#vascar

The sun had gone down once again. Every fiber in my body was on high alert, wanting to touch the shadows that covered the sand outside. The feeling wasn't a stranger to me, not anymore, not after two years.

Whatever it was that had drawn me so much to the darkness, it had a strong grip on me. The feeling came for the first time after the Priests had left my parental home. Ever since then, I had been waiting during the night for something, or someone, to come find me. To release me from this hell I'm in.

The void Vascar's death had left was impossible to fill. Only the peace at night seemed to soften the pain, or the whiskey in my hand.

The substance left a burning ache in my throat as I neared my porch. The door was already open, like I was expecting someone to enter the old house I had found when I left the City. The moon was the only thing that lit up the house, shooing away the shadows that were following me.

I looked up and nodded at the celestial body like it was an old friend. Another sip, and my throat was once again on fire. My tongue wet my lips while my eyes darted around the emptiness around me.

Not a living soul in sight, not even a tree. Everything was dead, just like the heart in my chest. Ripped out by that fucking church. A bitter laugh came from the back of my throat. Raising the almost empty glass in my hand, I looked deep into the night.

"Here is to the fool that fell in love with a Priest." One gulp, and everything that was left in the glass was gone. I slid down the pillar that I was leaning on. The glass fell out of my hands, shattering into pieces.

Placing my face into my hands, I let out an ear-piercing scream. Tears wetted my cheeks that were probably colored by the alcohol. My voice died, but something in the distance came alive.

My head snapped up.

Squinting my eyes, I acted like I could see something in the dark void. But it was no use. I slowly got up, and all of a sudden, a sick feeling crept up. My hands found the dagger that was strapped to the back of my belt. The long white skirt parted over the one leg that was one foot closer to the door of the house.

The beats inside my chest went insane. Behind me, I heard sounds coming from the house. Cups that were sitting on the counter of my kitchen shook like an earthquake had awakened the land. But this wasn't an earthquake. No, this was a herd moving closer. Looking for one thing: blood.

The vampires were faster than I thought, but Vascar's words entered my mind. When facing an attack, hide and make no single sound.

My legs dragged me inside, and just like the many houses out here at the Wastelands, there was a hatch underneath the dining table. Shoving the heavy thing away, I ripped the carpet from the floor.

The silver handle reflected a part of the moonlight as I grasped it. Opening the dark, small room, I hopped inside and closed the hatch.

Right on time.

Like a tornado ready to destroy the house, the vampires entered through the windows and the doors. There were even some of them on the roof as I listened to their heavy weight shifting around. Glass shattered around the place. Furniture was thrown everywhere. With the dagger in my hand, I covered my lips.

I closed my eyes, trying to regulate my heartbeat as I sat still as possible. But they snapped open as slow footsteps wandered around the house. A frown moved my eyebrows.

This wasn't a vampire. Perhaps a familiar, but that would be very likely. Vampires never took them on a hunt. So what was standing in my house?

I moved my hands away from my mouth and got up from my position. Stretching out, I touched the shuttle. Ready to push it open, I felt the wooden feeling disappear from my fingertips. The shuttle flew away.

A tall shadow towered over me. Black like the clothes this person was wearing. A dark hat rested on top, casting darkness over the man's features.

It was back, that feeling that drew me closer. So he was the night, the thing that kept me awake for the past two years. I pulled myself up. Red hair flowed over my shoulders to my lower back while he knelt. His eyes, golden, fell to the swell of my breasts created by my corset before they found my own green orbs.

He licked his lips as a small gasp escaped me. I couldn't believe it.

Two years of mourning were all for nothing. He was here. My Priest, my man, my love. Him and not him. He changed; a darkness had taken over him.

"Vascar," I breathed out. Still not believing what I saw, I reached for his lips. My thumb glided over them, and I felt something hard. Seeing the question on my face, he grinned, showing his enlarged canines.

"Hello, darling," Vascar said, grasping my hand with his. Pulling me up and out of the shelter, he pressed me against his broad chest. His face disappeared into my hair. He was smelling me. His teeth scraped the skin of my throat before pulling back. Gold stared back at me, glowing in the darkness. Everything quieted down around. The vampires were leaving.

"Finally," his rough voice broke the silence. "Finally, I found you."

---

Silver Vale had calmed her, but only just. She still paced. She still snarled. She was still short with Vascar.

He was given the names of two more reservations, an abandoned railway, and four days.

It wasn’t enough time. The reservations were far out beyond the dunes and he’d promised Margaret he’d return in five days– he had only hours left to fulfill said promise. And he had yet to hunt since he’d last seen her. But the queen still paced and so Vascar acquiesced. He silently left the hive, the queen’s sightless face fixed on him.

His hesitance had not gone amiss.

As Vascar made his way back across the wastelands, across the dead plains and towards Margaret’s property, the queen began to ponder. She thought perhaps she’d been pushing him too far for too long; demanding too much of such a young thing. After all, it’d only been a few a few months since he’d crossed the threshold between man- between Priest- and vampire.

She also thought perhaps she’d imagined it. Vascar had been increasingly forthright, becoming comfortable in his newfound freedom and taking full advantage of it. He enjoyed doing things in his own time. The queen resolved to think he was simply becoming his own being, and reminded herself that while she promised him freedom it was from both the Clergy and her. She’d give him no deadline next time. He’d not failed her yet; she did not believe he would do so now.

But the queen didn’t know that when Vascar departed, he left for a property just outside of Farspring – one that was seeing far more visitors than usual.

Margaret met him on the front porch and Vascar relished the sight of her, waiting for him.

As he neared, however, he could see the tension in her shoulders and the shadows under her eyes. Her two-handed grip on the shotgun was firm, and Vascar noticed the boots she still wore peaking out from under her long night dress. She’d been expecting someone- someone else.

Vascar stopped at the bottom porch step, her scent wafting over him. He searched for that of another as his hunger and his possessiveness began to stir, and he kept his distance. But he could smell only her and the dusty plains surrounding the house.

“Sheriff came by the other day,” Margaret said, her voice quiet.

Vascar’s gaze quickly searched her for any sign of injury. He saw only her exhaustion and how her hair had fallen from its braid, disheveled. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she nodded, her voice trembling as she spoke. “But he was here- on my property, he just walked right on like he was welcome here-”

Vascar quickly realized it wasn’t fear that had gripped Margaret. It was anger. He could see it in the way her brow furrowed, her lips turned down,and her knuckles whitened as she gripped the shotgun tighter.

“-he was lookin’ for you.” She said. “Askin’ me questions, if I’d seen anythin’ or anyone strange. He was more concerned about what’d happened to Remy and his boys than the stranger that came through here- not that that ain’t suprisin’.”

“Has anyone else been through?”

“No.”

Again, Vascar’s gaze traveled her form as he carefully closed the distance between them. His movements were slow and controlled, restrained – and Margaret noticed. But she allowed him to gently pry the shotgun from her hands as she peered up at him.

“What did you tell him?” Vascar asked, his fingers barely skimming her jaw.

“Only about the stranger,” Margaret met his gaze with her own, just making out a faint marking that seemed to trail from the bridge of his nose to the brim of his hat. “I didn’t tell him about you. I won’t- I won’t lose anyone else to that family.”

Vascar paused at that, at the reminder of her unexplained hatred for the sheriff and his father. He wondered if now she’d tell him, but aloud he only promised her: “You won’t.”

Still, Margaret saw the curiosity in his eyes. And as she thought of the last five days, of how she had thought of him and longed to see him again, she thought of the mystery that still surrounded him. With his return to her property, so returned the ache to know him and she made the decision to bare her truth first. Her shoulders drooped slightly and without another word, she turned and led him inside the house.

Like every time he’d came before, she offered him a drink; tonight, he accepted. As Margaret set a second glass on the kitchen counter – a bottle of whiskey and another glass already poured but untouched – Vascar set the shotgun against the cabinets and took his seat at the table. She took the one opposite him just as she had the first time they’d spoken, but the similarities ended there.

Whereas before she sat a curious woman, her gaze traveling him and her lips curving flirtatiously, she kept her eyes and her hands on the glass in front of her. She was quiet for a moment, unsure of where to start but wanting Vascar to know. She wanted him to know her, in the way she wanted to know him: intimately, as she believed no one else did.

“His name was Jeremy,” she started, her voice catching on his name. She briefly attempted to recall the last time she’d said it aloud.

Vascar watched her patiently, silently recognizing the pain she had carried and carefully hidden from him before. It reminded him of his own- of the pain he’d felt when he realized his brother had let go, and that he’d been left behind. Even as the scent of her smothered him, he would allow her the time she needed to speak.

He watched as she pulled on the chain hanging under her night dress, withdrawing the gold band that matched her own. Even in the house’s dim lighting, it shined as she held it between her fingers.

“We were barely married a year when we moved out here,” she spoke softly. “His brother- his friend, Jay- his men found clean water on the land and they were gonna profit together. Jeremy would farm it, Jay would deliver it.”

Margaret let the ring slip through her fingers, landing gently against her sternum. “Only I told you how Red wants the land, and he wanted it then too. There ain’t another property like it ‘round here.”

For a brief moment, their gazes met before she glanced down again. The ring still in sight, her hands instead found loose purchase around her glass and her own band gave a quiet ‘clink’ against it.

“Red hounded us from the moment we stepped foot on the land,” she continued. “He hounded us when I fell pregnant a few months later and he continued to do so after she was born. He even sent his boys to the schoolhouse- I taught there, little Sarah wrapped up against my chest.”

This time, when Margaret looked up she held onto the golden gaze before her. It was unwavering, steady as she spoke and he listened. Margaret drew strength from it.

“They’d follow me to and from, and eventually they’d just walk in in the middle of class. Parents started taking their kids to work- they didn’t want them ‘round Red’s boys and I couldn’t blame them.

I’d supported Jeremy. He and Jay, and Jay’s men, they’d protect us he said- always put our safety and well-bein’ first. But Red’s boys became violent.”

The thought of it- of anyone harming Margaret or her family- it pulled a snarl from Vascar, his lips curling ever so slightly as he attempted to maintain his composure.

“We tried to make peace. Jeremy offered Red everything, save for us leavin’ the land. He offered every business deal he could think of, even signin’ the land over to Red if he’d agree to let us farm it. But by then word had spread and Red-”

Finally, Margaret’s voice failed her and she choked. She let her head fall, no longer able to hold Vascar’s gaze as he pieced together what happened. Red had made an example of them, and now Margaret was alone.

Rage and disgust flashed in gold, and the glass he’d been holding shattered in his grip.

Vascar shook the shards from his hand, dried it on his pants and – ignoring every hunger-pained desire – moved to kneel before Margaret. Her shoulders shook as he took her face in his hands, gently wiping the tears that had begun to fall.

“He razed the place,” she spoke between gasps, her brown eyes searching his frantically. “Red brought all his boys and he burned the whole property to the ground, and he burned Jeremy and little Sarah, too. And ol’ Clayton, Sr., with his sheriff’s hat and his sheriff’s star only watched as they left me in the dirt.”

In an attempt to retain control of himself, Vascar said nothing. He kept his hands on her in what he hoped was a comforting weight but his mind was racing; his lungs were constricting. Her scent was taunting him and his anger nearly screaming and he wanted nothing more than to find the man responsible for causing her such pain.

But Margaret had quietly asked him again for the Sheriff’s father – alive. Her sobs had began to subside, her breathing slowing and she met Vascar’s gaze once more.

“I know it won’t bring them back,” she said. “But I s’pose I’d feel better, puttin’ a bullet in ol’ Clayton, Sr’s head.”

Vascar hummed, seeing her eyes harden once again. When he thought back to their previous interactions – how she’d held her ground at every intrusion, spoken to men in ways they’d not dared speak to her, kept her firearm always at the ready – he had no doubt she’d always been strong. Jeremy may have wanted the land, may have even tried to keep it, but it was Margaret who took it back.

It cost Jay half a dozen men, she told him. But they’d taken half of Remy’s down with them and ran the others off the land before sunset. She harbored no regret over the actions she’d taken that day or since, Vascar could see that clearly. And as he continued to kneel before her as he listened, something told him she’d stand beside him even knowing his truth.

“This is all I have of him,” Margaret said, turning the band hanging from her neck loosely over her fingers again. “And of my Sarah. I couldn’t even bury them – I had nothing left of them.”

And once more, the ring slipped from her grasp. She carefully raised her hand to Vascar, her fingers trailing his jaw and over his stubble. When she spoke again, Margaret made sure to steady her voice.

“Don’t leave me behind like he did.”

Vascar’s own hand covered hers, pressing her palm to his lips and sealing a kiss there. “I won’t.”

**

A/N || I literally started writing this chapter in February, wrote two days in April, one in May, and finally finished it in June... Then I forgot it in my drafts, waiting to be formatted and posted. 🤦🏻‍♀️ I am a mess. And I have no excuse. Hope y’all enjoyed? 😅 (gif: @vulcanprincess-deactivated20120)