devotion.

"you  already  said  that,"  he  teases,  a  sparkle  in  his  eyes  as  he  places  down  the  homemade  delight  on  the  table,  a  brush  of  whipped  cream  on  the  cuff  of  his  overshirt  clumsily  placed.  gaze  redirected  to  catch  the  tail  end  of  the  words  that  were  leaving  xingyu's  lips.  there  was  a  time  where  even  a  thought  passing  would  have  sent  him  into  a  tailspin,  in  the  depths  of  his  overthinking,  cowering  away  from  reality  or  worse...  his  fears...  but  now,  he  tries  to  shift  away  from  the  worries  that  might  have  been  tormenting  them  all.  he  needs  to  know  that  his  best  friend  has  a  memory  of  this  day  that  isn't  painted  with  everything  that  might  be  to  come. "it's  a  good  thing  that  i  couldn't  forget,  then.  someone  has  to  remember  when  to  celebrate,"  with  sincerity.

such a simple form of comfort, and yet at her friend's soft touch, at the way he meets her eyes and doesn't look away, lettie lets out a small breath. a burden shared is a burden halved, her mother used to say, only the one person she'd wanted to talk to about all of this hadn't been there to share it with. perhaps the burden isn't halved by sharing it with xingyu, but as she leans her head down, her cheek briefly resting on his hand, things do feel lighter. she blinks back tears, and for all of the darkness and anxiety leading to tonight, having xingyu on her side is a cherished bright spot.

straightening up, lettie nods. "yes, alistair." the man in question's gentleness with the animals the day they'd truly spoken for the first time comes to mind. "he knows. not all of the details, but it didn't feel right not saying anything."

he nods at her answers, going over everything that she’s told him. he was glad that a few people knew, that she didn’t have to keep it completely bottled up and grateful that he could help alleviate it, even just a fraction. watching her, eyes reflecting the morning light shining back from the water’s surface, he can’t help but voice the sentiment.  “sorry, that was a lot to spring on you in the early morning,” he apologizes with a small laugh. it was easy to give into the weight of what wrapped around them, to let the shadows that trailed color every word.  “but thank you. for telling me.”  if only he had more answers for her — how to understand the dreams, why her of all people would receive them, whether they were going to all be okay by the end of this. maybe he’s not meant to have those answers. what he can give her is his word, and a shoulder to lean on. it feels like the least he can do in the presence of someone who eased the burden of staying in magnolia creek, someone whose sincerity he’s appreciated over the years. “no matter what happens—tonight, or whatever else follows…” a breath. he hoped the group would find that direction they needed. “we’ll be doing it together.” he gives her shoulder a small squeeze. “i’m not going anywhere.”

MAYBE IF THIS CONVERSATION HAD GONE RIGHT, IT WOULD HAVE STARTED WITH A HUG. that after six years of thinking alistair was dead he could say, thank god you’re alive or i’m sorry or you have no idea how good it is to see you again. and maybe those would have been entirely too normal or too optimistic or not enough to wrench the guilt that clings to his ribcage. and now he can’t take anything back, and all he has is this road to maroon peak and the choices he’s made and this conversation. confusion flits across xingyu’s face. he doubles back. “i mean i— you got the note too, right?” he starts with the obvious, starting to process all of this. “i thought lily would’ve told you.” he swallows, remembers all the time he’s stood at alistair’s gravestone, remembers the times he went with her. mourning without a body to bury meant you were stuck with your imagination of what happened, of their final moments, of the pain dealt. now he doesn’t need to imagine, alistair can spell it out for him, and he doesn’t know if that’s for better or for worse. whether running through the what ifs with more exact outcomes of what wouldn’t have happened is any help at all. “she reached out to me sometime after you— after we thought you died.” he winces at his own correction. imagining the time where all the shadows had clung to him so tightly he could barely pick up his feet. and then meeting lily had pulled him from the quicksand of it all, that maybe he could be more than his grief, that he could make something of himself anew. 

"it started a month before i moved here." three days before her mother died, before her life split into before and after. "sometimes, i'll hear the name of the book a student wants read for story time. other times, it's this awful feeling in my chest and then i'll see that thalia's written an obituary for a name that i recognize." for the first time since she started talking about her abilities, lettie looks over at her friend. "this summer, it's pretty much been the same thing, over and over. this...void and then him." it had been so dark, so cavernous, so lonely. lettie could tell that the man was hurting, but there was nothing that she could do but watch. "i didn't know who he was until he came back."

IT'S AMUSING THE WAY HIS HEART FLUTTERS while his jaw remains set. a willful display of bravery. it's admirable — with any luck, it won't get him killed. ❛ i suppose that’s better than throwing a football at them. ❜

straightforward indeed. rylan’s gaze follows his to their knife, lips curving into a smirk. ❛ you could say that. ❜ they toss the dagger loosely, smooth wood slicing through the air before once more finding their grip.

experience makes their movements fluid, careless in a way that betrayed centuries of practice. if anything, it takes more thought to maintain a human pace than it did to plan their approach.

still, he’s new. the way they were once. so, they slow half a stride, no longer leading. ❛ remember, they aren't like other vampires. they've lost the ability of rational thought. they won't hesitate, even if it means their death. they will go for the obvious kill. ❜

they’re hunting a group, and from the footprints on the ground, there are at least four ferals. not too many to handle, but they would be unpredictable. ❛ and never let them get behind you. that’s where they’re most dangerous. ❜

with minds clouded by hunger, group cooperation should prove difficult. perhaps if the pair could draw them close enough, they would tear each other's throats out. then, as an afterthought, ❛ do you have any silver on you? ❜ they don’t carry any, for obvious reasons, but it could prove useful. ❛ a necklace, a ring… a stake. ❜ teeth flash in a grin at the last suggestion. ❛ worth a shot. ❜

HE APPRECIATES THAT THEY SLOW DOWN, EVEN JUST A FRACTION, and in turn he tries to match their pace better, learn from the way they’re carrying themselves through the graveyard.  they will go for the obvious kill.  “right.” xingyu nods once, a sharp inhale to try and calm that racing heart of his. someone like him should say no, turn around, stay back, let someone else handle it. but he imagines the carnage the ferals could leave in their wake if they make it out of god’s acre. remembers what happened the last time he couldn’t act, the memory prodding him at the base of his spine, propelling him forward.  he needs to prove to himself that he’s not the person he once was. that he can be trusted to follow the others on whatever it takes to end the hunger. 

ece had always known magnolia creek was full of ghosts—she'd just never anticipated becoming one herself. nearly a month returned and she couldn't shake the feeling that her homecoming was more akin to a haunting. like a phantom trapped in place, unable to move on, she's forced to retrace the steps of a life she'd tried very hard to make sure no longer belonged to her. and it was agonizing. more than ece ever imagined. because every corner was a reckoning, a reminder that while she was busy outgrowing her past, what she'd left behind hadn't simply ceased to exist in her absence, either. it wasn't something she'd had to think about in new york where her life was a constant blur of movement; running away from something was always easier when there was someplace to run towards. but in magnolia creek, there was no running. it wasn't a lesson she needed repeated twice. if one asked her about it later, ece might say that sentiment is why she ended up at the bakery in the first place. that is was nothing more than a way to showcase the fact that she had no qualms confronting the past, and plus, where else was she meant to get a halfway decent croissant, anyway? no mention of old flames, or birthdays, or the knowledge six years of separation hadn't been enough to erase. no mention that a part of her was searching for reprieve, for something that had stayed the same even if she hadn't. she's staring at the strawberry cheesecake like she can burn a hole through the glass. it's enough to make ece jump when the cashier speaks again, too startled to make sense of the words right away. an unwarranted wave of nausea accompanies the realization that they're asking if she'd like to add anything else to her order, and it's only when their eyes glance towards the cheesecake that ece decides this venture was ridiculous. "you know what," manicured fingers rummage through her purse for the first bill she can find, a crumpled twenty shoved hastily in their direction. "cancel that." it was entirely too much for the single croissant she'd asked for and no longer had any plans on receiving, but ece didn't care, the overwhelming urge to get out get out get out taking over her body. she's only a few feet from the door when it swings open again, the bell above cutting through the afternoon chatter like an alarm. for a moment, the world stops moving.

SOMETIMES, THE HAUNTING COMES NOT FROM A CURSE, OR A MONSTER, OR ANY SUPERNATURAL ENTITY AT ALL. sometimes all it takes is the question of what could have been. xingyu has played that game more times than he’d like to admit. it’s dangerous, standing on the crossroads of the past, trying to peer down a closed path and imagine what life would be like, conjure something from the haze of a future that doesn’t belong to him. what if he had run away that night on the field? what if he ran in? what if he left magnolia creek and never looked back? what if he had followed ece? staying in magnolia creek meant that question sneaks up on him easily, taps him on the shoulder to say hello when he least expects it. like the last time he walked into briar & bramble, where the florist asked if he was still with that girlfriend of his, getting flowers for her again. or hours ago, sitting on that bench with lettie and he couldn’t help but gaze out towards the creaky wooden platform where he’d once walked with ece, on this day many years ago.  or right now, as he pushes into elderberry bakery. the last time he stood in front of her like this, he couldn’t give the answer she wanted, or the answer he thought she wanted, the answer he would’ve given if she had asked him anytime prior to halloween. he had stared at her, then, trying to wrench the right response from the sands of a future he had once seen with her, the expectations that they had set for themselves. and yet when he pulled his hands from the earth, all of it fell away and he was left with only his hands and a memory he knew he couldn’t walk away from.

“ece.” it’s pronounced more like an exhale, like saying her name aloud again has lured the past to come rushing towards his chest, press down on his lungs.

when:  july  11th,  8:19am

in  his  earlier  years,  kaden  had  resigned  to  the  fact  that  he  might  not  ever  have  a  best  friend,  so  easily  repelling  through  friendship  groups  with  no  true  attachment.  he  had  never  imagined  a  lifetime  when  he  would  be  so  attached,  so  interlinked  with  another  person  that  he  would  have  felt  that  there  wasn't  enough  in  the  world  that  he  could  do  with  them.  there  were  times  when  he  wondered  how  over  the  past  six  years,  he  had  been  given  the  first  true  luck  of  his  life  when  it  came  to  being  given  the  gift  of  being  close  to  someone  like  xingyu.  the  worst  day  of  his  life  had  led  to  one  of  his  strongest  bonds;  it  was  crazy  how  life  worked.

standing  on  the  doorstep,  the  cake  tin  balanced  in  his  hand,  the  rapping  on  the  door  not  unfamiliar  from  him  even  at  this  hour,  especially  on  this  day.  the  years  had  fallen  away,  barriers  that  had  existed  no  longer  existed  and  kaden  was  sure  that  on  this  day...  just  for  one  more...  he  wanted  to  be  human.  to  live  in  a  world  where  the  only  thing  on  his  mind  was  the  person  that  he  loved  the  most  and  seeing  a  smile  on  his  face,  seeing  him  understand  how  important  he  was.  he  couldn't  believe  there  had  been  a  time  when  this  was  just  any  other  day...

when  the  door  opens,  free  hand  moves  to  adjust  the  lid,  revealing  beneath  a  strawberry  cheesecake  (or  what  may  be  considered  as  one),  whipped  cream  hiding  the  sins  of  bad  craftmanship.  pink  sticky  note  taken  from  his  nieces  stash  and  the  final  version  of  many  crumbled  trash  can  versions  reading  a  simply  happy  birthday.  "i  know  i'm  early,  but  i  couldn't  wait  for  you  to  get  here,"  he  jokes,  the  grin  on  his  face  spreading  when  he  announces,  "happy  birthday,  xingyu."

IF THERE WAS ONE PERSON WHO COULD STAVE OFF THE SHARP EDGE OF MEMORY and let him set down the weight upon his shoulders, it was kaden. being with him was like remembering what it was like to breathe before guilt had alighted upon his chest with talons at his throat. if there was anything to be grateful for in the aftermath of that night, it was certainly this. this morning, he’s thinking about the note lily left, about the trek he’ll have to make later tonight to maroon peak. combined with his lack of sleep lately, it’s nearly enough to distract him from the fact that today is his birthday. but the knock on the door dissipates his worries, brings him back to the present. it’s instantaneous, the way his eyes light up, smile forming easily. grateful, that despite everything, at least they still had this. he spies kaden through the peephole and swings the door open. laughter escapes, eyes crinkling at the corners as he spies the cake with his favorite flavor, kaden’s handwriting on the sticky note. 

the gentleness in her friend's voice is what ultimately brings her to answer. mindlessly tapping her fingers against the bottle of water, lettie gives a small nod before her gaze shifts from her hands to the waves across from their bench. "my mother was from magnolia creek." it wasn't exactly a secret, the devaux name an old and familiar one in the town. it was a name synonymous with suspicion, with whispers, with a debt never fully paid. she had not understood all that came with it until she had arrived just over six years ago; she still isn't sure she fully understands.

IF THE DIM LIGHT OUTSIDE HAD SEEMED HAUNTING BEFORE MATTEO’S ARRIVAL, now it suddenly feels like it’s providing the two a reprieve, softening their silhouettes, blurring shadows that would otherwise be obvious in the daylight. xingyu makes a mental note to get a new copy of the key as he turns on a small lamp in the corner, keeps it low to preserve the respite, warm yellow tinting the room as if it can paint over what’s keeping these two up in the middle of the night. he grabs a glass from the cabinet. pours water as he listens to matteo, slides the glass in his direction. he didn’t ask for it but xingyu leaves it for him just in case. he doesn’t question the reason he gives for being here, just nods. but he can tell. there’s something that lurks underneath the rough edge of his words. watches matteo’s hand picking at the sweater cuff. and then— everyone’s still asking about him. his eyes widen. he wasn’t expecting for matteo to bring it up. the fact of alistair’s return keeps catching him off-guard. he thought he had come to terms with all the implications, but every mention still deepens the cracks in the foundation built beneath him, eroding a resolve that keeps the guilt from hemorrhaging into the open.  a short, dry laugh comes out under his breath, exhaustion wearing down his usual composure. “yeah. someone asked me about the same thing yesterday.” a teammate had called, saying he heard from his parents, wondering if he knew anything about it. “didn’t know what to say, either.” his gaze shifts away from matteo and down at their feet. leans against the counter again like it’ll provide him any more stability.

fingers pressed to lips. smoke filling lungs to purge them of anything clean. ash falling to the ground in a trail beneath his feet. nerves unsteady and ready to attack at any moment. alistair smoked like he was trying to fumigate his body of the twisting, crawling pests that lived just beneath the skin. a fucking note.  what did lily think this was, middle school? passing notes behind the teacher’s back, laughing and giggling as they tried not to get caught? it was stupid. it was childish. it was ridiculous; and yet… he was the one who decided to come. i hate her.

MAROON PEAK REGARDS HIM AS AN OUTSIDER. the trees angle more like they’re closing in rather than parting the way, leaves above him covering the sliver of moonlight in the sky, dirt just a little too soft underfoot like one wrong move and it’d collapse beneath him, swallow him whole. he would never have even known this trail if not for this group. stay out of the forest, his parents had always warned, stay away from the mountain. and he had listened faithfully. in the before, at least. one hand wraps around the baseball bat, slightly more familiar than it was days ago when he had stalked god’s acre with rylan. the other grips a flashlight, steadily sweeping the trees and the path. double checks his watch to make sure he’s keeping pace. he can’t bear the silence, needs to keep the thoughts about what might happen tonight at bay. so instead he fills it with his whistling, an old song he heard on the radio once with his grandparents. the melody conceals the leaves crunching behind him. but then a hand touches his shoulder and he startles, stopping in his tracks as he turns.

“alistair.” his lips part, as if he meant to say something more, but any words he thought he had die before it reaches his tongue.

xingyu was not a distraction, but running always had been. it was a routine she’d slipped into after arriving in the town, although it wasn’t something she actually enjoyed until their paths crossed. the young doctor was a bright spot in the town, kind to the core. their weekly run was a ritual the witch woman treasured.

slightly out of breath, she gives a grateful smile as she takes the offered water. the cool liquid glides down her throat as she looks out over the harbor. devaux house is just out of sight, and she briefly thinks of everything that’s still left to do before she can move in; it’s easier to focus on home renovations than what’s stirring in magnolia creek.

lettie’s grip tightens on the water bottle as xingyu breaks the silence, and it takes her a moment to reply. she’s spent so long pretending, but with the meeting mere hours away, is there a point in keeping up the charade?

“i did,” she nods, glancing over at him. it’s difficult to tell if he’s as unsure about all of this as she is. this has never been something they’ve really broached before. hell, until the last month or so, she hasn’t broached it with anyone. “i don’t know what to expect, but…it’s lily,” she finishes, as if that explains it all. because if lily was the one asking, how could they say no?

❛ STAY CLOSE, ❜ rylan tosses over their shoulder, less a suggestion than a command. the ground is soft underfoot, and their boots sink into thick moss with each step.

it’s the first time they’ve been hunting with another, much less a human, and they have taken every precaution. their muscles sing with the fresh human blood, replacing their usual diet of deer and black bear.

for the sake of their companion, rylan had fed prior to their meeting. the man had bled faster than expected —anemic, most likely— and his pulse was thready by the time the vampire drew back. they didn’t like to leave them that way; the phantom thread connecting them a nuisance, an open door that strayed too close to the truth. a reminder of the monster they became to protect those around them. they made sure his end was quick.

out of an abundance of caution, they chew a piece of gum. the pack rests heavy in their pocket.

an overturned headstone draws their attention, and they turn sharply. ❛ this way. ❜

facing a group of ferals is no small task. somehow, the pediatrics nurse isn’t who they envisioned as their hunting partner.

they have met before, a child rescued from a house fire. rylan had a rule of not visiting once the ambulance left the medical bay, but the girl had been so small, lungs filled with smoke, heaving beneath an oxygen mask. when they visited a week later, xingyu was there.

WHEN XINGYU VOLUNTEERED TO JOIN RYLAN ON THE HUNT, he thought he had prepared himself for it. for the quiet eerieness that always plagued god’s acre regardless of the time of day, for having to follow rylan’s lead chasing something he’s only heard about in passing, for the unfamiliar weight of the baseball bat in his palm. he eyes the headstone that they did. nods once. soft features hardening, muscles tense. with every step they take to push deeper into the cemetery, it’s getting harder to pretend that he can’t feel his heartbeat stamp loud enough to feel its pressure in his ears. even if putting on this bravado doesn’t matter — he’s sure rylan can hear it — he has to at least pretend for his own sake. their question cuts through the nerves. he looks down at the baseball bat. “i was a football player, not a baseball player,” he admits. taps it once in his hand to feel the heft again. it was his brother’s that was left behind from his family’s move. “and not that i’ve swung it at anyone before, either…” he looks away with a grimace. tonight will probably be the last sentence he gets to say that.