagged teeth poke out at him- despite all its disgusting and terrible features, Call felt an undeniable sense of pity. This creature was no different than Beelzebub, no different than Tanaka. !!!

“I don’t- I can’t cast like this!” Celia finally responded, and part of Call jolted back to the present. No matter what had happened, this creature had attacked human students… But if it had been purposefully placed here, did that truly leave it at fault? 

“Who did this to you?” Call shouted, his heart sinking in his chest as he pulled his scimitar from the leather sheath around his waist. He didn’t want to hurt any more of his kind, nor any more of his subjects. Hadn’t there been enough unnecessary death?

The creature gurgled at him pathetically, swinging its fists like a child throwing a tantrum. It only took Call a painful moment to realise why: the tongue of this monstrosity had been deliberately cut out. If his previous supposition was correct, someone had sent this creature into their test after removing its tongue. 

There could only be one reason for such a cruel perversion of a creature: they had to know he was Dracula. It had to be the mole, taunting him and his kind. But if the mole was able to place a monster in a fixed trial, what did that make them? A mere student didn’t have that kind of authority or power.  

“Can you not see the monster holding me right now? It's going to suck me dry!” The girl shouted, and Call almost rolled his eyes. She was being dramatic; the monster wouldn’t act while they were in the midst of a conversation. Had this been an artificial creature, it would have; but this was one of his own. What would the teachers’ and recruiters’ think, watching this? They would be at a loss. They didn’t know he was Dracula, they didn’t know about the injustice that had been forced upon this creature. 

The church was forcing him to take a life, just as they forced Magnus to. What didn’t Tamara understand?

“I’ll save you,” Call said, clenching his scimitar in his hand. It felt heavy, heavier than it had ever felt, like it already carried the weight of a life. No, it was his guilt that weighed his weapon down. The guilt of the unworthy, the strong picking off the weak. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Sure, take your time!” Celia replied somewhat sarcastically again, unaware of the fact that none of Call’s words had been for her ears. For a second, it felt like his dead heart ached. Maybe Constantine had been right to lock himself away in his castle; he had already lost his brother, he had just been trying to protect what he had left. 

Unlike the succubus Call had encountered, this monster listened and obeyed his every command. That only made his steps weigh heavier. He leapt onto the creature’s head with ease and placed his hand on its skull. It was trembling beneath his touch, like it knew its death was imminent and yet refused to believe its Master would be so cruel. Call wished it would fight back, that it would run- anything . Most of the other monsters did, why didn’t this one? 

“What's going on? I can’t see anything through this darkness, but I’m not moving anymore am I-?” With a solid motion, Call brought the scimitar down on the creature’s head, using enough force to make sure he would kill it in a single motion. He had been practising controlling his strength for a while now, it wasn’t difficult. Red- seemingly human blood sprayed up at him like a bursted pipe, covering his face and uniform in a disgusting spattering of colour. When he heard the creature gurgle sadly one last time, he felt his dinner crawl back up his throat. 

“You’re free,” Call said, prying the dead creature’s fingers open. He shouldn’t feel anything. He hadn’t felt anything killing other monsters so it didn’t make sense for him to feel anything now. So why did things seem so different this time? “You should cut down your friends from the trees. See who needs help-”

“Call, you saved me! How did you do it?” She exclaimed, tapping him on the shoulder and then withdrawing when she noticed how much gore he was covered in. He hated the false familiarity Celia pretended to share with him- it was sickening, but the real reason he hated it so much was that it reminded him of the church. “You’re my hero! Thank you, thank you, thank you-”

“Your friends need you,” Call said dully, watching the rivulets of blood travel down the stones. When the monster's blood combined with the humans, it was almost impossible to differentiate. They were one and the same- all of them were victims together. “Cut them down.”

“Oh, right,” Celia said, her blonde curls tinged red where some of the splatter had hit her. Call turned away, but he didn’t get far. She latched onto his forearm, her touch uncomfortably warm. When he looked back at her darkly, she immediately let go, like he had burned her with his eyes alone. “Oh, uh sorry, you- you’re not going to leave me here, are you?” 

No part of him wanted to stay back by her side. Call knew it was stupid, he knew feelings were volatile and ever changing, but for some reason he couldn’t help but want to place the blame of the creature’s death on her. If she hadn’t been here, then maybe- maybe he could have spared its life. 

“I killed the monster, didn’t I? What else are you afraid of?” Call asked, the annoyance bleeding into his tone. Celia looked taken aback, but she didn’t let go of him. She looked down at her feet, like a scolded child.

“There are so many people to cut down, could you at least help me with that?”

Without responding, Call turned and began sawing at the bodies. Despite his usual, blood-hungry nature he didn’t feel anything cutting these people down. For once since becoming a vampire, the smell of blood made him want to vomit. Once he had managed to get someone down, he began cutting away at the cocoon. Surprisingly enough, the webbing did in fact reveal a familiar face: Kai stared up at him, his eyes wide open and lips blue. Call knew for a fact he wasn’t dead or undead for that matter- he was in an in-between state, likely poisoned. 

It turned out they were all like that; poisoned but not dead. It didn’t change Call’s thoughts on the matter at all. Even if none of the students were dead, one of Dracula’s monsters shouldn’t have been in the trial. No antidote or magic could heal whatever sickened them, they needed to go to the infirmary.

The forest was still dark by the time they managed to cut every person down. There were twelve of them in total- a small number considering the total number of students, but still terrifying to behold in person. Call and Celia had lined up their bodies, each of their faces frozen in perfect fear, their skin porcelain white like stone statues. 

“You… You seemed different last year.” Celia randomly began, like they had been close friends the previous semester. Call raised a sharp eyebrow, his shoulders hunched over as he continued to stare forward at the darkness. “I’m sorry if I annoyed you, I just got so scared! I studied a lot of monsters before this, but I never imagined they’d make us fight the Puppet Master!”

“It's not you,” He sighed, looking back over his shoulder towards the monster’s remains. He hadn’t even known its name, until a random congregant of Ecclesia had enlightened him. He was pathetic, but more than that he was angry. How dare the mole pit his own people against him: first the succubus, now the Puppet Master? Call had never hungered for blood, in fact he felt put off by human violence most times. But whoever was taunting him was begging for it; whoever this mysterious, evil person was, Call would make sure they got a taste of their own brutal medicine. He hoped they’d choke on it. 

“Hey,” Celia said, putting her hand over his. Call flinched hard at the touch, nearly scooting away. Somehow, she had a very low presence threshold. Whenever he turned away from her, it was like she disappeared. “You were making a pretty scary expression. Everything’ll be okay, alright?”

Call looked towards her, his silver eyes never really seeing her. 

“You’re wrong.” He said, his voice devoid of animosity. “This is just the beginning.”

The first trial ended in exactly two days, but to Call it had felt like years had passed. His head felt so full of too many things- too many conflicting emotions and thoughts. Once they were out, those who were too injured to stay were whisked away to the infirmary while the rest crowded around in groups. Call didn’t see Tamara, Aaron, or Jasper with all of the bustling. He only saw Aaron’s name at the top of the scoreboard and then he looked away, overwhelmed by noise and pushing. There were adults all around too- teachers, parents, some unfamiliar people he could only assume were collegium recruiters. Everyone seemed to be happy, the sound of laughter rang out followed by the proud, raised voices of parents. 

Call wished his dad was there. Alastair had never been good at comforting him, but he was good at just being there. And right now that was all Call needeed.

“How was the trial?” A voice suddenly asked from behind and Call turned to find Magnus of all people giving him a soft smile. He tilted his chin upwards, before clicking his tongue and shaking his head. “The church expects too much out of you poor students. You look like you haven't eaten these last two days.”

“Why do you care?” Call asked defensively, pulling away from the man. He imagined Magnus widened his eyes behind those too large glasses, his gloved hand pulling away slowly as if Call’s vehement distaste was only a small hindrance. “What do you want?”

“I simply wanted to congratulate you. Both you and your father showed me much kindness coming here. I only want to pay it back, Callum.” Magnus said, bowing his head for a moment before holding out his arm. “Does ice cream sound adequate?”

Ice cream? With Magnus the murderer ? Call sighed, glancing behind himself forlornly. He could pick out Aaron and Tamara now- there was a circle that had formed around them. A particularly tall man stood near to Tamara, with similarly intense eyes and a straight back; it was impossible to not relate them: it had to be her father- the one guilty of brainwashing her. And there was Aaron, laughing beside her, the darkness in his green eyes gone. All of his previous resentment seemed to have been washed away. 

Maybe that was what first place did to you, or maybe Aaron was faking it like he often did. Or perhaps, Tamara had been the one to bring that smile to his face.

Call felt a knife of jealousy cut through him suddenly, ugly and so foreign he felt whiplash. He turned away then, shoving past Magnus’s outstretched arm.

“You’re paying.”

Chapter Text

Magnus apparently stashed ice cream away in his quarters. Call hadn’t thought much of it till they scaled half of the Order just to see his tiny, unfurnished room. It was the size of a shed, with no windows and nothing but a fridge, couch, and bed. Call didn’t know what shocked him more: the disparity between the quality of their rooms, or the contents of his fridge. 

When Magnus said he liked sweets, he really meant it. Everything in his fridge had sugar in it. There was soda, cake, and pastries lining the shelves of his mini refrigerator, and his freezer was no better. Aside from the three tubs of different flavoured ice cream, he had two full-size coconut cream pies and enough waffles to build a mini-sized waffle-house from.

“Cone or cup?” Magnus asked conversationally as Call stared rudely from the doorway. There was no way in hell he was going to step into Magnus’s room. He already felt weird enough seeing where the clergyman lived, anything more was practically taboo.

“Cone and I want chocolate. And fruity pebbles on top.” Call said, sagging against the doorway. While he was weird, Magnus wasn’t exactly the most threatening. Sure Call had seen him in the Necromancy Lab, which should have been suspicious, but since Magnus had been eradicating the place, Call had given him a pass. Good deeds shouldn’t be too heavily questioned, right? Not that eradication had been the right choice… He was still tripped up on that. “Hey, why’d you end up leaving my dad? Weren’t you supposed to be following him for like, half a year or whatever?”

Magnus paused mid scoop to sigh somewhat dejectedly before plopping it sadly on the cone. 

“Your father is quite the wily man, Callum.” Magnus said, approaching him with two cones in his hands. He gave the chocolate one to Call and proceeded to take a bite of his own, bright blue ice cream. It appeared to be ‘birthday-cake’ flavoured, with tiny flecks of coloured sprinkles dotted around. The exciting ice cream contrasted with the clergyman’s austere, solemn demeanor. Call was pretty sure his fruity pebble covered cone didn't exactly go with his bloody tank top though, either. Appearances could be deceiving, it was a lesson as old as time. “I didn’t mean to lose him, but he did in fact best me. The church was not happy to hear of that, I assure you.”

“So did you take out the Necromancy Lab because of that, then?” Call asked, and Magnus tensed up like there were ears everywhere in the hallway. There were only elementals, not that Call really even knew what those were. Could elementals talk?

“No, there are some things one has to do regardless of their beliefs.” Magnus paused, stopping in the middle of the hallway to clench a fist near his heart. “The church is guilty of many crimes, but those sins need not be on the backs of the excommunicated. I firmly believe that.”

“What if the church finds out? Won’t you be the next one who gets- who becomes a victim?” Call looked down at his feet, his emotions in a mess again. Not even the taste of his favourite dessert could erase it. 

“I left no evidence behind.” Magnus said, smiling proudly. It was the first time Call had seen that emotion on his face. For someone who seemed so out of place, it actually turned out he was pretty skilled. Well, not skilled enough to outwit Alastair, but Call would give him some credit.

In the least he used his power for good.

With narrowed eyes, Call took a large bite out of his cone. “I can’t tell if you’re dumb or if you're smart.”

“I can’t tell if you despise me or if you're secretly fond of me.” Magnus laughed before freezing and slipping behind an open door. It was the entrance to the communal kitchen. At this moment, they were in the residential hallway for teachers, which meant they didn’t need to hide, but Call followed his movements anyway, looking ahead with seeking eyes.

It only took a moment for the raised voices to carry, the anger practically echoing down the hall.

“William, I am aware the trial was tampered with! Every active board member is aware!” Master North shouted, anger a terrifying thing in his usually placid, dry voice. “The students are the only ones who remain ignorant of this.”

“And it is the students who risk their lives,” Rufus said, his usually passive voice dropping low. When he was angry, he didn’t raise his voice, he lowered it, making the already tall man seem even more imposing. “The second trial must be cancelled. It cannot, under any circumstance, go on.”

“The Cardinal, despite being aware, has not issued anything.” Master North said, the fight leaving his voice. Without the emotion present, he sounded empty, like a soulless puppet that was speaking on behalf of its master. Ignorance had Call believing he was the one responsible for the coliseum; turned out, Graves was the one pulling all the strings. “You know how much money the church gets for hosting these trials each year. This untested technology and magic has finally enabled us to get close to understanding and replicating Dracula’s power. You must remember the bigger picture, Rufus.” 

Call turned to look at Magnus with wide eyes, and the clergyman only lowered his head in shame, his dark hair falling over his glasses. This was new information to him too.

“The education of the future generation has always been my priority, not whatever madness this is.” Rufus seethed. Call slunk back, nearly bumping into Magnus as he hastily moved out of view. Neither teacher paid attention to the darkened kitchen. Call could have banged a few pots and pans and they probably still would have passed with how engrossed they were in their conversation. Because it was a failed “As Aaron’s legal guardian I have the right to-”

“Do not make a martyr of yourself, Rufus. Edgar already has done that. The Belmont needs at least one guardian.” Master North said.

‘The Belmont’? That had been the exact way Joseph had addressed Aaron too- not as a singular person, but as his surname; as a collective sacrifice. Call lurched forward, ready to defend Rufus, only to feel Magnus pull him back down with a strong hand. He shook his head, placing a finger to his lips. 

“You are not the same man I knew,” Rufus whispered, and Call could feel the chill emanating from his words. But it wasn’t just cold, there was frustration, anger, and resignation there too. Rufus wanted to stop the church, but he couldn’t. Not if he didn’t want to end up like Master Tanaka.

Call listened keenly until the shuffling of steps finally gave way to silence and fell to his bottom, the weight of the information finally bringing him to his knees. He didn’t get a moment to digest anything as Magnus swept toward him, turning his face left and right like he was searching for something.

“The trial was tampered with? Why didn’t you say anything, you silly child? Are you injured-” Call swatted the man’s hands away uncomfortably and glared. If he wasn’t still holding his quickly melting ice cream, he would have crossed his arms. 

“I’m fine, don’t touch me.” Magnus did pull away then, looking a little embarrassed and awkward, like he hadn’t meant to be so outwardly worried. Being weird and awkward made most interactions with him pretty odd, but it wasn't bad. 

Despite living as neighbors for the past few months, Call hadn't realised how similar they were until last week. The Necromancy Laboratory had opened his eyes to many things.

“We need to get you back to your room so you can rest up,” Magnus said, rising to his feet in a quick, easy motion. He pulled Call up too despite his previous statement. “Your clothes are ruined too. Please, do tell me-”

“It's not my blood,” Call interjected, knowing the question before it was even properly asked. “And you don't need to take me anywhere. I'm fine going on my own.”

Call didn't wait around for his answer, he turned around and left; too many thoughts swirling around in his head and far too little time to process them all.

When Aaron made it back to his room, he felt like an old, used sock. He could smell blood and gore on his skin, his body ached, and the corners of his mouth felt like they were going to fall off if he offered one more smile at someone. As soon as he closed the door behind himself, he sank to his knees and just sat for a moment, willing the remainder of torment to waft away, like a bad smell. 

The scars on his skin wouldn’t waft away, neither would the weight of his burdens.

He had expected a lot of different things from the first trial, of all his expectations the one thing he could confirm he had, was a crushing exhaustion that seemed to weigh on his eyelids; on his heart. The enemies he had fought against had been brutal, and after only the first few hours he had collected a group of other students who followed after him for protection. It had been up to Aaron to take care of all them. Who was he to turn them away? 

By the second day, it was just too many. Belmont or not, he was just one person and the sort of monsters that kept appearing- it was like a never ending nightmare. Fight, rest, and then realise he couldn’t because they were being attacked again. Aaron hadn’t slept a wink these past two days. But it didn't even stop there, coming out of the trial, he had been surrounded by those same leering faces. Only it was worse because Tamara’s dad had been there. Mr. Rajavi had praised Aaron highly every time they met, but it was impossible to miss the cold disappointment he directed at Tamara; it was impossible to not blame himself for that look.

Aaron ran his fingers through his hair, trying to self-soothe before a loud thump interrupted his motions. Call was here in their dorm- he was in the shower. Aaron looked towards the bathroom door and willed the tightness in his chest to disappear. Every time he closed his eyes, the only thing we saw was the cold, dead eyes of Master Tanaka. When he had been alive, his eyes had been a warm brown; when he had died, they had been a deep crimson, nearly soulless. Aaron had watched his soul leave him and done nothing. He had watched him die. 

His face was wet before he even acknowledged he was crying. Tears ran clear streaks through the grime that had collected on his freckled cheeks, dotting his clothes in dark spots. He heard Call knock against something else within their shower and pulled his knees closer to his chest, willing the other boy to stay within the confines of their bathroom. He didn’t want anyone to see him how he was now: tired, broken, and so lonely .

He had been surrounded by so many people during the trial, even afterwards; but the more people gathered, the further away Aaron felt he was. When Tamara’s dad looked at him, he felt like she got further away too. Tamara had told him once that she had never once been jealous of him. Aaron still thought it was the only lie she had ever told him. Instead, he wished she never had to be. He wished her father would love her for who she was, and her strengths. But what could you expect from dads? Aaron had never known his own father to be capable of something like that. 

Before he had a chance to think any further, Call slammed through the bathroom door, his hand outstretched as a dark curl of magic connected him to a terrifying creature. It was an air elemental with sharp spines that flared angrily out of its back like some sort of feral cat, but Aaron knew this was much more dangerous than a cat. Like he was tugging a string, Call pulled his arm back dramatically, pulling the very vital essence from the creature. In a sudden rush of air, it was dispelled leaving a very wet, naked Call squatting before him- naked aside from the towel around his waist; thank god he remembered that. 

Without wasting a moment, the dark haired boy spun around and Aaron just caught sight of a massive laceration on his chest: muscle and tissue had been cut so deeply, the white bone of his rib cage was visible beneath. Then, like an unseamed doll, the skin seemed to pull together, regenerating before his eyes. And all that was left was Call’s smooth, unblemished chest. All Aaron could wonder was a single question: how many times? How many times had the boy in front of him been scarred? His flesh wouldn’t hold the memory, but he was sure his mind did. 

Aaron wanted so desperately to be protected, but it wasn’t like he could protect anyone either. 

“Did you hear me struggling in there? Why didn’t you help-” Call bit off his words, as he seemed to really look at Aaron’s face and then his narrowed eyes softened, the silver suddenly reflecting the gold of their toplight. Call’s voice had completely lost its edge when he spoke again, almost like he was afraid he might scare him. “Well, you know I actually had it under control. Pretty much a walk in the park.”

Call swallowed tensely after his statement, his throat bobbing and eyes flashing to observe the blonde’s reaction. Aaron avoided his gaze, scooting back to create distance between them.

“Are you-”

“I healed up right in front of you, didn't I? But, what about you? I mean- are you good?” Call asked, folding his legs modestly. Aaron would have thought his sudden change in temperament was amusing had he not been crying just a few seconds earlier. Right now, he just felt like a disappointment. “I mean you’re obviously not good , but- but , they say, I mean somebody says, or thinks? It doesn't matter, honestly: crying is good for you. I mean, personally not huge on perpetuating that, I think crying sucks -”

“Call,” Aaron said, revelling in the taste of the other boy’s name in his mouth. He let out a little laugh before he felt a surge of sorrow pull at his eyes, like his tears had been renewed and were once again ready to fall. “You really suck at comforting people.”

“Well, I’m pretty sure that wasn’t on the job description for being, well you know,” Call began, before realising Aaron had started to cry again. Then he turned and leaned over him again, worry clear in his eyes like Aaron had never seen it before. It was rare when he could simply read a direct emotion off of Call’s usually guarded face. “Shit, sorry Aaron. I said the-”

“You don’t have to say anything.” Aaron said, letting his head drop back against his mattress. Call had moved away, but the blonde latched onto his hand before he could fully leave; desperate and needy like a child that had never tasted love. Sometimes he felt that way- like he was still a child no matter how tall he got. “I know this is selfish, but maybe could we just- could we just sit for a little?”

Aaron could never say it outright, he could never say what he truly wanted. It felt too clingy, too demanding. He had been alone long enough to know how to take care of himself. He didn’t need Call to stay, he only wanted him to. 

He wanted to say: ‘ Please, Call. Please don’t leave me ’. But Aaron couldn’t beg, begging didn’t get anyone anywhere. So he closed his eyes, awaiting the other boy’s denial; waiting to feel the cool touch of his skin depart.

“Okay, sure.” Call agreed, easily. He felt their shoulders touch before the vampire relaxed next to him, his dark, inky hair leaving splotches of moisture on his comforter. Aaron stared at his profile, tracing the curve of his nose and then his jaw with tearful eyes. 

Call had shut his own eyes, leaving dark lashes to flutter gracefully against pale skin. Their hands still remained connected even after he had sat, like the other boy hadn’t felt the need to break them apart. Without Call’s heavy gaze on him, the blonde felt his tears begin to drip once again, but it wasn’t just because of Tanaka now. The company meant more to him than he could ever say. 

Call meant more than he could ever say.