Memento Mori: A CB Story

[The Traveler]

Prologue

Virginia, 1997

There are some places in the world where the line between known and unknown blurs and fades into nebulous ambiguity. It’s as if the shroud that divides them is somehow thinner, making it easier to cross over into the shadowy netherworld. Nobody’s Bar and Grill, off the corner of Quinton Road and Brook Lane, is one such place.

Located just outside of Roanoke, the unassuming nature of Nobody’s would lead one to believe that it was simply an old diner by day, and a dive bar by night. However, unlike similar holes in the wall that in actuality had phenomenal cuisine and libations, Nobody’s was, in comparison, unremarkable. The food was edible, the drinks acceptable, and the place was only just passing code. Those familiar with Nobody’s joked that it was named as such because nobody in their right mind would go there.

At least, nobody human.

The truth was that Nobody’s Bar and Grill served primarily supernatural clientele, and was one of the few places where beings of such nature could go to relax, be themselves, and not worry about trying to hunt for their next meal - so long as they followed the rules set by the owner of Nobody’s, a rogue fey being known simply as Cardinal.

Cardinal wasn’t his true name, of course - that would be insane, giving one’s true name out all willy-nilly like humans did - but it suited a far darrig such as himself just fine. And he didn’t ask much from his clientele either: be polite, be honest, honor your word, no killing, and absolutely no cold iron. His rules made Nobody’s a place of neutrality, and Cardinal liked to keep it that way - otherwise offenders would become fresh dye for his red hat and red vest.

While vampires, hellhounds, and lycanthropes were the ones that frequented Nobody’s the most, occasionally there would be witches, other fey, and even the rare enhanced human who would visit. Only a single angel had stopped by Nobody’s once before, and that was because she had been looking for someone. Cardinal had made the mistake of holding her to his rules, and lost an eye as a result - after which, he added “angels” to the list of exceptions to his rules, alongside the fey monarchy (in the impossible chance they ever actually decided to leave their realms).

Most nights, Cardinal would see a mixed bag of supernatural folk at his bar, seated at his tables, even dancing along to the music from his jukebox. Tonight though, it was different.

House Munteanu and The Arktos, the local vampires and lycanthropes, had booked Nobody’s for the evening. They had been cagey about the details with him when he drew up the contract for them, so all Cardinal knew was that it was something about border disputes and rising tensions between the two factions, but not much else.

But if he knew Carmen Munteanu and Maximilian Shaw, they wouldn’t meet with one another without bringing some show of force. And those people, the footsoldiers of the vampire house and the lycanthrope skulk, are where Cardinal could get his information.

So long as they kept the peace.

He heard the heavy knock on the door of his establishment just as he was finishing up wiping down the bar. While the place was dingy and divey, each evening Cardinal laid his glamour magic over the place to transform it into something spectacular and unique, based on what he expected for the evening and what he was feeling in the moment. Tonight, he felt that moody was the right thing to go for.

Cardinal stopped what he was doing, and with two snaps of his fingers, the interior now looked as pristine and as aesthetically pleasing as an underground nightclub, with red, cyan, and violet mood lighting casting shadows all around as the tables and chairs shuffled themselves towards the walls to make room for a dance floor. The jukebox scratched and shifted to something more upbeat and modern, but still atmospheric.

Tossing his towel over his shoulders, Cardinal adjusted his cap, his vest, and finally his eyepatch as he walked over to the door, and opened it to greet his guests.

An attractive tawny-skinned woman with long black hair regarded him with eyes like cold jade, her crimson lips pursed in an unamused frown. A gray fur shawl draped behind her back and over her arms, and a sleeveless dress the same color as her lips hugged her figure. She was surrounded by an eclectic bunch of folk dressed in similar formal clothing.

“Carmen Munteanu, House Munteanu, welcome,” Cardinal greeted with a grin and a bow. “Your private room is ready. Your… entourage is free to roam the main floor, so long as they keep to my rules.”

“That should go without saying,” Carmen commented. At Cardinal’s own frown, she pointed out, “I don’t have to be polite until I set foot inside Nobody’s, Cardinal, so keep your distaste to yourself.”

With that, Carmen walked inside, her heels clacking against the floor, and the rest of the vampires followed suit. Carmen and two others - her lieutenants, Cardinal supposed - peeled off from the main group and went up the stairs to the room they had reserved.

Cardinal turned back just as the last vampire crossed the threshold, only to behold the large figure of Maximilian Shaw. A handsome man who looked like he enjoyed his days out in the sun, with a hooked nose and intelligent blue eyes, Cardinal could almost forgive the fact that the lycanthrope leader was bald.

“I’d apologize on her behalf, but we both know it’s wasted breath,” Max remarked in his deep voice. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather biker jacket, under which he wore a cool gray t-shirt paired with ripped jeans and combat boots. “I appreciate you letting us use your space to figure things out peacefully between our two groups.”

“It is my pleasure, Max,” Cardinal said with another small bow. Unlike with the vampires, he didn’t feel the need to remind Max and his lycanthropes of his rules - in his experience, they tended to be more behaved.

Max walked on by, followed by the rest of his similarly-dressed people, although one person stood out from the crowd: a woman with dark brown skin in a short, electric-blue dress that matched the electric-blue braids intermixed with her naturally black ones. She glanced at him with wary eyes as she entered Nobody’s.

Cardinal watched The Arktos, noting that when Max went up the stairs, the woman did not, instead remaining with the rest of the lycanthropes.

Yes. That one looked like she would talk. Or at least, Cardinal could coax her into talking.

He closed the door to his establishment and, strolling back to the bar, turned his attention to his patrons for the evening.

After the initial rush of drink and food orders (fulfilled quickly with the help of his three tiny pixie assistants), he was soon left alone at a mostly empty bar. As he cleaned a glass tankard with a white cloth, Cardinal slid his gaze from House Munteanu on one side of the place, to The Arktos on the other.

If it were any other night, Cardinal wouldn’t have batted his good eye that members from either faction were here. Well, scratch that - he probably would have cared, but mostly because the inevitable brawls the vamps and lycans got into were good entertainment, providing they didn’t get too rough or try to kill one another.

Which made it all the more strange to see so many members of both factions in the same place, at the same time, actually… behaving for once. Even if they still couldn’t bring themselves to mingle with one another.

His keen ears caught a feminine voice muttering something under her breath from the other side of the bar.

“...Makes me wonder if it was worth it.”

Perhaps now it was time to check in on the blue lycanthrope woman.

Cardinal drifted over to the edge of the bar where she sat nursing her Old Fashioned. “Worth what, if I might ask?” He prompted.

Her black eyes focused on him and narrowed as she lowered her glass to the bar surface. She remained silent… but only for a moment.

“If it was worth joining The Arktos,” she admitted. “I joined for support and camaraderie, not for their petty and cliche rivalry with… vampires.”

“Ah, I see,” Cardinal said with a nod. He set aside the glass tankard and tossed the cleaning cloth over his shoulder before leaning on the bar. “I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name?”

She paused. “...Juno Njoku."

“Well then, Juno Njoku, has it been a problem before now?”

A thoughtful look crossed Juno’s face as she swirled her drink in her hand. “Not since I joined, no,” she said. “I don’t want it to be a problem. Or for it to become a problem.”

“The question is, is this a problem you can live with? Or a problem you need to walk away from?” Cardinal tilted his head at her. “Coming from someone who’s been around for a very long time, their rivalry has always had its ups and downs, and it's always been about territory, resources - what can afford them the most secrecy to go about their ways."

He gestured to where House Munteanu stood with one long fingered hand. "Vampires need humans for their life-force- "

He gestured to where The Arktos were with his other hand. "You need space to safely roam during your transformations and for your ever-increasing numbers-"

He leaned back from the bar and stood up straight, letting his arms fall to his sides. "You get what I’m saying. But- "

Cardinal held up a single finger and leaned in slightly towards Juno, lowering his voice.

"For the leaders of House Munteanu and The Arktos to come together like this… very unprecedented, especially with tensions as high as they are right now. It worries me as an outsider looking in, and if it doesn’t already, it should worry you too.”

Juno didn’t say anything when Cardinal paused, just stared at him with a look that was equal parts pensive and troubled.

"You're quite the showman, Cardinal," she finally said in a dry tone.

He couldn’t help but allow a slim smile to cross his face as he stood up straight again.

"Well, I'm going to need to entertain myself tonight since I can't get my usual daily vampire-lycanthrope brawl," Cardinal remarked. "It's in the contract for this evening: absolutely no fighting."

"What else is in that contract of yours?" Juno asked casually, taking a drink from her Old Fashioned.

“Oh, not much that I can say beyond that. Max and Carmen are keeping it very hush-hush, and I would never dream of breaking my word. Well, actually-"

Cardinal paused for effect.

"I can say that Carmen was the one who called this meeting. Any idea why?”

He watched as Juno opened her mouth, and then closed it. Her fingernail tapped at the glass of her drink. She glanced across the bar, before looking back at him intently, and Cardinal leaned in closer.

“Just so you know, you didn't hear this from me," Juno told him sternly. "A couple of days ago… we found the bodies of some Munteanu vampires in our territory, deep in our territory. We don’t know who killed them, if it was any of us or someone else entirely. Max told us to keep it to ourselves while he sorted it out, but, maybe Carmen sent them and knew something had gone wrong when they didn’t come back?”

“What do you have that she could possibly want?” Cardinal asked, holding his chin in thought.

Rumors were abound about something that allowed The Arktos to control their transformations outside of the lunar cycle, something that they kept secret within their territory. Was that what Carmen had been after? Were those vampires a strike team, sent to recover or destroy this "something" in an attempt to weaken The Arktos? A preemptive strike to set up their total destruction at the hands of House Munteanu?

Maybe. He'd have to find a vampire to talk to next. And Cardinal doubted that this Juno would reveal a deep organizational secret like that to him, even with her misgivings about the lycanthrope skulk.

Juno shrugged and continued, answering his question. “They died underground, in a cave system. As far as I know, there’s nothing in there worth having, just a couple old tombs- ”

A crash behind her interrupted Juno, and she immediately jumped to her feet, turning her attention to the commotion. Cardinal followed her gaze.

A stranger had flung the door open, and was continuing to stumble his way inside. Cardinal couldn’t make out what he was saying, but he appeared to be in distress, clutching the top of his shoulder with one arm while the other dangled limply at his side.

Both factions had also turned their attention to the noise, watching the newcomer and carefully vetting who this person was and if he was any concern to them. None of them moved.

Juno rolled her eyes. She turned around and slammed back the rest of her drink, before throwing a few dollars down onto the bar and grabbing her purse. Cardinal carefully took the money as he watched her make her way over to the stranger.

The man locked his wide green eyes onto her as she approached. “Please, I need to find-”

He cut himself off as he hissed in pain and swayed on his feet, his blond hair falling forward to obscure his face.

Something didn’t sit right with Cardinal. He slinked his way around the bar and quickly made his way over to Juno and the stranger.

“Hey, easy, easy.” Juno caught the stranger’s shoulders and steadied him. She pulled her hands away, furrowing her brow when one of them came away bloody. “You look like you’re hurt, can you move your hand away from your shoulder?”

The stranger didn’t respond, but he didn’t move either. He just stood there, breathing heavily but raspily. Shock, probably.

With a glance at Juno, Cardinal reached forward, gingerly removing the man’s hand from his shoulder to get a better look at his injury. He could see that his shoulder was ravaged pretty bad, but-

His insides went as cold as the Unseelie queen’s heart as he made out two half-moon teeth marks on top of the stranger’s shoulder, oozing out blood.

“Shit,” Juno muttered. “Alright, this is going to sound fucked up, but after you were bit, did you drink someone else’s blood? From a wrist, maybe?”

“I don’t- maybe- I can’t breathe- my throat- hurts-”

Cardinal nearly missed it, but the stranger’s green eyes locked onto Juno’s neck.

Before Cardinal could react- before Juno even got the chance to transform- the stranger lunged forward and sank his teeth into her throat.

And then all hell broke loose.

[The Traveler]

Chapter 1

Charlie Evans pulled his truck up next to Lucky’s Palace and shifted it into park. He heaved a sigh and rubbed the back of his neck. He caught sight of himself in the rear-view mirror, noting the mess of his brown hair. He sat a little closer and fixed his middle part, finger-combing his hair to make it look a little neater around his pale pink face.

Hopefully it’s good enough for Dad, Charlie thought to himself.

He pulled his keys out of the ignition and hopped out of the truck.

As far as cities went, Roanoke wasn’t too bad, but admittedly Charlie had only spent time on the city streets in his truck, and in his new apartment. His recent move and lack of a paying job had left him with little in terms of groceries, so he had gotten to know the local pizza delivery and Lucky’s Palace very well in a short amount of time. Of the two, he figured that the Chinese restaurant would be a better place to take his dad out to lunch.

Charlie stepped on through into Lucky’s Palace. A quieter space greeted him as the glass door swung shut behind him, with large gray tile flooring, dark brown tables, chairs, and booths edged in black, and some traditional music quietly playing in the background. A hostess attended the podium in front of the entrance, but Charlie scanned the dining space first.

He caught sight of his dad, Robert Evans, seated at a two-chair table by the windows, looking at his pocket-watch. Charlie looked at his own watch on his wrist - he was only a minute late. He flashed a polite smile and gave his thanks to the hostess before heading over to the table.

“I’m not late, you know,” Charlie told his father as he sat down across from him.

Robert glanced up from his pocket watch. Without looking away from his son, he snapped it shut and returned it to his jacket pocket.

“I didn’t say you were,” Robert answered. “But you might want to adjust your watch. It’s fifteen past noon.”

“According to your watch,” Charlie said.

“And to the clock on the wall,” Robert added, nodding towards the inner wall of the restaurant.

Charlie followed his line of sight and found the clock Robert had been referring to. He watched wordlessly as the minute hand ticked just past the number three.

“Yeah, well…” Charlie began, shifting in his seat and looking away. “I’ve been busy with moving and all.”

Robert gave Charlie a reproachful look, but before either of them could continue, a waitress came by their table to take their drink order. Once she left, Charlie turned his attention back to his father.

“How was the drive over here?” He asked.

“Quiet,” Robert answered. “Not many people were on the roads until I got closer to the city. How was the move from Richmond?”

“Long,” Charlie said with his own one-word answer. “Had a few roommates and some friends help me pack up, but I basically had to unpack on my own. Some of my new neighbors took pity on me though, and helped me move some of the heavier stuff.”

“I hope you’re going to repay their kindness.”

“I know, Dad. I plan to.”

The waitress came back with their drinks, and the two men gave her their lunch orders. Charlie played with the paper straw sleeve in his hands, debating whether or not he should bring up their family “curse”. Probably better to wade into it first, rather than bring it up out of the blue.

“I see you shaved off your beard,” Charlie commented, pointing with the paper straw. “Just the mustache now, huh?”

“What? Oh, yes.” Robert ran a hand across his bare jaw and neck, before stroking his thick chevron-shaped mustache. Charlie could see that it had more gray than black now; it matched his father’s hair better now. “I decided to give it a try, change things up a bit.”

“You’re always changing your beard and mustache. I think you’d do the same for your own hair if it wasn’t so difficult,” Charlie teased with a grin.

“Well, I had already found a haircut that I liked and that looked good on me before you were born. Means I can focus on figuring out facial hair now.” Robert ran his index finger and thumb across his mustache again. “I think I like this look though. You should grow yours out too.”

“Thanks, but I’ll pass for now,” Charlie remarked, recalling his own disastrous attempts at growing facial hair when he was a teenager.

“Your hair’s longer than I remember too.”

“Yeah, I decided to grow it out, and found that I actually like the length of it.”

“Well, I can see that the ends are uneven - you might want to get them trimmed when you have a chance.”

Charlie should have expected that they would talk about his hair eventually (hell, he even opened up that possibility when he pointed out his father’s new mustache). “Yep, it’s on my to-do list,” he responded, unable to keep his annoyance out of his voice. “Been a little busy with the move and all.”

Robert looked like he was going to say something else, but thought better of it and stopped himself, instead tilting his head to look out the window.

Charlie did the same, grabbing his soda and taking a drink of the dark syrupy liquid as he watched pedestrians pass by on the sidewalk, and cars drive down the road.

The two of them sat in silence, uncertain what else to say or how to continue the conversation.

Eventually, Robert shifted in his seat and cleared his throat.

“So,” he began, “have you found a job yet?”

Charlie took another drink of soda and set his glass down. “Not yet,” he answered. “I’ve only been here for a few days, but I’ve been looking in the classifieds when I get the newspaper. A few look hopeful. I’m actually heading over to an antique shop or jewelry store after lunch, to see if I can set up an interview with them.”

“You don’t know which it is?” Robert asked.

“It’s a little unclear,” Charlie admitted. “It’s called Timeless Treasures, but they deal with jewelry, watches, and...oh what was it…’other charming curios’. But it fits in with my interests, and I’m willing to do the work.”

Robert grunted, and his chair creaked as he leaned back into it. “Well, that’s good that you’re going in person versus just emailing it like everyone seems to be doing nowadays. Makes you memorable. Just make sure you bring a resume and a cover letter and whatever else they want from you.”

“Yep, I know. I already have those ready to go.” Charlie assured him. He decided not to tell Robert about the job opportunities he had already applied for, where he actually did email in his job applications.

“Good, good,” Robert muttered, nodding. He picked up his glass, but didn’t take a drink from it yet, instead gently swirling the ice and water inside.

Charlie shifted in his seat. “What?”

“Nothing,” Robert replied nonchalantly.

“It’s not nothing. Clearly you’re unhappy with something,” Charlie pointed out. “What is it?”

It was at that time that the waitress came back with their food, and set down sweet and sour pork in front of Robert, kung pao chicken in front of Charlie, and then their sides of fried rice and egg rolls each.

“Enjoy,” she said with a smile.

After thanking the waitress, Robert looked back at his son. “Let’s just eat and enjoy the food, Charles.”

“...Sure, I guess I can’t argue with that,” Charlie mumbled. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that his father was hiding something from him (or at least biting his tongue), but it was also hard to ignore his own rumbling stomach.

They ate in relative silence, broken up by Charlie’s exclamations at the spiciness of his lunch, and Robert admonishing him and saying he should’ve gotten something milder, only for Charlie to insist that he likes the heat of the spice. In the end, Robert just shook his head at his son and continued eating his own meal.

Charlie had to admit, he was impressed. Usually interactions with his dad, even public ones, ended in some disagreement or argument, but Robert was being surprisingly amicable. He was even tempted to let his father’s misgivings (whatever they were) about his job search lie, and to not even bring up the family “curse.”

(Although, Charlie had to give credit where credit was due: the interruptions from the waitress, though unintentional, really did help cut through some of the tension.)

It was nice to spend some time with his father where they didn’t end up arguing with each other.

“Listen, Charles,” Robert spoke up after he finished his eggroll. “If things don’t work out with this jewelry or antique job, or in Roanoke in general...what’s your back-up plan?”

Unfortunately, Charlie lived in an imperfect universe that loved to display its sense of irony.

“I, uh…” Charlie took a moment to wipe his mouth with his napkin. “The back-up plan is to make Roanoke work. Even if I have to work a part-time job or two in the meantime while I look for a full time one.”

“The cost of living in the city is significantly more than living back in Tazewell, Charles.” Robert moved his dishes to the side of the table and leaned forward. “I’m happy that you want to make things work here, but realistically you’re not going to find a job here with the degree and experience that you currently have, not without any connections. Now - you are always welcome to come back home, and I’m more than willing to speak with the manager of the barbershop and set up an interview for you to come and work there-”

“No,” Charlie interrupted him. He shook his head and gave a dry, unamused laugh. “Of course you’d bring this up again.”

“Look, all I’m saying is that you might want to reconsider the opportunities you have before you, especially considering you got a degree in mythology, of all fields of study, and spent your time working at circuses and fairs-”

“Okay, I’m going to stop you right there,” Charlie interrupted him again, cutting through the air with his hand. “First of all, I got a master’s degree in mythology, which I’ll have you know looks far better on a resume than a bachelor’s degree, regardless of the field of study. Second, sure, I worked my summers at circuses and fairs, but it allowed me to meet a bunch of people from all walks of life, and it’s where I actually picked up the skill for jewelry-making and design, which is obviously relevant for the job I’m applying for today. So that’s education, experience, and connections.”

Charlie counted each option out on his fingers as he listed them off.

“And do any of these people you’ve met live here in Roanoke?” Robert asked him pointedly.

They didn’t, not to Charlie’s knowledge, but he wasn’t about to admit that to his father. “You just want me close so that you can watch and control my life, like you’ve always done,” he said instead.

It wasn’t very kind, but it was the truth.

Robert’s brow furrowed into a frown. “Charles,” he said.

“What?” Charlie held his arms out at his sides. “Don’t even try to deny it. Why else do you want me to come back to Tazewell and work at the exact same barbershop you work at?”

“I’m only trying to look out for you, Charles!” Robert’s voice grew more exasperated as he lowered its volume. “When you decided to study mythology, it was obvious that you had magic and necromancy on the mind, not what you were actually interested in, and most certainly not anything that would be useful in the job force. You’re what, 24, and only just now decided what you wanted to do for a career?”

Charlie had stopped listening to anything beyond the words magic and necromancy. He stared at father, somehow surprised, and yet, not really surprised at all.

Of course it’s about that. Everything else is just bluster, isn’t it?

The air around them went cold, and the chimes next to the closed door stirred, as if moved by a sourceless wind.

You’ve always hated magic and necromancy. Our “curse.”

He hid his alarm at Robert’s shocked face. But Charlie was caught off guard by the guilt that suddenly welled up inside of him upon seeing it. He hadn’t wanted to frighten his dad, just that… just that he would take him seriously.

You’re proving his point, Charlie. That necromancy is something to be afraid of. That’s the opposite of what you want to do.

Charlie closed his eyes and curled his hands into fists. He took a deep breath, and uncurled his fingers. When he opened his eyes again, the temperature had returned to normal, and he met his father’s gaze.

The two of them sat in silence, staring at one another, not really moving.

Robert broke first, pushing his bottom lip up into his mustache in a frown and breathing sharply out of his nose. “I was afraid of this,” he murmured.

Charlie rolled his eyes, and stood up. He pulled his wallet out and looked for a twenty dollar bill.

“You know, I was going to invite you over to check out my new apartment, maybe actually talk seriously about this so-called family ‘curse’ with you, but you can save yourself the trip.”

He found what he was looking for and tossed the money down onto the table, before returning his wallet to his pocket and standing up.

“That should cover my lunch, the rest can go to the waitress’s tip. See you around, Dad - hopefully not any time soon.”

“Charles, wait-”

Charlie didn’t wait. He turned around and went through the doors of Lucky’s Palace back out into the busy, noisy, bustling streets of Roanoke. He didn’t waste any time hopping back into his truck and driving back to his apartment building, which wasn’t a long drive distance-wise, but doing so in city traffic made it feel like it was. It only served to irritate Charlie even further.

Should’ve just walked. What made you think this would’ve lasted long enough for you to show Dad the city?

Well, at least he couldn’t follow Charlie this way as easily if he had walked.

Eventually, Charlie pulled into the underground garage beneath his apartment building, and found a spot to park his truck. He had calmed down by the time he reached the elevator, but something about it still felt unresolved. As he exited the elevator on his floor, he passed by one of his neighbors with their dog on a leash in the hallway, and he pushed the uncomfortable feeling away, easily ignoring it as he gave a wave.

“Hi Charlie,” she greeted him warmly.

“Hey Mrs. Tran, enjoy your walk,” Charlie said in turn, giving her a polite smile.

He stopped outside of number 333, and stared at the number for a moment, briefly pondering its symbology. Then, he fished out his key, unlocked the door, and stepped into his apartment.

As far as apartments went, it wasn’t bad - Charlie had lived in objectively worse apartments back in Richmond - but it was certainly different. Most of the flooring was dark brown wooden planks, for example, save for the bathroom and the bedroom, which had tile and carpet, respectively. And the small galley kitchen on his right was open to the living room too, which made the main space of the apartment feel very large and open, despite it being, well, an apartment. The walls were cream, as were the countertops, which were visibly older than the rest of the apartment, so there was some evidence that this place was actually older than it seemed at first glance.

Charlie had furnished the apartment as best he could, but really, all he had done was tick off the minimum requirements: floor mat and coat hanger for the small entryway; kitchen utensils and dishes for the kitchen; couch, coffee table, TV, TV stand, and VHS/DVD storage for the living room; queen bed, desk, and chair for the bedroom, along with a bookcase; and bathroom stuff for the bathroom.

Oh, and things for his cat, Purrsephone, of course.

“Percy?” Charlie called out, closing the door behind him with his foot. He hooked his keys on the wall-mounted coat hanger, before covering it with his jacket.

Strange. Usually she’d come running up to the door when he arrived back home.

Come to think of it, something feels off about this place now. It’s not haunted, no, but…

“You hiding, kitty?” Charlie asked as he kicked off his shoes. He stepped out into the living room and knelt down next to the couch, bending down and flipping the bottom flap open to check underneath. Sure enough, he saw a tortoiseshell cat, backed all the way up to the wall and curled up into a loaf. Her ears were pulled back, and only relaxed a little when she caught sight of him.

“What are you doing, hiding under here? Did something out on the balcony scare you? Some crow or hawk?”

Charlie sat back up, peering over at the open sliding door, but didn’t see any signs of a bird-

Wait.

Charlie got to his feet and hurried over to the sliding door, stopping just before the threshold onto the balcony.

He hadn’t left this open when he left. And he was pretty sure he had locked it too.

Which meant that someone had forced their way inside his apartment.

There. That strange feeling again.

Charlie turned, but was too late, as something slammed into him and caught him off balance. He fell back, stunned, but managed to catch himself on the edge of the balcony. Two hands grasped his shirt in a vise-like grip, and pulled him up so that all that filled his vision were two angry green eyes and a snarl that held four prominent fangs.

“You- you! What did you do to me!”

[The Traveler]

Chapter 2

Charlie’s hands scrambled at the balcony’s edge, trying to find purchase, and panic set in as he imagined himself being flung over the balcony. He forced himself to focus on the present, and he looked at the face of the stranger. But all Charlie could pick out amidst his tunnel-vision were the eerie green eyes and the unnaturally pronounced fangs.

“Look-” Charlie spluttered. “-I don’t know who you are or what you think I did, but you’ve got the wrong guy! I’ve never met you before in my life!”

The stranger scoffed.

“Seriously!” Charlie insisted. “I don’t know you! I just recently moved here, so I haven’t had this place for very long!” He gestured feebly with his arms at his apartment. “Maybe you’re looking for the previous tenant?”

“No!” The stranger growled. He leaned in closer to Charlie, and narrowed his eyes. Charlie could detect the doubt now on the stranger’s face, as he searched for… recognition?

Amidst the uncomfortable silence and equally uncomfortable green stare, Charlie tried to identify just who - or rather, what - this stranger was. Despite his slim and slender build, it was obvious he had supernatural strength, considering how easily he had overpowered Charlie. Was it because he had a supernatural power too? Then why the green eyes and fangs?

Suddenly, the stranger let go of Charlie and stepped back.

“No- no, you’re not him!” He rasped. He clasped his forehead and hunched his shoulders, turning from Charlie and stumbling back into the apartment. “You’re still normal- but then why-”

The stranger’s voice lowered until all Charlie could make out were distressed mutters.

Charlie waited, body still tense, even though the stranger had released him. He watched him like a hawk while the stranger collapsed onto his couch. As his heart rate slowed back down to normal, Charlie could see that the stranger was young; not quite Charlie’s age, but likely a handful of years younger. He wore jeans and tennis shoes, a black hooded sweatshirt, and a gray peacoat, the hood of the sweatshirt pulled up over a messy mop of dirty blond hair. And although the eyes and the fangs were the most prominent of bizarre features on this individual, Charlie also detected two other abnormal traits: the stranger’s skin was ashy and lifeless, devoid of any healthy color, and the top of his hands held a few irregular yet nasty-looking burns.

As Charlie slowly came back inside his apartment and closed the sliding door behind him, he caught a few words.

“...Need to find him…thirsty…stupid, idiot, worthless…”

Charlie’s stomach sank as everything clicked into place.

Oh no. I’m in trouble.

Because this stranger was a vampire. Charlie was certain of it.

Not that he had met any vampires before, but with all of the knowledge of mythology and folk tales that had been crammed inside his skull from college and graduate school, Charlie felt confident in his assessment.

Less so about actually having one sitting on his couch on the verge of what seemed to be some sort of mental and/or emotional break-down.

“Um…” Charlie swallowed, his mouth suddenly feeling dry.

The vampire jerked his head when he heard Charlie speak, the intense green stare returning. Charlie didn’t like the way the vampire looked at him after hearing the word “thirsty”.

Then an idea came to him.

“I’ll- I’ll be right back,” Charlie said, shuffling towards the door, never taking his eyes off of the vampire, never turning his back to him. “Don’t go anywhere, okay?”

---

A few minutes (plus one fabricated story to his neighbor Mr. Tran about wanting to make Vietnamese blood porridge) later, Charlie re-entered his apartment, a sealed cylindrical tub of dark red liquid roughly the size of a two-liter bottle of soda in his arms. Mercifully, the vampire hadn’t moved, although he clutched his head with both hands now and had begun to rock back and forth on the couch, still muttering.

“Uh, hey,” Charlie called out.

The vampire immediately stopped and locked eyes with Charlie again, falling silent.

Yeah. He really didn’t like the way the vampire looked at him.

Androcles and the lion, Charlie, he told himself. Remember Androcles and the lion. Sure, this isn’t a thorn in the paw, the lion in my living room is just hungry, but, you know. Couldn’t hurt to help him out, if only to save MY blood from being drained out of my body, at bare minimum.

Charlie held out the tub, the liquid inside sloshing against the sides.

“Got some blood for you,” he said awkwardly.

The vampire stared blankly at Charlie.

Charlie glanced pointedly between the vampire and the tub, hoping he would get his meaning. No reaction. He sighed.

“You know-” Charlie said, reaching over and tugging the lid off, “-blood. The thing you drink? I mean, it’s pork blood and not human blood, but-”

Charlie never got the chance to finish his sentence, because right as he lifted the lid off, he felt the tub get torn from his hands. He watched as the vampire that had once been across the room from him lifted the tub to his mouth and began to violently chug down the blood. A few drops splashed onto the kitchen floor; Charlie could hear every single gulp the vampire took, one after the other.

His stomach churned at the sight and sound. Charlie forced himself to keep his eye on the vampire all the same.

The vampire had drunk about half of the blood when he finally lowered the tub from his mouth. The vibrancy of his eyes had dulled, and now they looked like normal green eyes. The vampire looked down at the tub in his hands, licking the blood that still clung to his mouth, but he seemed satiated for now. In fact, to Charlie he looked almost… disturbed, at the sight of the blood.

“Thank you,” the vampire whispered. He held the tub back to Charlie.

“Uh… sure, you’re welcome.” Charlie didn’t really know what else to say, so he took the tub and put the lid back on. He watched as the vampire wandered back into the living room, and collapsed onto his couch again. However, this time it seemed to be from exhaustion, as the vampire closed his eyes and let out a deep sigh.

It was only then that Charlie felt comfortable turning his back on the vampire.

You should get him to leave, he told himself as he opened his refrigerator and stuck the tub of blood inside. He seems more lucid now and likely to listen, now that he’s not thinking about having you for lunch.

And yet…

Something didn’t sit quite right with Charlie. The way this stranger had been acting seemed more like someone who was troubled, in trouble, or looking to start trouble. Maybe all three. He was looking for someone (that much had been obvious), but something about the stranger also gave off the vibe that he was on the run too, and way out of his depth. Something wasn’t adding-

Something brushed against his leg.

He jumped, and looked down to see Purrsephone rubbing against him, curling her tail around his calf.

“Percy, hey,” Charlie breathed out, letting the relief wash over him (and trying to ignore the embarrassment that came from being scared by his own cat). He bent down and lifted Percy into his arms. “I see you’ve found your courage. Care to lend some to me?”

Charlie shut the refrigerator door as he scratched the top of his cat’s head between her ears. He slowly turned around to look at the vampire on his couch.

How young was this kid? When had he been turned? Why had he mistaken Charlie for- well, for whoever?

Charlie wanted - no, needed - to know more before he turned this vampire away.

With Percy happily purring away in his arms so long as he kept up her massage service, Charlie walked over to his living room.

“So I never got your name,” Charlie began, sitting down in one of the chairs across from the couch.

The vampire opened his eyes and tilted his head forward to look at Charlie. He didn’t respond as he reached up and pulled the hood down off of his head, shaking out his hair.

“Here, I’ll tell you mine first,” Charlie offered. “My name is Charles Evans, but most people call me Charlie. Oh, and before I forget, this is Percy, short for Purrsephone.”

Charlie held up his cat. Percy meowed.

The vampire blinked at Charlie and Percy. He didn’t speak until Charlie lowered his cat back into his lap.

“...I’m Arthur. Arthur Wright.” His gaze drifted to the side, looking out the balcony. “Or at least I used to be.”

Arthur spoke softly, yet also with a prominent hiss to each word, like he was almost stage-whispering. Charlie wondered if it was because of the fangs, if that made it harder for Arthur to speak.

“Used to be, huh,” Charlie remarked. “Well, I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but you nearly flung me off my balcony because you mistook me for someone else, so… what the fuck is up with that? Who is it that you’re looking for?”

Arthur shifted uncomfortably on Charlie’s couch, looking down at his hands.

“Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m… I’m looking for the person who did this to me. Who changed me into a… vampire.”

Arthur buried his face in his hands and swore.

“How the fuck did this even happen to me?”

“I mean, you probably know the answer to that better than me,” Charlie remarked. Percy had started to squirm in his arms, so he set her down on the floor and she slinked away.

“Why don’t you start from the beginning?” Charlie suggested.

Arthur lifted his head from his hands, frowning. “The beginning,” he murmured. He sat up straight. “Sure. Yeah. Me and… my friend were exploring the city a few nights ago. We’re not from around here, but we were going to Roanoke College, so we figured we should get to know the area. At some point during the night, we came across this old abandoned bar on the outskirts of the city. She suggested we try to break in, see if we could, uh, find anything interesting that had been left behind.”

“Right, sure,” Charlie commented absently, nodding along. He had a good guess as to what these college freshmen were looking for, but it didn’t seem relevant to the story, so he didn’t say anything more.

Though he did wonder where this friend was.

“I was messing around with the lock in the back while Jen- Jennifer was looking for something we could use to smash it open.” Arthur stumbled over the name of his friend. “Then I realized that I couldn’t hear her anymore.”

Charlie watched as a glaze passed over Arthur’s eyes.

Oh. That’s what happened to her.

“I… I turned around and this- this person had restrained her, had his hand over her mouth so she couldn’t scream, and had- had latched onto her neck. I didn’t think, I just- I tried to pull him off her, but he was too strong. He…”

Arthur trailed off, his gaze lowering down to the floor. His hands curled into fists, and behind the thousand-yard stare, Charlie figured that he was reliving the tragic memory in his mind.

It was only when it seemed like he wouldn’t continue that Charlie spoke up.

“I take it he killed her,” he said softly, carefully. “I’m sorry for your loss. I’m guessing that this vampire turned you into one of his kind next?”

Arthur swallowed and looked back up at Charlie. He blinked a few times, seeming to come back to reality, and gave a nod.

“Yeah. I guess that’s what happened,” Arthur murmured. “He latched onto me next, drank my blood. I remember falling to the ground and…”

The disturbed look returned to his face.

“...And then I remember a voice telling me to drink, repeatedly, and a hand or wrist being shoved towards my mouth. His voice, I think. And his wrist. I think it was his blood. I… I don’t know why I drank it.”

His gaze flicked to Charlie’s refrigerator, looking like he was going to say something else, but then thought better of it.

Charlie lowered his head into his hand in thought, trying to piece everything together. “You probably lost a lot of blood when he drank from you,” he guessed. “That usually makes someone woozy and suggestible. What happened after you drank his blood?”

Arthur scratched the back of his head. “I think I passed out. Everything else is fuzzier after that. The next thing I remember… I’m stumbling into the bar, but it’s not abandoned any more. There’s red and blue lights, and music with a heavy beat, like it was some sort of nightclub. Then there was a blue woman and- and I remember attacking her. I bit her neck.”

Charlie lifted his head from his hand, feeling his heart begin to beat faster inside his chest. He leaned forward.

“Arthur,” Charlie began, trying to remain calm, “did you kill this woman?”

“No.” Arthur shook his head emphatically. “No, I didn’t kill her.”

“Are you sure?” Charlie pressed.

“I- I don’t know. I don’t think I did.” Arthur rubbed his forehead and squeezed his eyes shut. “She snarled at me and shoved me off her, but then two other people tackled her to the ground, and then there was shouting and fighting, and- and I must’ve gotten out of there but I don’t remember how. The next thing I remember was waking up in my dorm room, covered in sweat and feeling like my throat was on fire. That’s all I remember about that night.”

Charlie sank back in his chair, letting out a deep breath, but he didn’t relax.

Someone has to be looking for him. You don’t walk away from something like that and not make a few enemies.

“I should find her.” Arthur dropped his hand from his forehead and opened his eyes. He looked like he was about to stand up. “Make sure she’s okay. Then I’ll keep looking for the person who changed me-”

“Nope, I’m gonna stop you right there,” Charlie interrupted, holding up a hand. “Before you do anything, I have a few questions that your story failed to answer.”

Arthur frowned at Charlie. He slowly sat back down. “Okay,” he responded. “Go ahead.”

Charlie looked down at the watch on his wrist. Twenty minutes until he had to leave. He could wrap up the conversation within that time…

“But you might want to adjust your watch. It’s fifteen past noon.”

“Shit,” Charlie swore. “Shit!”

He shot up to his feet and made a beeline for his room.

“What?” Arthur exclaimed. He jumped to his feet as well and followed Charlie, holding his body tense and swiveling his gaze around the bedroom. “What is it?”

Charlie didn’t respond right away. He opened his closet doors and slid clothes hanger after clothes hanger aside, until he found the light-purple dress shirt he was looking for.

“I have five minutes to get to my job interview.” Charlie pulled off his denim jacket with drawstring hood and sweatshirt fabric sleeves, and tossed it onto the bed, now just wearing a plain white v-neck undershirt. As he slid his arms into the dress shirt, he looked at Arthur, who was still standing at the doorway to his bedroom.

“Okay, I’m skipping to the most important question. Are you being followed?” Charlie asked as he buttoned up his shirt.

Arthur flashed him a confused look. “What? No.”

“Are you sure?” Charlie said emphatically. He finished buttoning his shirt and skirted past Arthur to head into the bathroom. He flicked the lights on and stood in front of the mirror.

“Yes, I’m sure!” Arthur insisted. “I don’t know why anyone would be looking for me. Maybe my roommate, but he has no idea where I am. Probably thinks I’ve died or something.”

Charlie adjusted his shirt collar in the mirror and grabbed his comb off the bathroom sink, running it through both sides of his hair a few times. It was long, just shy of being shoulder-length in the back, but not on the verge of unprofessional just yet.

“You started a bar brawl and assaulted a woman. I can’t believe that nobody is trying to find you,” he remarked.

He tossed the comb back onto the sink and went back into his room, grabbing his padfolio off of his computer desk. But instead of moving when Charlie made to leave his bedroom for the final time, Arthur remained still, blocking the way.

“That happened a few nights ago,” Arthur insisted. “And I haven’t been trying to hide. If someone was looking for me, they would’ve found me by now.”

Charlie opened his mouth, then closed it. What Arthur said made sense - to a point. He had no idea how long it took for the cops, a private eye, or hell, even someone who knew the woman that held a grudge, to find a person like Arthur. He didn’t think that Arthur knew that information either.

“You don’t have anywhere to go, do you,” Charlie finally said.

Arthur shook his head. “No,” he answered. “I can’t go back to my dorm. I don’t… my roommate. There were times where I thought I would…”

He trailed off and looked away. His meaning was clear though.

Charlie let out a deep sigh and leaned against the doorway, one arm propped up against the trim. He shook his head.

Androcles and the lion, Charlie.

“When I get back, I want to know how you mistook me for this vampire... progenitor of yours,” Charlie began, pointing at Arthur. “And I also want to know how you knew which apartment to break into, and how you did it from a three-story balcony.”

Arthur nodded. “Sure, yeah, of course.”

“Good. In the meantime, you can stay here for one night - or day - or whatever,” Charlie decided. “That’s all I’m willing to help you with. Then you should try and find your vampire progenitor; he’s probably going to be more capable of helping you than I ever could.”

“What about the blue woman?” Arthur asked.

“Honestly? Try to forget about her,” Charlie told him. “She’s either dead or probably wants you dead. Now, can you please move? I’m going to be late.”

Arthur stepped out of the way, and Charlie breezed past him, heading for the apartment door. As he turned the knob, he heard the vampire say something behind him.

“Thank you.”

[The Traveler]

Chapter 3

Thanks to MapQuest, Charlie had been pleased to discover that the location for his job interview was only a short distance away from his apartment, which amounted to roughly a fifteen minute walk. Not too bad for a commute, if he did say so himself.

Charlie slowed to a stop once he caught sight of the storefront on the side of the street. The name of the shop had been printed in gold lettering across the windows:

Timeless Treasures
Jewelry, Watches, Repairs,
And Other Charming Curios

Behind the lettering, his eyes were drawn to the wares that were displayed front and center behind the windows - primarily watches, but also various types of jewelry, and other knick-knacks of similar high quality.

Stepping inside, Charlie’s first impression of the place could be summed up in three words: warm, gold, and cluttered. The sun shone in through the windows, and the metal and glass and all manner of reflective materials caught the light, glittering and shining. Warm brown oak made up the floor, along with the countertops and the tables displaying all of the “charming curios” that Timeless Treasures had to offer, but the chief difference was that some of the furnishings seemed to be made in the style of live-edge wood. A few plants were dotted here and there within the space in blue pots, a cool reprieve from a predominately brown and golden shop.

Still, Charlie couldn’t argue with the effect it had: the overall color palette of Timeless Treasures made it so that the crystals, stones, and other more colorful parts of the jewelry stood out, while the gold and silver chain faded into the background. And there were many of them - so much so that occasionally Charlie worried that he might accidentally bump into a wire tree full of earrings and knock it over.

He caught sight of a countertop with the cash register, and maneuvered around the many display tables to make his way over there, only to discover that it was unoccupied. A sign that read “Be Back Soon” stood propped on the edge of the desk.

Charlie looked around the store, but didn’t see anyone else inside, whether customer or staff member. He glanced up at the corners of store space, and noted the security cameras mounted on the ceiling.

Well, at least whoever works here isn’t a complete idiot…

He sat down in a chair adjacent to the countertop with the cash register to wait for the owner to return. He caught sight of a wall clock with scalloped filigree, and decided to finally take the time to adjust his watch.

Unfortunately for Charlie, worry began to creep in.

With each adjustment of the minute hand, his thoughts returned to the vampire currently staying in his apartment. No, scratch that - currently taking refuge in his apartment.

Twelve hours. It’s just twelve hours. And he has half a tub of pork blood left. It’s fine. You can handle this.

Sure. Yeah. And can you handle the people who are surely looking for Arthur when they show up on your doorstep too?

Charlie released the crown of his watch once he finished correcting its time; it now matched that of the wall clock. Three minutes until his interview.

If, of course, they realize he’s staying at a stranger’s apartment, he told himself. It’s fine. You’re going to be fine.

He didn’t feel fine, but he had to try and push Arthur out of his mind if he wanted to focus on and do well in his interview.

Charlie flipped open the padfolio in his hands, scanning through his resume and cover letter. Both looked really nice, or at least as nice as he could get them. Being able to change the size of the text on the computer was helpful too, in trying to pad out both documents and make them look more substantial than they actually were.

He really didn’t have much to speak for, did he?

Charlie sighed and rubbed his eyes with his index finger and thumb.

Don’t get like that. That’s Dad getting into your head now. Quality over quantity, Charlie. You got an interview with this resume and letter of interest. They want to talk to you.

Amidst his rumination, Charlie heard a door open, and he looked up.

A small old woman had walked out from behind a door that said “STAFF ONLY”. She had a pair of safety glasses (goggles?) pushed up onto her forehead, and she had a thick brown leather apron over her person. She wore a cream-colored sweater embroidered with light pink flowers and green leaves, and bootcut jeans that were also embroidered with the same pattern. Her long silver hair had been pulled back into a tight braid, although a few strands escaped and framed her warm beige face. She blinked at Charlie with curious brown eyes.

“Uh, hi,” Charlie began, standing up. “My name’s Charlie Evans. I’m here for a job interview for a, uh…”

He looked down at his padfolio, reminding himself of the job title.

“...Assistant Jeweler position, here at Timeless Treasures,” Charlie finished, looking back up. He closed his padfolio and tucked it underneath his arm. “I saw the sign on the counter, so I figured I should wait until someone returned.”

“Ah,” the old woman said with a polite smile. “Yes. I sent my store clerk out on an errand, and I had just stepped aside to receive something from the fax machine. You must’ve just missed me. Charlie, you said your name was?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Charlie confirmed. “My application likely said Charles though.”

Recognition crossed the old woman’s face. “Of course - yes, I’ve been expecting you!” she said enthusiastically. “My name is Joanne Wallace, though please, call me Joanne. I’m the owner of Timeless Treasures. Give me one second while I lock the store; I have a feeling our conversation will take longer than the few minutes it takes to grab paper from the printer.”

Charlie waited, watching as Joanne went to the front of the store, locked the door, and flipped the sign around to indicate that it was closed. As she passed by him, she beckoned for Charlie to follow her through the staff-only door.

Walking inside, it was obvious to Charlie that this room was the workshop of the place, although he saw that there was another door that likely led to a more formal office, a break room, and things of more administrative nature. What surprised him, however, was that Joanne simply led him back to what Charlie presumed to be her workshop table, and gestured for him to sit in a stool opposite hers.

“Do you have a copy of your resume?” She asked him as she sat down.

“That, and more,” Charlie answered. He opened his padfolio and pulled out his resume, cover letter, and a small stack of papers stapled together that he hoped would pass as a portfolio of his work. He handed them over to Joanne.

"Thank you."

She pulled out a pair of cat’s-eye glasses from her apron and put them on to read Charlie’s papers, which looked a bit odd, considering she still had her safety glasses on her forehead too.

She remained silent, taking her time as she read through his resume.

“You’ve led an eclectic life, Charlie,” Joanne finally commented. “What made you decide on jewelry design?”

Charlie cleared his throat. “Well, I was working at a fair during one of my college summers, and one day, one of the vendors there was suddenly short-staffed, so I was tapped on to help man their stall. After getting a crash-course, I discovered that I liked and was interested in the technicalities behind making jewelry - and watches too, I’ll say, and other things that fall under the jewelry bucket. Anyways, after that, I asked if the vendor could teach me some of the basics, which he did. And I’ve done the same since then for each subsequent fair and circus I worked at where a jewelry maker was willing to teach me what he or she knew.”

Joanne nodded along as she listened, before returning to his resume. Once she finished, she moved the resume to the back of the stack of papers in her hands, and read through his cover letter.

“Why did you apply for this job?” She asked next.

I need money to live and I meet the minimum requirements?

Charlie wasn’t that blunt, but his response alluded to his inner thoughts. “Well, I’ve recently moved to Roanoke, and was looking for jobs and careers that fit with my experience and degree as outlined in my resume, in particular jewelry design or manufacturing. I saw your posting in the classifieds of the local newspaper, and decided to apply. I think with my skills and experience, I’m qualified for the position of Assistant Jeweler.”

Joanne raised an eyebrow. “Even with your master’s in mythology?”

“I’d say especially so.” Charlie was prepared for that question. “Historically, jewelry and other adornments were used for religious as well as decorative purposes, and even today we still see that in Christian rosaries, Muslim Allah pendants, Jewish adornments featuring the Star of David, and in other jewelry that utilizes symbols of faith. Even from a more secular perspective, mythology can be a fount of inspiration for design and art in general, and can give meaning to even the simplest designs. So I’d say that having that deep understanding and knowledge of mythology is a boon to have for this position.”

Joanne had moved on to his portfolio of work as he talked, and was flipping through the stapled papers. She had seemed skeptical at first, but as she looked at his photocopies and listened to his response, Charlie could tell that she was coming around. “I can see what you mean,” she remarked. “I’m not as familiar with mythology as you are, but I can see it in your work.”

She lingered for a moment on a specific page in his portfolio. She flipped aside the loose papers, and showed the black-and-white photocopy image to Charlie.

“What can you tell me about this ring?”

Charlie squinted at the photo, which portrayed the ring on a hand. “Well, the band itself was designed to be simple, as I wanted the top of the ring to be the focus. The top features an infinity loop, with one side made of ivy vines and the other made of lightning. You can see that each loop has a stone set inside, but it’s hard to tell the type and color from the photo, so, I can tell you that on the ivy side is a rainbow obsidian, and on the lightning side is a highly polished, smooth clear quartz.”

“You just described how the ring looks, Charlie.” Though she was admonishing him, Joanne’s tone of voice was more amused and warm than critical. “What does it mean to you? Why did you choose the things you did when you designed it?”

Charlie hesitated. He shifted in his seat as he gathered his thoughts; it was difficult being honest about things like these.

“The concept of duality fascinates me,” he admitted. “Mostly, duality in terms of balance, and how things can be very different from one another, and yet, similar and in harmony with each other in many other ways - they’re greater as a whole than they ever could be if they remained apart. Kind of similar to yin-yang from Taoism. There are many things that are polar opposites in mythology: good and evil is the most common one, but there’s also logic and emotion, life and death, and even the more physical earth and sky...which, I decided to represent here. In comparative world mythology, there are archetypes of a female deity known as the great goddess, and a male deity known as the supreme being, and they tend to be associated with qualities and features that make them very different from one another, chief among them the earth and the sky. I’m sure you’re familiar with the concept of Mother Nature, and the chief gods who preside over the sky and the storm, such as Zeus and Odin. I wanted to highlight that duality in this ring, while also creating a sense of balance, alignment, and harmony with the overall design.”

“And the stones?”

“Oh, ah…” Charlie scooted forward, getting a better look at the photo. “The rainbow obsidian was chosen for the color - black may be associated with death, but it’s also associated with life, specifically with fertile black earth. The fact that it also incorporates other ribbons of color just...made sense to me, that it would fit in with earth. And, in keeping with the concept of this ring, I chose clear quartz because it was opposite in color to the rainbow obsidian, and the fact that it can represent the sun, the moon, the stars, take your pick - essentially any celestial body. It was also, ah, considerably cheaper than diamonds, which would have been my first choice.”

“And what enchantments did you put on the ring?”

Charlie blinked. “Uh...come again?”

Joanne flipped the stapled papers back over and set them down on top of his resume and cover letter. “What enchantments did you put on the ring?” She repeated.

“I…” Charlie struggled to come up with a response. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Do you mean protections, like varnishes or sealants?”

Joanne gave him a reproachful look. “No,” she said flatly. “I mean enchantments. Magic that you place on an item to give it an arcane property.”

Charlie swallowed, but somehow maintained his composure.

“...No,” he answered. “I’m sorry, but this isn’t a gimmel ring or any sort of trick ring. I’m afraid that’s a little outside of my expertise at the moment.” He gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “But, I’m always willing to learn and get better.”

Joanne remained silent, tilting her head at Charlie. He could have sworn he saw a sharp glint in her eye - or maybe it was the way her glasses caught the light from above?

Then, she gave him a nod.

“As any good craftsman should,” she finally said.

“Right.” Charlie cleared his throat. “Anyways, did you have any additional questions about my skills?”

“I don’t, no, not at this time,” Joanne responded. She reached up and took her glasses off her face, folding them up and returning them to her apron’s pocket. “Do you have any questions for me?”

Charlie did, mostly about wage and benefits and what this job would be classified as, and what the day-to-day duties of an assistant jeweler would be, which Joanne answered completely. He jotted down her answers in his padfolio, and flipped it closed once he was done, looking back up at the old woman.

“I think that’s all from me,” he said. “What are the next steps? When should I expect to hear from you?”

“Well, I’d like to see your skills in person, but something like that takes time to set up,” Joanne told him. She placed her hands on her knees and leaned forward. “Tell you what: if you don’t hear from me in a week, give the store a call.”

“Of course, I can definitely do that,” Charlie said with a nod.

“Perfect. Well, I won’t keep you-” Joanne eased herself off her stool with a groan, and Charlie stood up as well. “Come, I’ll show you back out.”

“It was nice to meet you, Joanne,” Charlie said politely as they both went through the staff-only door back into the store proper. “I hope to hear from you soon.”

“It was lovely to meet you too.” Joanne followed him to the front of the store, flipping the sign back to open and unlocking the front door for Charlie. “Take care now, Charlie. Goodbye.”

“You as well. Bye.”

Walking back to his apartment, Charlie replayed the interview in his head. He lingered on the question about enchantments and the answer he had given Joanne.

It was the one time he had lied during that interview - well, sort of. It was true that Charlie had never made a gimmel ring or any sort of trick ring, but he knew that wasn’t the answer that Joanne had been looking for.

Because the truth was, he had put an enchantment on that ring. A balance enchantment, is what Charlie had taken to calling it, since it essentially helped the wearer rebalance their emotions when they drifted to either extremes. He had created the ring and enchantment for his own personal use: he didn’t have crazy mood-swings, no, but it had helped him realize how to stay calm during stressful or emotionally-charged situations.

Why hadn’t he just told her the truth when she asked?

Charlie knew why.

It was the same reason he practiced necromancy under the cover of night and in the privacy of his apartment.

And the problem was, Joanne probably knew he had lied. Which meant it was a black mark on his interview.

“Stupid,” he muttered. He rubbed his forehead. “You should’ve just told the truth.

He paused for a moment, waiting for traffic to clear before he crossed the street, and made a mental note to remove that damn ring from his portfolio when he got back to his apartment.

[The Traveler]

Chapter 4

Charlie remained in a sullen and dour mood all the way back to his apartment building, though not just from the interview; the autumn wind blew right through his shirt and sent a shiver or two down his spine, which only annoyed him even more. His only relief was that the cold was temporary, as by the time he reached his apartment, the warmth of the interior had chased the chill away.

Charlie paused outside of his apartment and took a deep breath, tilting his head up to look at the ceiling. He pushed aside his worries about the interview, and his worries about the vampire waiting for him behind the door rushed in to fill the void. He murmured a quick prayer for strength and patience from the God and Goddess, and stepped inside.

The lights were off, save for the lamp next to the couch, and Charlie could hear sound coming from the TV, quietly playing the early evening news. Charlie saw Arthur lounging on the couch, leaning on his hand and almost nodding off. He jolted straight up when he heard Charlie close the door behind him.

“You’re back!” Arthur said.

“Yep,” Charlie said in response as he kicked off his shoes. “I’m back.”

Arthur jumped to his feet, practically vibrating with energy as he rushed over to Charlie. “I remember!” He exclaimed.

“Whoa!” Charlie threw up his hands and held the vampire at arm’s length. “Personal bubble, please. Were you like this when you were human?”

Arthur gave an indifferent shrug. He didn’t fight against Charlie.

Charlie let out an exacerbated sound, but decided it wasn’t worth pursuing. He lowered his arms back down. “What do you remember?” Charlie asked.

“The name of the bar!” Arthur said. “Where I got turned into a vampire and where I attacked the blue woman! It’s called Nobody’s Bar and Grill. If we go there, I bet we can figure out where she and-”

“No,” Charlie cut in, gesturing in a slicing motion with both of his hands and shaking his head. “No! Why are you so obsessed with finding this woman?”

“I have to know if she’s still alive!” The words practically burst out of Arthur, as if he had been struggling to contain them. “She has to be, right? All I did was- was bite her. Yeah, plenty of people survive from all sorts of bites all the time. I can’t have killed her…”

Arthur trailed off, his gaze unfocusing. Then he shook his head, and a pleading look entered his eyes.

“But I have to be sure. I need to be sure,” he insisted. “That’s why I have to find her!”

Charlie stared back at Arthur, an uncomfortable frown on his face. “Arthur…” He began, but stalled, and heaved a sigh as he rubbed his forehead, trying to think about how to deliver his thoughts to Arthur.

Going back is a mistake.

You’re going to get yourself back into trouble.

Just forget about her.

Whatever happened to trying to find the vampire who changed you? That should be your first move before anything else.

Didn’t I have questions for you still?

He looked down at the padfolio in his hands, and exhaustion entered Charlie all the way down to his bones. It seemed his prayer for strength and patience had failed.

“Look,” he tried again, “we’re both tired. No, don’t try to deny it, I saw you nearly falling asleep to the news when I entered, you’re just hiding it well. Instead of doing something rash, let’s just… wait until morning, huh?"

“What?” Arthur blinked at Charlie. “No. No! Charlie, this can’t wait!”

“Yes, it can,” Charlie said firmly. “Think about it, Arthur. It’s been what, a few days since you were changed? She’s not going to be there still. If you’re hoping to pick up some sort of trail, whatever’s still there after all this time will likely still be there in the morning. Get some rest, give it the night, and then I can drive you to this Nobody’s Bar and Grill, if that’s where you want to go. Alright?”

Arthur didn’t respond right away, but his brow creased with worry. He swallowed.

“...What if she’s dead?” he whispered. “Or dying? What if I… ”

Arthur didn’t finish, but Charlie caught his meaning. Compassion once again drowned out Charlie’s worries, and he took a deep breath before he responded.

“Look - right now, we don’t know anything, and we shouldn’t jump to conclusions or worry about what-ifs.” Charlie spoke more gently than he had been during the entire conversation. He put a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. “Tomorrow I’ll take you to this bar, and then hopefully we can find some answers there. Okay?”

“...Okay,” Arthur mumbled with a nod.

“For now, try to get comfortable on the couch and get some sleep.” Charlie nodded back over to his living room. “I’ll see if I can find a spare blanket.”

Once he got Arthur situated in the living room, Charlie attempted to fix himself some dinner, but seeing the tub of blood in the fridge reminded him of when Arthur drank from it, and his stomach decided for him that he wasn’t hungry after all. After filling Percy’s bowl with cat food, Charlie retreated into his bedroom, and closed the door quietly behind him.

Charlie tossed his padfolio onto his desk and let his head fall back against the door with a soft thump. He shut his eyes.

What the hell was he doing?

He didn’t want to get involved in the supernatural this way. He’d already stuck his neck out enough for Arthur, letting him stay in his apartment overnight, and now he was offering to drive him to this bar where he attacked some human woman?

This was more than Androcles and the lion now. Why did he feel responsible for this kid?

Charlie sighed. He pushed himself off the door and picked up his pajamas from the floor, tossing them onto his bed as he changed out of his clothes. He knows less than you about this stuff, about the supernatural, he tried to reason with himself. And he IS a kid. And you’d probably call yourself a terrible person if you didn’t help him.

Nevermind that you’re probably putting yourself in danger by doing so.

Charlie pulled on his pajama bottoms and picked up his shirt. He contemplated it for a moment, and then tossed it towards his dresser. It hit the wood surface and fell to the ground.

He crouched down next to his bed and lifted up the mattress from the box spring, revealing a thick book bound in leather laying between the two. He pulled it out and let the mattress fall back onto the box spring as he stood back up.

Charlie opened the book to the title page: De Arcanis Spirituum et Daemonum, written by someone calling themselves Piscinarius. He thumbed its pages, watching old, discolored paper flip by quickly, words and images inscribed in dark ink flashing before his eyes. It was a book he had discovered deep within the archives of his university’s library when he had been working on his master’s, and it had been so obscure and forgotten that no one had blinked an eye when he tossed it into his bag and took it home with him.

You know, you could be putting yourself in danger by reading this book too, by attempting to perform the spells written within.

Charlie rolled his eyes at his internal contrarian voice, but it had a point. It’s not like this book wasn’t without risks either.

Normally Charlie would sit at his desk and try to jot down notes from DASeD, or would find a space within his apartment to attempt one of the spells written within, but tonight he decided to crawl into bed and simply absorb the material. He only stopped when his head swam with arcane symbols he struggled to comprehend, long after the sun had gone down. Charlie closed the book and shoved it back into its hiding place between the mattress and the box spring.

His mind sufficiently distracted, Charlie had no problem finding sleep the minute his head hit the pillow.

---

The next morning, Charlie woke to something gently patting his nose and mouth.

He groaned and lifted a hand to try and push this something away, but his fingers found something soft and furry instead. He blinked open his eyes and lifted his head.

Purrsephone stood next to his face, staring down at Charlie. She let out a meow.

Charlie let his head fall back onto his pillow and groaned again.

A few minutes later, he emerged from his bedroom with a yawn, his cat in his arms. He scratched the back of his head as he trudged over to the kitchen. He squinted at the time on the oven as he set Percy down.

“You’re early,” Charlie mumbled. He reached into one of the upper cabinets and pulled out the bag of cat food. “But I’m too tired to argue with you or sit through your impatient meowing, so…”

He trailed off when he looked down and noticed that Percy wasn’t prowling around his legs like she usually did when it was time for her breakfast. Charlie glanced over at her bowl, but she wasn’t waiting there either.

A meow from the living room caught his attention, and Charlie walked around the countertops that divided the kitchen from the living room and went over to his cat, who had hopped up onto the coffee table and was still staring at him intently. He bent down and scratched her head behind her ears.

“What’s bothering you girl, huh?” He asked softly, and true to her name, Purrsephone began to purr. “Were you just missing me? Do you just need some pets and scritches and-”

Charlie froze.

He slid his gaze over to his couch.

The one that should have been occupied by a recently turned vampire.

The one that now held only a spare blanket and two throw pillows.

Charlie ought to have been relieved. Grateful, even. Finally, his apartment was his own again, and he no longer had to worry about a vampire with a potential criminal record living under his roof. He could forget about Arthur and return to his life, the way it should be, and wade into the supernatural on his own terms, the way he wanted to.

And yet…

“Ah, hell,” Charlie muttered.

He stopped petting Percy and made a beeline to her food bowl, quickly eye-balling what he would usually feed her for breakfast, and then hurriedly putting the cat food away. Percy had already hopped off the coffee table and begun to eat by the time Charlie passed by and went back into his room.

He re-emerged fully dressed, wearing ripped jeans and a dark gray shirt, and carrying a buffalo check flannel button-up in one hand, and a yellow sticky note in the other. He stuck the sticky note between his teeth as he pulled on the flannel.

“Should be back soon,” Charlie mumbled through his lips at Percy. He grabbed the sticky note again, scanned through the directions he had hastily written down, and then shoved it into one of his pockets.

“If Arthur’s at this Nobody’s Bar and Grill he talked about, then I’m going to summon a shit-ton of zombies, have them manhandle him into my truck, and then take him to the first vampire I can find in the city,” he continued, bending down to pull his boots on. “I’m done trying to talk sense into him, and it shouldn’t take me long to draw out the symbols Piscinarius describes to summon the zombies either. There’s bound to be human bodies buried in the ground near this bar, right? There’s probably human bodies in various stages of decay everywhere when you think about it…”

Percy didn’t respond, still in the midst of devouring her breakfast.

“And if he isn’t there - ” Charlie pulled his boot laces tight and then stood up, “ - well, then, I guess he isn’t my problem any more.”

He looked down at Purrsephone, and she looked up at him, licking her jaws, bowl now empty. Charlie reached down and gave her a few more pets.

“I’ll be back soon,” he repeated.

Then he pulled on his leather jacket, grabbed his keys, and left his apartment.

[The Traveler]

Chapter 5

“Well,” Charlie mumbled to himself as he turned off his truck, “I don’t blame him for thinking it was abandoned.”

He had pulled into the dirt parking lot and now sat staring at the dilapidated building in front of him. He could see gaps and holes between and within the bone-dry, faded wooden planks that made up the structure of the place. The windows were dirty and smudged, and it would’ve been impossible to see through them even during the middle of the day. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in an old western movie, save for the sign. Which, although the neon lights outlining the sign remained dark, and the paint had nearly faded from all of the letters, Charlie could still make out what it said in the early morning sun: Nobody’s Bar and Grill.

He was in the right place. Now he just had to find Arthur.

Charlie stepped out into the parking lot, his breath visible in the morning air. Remembering the chill from last night, he reached back into his truck and pulled out the red beanie he kept within his vehicle, tugging it on over his ears. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and kicked his truck door closed.

As he walked up to the entrance, he heard shouting coming from inside. Charlie halted, and pressed his ear to the door. Was that… a woman?

No way.

But sure enough, he heard Arthur’s panicked voice respond to the woman in turn.

Charlie pulled his head away from the door just as he heard the woman yell “Bullshit!” and the next thing he knew, the door burst open and Arthur collided into him, sending the both of them down onto the ground.

Pain shot into Charlie through his hands and back, and he nearly got the wind knocked out of him when Arthur landed right on top of his stomach.

The young vampire scrambled back to his feet, crouching low over the person who broke his fall. He looked down at Charlie, and his eyes widened. “Charlie?” He whispered. “What are you doing here?”

Charlie let out a pained groan. “What do you think, idiot?”

“Wait - Charlie?”

Charlie’s eyes shot open. He knew that voice had sounded familiar.

He pulled himself up into a seated position, and stared at the woman who had - he assumed - thrown Arthur.

“Juno?” Charlie said.

She stood in the doorway, a baggy black t-shirt hanging from her muscular arms, hands on hips clad in loose denim overalls, the shock nearly (but not completely) erasing the royally pissed off look that had been on her face moments before. Even so, Charlie’s eyes were drawn to her hair: instead of it being pure black, several of her braids had been dyed electric blue, giving her a striking and memorable look.

Blue woman, Charlie recalled. He glanced at Arthur. The young vampire remained still, frozen, but his gaze darted between Juno and Charlie.

“What are you doing here?” Juno asked.

He turned his attention back to Juno. “Looking for him,” Charlie answered. He jabbed a thumb at Arthur.

Juno frowned at his answer. “Why?” She pressed.

“Uh… well, it’s a bit of a complicated story,” he said. He took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet-

Only to find Juno right up in his face, her frown deepening to something angrier. Instinctively, Charlie took a step back.

“Do you know what this vampire has done?” She demanded, pointing at Arthur, who hadn’t moved since the both of them had started talking.

“Yeah, he attacked you,” Charlie fired back, going on the defensive. “What, have you suddenly developed an ego and can’t handle losing a fight? He’s only been a vampire for, what, three days? The kid didn’t know what he was doing.”

Juno punched his shoulder - not to the point of knocking Charlie over, but hard enough to drive home her point. “I know that, smartass. I can smell that he’s a newbie. And this isn’t about me or my ego. This is- fuck, Charlie, do you know how many people I’m responsible for now? Do you know how many others like me might die, because you-”

Juno let out an angry huff and turned away, running a hand through her braids.

Charlie stared at her, his hand absentmindedly going to the shoulder she had punched. He had never seen Juno this agitated before, not even when they had first met at Olympia’s Middlefaire.

Something was wrong.

“Juno, what’s going on?” Charlie asked.

“There’s a whole supernatural war going on right underneath your nose, Charlie, and he’s the one who started it.”

Juno lifted an arm and pointed at Arthur.

Arthur finally moved, shrinking back into himself and blinking wide green eyes in disbelief. “...What?” He whispered.

Juno scoffed and shook her head, looking down at her shoes. But when she turned back to face Charlie, the anger had all but fled from her, and she looked at him with almost pleading eyes. “Charlie… if you know something, you need to tell me. If you created this vampire with your weird necromantic magic, I need to know, as your friend. I can vouch for you, explain that this was all an accident and a misunderstanding, not something that House Munteanu has done-”

“What the hell are you doing?” A new voice spoke up.

Juno whirled around, dropping her body into a ready stance, and she and Charlie watched as a small woman stepped out from Nobody’s, with long black hair and narrow brown eyes. Out of the corner of his eye, Charlie saw Arthur take a couple steps back towards his truck, only for another figure, this time tall, bulky, and male, to emerge from behind his vehicle and block Arthur’s path. A second woman, slender and blond, appeared from around the outside corner of the building, and closed in the perimeter the other two strangers had been making.

“Mika,” Juno greeted. She straightened and appeared to relax, but Charlie noted that she kept her hands curled into fists, and hadn’t moved her feet from that ready stance. “I could ask you the same thing. Max had me followed?”

“We’re at war,” the giant man spoke up. “It’s not wise for any of us to go outside the compound alone. He also told you to let it go.”

“There’s more to this war than what’s on the surface, Scott!” Juno exclaimed. “I left the compound to try and find the vampire who started this! He wasn’t turned by a Munteanu vampire - House Munteanu never attacked us that night at Nobody’s!”

“Then who turned him?” Mika pressed, crossing her arms. “Your friend?”

“I freely admit that I am a magic user who is proficient in necromancy, but I cannot create vampires,” Charlie piped up, speaking rapidly.

“Then why is Juno trying to cover for you then?” The blonde woman accused.

“Charlie, shut up,” Juno hissed at him through gritted teeth. She turned to face the blonde woman. “Why don’t you just come out and say that you don’t trust me, Amy, huh?”

“We did trust you, Juno, until we heard you offer to cover for this vampire and this necromancer you call your friend,” Mika interjected. “It begs the question where your loyalties lie.”

This is going bad, Charlie thought. In his peripheries, he realized Scott and Amy had inched closer to them during the course of this conversation. He felt his heart rate jump as he understood what they were trying to do. He had to act, but there wasn’t time to draw out the symbols from Piscinarius’s book. That left a fist fight. He could probably take on Amy, but he wasn’t certain how Arthur would handle Scott - hell, Charlie wasn’t certain how he would handle Scott.

“Mika, please - you have to believe me, I am not betraying The Arktos.” Though Juno tried to sound sincere, there was still a trace of anger and indignation at the accusation. “I’m trying to get to the bottom of this. We can save lives and further bloodshed, on both sides, if we learn the truth about what happened that night.”

“Why do you even care about those bloodsuckers?” Mika let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “No, Max will decide what will be done with you - with all of you.”

Charlie caught sight of Arthur staring at him, a fearful yet serious expression on his face: he had noticed the others closing in too. Charlie made a subtle gesture with his hand - wait - as he crouched down. He spread his hand across the ground, fingers splayed out.

“Hey!” Amy shouted. “What are you doing?”

Juno and Mika stopped talking when she shouted.

But Charlie didn’t respond. He heard heavy footsteps approach him, getting louder and louder. He heard Arthur cry out and hit the truck as Scott shoved him out of the way. Two booted feet stopped next to Charlie within his eye line.

“Get up,” the other man demanded.

“Sure,” Charlie said.

As he rose to his feet, Charlie curled his fingers around a handful of dry, dusty dirt, and flung it at Scott’s face.

Scott cried out and reared back, hands going to his head.

“Get to the truck!” Charlie shouted at Arthur.

Arthur gave a fast nod and ran over to the passenger side of Charlie’s truck with inhuman speed. He pulled open the door, but stopped, staring at something on the other side of the truck. “Charlie!” He cried out.

Charlie followed Arthur’s eye-line towards Amy. His eyes widened in shock.

With wet snaps and pops, Charlie watched as Amy’s facial features contorted and elongated, along with the muscle, sinew, and bone that made up her limbs and torso. Her golden hair spread down her forehead to her neck, her arms, her legs, everywhere that showed skin. White teeth poked out from a leonine snout, fingernails became deadly retractable claws, and a feline tail lashed angrily. She let out an animalistic roar.

Charlie heard more snaps and pops, and he whirled around to see that Scott, in his pain and confusion, had transformed as well, although he seemed to be of more lupine nature. And likewise, a black-furred, bipedal, lupine beast stood where Mika had been too.

“Oh shit,” Charlie breathed.

These people were lycanthropes.

He heard someone howl, and watched as a black and electric blue mass of fur darted in front of him and delivered a solid uppercut to the giant werewolf in front of him.

“Get moving!” Juno snarled at him through a wolf-like snout. Her voice had grown deeper, more bestial. “I’ll hold them off!”

Of course, none of them had ever fought against Juno, which had been a mistake Charlie had made when they first met.

He turned and made for the driver’s side just as the giant werewolf got the last bit of dirt out of his eyes, and he faced the black and electric blue werewolf that was Juno with a growl.

Charlie drove his shoulder into the werelion, putting his weight and momentum into the blow, and knocked her off her feet. Just as he got to the driver’s side though, he watched as Arthur hopped up into the tailgate.

“What are you doing?!” Charlie exclaimed.

“There’s another coming from behind us!” Arthur said, pointing to the forest across the street.

Charlie squinted, but all he could get was a glimpse at something small, fast, and running on all fours with a naked tail streaming behind it… but definitely humanoid.

Something moved in the reflection of the driver’s side window, and Charlie ducked as the werelion’s fist shattered the glass. She hissed at him in frustration.

Charlie kicked her in the stomach, pushing her away and giving himself some much needed breathing room.

“Take care of the newcomer, I’ll deal with this cat lady!” Charlie shouted at Arthur.

Charlie pushed himself away from his truck and advanced on the coughing werelion. He drew his fist back, saying a silent apology to the woman for hitting her-

And then he crashed into the ground again.

Charlie cried out as pain lanced through his shoulder. He twisted around to face his attacker, and the black-furred werewolf sitting on top of him clamped two claws over his hands and restrained him.

He struggled against the werewolf, but could do nothing but watch as something murine ran past him and the black werewolf, and leaped onto Juno’s back. The wererat dug its teeth into Juno’s shoulder, and she howled.

The giant werewolf saw his opening and drove his fists into her stomach, one after another, until Juno fell to her knees.

Charlie risked a glance at Arthur, and saw that the werelion had recovered her breath and had run over to the truck. She seized Arthur by the ankle, and slammed him to the ground.

Arthur spat out dirt from his mouth and cursed, but the werelion drove a knee into his back and restrained his arms behind him. He screamed, bucking and writhing, trying to free himself.

“I can’t- hold him!” The werelion growled.

“Then knock him out!” The black werewolf on top of Charlie snarled.

Charlie pulled his head back and smacked it against the black werewolf’s skull.

She let out a yelp, dazed, but Charlie’s own vision swam too. He blinked as three black werewolves shook their heads and growled at him.

He felt one of his hands get released, and the black werewolf palmed his head, lifted it up, and then slammed it against the ground.

And again.

And again.

And again.

Charlie couldn’t even muster up the strength to cry out, let alone continue to try and break free of the black werewolf’s grasp. Black started to creep up into his vision. Was this how he was going to die?

Pins and needles spread along his back and arms at the thought. Somehow the cold had found its way back to Charlie again.

There was nothing he could do though, but brace himself for the next slam.

But it never came.

The black werewolf had stopped. She held Charlie’s head aloft, prepared to smash his skull for a fifth time. Her brown eyes locked onto something in the distance.

Charlie heard a car door open and close.

And then a crackling bolt of golden energy struck the black werewolf

Her grip on Charlie went slack as she fell limply to the ground.

Charlie caught himself before his head hit the ground again, but he couldn’t hold himself up, and collapsed.

He watched as three more bolts of crackling golden energy lanced through the air above his head. It was all he could do to just simply stare up at the sky.

And then there was silence.

The black had grown past the corners of his eyes, and Charlie blinked furiously to keep it at bay.

He heard the ground crunch next to him as someone knelt down, and he saw the elderly face of Joanne Wallace, the owner of Timeless Treasures, peer down at him in concern.

“Are you alright?” Charlie heard her say. Her voice echoed. She sounded far away.

And then the black overtook him.

[The Traveler]

Chapter 6

Darkness. Nothing.

And then-

Charlie jolted awake with a gasp. His eyes darted around wildly, taking snapshots of the space he now found himself in:

Square coffee table in the middle of the room. Faded Persian rug on the floor. A TV on a console on the opposite side of the coffee table from him. A figure lying on an old couch with green cushions. He recognized the electric blue braids intermixed with black ones.

“Juno?” He called out groggily, and struggled to prop himself up onto his elbows.

 A thin figure that had escaped his notice started in the armchair closest to him.

“He’s awake!” A raspy voice called out in turn. He recognized the voice as Arthur.

Beyond the unfamiliar living room, he spotted two hallways and another figure walking through an archway that led into a kitchen. She paused at the threshold, putting a hand on the archway as she let out a relieved sigh.

“Oh, thank goodness.”

That voice was also familiar.

Joanne? Charlie thought. He blinked his eyes, and became aware of a throbbing in his skull.

Joanne crossed the living room over to his side. Gone were her apron and glasses, and instead she wore a deep, dark brown, practically black ribbed turtleneck, and a pair of wide leg slacks of the same color. Only the tight braid had remained, but now in the form of a braided ponytail. He couldn’t glean any useful information from the expression on her face as she sat down on the other couch closest to him.

“It’s alright,” Joanne assured him. “You’re safe here. I brought you back to my home.”

Charlie blinked at her, processing her words. He took the space in more completely a second time, before it finally sank in that there was no immediate danger. He settled back into the couch, noting the pillow underneath his head, and the white woven blanket that had been thrown across his person.

“How are you feeling?” Joanne continued.

He recalled headbutting a werewolf. Then the smell of musk from the hand that had clamped over his face as the werewolf had smashed his head against the hard ground, again, and again, and-

Charlie reached up to touch his forehead, his fingertips brushing against a soft bandage, and he winced in pain. He craned his neck forward, and felt a similar bandage on the back of his head.

 “...Fine, I think,” he finally spoke. He lowered his head back into the pillow, and turned it to look at Joanne. “My head hurts. But I’d be worried if it didn’t....”

Despite calming down, Charlie’s confusion remained.

“What happened?” He asked, unable to stop the questions from escaping. “How did I - how did we - get here? Is Juno okay? And why were you there? What was that golden energy - magic?”

Joanne leaned back into her seat. “Juno is fine. She was looked after by my assistant,” she told him, nodding at the sleeping Juno on the other couch. “He likely could have been a doctor in another life, so I asked him to take a look at you and Juno. She was more severely injured than you, but she’ll recover - you can thank her lycanthropic nature for that. She just needs some rest.”

Charlie looked back at his friend. She was curled towards the back of the couch, in as much of a fetal position as she could get, with her knees bent and her hands tucked underneath her cheek. Another woven blanket covered her up to her legs, though this one was burnt orange in color.

“As I said, I brought you back to my home,” Joanne carried on. “After the situation diffused, I spoke with Juno, and we came to realize that we were on the same side. You and her were injured, so I brought the two of you to my flat where you could rest and heal safely. Arthur, as you can see, came along as well. As for the ‘golden energy’...”

She lifted her hand, and a ribbon of golden light shimmered around it.

“I suppose it could be called ‘magic,’ as much as any innate supernatural ability can be called ‘magic’,” she answered. “But the truth is that I have the ability to manipulate bioelectricity - although I’m told by my family that each manifestation of this power is unique to the individual. What you saw earlier was me directing my power to the lycanthropes who were attacking you, and overloading the electrical impulses in their brains, causing them to fall unconscious.”

“You… you put them to sleep by shooting them with magic?” Charlie asked.

Joanne closed her eyes and let out a short breath. The ribbon of light extinguished itself and she lowered her hand back to her lap.

“Yes,” she said, opening her eyes again. “I put them to sleep by shooting them with magic.”

Charlie looked away; he hadn’t meant to offend her, but any sort of apology was lost to the cacophony of thoughts and questions still swirling in his mind.

“How long was I out for?” He asked next, changing the subject.

“Most of the day,” Joanne replied, her tone of voice becoming more even-tempered. “It’s evening now. Do you need anything, by the way? Food, tea, water?”

“Oh, uh… I’ll just take some water. Thank you,” Charlie answered.

He slowly pulled himself to a sitting position on the couch, turning so his feet touched the floor. Joanne stood up from her chair, and made her way into the kitchen.

Once she was distracted, Charlie turned his head to Arthur.

“Is she telling the truth?” He asked quietly.

Arthur looked at the kitchen, then back at Charlie. He gave a nod.

“Yeah, she is,” he whispered back. “You know her?”

“She was who I interviewed with yesterday,” Charlie explained. “So I know a little, but I don’t really know much about her either-”

He stopped talking as Joanne re-entered the living room. She handed the glass of water to Charlie, who accepted it with a quick thank-you. After taking a sip, he set the glass down on the coffee table, and let out a sigh.

“I’ve stumbled across something big, haven’t I?” The words came tumbling out again. “Juno talked about a war, before those lycans attacked us. Why were you there? Who are you?”

Joanne gave another faint smile. “I hope you can understand that I can ask the same thing of you,” she pointed out. “Why were [i[you[/i] there, who exactly are you?”

“I…” Charlie began, but trailed off, caught off guard. “I guess that’s a fair point.”

“It is. You should be aware that you aren’t above scrutiny either,” Joanne said. She leaned back into the couch, folding her hands together in her lap and staring at Charlie keen astuteness. “You, a necromancer, who showed up at Nobody’s days after the fighting started, with none other than the very vampire neonate who sparked the war in tow.”

Charlie felt his heart start to pound in his chest. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand in an attempt to look nonchalant, despite his brain going into overdrive trying to figure out how she knew.

“I was there, yeah, but not with Arthur in tow. He had broken into my apartment the night before, and had mistaken me for the vampire that turned him - which, I still need to understand why, at some point,” Charlie deviated slightly, pointing at Arthur before continuing.

“I told him I’d help him find this vampire, but of course he wanted to go back to Nobody’s first to find the ‘blue woman’ he had attacked, so when I discovered that he had vanished from my apartment this morning, Nobody’s was the first place I went to go look for him,” he explained, perhaps a little too defensively. “And…”

He looked at Arthur, then at Juno, still asleep on the couch.

“If you created this vampire with your weird necromantic magic-”

Charlie sighed and shook his head gently, before looking back at Joanne. “Juno told you about the necromancy, didn’t she?”

“She and I spoke at length. Same with Arthur,” Joanne confirmed with a nod. “And you were a topic of conversation.”

“Then you should know that they both trust me,” Charlie responded. “And… that I don’t really know much when it comes to necromancy. Or magic. Or the supernatural. I can guess at a lot, and most of the time I’m right or on the right track, but not always. You can thank my studies for that. I didn’t start this…war between these lycanthropes and vampires that are in the city. Hell, I didn’t even know that there were vampires and lycanthropes here. I just moved to Roanoke.”

“I remember you telling me that, in your interview.” Some semblance of feeling returned to Joanne, partially closing the emotional distance she had erected moments earlier. “Juno did speak favorably of you, actually, as did Arthur. But I wanted to form my own opinion of you, not just of Charlie the would-be jeweler who occasionally enchants his work, but also of Charlie the person who looks after and protects a vampire neonate and a werewolf on the run.”

“And?” Charlie prompted.

“To be determined.” Joanne smiled. “We are still having a conversation, after all. So, as much as you have questions for me, I will still have questions for you, too.”

“Well, you already know about my family curse, so I’ve got nothing more to hide, really,” Charlie remarked, holding his hands out.

“Good. I expect that you’ll be more forthright about your use of magic than you were in your interview, then,” Joanne said. “But, as for your questions: do you want me to answer the one about the war first, or about myself?”

Charlie looked down at his glass of water as he thought.

He barely knew anything about Joanne, whereas she had been able to discern or ferret out much more about himself. All he knew was that she was a jeweler and a store owner. And that she had more experience with magic and the supernatural than he did; that much had been evident in the parking lot, even though Charlie had only glimpsed at the action.

He glanced at Arthur, who had lost interest in the conversation and was now picking dirt out from underneath his fingernails.

“War first,” he decided, before adding, “please.”

[The Traveler]

Chapter 7

"What do you know already?” Joanne asked Charlie.

“I know that Arthur was the… trigger, I suppose, for this vampire and lycanthrope war, when he attacked Juno,” Charlie answered, nodding at the inattentive Arthur. “He told me his story, and what happened to him. And I got bits and pieces from Juno. She’s the one who told me that there was a war, but that it was more than just a vampire attacking a werewolf. That…”

He furrowed his brow, trying to remember. A lot of things had happened in a short amount of time.

“...That Arthur wasn’t actually on the side of the vampires?” He mumbled. “No, he… he wasn’t turned by a Muntano vampire, that’s what it was. Is that the name of their group?”

“Close. They’re known as House Munteanu,” Joanne informed him. “Their lycanthrope adversaries are simply known as The Arktos. And you would be correct - Arthur wasn’t turned by anyone from House Munteanu. It certainly begs the question who did, and why.”

She paused, pursing her lips in thought. She regarded Charlie for a moment before continuing.

“I was there this morning because the events at Nobody’s concerned me,” she said. “I like to keep my finger on the pulse of the supernatural world here in Roanoke - if I don't, I'm liable to miss something that might harm others or might harm myself. I learned what had happened from the bar’s proprietor, a capricious fey being who goes by Cardinal, and I went there today in an effort to confirm his story. I’m not on any side of this so-called war, but I am concerned enough about it that I’m involving myself to try and resolve it before it inevitably spills over and harms innocents. As for the war itself-”

Joanne’s gaze went over to the sleeping Juno.

“I don’t want to speak for your lycanthropic friend, but she shared several details with me while you were unconscious,” she murmured. “Much of what she said supports Cardinal’s story. And you seem hungry for answers.”

Charlie paused, then gave a single nod. “I wouldn’t call myself hungry for answers, but I’d like to know what’s going on, yeah,” he murmured.

He rubbed the base of his thumbs in apprehension, waiting for Joanne to continue.

“About a week ago, three Munteanu vampires were found dead in a cave system in Arktos land by the lycanthropes,” Joanne began. “Tensions between House Munteanu and The Arktos had been unusually high as of late, so you can imagine that The Arktos were not happy to find vampires in their compound. When word about this incident made its way back to House Munteanu, they were not pleased about it either. Still, miraculously, the heads of each faction decided to try and resolve the situation peacefully, which was why they occupied Nobody’s Bar and Grill a few days later.”

“They were found dead?” Charlie asked. “Not killed by any of The Arktos?”

Joanne gave a shrug, signifying her lack of knowledge. “There are still a lot of unknowns,” she answered. “My understanding is that Juno doesn’t believe that The Arktos killed them, but I personally can’t rule that out without seeing the bodies. The same thing could be said as to why the vampires were there in the first place, although it’s more likely that they had been sent by the matriarch of House Munteanu; I can’t imagine them wandering into those caves by mistake.”

“I guess that would depend on how big this cave system is,” Charlie murmured.

“Perhaps,” Joanne acknowledged with a nod. “Regardless, you are likely aware of what happened next: Arthur, a newly turned vampire, wandered in and attacked Juno, turning the cold war between the vampires and lycanthropes into a hot one.”

“And you said this happened a few days ago?” Charlie asked “What’s House Munteanu and The Arktos done since then?”

“From what Juno’s told me, it seems that The Arktos has holed themselves up in their territory for the time-being and are trying to find and plug the holes in their security, but that their leader wants to make this war short. As for House Munteanu, I can only speculate,” Joanne admitted. “But I can’t imagine that their leader would sit by and wait for The Arktos to make the first move.”

Charlie nodded slowly, absorbing all of the information that Joanne had provided.

“Guess it’s your turn now,” he said, before reaching for his glass of water. “Ask away.”

“Why did you continue to lie when I asked you about enchanting your ring?” Joanne inquired immediately.

“Same reason I didn’t come right out and tell you that I’m cursed with necromancy,” Charlie answered. He took another drink of water. “I’m used to keeping it in the dark. It caught me off guard, too. And I didn’t know you. Still don’t, really.”

“Fear, then,” Joanne concluded in a soft voice.

Charlie opened his mouth to defend himself, but found he didn’t have a good argument. He set the empty glass back down on the coffee table.

“I guess,” he agreed reluctantly. “My father discouraged the use of magic and of me trying to learn more about necromancy. Some of his irrational fears probably rubbed off on me by extension. But I’d also ask you, do you openly practice magic or manipulate bio-electricity in front of others?”

“It depends on the situation and who I’m with,” Joanne answered.

“Exactly. Except, in my case, it’s just been me the entire time, trying to figure it all out on my own.” Charlie leaned back into the couch’s cushions. “I don’t know how necromancy is perceived by the supernatural, but if it’s anything like comics and books and movies and TV shows, I can’t imagine it’s good. That’s why I hide it and any sort of magic that I do, too.”

“And what do you believe?”

Charlie hesitated, uncertain how much he should reveal.

“I don’t know yet,” he admitted. “I’ve been told it’s a curse all my life, but it’s barely affected me. I get a sense for when people die or are about to die, or where death likes to linger, such as in hospitals or after natural disasters, but that’s it. It’s unpleasant, but not… evil, I suppose. Though, I imagine it’s been used for evil far more than for good.”

“How would you use it for good?”

Charlie let out a long breath and tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling, thinking on how to answer Joanne’s question. “If mythology has taught me anything about necromancy, death, and the underworld, it’s that it’s a bad idea to try and resurrect people or to try and chase after immortality. So, not that,” he answered. “It feels weird to try and summon human remains, almost like I’m desecrating them, but the thing that makes up the person isn’t there anymore, so… it doesn’t seem as taboo to me. But, still, out of respect for the beliefs of others, I don’t think I would go raising zombies from their graves on a whim. It would probably be out of necessity, or self-defense. As for souls… I don’t know. I haven’t been able to summon a soul yet, much less interact with one.”

“Interact with one?” Joanne repeated.

“Ghosts,” Charlie said simply.

“Ah, I see.” Joanne nodded in understanding. “Well. I suppose I should return the favor, and tell you about myself now.”

Charlie gave a nod.

“Well, as you are aware, I am a jeweler, watchmaker, and fellow enchanter, but I am also what you would call… “ Joanne trailed off, pursing her lips in thought before deciding on a word. “...An arcanist. Someone knowledgeable in the arcane and in the supernatural, and who has a vested interest in protecting humanity from arcane and supernatural threats.”

Charlie raised a curious eyebrow, but didn’t interrupt her.

“I moved to Roanoke several years ago and established my shop at that time too,” Joanne continued. “My late friend Giovanna helped me connect with the community here not only as an enchanter and protector, but also as a teacher: I strive to pass on what I know about the principles and fundamentals of magic to those in Roanoke who want to learn it. But, I don’t belong to any group, faction, or what-have-you. Much like how I am an independent business owner, I am also independent in all of my other roles too.”

Charlie felt his heart start to beat faster again, but instead of anxiety, it was excitement that propelled it.

She knows about magic. And she’s a teacher. She can teach me.

No, no. She doesn’t know about necromancy.

But she knows about MAGIC, and specializes in the fundamentals. Even if that’s not necromancy, maybe it could help me learn how to use it better and quicker-

“Enchanter, protector, and teacher,” Charlie summed up with a murmur, nodding slowly. Though he tried to hold it at bay, his excitement at the prospect of finding a teacher overrode his seriousness about the situation with the vampires and the lycanthropes. “Would- would you be willing to teach me?”

“About what, specifically?” Joanne inquired.

“Magic,” Charlie answered. “Enchantment too. And if I’m still up for consideration for your assistant jeweler’s position, I guess that too.”

Joanne remained silent for a moment, staring at Charlie.

“Unfortunately, it looks like I’ll need to close my store for the time being while this conflict is occurring, so I’m not going to be filling that position just yet,” she finally answered him. “That said… I would be willing to take you on as an apprentice, and teach you about enchantments and the fundamentals of magic. But there is a condition.”

"Oh - oh, okay, what is it?" Charlie asked.

"I cannot devote all of my time to giving you formal lessons," Joanne said. "As I've explained, I've taken a keen interest in this war; I’m worried about it spilling over and harming others. If you are to be my student, you will help me uncover the truth behind it. Consider it… on-the-job training.”

Charlie blinked, taken aback.

You should have expected that. She said as much already.

Charlie did want to learn about magic, and he did want to get involved with the supernatural underworld.

He just didn’t expect to do so like this.

“You should know that Juno is of the same mind as I am,” Joanne continued. “She also wants to find out what exactly happened that night at Nobody’s in order to prevent more unnecessary bloodshed. Arthur is key to that as well, but I am not going to force him to stay."

“I don’t have anywhere else to go,” Arthur spoke up. He raised his head, looking between Charlie and Joanne. “And... I'd like to understand why I was changed.”

“Is he going to be safe here?” Charlie asked. “Safe with you and Juno?”

“Of course,” Joanne said. “Arthur is an innocent in all of this, despite his new state of existence. While I can’t say he won’t be in danger, I would do my utmost to protect him - though, I’m certain he is also capable of defending himself now against supernatural threats, too.”

“Good.” Charlie nodded slowly. “Good…”

He was silent for a moment, a look of contemplation on his face.

“Thank you for looking after me while I was unconscious,” he told Joanne. “And for getting my head looked at, along with filling me in on all of the craziness. I’m tempted by your offer, but I’m unfortunately going to have to decline.”

Charlie stood up carefully, and addressed Arthur next.

“You’re going to be fine with Joanne,” he told him. “I know she’s not the vampire that turned you, but you heard her, she’s more knowledgeable about the supernatural than the both of us combined, and it sounds like she's going to eventually be tracking him down anyway. She can help you."

“You’re talking like you’re not planning on staying,” Arthur asked in a whisper, his eyes widening. “Why? What about Juno?”

Charlie hesitated. His gaze drifted towards his friend on the couch.

“I… I can’t help her.” He looked back at Arthur. “And I can’t help you any more than I already have, either. I’ve done what I can; anything more is asking too much of me.”

Arthur breathed heavily, mouth open, his face scrunched up like he was in pain. Maybe it was the dim light playing tricks on him, but Charlie could have sworn he saw Arthur’s eyes become more vivid in color.

“I- no- you need to- “ Arthur’s speech faltered, and confusion crossed his face. He reached up and put his hands on either side of his head, before fisting locks of hair between his fingers.

Charlie’s first instinct was to step forward and offer additional words of assurance to his new friend(?), but he caught sight of Arthur’s fangs amidst his distress, and halted in his tracks.

The memory of the hungry look Arthur had given him when they first met resurfaced in Charlie’s mind.

Arthur might be a friend, but he was also a dangerous and unpredictable…thing that hunted humans now.

Humans like Charlie.

“Charlie.”

Joanne’s calm voice cut through his thoughts. He felt the tension leave his body.

Charlie blinked, and gave his head a quick shake. He glanced back at Joanne.

“I know you are unable to stay and help, but perhaps in the interest of keeping in touch, we should exchange telephone numbers,” Joanne suggested.

“...Yeah.” Charlie directed his attention back to Arthur, who had slowly begun to let go of his hair and calm down upon hearing Joanne. “Yeah, that’s not a bad idea.”

“Good.” Joanne stood up. “We can share our numbers while I walk you out to your truck.”

She headed towards the hallway that led to the stairs, and stopped at the landing proper before she turned back to face the living room, waiting for Charlie.

Charlie hadn’t moved yet; he hadn’t taken his eyes off of Arthur yet either, waiting for the vampire to become more visibly calm before he attempted a farewell again.

“We’ll keep in touch,” he finally said once Arthur reached that point. “It’s a promise.”

Arthur just gave a silent, curt nod.

Charlie lingered for a second longer, before finally moving and joining Joanne to head down the stairs. The wood creaked with each step he took, and he rattled off his telephone number to Joanne. Once they reached the bottom of the stairs, Joanne handed him a business card - the one she used for shop - but on the back written in pen was, presumably, her personal telephone number.

“Thank you,” he said, stepping aside so Joanne could take the lead. He tucked the business card into his jacket pocket.

“You and Arthur have a peculiar relationship,” Joanne commented. She went through the door at the end of the stairs into a new hallway, and Charlie recognized it as the back hallway from her store.

“He just reminds me of some of my friends in college,” Charlie said. He followed Joanne down to the end of the hall and out another door, where the crisp night air greeted them. Clouds obscured the night sky, blocking the light from the stars and the moon. “When they got themselves into trouble and had no idea what to do, they would usually go to me for help. Some of it was their fault, some of it wasn’t, but I felt obligated to help since they were in over their heads. Still, made me grateful that I was an only child.”

“You see him as a younger sibling?”

Charlie shrugged as they stopped beside his truck, parked along the street. “I’ve only known him for a day; he seems more attached than I am. Not that I don’t care - obviously I wouldn’t try to help him if I didn’t care, but… I mean, you saw how anxious he got up there at the prospect of me leaving. But if I was in his shoes, not knowing about the supernatural and suddenly being thrust into it, I’d be looking for and clinging to any sort of stability I could find, and I wouldn’t want to let it go either.”

As soon as he said those words, paranoia got the better of him, and Charlie glanced over his shoulder back at the building. The door remained shut.

“You and I are fortunate,” Joanne said. “We can choose - most of the time - how much we want to engage with the supernatural underworld. For someone like Arthur, however…he’ll need to live in it for the rest of his life.”

Guilt welled up in Charlie at her words.

“I can’t help,” he insisted. “As much as I want to, after today… I’m pretty sure I would be a hindrance at best, and dead at worst. I can’t get involved in this- this war between the vampire house and The Arktos. I sincerely hope that Juno and Arthur will be alright, I really do, and one day I do want to learn more about magic and necromancy, truly, I’m not at all taking your offer lightly especially since I was the one who asked first, but…”

He trailed off, raising his hand in the air and putting it on the handle of his truck as he searched for the words he wanted to convey.

“...I know my limits, is what I’m trying to say,” Charlie said. “But I do recognize what you’re saying, and that privilege of being able to choose isn’t lost on me. One day I’ll wade into the supernatural underworld to try and learn more about that stuff, and, there’s a good chance I won’t want to come out. I’ll probably even be able to handle dealing with a war, like you seem to be able to. But I can’t do that now. Not when I know I’m not equipped to handle something like that.”

Joanne folded her arms in front of her chest as she listened to Charlie.

“When you find yourself looking for a teacher again, my offer still stands - I would be more than willing to take you on as an apprentice,” she informed him. “I don’t know much about necromancy, but I do know about the arcane. Strengthening your understanding of magic can only enhance your supernatural ability, along with the enchantments that you apply to your projects.”

“I…I appreciate that,” Charlie answered. “And again, I’ll definitely take you up on that, once everything calms down.”

He glanced back at the building, his gaze going to a second floor window.

“Good luck,” he told Joanne. “And…let Juno know that I wish her luck too.”

They bid each other farewell, and then Charlie hopped into his truck, before turning the engine on and pulling away from Timeless Treasures.

[The Traveler]

Chapter 8

By the time Charlie drove back to his apartment, the lamp posts along the street had turned on to illuminate the roads that cut between the blocks of the city. A far cry from his sleepy childhood town of Tazewell. He was never afraid of the things that went bump in the night back there, but…

He never expected to run into some of those things here. So soon.

Sure, Olympia’s Middlefaire was an exception. Kind of. He had only met Juno at that time, when he was working as a staff member at the fair and there had been the issue of the full moon and her needing help-

You’re getting off track.

Of what, my mind aimlessly wandering?

You’re afraid.

“Yeah,” Charlie muttered as he pulled into the underground parking garage. “Yeah, I guess I am.”

He continued to ponder the day’s events (or what he experienced of them) as he pulled his keys out of the ignition and kicked the door open, clambering out of his truck.

He had made the right choice. He was certain of it. Joanne was a more than competent magic user (arcanist, arcanist, that was the word she used - he should try to use it too), so she would be able to protect and help Arthur more than he ever could. Same thing with Juno - although for her, it was more like protecting the lycanthrope from herself.

He stuck his hands in his pockets and pulled out Joanne’s business card, turning it over to look at her personal phone number.

And besides, Joanne’s offer was still open to him, whenever he wanted to take it.

Charlie was tempted. But as much as he wanted to learn more about magic, about necromancy, he also valued his life. The fact that his would-be teacher wanted to involve herself in a war between vampires and lycanthropes, when it was really none of her business… well, sure, she might be capable, but Charlie wasn’t. And he wasn’t about to tempt fate either.

His brain on autopilot while he thought deeply about his choices, it didn’t register to Charlie that he had already made it to the elevator and arrived on his floor until he heard the ding of the elevator, and the doors opened before him.

He stuck the business card back into his pockets and continued down the hall to his apartment.

I just… wish I could’ve talked to Juno. Gotten her side of the story, Charlie thought as he pulled his keys out. Though I guess I could call her, if she’s planning on staying at Joanne’s place while they sort everything out.

And Arthur.

Charlie let out a sigh.

He was just a kid, caught up all in this mess. If Charlie felt bad about anything, it would be leaving Arthur feeling like Charlie had abandoned him. He hoped the new vampire - vampire neonate, that’s what Joanne had called him - understood his true intentions: that he had helped him to the best of his limited ability, and that it was a boon that Joanne had come across them in the parking lot of Nobody’s when she did.

“I need to figure out how to keep track of all of these terms,” Charlie muttered to himself as he finally stuck his key into the door.

Wait.

His door was unlocked.

Charlie’s heartbeat sky-rocketed as he slowly pulled his key out of the door.

Shit. Not again.

No, no, it’s the landlord. Has to be. Yeah.

Yeah.

Oh who am I kidding.

Is it another vampire? A lycanthrope? Did they find where I lived based on my scent?

Charlie threw up his guard as he slowly turned the doorknob and stepped inside his apartment, his hand reaching over and grasping the umbrella he kept by the door for rainy days.

The lights were on inside and his apartment had been trashed. Drawers and cabinets pulled open in the kitchen, dining chairs knocked askew, lamps knocked onto the ground, and his couch cushions had been ripped and torn apart.

He heard a soft masculine voice coming from his bedroom. Charlie crept forward as quietly as he could. The door was ajar, and he carefully pushed it open a little bit more to peer inside.

He couldn’t see anything from his vantage point - all he could see was his closet, which had been thrown open, and his bed, which had been upturned; his bedroom door blocked the rest of his view of the bedroom.

There. Movement.

He watched as a tall, thin figure dressed in a long black coat crossed to the other side of the door, striding over to his bedroom window. He caught a glimpse of his face, but he moved so quickly that all Charlie got was the impression of a white face and medium-length brown hair pulled back into a low ponytail. But the figure turned back to survey the room, a faint smirk on his face, and Charlie got a better look at the individual.

His face was pallid and rather sickly-looking, lacking any sort of color, and around his neck Charlie saw a raggedy blue-and-gray striped scarf poking above his jacket. His most notable feature, however, was his vivid, almost glowing, green eyes that peered across his room in smug satisfaction.

Vampire, Charlie realized.

He watched as the vampire tucked a book inside his jacket, and several things clicked into place as Charlie glanced back at his overturned mattress.

His book. He had to move, now.

Charlie flung the door open and raced across the room towards the vampire, brandishing his umbrella as a makeshift weapon.

He failed to notice the body lying on the floor, however, and instead of smashing the vampire’s arrogant face with the umbrella, he tripped over the motionless figure on the ground and careened to the floor with a dull thud.

Shaking his pounding head in confusion, he looked around to see what had tripped him. His eyes widened as he recognized the gray-black chevron mustache.

Dad.

“Oh, now this will be useful too.”

It was the same soft masculine voice he had heard before. It was oddly melodic - or perhaps whimsical? Charlie had no idea how to describe the stranger’s voice. He just knew it unnerved him.

But all of that was an afterthought compared to the fact that his father…that his dad…

He felt the umbrella slip out of his limp grasp, but he didn’t care that the vampire had stolen it from him, didn’t care that the vampire had stolen Piscinarius’s book.

Charlie scrambled on his hands and knees over to his father’s side, and searched for any sign that he was still alive.

Faint pulse. Light breathing. Unconscious. Not dead. Robert was alive.

Charlie sat back and let out a ragged breath of relief.

Vampire, his brain reminded him, and Charlie jumped, jerking his head back to his window.

Nothing.

His window was open, the cold wind bringing the smell of petrichor inside.

The vampire was gone.

“Fuck,” Charlie breathed, bringing his fists up to press against his pounding forehead. They brought no relief. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

The lights flickered on and off above him, and he watched as frost began to creep up onto the glass of the window. Charlie shut his eyes.

Calm down. Calm down. It’s okay. Dad’s okay. The fact that another vampire broke into your house… isn’t okay, but you can deal with it. It’s okay. Just calm down.

He felt something soft brush against his side, and two small paws pressed into his thigh. He opened his eyes to look at his cat Purrsephone, and he immediately scooped her up into his arms, holding her, petting her head, breathing heavily.

Bit by bit, his heartbeat slowed to match that of her purring. The lights ceased flickering, remaining off, and the frost had all but melted off of the window.

Charlie let out one last deep breath, before loosening his hold on his cat and looking down at her.

“Thanks Percy,” he murmured. “You’re a good girl.”

Charlie set her down on the ground, and turned his attention to his father.

Robert was alive, yes, but he didn’t look so good. Charlie noted the blood trickling out from his forehead, his slashed clothes, the bite marks on his neck. He could staunch the blood and roughly dress the wounds, but if the vampire had drained him of blood…

Charlie recalled Arthur’s story of how he became a vampire, and what had happened to his friend Jennifer.

Wounds first. Stop the bleeding. Then try to wake him up.

Charlie got to his feet and went over to the bathroom where he kept a meager first aid kit, bringing it back into his bedroom. He knelt beside his father, and began to take care of his injuries the best he could.

It was as he was trying to figure out how best to tackle the slashed claw marks on his torso that Charlie heard Robert start to stir and groan.

“Dad?” Charlie set aside the roll of bandages and shifted over to kneel by his head. “Dad, are you alright? Can you hear me?”

“Charles?” Robert mumbled. He tried to sit up, but Charlie laid a hand on his shoulder to stop him.

“Don’t sit up - you were attacked,” Charlie told him, but Robert frowned and waved away at his son, pushing himself up. He winced and groaned again, his hand going to his head.

“Told you,” Charlie muttered. “I’m guessing you hit your head. But your neck and chest actually got the worst of it, I think. You might’ve lost blood too. Do you hurt anywhere else?”

“N-no…” Robert mumbled. Though sitting, he seemed to sway slightly, and his eyes blinked haphazardly.

That didn’t seem good.

“Do you remember what happened?” Charlie asked. “Why were you at my apartment? Do you remember the vampire?”

“Vampire?” Robert repeated, turning to finally look at Charlie. “No, I… I came by to drop a few things off ‘fore I left for home. Someone else was already in here. Shoulda listened to my gut - somethin’ didn’t feel right, but I need to…”

He trailed off, and looked very slowly around the bedroom.

“Where did it go?” He muttered.

“Where did… where did what go?” Charlie prompted, confused.

“The stuff I was gonna give you. It’s not here.”

“I - look, Dad, you lost a lot of blood, we need to get you to a hospital- ”

“No.” Robert’s answer came out forceful and direct. “No hospitals, Charles.”

“No, fuck your stupid phobia of hospitals, you need a transfusion so you don’t fucking die!” Charlie shot back.

Even as he said that, his stomach twisted in discomfort. There was always this… this tension, this pressure in the air, within those buildings. And though it wasn’t often that people died, it still occurred with enough frequency that it almost generated an… an aura of death, at least for Charlie. It was uncomfortable. It was unpleasant. If he could avoid it, he would, but he could also deal with the feeling if it meant that in return, he got life-saving treatment.

He assumed his father experienced the same feeling, but had a much different reaction to it than his son.

Robert steeled his gaze on Charlie as best he could in his fugue state.

“It’s not a phobia,” he grumbled. “I set one foot in a hospital, either you or I are not coming out of there alive. It’s fact. I’m not leaving this apartment if you are taking me to a hospital. Take me somewhere else to get blood.”

“What, you think I can’t manhandle you to a hospital in your state?” Charlie shot back. He let out a breath at his angry words, and tried to calm himself down.

He’ll still try and fight you even if you try to forcefully drag him to a hospital, stubborn old man that he is, Charlie thought. He’ll hurt himself even more by doing so.

That wasn’t something Charlie was willing to gamble with.

“At least let me take care of the wounds on your chest and stomach, if you won’t go to a hospital,” he compromised.

Robert looked down at his torso, taking in his torn clothes and the blood oozing out from the slashes on his body. He gave a curt nod, and remained quiet as Charlie bandaged him up.

The sudden quiet finally gave Charlie the opportunity to reel from everything that had occurred since stepping foot in his apartment.

A vampire had broken into his apartment (again). Looking for something. Arthur? No. He had left with Charlie’s spellbook. That’s what he had been looking for. Why? Did House Munteanu practice magic? How did they even know about him? He was just an untrained necromancer. There had to be a connection to Arthur, somewhere. Maybe the vampire didn’t want to leave empty handed when he didn’t find Arthur?

Dad must’ve come by during the vampire’s search, Charlie concluded as he finished the last bandage. Probably minutes before I came home.

Robert must’ve put up a good enough fight to warrant such a drastic blood drain, or the vampire had been fast and efficient enough to be able to drain his father of a significant amount of blood to make him confused and lethargic. Charlie hoped it was the former, but more realistically it was probably the latter.

He stared at his dazed father in silence.

What the hell was he going to do?

He had shed Arthur. There shouldn’t be a target on his back, and yet there was.

Joanne’s words from earlier, or at least a truncated version of them, came to him again.

“You and I are fortunate. We can choose how much we want to engage with the supernatural underworld.”

But what if it was the other way around?

What if, by choosing to help Arthur, Charlie had already plunged headfirst into the supernatural underworld already? And there was no way out for him?

No way out for his father, who had gotten injured due to Charlie’s carelessness? Who might’ve died?

He felt the wind carry more than petrichor as it blew against the back of his neck, the first few drops of cold autumn rain landing on his skin. It sent a shiver down Charlie’s back.

What if it wasn’t even a choice?

Charlie shoved his hands into the pockets of his jacket, and he felt the business card again. He pulled it out and stared down at the name, phone, and email of Timeless Treasures, before flipping it over to stare at Joanne’s personal phone number written on the back.

“It doesn’t matter how,” he realized with a mutter. “I’m already involved, for better or for worse.”

Didn’t Joanne mention something about an assistant that was good at medicine?

“Wha-?” Robert said, tilting his head up when he heard his son say something.

“Nothing.” Charlie shoved the business card back into his pocket. “I think I know a place where you can get some help. Come on - I need to drop Percy off with the neighbors, and then we’ll go.”

He pulled himself up onto his feet, and with great effort, pulled his father up to stand too.

[The Traveler]

Chapter 9

“Damn,” Charlie muttered as he shifted his truck into park. He peered out his window to stare through the rain at the dark windows of Timeless Treasures.

Back at his apartment, Charlie had managed to get his father into a proper chair in the living room, making sure he wouldn’t tip over, while he went over to the phone mounted on his wall and tried calling Joanne’s personal phone first, and then Timeless Treasures. Both had gone straight to voicemail. He hadn't seen her wear a pager, but left messages on both machines, in case she did and he had just missed seeing one.

Still. The unanswered phones had left Charlie with a feeling of dread - but also with a next step: driving back to Timeless Treasures and Joanne’s flat to see if she and everyone else were still even there. He had hoped they were; he hadn’t been gone for that long, nothing bad could have happened to them. Right?

Charlie was beginning to think that wasn’t the case as he peered up to the second story, and noted that the windows were dark up there too.

“I’m going to go out and try the doors,” he said, turning to look back at his father, who sat in the passenger seat of his truck, holding onto a small cardboard box of junk.

After Charlie had briefly left his apartment with Purrsephone and all of her cat toys and supplies in tow to see if the neighbors would watch her while he took care of his dad (which Mr. and Mrs. Tran graciously assured him that they would), he had returned to find his father stumbling into his kitchen and looking for that “box of stuff” he had mentioned earlier. With a sharp word of assurance that Charlie would find it for him, so long as he sat down, Charlie had done as promised, and had found the box hiding behind and partially beneath a toppled over a white plastic trash can.

Charlie had glanced inside the box out of curiosity, but all he had gleaned of its contents were some old books (which were interesting, but likely pulled from Robert’s own bookshelves), a shawl he had never seen before, and a miscellaneous amount of antiques that Charlie couldn’t even begin to identify.

Still, one man’s trash was certainly one man’s treasure, as once Charlie had found the box and given it back to his father, Robert hadn’t let go of it since (which made carrying him to Charlie’s truck quite the interesting endeavor).

“Stay inside, okay?” Charlie continued, looking at his father in concern.

Robert gave a tired nod. The lack of stubborn opposition only added to the feeling of dread pooling in Charlie’s stomach.

He turned the engine off, but left the truck on so that Robert could stay warm, and ventured out into the ceaseless drizzle of rain, shutting the door behind him.

He tried the front door of Timeless Treasures first, though he didn't expect it to be unlocked. When his suspicions were confirmed, Charlie went around to the side of the building to the door that had led to the back part of the store and to Joanne's flat. Also locked.

He circled around the building to make sure there were no other entrances that he didn't know about, but those two doors had been all he had seen. There were also no vehicles parked outside or around the building either, though Charlie had spied a commercial garage door on the back of the building. Joanne's car could have been parked inside there, but if there was an exterior button or keypad for Charlie to push to open it, he hadn't seen it in the dark.

Back at the front, he climbed back into his truck to give himself a break from the rain. The noise reduced to the drops pattering against the glass of the windshield, slightly muffled.

“Doors are locked,” Charlie told Robert. He rubbed his hands together, placing them in front of the heat vents. “The only other thing I can think of doing is making a lot of noise to see if someone inside can hear me, or finding some window I can crawl into. Or break.”

Even as he said that though, Charlie dismissed the idea with a frown. This was a jewelry store; it would look like he was robbing the place if he broke in, whether by door or by window.

“You sure they're not just sleeping, whoever it is that's here?” Robert mumbled.

Charlie opened his mouth, then closed it. He glanced back towards the building. Locked doors. Shuttered windows on the storefront, he was just now noticing. No light inside.

He had assumed, given how his day had gone, that House Munteanu or The Arktos had found Joanne, Juno, and Arthur, like they had found Charlie. But Joanne had touted herself as a formidable arcanist, so, it was also possible that they were safe and were simply sleeping, the phones unplugged so that they would not ring in the night.

Even if that is the case, I want to make sure. I wouldn't forgive myself if I assumed wrong, Charlie thought.

“Even if they are sleeping, you're hurt and you need help, and you refuse to go to a hospital. So I need to wake them up,” he said to his father. “I'll be back shortly. Stay awake, okay?”

Charlie exited his truck once again and made a beeline for the side door, skidding to a halt in front of it. He pounded as hard as he could against the door.

“HEY!” He shouted. “HEY! Joanne! Juno! Arthur! You in there? It's me, Charlie! Open up! I need help!”

He did it a second time, and a third, adding variation to his shouts. When he received no response, he resorted to throwing rocks (gently, he didn't want to break glass) at one of the second story windows, continuing to yell in desperation, even adding that his dad had been hurt badly by a vampire. He hoped there was no one else around in the rain - he imagined he looked and sounded like a madman.

Still nothing. Either all three of them were deep sleepers, or they weren't here.

Or they're dead, came the intrusive thought.

Panic nearly overtook Charlie, until he remembered that if that were the case, his curse would have given him some sort of hint of death within this place.

He wiped the water out of his eyes, and then ran his hands over his head, squeezing the excess rain out of his hair with a frustrated huff. Then, he turned around and walked back to his truck for the second time.

Only to find his dad standing in front of the window that held the painted Timeless Treasures lettering, hunched in the rain.

“Dad, get back in the truck!” Charlie barked at him, stalking over to his side.

Robert turned slightly towards his son, and with a drooping arm, pointed at the lettering.

“Says it opens at 9:00AM 'morrow,” he mumbled. “Let's go back to your apartment and rest. Come back after it opens. If it's not open, then no one's here. It's late, Charles.”

“You need to get looked at,” Charlie insisted.

Robert shook his head. “If I was on death's door, you and I would know it.”

“The way you're treating yourself right now, you're on the fast track to it!”

“I'll be fine with a little bit of rest, Charles.”

Charlie inhaled a deep breath, and pinched the bridge of his nose with his fingers. The stubbornness was returning. That was a good sign, in Charlie's mind. He wasn't certain he liked the serenity that accompanied it, though. Nothing about Robert had ever been serene - more like stoic, its sterner cousin.

Then again, maybe it was exhaustion that was affecting Robert right now. Charlie could feel the onset of exhaustion himself, though the adrenaline coursing through his body helped keep it at bay.

“Yeah, okay. Fine. You're not going to die now,” Charlie conceded. “But you need to recover, not stand out here in the rain. I'm not sure if 'rest' is all that you need, but it's better than standing out here in the rain or sitting in a truck. We can't go back to my apartment though. It's not safe.”

“We can go back to the hotel I was staying at,” Robert murmured. “Can probably book another night.”

He didn't go back to Tazewell after lunch yesterday? Charlie wondered.

Two hour drive, remember? His other voice reminded him. Probably was easier to stay in town, if he wanted to give you that box of junk.

“Do you think you can give me directions to it?” Charlie asked him.

Robert gave a slow nod.

“Alright. Let's go, then.”

---

Although the rest of the night proceeded calmly without any interruption, for Charlie, any semblance of calm eluded him.

They eventually made it to the cheap hotel Robert had stayed at the night before, and booked another night in the same room. If the hotel clerk noticed the lack of color in Robert or the bandage on his forehead and neck, not to mention the bandages that were still on Charlie's head, he made no mention of it.

Thankfully, Robert went through with what he had said earlier, and laid down in one of the two beds in the hotel room, easily and readily falling asleep.

For Charlie, however, he unfortunately couldn't afford himself that luxury.

After making a pot of coffee and mixing in a small amount of powdered creamer in his polystyrene cup, Charlie settled into the only chair in the room and turned on the TV, setting the volume and brightness as low as he could, and even turning subtitles on for the hell of it. Every so often, he would glance at the door, or glance at the window, and then check on his father to make sure that he was still doing okay. The adrenaline had faded, but the stress and worry remained, and Charlie fought against the exhaustion he now felt with terrible hotel coffee, an uncomfortable chair, and reruns of old sitcom episodes.

Morning came more slowly than he would have liked, and despite his fear of leaving his father alone, Charlie managed to muster up the courage to leave in order to find some breakfast for the two of them. He had eaten nothing since leaving his apartment in search of Arthur, and he returned to the hotel room with a plastic bag of two fast-food breakfast platters, each containing hot cakes, sausage patties, scrambled eggs, and hash-browns.

Charlie woke his father, and the two men ate their meals in silence. The rest might've helped Robert a little, but the color still hadn't returned to his face, and he still moved sluggishly. Afterwards, he helped Robert back into his truck, and the two of them drove off.

It had still been raining when Charlie had left to get them breakfast, and it was still raining by the time he and Robert had returned to Timeless Treasures. Only now, there was a car parked in front of the store.

Charlie pulled up and parked behind it. Not recognizing the vehicle in front of him, he turned his attention to the store.

“The door is open,” he said to Robert. “But the windows are still shuttered and I don't see any lights on.”

“Broken into?” Robert brought up.

“No, the door doesn't look busted,” Charlie said with a shake of his head. “It's gotta be Joanne - she owns this place and lives above it. I'll be right back.”

Charlie left his truck, and rushed inside to avoid the rain as best he could.

Inside, dry and sheltered from the rain, the jewelry store was quiet. The light from the storefront windows cast eerie shadows from the jewelry and their tree-like stands onto the walls of the room. Charlie couldn't see anyone inside; the staff-only door remained closed too, not propped open like the front door had been.

“Joanne?” Charlie called out.

Nothing.

He waited a second or two before calling out again, walking towards the staff-only door.

“Joanne?” He repeated. “It's me, Charlie! I've been trying to get a hold of you. My dad got attacked by a Munteanu vampire, and he needs help!”

He was about to reach for the handle of the staff-only door, when it turned on its own, and the door opened.

Standing there was not Joanne, but another individual. He wore a dark maroon raincoat, and held a large box in his hands. He had olive-toned beige skin, short black hair with a middle part, a bit of stubble, and wore wire-frame aviator glasses on his face. Behind those glasses were blue eyes, which were widening with shock and recognition, as Charlie's own brown eyes did the same.

“Theo?” Charlie exclaimed.

The surprise left the other man almost immediately.

“It's Theodore,” he bristled. “How many times do I have to tell you that?”

Theodore paused, and gave Charlie a quick once-over.

“You look like shit. And that's not just because of your head. Why are you back here?”

“Wait wait wait, hold on! Why are you here?!” Charlie responded. “I thought you went back to Charlottesville after Olympia's Middlefaire!”

“I was only going to graduate school in Charlottesville - I live in Roanoke,” Theodore said curtly. He walked past Charlie and set the box down on the countertop with the cash register. “Why are you back here?” He asked again.

“I'm looking for Joanne,” Charlie answered, suspicion rising within him. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Well, you told Joanne thanks-but-no-thanks last night, dumping Juno and a vampire neonate on her lap to deal with, and left to God knows where.” Theodore finally turned back around to face Charlie. “You didn't want to be part of this, but now you're back. Why?”

How the hell does he know all of that?

Charlie didn't respond right away, his brain working overtime to connect the dots between Theodore and Joanne.

“You're her assistant,” he realized.

“Technically I'm her administrative assistant. And errand boy, as it so happens.” Theodore gestured to the box on the counter. “She sent me back here to pick up a few things she forgot. But I guess that comes with the territory when you become an arcanist's apprentice.”

Theodore crossed his arms and leaned against the countertop, a bored expression on his face as he waited for Charlie to process this information.

“You-” Charlie pointed to the bandages on his head.

“Uh-huh,” Theodore confirmed with a nod.

“I need your help.” Charlie took a step towards Theodore. The sudden intensity coloring his voice caused the other man to stand up straight. “A Munteanu vampire broke into my apartment last night and attacked my dad. I tried to bandage him as best I could, but I think he lost a lot of blood. He refuses to go to the hospital. Please, I don't know what else to do, Theo.”

Theodore frowned. He glanced out the front doors of the store, at the two cars parked in front on the street.

“Is he in your truck?” He asked, looking back at Charlie.

Charlie nodded.

Theodore gave a long sigh, before turning around and lifting the box on the counter back into his arms.

“Alright. I'll lead you guys back to my place,” he told Charlie. “Everyone else is there too - Joanne and I figured it would be more secluded from House Munteanu and The Arktos in Oakway than in the heart of the city. I can take a look at your dad there. A blood transfusion is a little out of my skill set, but I have an older brother who's a nurse and owes me a big favor. He doesn't know anything about the supernatural or my magic though, and I'd appreciate it if you keep it that way.”

“Oakway?” Charlie repeated, following Theodore back towards the front.

“It's an Italian-American neighborhood in Roanoke,” Theodore explained succinctly, his impatience getting the better of him. “Just get in your truck and follow me, okay?”

[The Traveler]

Chapter 10

The rain gradually lessened and the monotonous gray clouds had evaporated by the time they entered Oakway. The tall skyscrapers that made up the cityscape slowly faded from Charlie's peripheries as he followed Theodore's car out of Roanoke proper, only just now noticing their absence as he took in the neighborhood before him.

Oakway had indeed turned out to be a fair distance away from Timeless Treasures, and by extension, from the heart of Roanoke itself. It primarily housed tall and narrow brick townhouses, along with a handful of businesses housed within similar structures, but they paled in comparison to the massive oak trees that lined each side of the streets they traversed. Their limbs stretched upward towards the now clear and blue sky; red, orange, and brown leaves still clung to the branches that swayed in the wind, catching the first rays of morning sun.

Charlie stared with mouth agape as he followed Theodore down one street and the next. It felt like he had left reality and stepped into the setting of some sort of urban fairy tale.

They soon arrived at a place that was unlike the rest of the architecture of the neighborhood, at the furthermost part of a dead-end drive: a humble stone cottage, with greenery exploding out of it and spilling into an extensive yard, even in the midst of autumn. Ivy climbed over its exterior and over trellises, and seasonal flowers of red, gold, white, fuchsia, blue-violet, and white adorned the place here and there, along with green shrubs planted in certain areas to create paths leading this way or that around the property, or placed in front of or next to downspouts to more readily receive water from the rain.

As for the cottage itself, it was neither too big, nor too small, but seemingly just right for the amount of people Charlie imagined were inside (plus him, his father, and Theodore, of course). It had a veranda made of the same white stone and dark shingled roof as the rest of the house, with outdoor seating underneath; a short, squat turret with a small balcony that Charlie doubted could support his weight; not one, but two chimneys, one on either side of the cottage; and what looked to be, if Charlie had to guess, something resembling a built-in greenhouse.

He and Theodore parked their cars, and after helping his father out of his truck, Charlie and Robert followed Theodore inside the cottage through the heavy wooden front door in the turret. They did not linger in the small stone entryway, instead literally cutting across the corner of a large, barren room to enter a long narrow hallway with a wooden staircase.

It was there that Juno, Joanne, and Arthur intercepted them, with Juno emerging from a nearby dining room, and Joanne and Arthur coming down the stairs from above. Charlie assumed they had heard them arrive or had seen them drive up to the cottage. A cacophony of voices entered his ears.

“Charlie?”

“What happened?”

“Who's that with you?”

“Let him speak.”

He gave Joanne a look of gratitude for being the voice of reason. Although, he wasn't certain he had the energy to retell everything up until this point.

“A vampire broke into my apartment - again - and attacked my dad, last night,” Charlie managed to sum up. “We tried to come by Timeless Treasures and your flat, but it was closed and no one was answering the door or the phone. So we came by next morning and ran into Theo, who brought us back here.”

Joanne looked at Theodore.

“It was a good thing I sent you back to the shop, then,” she murmured.

“It would seem so.” Theodore agreed, but he seemed distracted or impatient in his response. “Speaking of, I'm going to drop your things off in your room, and then go find my brother and ask him about a blood transfusion. We can set Charlie's dad up in my old room - the green one. I'm assuming you'll want to stay too, right?”

Charlie blinked at Theodore, and then nodded.

“Right. Well.” Theodore pressed his lips together in thought. “We don't have any other rooms, but-”

“I can give up the blue room,” Juno volunteered. “I don't mind sleeping on the couch.”

“Good. You'll stay in Matthew's- in the blue room,” Theodore corrected himself. “Come on, we'll get your dad situated, and I'll show you were it is.”

“Here, Charlie, I can carry your dad.” Juno slid Robert's arm off of his son's shoulders and onto hers. “You look like you're on death's door as it is.”

Were the situation not so fraught, Charlie would have snorted an amused laugh. Instead, he murmured a quick thank-you, and traveled with everyone else up the stairs onto the second floor. He watched as Theodore led Juno and Robert into a room with dark green walls and a queen bed, listened as Juno spoke gently to his father, getting him to set his box of mementos down on the nightstand and lie down on the mattress himself.

He was only half-aware of Theodore passing him by, beckoning him to follow, halting in his tracks when he didn't. Charlie knew he should follow, that it was in his best interest to do so, but worry clutched at his heart as he continued to stare at his father, lying motionless on the bed.

Not dead, he reminded himself. Not yet. You’ll know first out of anyone else when that time comes. If Dad doesn’t sense it first, at least.

He felt a hand touch his elbow. A sudden calm settled over him, and his thoughts melted away. The lack of worry occupying his mind meant that there was room for his body to tell him exactly how it felt: exhausted. Weakened. With apathy and indifference to everything else other than rest rapidly filling the void.

He finally acknowledged what he had been ignoring this entire time: he had been running on fumes since discovering his dad on his bedroom floor in his apartment. He needed rest.

He looked down at Joanne. She met his gaze with cool brown eyes.

“Come along, Charlie,” she told him. “Juno will look after your father. Everything will be alright."

He glanced back into the green room, at his dad, at Juno. Their eyes met. He gave her a nod, which she returned in solidarity.

Then, Charlie turned away and followed Theodore and Joanne to another room, this one with blue walls and a twin bed, Arthur still slinking along silently with them.

“We'll talk more when you've recovered fully, Charlie,” Joanne said to him. “In the meantime, just focus on that. You and your father are safe here.”

She took the box from Theodore's hands, cutting off the other man's protests with the fact that she was quite capable of carrying a box (”I'm old, Theodore, not frail”), and disappeared behind a door at the end of the hall.

Theodore gave Charlie a silent glance, before turning and heading down the stairs, presumably to go looking for his nurse of a brother.

Which left Arthur, lingering in the hallway with Charlie.

The vampire neonate looked like he wanted to say something, but was struggling with the words. He drifted slightly towards a different room across from Charlie's; all he got were glimpses of red walls through the open doorway.

Seems like this place is well-themed, he thought, before Arthur finally spoke.

“I'm glad you're okay,” he rasped. “And I'm glad you're here, too. Your... I hope your dad will be alright.”

Charlie let out a long breath, his shoulders slumping.

“Yeah. Me too.” He paused, and then added, “Thank you, Arthur.”

Arthur just gave a silent nod, and then disappeared into his room, the door sliding shut with a click.

Grasping the doorknob, Charlie closed the door to his room as well, before collapsing onto the bed and letting sleep overtake him.

[The Traveler]

Chapter 11, pt. 1

Charlie did not know how long he slept, just that it was dark out by the time he had woken up.

He emerged from his room into the dimly lit hallway. He noticed light coming out from underneath Joanne's room, and also from another unfamiliar door.

He paused for a second and counted the number of doors on the upper level: his, the bathroom, Joanne's, Arthur's, the room his dad was in, and the unfamiliar door.

Must be Theo, Charlie concluded, lowering his hand. His gaze drifted back to the green room, its door wide open. He headed down the hallway towards it and stopped at the threshold, peering inside.

Not much had changed: Robert still laid on the bed, asleep, while Juno still sat in a chair nearby, but there were slight differences. The sheet and blanket on the bed had been pulled up over Robert, and Juno sat at a desk, playing out a game of solitaire - but what stood out the most to Charlie was the addition of an IV pole next to the bed, holding a plastic bag of dark red blood, a small thin tube extending from the bottom and curling its way over into the inside of Robert's elbow.

Charlie let himself slump with relief against the doorway. A weight he had been unaware of lifted itself off of his chest, and he made a mental note to thank Theodore the next time he saw him.

Juno looked up from her game to check on Robert, and noticed Charlie standing in the doorway.

“Hey, good morning,” she said with a smile. “Or, well- “

She glanced at the window behind her.

“-Good night, I guess, but that seems weird to say as a greeting. You look much better.”

“I feel better.” Charlie stepped into the room, going over to Robert's bedside. “Not 100 percent yet, but, better. How's he been?”

“A little in and out of it, but he's also doing better with rest - and, well, the blood, obviously.” Juno gestured to the blood bag. “Theodore and his brother think he lost a liter or two of blood, and he'll be more like himself once it's all back in there.”

Charlie felt a shiver run down his spine. “That's a lot of blood,” he murmured.

He looked down at his father, noting the gray in his hair and mustache, the wrinkles on his face and neck. Things that had gradually appeared over a very long period of time and that he knew were there, but never really paid much attention too. Charlie was under no illusion of his father’s age, had even called Robert a stubborn old man once or twice, but taking in those details with a critical eye, seeing him asleep in bed, an IV sticking out of his arm, recalling how weak and foggy he had been-

When had his dad gotten so old?

“Hey.”

Juno's voice cut into his thoughts, and he looked over at her.

She stood up, and grabbed a beanbag chair in the corner, sliding it in front of her next to the desk, before patting the seat.

“Come over here. Play a game of war with me and let's catch up.”

Charlie spared one last glance at Robert. Then, he walked over to join Juno by the desk, and sat - well, more like sank - into the chair she had pulled out for him. She shuffled the deck of cards a few times, before beginning to deal them out to Charlie and herself.

“You seem... calmer, than you were at Nobody's,” Charlie began.

“I mean, I'm still not thrilled about this war, if that's what you were wondering,” Juno answered. “But at least I'm not alone in trying to figure it out. Joanne seems sincere, even if she has less of a vested interest, and I trust Theodore after Olympia's Middlefaire, so...”

She gave a shrug.

“What about Arthur?” Charlie asked next.

“He's annoying with his constant apologizing for attacking me, but harmless for now. I think turning into a vampire broke his brain a little.” Juno dealt out the last card, and then straightened out her deck, waiting for Charlie to do the same.

“I could have sworn you were the same way,” Charlie pointed out. He reached for his deck and tapped it a few times against the desk, evening it out. “Confused, scared, what-have-you.”

“Sure, but I still had my shit together. I was still at least somewhat competent in my confusion. The only thing I was scared of was hurting other people when I transformed.”

Juno flipped a card over from her deck, setting it on the desk. Charlie did the same, and seeing he had the higher card, claimed the two of them into his discard pile. They continued like this as they talked.

“Yeah. I noticed that you were able to transform during the day,” Charlie commented. “Same with the other lycanthropes. The Arktos. I take it you were successful in finding a pack to join, after Olympia’s?”

“Skulk,” Juno corrected.

“...Pardon?” Charlie raised a confused eyebrow.

“They're not called a pack. They're called a skulk,” Juno explained. “People cursed with lycanthropy don’t always become werewolves, although they are the most numerous. The Arktos is practically a zoo of were-animals, so they came up with skulk.”

“Oh - okay.” Charlie didn't see the need to argue about it. “I'm hoping you're going to give me more than that.”

Juno gave a faint smile as she moved hers and Charlie's cards into her discard pile. “I mean, yeah, clearly I was successful in trying to find a werewolf pack or group to join, to try and find someone who could help me with my lycanthropy. My search led me to The Arktos. As far as lycanthrope groups go, they're better than the few I had seen along my way to Roanoke, which were little more than disorganized, ragtag street gangs. The Arktos doesn’t resist or embrace lycanthropy, but try to live in harmony with it.”

After she and Charlie ran out of cards to play, they each picked up their discard piles, evening them both out, and then drawing from the top to continue the game of war.

“It’s part support group too, in that respect,” Juno continued. “Which yeah, it’s kinda weird, but hey, I was sick of gangs and it appealed to me, so I decided to join them. And…”

She trailed off, but only for a moment. A grin crossed her face and she shook her head, as if she couldn’t believe what she was about to say. The disbelief changed to wonder as she gave a shrug. “Their methods work. I can control when I transform, even during the full moon. I don’t have to worry about scaring or hurting anyone, or even about passing on the curse. It’s… It’s amazing. There are some days where I don’t even believe it myself.”

“That's great, Juno!” For the first time in what felt like a while, a genuine smile crossed Charlie's face. “Seriously. I'm very happy for you.”

“Thank you, Charlie.”

The two of them placed down two cards of the same value, and what followed came a flurry of cards being placed face-down in a column, before Charlie and Juno flipped over a second set of face-up cards. Juno cursed when she saw that Charlie had the higher value card, and cursed again when she realized she had lost a couple of higher value cards herself from her face-down column.

“You're cheating,” she accused.

“With my head injury? You give me a lot more credit than I deserve,” Charlie retorted with a laugh.

“So what have you been up to since Olympia's?” Juno asked as they resumed normal play.

Charlie let out a long sigh. “Got my master's,” he answered succinctly. “Decided to move to Roanoke when there didn't seem to be any related opportunities in Richmond. Both for my degree and, uh, magic. Necromancy. I interviewed for a job with Joanne at her shop, so that's how I met her, but I had no idea that Theo lived here too and was her apprentice. Did you know? Is this really his house?”

"Yes, it’s really my house,” came a voice from the door.

Juno and Charlie turned to look at Theodore as he walked into the room. He went over to the blood bag hanging from the IV pole, examining its contents.

“My great-aunt left it to me after she died,” Theodore continued. “How's he been?”

“Good. He's still asleep, but his breathing's gotten stronger,” Juno reported.

Theodore gave a nod, and exchanged the old bag for a new one. “I can take over for you if you’d like, by the way,” he continued, speaking to Juno. “You’ve been in here all day and I can’t seem to sleep regardless.”

“Sure,” Juno said with a shrug. She glanced down at the game and gathered the cards up into one deck, tapping them against the desk before setting them aside. “I was losing this game anyway. You staying here with Theodore?”

Charlie shook his head and pulled himself to his feet. “Nope, I’m good. Have a good night, Theo.”

“It’s Theodore,” he heard as he and Juno left the room.

Once they were a fair distance away, Juno spoke.

“I'm surprised he's talking to you.”

“What makes you say that?” Charlie asked as they stopped next to the blue room.

“Well, you know, after summoning a bunch of animal zombies from the forest in front of his girlfriend and scaring the absolute shit out of her-”

“Look, you were werewolf-ed out, what was I supposed to do? Let you go on a rampage throughout the fair? Theo didn't have to stick around to help with his plant magic either, but he did. He has no one to blame but himself when Cindy or Mindy or Bindi-”

“Lindsey,” Juno provided.

“-Lindsey, came looking for him, saw what was happening, and couldn't deal with magic or the supernatural,” Charlie finished. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Whoever I end up with next, I'm going to tell her about my necromancy right away. First date and everything.”

“Right away?” Juno repeated, crossing her arms and raising a doubtful eyebrow.

“Right away,” Charlie confirmed. Then he frowned as he thought it over. “Well - no. Not right away. But if things go well and start to get more serious, then I would tell her. I think that would be the most fair. I definitely wouldn't keep it a secret like Theo did.”

“How do you know he wasn't planning on telling her?” Juno pointed out.

Charlie sighed. “Alright, if you're so smart, how would you go about telling someone you have a serious relationship with that you're a werewolf?”

“Simple - he already knows, 'cause I'm only gonna date another lycanthrope,” Juno answered. “Avoid the secret-keeping and confessionals altogether.”

“From The Arktos?” Charlie guessed.

Her light-hearted tone disappeared. “Yeah,” Juno muttered. “That's the hope. If they still let me be part of the skulk after all of this. And if I still even want it.”

Charlie paused.

“Sorry. I didn't mean to bring the mood down,” he murmured, but Juno waved it off.

“It’s okay. Either The Arktos will come to their senses and listen to me and take me back, or they won’t. And then I’ll know for sure if they’re worth my time.”

She gave a half-hearted smile.

“Anyways, I’ll see you in the morning, Charlie.”

She turned away and walked back towards the stairs. Charlie watched as she descended down the steps, until the top of her head disappeared from view. Then, he turned and went back into the blue room himself.

[The Traveler]

Chapter 11, pt. 2

Morning couldn't come fast enough for Charlie.

He had tried to go back to sleep after his conversation with Juno, but he had tossed and turned a great deal. Sleeping the whole day away had left him feeling wide awake, lying in his bed sometime after midnight, staring up at the ceiling of an unfamiliar room. It didn't help that his mind couldn't quiet down either. Sure, his dad was alright, would be alright, but now since that worry had been taken care of, more came to the forefront. Who was that vampire that had stolen his book, and why? Did Juno still feel a kinship towards The Arktos, despite their brutal attack on them? When will Arthur need to feed again? What exactly is Joanne planning to do? How does Theodore fit in with all of this beyond providing a safe haven?

Mercifully, however, when it seemed his mind had run out of worries to torment him with, Charlie managed to doze off for the rest of the night until the golden rays of morning sunshine peeked through the curtains of his room.

He emerged from his room shortly after, paying a brief visit to his dad's room to check up on him. No one was with him, but Robert now lacked any sort of blood bag attached to him, and from what Charlie could tell just by looking at him and watching him breathe, he had improved dramatically since he had last seen his father. Satisfied, Charlie then went downstairs in search of food.

He turned into the dining room, his gaze sweeping over the dark wooden dining table and red-cushioned chairs, until he found an open door that led into a spacious and well-lit kitchen, with cream-colored cabinetry and blue-tiled countertops. Small pots of fresh herbs lined the windowsill above the sink, while bundles of drying herbs dangled upside down on the only wall free of cabinetry. It also boasted a kitchen island and a separate breakfast bar, offering ample surface for whatever culinary creations occurred within this space.

Speaking of culinary creations, it looked like food had already been set out on the breakfast bar.

Charlie made a beeline for it and took in the simple continental breakfast before him: freshly sliced bread with butter and all manner of jams, biscuits and shortbread flavored with chocolate or honey, and a basket of still-warm croissants with a dollop of either jam, custard, or chocolate placed on top.

Charlie picked one of the chocolate ones up, and felt something inside the pastry shift.

“Are these some sort of filled croissants?” He wondered out loud, staring down at the pastry in confusion. “This doesn't look like a pain au chocolat.”

“That's because it's not,” he heard Theodore speak behind him. In his haste to find some food, Charlie hadn't noticed that he had been in the kitchen as well.

He turned around to face Theodore, only to find him pouring coffee out of a pot and into a mug, his back facing Charlie. He hadn't changed out of his pajamas, which were green-hued, and wore a similarly colored robe over top of them.

“They're cornetti. Italian croissants,” Theodore continued. He turned around as well, holding his steaming mug in hand.

“Did you make these?” Charlie asked.

“No.” Theodore gave a faint smile. “No, I'm afraid my talents lie in cooking, not baking. I'm not half the baker my father is. He had my mother drop them off.”

“Huh.”

Charlie looked down at the croissant - no, cornetti - and took a bite. It was good, but admittedly, it was hard to go wrong with pastry dough, butter, and chocolate in his opinion.

“So your great-aunt left you this house in an Italian-American neighborhood, your brother is a nurse who will give blood transfusions to random strangers for you, your father is a baker who gives you baked goods by way of your mother...” Charlie listed off.

“Yes.” Theodore took a sip of his coffee, the steam momentarily fogging up his glasses. “And?”

“Nothing, it's just... I mean, my head is going to 'Italian mafia ring' but I don't know a lot about the mafia to say so and I don't think they're involved with drug trafficking, but...”

Charlie reached over and picked up another cornetti, peering intently in the basket where it had been.

“I'm going to try and not be insulted by your insinuation that my family and I are tied to the American Mafia, and that there's drugs underneath those pastries,” Theodore muttered.

“What gives then?” Charlie put the cornetti back down and looked back at Theodore.

“With what, the pastries?”

“With all of it. The house, the blood transfusion - I don't get it. Why?”

“...We're family.” Theodore answered like it was a statement of fact, a little confused by Charlie's question. “Family does things for one another.”

“No they don't,” Charlie said with a dry laugh.

“Sure, like you didn't just stay up all night in a hotel room looking after your dad, right?”

“That's different. That's life or death. Aside from that, all family does is either ignore you or try to assert control over your life.”

Theodore didn't respond right away. He stared at Charlie intently as the other man ate his cornetti.

“Well. Perhaps we have two very different families then,” Theodore finally muttered. He set his mug down on the kitchen island. “How's your head, by the way?”

Grateful for the divergence in conversation, Charlie answered with, “Pain's still there, but it's duller. If you have something to make it go away, I’ll gladly take it.”

“Sure. Give me a moment.”

Theodore turned and headed out of the kitchen.

While he waited, Charlie went over to the coffee machine, and after opening a few unfamiliar cabinets, found one with mugs inside and poured himself a cup. It was just as he was adding a splash of milk to his coffee that Theodore returned, clutching a few pieces of herbs in his hand. Charlie wisely got out of his way and sat down at the breakfast bar, helping himself to another cornetti, this one filled with raspberry jam.

...Alright. He admitted it: these were good.

“Here, try this.”

Charlie looked up to find a second mug being shoved in his face. He swallowed the rest of his cornetti and took it, peering inside. Its contents were a mystery, but he wasn't certain he liked the color nor the smell of the steaming liquid.

“What is it?” He asked.

“Something to help with the pain,” Theodore answered, like it was obvious.

“Okay, but what’s in it?”

Theodore sighed. “White willow bark, feverfew, echinacea, and valerian,” he rattled off. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, do I have to drink this?”

“You don’t have to do anything, but you were the one who asked me for something for your pain.”

“Sure, but I was thinking more like, oh I don’t know, aspirin?”

“Just plug your nose and drink the damn tea.”

Charlie frowned again, and looked back down at the mug. Then, clamping his nostrils shut, he threw back the tea into his mouth and down his throat. All he tasted was heat and a bitter botanical flavor, and his face contorted with displeasure. He shoved the mug back towards Theodore.

“See, that wasn’t so bad,” Theodore said, the faintest hint of a smug smile gracing his face.

“You have poor judgment on what ‘bad’ is,” Charlie coughed.

“Be quiet, Juno is sleeping in the other room behind us. Just give it a few seconds.”

Charlie did. The taste hadn't improved and still lingered in his mouth, but the dull faintly throbbing pain in his head slowly began to melt away.

As if by magic.

Charlie blinked at Theodore in surprise.

“Well?” Theodore prompted.

“Uh... yeah. Pain's gone,” Charlie responded, dumb-founded. “Thank you.”

Theodore gave a curt nod, and took the mug over to the kitchen sink, twisting the faucet on to rinse it out.

“And, uh... thank you for your help. With my father,” Charlie continued. He grasped his own mug of coffee again and took a large drink to wash away the remainder of the medicinal flavor coating his tongue. “I don't know what I would have done otherwise.”

The faucet turned off, and Theodore turned to face Charlie again, drying the mug off with a dish towel and leaning against the sink.

“It's nothing. Your father was injured and I could help, so I did,” he answered succinctly. “It's what I would hope any decent person would do for me, if I was in the same situation.”

“Well, still. I appreciate it. You didn't have to, especially after... well, after Olympia's.”

Theodore's hands stilled. His head turned away from Charlie, almost glancing out the window behind him.

Charlie shifted in his seat, aware that he was treading into dangerous water by bringing it up, but pressing on.

“Anyways, I think you've gotten better with your plant magic since then, if your tea is anything to go by-”

“Ah, Charlie, good morning!”

The two men turned their heads to find Joanne striding into the kitchen. She wore the same dark brown ensemble that Charlie had seen her wearing the day she had rescued him, Arthur, and Juno at Nobody's, and her hair was back up in a braided ponytail. The only change in her appearance was the ornate green capelet that draped over her shoulders, which sported a wide, high collar, and gold filigree adorning the edges, the front loosely laced with simple gold-colored cording.

“Morning, Joanne,” Charlie greeted with a smile, secretly grateful for the interruption.

“Have you finished with breakfast yet?” Joanne inquired.

“Uh... yeah, I think so. Just have coffee right now.”

“Good.” She clapped her hands together. “You can bring it with you. Please follow me and we can get started.”

“Get started with what?” Charlie asked.

“Your training. Or rather, a crash-course on the specifics that I anticipate you'll need with this vampire-lycanthrope war raging on. Unless you'd rather get your head smashed repeatedly again?”

She's not pulling any punches, is she? Charlie wondered what had happened to the kindly store owner he had met for his interview, and if that had been nothing more than a mask for the public eye. Then he cleared his throat, and quickly slid out of his seat at the breakfast bar.

“No ma'am,” he responded, taking long but quick strides over to her. “Lead the way.”

Joanne turned around to lead him out of the kitchen. As they left, Charlie could have sworn he heard Theodore mutter something low underneath his breath.

“...know I'm angry...don't need...it's fine...!”

He glanced back at the other man quickly, but Theodore still stared out the window above the sink, which showed nothing other than the forest outside.

Just who exactly was he talking to?

[The Traveler]

Chapter 12

Joanne led Charlie out of the kitchen and through the dining room into the large barren room that he, Theodore, and his father had breezed past the day before when they had first entered the cottage. Without the worry of his father or the threat of exhaustion looming over him, he took in the space before him in more detail.

It was indeed large in both height and width, and the lack of ceiling only added to the spaciousness of the room; Charlie found himself tilting his head up to take in the pitched wooden roof and exposed timbers, well above him and Joanne. The walls were covered in cream-colored stucco, and the floors were the same floorboards as everywhere else. Windows lined one side of the room, allowing morning light to flood in, while the opposite wall held only a single sliding glass door for ease of access to the back of the cottage. On their end of the room were two doorways, one leading into the stairwell hallway, and the other leading into the dining room, which they had emerged from. On the opposite side of the room from where they entered was a cozy nook of a fireplace with built-in, cushioned bench seating - Charlie imagined that it must be a very warm place to sit and read a book in the winter.

“What is this room for?” He found himself asking.

“I asked Theodore that myself.” Joanne strode to the middle of the room and stopped there, turning back to face Charlie. “He told me that Giovanna - that's his great-aunt - had used it for all sorts of things. Parties, lessons in gardening, a play space for her great-nephews when they were younger. Right now, it's being used as an attic or storage space, but there's clearly enough room to suit our needs.”

Charlie silently agreed. While he still thought the room to be empty, it wasn't really empty in the truest sense of the word. Two butter-yellow armchairs with a silver-gold filigree pattern sat in front of the fireplace nook, facing inward on the room, and a red-cushioned loveseat made out of ornately carved wood was positioned against one of the walls. A couple of console tables lined the walls too, one holding a few potted plants, and the other holding a stack of books, with the topmost book splayed open, a red ribbon bookmark standing out amongst the white pages.

Charlie found himself drawn to the stack of books, and walked over to them, tilting his head as he read their spines. Each of them bore the letters KUP, but their titles were very different from one another: Fundamentals of Enchantment and Artifice, Warding and Dispelling: Beginner's Edition, and On Magical Theory, Volume 1.

He focused on the open book at the top of the stack next. The top of the left page clued him in on the title of the book - The Unabridged Encyclopedia of Arcane Techniques - and the page's contents seemed to support that. His eyes widened as he saw what was written on the right page.

“Are these your books?” Charlie lifted his head to look at Joanne.

“Yes, they are,” Joanne responded. She seemed both patient and unbothered that Charlie had taken an interest in the books.

He pointed to the encyclopedia article on the right page.

“Why are you reading about necromancy?” He asked. “You're not a necromancer.”

“No, but you are,” Joanne answered with an amused smile. “I'd be a poor teacher if I didn't understand your ability. Unfortunately, there's scant objective information about necromancy in my personal library, and I imagine it's much the same outside of my library too.”

“I managed to find an old book at my university, dating to about the 14th century. It was remarkably well-preserved, and talked about necromancy, magic, and demons, I'm not sure about the demon or magic sections, but the necromancy section is solid,” Charlie offered up. Then he frowned and corrected himself. “Was solid. The vampire that attacked my father and I stole it. I have no idea why.”

Joanne thought for a moment. “Perhaps he sought to weaken you and your father, believing the source of your abilities to be that book,” she mused aloud.

“Well, he would be right.” Charlie took a drink of his coffee, and then set it down on the table holding the stack of books. “I can't do much with my curse without writing those symbols and glyphs.”

“No.”

The emphasis in her response caused Charlie to stand up straight and look at her intently.

“First, your necromancy is not a curse. Nor is it a gift. It is a unique supernatural ability, a power, that few people possess, much like my own power, or Theodore's, or anyone else's. And damning it or exalting it are both misrepresentations - it just simply is,” Joanne told him. “Second, you only think you need symbols and glyphs to use your power. While they can help, they are not necessary for those who innately possess it.”

“How do you mean?” Charlie asked.

“Indulge me as I work my way towards an answer.”

Joanne began to pace back and forth in the room, though she still kept relatively close to the center, as she continued to talk. “What do you think magic is, Charlie?”

"It's, ah... it's an ancient practice rooted in rituals, divinations with spirits or demons, and cultural lineages.” Charlie's field of study informed his response, though his own burgeoning real-world experience with magic caused him to hesitate. “Much like religious practices, there are many historical and modern magic practices, some popular, some not as much, and some that are unique to the individual.”

“True,” Joanne agreed, nodding as she continued to pace. “But what is magic itself?”

Charlie hesitated again, but not for the same reason: he instead took the time to consider Joanne's question and his answer.

“I would say that it's a supernatural force that can be invoked, manipulated, or otherwise manifested in reality to influence the world around you,” he tried again. “And... there are many different ways in which it can be invoked, manipulated, or manifested. Right? Am I close?”

Joanne nodded again, this time in approval.

“There are a lot of theories about magic, but no certainties,” she informed Charlie. “And a lot of them have to do with explaining how we interact with magic. How can someone who doesn't have a power at all still perform magic, to a limited degree? How can someone with the power of necromancy not need those same necromantic symbols and glyphs that others do if they want to practice necromancy? And how can someone like me, someone whose power lies in manipulating bio-electricity, still make this. a warding circle, something that lies in a different magical practice altogether?”

Joanne ceased pacing and walked over to a window, gently placing her hand on the glass. Charlie watched as an intricate, arcane circle appeared on the window, glowing gold beneath Joanne's hand.

“There are two prominent theories that attempt to explain this: the theory of arcana, and the theory of mana. In summary, the theory of arcana states that magic is an external, separate energy source that permeates throughout the entire world and can be accessed by anyone with varying degrees of success, depending on the user, their knowledge, and the amount of arcana available to be used. Under the theory of arcana, I am using the magical energy around me to create this warding circle, and you would have been doing the same when enchanting that ring from your portfolio. Arcana's explanation on the existence of powers is weak, however.”

Joanne continued to stare out of the window, pausing as she watched a red cardinal alight on one of the pines outside.

“The newer burgeoning theory of mana, on the other hand, argues that magic is an intrinsic property present within everything that exists - you, me, the birds in the trees, the trees themselves, the stones leading up to this cottage, the cottage itself, the rain, the sun - everything contains mana to a greater or lesser degree, and it is entirely unique to the individual person, place, or thing. Under the theory of mana, I am using my own magical energy within myself to create this warding circle, and interacting with the mana of the cottage to support and reinforce my intentions. It runs counter to the nature of my personal mana - the power of manipulating bio-electricity - so it requires a great deal more time, concentration, and effort to achieve something of similar magnitude, but I am still able to do it and get the result I want.”

Joanne removed her hand from the window, the warding circle fading until it disappeared entirely. She turned around to face Charlie again, who stood transfixed by the explanation and demonstration.

“With your ring, you enchanted it with your own magical energy - my guess, based off of the stones you used and your description of the ring, for the purposes of achieving emotional balance. Rainbow obsidian is known for grounding, and clear quartz enhances that property, along with providing additional emotional stability. Everything else was decoration, but it reinforced your intentions of balance and harmony.”

She paused then, and her brow furrowed with concern. When she spoke next, there was a tender sort of care to her words, as if the no-nonsense lecturer from before had disappeared.

“Charlie... did you make that ring for someone else, or for yourself?”

Her question snapped Charlie back to reality, and he blinked.

“Uh - myself,” he admitted. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away. There was no sense in hiding the truth now. “I wouldn't say I'm moody, but I didn't like how I shut down whenever I was stressed, or whenever I was in stressful or emotionally charged situations.”

He paused, thinking of Olympia's Middlefaire, and seeing a monstrous half-man, half-wolf beast for the first time in his life in the petting zoo, feasting on a goat it had recently slaughtered.

“The ring has since helped me realize how to stay calm during those situations,” Charlie finished. “I'm not wearing it because I don't need it anymore.”

“I see.” Joanne gave a nod. “I'm glad to hear that.”

“So when you say that mana is unique to the individual, how does that explain my dad and I having the same power?” Charlie asked, switching back to the topic at hand.

“That's actually one of the flaws with the theory of mana: it still needs to explain the existence of powers that are passed down through family lineages.” Joanne shrugged. “The unfortunate thing about magical theory is that there are still a lot of incomplete answers, and it is difficult to make those answers whole. But my purpose in telling you about all of this is so that you at least have some sort of grasp on the nature of magic. You don't need to remember the specifics of arcana versus mana, but I hope it illustrates to you that your necromancy power is simply that - not a curse, not a gift, but an innate skill that you can utilize to create magic.

“So, to circle back to your necromancy book - it's redundant for you. You can use your power of necromancy on your own, with proper instruction and practice or perhaps after many years of trying to figure it out for yourself. However, for someone who doesn't have a necromancy power like you do, such as myself or a normal human, we would need to use that book, the symbols and glyphs within it, and many hours of study to be able to do a fraction of what you can do. Make sense?”

“Yeah, I think so.” Charlie nodded slowly. “I can do magic, but my specialty lies in necromancy, since that's my power. How do you know all of this? Where did you find these?”

He turned and pointed back at the stack of books.

Joanne gave another smile, this time bittersweet, as she looked back on her books.

“Perhaps I'll tell you another time. When our current situation isn't so fraught by warring vampires and lycanthropes.”

Charlie lowered his arm back to his side, tucking his hand inside a pocket. “Alright,” he said. “Was that all you wanted to teach me?”

“No.” Joanne shook her head, and the no-nonsense instructor returned. “Magical theory is only just the beginning of your crash-course, Charlie.”

---

As it turned out, Joanne's stack of books were something of a preview of the so-called crash-course she ran Charlie through. And boy did she run him through it.

First she had him demonstrate to her all that he could do with his necromancy, without using the symbols and glyphs from Piscinarius's book. They had propped the door open, and a few dead forest animals had traipsed in, beckoned and controlled by Charlie's command and intent. Charlie had thought that that had been enough, but when Joanne started flinging bolts of golden energy at him, he suddenly realized that bringing those corpses and skeletons inside had only been the start of his demonstration, and that Joanne expected him to defend himself.

He had done so, to the best of his ability, using a skeletal rabbit to hop up and intercept bolts of energy with its body, trying to get the zombie fox to barrel into Joanne and knock her off her feet, or having the zombie raccoon scratch and claw at her calves, but Joanne was clearly well-experienced with combat, and obliterated each of the three animals without mercy, forcing Charlie to reanimate them quickly to keep up his defense. The minimal electrical lighting in the room flickered on and off all the while, and Charlie could see his breath as he flung himself to the ground to dodge the next energy bolt headed in his direction.

The “demonstration” hadn't lasted long after that; Charlie was positive he hadn't lasted even three minutes against the old woman. He hid his disappointment as Joanne approached, seconds after nailing him solidly in the chest with one of her energy bolts, but she seemed to guess what he had been thinking.

“Don't be discouraged, Charlie. I've had years of experience, and you won't be facing anyone of similar caliber any time soon. You did well, but you also have areas where you can improve too,” Joanne had assured him.

She then gave him more detailed instruction on how he could use his necromancy if he found himself in a fight, walking him through a few common scenarios he could find himself facing with vampires or lycanthropes. Much like she had said at the beginning, she was no necromancer, but what she had taught him showed that she had done her best to study up on it - and one didn't need to be a necromancer to know how to make the most out of one's situation.

Still, between her practical instruction and the knowledge he had gained by reading Piscinarius's book, Charlie began to make connections on his own and see for himself all of the new possibilities for his necromancy.

“One thing before we move on,” Joanne had added. “Although our powers can be formidable, over-reliance on them can be a detriment when it comes to life or death. Think about how you can use your environment to your advantage. And find yourself a weapon or two as well.”

“Like what, a gun?” Charlie had asked.

“If you have one, but it doesn't have to be.” Joanne had pulled out the sides of her capelet, revealing two rows of throwing knives inside, one row on either side. “I tend to prefer these. Something more close quarters might suit you better.”

Joanne had then moved on to teach him about warding magic, which mercifully didn't require anything from Charlie other than to listen and pay attention to what the older woman was saying or demonstrating. He had sat down in one of the old armchairs, the itchy smell of dust entering his nose, while she spoke for about an hour or so. He had spotted the others in the two doorways from time to time - Juno walking up from the dining room with a cornetti in hand, Arthur descending down the staircase with his hood pulled low over his head and hands shoved into pockets, and Theodore breezing past both doorways to go into what Charlie guessed was the greenhouse.

He and Joanne then took a break to eat a brief lunch - Theodore had set out makings for salads or sandwiches - before returning to the training room (as Charlie had taken to silently calling it) to conclude his crash-course with another lecture on enchantment and artifice.

Lecture. He had been calling them lectures because that's what they were, but not once during the entirety of this crash-course had Charlie ever felt bored. On the contrary, it seemed important to Joanne that he had remained engaged, and she had indulged his questions while still redirecting them back to her points. And as for Charlie...

He was eating this stuff up. Hungrily. If he had had pen and paper, he would have been scribbling away. Instead, he did his best to commit everything Joanne was teaching him to memory. He even nearly forgot about the war between House Munteanu and The Arktos, until Joanne gave him his assignment.

“Before I start involving you fully with our planning, Charlie, there are two things I want you to do first.”

Her words snapped Charlie back to the present.

“One-” Joanne held up an index finger “ - I want you to find a weapon. Like I said earlier, it doesn't have to be a gun, but I want you to have something you can use other than your power or your body to defend yourself with. You can use a lead pipe or a candlestick for all I care, but you need something.”

“Find a weapon.” Charlie gave a nod. “Okay. Got it.”

“Two- “ Joanne raised another finger to join the first “ - I want you to enchant an object that you can carry with you with warding magic. Yes, you've improved with your power and combat since we've first started, but not nearly to where I would like you to be. Having something on hand to shield you from incoming blows you can't see or dodge will give you an edge and increase your survivability.”

“...Okay. Got it,” Charlie repeated, this time with less enthusiasm and more gravity for the assignment before him. “Is there... is there anything else?”

“You have until sunset to finish these tasks. I don't think I need to tell you what will happen if you don't finish, correct?”

Charlie shook his head. "No ma'am. I imagine I'll just continue to be excluded.”

“A little harsh, but yes.” Joanne held her hands behind her back. “I need to know that you'll be able to take care of yourself out there, Charlie. So does Theodore. So does Juno. We can't look after you and protect you along with Arthur and your father while he's healing, so you need to be able to protect yourself. Do these two things, and I'll be assured that you are capable of doing so. Do you understand what I am saying?”

Charlie gave a wordless nod.

“Good. Until sunset, then.”

Without another word, Joanne spun on her heels and walked away, leaving Charlie alone in the sweeping solitude of the training room.

[The Traveler]

Chapter 13, pt. 1

“So... Joanne wants you to find a weapon in this place.”

Juno stated the words more than asking them.

“Uh-huh,” Charlie confirmed, head deep in a storage chest.

The moment Joanne had left Charlie alone, he had gotten to his feet and went over to the stack of books she had left behind. Tempted as he was to read the encyclopedia article about necromancy, he ignored that one for now, and focused on the two most pertinent books to the task at hand: the one on enchanting, and the one on warding. Pressed for time, he had made good use of the table of contents and the indexes, finding what he was looking for and reading the relevant passages, before starting his search for both a weapon and a hand-held item.

Juno had joined him while he had poked around the large training room, curious as to what he and Joanne had been doing. Now, rummaging around in the last storage chest, Charlie frowned when he realized that all that was in there was a bunch of blankets and quilts.

“I mean, I'm not saying it's impossible, but this place used to be an old lady's home,” Juno continued. “I think you'll be hard-pressed to find anything. Wait, actually - what about a kitchen knife?”

Charlie grimaced as he pulled his head out of the chest and shut the lid closed. “Not a bad idea, but I also don't want to cut myself,” he said. “Those knives were in a knife block, so I would have to carry one of them with the blade exposed. What about a shovel from the greenhouse?”

“Too large, and it'd stand out,” Juno shot down with a shake of her head. “Plus I don't think Theodore would appreciate you stealing from him.”

“Well, I'm assuming he's alright with it, considering Joanne told me to just 'find a weapon'.” Charlie pulled himself to his feet. “But you have a point: a shovel is probably pretty unwieldy, and not exactly subtle. If we had more time, I'd just ask you to teach me how to kickbox.”

Juno let out a laugh. “Yeah, we don't have enough time for that.”

“What about a baseball bat?”

Arthur's sudden and raspy voice caused Charlie to jump, and Juno slipped into a fighting stance at the unexpected noise, fists up.

Arthur raised his hands quickly, palms facing outward. He still had his hood pulled over his head, and remained in the doorway. “Sorry! Sorry. I- I didn't mean to surprise you.”

Juno scowled. She straightened and dropped her hands back to her sides, but the tension didn't leave her. “You need a bell around your neck,” she called across the room to the vampire. “Were you eavesdropping?”

Arthur swallowed and lowered his hands too. “Not intentionally,” he answered. He turned his gaze to Charlie. “There's a baseball bat in the room I'm staying in,” he continued. “Would that work?”

Charlie let out a breath. “Maybe. I think carrying around a baseball bat could still draw attention, but at least I could hide it in my jacket, kind of. It's better than anything I've thought of so far, so...”

Charlie trailed off, but his meaning was clear. He gestured for Arthur to lead the way, and followed the vampire up the stairs, mildly surprised to discover Juno following along as well.

The curtains were drawn inside the room, but Arthur flicked on the lights, illuminating the space. Much like the rooms he and his father were staying in, this room seemed to be decorated to the tastes of an older teenage or college age boy who no longer lived at home: sparse, simple, and barely decorated. The only bits of color were on the red walls and red bed sheets.

“How many brothers does Theodore have?” Charlie wondered aloud, crossing his arms and leaning against the trim of the doorway.

“Just two, I think,” Juno muttered, putting one hand on the opposite side of the doorway and one on her hip as she watched Arthur warily.

The vampire got on his knees and rummaged around underneath the twin bed, sending a baseball and some old socks out into the open, before producing a wooden baseball bat.

“I accidentally kicked it underneath the bed,” he admitted, climbing back up to his feet. He held out the baseball bat to Charlie. “I mean, who knows, maybe you can splinter it and use it to stake vampires in the heart.”

Juno snorted back a laugh.

“...What?” Arthur asked defensively.

“I'm guessing you're a Buffy fan?” She shook her head. “Vampires can die just like humans can - they don't need anything special like a wooden stake.”

Arthur's eyes widened. “...Oh.”

“What about silver bullets and werewolves?” Charlie asked Juno.

“I mean, I've never been shot at with a silver bullet, nor any bullet, but I'm pretty sure a normal bullet can still kill me.” Then she frowned. “Maybe. I don't know. I heal quicker now."

“Then maybe you're also wrong about vampires and wooden stakes too,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

“Regardless - “ Charlie cut in before Juno could respond. “I think a baseball bat will do just fine, Arthur. Thank you.”

He took the bat from the vampire.

They don't trust each other, Charlie thought as he twisted the bat in his hands, looking it over. Well - Arthur's trying, but Juno's not helping. If we're on the same side... we need to trust each other.

He glanced back at Arthur and Juno. Remembering his first meetings with them, when they had been... monstrous.

You need to stop thinking of them as that, too.

“You have any siblings, Arthur?” Charlie suddenly asked. “Family?”

“Me?” Arthur blinked at the unexpected question. “I... yes. I have an older sister. Stephanie. She played softball, actually. My parents are divorced. I'm not really close with either of them nowadays. Why?”

“Just making conversation.” His answer was clumsy, and he was pretty sure Juno saw right through it, but Charlie pressed on. He waved the bat through the air. “You play any sports yourself?”

Arthur shook his head. “No. My sister was the sporty one. I... spent a lot of time with friends. Or tried to, at least. Mom was overprotective of me, so I snuck out a lot.”

He seemed to finally pick up on what Charlie was saying, and turned his head to Juno. “Did I hear right that Charlie said you know how to kickbox?”

“I learned that the hard way,” Charlie said with a chuckle.

Juno shot a glare at Charlie, before letting out a sigh. “Yeah. My dad put me in it when I was young because I pestered him constantly about wanting to learn how to fight. I probably would've gone professional had things been different.”

“What went...? Oh. You got bit, right?” Arthur asked.

“Nah, this was before that. No, my dad was a professor of astronomy, and he, um... he fell down a long stairwell, while at work. He survived, miraculously, but went into a coma. And hospital bills aren't cheap, so... “

Juno rubbed a thumb on the inside of her wrist as she trailed off in thought. When she removed her hand, Charlie caught a glimpse of a tattoo of a constellation, though he couldn't tell which one.

“Well, needless to say, I grew up pretty fast and took on some well-paying but shitty work to try and cover them,” she summed up. “But that's all in the past. I mean, I'm still paying for the bills, but The Arktos set me up with a job that pays really well, and with good benefits too.”

“They did that?” Charlie said, raising a brow.

“Mm-hmm. Yeah, believe me, I had to pinch myself when they offered that, to prove to myself I wasn't dreaming. They really look out for the members of the skulk.”

What about now?

Thankfully, Charlie had the wherewithal to not voice that question.

Will they still look out for you if they think you've turned against them? Will they force you in line using your comatose dad?

You're being untrustworthy again.

Not of Juno. Just of The Arktos. And... I don't want to accidentally send her back to them, either.

“What about you?”

“What?” Juno's question pulled Charlie out of his thoughts.

“Come on - you started this, so now it's your turn. You close with your dad?” Juno asked.

Charlie blinked at the expectant Juno, and looked at Arthur, who also seemed to be waiting for a response.

“Uh - no. Not really,” he finally answered. “He's my dad, sure, but he shoved me in a lot of boarding schools until I was old enough to look after myself. So, he's just a dad in the most minimum sense of the word. He also told me later in life that he used what my mom had left him in her will to pay for all of that.”

“What happened to your mom?” Arthur said.

“She died giving birth to me,” Charlie answered simply. Memories of stories his father had told him about his mother swirled in his head, but he pushed them aside and moved on from that as quickly as he could. “He also told me our necromancy was a curse, which I know now to be completely false, but back then I just had, uh, very vocal suspicions that he was wrong. Which he didn't like hearing. So yeah, not super close with my dad.”

He glanced down the hallway to the room where Robert resided.

“But he didn't ask to be involved in all of this, and yet he is because of me, so... I want to make sure he'll be okay.” Charlie gave a nod to Juno. “Thanks for helping him when we arrived, by the way. It's... meaning isn't lost on me, considering, you know... what your dad is going through.”

“Don't mention it,” she answered quickly. She shifted her weight and cleared her throat awkwardly. “So, anyways - that all you were looking for?”

Juno pointed to the bat Charlie held in his hands.

“Oh, no - Joanne wants me to find some sort of small, handheld item for me to enchant,” Charlie explained, glancing between Juno and Arthur. “Want to help me look for that too?”

“I got nothing better to do right now.” Juno shoved her hands into her pockets and gave a shrug.

“Me neither,” Arthur whispered with a shake of his head.