NIGHTWORLD

24: Wax Wings

The alien writhed inside the glass, a body-sized smear of undulating grey and black. Jaro stared hard at it, slowly raising one of his arms. The thing in the mirror mimicked his movements, but it wasn't him. It was nothing, like looking at a shape without any clear definition. Each time he thought he'd found a part that made sense, the reflection would slip away like a fistful of fog.

The tension was shattered as footsteps drew Jaro's focus, and he turned to see Frankie rising up out of the ground as she climbed the stairs into the laboratory. The sky was overcast through the great glass dome above them, but the light was white and sheer, creating deep black shadows that pooled beneath the dingo's eyes.

“Ya still kicking then mate?" She was putting on a brave face, but Jaro could feel the wariness in her tone, he could see the tension in her body. Like the others, Frankie didn't know what to make of him anymore. 

He offered her a shrug, hoping it looked familiar. “Looks like it, huh?" 

“Yeah nah, you were pretty beat up out there." 

After Ashani died, Jaro had collapsed – the fight left him utterly exhausted. He had a vague recollection of the Team dragging him back inside Zakhar's tower. They'd kept their distance as he recovered, and when he was well enough to escape the awkwardness, Jaro had stolen away, hiding himself up in Zakhar's operating theatre.

As Frankie approached him, Jaro's head began to fill up with noise. A wave of foreign images and feelings washed over him, staggering into the sudden bundle of new sensations (Why does he look like that he knows me does he know I'm not sure he can recognise but that isn't why I'm here because it's Jaro it's Jaro not one of them not one of them).

“Jaro?) Was that a thought, or did Frankie actually say his name? 

“What?" He asked, trying to claw his way through the smog in his mind. 

(He's a monster now no he isn't a monster you know him he saved you all) He saw a young dingo woman, but it wasn't Frankie – her sister. She smelled nice, her smile lit up a room. Barely seventeen and buried in an empty coffin (Her body was ash it's ash it's ash there's nothing left watched her die killed her myself). He saw Chevron's hut. The moment when Frankie learned he was infected (kill him right now silver does it).

Paws clenched, Jaro finally managed to wrangle the new noise, dragging it down so he could focus properly. “Sorry," he muttered. “What's up?" 

The dingo, oblivious to how exposed she was, jerked her chin at his torso. “Now that you're a big bad vampire lord, you don't need to dress properly anymore?" 

Jaro looked down at himself, his chest and stomach exposed beneath his coat. After waking up from Zakhar's surgery, there'd been no time to put anything else on.  “To be honest, I don't really feel hot or cold anymore so… guess I just forgot." 

“That's creepy as mate," Frankie said, scoffing. She stopped at his side, staring at the alien in the glass. “You don't really look different, y'know, apart from the eyes. I expected more, really, I dunno."

Jaro frowned, looking at the shape in the mirror. “Wait, you can see me in it?" 

“Course. I always figured that part of the myths was bullshit." 

“Huh. To me…" He wiggled his head, and the alien copied it. Now that Frankie had joined him, he realised the mirror worked just fine – he could see her clear as anything, standing next to the senseless creature. “It's just a mess of nonsense to me. I literally can't even recognise myself. I know this is my arm…" he raised one up, turning it. “...but in the reflection it just doesn't look like anything."  

“Oh." (That can't be true how would that be true?) “I reckon keep that kinda thing to yaself." And what about how I can hear your thoughts? You think the mirror's creepy, just wait.

“That's the plan." Zakhar had claimed his process was irreversible – that indulging in Jaro's vampire side would make the parasite too strong to remove without killing him. Whether that was true or not it was a moot point now, Zakhar was dead, along with nearly every fighting man in the city. He just hoped the vampire had been telling the truth about it suppressing the worm's influence over him. Only thing to do now is wait, see if I end up a bloodthirsty monster. 

“You gotta wonder what the fuck that freak was doing in here," Jaro said, leaving the mirror and staring up at the machines. Some were nearly twice his size, oddly crude cranes and tubes made of all kinds of materials. He stopped on a bronze pedestal, runes carved into the surface, old bloodstains flaking in the grooves. “Part science, part… something else." 

“I actually came here with some news," Frankie said, sniffing sharply. “You remember Zakhar's so-called herald? The fat fox that Noah nearly killed? Yeah, well he reckons once everyone recovers we still go through with Zakhar's plan. Now I dunno what a Homunculus even is, and to be honest I'm scared to ask but… this thing is still on." 

“Why help us?" Jaro asked. “It's because of us his whole town was nearly wiped off the map."

Frankie shrugged. “Guess they don't see it like that. Whatever fucked-up shit Zakhar did to his people, he never made them slaves. The cunt might'a bought babies and turned them into his freaks but… there's some kinda stockholm syndrome shit goin' on here. They had a fuckin' candle-lit vigil for him, for a vampire… can you believe mourning one of those fucking things?" (Hate. Disgust. Giant snake. Jaro. Cunt.) 

Jaro licked his lips. “I suppose not." 

Frankie winced, realising what she'd said – he felt her awkward regret bleed through. It felt wrong, like catching someone in the shower. “Yeah, but mate you're not… you ain't like them, are you?" (One of the good ones do they have good ones probably not) An awkward moment passed, and Frankie was quick to brush past it. “Here, I made ya something." She pulled out a small clinking bundle, passing it to Jaro. 

He unwrapped it, finding a kind of dark leather brace with pieces of silver gleaming across it. He could feel the silver crackling in the air, shining bright in his eyes. Almost hurt to look at.

Unable to contain herself, Frankie snatched it back from him, undoing the leather buckles and offering it up like the sleeve to a coat. “You lot forget I'm good for more than just shooting shit, don't ya? I have a degree in mechanical engineering yaknow, fat lot of good it does me. Here." 

“What–" Jaro relented, stretching his right paw forward and letting her slide the brace over it, pulling the straps tight around his forearm. 

“I realised you can't really deal with silver, canya? So, put this little number together to help the good fight." She released him, and Jaro hefted the brace on his arm. It was indeed a leather gauntlet, slim enough to fit beneath his coat sleeve, a spring-loaded mixture of steel and silver sitting atop. “Zakhar's got enough workshop to make just about fuckin' anything I reckon. It's got weights, here, flick it down… you ever seen the movie Predator?" 

Copying her action, Jaro quickly rolled his arm to the side, hearing some piece of the brace clack internally. A spring fired and two silver stakes extended out the front, passing over his fist and reaching a few inches beyond his fingers. 

“Whoa," he said, raising it up. 

“Fuckin' Predator-Wolverine shit mate! Get that shit up Dracula's dusty old cunt'n see what he says then, huh?" She laughed, smacking Jaro's back. “Gotta be a better shout than just slapping the hell out of each other for hours on end." 

“Thank you… I think…" He said, eyeing the shiny metals. Frankie quickly showed him how to rack the switches, cranking the springs and allowing the stakes to retract. 

“No wukkas, felt good to use my paws for somethin' other than shooting. I hear Devna's melting silver down to make rounds for her rifle too. Man, if any other motherfucker is unlucky enough to end up in Nightworld after this, we gotta make absolutely certain they have the new Van Helsing specials ready to rock, right?" She held up her handgun. “This shit is decent, but for that bitch outside? We should'a just thrown pebbles, would've been about as useful."

Jaro tugged his bloody coat sleeve back down over the gauntlet, making a mental note to change his clothes. “Not so long ago, you shoved a gun in my face and promised you'd kill me when I turned, you know? The second it happened, you said." He threw up his paws, as if to say 'here I am'. “Now look."

A shadow fell across Frankie's face (I did say that I did would I kill my friend I have before). A dozen different options passed through her head at once. Jaro tried his best to ignore them, digging his nails into his palm to help focus. “Yeah, well, things change, don't they?"

“How about the others?" It still felt weird not to breathe – he was unsure what to do with himself when he was standing still, listening. Just be silent, like a statue? Should he pretend to fidget and shift? “You're the first I've spoken to since." 

The dingo blew air from her cheeks, leaning back against one of the workbenches. She stared out the laboratory windows. Despite the glare, it was gloomy outside, and down in the courtyard the people of Orobos worked to drag corpses back to burn. Dark work. There was no choice – if they waited, the ones Ashani killed had half a chance of coming back as thralls. 

“Noah's gone, the back-stabbing bastard," Frankie spat. “No clue where. Amazed he was able to walk after what that bitch did to him. Dunno where he's slunk off to, doubt he'll make it to the Source, to be honest. The others are packing wagons, getting ready to leave."

“Kristian…" Jaro paused, almost afraid to ask. “Kadir?" 

The fact Frankie didn't answer him immediately felt like a bad sign. “The Doctor is alright. Very quiet. He's been helping with the clean-up, treating who he can. Kadir's got a broken arm or something, but last I saw him he was out in the courtyard, barking orders at people who couldn't even understand him." She shook her head. “Would anything stop that man from marching around and yelling at people?"  

“He probably hates me now, doesn't he?" 

The dingo sighed. “I think you need to man up and ask him yourself, mate." Pushing off the workbench, Frankie clapped him on the shoulder, squeezing hard. To Jaro it felt like a child's grip. “You're still the same person, ain't you?" (Are you who is he in there?)

He raised his paws, staring at them. Things felt different. Was it his imagination? “I think so," he said slowly. “It's like driving a car that belongs to someone else. I'm stuck in an empty room with nothing to hold onto. I don't need to breathe, or sleep, there aren't any little aches in my body." Except the thirst in his throat. 

“Yeah, I know, you're a bloody zombie," Frankie shook her head. “But if it weren't for you, we'd all be dead. I think the whole team knows that, even if some of 'em can't see it right now." 

Jaro nodded. “We came a long way, right? Who'd have thought you'd be comforting me at a time like this, considering how this started?" He saw his own face in her mind, the memory at Chevron's hut – shoving him into the tree, a gun jammed in his ribs. 

“Too right. You were supposed to be cured, and fuck me, I was meant to drive. Remember my truck? Struth – an absolute ripper she was, and all I got to do was inch her through that stupid portal." Frankie paused, deep in thought. “Yeah. A lot has changed alright. But you're an okay sort – for a fuckin' immortal servant of the night." 

Jaro snorted. “I better go talk to Kadir then." He moved past the dingo, aiming for the stairs. 

“Oi, wolf-boy!" He glanced back, where Frankie stood with her arms crossed. “I know him. He takes a long time to warm up, but he loves hard, even if he'd only admit it under torture."

Jaro wasn't so sure. But there was nothing else to do but try.

Leaving the lab, Jaro's first stop was his borrowed room. He quickly redressed, pulling on a silk shirt and canvas coat that Zakhar's servants had left in the wardrobe, staying mindful to dress loose enough he could keep Frankie's new weapon ready to go.

As he was leaving the rooms behind, Jaro's ears pricked up at the sound of cracking wood, followed by a string of Wallachian curses echoing down the hall. On instinct his paw reached for a gun, and it took him a moment to remember; he didn't have one, and didn't need it either. You're far worse than any gun now.

Dropping into a half-crouch, Jaro skipped past the bedroom doors, falling flat against the wall at the end of the corridor. He peered around the corner, eyes narrow. 

The hall was empty, but three of the doorways along the side sat wide open, the sounds of rummaging clearly bouncing out from within. “Where is it? I know it's here somewhere… he must have it!" Did Noah come back up to steal more research, now that Zakhar was gone? But then why would he use Wallachian? Besides, the voice didn't match the bear's deep baritone. Careful to remain quiet, Jaro stalked towards the open doors, sneaking a glance into the first room. 

It had been totally ransacked. Drawers hung open, cabinets had been ripped apart, and glass bottles had been smashed. Moving across, the second room was exactly the same, left in utter chaos. 

“Stupid and foolish!" The voice continued, barely audible. “I know it's here!" 

They're looking for something particular, Jaro realised. Rolling his shoulders, he stepped into the last room, immediately surprised as he saw who was responsible for the mess. 

“Ioana?" He asked. The old fox flinched, glancing back over the large chest she was squatted by, a crowbar braced against the lid in her one remaining paw. 

“Jaroslav," she said slowly, watching him the way an antelope watches a far-off lion. “You are finding me at unlikely moment." 

“What are you doing?" He asked, taking a step inside. “What are you looking for?" 

Ioana shrugged, looking back to the chest as she tried to find a wedge to get the crowbar in. “Whatever we can that is useful. Zakhar hoarded information and tools like an old dragon. We could go through this tower for ten years and not discover everything he has hidden." Her thoughts were a jumbled wreck, hurried, panicked even. Like somebody caught doing something they'd rather hide.

Jaro cocked his head. “Why are you lying to me?" 

The old fox licked her lips. Before she could speak, her thoughts betrayed her. Jaro caught flashing glimpses; Chevron's hut, immense pain in the arm, foul poultices and something black bubbling in an iron pot. (Help me don't leave me I'm not useless) He felt helpless, weak, pathetic having just stood by while his whole village was ruined. He wanted to be like the newcomers. Strong. He didn't want to be afraid anymore. (I want to fight this is my home) Chevron said there was no going back. 

Ioana seemed to gather what was happening, and sprung at him over the chest. She let our a war cry, swinging the crowbar towards his head. It moved painfully slowly through the air, and Jaro easily stepped back, avoiding the blow. Ioana released the bar, letting the metal fall with a clang as her arm shot behind her back and she drew her pistol, levelling it at Jaro's face. 

“I do not want to shoot you, Jaroslav," she said, panting. “But I know it will not be killing you. I see your eyes. You are one of them now." 

“Why would you shoot me in the first place, Ioana?" He asked, inching closer, the gun trembling in her grip. “Put it down." He reached out slowly, one paw wrapping around hers as she let him guide her arm towards the floor. 

He saw an image of her out in the Deadlands, hunkered over a slain Black Tongue – one of the rogue servants of the Lady loose in the swamp. Jaro was her, and he felt himself rifle through the pockets, hope swelling in his chest as his fingers found a small warm flask. It was filled with black ichor. Boiled over a fire. Steaming. Smelled toxic, burning the insides of his nose.

“You're a Black Tongue," he said, releasing her, mouth falling open. “That's how you were able to hunt down the others – you were one of them. You've been drinking vampire blood."

The fox scowled, but didn't shrink beneath his gaze. “You know my secret now. That is how Chevron healed me. There is power to be found in their blood, and she unlocked it." 

“Aren't you attached to the Lady now?" Jaro gestured at the ransacked room. “Are you hoping Zakhar has stores of her blood here?" 

“No… Chevron she… In her wise ways, she has a ritual to separate the power from the servitude. The Lady could stand before us right now, and she'd hold no more power over me than you." The fox flopped back, sitting down on the chest. “But I am still a slave to it. Without the blood I will grow weak, and waste away, and die." Her head fell into her paws, shaking. “I do not know what I am doing, Jaroslav. I hardly recognise myself anymore, a prisoner to my own faults. The choice was mine because I wanted to be strong, but this isn't strength. This is pathetic." She sniffed, kicking the crowbar and sending it flying out into the hall. “You see what a fool I am? To think I might dissuade a vampire with a metal lever and a useless weapon? If Vasile could see me now, he would die of shame." 

“Alright, alright," Jaro said, feeling awkward. “Let's not get carried away." He paused, staring down at the old fox. Since the team first arrived in Cujac she'd welcomed them, protecting them from the more frightened members of the village. After that first ambush at the Source, the team had been scattered, what if they'd been turned away? Jaro and Kadir might never have found their way back to the others. 

“You're as much a part of this team as anyone else, Ioana. If vampire blood is what you need, I'm right here." 

The fox looked up at him, and Jaro shrugged. “You… mean to say?"

“How could I not?" He reached a paw across himself, pushing one of his nails into his wrist. It was sharp enough to slice the skin. Ioana stood, offering up a small flask that Jaro accepted, holding it to the wound as the black ichor dripped inside. When it felt full enough, he closed the lid off, shaking his arm as the flesh healed back over. 

“That felt… strange," he admitted. “Like seeing each other naked." 

“Thank you, Jaroslav," Ioana replied. She smirked.  “But my life is perhaps better without your naked body in it." She raised the flask. “You are good man, for someone who is not a man anymore."

“I'm glad someone thinks so."

Leaving Ioana, Jaro made his way back towards the freight elevator. The way the few guards in the tower acted towards him was unsettling, to say the least. They parted around Jaro like the red sea, bowing slightly, voices falling into hushed whispers wherever he went. The're treating me like I'm a vampire lord.

“Going down, sir?" One of the guards asked, manning the small panel of levers on the freight elevator's little boarding platform.

“I suppose so," Jaro replied. A part of him considered simply jumping down the shaft as he had the other day, but as Frankie had said, it was probably better not to remind the others of how different he was to them now. 

Spending the small eternity it took to reach the bottom, Jaro found himself regretting the small act of relatability. You're in a fucking elevator shaft, nobody can see you anyway.

When the lift finally set down, Jaro found the loading bay at the ground floor buzzing with activity. Zakhar's men jogged through, yelling questions and orders, sweeping up the rubble and scrubbing away blood. Most of the bodies had been cleared from inside, and the cannons were nowhere to be seen. Neither is Kadir. 

Frankie said he was outside, barking orders at the convoy of wagons. Jaro might be numb to most sensations of the world, but he was still at the mercy of his feelings. Anxiety bubbled within him at the thought of facing the caracal again. He still remembered the look on his face, right after they'd killed Ashani. 

“What the fuck did he do to you?" Disgust. 

They'd had a good run, Jaro supposed. No matter what happened after today, he'd always know that for a brief minute in time, Kadir had loved him and Kristian. They'd always have that night together. 

Moving through the crowded room, Jaro felt the thoughts of countless individuals bombard him. It was like a fever dream, and it took a second for him to truly filter it down, winding the volume back until the deafening scream became a dull roar. Do I have to deal with this forever now? 

Staring out towards the front gates, the damage Jaro and Ashani had caused was still plain to see. The fence that had once closed off Zakhar's compound was split open, black and red blood sprayed out across every surface, bits of shattered stone littering the ground. The fountain that had once stood in the centre of the square was completely demolished, and the many bodies that had covered the cobblestones had all been dragged off to form several large piles, the bonfires blazing as even more corpses were hauled over by the wagonload. Ashani had gone off like a bomb. On the edges of the town square whole buildings lay in ruin, including the one she'd thrown Jaro through. 

He stopped at the edge of the hangar, staring out into the courtyard. The sun was obscured by thick cloud cover, but did that mean it was safe? The memory of pain from Ashani dragging him out remained fresh, and Jaro could already tell he'd do anything to avoid that kind of agony again. 

“It is safe, I think." Jaro hadn't realised he'd closed his eyes, and opening them, he found Kristian, standing out in the light, a soft smile on his face. 

Jaro smiled back, tail wagging behind him. “Alright then, I trust you." He moved forward, bracing himself to leap back inside, in case he started burning up. When the pain didn't come, he laughed. 

“It is nice to see you laughing," the marten said, coming in close and gently laying his paws on Jaro's arms. Before Jaro could say anything, the doctor leaned in, kissing him gently on the lips. 

He gaped as Kristian pulled back. “You're not… I mean, this doesn't change things?" 

The marten shrugged. “Does it? You are still yourself, aren't you?" 

Feeling guilty, Jaro let the marten's surface-thoughts tumble on inside. A stream of consciousness that couldn't be defined by words, instead a sense of feeling and colour. Everything was bright, easily flowing. There was definitely fear, unease, but not deceit. There was love, warm, surrounding everything. It bolstered Jaro's confidence, a tightness swelling in his still heart.

The two of them began to walk, passing through the half-ruined gates to the compound. 

“How do you feel?" Kristian asked, frowning curiously. 

“Are you asking as a partner," Jaro began. “Or as a researcher?" 

“Would both be such a terrible answer? I wish I had not been so preoccupied with not dying during your conflict with Ashani. There is so much to be learned from you, Jaro. A cooperative vampire? This thing has never existed before!" 

“I'm glad you think I'm so useful." 

The doctor prattled on. “We must begin documenting! How has your perception changed? What is the sensation like of moving with such alacrity, at such speed? What kind of cells permeate your blood? The wings on your back, where did they come from? Is that an automatic response, or is it something you draw upon at will? I did not have a great view during the rain, but I expect it is some kind of vampire magic? Surely, of course, but what is actually happening there, we must discover it! Certainly you don't seem to have grown anything biologically tangible since Zakhar operated, so it must be supernatural. And, furthermore… what did he do to the parasite? Are the urges different, can it exert any influence at all, it is still alive, correct? So much to monitor now…" He stopped himself, inhaling deeply. “But. The empathetic side of me, underdeveloped it might be, wants to ask how you feel?" His brow creased. “Are you alright, Jaro?" 

“I…" Jaro hesitated. How to put it in words? “I feel like Icarus. Flying up to the sun as the wax on my back slowly melts. Everything is falling apart the closer I get, but we can't stop, can we? Any minute I'm gonna drop like a stone, and it's gonna hurt." He stared out over the courtyard. On the far side, three large coaches were lined up, a small team busying themselves packing it full of supplies. “Looks like the plan to chase down Dracula is still going ahead. I can't shake the feeling that something bad is going to happen." 

“Something really bad already happened," Kristian reminded him. “But you stopped it." 

“I'm not alive anymore, Kristian." Jaro stopped where he was, taking the marten's paws in his own. He could feel the blood pumping beneath the surface. He could smell his pelt. “I've given up the person I was. Now everything is different." 

“You might not function biologically the same way that we do," Kristian replied, raising their intertwined paws and meeting Jaro's stare. “But this is still a life. And you can make it your own, with me… if you like." 

“Of course." He paused. “But Kadir?"

“I…" The marten faltered. He released Jaro, turning to look at the wagons. Only then did Jaro realise Kadir was there, standing atop a large crate, yelling at people just like Frankie said. They probably couldn't even understand what he was saying. 

It was the same way Jaro had first seen him. Back in Romania, on Earth, standing on the hood of a truck and screaming at Isla's men. Frankie was right, nothing will stop him from ordering people around. 

“I don't know. He hasn't spoken to me, either," Kristian said softly. “Please, Jaro, I don't want to have to choose between the two of you. This thing we have… it's unusual, I recognise that. But it is something good, uncovered from all the pain we found waiting here for us."

“I'm scared to talk to him," Jaro admitted. “I'm… fuck, I'm actually terrified of Kadir."

Now it was Kristian's turn to laugh. “I think everyone is afraid of him. It's good to know that even though you can probably survive a building being dropped on you, you're still feeling normal." 

Normal. Is that what this is then?

“Better to rip the band-aid off, I guess," Jaro muttered. 

“Would you like me to come along with you?" Kristian asked, his expression conveying that he'd rather anything but. 

“No, thanks, I think I should do it myself." 

“Good luck."

Jaro left the marten by the destroyed fountain, carefully making his way over to the nascent convoy. There were three wagons in all, each one loaded up with crates of what Jaro assumed were food and supplies. It felt like they'd travelled a thousand miles since first arriving at the foot of the Godhead's Lament, and the idea of actually going back to that oppressive castle filled him with unease. He'd barely been able to stop Ashani, what hope could they truly have against Dracula, at home in his own castle? Thousands of thralls, not to mention any other vampire servants he might have waiting. Seems more impossible by the day.

Kadir stood atop a pile of crates, one arm in a sling, pointing at a poor Wallachian man. “You!" He barked, sliding his arm so his point was aimed at the rearmost wagon. “There! You can't fucking understand me, can you? That crate! Put it! There!"

The Orobos local seemed to finally garner some understanding, and nodded, rushing along with his box in paw. Jaro had to actually stop himself from laughing again, it was a ridiculous scene. 

He stopped by the side of Kadir's makeshift dais, staring up at the caracal while he was pointedly ignored. 

“And you!" Kadir cried, jumping down from the crates and rushing to the first wagon. He grabbed one of the men by their shoulder, wheeling them back to the stagecoach. Gesturing furiously at something inside, he tried to talk slowly, as if that would help at all. “Loose items, secured, otherwise it causes damage." 

The man just stared back. 

“The smaller supplies need to be tied down," Jaro said in Wallachian, approaching the two. Kadir bristled slightly, but did not turn back. Relief washed over the labourer, and he agreed, quickly strapping the loose bits into the back compartment of the wagon.

“Are you putting the whole town to work?" Jaro asked Kadir, returning to English. 

The caracal sniffed. “If I could. Zakhar's manservant said they'd do anything to help us complete our goal. The rest of you seem busy, and I can't lift much right now." Kadir turned, ignoring Jaro's stare as he began to walk down the length of the three-wagon convoy. Each wagon was tall and solid, with six large wheels and an empty horse harness resting at the front. There were four seats in each one, and a small compartment in the rear for supplies, all of it covered by a canopy. “I don't want a repeat of us marching through the swamps out here. We'll need to be rested and well fed if we want a hope of taking that castle down."

“Kadir," Jaro paused. “Are you doing alright?" 

“They seem strong enough." The caracal kicked one of the wheels. “But there might be snow on the journey, so we'll have to be a bit touch and go. Apparently Zakhar's path will take us through the mountain, into old mines that were carved out when Dracula first built the place. They're supposed to be empty, but I'm not holding my breath." 

“Kadir…"

“My arm is only sprained. I can feel it, it'll be alright in a few days, maybe a week. The journey back to the keep shouldn't take much less than that. I'll be in fighting shape, I won't be–"

“Kadir, stop!" Jaro cried, stepping around the man. “Fuck, I've never heard you say so many damn words in one go before. You're ignoring the problem." 

The caracal only grunted, glancing away. Jaro reached out to him, his fingers brushing against Kadir's good arm. “This was the only way, I swear." 

“I know," he replied eventually. “I saw what happened in the square. Whatever Zakhar did to you… we wouldn't have won without it." 

A pause passed between them, like a ship sailing between two rocks. That's us, right now. Ships in the night. 

“But?" Jaro prompted. 

“You're a vampire now, Jaro," Kadir said. His eyes shot upwards, towards the sky. “It's easy to forget in the daylight, but the moment this weather clears you'll be back in the dark. Forever. I mean, damn, your eyes." He shook his head. Jaro licked his teeth, tongue tracing over the new fangs. I don't know what they look like, my brain doesn't recognise my own face. “Zakhar claimed he could decouple you from the parasite influence, but lemme ask you this – it's never been done before. How do we know you're not a killer in there? That you won't become one soon?" 

Jaro's heart broke, sinking in his chest. He could feel where this was going. It was the same way things had felt with Boz, in the end. “I don't feel that different, emotionally, I mean." 

“Nobody thinks the parasite is influencing them, would you be able to tell if it was?" 

“I…" He didn't have an answer for that.

Leaving the convoy behind, Kadir led them to a small pile of rubble, taking a seat on one of the crumbled rocks. “I told you… what happened. My husband. I had to kill him with my own paws, Jaro, do you know what that's like? He thought he'd be alright too, and he was… until he wasn't." 

“This isn't like that."

“So then I murdered him for nothing?" Kadir glanced up, and Jaro was shocked to see tears welling in the caracal's eyes.

“N-no…" Jaro softened, sitting next to him. His paw found the caracal's knee, squeezing gently. “Kadir… things don't work that way, and you know it." 

“No, no." Kadir shook his head. “There was a way forward, but I took the easy way out instead. I failed him. Could have locked him out, found a way to fix things. Instead he's gone, and I'm not."

“The only reason I exist is because of whatever fucked up dark ritual shit Zakhar was doing. And besides… when things like this happen… they aren't our fault. You aren't to blame just because you survived it. Terrible things in life happen and there's nothing we can do about it, nothing except make the best choice we can at the time." 

“He never wanted to become a monster," Kadir said softly. “I don't want to hate you, Jaro. But a part of me wants this treatment to fail." He laughed, putting his good paw to his face. “You can tell me, how fucked up is that?" 

“It's not," Jaro said. “I understand." He nudged himself a little closer to the caracal, one arm reaching around the small of his back and holding him. This wasn't how Jaro had expected the conversation to go. In fact, ever since he first met Kadir, he couldn't imagine the caracal ever needing somebody else to comfort him. He seems so strong, Jaro thought, studying his features. Like a brick wall. But I guess even the strongest of us break down sometimes. Boz did. I did. What had changed? A week ago Jaro had blamed himself for every problem in the world.

“Everyone needs good people around them, to help build them back up," he said gently. It sounded like the words of another person. “Kadir. I took so much blame onto myself, but we need to be set free of that." He reached over, putting his other paw on the caracal's chest and holding him firmly in place. He tried to pull away but Jaro held him still.

“The fuck are you doing, Jaro?" 

“I'm setting you free. You needed me to be strong, and I could, because of you two. All of that hurt you feel, all of the pain you think you deserve? We've all made choices that turned out to be poor, but the truth is we all do the best we can, and that is enough. So I'm setting you free from all the hurt you've been through. I'm setting myself free of all the guilt I thought I deserved. We don't deserve it, and good karma will keep us with God. I love you for you, and if you can do that too we can be free of everything keeping us back."

The two sat in silence, allowing the moment to pass. Eventually Jaro pulled back into place, waiting for Kadir to speak. 

The caracal inhaled slowly, shoulders rising and falling. Jaro heard the caracal's heart thundering in his chest, he could even hear Kadir's blood pumping through his veins. His thoughts were quiet, muted.

“Thank you," Kadir said finally, his voice very small. “No one has ever said anything like that to me." He stood, sighing as he gazed out across the destroyed square. “Love me for me," he whispered.

“What are you thinking?" 

The caracal turned back, almost smiling. “I'm thinking enough wallowing. It's time to go back to the Source, and finally put that motherfucker in the ground."