A Sanguinary Rose (Complete)

Why did she cut herself?

The blood gave me power, gave me sustenance, and now most importantly, direction. Had Anja known this? Cut herself on purpose so I’d know how to go after her? Or did she slip by accident and slam her wrist? Or was she attacked and abducted?

Such were the questions swarming in my head as my heels clicked on the gravel in the dead of midnight, under the pale gaze of the waning moon. Such wan light allowed me to peer in the darkness among the pine trees and pierce through it into the deeper abodes of the forest. The wind bit into my skin, but ever since I became a vampire, I’ve grown comfortable to the cold.

The scent filled my nostrils and caused my mouth to water and my fangs to spring forth. They were predatory reactions, but my intentions were the exact opposite. I feared losing the trail because despite having my sense of smell enhanced, it still wasn’t as strong as a bloodhound’s.

It led me beyond Griffin Nest Avenue and away from the suburbs where mostly everyone at school lived, along Farpoint Boulevard and the beaming giant pumpkin in the town square, down Rafferty’s as streets became rundown and desolate, and the road finally opened out to the more provincial and rustic parts of town.

These were the roads that led straight to the deserted, boarded-up, rotten-with-decay-up-to-the-beams area that people fittingly named Blightpoint: Shut off from the rest of civilization, it was a melting pot of rust, debris, and leaning buildings whose windows peered into yawning darkness. You were more likely to get arrested from coming near more than anything, though. Nobody went into Blightpoint by their own free will, and people in general would rather avoid talking about the ill-shadowed district.

Fortunately, Anja seemed to have run off to more countryside, the outlines of treetops and hills looming in the dark. Even then, my skin crawled thinking of her body being dragged off into a crummy alley. In hindsight I sympathized with Dad not wanting me out of the house late into the evening.

As I strayed further from the heart of Farpoint, houses became leaner and meaner and spread further apart from each other, interspersed with boarded-up shops and businesses. Their windows were sunken pits and their decrepit doors discouraged any admittance. Halloween decorations became sparse, and mother nature took its part in covering up the buildings with lichen and overgrowing yards with shrubs.

The poster of a missing boy on the side of an unkempt fishing shop gave me pause on my tracks. The satin paper was cracked and stained. His face looked young, innocent, and he was all but forgotten, left to fade away in a sun-bleached and wind-swept portrait. A second one, from an adult woman, was pinned feet away from it. These grew exponentially in number the further I went from my usual commute.

I rounded a corner on my way to the lake, and the feeling of someone staring me in the back of my neck intensified to the point I could no longer ignore it. A shudder slithered down my back. Eyes, scores of them, unblinking, gazed at me in the dark, as though splashed into a macabre frame… It was a wall overlain with missing people’s faces, probably over fifty of them—people whose lives were swallowed up in the tide that is Farpoint’s occult insecurity and lost forever to the cruel ebb of time. If not for the context, you might think they were nothing but graffiti.

How do so many simply vanish? Why isn’t this being talked about?

My clacking on the gravel threatened to send my anxiety skyrocketing, so I hurried out of those streets. I couldn’t let Anja become one of them.

At last, the scent was finally getting stronger. And with it, I heard sniffling. I found Anja perched on a swing with rusty chains that creaked with every little motion. Flickering streetlamps lit that playground of a bygone era. The forest had crept in and the underbrush made its way under the monkey bars. Rot cracked the pavement, brittle grass sprouting from its crevices.

I sat on the swing next to her and said nothing. Her eyes were red and puffy, and a gash on her wrist ran bloody, now dried up on her skin. A few spots of blood had fallen on her sapphire-colored skirt.

Sadness cracked her voice. “How d-did you find me?”

“The blood on your wrist,” I said as a response, and segued it into a question. “What happened?”

She lifted her arm and looked at the wound. “I thought… I thought… It’s not the same.”

“Not the same as what?” The creaking got under my skin. My spine was tingling by then. I scanned around the desolate area. “How long have you been here?”

“About five minutes before you found me.”

We sat in silence. The wind whistled through branch and brush, and goose bumps covered my skin; Anja’s as well.

She broke the spell. “D-do you think he likes her?” It took me a second to realize she meant Oliver and Melanie.

Whether I told the truth or lied, I’d only make it worse, so I thought on it for a moment.

“How long have you two known each other?”

“Since first grade. We always had sort of a pull towards each other. He was the only boy who’d play dolls with me. Besides, we were both fans of Star Wars figurines. He told me he’d never known girls who played with those. It got to a point where his dad got really furious once he walked in on us and saw Oliver with one of my dolls in his hands… even then as a second grader he treated him so harshly.”

“His dad? You mean… King Belial?” I couldn’t picture a King of Hell slapping his son’s wrist for playing with action figures while keeping a straight face. It was surreal. “Anyway, I digress. How long have you had feelings for him?”

“I-I’m not sure. Since seventh or eighth, I guess?”

“I’m assuming he doesn’t even know. You need to be about as subtle as a rock smashing a window. If you want a change, be that change. Tell him how you feel. The worst that could happen is he says no, and nothing changes. If he’s into you, maybe he’s too shy to tell you. You know how he is. Now also the worst that could happen is he says yes, and I’ll just be a third wheel for you guys.”

That made her giggle. Mission accomplished.

I couldn’t help gawking at the flesh wound on her wrist, horrified that it worried and attracted me at the same time. “That looks serious. We have to get you to the hospital before it festers.”

There was a sly glint to her eye when Anja turned to me. “You can disinfect it.”

It took me aback, though it didn’t really surprise me. “Was this some kind of ploy?”

Anja looked down, dejected. “No. But it’s simpler and cheaper than going to the hospital.”

“Disinfect it, how?”

“Sucking out the germs and cleansing with saliva. It has to be vampire’s saliva.” She held out the wounded wrist. “It stings. But you can ease the pain.”

It was a tug-of-war in my mind. No matter how hard I tried to see it in a bad light, somehow the pros outweighed the cons. I held her arm and sank my fangs in the torn flesh just as I had done before. Her blood was heady and rich, and it dropped me into a blissful stupor.

Anja gave a whimper, and then a sigh of relief. She loved what I was doing to her, and I couldn’t understand why. Her hand brushed my hair with gentle fingers while my fangs clutched her wrist and its elixir filled me with new life.

I didn’t know how much time went by, but it felt like an eternity while I was getting my kicks. She let go of my hair and I heard her suck in an abrupt lungful of air, but I ignored the signs. She drummed on my shoulder and cried: “Scarlett!” I thought I had crossed the line and drank a dangerous portion and was about to beg for her forgiveness when I saw utter terror etched on her face.

They were trick-or-treaters, or that’s what they pretended to be. I counted seven, some wearing monster masks, some in full costume, and a couple of them in casual clothing. They didn’t stand together or form a group. What sent chills through my bones was the way they stood dispersed and how they stared in dead silence, like statues that ceased to move when you noticed them. One stood in the middle of the road, two watched us from the edges of the woods, another took his position under the lamplight, yet three others surrounded the decaying wooden castle with slides and chutes. Their slit eyes glowed in the darkness.

My voice choked. “Stay with me…”

Anja was too petrified to move or say anything.

They couldn’t possibly be vampires. Or were there facets of our metabolism I still didn’t understand? The fact was I couldn’t cope with these unknown threats. My human self would’ve broken down in a fit of panic and despair. Our only hope was to unleash my demon in full.

A furious scarlet shade washed over my hair. I hopped off the swing and raised my voice, and it sounded as though I had shouted in the middle of a funeral. “Carry on, people. There are plenty others.”

They took a step forward. I ground my teeth and seized Anja by the arm, digging my nails into her skin. She got up, and I held her close like my prized possession. “This one’s mine, got it?” Yet another step forward. I pulled Anja closer and leaned into her neck, poised to bite down, sniffing the flesh and the blood flowing within. The vampires took up a slow walk toward us. “Don’t come between me and my prey.”

“Scarlett…” Anja said, quivering under my grip. “Please…”

“They’re not letting up. Help me,” I whispered into her ear, still poised to bite her. “We can do it.”

“I’ve never been in a fight!”

“Me neither.”

I knew she agreed because now tawny fur covered the length of her arms. Her hands reshaped into paws. Long cat ears sprouted from her temples, and a thick furry tail sprang from under her blue skirt. Whiskers flickered and her pupils slitted over her recognizably human features. She hissed between feline teeth. That’s where the transformation stopped—halfway through. If she’d felt bold, she could’ve gone trick-or-treating as a Thundercat and fooled most people with genuine looking ‘prosthetics.’

The vampire with the Japanese fox mask lunged first, arms outstretched, reaching for me. I ducked aside, drew back my fist, and retaliated with all the strength I could muster, leaving it numb—I knew I’d done something right because the mask shattered, and the man sailed up in the air in a spiral flight. As soon as his back met the pavement, he was back on his feet, stumbling but resolute, without a sign of having suffered any pain. Deadpan eyes stared out at me. But I was ready for him—the adrenaline coursing through me sent my senses into overdrive and dulled the pain from my bleeding fist.

“There’s too many of them,” Anja said, her voice shaky. She was nimbler than me—quick to evade, duck, and dash; it seemed second nature to her. Her claws burgeoned out of their sheaths, and I felt sorry for anyone who would be on their receiving end.

When the vampires wearing the ghoul and werewolf masks rushed her, she narrowly eluded their grasping fingers, ducking under and sliding out and away from them. A swipe of her claws at his face and the ghoul’s mask tore with four big gashes, drawing blood from his jowl.

His face bloody from my blow, the man came at me in a bull rush and, using the flight from his momentum, I heaved him past me into a tree like he weighed nothing. A second attacker came up behind my back and seized me in a crushing armlock. Screaming like my life depended on it, I broke his grip with sheer strength, turned, and slammed my palms into his chest, the force of which propelled him high up and onto the crusty sandbox.

The distance between Anja and me had grown significantly as three of them surrounded her. She spun, dodged, hissed, and brandished her claws for deterrence, but they wouldn’t let up.

The other four coordinated to block all my cardinal directions. But the rush of the fight and seeing Anja in desperate conditions made me reckless, so when they advanced on me, I pounced on the first one to come close to my face, the one wearing a Michael Myers mask. While he lay defenseless, I drew up my foot to stamp his face into the ground. As it came down, a hard blow left me breathless, and I found myself staring at the moon, gasping, feeling as though I’d never breathe again.

“Help,” Anja cried, but I could only watch as two more vampires joined the other three in restraining her and her swiftness faltered. They made us kneel on the grass while clutching our necks. Her sapphire skirt had torn a little, baring more of her calves, and my mom’s dress had two tears on my hip.

I looked up at our captors. In the heat of the fight I’d failed to notice how mechanical their movements looked, how straight and wrong their gait was. Every time that they should’ve flinched or cried out from pain, they brushed it off. And not once did they ever utter a word among themselves. They only stared off into the distance through their masks, their breaths wafting away. If they were vampires, then there was something truly wrong with them. They were like zombies. Not bloody, brain-eating zombies, but…

“We’re sorry to interrupt your feeding, little girl,” a lilting voice sang out, thick with a Mediterranean accent. I heard footsteps rustling the grass as it approached. “You two will have to do for now.”

Two of the vampires stepped aside. The man took a knee in front of us. Up close his features were striking, his wild mane of hair the color of burnt wood. Deep-set olive eyes studied me with contempt, and when his large mouth tugged back with a dark smile, I saw his fangs poking over his lower lip. He wore a black gabardine coat that reached down to his thighs.

He took my chin and turned my head sideways. “What a pretty thing. And what a waste of skin. You don’t belong in this world.”

“Careful, I bite.”

The man squeezed my cheek hard. “My father liked to do that, too. He’s a pile of dust now.” He took a cursory glance at Anja. “Isn’t that what you were doing to your friend?”

“It’s not what it looks like. I asked her to do it,” Anja blurted out. “Please, sir, it’s my fault.”

“You don’t make friends with a vampire. Else she’ll be plunging the knife in your back when you least expect it.”

A scoff escaped my lips. “That’s rich.”

“Don’t let the fangs fool you. I’m not vamp scum like you,” the man waved at our captors, his lips tugging back with disdain, “or like these… drudges.”

He stood up, snapped his fingers, and gestured for the vampires to follow him. They yanked us to our feet and shoved us along the desolate street. Anja’s kitten heels came off in the scuffle and she padded after me, still squirming under the vampire’s grasp. Her captor clutched her neck, which probably disabled her from transforming any further.

We were completely disarmed.

Before long, we left familiar territory into the unknown. The man leading the pack cut across tall grass and made us follow him through a rabbit trail in the woods. Shortly after the first wall of trees, all hints of artificial light were blotted out. The moon, curved and thin, lit our path through the darkness and down a winding slope of brush and thorn, over rocks and protruding roots. The sharp chirping of insects sounded as though they were crawling on my shoulders. Shadows flitted overhead, tiny bats darting from one tree to another.

Here in the forest the wind cut into my skin like blades of ice. Regardless of how much resistance I might build up, there comes a point where you crumble to the biting cold. Even Anja, mostly covered in fur, shivered violently, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. She lost her footing to a crooked root as they shoved us along, whimpered, and her captor jerked her back to her trembling feet.

Eventually, we emerged from the woods. They took us to the lake bordering Farpoint in the south. My thoughts scrambled as logic failed to answer the question: Why here? The muddy waters came into view. The whistling wind broke their surface and made it restless. The moon shone down on the lake in a distorted melding of white and black, painting the wave crests with its light. Quayside, the pier stretched out into the lake and formed a ring, turning back on itself; it was one of the more popular venues in Farpoint.

There was a group of people gathered ashore, packed together on the dock. Their outlines stood out sharply against the black background: the hills and the starry sky. They made no moves and uttered no words, except look out over the lake. Slit eyes flickered in the darkness. The sight made my skin crawl. It held a kind of indescribable terror of the unknown, a dread evoked by the uncanny and surreal.

Anja dug her bare heels on the ground, a scream escaping her throat before she was muffled. Our captors were strong creatures, unthinking and merciless machines, so we had no choice but to keep walking.

The man in the gabardine stepped on the quay, the old floorboards creaking slightly under his weight. Restless water lapped at the shafts underneath. He looked up at the sky. He was no vampire, despite the fangs in his mouth. Even if he hadn’t told us, I’d still know, somehow.

The mob looked on in silence, dead eyes staring off in the distance, undisturbed by our arrival—statues on their plinths. From a glance I counted about forty of people—not people, no. They were machines, zombies awaiting instructions from their master. Among them, one person stood out the more I looked, not because I recognized her face, but because her sweater looked so familiar.

I felt as though a fist had closed around my throat. The sweater was pink and had the ruined image of a white bunny. The color was now dull, and the fabric soiled. Out of the crowd, her eyes were the only ones that met mine. Her expression was deadpan and callous as she pushed through the mob toward us. She stopped a few feet from me.

The leader turned to look at us and his mouth hung open in surprise. “My, did you sire this one?”

“No.” No way.

The man chuckled. “Vampires fear their sires. This one looks devoted to you, as seldom is the case.”

Her lips were parted. Smudges of dirt stained her cheeks and forehead. Her cold eyes drilled into my soul.

Anja’s frightened eyes were transfixed on me. “What’s he talking about?”

“It wasn’t me. I was trying to help her. She was being attacked, and I went after her.” The girl’s dead expression was unmoved. She said nothing. “What’s wrong with her? With all of them?”

The man ignored me and snapped his fingers. The girl turned around and joined the crowd. “Speak the words. It’s time.”

Four of our captors joined him at the quay, standing two by two at his sides. What came out of their mouths was no human language. Their voices became guttural and deep-throated, crowing in words that contained few to no vowels. The four took up the unearthly chant in unison.

“Anja, look.” The moon, one moment a shard of silver, engorged into a full one within seconds, like an eye opening in the sky. Its light washed over to crimson, a live throbbing red that painted the earth and the woods and tinted the water into a lake of blood. The water became still, unbroken by waves or ripples, like a mirror, reflecting only the red giant hovering in the sky.

The leader snapped his fingers again. “Deliver the harvest.”

The mob of vampires formed rows of five, enough to walk abreast down the pier. Forty of them marched down the creaking wood planks, unquestioning, resolute.

Driven by commitment, curiosity, fear, call it what you will, I went after them. One way or another, that girl was my responsibility.

“Scarlett! Don’t leave me, please,” I heard Anja’s cry as I dashed past the leader’s side.

The man chuckled and held my captor by the shoulder. “Don’t. I want to see what she does.”

My heart was racing. One thought kept me dogged on their heels. What the hell are they going to do?

The first row in the column reached the inner edge of the circular pier. The massive blood moon greeted them beneath in the water’s reflection, like a polished mirror.

I held my breath.

Their heads at the front tilted forward and disappeared, followed by the noise of water splashing. Five by five, the vampires at the front took a step forward into the stillness of the air and plunged into the murky depths and the image of the blood moon.

The girl was on the last row. I grabbed her hand and plucked her out. “Come with me, I can help you.”

Her eyes were hard like stones. She yanked her arm from me and took another step.

I lunged for her hand again as her body slanted forward. My fingers brushed with hers. Even with my inner demon at its peak, the sight sent shock waves down to my core, rooting me to the spot and transfixing my gaze to the rippling water where the girl had plunged, never to return.

The chanting stopped.

The water broke its polished surface, and the wind continued to disturb it.

Its reflection changed, too. I looked up and the full crimson moon was now a thin, curving sliver of light hanging in the sky.

***

My mind was swimming, probably not unlike those drowned in the water.

The thumping of my heart felt as though it’d burst out of my chest as I tried to process the ghastly images burned into the back of my eyes. My knees buckled, hitting the wood planks at the edge of the pier. One look and nobody would be able to tell forty people floated in its depths. Whenever a person drowned, the bubbles come back to the surface to tell the tale of their frantic screams and clutching of their throat. Though nothing came forth.

And what did it all achieve?

The girl I allegedly sired—how was it possible I didn’t remember? Surely that’s something I’d recall. It couldn’t be true.

I doubled over and gripped my head between my arms. I tasted copper in mouth, perhaps having bitten my tongue in the heat of the moment.

I never meant for any of this to happen.

But I couldn’t stay like this. Anja was counting on me. It was the one thought spurring me forward. I wiped my eyes and puffed my chest up, hoping for any steel left in me, even a fleck to give us a fighting chance. I needed my demon to supply me with fury and strength, now more than ever.

The four thralls watched me trudge inland while waiting for orders from their leader. Anja was kneeling on the grass, and her three captors still surrounded her, their blank stare lost in space.

“I think I know who you are,” the man said when I was closer. He pointed at me. “You’re the Warlock’s protégé. I can see why. You’ve got a fancy for putting your fangs where they don’t belong, don’t you?”

“I’ll tell Mandala what you did to us.”

The man burst out in laughter. “You think you have leverage against me? I am Caspian De Rosa, the Vampire Whisperer, the one who slew the great and terrible Marcello De Rosa and ended his decades-long reign of terror in Milan.” He flashed me a smile. “What have you done, bambina?”

“Ask me the same question when I’m your age.”

He chuckled. “I like your spirit, but I’m not so old either.” His face darkened. “It’s a shame you won’t live that long. Barely a neophyte and already craving innocent blood.” He tutted. “Once you begin down that path, there’s no coming back for you.”

“I do not crave blood. My friend’s hurt her wrist. I don’t understand what just happened or why we had to see that, but we’ll be on our way.”

“No, on the contrary, you’ll finish what you started. But this time you’ll go all the way,” Caspian said, stealing a glance at Anja. “And then she’ll float, too.”

Two of the masked vampires locked my arms behind my back, their nails clawing into my skin. “No!” The yelp escaped from Anja’s lips when they jerked her to Caspian’s side and forced her down to her knees. There was a sudden sharp pain in my scalp as someone grabbed and pulled from my hair, dragging me over until I stood next to Anja.

“I’ll do it myself,” Adrenaline shot up through my body. Fear shook me from head to toe. “I’ll do it so long as you explain what just happened.”

“You’re not in a position to bargain,” Caspian said. There was a pinch of amusement in his voice. “Believe me, you don’t want to know. It’d be too much for your mind.”

“Because you care so much about me.”

“The longer you stall, the more painful I shall make it for the both of you.” Caspian drew up to my side and produced a hand crossbow from his gabardine coat. He nocked a bolt, cocked the string, and took aim at Anja. “We can keep this going all night, as long as neither of you die.” She recoiled from the weapon two inches from her face, but three masked vampires behind her formed an impenetrable wall.

The anger spilled into my voice. It made me shake and nearly broke my voice. “You hate vampires so much, why do you help in making more?”

“Believe me, up to me, we’d be doing things very differently. But this, let’s call it a necessary evil—an inevitability.”

Caspian flicked his crossbow as a command. My captors thrust me forward and then Anja and I were face to face, her eyes puffy but unable to shed any more tears. She must have seen the hopelessness in mine because she caught her breath.

They shoved me on her, their crushing strength on the back of my head. Another grabbed Anja’s short hair and yanked her back to expose her neck. Even if I wholeheartedly refused to take the bite, my mouth watered from the notion, the temptation.

I slipped my arm from their lock. My first idea was to thrash wildly, hoping to free the other. Instead, I brought it up to my face and bit down hard, fangs sliding into my skin so effortlessly it didn’t hurt at first. There was a prickle, and then the pain was gone, as though analgesics had been shot into my bloodstream.

Anja’s eyes widened in shock. My captor took my elbow and pulled hard to unclench my jaws.

“A vampire that refuses to be fed. Never thought I’d live to see it.” I felt Caspian’s breath on my ear. “But those who make my job difficult tend to make me irrationally angry.”

As he said that, a pinch of pain bloomed on my back next to my spine, like a sharp pointy knife pressing the tip against my skin. Then the pain burgeoned like a lance spearing my body. Breath escaped my lungs, and I gasped for air, letting go of my bloodied arm to hang limply at my side. I tasted a surge of coppery blood coming up my throat and my eyes stung with tears.

Anja let out a scream that might have left me deaf had one of her captors not swaddled her mouth in his arm.

The pain gave another leap as Caspian withdrew. I cried out and fell to my knees on the grass.

“We could keep this going or end it right away,” he said between gritted teeth, and I could sense the venom exuding from his voice. My captor yanked me to my feet and Caspian pressed the pointy end of the wooden stake on my breast. “You think you’re indispensable. Give me a reason to show you otherwise.”

“Just do it. Listen to him, please,” Anja yelled at me.

It shamed me to admit, but I had gone far and beyond the lengths of defiance. What Anja didn’t realize is that I would’ve done it rather than be staked through the heart.

I picked up a voice in the distance, carried downwind. “I see them. There they are.” We spotted Oliver careening downhill, bulling his way through branches and underbrush, still in tuxedo and bowtie, his face scrunched up from exertion. Behind him, Alan and Mr. Royce followed.

A hopeful smile crept into Anja’s face. A distressing thought harried the back of my mind—had they arrived a minute later, they might have caught me in the (coerced) act and found Anja a vampire.

Despite the throbbing pain in my lower back, I found the strength to twist free and fall on my fours to crawl toward Anja, blood dribbling down my arm.

Caspian took off the opposite way at a brisk pace. I could hear him speak quietly, though his words were obscured by the blood pounding in my ears.

In the darkness two lights came on, glowing gold like sizzling embers.

“Oliver, wait,” Mr. Royce shouted after him, holding out his arm as if to stop him.

“Back away from my friends.” Like a pitcher, he pulled back his arm, gathered the force behind the throw, and hurled fire from his fingertips. The flames mustered on his palm, and they sprang forth in a fireball that hurtled in an arc clearly aimed at Anja’s captors.

It sputtered off in the lake.

The vampires made no move to attack them, as though still waiting for orders.

Mr. Royce wheezed for air, struggling to keep up. The anger made him cough. “Are you insane? Watch the girls.”

There came a white blinding radiance in the night, swathing Alan’s entire body. White eagle-like wings outstretched several feet to either side, and along with the downhill momentum, they lifted him off the ground. He glided soundlessly for a moment, and then slammed feet first against one of the masked vampires, sending him tumbling into the water.

“Cover your eyes,” he told me without a second glance.

I barred my face with my good arm just as the aura surrounding him surged with a blast of light that left all our captors reeling from going blind.

They let go of Anja, and she bolted toward me. “Are you okay?” She caught her breath. “He stabbed you. It looks bad. Oh God, if you were human, you’d be dying.”

“Check my dress out. Mom’s going to kill me.”

Alan took the chance to turn them to dust one by one with a spear of solid light.

Oliver landed a fireball on the last vampire, and he went rolling on the grass until he crumbled into an ash heap. Never once did they utter a word or a cry of pain.

Anja helped me stand. My eyelids began to close and my knees to give way. My arm felt numb and itchy and it dangled at my side. The pain in my back wouldn’t let me walk over five steps before it doubled me over. I felt my red dress sticky against my skin.

“Thank the Powers, are you guys all right?” Oliver asked, then flinched when he saw my wound. “Holy shit. Come on, let’s get you both out of here.” He offered me his arm. I stood back up and coiled my arm around his neck for support.

“You, stop!” Mr. Royce shouted, moving past us, and held his golden pocket watch up.

Caspian had snuck his way to the edge of the woods and seemed to have stopped mid-stride feet away from the bordering brushes, facing into the darkness among the trees. Mr. Royce had him under a stasis spell.

Caspian spoke. Only his mouth moved to form the words. “Careful who you tangle with.”

“Watch out.” Alan grabbed Mr. Royce’s arm and yanked him back. I couldn’t tell what the problem was, and I cursed aloud when the spell on Caspian broke and he fled into the forest.

That’s when I saw them—when I saw the dark metal sword that came a hair’s breadth to cleaving off the teacher’s outstretched arm.

Their footsteps slid over the grass, quiet as a cat in the night, their blades soundless and fleeting as an arrow hissing in the air. They were willowy, built off pure sinew and corded muscle. Dark leather uniforms and a black beret gave them concealment in the darkness. Engraved on their arms and their beret was the sigil of a thrush holding a sword in salute. They looked human, except for the piercing gold irises in their eyes and the wisps of tangible darkness wreathed in their every movement.

The two knights eyed Mr. Royce as they circled us in light, preying steps.

Alan interposed between the teacher and the two soldiers. Mr. Royce raised his pocket watch again over Alan’s shoulder. Oliver let my weight fall on Anja and he, too, put himself in front of us like a shield.

I had to cover my eyes again as Alan’s aura lit up like a beacon at sea, scaring away the darkness covering their uniforms.

Mr. Royce recited a phrase of alien design under his breath, the words jarring to the ear.

The two knights darted forward, their blades leveled to skewer. Alan’s wings swung down and shot himself upward, gathering momentum, and swooped down with a powerful roundhouse kick at the knight.

The sinewy man slid under it at the last moment and came up with a swing. Alan’s wings came to the side of his face to protect him, the blade rebounding from its light. The shaft of hard light materialized to clash against the dark sword.

Mr. Royce aimed at the second knight coming down his right and cast a spell to slow him down. Oliver mustered a quick fireball and hurled it at his face. The knight dissolved into strips of shadow—a decoy.

“Behind you,” I yelled as I caught a figure appearing off the corner of my eye.

Oliver whirled to find the knight closing the gap to Mr. Royce and from his fingertips sprayed forth a curtain of flame that would’ve engulfed the attacker in its fury.

The knight retreated, but as he did, left himself vulnerable to another time spell, freezing him and rooting him to the spot. Oliver hurled again and struck the soldier’s arm and fire caught to his uniform.

Taking notice, the knight broke his deadly sparring with Alan and dashed out to his ally, shoving him off his feet and breaking the spell.

The knight grunted with pain and slid out of his blazing coat. He rose, smoking, eyes watery. With a tap on his shoulder, they scurried into the woods after Caspian.

Gone was the last drop of energy I had saved up in case I had to stand up for my defense or Anja’s. My eyes felt heavy-lidded, and once my head rolled on Anja’s shoulder before I shook myself awake.

At some point I came to, faintly aware that we were near the suburbs, getting half-carried half-dragged by Oliver and Alan. The latter kept the pocket square of his tuxedo pressed against my stab wound.

Mr. Royce exhaled. “Why on Earth are knights of Caim here in Farpoint?”

The words came to me sure as the sun rising from the east. “He called them. Caspian called them.”

“We’ll see to your wounds in the infirmary,” Mr. Royce said. “Try not to speak.”

I nodded, but the motion gave me sickness and my eyesight swam.

“What happened to your arm? It looks almost chewed off,” Oliver said, turning green from revolt.

“She did it to save me,” Anja said.

A surge of guilt mingled with my overall feeling of queasiness, which brought me to the brink of vomiting what little dinner I’d had. A mix of hatred and disgust rose from my core—a hatred directed at myself for having sired two people, almost three. I was only grateful Anja had been spared in the nick of time.