𝔈𝔵-𝔐𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰.

Caleb's undead roommate was a problem. The undead were a scourge just as much as the humans were. It didn’t matter that they had to feed on the latter to keep alive, though that part was amusing at least, they were still pretty much scum in their mind. It didn't matter in the end though. Even if they had preferred the blonde to not exist they had no qualms about making her wish the same exact thing once the cover had been blown. 

Playing nice didn’t work out too well when she had walked in on them dragging a body through the door one night. She might have been used to Caleb doing that same thing, Aesil wasn’t sure, but she certainly wasn’t used to seeing the torture that Aesil had committed upon the human who was still breathing by some miracle act of nature. They had to take care of that quickly and ended up locking her in the room that the zombie had provided for her so they could think about what to do. A slow torture was a favorite go to of theirs and so the demon kept doing small things here and there to make her life a living hell.

Starving her had been their latest endeavor. They had never witnessed what would happen to a vampire if they didn’t eat so they’d locked the jars of blood away in the basement for good and let her go for weeks at this point. That, along with the other atrocities they had committed against her, was enough to drive her mad, they thought. Yet, the best part was still to come.

The jars downstairs indicated that the useless zombie had been getting her blood the humane way. Which had to mean that they were trying to keep her from hurting people. Starvation mixed with the sudden appearance of a human would make for fun results. “It’s okay, darling. There’s nothing to be afraid of.” They whispered the words into the terrified girl’s ear as they led her towards Mercy’s room. She was shaking like a leaf, the false hope that Aesil was trying to provide, not doing anything to calm her fears. “It’s going to be over pretty quickly, I’m certain of it.” That drew tears from her eyes which only made Aesil roll their own as they came up to Mercy’s door. “Wench, I have a surprise for you!”

It was gradual, the way Mercy had noticed Caleb was starting to change. The man who had been so kind to her and had given her the small dragon trinket was easily starting to shift in his demeanor, and it was something the vampire had taken note of. So much so that she had started to tread lightly around him; a feeling of comfort she once had slowly starting to fade away. But the night she watched him drag someone through the door who was worse for wear, Mercy knew that something was seriously off.

Unfortunately for her, it was also the night that things had changed for her too, and not for the better. It was small at first. The way Caleb would do little things to annoy her which later led to bigger things that could actually harm her. At first she had assumed it was just an accident. Maybe the material covering the windows had slipped, allowing light in, or he had forgotten to bring up a jar of blood for her. But soon the little things became bigger things that she knew had been intentional. And by the end of it, Mercy had found herself unable to leave her room, and even worse, without food.

The first day she was locked up left a certain small worry lingering just below the surface. She had managed to feed on some squirrels she had found in Caleb’s yard. Not thinking of anything out of the ordinary. Sure, she didn’t have access to the human’s blood, but it was okay. She’d managed. She had done it before in the past. But by day three, when Caleb hadn’t unlocked the door, Mercy was becoming more concerned, “Caleb. Are you there? I need to get out of this room. I must find food. Please. If you are afraid I may hurt someone, I promise, I will not. I swear it.” But when she didn’t get a reply, Mercy had settled back onto her bed.

By day seven, the vampire had found that the worry that had lingered in the pit of her stomach was now leading into a full blown panic attack. She could feel her body growing weaker, and in doing so, she could feel her mind starting to shift into a place it hadn’t been in a very long time. A place she didn’t want to go back to, but without food, she knew there would be no other option. It wasn’t until she had found a nest of spiders crawling around in the corner of her room under a floorboard, that Mercy had decided to pick them off one by one day after day, but not without having a full blown conversation and apologizing profusely to them, before she would pop one in her mouth and chew getting very little from the arachnid.

By week two, Mercy, though not nailed through the heart and stuck in a small, pine box underground, was going stir crazy. Anytime the sun would shine, she would be forced to walk along the outer edge of the room or squat in a corner, until it grew later in the day; all at the hand of Caleb, after the blackout curtains had been removed from the window in her room. And though she would occasionally get brave and try to cross the path of the sunlight, she would immediately feel the sting of her skin, which resulted in her hissing and scurrying back into what little bit of shadow she had. But this had also resulted in her hunger pangs worsening as her body tried to heal itself, but couldn’t.

By the time Mercy had heard from Caleb again, she was covered in open, non healing wounds. Her speech had been limited and anytime she did say words, it was usually a garbled mess of olde English that even the most well versed scholar probably wouldn’t be able to understand. She did, however, raise her head up and peer through the darkness of the room with red eyes, and with a hiss, she stayed huddled near a wall daring not to come near the man if he opened the door only sniffing the air, which was starting to smell sweet, like lavender and honey.

Aesil listened for her reply with rapt ears, so much so that they almost placed an ear against the door she was trapped behind. They had heard small noises throughout the first couple of days, let her voice drift through the house and away without so much as a second thought when she’d called out for food, grinned at the panicked shuffling of her feet as more and more time passed but now the demon could hear nothing coming from the other side. Whether that was due to Caleb’s poor hearing or the growing whine of the human they had a firm grip on they couldn’t say. 

With a disapproving stare at the girl waiting for certain death, they moved their hand up to the back of her long hair and gripped a fistful before yanking. Her head snapped back, giving better access to her neck and Aesil pressed a finger to her lips as she whimpered. “None of that. Don’t you want to die with dignity?” The tears finally fell from her eyes as a sob escaped her lips at those words. “Apparently not…” Disgust tugged at Aesil’s insides. Andras was right about these creatures. They didn’t deserve to live if they wouldn’t fight for it with every part of their being. They were vile, disgusting things that took so much for granted, especially their safety. Their humanity made them far too weak to be so dominant on this plane. 

“I should have chosen a feisty one.” The words were said under their breath as they unlocked the door and pushed it open. But the human was almost forgotten when their eyes landed on Mercy cowering in a corner. She was covered in sores, most likely from the ripped fabric that now barely covered the windows, mumbling to herself. The lack of blood must have been making her delirious. Aesil grinned at the sight. 

“Little monster, you look awful. Peckish, are we?” They yanked the girl by her hair and pulled her into the room next to them, her sobs growing with the pain. “Luckily I have a fix for that.” They wanted to see this blonde thing currently fighting for her life tear this scared doe of a woman apart. They wanted to bask in the screams of this woman who had the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. They wanted to watch as her skin paled more and more, the blood draining from her minute by minute as the starving vampire gorged herself.

And then they wanted to watch the vampire break.

Because if this moment had proved anything to the demon it was that the undead were just as vulnerable as the human scum that walked the earth. Mercy had once been just like the woman standing there with her neck on display only now she had a few extra gifts. Those gifts were nothing if someone knew exactly how to weaken them and that humanity might ebb away over the years but it was still there lying in wait, wasn’t it? She would prove as much, even after becoming the animal she feared. They were certain. “She smells…heavenly, doesn’t she?”

Somewhere deep deep down in the darkest parts of her heart lay a scared woman, who feared what would happen if anyone dare approach her, but it could no longer overpower the bloodthirsty and starving creature that was clearly apparent by the redness of her wide and curious eyes; the only thing that could be seen. Days upon days upon weeks of being locked up had left Mercy stir crazy, and a room that once held light via the magic pulsating through the walls had been ripped and shattered by the hands of a woman who was slowly going insane.

But now, this great temptation lay just across the room. Just at her paling fingertips. The human’s cries only pulling Mercy closer to ripping her throat out, more than steering her away. There was no sense of the kind and goodly soul left. At least not in this state. No, she was the monster, she had been forced into many, many years prior.

At the sounds of Aesil’s voice, Mercy was lured forward. And with her head cocked to the side in animal-like curiosity, she slowly began to crawl out of the shadows with nothing, but the light from the hallway cascading into what looked to be a destroyed room. Her nose was raised to the air as she weaved back and forth in a fluid motion, much like that of a snake slowly coming forward to claim its next meal. Her movements were methodical and unrecognizable of someone who was usually so well mannered and kind. But she didn’t want to scare the woman anymore than she had to. And she damn sure didn’t want to have Aesil punish her for lunging too quickly.

Instead, when she had finally crawled close enough, she let her body slowly move upwards inhaling the scent of the woman once again; even stronger this time as her ears picked up on the pounding heartbeat pumping fresh blood at a record pace through the living woman’s form. And when she had reached her neck, Mercy was now standing at her full height, her fangs bared as she looked between the sobbing human and Aesil as if waiting for permission to strike.

They watched her scuttle across the floor towards them, the demon feeling that anticipation, that excitement with each step she took. This…this was the feeling that Caleb had when they tried to fight Aesil through each murder. This was what ran through their shared mind as each stab of that blade was being made. The deliciousness of it coated the zombie’s disgust each and every time. Excitement, anticipation, he wanted it to happen. He wanted to be able to do all of this with no hesitation. But he was gone now, pushed back into the darkest recesses their dead brain carried. A sheepish whisper that Aesil barely noticed anymore. They were under no delusion that he was completely wiped out of his own mind which was even better in the long run. He got to experience it all now, see everything that was happening, but not get in the way as Aesil did their thing. 

She was on them now, a feral creature scoping out her prey. Aesil could feel a buzz starting to roll through their body as she sniffed at the girl. Any second now. At any moment Mercy was going to lunge and completely destroy this woman.

But it didn’t come. Instead, the blonde looked to Aesil as if she needed permission. It told him that they hadn’t waited long enough for her to completely lose herself and that was on them. Not that he wouldn’t put any blame on her either. Their eyes burned, the blue of them darkening slowly as anger replaced the excitement that they had just started to like.

“You don’t need me to tell you what to do.” Disappointment laced their words, Aesil’s dissatisfaction at the lack of haste perfectly clear. Some part of them wanted to be happy that she was submitting to them, willing to ask permission even though she was clearly ready to sink her fangs into the girl's flesh. But a stronger part of them craved that carnage that came with a rabid vampire. Caleb’s features screwed up with anger as it flowed through Aesil, a hard glare being sent the blonde’s way. They should have known. Once a wretch, always a wretch. “Tear her apart, wench.” 

They jerked the human’s head back more, a grunt leaving her lips as pain surely radiated down her spine. She was staring at the ceiling but Aesil could still feel that tangible fear rolling off of her in waves even if she couldn’t see what was coming for her stark white neck. “Just leave the head intact.” The zombie still needed to be fed even if his mind was tucked away. 

And there it was. Just. like. that. The permission Mercy needed to consume the meal of the woman standing in front of her. And without further hesitation, the little bit of humanity that was left in Mercy’s eyes disappeared. With fangs showing and hues a piercing red, the small vampire let her tongue slowly drag across the skin of the woman’s neck. It tasted so sweet. As sweet as the scent Mercy had been smelling since Caleb had returned with her. It was like the morning dew on the skin of a fresh picked peach. Juicy and ripe. Ready to be consumed.

Without further hesitation, Mercy opened her mouth as wide as she could and in a downward motion let her sharp canines press into the soft flesh; the smallest bit of blood being drawn out, before the taste of copper filled her entire senses and switched on the carnivore waiting to be released.

A strong pull and Mercy’s mouth was quickly filling with the blood of an innocent woman, but it didn’t matter. The nearly 400 year old woman being brought into a world she currently only knew one thing about was savoring every bit of the essence being drained from the meal in front of her. And with each passing drop of blood, she could feel the restoration of who she once was. Feel the slow return of words, memories, and most importantly her sanity. But because she had been so deprived, she didn’t want to stop. The small, quiet voice of her conscience hadn’t quite pressed its way to the surface yet, so she continued to drink. Continued to take her fill as the woman in her grasp was starting to go slack in the knees.

Everything in that moment was about indulgence in the delicious crimson that filled every inch of her being. Not Caleb. Not feeling guilty for what she was doing or who she was. Not trying to plan an escape route. Simply the glutenany for fresh blood that made her feel whole again.

The anticipation returned as soon as Aesil saw that last shred of humanity slip out of her eyes, the light in them dimming to let the red fully take over. They kept their eyes on the girl’s neck, waiting, watching as Mercy played with her for the sweetest moment. They would never tire of a human’s whimper, of the shocked gasps as pain radiated through them. They knew that Caleb pretended to hate it himself but the demon? They could never get their fill of it. It was what they needed to lighten the sting of their own impatience in bringing the girl here too early. Mercy may be an animal, but she wasn’t the animal they were looking for.

They could feel the pull of the woman’s hair as she started to lose any semblance of energy that remained. There was no doubt that Mercy was going to kill this woman but Aesil wished it had been more gruesome. All they could see was blood trickling down Mercy’s mouth, down the woman’s neck, and again they were disappointed. That carnivore he had been expecting was nothing but a lamb but at least she couldn’t control how much she was taking. That would have been the biggest sting of all. 

The human was gone, slipped away too peacefully for their liking, but Aesil kept holding the body up by her hair. The roots were starting to pull out as their cruel gaze landed on the blonde wretch again. “Well, that was underwhelming.” They yanked the woman’s head to the side and tossed her to the floor, not sparing her a second glance. They would come back to her later. “But it served its purpose. Reminding you of what you are, of who you’ll always be, that was all I needed.” They brought a finger up under her chin, rubbing some of the blood from her skin before bringing it to their own lips. “An animal with no control. Pathetic.” 

With each passing moment, Mercy was starting to feel like herself again, but with that relief also came regret. She was now fully registering just what she had done to the woman now lying limp on the floor, and as much as she wanted to check on her, the vampire knew what the answer was going to be. She also knew that the man standing in front of her was nothing like the man who had helped her the day she returned to the land of the living, and while it had confused her, it had also frightened her. Caleb had been sweet and loving, but this…this was something altogether different, and though she had lost her mind over the past several weeks, she could still remember that he was the initial cause of it, and she didn’t want that.

Mercy's now blue eyes shifted from the dead body on the floor to the man merely a few feet from her. He was tall and intimidating, and she dared not question him out of fear of being locked back up. Instead, she listened to him, his disappointment evident in her lack of maiming the woman’s corpse. And though his words stung deeply, and some innate part of her wanted to lay bare her teeth into his putrid flesh, she didn’t. No, Mercy had other plans. And those plans were to run. Run as far away from what was turning into an absolute and utter nightmare that she had once again been forced into, when all she had wanted was a chance to live out the life she never had the opportunity to.

They could see the panic filling her eyes as she slowly started coming back to earth. Her eyes were flitting between the two of them, Aesil crossing their arms over their chest as they stared back at her. There was a look that they saw quite often these days, one that told them that she wasn’t planning on sticking around, and finally satisfaction started to sink in. They wanted her out of Caleb’s house. They wanted to be free to do what they needed to do without interruption. They wanted her gone. Even so, they were tempted to keep up the facade of keeping her locked away in this now fucked up room just to cause the vampire more worry. 

But they weren’t going to do that. No, the sooner she was gone the better. “Let's get one thing straight, wench. If you stick around, I’m either going to keep you prisoner or I’m going to kill you. There’s no in between, not anymore.” And they wouldn’t tell her that they weren’t actually the man that brought her to stay here. It was more fun to keep her second guessing everything she had learned since coming here. Now Mercy could go out into the world and never trust another soul again without the fear of them turning on her in the back of her mind. Now Caleb would have to live with the knowledge that she was out there afraid and believing that he was a monster even while he was stuck in those dark corners of nothing. 

“I can see that you want to run. It’s the smartest thought you’ve had since I met you. Maybe think twice before you decide to live with someone else again.” The demon’s lips pulled into a smirk before they turned and walked out of the room. The door was left unlocked, their footsteps retreating into the basement to prepare for another harvest, and no remorse filling any corner of their mind…not even from Caleb.

Mercy stood silently; the words spoken to her so harshly ruminating in her brain over and over and over again. She had thought Caleb was a kind man. There was even a part of her that was tempted to stay and see if that man would return, but the threat of death, or worse, being locked away, sent a jolt of fear so violently through her small body that Mercy could feel tears coming into her eyes. No, her only option was to leave. To run. To disappear into the night like she had all those years ago leaving behind her husband and daughter. This town, a town that held her captive for almost 400 years, had given her so much. From a place meant to start over in the late 1600s to a lesson in history and culture that was only just beginning, Mercy knew this wasn’t the end of her story. She knew there was a vast world just beyond the horizon waiting for her, and this time, she was going to take it and make it hers.

Glancing back at the wrecked room one last time, Mercy laid eyes on her broom. It had been a source of protection when she had needed it. The clothes she had come back into the world in, hung neatly in the closet, but their reminder of a life no longer attainable had left her with the hard decision of leaving them behind. And then, she caught sight of the small dragon trinket that Caleb…Goodman Caleb…not this demon of a man…had given her. It represented strength and bravery, and though he had made her life hell and would always leave her scarred, there was still the part of Mercy that had believed the kind soul still lingered somewhere deep, and if she could pray for him and his salvation, she would have. But the best she could do was to take the dragon with her. At least to show him, if he ever came back around, that she still cared.

“Thankee, Goodman Caleb. May your soul find peace.”

Slipping out of the darkened room and giving the woman one last look both grateful for what she had given Mercy and remorseful for the loss of her life, she eased down the hallway. She knew the monster she was living with had offered her freedom, but the distrust of him had lingered in the back of her mind. She had feared what he was capable of, and she didn’t want to stay around long enough to give him a chance to imprison her once again.

The house, which had once been full of happiness, was now dark and gloomy. The scent of blood lingered throughout and even though Mercy’s mouth watered for the sweet, metallic taste, freedom was a far greater reward than that of the dead that lay just down the steps behind a door the vampire had swore she would never cross.

The trek forward had seemed long and slow. It was like walking through a house of haunt, a place she had discovered via the people who performed in the frame on the wall. Why anyone would want to actively seek out this feeling had been beyond her. And it was just one of the many things that still continued to confuse Mercy about the 21st century. But she would learn.

Going to Dance Macabre had lost some of its charm now that Inge couldn’t get down on the dance floor as she was used to. She tended to get into the club with an air of confidence, ready to dance to the goth music that usually ruled the speakers and make it through a sleepless night. But there was no fun to be found in dancing now and so she found herself evading the club or, if she visited, sitting in a booth, sulking.

Most days, she didn’t even make her way there by car and foot — she just manifested in a bathroom stall, locked it and waited a moment before exiting. Today she chose that way, preferring her commute through the astral. She’d been back at school teaching and her body hurt from the standing, but she didn’t want another day at home.

So she swung open the door of the bathroom, finding it empty save for one person. A woman – no surprise there – and as would be Inge’s luck, she was upset. For a moment she stood there in the doorway of the bathroom stall, wondering if she could get away with astral projecting somewhere else but eventually deciding against it. “Hey,” she said, walking up to the sinks and mirrors. She opened a faucet, let cold water run over her hands despite her not having used the toilet. “Everything okay?” She wondered if this was a human, hoped it wasn’t. “Something happen out there?”

—

Mercy was tired of being confined to Caleb’s house. It was where she lingered most days, unless she were at The Sugar Pot working in the shadows learning about how the 21st century seemed to work. And even then, those days could be quite frustrating. Nothing about Wicked’s Rest was as she had remembered, except the occasional stroll through nature where somehow man had decided to leave things untouched. Those were her favorite places. And they had reminded her briefly of the life she had once lived.

But tonight, while Caleb was out doing his own thing, Mercy had found herself venturing out into the darkness and down sidewalks and streets until she had come to a place known as Dance Macabre. For whatever reason, it had given her an odd sensation. It had felt right and where she belonged. Even the name seemed to remind her of the works of one of the greatest playwrights of her time…William Shakespeare.

As she moved forward, drawn in, she smiled as a man who was much larger than her small 5’2” stature allowed her to pass into the haze of living and undead alike. It wasn’t what she had expected at all. And in fact, it was so loud that it hurt her ears. Music thumped and the smoke and haze with strobing lights left her feeling disoriented. She had immediately regretted coming into the loud nightclub. But Mercy couldn’t seem to find her way out, and instead, she stumbled towards the bar, where a tall blonde woman had asked if she was okay, before the vampire made a break for what seemed to be a dark hall that was mute with anything flashing.

Coming to a doorway, she desperately looked for the handle and out of frustration pushed on it, which sent her careening forward and into a smaller room that wreaked of an all too familiar stink that lingered in the fields of Salem many, many years ago. But Mercy didn’t care. It seemed like a safer place to be - with muffled sounds and steady white candlelight overhead, and without thinking any harder, she found a dark and safe space to crawl up under, until she heard a voice speak to her.

Peering out from under the sink, Mercy looked up to see a woman standing there, “Nay, tis much too loud and all consuming. I hath made quite the mistake in coming here. But I know not of how to leave.” The 17th century vampire realized her words were once again aging her, but in this moment, the fear and anxiety she felt was much too great to worry about what someone thought.

—

The bathroom was often a place for things like this, wasn’t it? For drunk girls to deliver compliments as if they were soliloquies and wipe a strand of hair from your face. To hold someone’s hand, tell another that the man she was after was hardly worth her time, to exchange tampons and lipgloss. Inge still carried tampons with her for this reason, even if she didn’t need them any more. 

And those things she was good at, but this? A woman crouching under a sink, looking absolutely overwhelmed with her surroundings. As if this was the first time she’d been a club. Distantly she remembered what it had been like, to venture into the city and go into a place like this for the first time. She’d gone to parties back in town, but they’d been held in sheds and living rooms, sometimes in the town cafe — and the attendants had all been familiar figures. Former babysitters, classmates, colleagues of her parents, the veterinarian and friends of her husband.

Going out in Amsterdam had been dizzying. Everything had been dizzying after she had been transformed, of course, but she had felt like this. That was so long ago now — Inge frequented clubs aplenty these days, found their noise and sounds comforting. 

She dried off her hands, looked down at the other woman. She spoke like she was stuck in a different era which might have made plenty raise their eyebrows. But Inge was an undead woman in an undead nightclub, so it wasn’t entirely out there. She gave a look of sympathy, something she extended primarily because she hoped the other was undead like her.

“Alright,” she said, crouching down a little. “Why don’t you get out from under there, huh?” She extended a hand. “I know this place like the back of my hand, so I can show you the way out.” Inge hadn’t planned on doing something like this tonight, but she found that life never seemed to go as planned as of late. “What’s your name? Did anyone bother you?”

—

The new world had really been something. Over the course of nearly four hundred years, Mercy had laid deep underground in a pine box that held dirt and decay leaving her with one struggle…keep her mind intact. There had been a lifetime’s worth of worry to dwell on for centuries having no answers and never having contact with anyone but bugs crawling over her slowly rotting form. In and out of her mouth on occasion. Over her eyes, in and out of her ears. Nibbling on her clothing and flesh. And at first, she would scream trying to shake off the creatures that scared her so, but as time passed, she had given in…allowed them to linger on her form considering it was as close to human touch and companionship as she could get. The millions of tiny legs and bodies over the years crawled around looking for food or a place to reside, all while she began to focus more on mental tasks and memories. Until finally, one day, there was just silence from giving up, except for the occasional hard thump, rumble, or rattle that shook the ground around her.

But now, here she was surrounded by too much noise. Too many people. Too much stimulation struggling to accept all of it and understand what it meant and why people were so different.

Leaning back slightly as she watched the other woman kneel down, Mercy was cautious. And as soon as she noticed her hand, she hesitated, before giving in and taking it. Managing to pull herself out and up, the petite woman straightened up in her posture, “Thankee. My name is Mercy, and what shall I call thee?” She looked with sad blue eyes in her direction, “Nay. No one hath bothered me.” It probably seemed absurd to someone such as the woman standing in front of Mercy, but here they both were having this strange interaction.

—

There was some kind of nurturing instinct within her still. Inge didn’t enjoy it when this instinct gave her responsibility, but that didn’t mean it didn’t prop up from time to time. She wasn’t wholly uncaring, after all — she cared for her fellow undead, in most cases, and even as a professor she didn’t mind being a bit of a guide. And so it made sense to extend a hand and be glad when it was taken, looking at the shaking woman with a hint of concern.

She continued to speak in that ancient way and it reminded her of Baz Luhrmann’s Romeo + Juliet, with all the flashing lights behind the door but the Shakespearean speech falling off her lips. Something about it was theatrical, but it was also not wholly strange in a world where people could live to be a thousand years old and not age a day. Inge moved a pluck of the other’s blonde hair behind her ear.

“I’m Inge,” she said. “And I am glad no one has bothered you.” She had a small inner debate on how to broach the subject of the other’s potential immortality. She let it go for now. It could be discussed outside. “Alright. We’re just going to get out of here now, okay?” She took her hand again. “Get some fresh air. I’ll guide the way.” She gave a small smile, used her free hand to open the bathroom door and welcome the sounds of the club, heavy bass pumping through her ears. She pushed past people with ease, as she was practiced in the art of moving through large masses and reached for the doors once she’d gotten there, letting go of Mercy’s hand as they got outside. “Better?”

—

Mercy, though apprehensive about leaving the safety of the bathroom, no matter how dingy it was, had felt something familiar and warm with the woman that stood in front of her. Her words were soft and kind. There were no harsh stares, just someone who spoke gently, compared to the other people who had milled about earlier in the bathroom not even noticing Mercy tucked away in her hiding space, “Tis a pleasure to meet thee, even under such circumstance. I am Mercy.” A small, subtle smile appeared across her face cutting through the sadness that lingered in her blue eyes.

At the request to leave, Mercy inhaled deeply and released a small sigh as she nodded in approval of the plan. And with a grip much tighter than before, she latched onto Inge and followed the other woman through the overwhelming loudness of the music and modern people to finally reach the outside of the club.

With the coolness of the night air hitting her face, she let out another sigh, but this time it was one of full relief. Mercy was free and safe. The music thumping inside the building was still somewhat intimidating and the people wandering around outside Dance Macabre made her somewhat nervous, but she was free from the modern prison of a cacophony of sounds and peculiar people, “Much better, aye. Thankee from freeing me from such a prison. How dost one stand such chaos?” She looked to Inge with genuine concern.

—

Mercy’s hand was cold in her own, which was to say, she was the same temperature. Inge knew some people were just coldblooded but this was a meeting place of the undead. She would take the leap, she decided, once they were outside. For now her goal was clear: she was to take this confused and lost woman outside, to lead her to a place where lights didn’t flash and music didn’t pump.

She laughed softly at the question Mercy asked once they were outside. She had been like this once, she kept telling herself. Overwhelmed and wide eyed. Wondering why people enjoyed places so crowded, so filled with the stench of alcohol and cigarettes. Back then people had smoked inside. Back then she had smoked inside. “You learn to like it, if you want. It’s nice to enjoy the music together. To find people …” She smiled. “To have fun.” 

She started to walk from the sound of the pulsing music, though, looking at Mercy to see if she was following. “So … and correct me if I’m wrong,” Inge said. It was dark out. She could disappear if this was a mistake. “But are you of the unaging kind? You seem much older than you look. And that is a compliment.”

—

Mercy looked back as people stumbled out of the club laughing. It was nice to see people enjoying themselves. To see happiness, when she had come from a stricter time. One of morals and standards you did not question out of fear of what could happen. People liked to talk, and Mercy hated being the subject of their talk, but it seemed that people in this day and age were more wrapped up in their own needs, then that of those around them. Of course, the vampire had only been present in this new, modern world for the briefest of moments, so she hadn’t discovered tabloid magazines and online trolls.

“Fun? I do not recall such a word.” It was true. The word hadn’t come around until the early 1700s when Mercy was already buried deep underground. And like the people leaving Dance Macabre, laughing and smiling was something she hadn’t done in quite a while. In fact, the only genuine smile she could remember recently was something Caleb had said. The moving people in the wall often made her laugh, but it was somewhat hollow and only because it got her mind off of things, “I hope to find enjoyment in life once more, when the shock of these modern times has dulled.”

Noticing Inge move forward, Mercy followed, “Aye. I hath not aged. At least as far as one can tell without being able to see one’s own reflection. I was born in 1657 and lived in Salem town, up until I was accused of being a witch. From there I fled to Wicked’s Rest, but fate hath determined an early grave after being accused of being a demon, in which I was laid to rest in a pine box where I hath been for nearly 400 years.” She looked towards the ground remembering what both Caleb and Alistair had warned against, but Inge had saved her, and she felt she had owed the woman an explanation.

—

There was a chance that this woman was some kind of cosplayer, a goth who committed to the bit very hard, but Inge doubted it. Mercy had seemed genuinely upset by the noise and chaos in the club and hadn’t seemed to be performing for any kind of audience. Besides, Inge had met people who were old before — vampires and mares who’d ran around the world for multiple centuries and weren’t able to shake the antiquity from their way of speaking. This seemed more like that.

“Maybe you’ll have to look somewhere else besides clubs, then. They aren’t for everyone.” She gave a little hint of a smile, glad that the other was walking with her. And then Mercy offered a kind of honesty that was dangerous in these parts — even though she had been the one with the forward questioning in the first place. She was nearly half a century old, it was hard to imagine such a life – especially such a life spent in a pine box.

She could not be a mare, then. If Inge had been buried alive for so long, she would have perished after a while due to starvation. Her mind flashed to Ariadne, locked in a van. It flashed to Italy, where she’d hungered  while trapped. “That’s horrible,” she said, “Fate …” She tsk-ed, halted and looked at Mercy. “There is no such thing as fate. Just ignorant and cruel humans. I’m sorry that happened to you.” She shook her head. “I’m undead too, for what it’s worth. A mare.” She looked over the other. She hoped this wasn’t a lie. She wondered if it was — but she knew how cruel hunters could be. She could still flee away if this woman was a hunter who knew how to play her cards. “And I am of the opinion our kind should stick together, hm? Watch each other’s backs. Maybe teach you a thing or two about this twenty first century.”

— Mercy was starting to relax and find comfort in Inge’s company. She had spoken harshly, but from the last days of the vampire’s time with the living, before being shoved in a box, there was some truth held in Inge’s words. However, Caleb had been kind. Even Alistair. The paths she had crossed so far held kindness, but the more she thought about it, including learning what Inge was – not that Mercy knew what a mare was, she was coming to find that everyone who had been kind had been far from being a mere human, “I suppose you speak truth in the regard of humans.” It was still an odd notion knowing she wasn’t technically a part of the living human world anymore.

“Preytell, Inge, but what is a mare?” Mercy looked to her new friend as they walked slowly down the sidewalk. There was still so much to learn in this world. More about vampires, such as herself, and the other creatures that seemed to roam the modern streets of Wicked’s Rest. But she wanted to learn. She wanted to know. If this was to be her new life, she had to know.

It had been a while since Mercy had ventured out to Alistiar, but the way she had left things wasn’t sitting well with her. Sure, her good Christian days were over considering she could no longer pray nor ask for forgiveness. But it wasn’t for trying. No, instead, she’d have to face the man, she felt like she had judged so harshly, in person, and apologize on her own. A hard thing she had come to find out when navigating life without a higher power to guide her.

So, once more, with the use of Magistra Google, Mercy found herself winding down the familiar path she had taken not so long ago hoping that Alistair would be present. And when she arrived, rather than entering on her own, she wrapped lightly on the door with her knuckles and lowered her head; hands now clasped in front of her and ready to admit her judgy ways and issue the man an apology.

—

The days since the eclipse were bleeding into one another, and Alistair’s ability to differentiate night and day was getting harder as a result. Well, not that he couldn’t tell, it’s that he just didn’t care. So he’d not come in when the shop was open lately, and instead would show up at night to do the ordering and virtual inventory counts. It was inefficient, and Melody was getting annoyed, but at least he was getting his job done. He was typing away on the work laptop when someone knocked on the front of the shop.

Alistair frowned, all the lights were off except for the glow of the laptop in the back of the room. They knew he was closed. He let out a sigh, then headed for the front of the shop, Brutus getting up from his dog bed to lead the way for his owner. He unlocked the door and opened it a hair, enough to hear the person on the other side. “Who’s there?” He asked, expression hardened and wary.

_____

Standing quietly, Mercy waited, until she heard the sounds of footsteps followed by seeing Alistair coming to the door. When he had unlocked it and barely pushed it forward, much like she did when people would visit Caleb, Mercy stepped back slightly and took in a slow, quivering breath, “Tis I. Mercy Williams. I have come to apologize for my previous actions, when you were only trying to show me kindness. May I enter your place of business?”

Mercy would respect whatever his wishes were. She wasn’t there to judge, only to apologize. But she also wasn’t there to beg. Something, even in her former life she had rarely been known to do. She had simply wanted to sit down with him and explain herself and allow him to further explain himself. He had given her a chance, and she knew second chances were only, but by the grace of the bestower.

_____

When the voice sounded out, Alistair recognized her immediately. When she spoke her name, he nodded his head slowly. Why was she here? She had every right to leave and never speak to him again, yet she did so anyway. He frowned as she spoke, apologizing and asking to enter. Alistair narrowed his gaze, suspicious for a moment. She was asking for entry, which confirmed some suspicions he’d previously had. “Right.” he replied before taking a step back to allow her to come in. “Come on in, then.” He muttered, ushering her inside with a wave of his hand. 

“You have no reason to want to be near me. In fact if you were to meet any other necromancer, I would advise you to stay away from them.” He told her as he closed the door to his shop, locking behind himself so no one else would come in outside business hours. “Don’t want any customers at this hour,” he explained to her after the lock clicked. 

“So do you have questions or something?” He asked, awkwardly stood in the middle of his shop with a hand shoved in his pants pocket, the other wrapped around Brutus’s lead. “I can answer them, it’ll give you an idea of what you’d be up against if you came into contact with a necromancer. If you have questions about what you are, I’m not sure I have a good view on things. Better than learning from a prejudiced slayer, though I suppose.” he mused, brows furrowing before he walked back over to where his laptop was, sitting down in front of it. “Come, sit.” 

Mercy stepped inside upon his allowance. She had felt ashamed for her actions toward him. Upon her arrival in Wicked’s Rest, he had been the second person she had interacted with; Caleb being the first. And he warned her of the dangers that lurked around town, “I hath come to offer my apologies for how I treated thee. I must profess that is reason enough to want to be near thee.”

The vampire watched as Alistair locked up once more. Mercy knew it was inconsiderate to visit him at this hour. It was late and inappropriate to be visiting someone, when they had no proper warning of her intentions, but the times were different. She was different, and making an appearance during the daylight hour would have been nearly impossible for her, “Thankee for accommodating my request at this late hour in the day.” She lowered her head.

Pondering his question and the inquiry of necromancers, Mercy thought for a moment. She wasn’t sure what to ask him. All of this was still untouched territory for her, but she was here, and it would be rude to waste his time, “Nay. If I am being truly honest, I only came to apologize, but I will not pass on the opportunity to learn more of these…necromancers.” She moved to the small table and took a seat across from him, “Whatever knowledge can be spared by thee, I would be grateful.”

As the woman stepped inside, Alistair frowned. She had no reason to return knowing what she did, no reason to want to come anywhere near him. “I understand why you reacted the way you did,” he responded plainly. “I could exert total control over you, you have every reason to fear me.” When she gave her true intentions, Alistair nodded slowly. “Most necromancers would keep their information to themselves, especially to an undead.” He spoke, sitting across from the woman with a curious expression on his face. 

He let out a tired sigh, knowing that she had the right to know whatever he could tell her. “A simple spell can exert total control over you for a few minutes, a more complex spell can last days, even weeks if they’re skilled enough and have the proper ingredients.” He crossed a leg over the other, keeping his hands clasped together. “I’ve used such a spell before, I will be honest. One to save someone else’s life, once to save my own.” He sighed, shaking his head. “You have every right to be afraid, and you should be. I could kill you before you had time to register what was happening.” His tone was serious. “There are other necromancers around, but I don’t really know them. I don’t like them.” 

He turned his head to the side, lost in thought for a moment. “I come from a powerful family of necromancers from the Scottish Highlands, we were trained to be the best. I was the best. But I didn’t want it. I left Scotland, came to New York. I was tracked down. People don’t like necromancers, and I understand why.” He shrugged his shoulders, turning his gaze back to the woman in front of him. “You can’t really defend yourself against a necromancer, you just have to pray that you can be faster than the spell they cast.” He explained in a serious manner, unseeing eyes fixed on hers. 

_____

Mercy listened intently as he spoke and explained what necromancers could do, but with each passing moment, she could feel a pit of worry forming in her stomach. Growing up in a time of accusations that could result in a noose around your neck or worse had left Mercy fearful. Even after all the years she spent underground, but now, learning that there were people who could control her with magic and even end her undead life had worried her even more.

Alistair had been kind in her inquiry explaining himself and the things that were possible. Things that she might have doubted in another lifetime, but not here. Not now. She had already witnessed way too much in a short amount of time. This time period, more advanced in so many ways, had left her feeling lonelier than ever, despite having Caleb around, “I can only thank thee for being truthful when I understand such confessions could put thee at risk for divulging secret information. I shall heed thy warning. Have you any questions for me?”

The conversation the pair had previously shared had resulted in Mercy telling about her past, and though she had spilled quite a bit of useful information, Alistair did not seem as though he had intended on threatening her or her life. She did, afterall return back to his place of business to apologize, giving him the opportunity to harm her if he had pleased. 

_____

It was in times like this that Alistair wished that they could see the expression on Mercy’s face. It was a lot for a person to take in. It was even more when said person could easily be under his control. “You have every right to be afraid of me.” He told her, letting his head drop down a bit as he felt a pang of shame for what he was. “Know that unless you actively tried to kill me or someone else, I wouldn’t use it.” He held his hands up, showing he meant no harm. “But I understand if this is knowledge you’d rather not have on me.” He scratched the back of his neck, feeling uncomfortable. 

Then, Mercy asked if he had any questions for him. But if she wanted to tell him what life was like when she was from, then she’d talk about it. It wasn’t for Alistair to pry on. “Can’t say that I do.” He spoke instead, giving a forced smile as he crossed one leg over the other, trying to appear relaxed instead of on edge. The last thing she needed was for a necromancer to lose their cool around her. 

“In truth, I know much about your kind. Your aversion to sunlight, namely your weaknesses.” He raised a brow as he looked back up at her with unseeing eyes. “That’s how I was brought up. Know who I’m able to control, who I’m able to bring under my heel.” He turned away, a snarl on his lips. “That’s what you have to worry about, the necromancers who act the way that they should. Not me. They’re out there, and they’re dangerous, you understand me?” He really wanted to make that point known, thinking back to the time he’d controlled Zofia without so much as a thought. The time that he’d almost been killed by a bezkost, and that hunter had sounded disgusted with his actions. It was to save himself, why didn’t people understand that? 

He sighed, leaning back in his seat. “If you feel a need to leave, I get it.” Alistair said instead, arms still crossed firmly over his chest. “You don’t need to force yourself to stay. You’ve apologized when you didn’t need to. All I ask is that you be careful about what’s out there.”

_____

Mercy was trying to wrap her head around the dangers of being around him, but she had been painted a limited picture of what witchcraft really was. And until she had found herself in the situation of feeding on blood to survive, Mercy hadn’t truly believed that witches existed. The Salem Witch Trials had been a lot of false claims made by angry people. Political in nature. So it had been hard for her to believe the side of the innocent, when the accused were being unfairly executed at the hands of sinister men and women with their own personal motives; much like her ex-best friend had.

“Thankee for the warning. I shall heed thy advice.” Mercy could tell that Alistair was uncomfortable. That he wasn’t supposed to speak of such things around her, and the slight snarl she caught as he turned his head was sign enough that she should probably take her leave. He knew what she was and what she could do. Knew more about the abomination she had become than even more so than she did. But it did seem she had one more person on her side, even if it was a dangerous ally at best.

Standing up, she bowed her head once more, as if he could see her, “I shall take my leave then. I thank thee for thy time and understanding. Again my sincerest apologies for any offense taken by mine actions. Good day, Sir.” Mercy turned and quietly left the shop leaving nothing but the bell over the door to signal her exit.

_____

Alistair sat where he was for a long moment, trying to decipher the motive the girl would have for seeking him out. Of course, it was always important to know what could get you when you least expect it. Since when had they grown so soft towards the undead? Since when did they care what happened to them? Who was the cause, and why? Alistair got up from their seat and walked over to the door, locking it. They let out an annoyed sigh and walked back to their seat, what they were doing there at work in the first place long since forgotten. 

Anytime Mercy could get out of the town and into nature was a relief. The sound of cars flying by and constant chatter of people around town seemed to be enough to drive anyone with a long history of silence mad. So when Mercy had pulled up directions via Magistra Google on how to get to Wicked’s Rest State Park, she gladly followed them out of the house and down the street despite the fact that it was night outside. Though she had greatly missed spending time in the sunshine and hadn’t quite figured that one out yet without being heavily cloaked by clothing that weighed her down uncomfortably.

As Magistra Google told her which way to turn, she had found herself walking down an empty sidewalk that was hardly a place to be desired. There weren’t any cars around, and though it was quieter than before, she could hear the sounds of chaos off in the distance. Did this mean she was getting closer to her destination? She wanted to believe so with all of her heart, but according to her phone, there was still quite a ways to go. But there was something else that felt off. It was as if eyes had been following her for quite some time, and though she had chosen to try and push past the discomfort, she was starting to question whether or not she should return.

Looking up to the stars with a sad sigh, Mercy had opted for the latter. Maybe Caleb could take her via his metal carriage, but tonight was no longer starting to feel safe, and as she put her phone into her pocket and began to turn around, she had been met with someone much larger than her. Someone with a nefarious look in their eyes and their fists clenched and ready for a fight.

—

Metzli wiped the sticky blood from their face, licking at the remnants staining their fingers. The kill wasn’t too messy, considering that their meal had been a lowly raccoon. An animal so small was not nearly enough to keep the vampire sated, but seeing as their hunger pangs began at the end of the work day, Metzli thought it best to have some sort of snack before venturing into town for a few evening errands.

“Hm…” Humming to themself, they mulled over the idea of taking the carcass with them. Surely eyes would be locked on them, and even if Metzli rarely met anyone’s gaze, they felt it might be possible for a concerned citizen to call authorities on them. “Hm…” They hummed again, retrieving their handkerchief from their jacket and wiping the rest of the blood away before grabbing the raccoon by its scruff and walking out of the treeline. Metzli looked left and right, and left again, pleased to find that no one was around. 

With a small smile, they sighed contentedly as they cut through an alleyway to get back to their car. They had only just spotted their black sedan when they saw what looked to be a couple getting intimate in the cover of darkness. Strange, really, but Metzli stared a bit longer with a curious tilt of their head, wondering how anyone could be so openly affectionate. Leila always held their hand and kissed them while out and about, but that was hardly—oh. Oh. Metzli was wrong. Cocking an arm back was not affection, and the scream the woman let out was most definitely distress.

“Hey!” They exclaimed, sprinting forward and throwing the dead raccoon at the back of the assailant’s head while closing the distance. It felt wrong to do so, but Metzli had little to work with. “Run!” They instructed the woman, watching as the raccoon fell to the ground and rolled only once before it landed on its side. “Run now!” The man stumbled, shaking away the ambush as he turned around just in time to see a fist meet his face. It caused minimal damage, somehow. Metzli grumbled and reached for their knife, grabbing ahold of its hilt, but only for a moment. A body collided with theirs with great force, sending the two rolling and fighting for dominance. Much to Metzli’s dismay, they were overpowered, and it was their turn for their face to meet a fist. 

As she watched as the man drew his hand back ready to strike her down, the centuries old vampire cowered, until she heard the loud exclamation in the distance. Looking over, Mercy noticed as someone had come barreling towards them, and on the instruction to run, the small woman found herself stumbling backwards out of the way as she watched the two people rumble. But when she noticed the large man once again getting the upper hand, Mercy knew she couldn’t run.

She wasn’t just going to take off and leave a complete stranger, one who had saved her, fend for themself, and without much hesitation, she found herself launching onto his back like a wild boar attacking a man mounted on a horse; fearless and ready for a fight. But it was the feral side that had managed to get the better of her, and without the strength to control it, Mercy sank her teeth into his shoulder and bared down ripping out a chunk and spitting it on the ground.

With red eyes, blood smeared across her pale face, and teeth bared, she let her crimson hues drift down to meet with the person laying underneath the man. It was a look of ravenous hunger and need to dominate, until suddenly a burning took over her entire face and mouth. Dropping down from the man’s back, Mercy stumbled backwards and began to frantically try and wipe the remaining blood off of her face all while trying to spit out the rank liquid. It had been her first taste of hunter blood and definitely her last.

Metzli’s eyes widened with surprise, watching as blood spilled from the hunter’s back. “No!” They exclaimed, worried at how bad the burn would be. It seemed to hit her almost instantly, and despite how Metzli wished she wasn’t hurt, her ignorance gave them both the edge they needed. The slayer screamed and staggered just a breath away as his blood ran down and painted their face, allowing Metzli to ram their foot into his stomach. He flew away with a wheeze, landing on his back with another hitch of his breath. 

There was a slight burn to their skin, the wind causing it to heighten and spread like a real fire. It was followed by a rush within them, as if to ignite a ferocious blaze in Metzli. “Take this,” They offered the woman a handkerchief to help with the blood, taking advantage of the moment of reprieve. What else would the hunter do anyway while he was struggling to breathe? 

Red eyes trailed away from the woman’s, landing on the slayer. Their pupils dilated at the sight. He was helpless and unable to do more than gasp like a fish out of water, and Metzli was the bear ready to play with its food. That was the instinct, at least. But a more humane nature muddied that sensation, softening their disposition. They wanted to be better, so they would be. “I will not kill you if you leave. Please lea—mrph!” A knife plunged into Metzli’s calf, and they lurched forward from the sudden pain. 

The force of it nearly ended everything, but they managed to throw themself to the right to avoid the stake the slayer had readied in anticipation of their reaction. “Leave!” It sounded like a plea, but it went unheard as the hunter rose from the ground. Metzli scooted away, removing the blade from their calf and swiftly throwing it toward the hunter’s chest. He moved just enough to avoid a fatal blow, but still fell back as it landed deeply into his shoulder. They used the interruption to run back toward the fellow undead woman, picking her up and urging her to run with them. Away from the danger. It was the only option left if they wanted to avoid more death on their hands. 

Mercy stumbled around in pain, finally laying eyes on the handkerchief being offered. Taking it without any reservation, she began to feverishly wipe at her mouth trying to ease the pain. Anything at this point had to be better than the way this felt on her face. And as she tugged the cloth down her skin, she couldn’t help, but let her eyes follow the direction of the scuffle happening between…another person like her and the brutish man that was at least getting his arse handed to him.

However, it didn’t last long. And as soon as Mercy laid eyes on the man digging a knife into the other vampire, she immediately felt regret for the actions she had caused. She would apologize in depth when they were both safe, but until then the welcome arms at her side, sent Mercy scurrying forward with the handkerchief still in her grip.

It was as if safety was just over the horizon, and Mercy ran as fast as she could with the other vampire without any hesitation, until they had finally found a place to stop with the brute out of sight, “Art thou okay? Doth thee need help?” She looked towards the other vampire with concern in her eyes that were starting to fade back into their natural bright blue.

The slayer didn’t want to let go of his would-be victims, and with each step the vampires took to escape, Metzli could hear him struggling to keep up. An arrow or two flew past the duo, but they didn’t look back, although the urge was there. They kept their focus on their getaway, maneuvering around the alleyways they had grown to know so well. They only wished they could be traversing up on the rooftops. 

Utilizing the high ground was always the best strategy, and it was the way Metzli was taught. Having lived in a place like Mexico, where most roofs were flat, it was just the way they traveled for maximum discretion, and they had kept that habit into the states. It was just unfortunate that most others didn’t share that particular skillset, especially when it would have taken far less running for an escape. 

“You are using strange words.” Metzli’s brows scrunched together as they attempted to decipher the words spoken as they kept watch around the corner. “Help? I do not need help. Art does not need help either.” What did art have to do with that situation? Was it that  obvious that they owned a gallery? Or did this vampire somehow read minds like that one strange vampire in those movies about an eclipse? Or was it a dawn? They couldn’t be bothered to remember, not when they leaned back into the wall to find that there was something sticking out of it. 

“Oh.”

Mercy couldn’t understand what the other vampire was rambling on about when it came to art, but when they mentioned not needing help, it gave her some relief. The 21st century was tricky to navigate, and while she could fire back about how the other person was using strange words, she opted not to. It was the expression and the single word that left Mercy narrowing her eyes in confusion and concern.

“Why doth thee proclaim oh?” Mercy looked the vampire over curiously, until she made her way around the side and noticed the arrow sticking out of their back, “Thou hath been shot!” The 16th century vampire moved closer to examine the arrow sticking jutting outwards, “I must find thee shelter and someone to help!” Mercy wracked her brain, until she thought about Caleb. “Goodman Caleb! He can assist thee! He is wise in many ways!” And he was the only person she had really trusted, besides Allistair.

Again, their brows furrowed with confusion, and they shook their head. “What are you saying? I cannot understand you.” Their was an underlying tone of frustration in Metzli’s voice, and they had to take a breath to keep it from turning into anger. They didn’t like when they couldn’t understand things, and it was made worse by the fact that they couldn’t understand someone in need. But apparently her safety didn’t really matter to her at that moment. 

“Yes. I have been shot.” A statement made lackluster with their bland tone and stoic face. While she blabbered on in her strange English, Metzli turned in circles, trying to reach the arrow on their own. They understood the words ‘shelter’ and ‘help’ at least, but they stopped their spinning to shake their head in disagreement. With a few more attempts to reach the arrow. “Do not need shelter. Just pull it out.”

Mercy growled in frustration of her own. Not at the person in front of her, but more so out of not being able to speak perfect 21st century modern English. When she got back to Caleb’s she was going to do so many green owl lessons that the stupid owl would be begging her to quit pestering him.

How could this vampire be so nonchalant about being shot with an arrow? Mercy couldn’t understand it, but it didn’t matter. What mattered was getting the arrow out, which apparently she noticed the person trying to do as they spun around in circles like a dog chasing its tail. If it wasn’t such a serious situation, Mercy might have found humor in the action, “I am not a doctor, but if this is what thou requests of me..then so be it.”

Stepping forward, Mercy reluctantly put her hands on the shaft of the arrow, “Do not move.” Her voice was firm, but there was a slight tremble in her hands. However, the longer she waited, the more she was less inclined to do this, and with a deep breath, the vampire yanked as fast and as hard as she could, pulling the arrow from the person who had saved her life.

Metzli groaned as the bolt was ripped out of them, but no real exclamation escaped from their lungs. With a few grounding breaths, they stood fully and rolled their shoulders, winding their half arm over and over again to get the sensation the arrow left out of their nerves. “Thank you.” They hissed, “I think we are safe to leave for home if you are done burning.” Carefully, Metzli leaned forward, almost touching their nose to hers. There was hardly any blood left on her face, but her skin did look irritated. 

Could’ve been worse, and it wasn’t deadly in any way, so Metzli didn’t bother checking on her further. “When I say home, I mean you go to your own home.” It felt important to clarify that. People too often misunderstood even when they were being blunt. “I will leave now. Thank you for taking out the arrow, whoever you are.” Metzli stiffened their posture and extended their arm toward the vampire, offering a handshake.

And just like that, the other vampire was good. Something Mercy was grateful for. She didn’t know what to do if the person who had saved her was worse off from the removal of the arrow. But Mercy still had a lot to learn about being part of the undead, “Wilcuma.” She bowed her head, before looking back up to the other person.

Mercy had forgotten about the burning of her face. All the excitement and rush from the escape and then yanking a bolt from the other vampire’s back had distracted her, and with good reason, “I hath forgotten of such a pain, but thankee for checking on my wellbeing.” Almost nose to nose with the other person, Mercy’s eyes grew wide, but there had been relief when they pulled away. Such odd customs for a new century.

“Aye. Caleb will be waiting for me. Travel safely.” She looked down at the vampire’s hand before clasping it and returning a good firm shake, “Mercy. My name is Mercy. And I shall call thee?” She wanted to know, so if they ever crossed paths again, she could greet them, and if not, at least, she would know of another friend that resided in Wicked’s Rest.

Their expression contorted slightly at the sensation of Mercy’s flesh meeting theirs. It was still odd to touch anyone they didn’t know well, but the custom felt necessary after they had helped one another. “Okay.” A curt nod, “I am Metzli. I own the gallery.” They quickly retracted their hand and pocketed it, wringing their fingers together to trade one sensation for a better one. It grounded them, as it always did, and they let out a sigh of relief. 

“I am going to leave now.” Metzli looked to the sky and turned on their heel, tripping slightly on themself. They winced at how it jostled their shoulder, but they quickly coughed to cover it up before taking a few steps toward freedom. She probably didn’t notice. Probably. 

“Goodbye, Mercy.”