NIGHTWORLD

27: Teardrinker

The Homunculus attack shook the bones of the entire castle, shuddering through the foundation and echoing up the walls. Jaro saw dust sprinkling down from the ceiling, the muted cry of something not unlike a whale following close behind. 

“So the bugger actually delivered, huh?" Frankie asked, whistling. “How 'bout it." 

Ioana leaned forward, spitting once on Dracula's squashed vrykolakas before turning away, making over to one of the side doors. “Come, I want to be getting a look at this thing." 

Weapons up, the rest of the team kept close behind her. Jaro stuck to the front by Ioana's side, while Kristian decided the rear was a safer bet. Why? Why did you have to tell me now? 

His father was dead. Had been since the moment Jaro first stepped foot in Nightworld. Did he die thinking I was a coward? That I hated him? Just like Boz, it was another open thread Jaro could never close. Kristian had known the truth, so had Isla. Did Kadir? He was close with Isla. Jaro glanced back at the caracal. You would have told me, right? They'd thought it would be easier to control Jaro if he didn't know the truth. Back then they just saw him as a potential asset, a newly infected vampire who's strength they could usurp. 

Would anything really have changed if I'd known? Did you truly accomplish what you set out to? He should feel angry. He should feel furious at being lied to, and hurt, and crushed that his father was gone forever and they'd never speak again. 

Instead, he only felt… numb. Like a balloon drifting into outer space, totally untethered from the world beneath his feet. They didn't do it to hurt him, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt. As the team jogged in formation down the narrow hallway, Jaro glanced back at the downtrodden pine marten. I could never hate you, but can I trust you? 

Grunting from the effort, Ioana shoved open a stubborn wooden door, the hinges squealing in protest after decades of neglect. Cool night air washed in through the gap, causing Jaro to blink in surprise, as he realised how stuffy it had been down in the caves.

Team Two stepped out onto the small landing, paws leaning against the parapet, the moonlight illuminating the world before them. They were dozens of stories from the ground, and wind whipped at their ears and fur. The Godhead's Lament was dizzyingly massive, larger than any skyscraper he'd seen, and far wider. All our technology, advancement, and we'd never create something like this. The castle was the result of constant work, a frankenstein of construction built on top of itself again and again. Intricate towers and sky-bridges fed different chambers into itself again and again, a bizarrely beautiful monster. Too large to hold in your head, too imposing to turn your back to.

“Are you seeing it!?" Ioana asked, pointing.

“Ho-ly fuck!" Frankie cried, laughing into the wind as she leaned out over the rail. “That thing is one bloody big ankle-biter!"

Jaro stepped up between them, finally looking down. The ground rushed up to meet him, his vampire sight stretching on far deeper than any mortal eyes could go. He felt the others' psychic shock, wonder, awe, and fear swirling together around him like a smog. He was almost used to the constant buzz of other people's thoughts, and brushed it aside without much care, finally seeing it – 

The Homunculus. 

The beast was larger than any living thing Jaro had ever seen in his life. It could have swallowed a blue whale, a sea unto itself. He'd been expecting a more concrete shape, something to compare it to. Instead, the Homunculus was more like a giant fleshy-smear, curled rolls of meat and claws stretching out in every direction. It stretched and undulated, anthropomorphic pieces like hands and mouths opening all across it. Bulbous pus-filled eyes blinked along its hide, staring up blindly at the heavens as its thick tentacle-like limbs smashed apart the bricks at the base of the castle, dust filling the air.

“Zakhar was right, it is one hell of a distraction," Devna said, looking down through her sniper scope. Jaro saw it too. Dozens upon dozens of thralls fell from the castle walls like wasps launching from the hive, throwing themselves wantonly from whatever height they reached the outside world. They swarmed over the Homunculus like ants on a corpse, their horrific existence snuffed out as they fell into its mouths and were crushed between the rolls of fat and alien musculature. 

“He grew that thing in a tube," Kadir said, sneering down. “Makes me sick."

“Perhaps we should have unleashed it during the daylight," Devna said, casting her eyes up at the night sky. “The thralls would be weaker." 

“But this way none of them will fear leaving the castle," Jaro said. “We need as much of this force out as we can." It still wouldn't be enough. He could feel it. Something was waiting for them, and this kind of distraction wouldn't fool Dracula.

Turning away from the carnage below, Kadir cast his gaze up at the castle above them. “I forgot how big this place is. It would take weeks to search the whole thing, who knows where he's hiding?" 

“There," Kristian said, pushing past the caracal and pointing towards the central section of the keep. “He won't be hiding."

Breaking down the castle meant dividing it into columns. Jaro could see what Kristian meant now – the castle known as the Godhead's Lament was in reality nine separate massive towers, all interconnected with bridges and buttressed reinforcements. The construction had hidden it beneath spires and spikes, but the layout was there, hidden in plain sight. 

The bricks used across the years for each of the 'different' towers had faintly different tones and colours, with the ones used in the central spire standing out as the clear eldest. Faded entirely to grey they were ragged and chipped, set deep into the mountain rock, with small repairs and augmentations added over the centuries. 

“That's Dracula's real castle," Kristian added. “A castle within a castle. I would wager he rarely steps out of it. As for the location of his throne room… where else?" 

Near to the very top of the central spire was something rarely seen on the outside of the keep – a window. A long, tall shard of stained red glass. That was the location of Dracula's throne, without a doubt. 

“How far you think it is from here to there?" Kadir asked.. 

“You mean directly?" Devna shrugged. “Maybe a quarter-kilometre. There is a lot of elevation." 

“Shit, it's too far, I knew we spent too long in those damned labs," Kadir growled, turning as another shudder erupted out below them. “They aren't slowing." Jaro turned back over the parapet, and as Kadir had said the Homunculus was absolutely swarmed. Parts of it were hidden completely beneath a black blanket of vampire slaves. He saw now that not all of the attackers were thralls – some seemed to be fully fledged vampires in their own right, directing the undead horde, wielding large swords and spears as they hacked impotently at the monster's hide. Minor lords in the vampire regime, Jaro supposed. 

“We should stop wasting time staring then," Kristian added. “So much ground to cover." 

Kadir checked his watch. “I don't know if we're gonna make it. If the thralls stop the Homunculus before we get to the throne room…" He didn't bother finishing the sentence. “We need to move, now." 

“Hold up a sec," Frankie said, dumping her pack on the ground.

“What now?" Kadir growled.

The dingo grinned. “No reason we can't give our friend a helping paw, huh?" She slid a thin metal tube from the side of backpack, shucking it out to its full length with one fierce tug. An M72 LAW rocket launcher.

“How long have you had that?" Jaro asked.

“Whole time, 'course. Was gutted I never had the chance to use it." Frankie braced the rocket launcher on one shoulder, glancing back at Ioana. “Got my six, mate?" Although the two women didn't share a language, the one-armed fox nodded, pulling out a missile from her own pack and neatly slotting it into the back of Frankie's gun. The dingo trained her sights down at the Homunculus, slowly panning across until she settled on the base of another tower on the far side of the castle. Thralls fell from the brickwork like water, slamming into the ground and clambering over each other as they rushed at Zakhar's monster in a bloodthirsty frenzy. 

“Wait," Kristian said, stepping forward. “We should choose the most optimal target–"

“Yeah nah, been waitin' for this since we bloody well arrived." Frankie squared up, squeezing one eye shut. “Enough pussy-footing around." 

She fired. Smoke and flames blew out the rear of the rocket launcher with a sharp shoont, the missile taking flight with blistering speed, spiralling slightly as the wind caught it. Thankfully the target was big, and Frankie let out a deep roar of victory as the missile collided with the base of the tower, erupting in a huge ball of fire and debris. Thralls were blown aside, limbs ripping apart like paper as the heat scorched their flesh. Bricks became shrapnel and a heady groan sounded through the night air as the tower faltered, staying upright as it fell down one step, before toppling over achingly slow. Jaro's ears caught a collective cry of desperation from the thralls as the shadow of the tower swallowed their battlefield whole. 

They felt the impact of the tower's collapse even on the balcony, a huge crash that rocked the earth, completely blinding the scene below in a thick veil of dust and chaos.

“Fuck me, yeah cunt!" Frankie whooped, slotting her rocket launcher closed again, burning her fingers in the eagerness. “That felt bloody good!"

“Holy shit," Kadir muttered, blinking in disbelief. The team stood in shock, unsure how to react. 

Frankie slammed a fist on her chest, standing to face the others and pointing out dramatically towards Dracula's throne room. “Listen fuckers. That bastard has taken so much from each and every one of us! My sister, Kadir's husband, Isla's life, Devna's son, Jaro's mortality, Ioana's home! Isla always said we could put the fear of death back into them! The vampires are complacent, lazy – they're weak, and out here the weak die. I got two more of those rockets riding with my gal Ioana, so let's stop wringin' our paws over how many stairs we gotta climb and go shove them up Dracula's fucking ARSEHOLE!" 

Jaro couldn't help it, he let out a cheer with the others, Kadir seizing his arm and squeezing hard. 

“We're gonna have to move fast," the caracal said. “This is not over, the hardest part hasn't even begun." 

“Neither has the fun part," Frankie added, grinning wide. 

Finally leaving the balcony, the Team began to move fast. Kadir and Frankie directed them from the front, arguing briefly at each split and stairwell. Jaro kept to the middle of the pack, one paw braced on the small shotgun Devna had given him, the other kept free and ready for Frankie's wrist-blades. Ioana, Devna, and Kristian stuck to the rear, the snow leopard's sniper rifle up, scope cocked to one side for close-quarter combat.

The Team nearly ran into each other as Kadir and Frankie whirled around a corner, quickly stopping as the caracal dragged the dingo back behind the wall, flattening them against the bricks. 

“What is it?" Devna asked, craning her neck. 

“Thralls," Kadir whispered. 

“We can bloody well take 'em," Frankie said. 

Jaro stepped up to them, cautiously leaning around. A steady stream of animated corpses went galloping through an entryway further down the path, no mind paid to the direction the Team were hiding in. 

“Every thrall we shoot is ammo we can't pump into Dracula," Kadir snapped. “We should avoid fights, if we can." 

Frankie grunted, but seemed to accept it. 

Finally the stream of thralls began to dwindle, the last stragglers dashing through. “Alright, they're gone," Jaro said, waving for the rest of the Team to follow. 

He could read their fear and adrenaline. Kadir's thoughts were haunted by images of vampires bursting out of the walls any second. Frankie thought only of blood and fire, great halls blazing as Dracula begged for mercy, her sister's ghost waiting by her side. 

Kristian was racked with guilt. Unlike the others, his thoughts were on Jaro. It stung, and the wolf had to force himself not to start crying as he tried to shut out the thoughts. (Will Jaro ever love me again is it over is it over why didn't I tell him I should have told I can't believe I'd lie I need him I can't lose him I can't). Like a torrent it fell upon Jaro's mind, and eventually he had to shove it all aside, closing himself off completely. Too distracting. They'd sort through all of that noise afterwards. 

The others huffed and puffed as the Team scaled their ninth set of stairs, keeping at a brisk pace, struggling to match Jaro's level of endurance and speed.

Dracula's waiting for us, he thought, pausing at the top of some richly adorned stairs. This has been too easy. Did he clear the way on purpose? 

The last tunnel up had seen a shift in the interior decor. Previously the rooms had all been functional; stark bricks and armouries, torture racks, small rivers of blood. In this section the utilitarian style gave way to a more lavish sensibility, each room decorated in an aristocratic and frankly cheap imitation of luxury. Gold adorned every accent, the stairs were coated in a luscious red carpet, now left filthy from the trail of muddy boot prints painted across it. Paintings of strangers and stranger places hung across the walls. Who is this all for? 

Jaro let the others file past him, bringing up the rear as they turned once more. 

“Is anyone keeping track of where the bloody hell we might be, exactly?" Frankie called back, words shooting out between heavy gasps. “I'm lost, this place is massive."

“The tower… tapers," Kristian said, between heavy breaths. “So long as we… keep going up, we'll reach the throne room eventually."

“We are close," Devna added, her voice ice-cold. “Very close." 

“She's right," Jaro said. He could feel Dracula waiting above them, hanging like a sword over Damocles. It was a pressure not unlike what he'd felt with the vrykolakas, an ocean of power and time, a presence you could lose yourself in. No wonder the other vampire lords obeyed him, it was almost unfathomable to imagine standing against a power like that. 

And we're supposed to, with pea-shooters and hope. Jaro wanted to laugh. Suddenly their guns felt ridiculously inadequate. Pathetic, even. They'd been almost useless against Ashani and the others, what good could they do to Dracula? Will a stake in his heart even work? What if he really is immortal?

The team finally slowed to a halt in a long, scarcely-furnished dining room. A table that had never been used dominated the centre of the room, while seven empty fireplaces lined the walls. It's like a funhouse version of a mansion, Jaro thought, eyeing up a strangely ornate painting of a rock. There were too many chairs, and some – but not enough – cutlery. It felt like a child playing house. Does he come down here and play with his dolls?

“Why did we stop?" He asked. 

“I don't see a way up, do you?" Kadir asked, opening another door and scowling at yet more steps leading down.

“Perhaps we've gone too high," Kristian suggested. “The throne room could be below us." 

Jaro shook his head at the same time Frankie did. Her vrykolakas might have been both underdeveloped and neutered by the Hellsing serum, but it was still there. “No," Jaro said. “I can feel him. Dracula's above us." So close, too. Can he feel me? The presence remained unmoving. Vampire laziness? Or did he know something Jaro didn't? 

“How long until the thralls finally bring down that thing outside?" Kadir asked, receiving a round of shrugs right back. “Shit. There were even more of them than I thought. If Zakhar's homunculus dies, we go next. This has to happen fast." 

“No good if we cannot continue going up," Devna said. “Perhaps we need to double back around, we could have missed a staircase." 

“Yeah nah," Frankie said, pushing forward. “This place is a bloody maze, we start doubting ourselves we'll be trapped down here for hours. Ioana, can a girl get a missile or what?" She proffered her paw, and the fox grinned, digging out one of the LAW missiles and passing it over.

“I am loving this thing," she said in Wallachian. Ioana only understood a few words in English, but most of them were for guns.

“You can't fire that thing in here, Frankie," Kadir said, as the dingo ignored him. “There isn't enough space for the launch." 

“You see me pulling out the launcher?" She asked, brandishing a roll of duct tape as she scampered up onto the table. “Rest of yous, get to one side, Devna mate, keep that pretty gun of yours ready, aight?" 

“If you say so," the snow leopard said, as Kadir unhappily corralled the others to one side. 

“Ran out of grenades back in Orobos, but this'll do just fine." Frankie taped the missile to the ceiling, making sure it was nice and secure before jumping down and dashing to the others. 

“My Mum used to read me this story, whenever Dad got too bad." A smile broke on her face. “We're going on a bear hunt," she whispered, dropping to a kneel beside Devna. “We're gonna catch a big one. But we're stuck with a bloody fuckin' floor in the way, and the daft cunts have hidden the stairs. Well… can't go over it." 

“Can't go around it," Kristian whispered. 

“We will have to be going through it," Devna muttered, putting her eye to the scope and squeezing the trigger. The shot was loud and piercing, blowing out the ears of each of the Team and exploding the piece of duct tape. No explosion followed.

The missile half fell, dangling from the scraps of tape, decidedly unexploded. 

“What the hell? Did you miss?" Frankie asked, scoffing.

“I did not miss, the shot glanced off the casing. Missiles are not built to be detonated this way." Devna dialled in her sights once again, exhaled smoothly, then pulled the trigger. 

The shot rang out and the missile exploded. The explosion shook the roof, metal sliding above as the ceiling collapsed, dust and debris falling down in a huge tumble of bricks. Jaro's eyes popped as thousands of gold coins came flowing through the opening, bouncing across the table and cascading onto the floor.

Kristian stood, wincing as he removed his fingers from his ears. “Is that… what I think it is?" 

Frankie snickered. “Golden shower."

Jaro didn't know what to say. He only blinked as thousands and thousands of gold coins came sliding through the gap. It was painfully loud, metallic hail magnified a hundred times over, each and every coin ricocheting and echoing off the next. 

Finally, the heap slid to a halt, the flickering light from the oil lamps shining bright against the metal.

“What… is this?" Kadir asked, blinking. “I don't understand." 

Jaro stepped forward, metal crunching beneath his boots. He stared up through the gap in the ceiling, half-filled with a pile of coins that extended far into the room above. “Some kind of treasury, looks like." 

“This is an absolute monarchy," Kristian muttered, joining him. Above them the room shone yellow, tinted by a huge mass of treasure. The coins that had fallen through were only the smallest edge of a colossal pile, a mountain of prosperity. “An absolute monarchy! If Nightworld society operates with any kind of currency, it is one of blood and flesh and power. Why is this here? Dracula's Cortège has no need for gold, it makes no sense!" 

“Seems even the Impaler isn't immune to shiny things," Frankie laughed, picking up one of the coins and pocketing it. “So you're telling me when we're done here, we're all gonna be rich, right?"

“One thing at a time," Kadir growled. “Jaro, get up there and start tugging people up after you." 

Jaro gave a short mock-salute, stepping close to the opening and flexing his muscles, bending down and hopping up in one great bound. 

He flew through the gap and landed on a clear bit of marble flooring, already overwhelmed with the sheer light of the room. 

Dracula's treasury was massive. Another massively open space of smooth walls and adorned cornices. Unlike the dimly-lit halls of every other room in the Godhead's Lament, however, this room was absolutely crowded full of lamps. Chandeliers hung along the top, sconces lined the walls, anything to create more reflection, more opulence, more light. With Jaro's sensitive eyes it was almost painful. 

It wasn't just gold, either. While piles of coins and ingots towered behind and beside him, Jaro saw huge stacks of paintings, rich tapestries, rare cloths, intricate pottery, and even bookshelves crammed with ancient tomes. It was hard to take in, the sheer level of wealth in this room alone. A fortune that can't be spent. All the gold coins in the world are useless in a place like this. 

“Jaro, for fuck's sake stop gawking and help me up!" Kadir cried. 

Shaking out of his stupor, Jaro turned back, bending down and offering the caracal a paw up. He easily heaved the cat up into the treasury, leaving Kadir to gawk himself as Jaro helped the others.

Frankie was the last to come through, her previous grin suddenly vanished. She paid no attention to the fortune surrounding them, only staring forward at a dark marble wall.

“You can feel it too, huh?" Jaro asked.

She nodded slowly. “He's there," she whispered. “Dracula. I can feel him. In the next room." 

The sense of him was stronger than ever now. The pulse of the night throbbing deep inside his skull. A message without words, screaming over and over to obey. A part of Jaro wanted to throw himself down, to press his face to the floor and beg for mercy. His parasite may have been lobotomised by Zakhar's surgery, but it still recognised its better. 

“He knows we're here, too," he added.

“Jaro, what are we gonna do when we actually see him?" Frankie turned, and for the first time since they'd met, Jaro saw fear in her eyes. He could sense her thoughts, pictures of them all drained of blood. Strung up corpses, the whole team another one of Dracula's trophies. “We don't have a plan. What, shoot him enough that you can rip his head off? But what if the first thing he does is kill you? Huh? We got nothing after that! These?" She raised her paws, shotgun in one, silver stake in the other. “They ain't gonna be worth shit." 

“You can't plan for something like that," Jaro replied. “We have no idea what he's even capable of. Hell, he might not even be physical, he could just be some fucking amorphous cloud of darkness. Maybe he really is a God of death, I dunno. All we can do is hope. I don't like the chances, but there's nobody else. If we die, he goes through the Source with an army at his back. By the time the rest of the world realises what's happening it'll be too late."

Frankie inhaled deeply, nodding. “Hope. Great. Hope that's enough." She shook her head. “Damn, look at all this stuff, huh? What's he supposed to even do with…" She paused, leaning in and squinting. “Hold the front door… is that…" 

“What?" Jaro asked, but the dingo quickly shoved him aside, rushing past the others and circling around a tall stack of gold bars.

“My TRUCK!" She cried, laughing in disbelief. The others ran up to her, staring in wonder. “That bastard stole my bloody wheels!" 

Jaro circled behind. Frankie was right – nestled into the treasury at the far front of the hall, was the huge four-wheel drive military truck they'd first walked through the Source with. 

“How did he get it up here?" Kristian muttered, staring at the floor as if he could see the distance between them. The last anyone had seen of it, the truck was buried in a cave out the front of the castle. They'd climbed over it to escape, then forgotten about it during the ambush. 

“A better question is why did he bring it up here?" Jaro asked.

“She's a beauty huh, even he couldn't deny it!" Frankie scoffed, slapping the side with an echoing thud. 

Jaro stared around, still in shock at the trove of captured goods. The paintings, the chandeliers, all of this excess… why? Mountains of gold stacked higher than his father's house, centuries old paintings sequestered away. Someone had to dig that out of the ground, refine it, shape it, and bring it to this room… for nobody but Dracula and his mindless thralls. Why?

This is the late stage of vampire society, he realised. This is why he wants to invade Earth. He's killed every enemy, and eaten all the people. This is the end. The inevitable conclusion of a world filled with beings who did nothing but consume – the ultimate goal of predators that fed on the lifeblood of lesser beings, crushing them beneath their heel for money, power, and food. Resource, at any cost. What did Nightworld look like before Dracula?

All Jaro could think about was Africa and Afghanistan, about how angry the wars made Boz. This is what he always said they were doing. Endless consumption at the expense of weaker people. Collective trauma weaponised by the Americans as justification for an illegal war. Blood for oil, modern-day colonialism. A global superpower was just a vampire by another name. 

Isla's plan was always to start a base here, to colonise it. Dracula wanted to invade our world, but we tried to invade his first. Noah knew it, but we were too naive. This wasn't about protecting Earth. Nightworld was always just another resource for the superpowers of Europe.

“Are you alright?" Kristian asked, stopping by his side. Jaro shook his head, realising the others had already moved past him.

“I'm fine," he said, eyes locked onto the ridiculous chandelier hanging in the centre of the treasury ceiling, shaking in time with tremors from the Homunculus outside. “Seeing all this… shit here. It just made me think about things."

“I'm sorry, Jaro," Kristain whispered, his slender paw gently reaching out to embrace Jaro's. “I never meant to hurt you. At first I was following Isla, and after that I… couldn't bear to tell you the truth. I was a coward. I thought you'd hate me, and you'd be right to." 

He could tell from the marten's thoughts that he was telling the truth. The boy loved him. Is love enough? To move past a betrayal like that? It was too big a question to ask now.

“Where do you think it came from?" Jaro asked. 

Before Kristian could answer, a long, low whistle echoed through the treasury. Jaro's blood ran cold, the rest of the team ahead all freezing in place. 

“Oh no," Kristian muttered. 

Jaro turned towards the back of the room. A great black wolf sat several metres off the ground, splayed out on a makeshift throne of gold bars. His eyes were blood red, a long leather coat draped around his shoulders and body, hood hanging down his back. A long, curved sickle dangled in one large paw. 

Romulus, the Teardrinker. 

“The spoils of war," said the vampire, waving his free paw out at the treasure trove. “These baubles before thee are all that remain of the empires which stood before Dracul Reign. Worry not, in time thou shall come to join these trinkets." 

“Fuck you!" Kadir growled, racking the slide on his rifle.

Romulus only chucked, drawing up to his full height atop the gold pile. There was no effort or momentum to his movements, he simply slid up to his feet. “My Lord stands beyond this room, he prays you join his company. O'... but thou would weep to see him in all his splendour and terror, were thee given the chance. Long hath we waited for thee, knowing thoust would come… pity, when prey walks so eagerly into one's own jaw."

The vampire unclasped his cloak, tearing it from his body and tossing it to one side. It flew through the air, even falling gracefully. Romulus stood shirtless, muscles rippling beneath his night-black fur. He twirled the sickle in one paw, his eyes only for Jaro.

Romulus stepped forward like a dancer, dropping from his perch and plummeting to the floor, landing silently into a crouch. As he rose back up, a grin split his dark muzzle, fangs gleaming.

Without a word, Frankie raised her shotgun and fired right at him. The gunshot boomed in the open space, a spray of buckshot slamming into the vampire's chest, ripping his flesh and spraying black ichor out behind him. The Teardrinker scarcely flinched.

“Bastard," she spat. 

“Truly, that is all thou brought?" He asked, cocking his head, voice almost sounding disappointed. “Toys? Did it take so little to end the reign of my brothers and sister?" 

GIVE UP. His voice screamed inside Jaro's head, the psychic command hitting each of the others in turn, the members of the team wincing in pain. KNEEL. 

Jaro grunted, his body twitching, aching to obey. He imagined a canvas in his mind, slowly drawing out the protection runes that Chevron had given him. Teeth ached in his jaw from how hard he clenched them, refusing to let his knees buckle.

“I'm… not… your slave," he growled.

“And what of them?" Romulus asked, bowing slightly. 

Jaro turned to see the others, all knelt down on one knee. Frankie and Kadir resisted the most, their bodies shaking with rage,but ultimately capitulating. “What?" Jaro had shared the runes with all of them, they should be safe. 

“Takes more than paltry swamp magic to stop me," Romulus cooed. 

SILVER. Each of them dropped their guns, drawing their silver stakes. 

“Pray tell, how many friends have you killed, Jaroslav?" Romulus asked. He may not be in control of Jaro's body, but the wolf still felt the vampire rooting around. This was the Teardrinker's specialty, he was a mental burglar checking the windows and doors, prying at each one, needing only a single weakness to worm his way inside. “How many have you watched die?" 

HEARTS. The command rang out between them, and Jaro's throat closed up as each of the team pressed their stakes to their own chest. Kadir hissed savagely, furiously trying to inch the blade away, but even he wasn't immune. 

“Thou is going to let them all die, again," Romulus continued, slowly closing the distance. Jaro backed up, trying to keep everything in view, gold glimmering all around him. “I've seen your mind, Jaroslav. I've seen how you let your friends down. What good did Isla die for? Your father? And what of Boz? He begged you for help, but you didn't even know his full name." (Please, Pueryddon, I need you)

Jaro snarled, lips curling back over his fangs. An image forced itself into his head – Boz in the water that last night they were together. (Help me don't let me die) Boz's body lying on the slab. (This whole thing is a shame we will forget) The French staff officer approving Jaro's discharge. WEAK. 

He put his paws to his skull, screaming in pain as each memory was forced on him. “GET OUT OF MY HEAD!" 

“Thou is one of us, now," Romulus said. “Strong. Immortal. Cruel. You could leave these meals behind and walk by our side, did thee ever consider?" 

“Fuck off." 

“They don't care about you, I have seen it and soon you will too. Kadir, Kristian, Frankie, Devna, Ioana… to them thou is a monster in a familiar body. A means to an end. How many times have each one said no more vampires? Hast thou thought, when they kill every last one of us, there will still be one left in the world." 

“No," Jaro snapped. “NO! I'm not like you!" 

“You are everything like me," Romulus laughed. He was closer now, circling like a shark. “A natural predator that hunted Fyodor, Belisarius, and Ashani. When you return to your world… your Europe… what will you do? How many years need to go by until you start to care less about mortal lives? Care less about their need for immediate gratification? Don't be a fool. Thou will only be a monster to them, and any that love you will eventually wither and die. Thee has expelled his worm, you can't save anymore."

Jaro flicked his wrist out, extending the blades with a shing. With his left paw he drew the sawn-off shotgun. “I've listened to you talk long enough. Let them go, and fight me." 

“They will turn on you," Romulus whispered. “Every mortal in the world, eventually they will hate you for what you are. All I'm doing… is speeding up the clock." He grinned once again. 

KILL. 

Jaro leapt back as Team Two lunged for him all at once. They moved clumsily, eyes wide and terrified, slashing out with their silver stakes. They were like marionettes with large, over-exaggerated movements. Jaro ducked beneath Frankie's stab, stepping back to avoid a shanking from Kristian. Kadir roared, at what exactly Jaro couldn't tell, but the caracal lowered his head and ran right for him, stake extended. Jaro deflected the blow with his wrist-blades, sparks flying. Trying to pull the force of the blow back, he twisted, kicking into Kadir's gut and sending him flying back across the room. 

“I'm s-sorry!" Devna hissed from behind, slamming her silver stake into Jaro's shoulder. He roared, whirling on the snow leopard and shoving her away. Pain lanced across his body like fire, shivering needles pushing down through his nervous system. It was poison inside him, fault lines throughout his body. He tried to tug the stake free but there was no separate grip by design. His own fingers burnt as soon as they brushed it, and the team were still coming for him. 

Jaro ducked and weaved two more blows from Frankie and Kristian, always on the back foot, Kadir already back on his feet with his stake in paw. Each movement sent more pain shimmering down Jaro's spine, mind racing as he tried to figure out how to disable his friends without hurting them.

“Thou lets them down again!" Romulus cried, he jumped into the air, soaring over them all and slamming into the tiles right behind Jaro. The wolf ducked as the vampire slashed, sickle cutting through the air with a tight whoosh. Frankie and Kristian stabbed clumsily as Jaro danced, turning on his heel and knocking the Teardrinker's blade aside, sparks flying . 

“Every one!"

“No!" Jaro snarled. “I won't! Never again!" 

KILL! KILL! The vampire's psychic commands were overwhelming, a rhythmic drum of order almost impossible to resist. 

Jaro traded blows with the vampire, Ioana almost catching his throat with a sharp jack-knife up. Jaro kicked her away, before dropping to the ground and sweeping his foot beneath Kristian and Frankie's ankles. They cried out as they crashed into the floor, dropping their stakes. 

The sweep gave Romulus a chance, and the Teardrinker took it. His sickle whooshed through the air, and pain exploded in Jaro's left ear as the top half was sliced off. Black ichor sprayed onto his face, dripping from the severed ear, pain radiating downwards. His back was still on fire, every slight twist of his shoulder only bringing more pain. But Jaro couldn't afford to stop, he spun, kicking away the loose stakes on the ground, whirling to face the vampire.

“Pathetic, weak, to think I mistook thou for one of our rank!" Romulus snarled. He smashed an elbow into Jaro's face, breaking a bone. A low kick followed sharply, the joint in Jaro's knee exploding beneath it. Kadir cried out to alert him, and Jaro was able to stumble out of the way of his clumsy stab, the trajectory of his dodge carried him right into the point of Romulus's sickle. The metal point dug deep into his gut, the curve reaching up beneath his sternum and hooking onto the back of his ribcage. Jaro screamed in agony as the vampire lifted him up, hissing venomously as he hurled Jaro across the room. 

The wolf flew, blissfully weightless for a brief second. A moment later the pain came crashing back as he slammed into a wall of gold coins, unstable but unforgiving. He collapsed onto Devna's stake, the silver driven deeper into him as he slid down the loose gold pieces.

“You'll have to kill them to stop them," Romulus cooed, walking towards him.

Jaro rolled to his knees, spitting black blood, knee itching as it knit itself back together, pieces of him popping as they did. He was weaker with every part of him his body healed, and his instincts cried out for blood, throat dry, fangs aching. He put a paw to his chest, it came back soaked. 

WATCH. He looked up to see Romulus looming over him. The black wolf was like death itself, eyes gleaming brilliant crimson in the radiant golden light. The rest of the team stood frozen behind him, forced to watch. 

“Pity, doth thy resolve truly falter so soon?"

“Fuck… you…" Jaro spat, raising his shotgun in a shaking paw and firing. The kickback hurt, the shells doing little to the vampire as they ripped through his neck meat, wounds healing as Jaro watched. The vampire's system was saturated with blood, he'd drunk deep. Jaro was practically starving, he'd been ignoring the darker side of himself. 

“Thou has failed," Romulus said gleefully. “I prayed thy may put up a better fight. But if you wouldn't even try for the one you claimed to love… what hope did a wretch like I hold?" 

The vampire's psychic onslaught redoubled, the grin on his face spreading as he revelled in the torment. Jaro's memories were forcefully dragged up once again. Boz in the water. (Help me I don't know what's wrong with me) Jaro's father, staring at him in disbelief, lying dead outside their family barn. Isla, murdered by her own husband while Jaro watched… even Noah, crushed by Ashani at the foot of Zakhar's tower. 

The people in Steambreather. The Black Tongues Jaro had killed.

“The very air around thee is thick with the smell of death," Romulus tutted. “And thy hasn't even the awareness to savour it. Pathetic." 

“I'm not pathetic," Jaro grunted. 

The vampire kicked him in the side, flipping Jaro onto his back. The vampire's boot landed on Jaro's injured ribs, crushing the life out of him. The psychic attack wreaked havoc on his mind, Romulus's invisible presence pilfering his memories and turning them against him.

“Weakness." Jaro and his father. “Apathy." Boz begging for help. “Lethargy." Cujac burning. Isla dying. “So many sins." 

“N… No…" Jaro grunted, blood coughing up between his teeth. “I won't… let them down…" Not again. Never again. 

“How wrong thee is." Romulus leaned down, punching him in the face. Jaro's skull bounced off the gold, white lights shining at the edges of his vision. The vampire redoubled his boot, throwing more weight onto the wolf's chest as cracks sounded inside him. The silver stake in his back ripped through tendons and flesh, burning a white hole through his body. Jaro let out a long, guttural scream as the final crush sent the blade even deeper, drilling far enough that the tip burst free from the front of his clavicle.

“They're all dead already, Jaroslav," Romulus whispered, fangs glistening. “Thy friends, thy lovers. Just like the ones before." 

The memories were totally unhinged now. Romulus opened the gate, and Jaro felt himself bombarded. Bullets. Sex. Torture. Love. Blood. Hopelessness. Death. Isla. Father. Pain. Failure. Agony. 

Boz.

“Thou failed him first." The Teardrinker rose to his full height once again, blotting out all light before Jaro, the team vanishing behind his figure. “And now, the rest of them follow."