Eight
To Thomas’s quiet appreciation, Elon had never actually left the night before. She stayed over, though it might have been accidental, given that she had dozed off on Thomas’s couch while they gossiped late into the night. Thomas hadn’t minded; he only covered her with a blanket and retreated to his room to catch up on rest. It was an assuring comfort to know that Elon was in the next room over.
​
The following morning, Elon was somewhat frantic when she realized that she hadn’t gone home. Thomas scolded her for working too hard, but eventually saw her out. She was vocally thankful, for his company and for so much more, before sneaking out of the door and scampering out of sight.
​
When a knock came at the door, Thomas had almost expected it. Elon, being perpetually forgetful, would often return after realizing she had left behind some important object. Snickering as he undid the locks, Thomas opened the door with a smug expression on his face. Maybe this time it was her keys, her wallet, maybe her phone--
​
Instead of Elon at the door, Thomas was greeted by a black, gloved hand. Only after it shot out and gripped him tightly did he see its owner; the looming, silent figure that had been hunting him for months now. Up close, he realized how tall the stalker really was, especially with the rabbit ears jutting into the sky like ancient, untrimmed trees.
​
Thomas screamed, because it was all he could do. As if he weighed nothing at all, the figure lifted him and threw him backwards, sending him crashing further down the hallway. Then, ducking under the doorframe, it walked into the apartment-- into his apartment. It was as if the runes and protective faerie magic meant nothing, but that would suggest his unwanted guest was entirely human, and that couldn't be right.
​
In a panic, Thomas balled up where he sat on the floor, hugging his knees close to him and squeezing his eyes shut. His skin tingled as he cast an illusion, throwing a cloak of invisibility around him to hide from the intruder. The rabbit mask hesitated, then turned to the side, allowing Thomas to release a sigh. He felt safe-- or at least, safer-- knowing that he was unseen.
​
Or, perhaps the safety was unfounded. After plucking the iron knife that was still stuck brutally to the door, the masked figure returned. In fact, it stared straight at him. Thomas was motionless in disbelief until the stalker began to creep towards him, making it abundantly clear that the illusion was having no effect whatsoever.
​
Scrambling to his feet, Thomas nearly tripped as he leapt away from the iron knife that the intruder had swiped at him. He dove under a small coffee table for safety, but it was harshly kicked away with a loud bang as the rabbit towered over him. The wide, dark eyes of the mask swallowed him, chilling him to the bone as he stared helplessly. With a cry, he shielded his body with his arms.
​
Metal against metal preceded a clank. A strange clattering sound on the floor drove Thomas to open his frightened eyes and look up. With the knife missing from the intruder’s hand, and his back now turned to the faerie, Thomas saw the blur of blonde hair at the door of his apartment. Elon, who had apparently stayed close by, was standing at the threshold, bow poised as she loaded another arrow.
​
Slowly, the figure raised its gloved hands and lowered itself. Elon watched carefully, the hint of a question twitching on her face, but Thomas knew better and shouted a warning at her. The startling sound caused her to let another arrow fly at the rabbit’s direction, but with expert timing, the figure had already flung itself sideways, its cloak flowing in the air with the movement and shrouding its body. It obscured her shot. Instead of finding skin, the arrow sank into the thick fur of the cloak, piercing through to the other side.
​
Elon was fast as she readied another arrow, but the stalker was faster. It crouched, then lunged towards her, roughly shouldering her as she fell sideways to the ground. She caught herself, weapon still in hand, but it was enough of a distraction for the figure to disappear out of the open door. She cursed and threw the bow down before rushing over to check on Thomas.
​
Still panting, Thomas found his voice. “W-what the hell was that thing?”
​
Elon shook her head and frowned. “It definitely wasn’t a vampire; that’s for sure,” she said. “It didn’t seem to be a demon, either.”
​
Her eyes were fixed on the ground. She was never this still, and it unnerved Thomas greatly. He leaned towards her.
​
“What is it?” he asked.
​
After some hesitation, Elon recounted her experience in the woods with Jonathan and Isaac. Upon describing the colorless plant-life they found, Thomas felt the blood drain from his face. Dizzy, he sat down and leaned against the wall to steady himself. Elon mistook his reasoning for the action and sat down beside him.
​
“It’s probably not related, but…” Elon was scanning the walls thoughtfully, as if the answers to their dilemma were hidden around them. “If it’s not demonic, and it’s certainly dark, it might be connected to whatever was going on in the woods.”
​
The image Elon had described never left Thomas’s mind. It was as though he already knew exactly what the scene looked like without ever having seen it. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, a seedling of some darker truth threatened him. He blocked it out, focusing only on Elon’s words.
​
“He said the information came from Iris,” she said. Thomas perked up. “That name sounded familiar to me-- She’s Ifrit’s sister, right?”
​
“Oh, yeah!” He nodded and started to stand. “I can get in touch with her.”
​
​
​
Within no time, Thomas was heading out to the woods with Elon leading the way. Being her usual bubbly self, Elon was skipping through the trees as she recounted her fight with the demonic deer. Thomas tried to pay attention as best he could as he trailed behind, but he was too fixated on concealing his own dread from her.
​
Eventually, they spotted the familiar forms of Iris and Ifrit, both looking grave as they stared at an unseen spot beyond the shrubbery. Thomas felt his legs wobble, but Elon was pulling him after her. As they drew closer, Thomas noticed the white, blank eyes in Ifrit’s face and realized that it was, in actuality, Solomon controlling the body. He had heard of the spirit, but had only seen it in brief, short bursts.
​
The two gathered around Iris and Sol, crossing into the clearing. The blight was so horrifying to Thomas that his breath hitched as he stared at the twisted, colorless plants. The dread, as well as a distant memory he failed to repress, tickled the edges of his mind, and he felt sick to his stomach. Thankfully, nobody seemed to be looking at him or waiting for him to speak.
​
“I tried asking Viv about the spot, but she couldn’t get a word out,” Iris explained. Her usual smile was gone, replaced with dark contemplation. “She starts to sob anytime she gets near it.”
​
“She’s a banshee!” Sol exclaimed, swaying where they stood. “They’re very emotional.”
​
Elon chewed her lower lip. “Isaac said the space didn’t react to celestial vibrations, so it can’t be infernal by nature.”
​
The spirit sighed. “Infernals get a bad rep. This stuff is gross and weird, even by our standard.” Their white eyes narrowed at Thomas. “It’s totally fey shenanigans.”
​
Defensive, the faerie shook his head. “There’s no way,” he protested. “I’ve never seen something like this before.”
​
Startling all three of them, Sol laughed. “Thomas! Are you lying or just stupid?”
​
Blinking blankly at the question, Thomas pursed his mouth, but had no answers. Fortunately, Sol had closed their eyes and drooped their head, switching consciousness with Ifrit. Suddenly present, the witch pressed his head into his hand and shivered. He regained composure quickly, though he had the familiar weary look in his eyes.
​
“Sol isn’t usually wrong about this kind of thing,” he told them. “But honestly, I think there’s something they’re not telling us, and I’ll let you know whenever I figure it out.”
​
Still uneasy about being called out, Thomas scrunched up his face. “How do you know Sol’s telling the truth?” he asked.
​
“Lying would ruin the ‘game.’” It was Iris who chimed in. “They want us to figure it out ourselves.”
​
“Well could you hurry up, then?” bemoaned Thomas. “If that rabbit thing is related, it’s trying to kill me!”
​
Ifrit smirked at him. “Thanks for the pep talk, faerie.”
​
“If I do die, I’m haunting you for sure,” Thomas threatened, pointing an accusatory finger at the witch. “You’ll never be able to get rid of me.”
​
His smirk vanished. “I’ll admit, that’s a diabolical threat right there,” Ifrit said. “I’ll see what I can do.”
​
​
--
​
​
When Isaac returned home for the day, he was met by Jonathan at the door informing him about a newly reported demon. They had left shortly after to meet their new informant, and Isaac was silently thankful for the new threat. Ever since his humiliating encounter with Kit, Isaac had been hiding from his friends. Needless to say, he was more than eager for a cathartic release.
​
When they finally reached the chapel, Jonathan led the way. This was common for them, and Isaac was grateful since he wasn’t the most sociable or charming. Jonathan had a warmth that strangers gravitated towards; a warmth that Isaac felt he could never emulate himself.
​
They entered the familiar building to see a woman and her small child -- no older than five, Isaac guessed -- standing at the altar. The woman looked up towards them when they entered, giving a meek smile towards Jonathan, who, strangely enough, tensed up. Isaac glanced at him sideways with a quizzical expression. He met his gaze, his jaw set.
​
“Wait here for a second,” Jonathan said quietly, yet somewhat more sternly than normal.
​
“Okay,” murmured Isaac as he took a seat in one of the nearby pews.
​
From there, he watched Jonathan stroll towards the woman and heard them greet each other kindly. He couldn’t quite make out what they were talking about, but saw them both briefly regard the small child. He was anxiously clinging to whom Isaac now assumed to be his mother, somewhat hiding behind her with his face shrouded in shadows. Isaac stifled a yawn and leaned forward to rest his arms and chin on the back of the pews in front of him.
​
That’s when the child looked at him.
​
Isaac stared back, holding his breath. Even from where he sat, it was clear to see the cat-like pupils in the child’s eyes. Urgently, Isaac stood up and headed towards the altar himself, fiery eyes fixed on the small boy.
​
“It’s the kid,” he proclaimed. Jonathan and the woman both gawked at him, wide eyed, as he closed the distance between them. “He’s a demon!”
​
To Isaac’s surprise, Jonathan stepped in front of him, blocking his path towards the woman and her child. He looked wary.
​
“He’s just a child!” Jonathan explained, gesturing to where the small boy now cowered behind his mother. “He hasn’t done anything wrong.”
​
“I’m not going to give him the chance,” muttered Isaac, moving to push him aside.
​
The next moment, Isaac felt a flash of pain, and before he knew what had happened, he was falling backwards onto the floor. His hand found his cheek tenderly as he looked up, dazed and confused, to see Jonathan standing above him, fists clenched.
​
“Did you just--” Isaac stammered.
​
Jonathan glanced back towards the family and muttered something about them leaving, and to remember his advice. She thanked him and the two hurried off. Isaac watched in awe before propping himself up from the floor.
​
“Why did you let it get away?” Isaac demanded, though his voice sounded smaller than he was used to.
​
“What’s wrong with you?” barked back Jonathan. “He’s just a child! You were really about to kill an innocent child?
​
“He’s a demon--”
​
“Half-demon,” Jonathan corrected. “And he was entirely capable of free will.”
​
“Oh, come on!” shouted Isaac, feeling himself getting heated. “We kill those things every day, and suddenly you’re sentimental about one that looks like a shy kid?” He shook his head. “What happens when it gets bigger and causes some real problems?”
​
Jonathan was still standing over him as he scowled. There was clear disappointment in his eyes.
​
“That woman was tricked by an incubus. Do you understand what I’m saying?” he asked, looking down at Isaac. He spoke slowly, emphasizing the words. “And yet, she loves that child more than anything. If she has hope for demons after an encounter like that, I’m not going to question her.”
​
All Isaac could do was leer up at Jonathan, utterly speechless. He had never been scolded with such intensity before.
“The world isn’t black and white, Isaac. If we run into him down the line then we will deal with him then and there.” A foreign bitterness entered Jonathan’s face as he spoke. “But don’t assume his blood has anything to do with how he’ll turn out. If rotten angels can exist, I’m sure pleasant demons can, too.”
​
With that, Jonathan turned to leave, Isaac staring at him in disbelief as his face began to redden.
​
​
​
The noisiness of Isaac’s mind kept him sitting alone in the chapel for longer than he anticipated. Whenever he thought about leaving, he pictured Jonathan's disappointed face greeting him when he got home, and promptly lost all motivation to do so. It was only when he saw the sun beginning to set that he realized he needed to move.
​
Once outside, he knew exactly where to go, but still felt disoriented, hesitating in front of the door. Though his sore face demanded more of his attention, Isaac was still acutely aware of the hairs on his neck standing up. He felt uneasy and knew he was being watched. Turning his head, he saw the expected form of Eden coming into view as she walked down the sidewalk towards him, a puzzled expression on her face and a parasol warding off the setting sun.
​
“Eden?” he called to her when she was within earshot. “Were you following me again?”
​
The vampire was immediately defensive, raising her palms at him. “What? No! This is pure happenstance, I swear.”
​
“You just happened to be walking by a church?” Isaac snorted. “That seems unlikely.”
​
“I was--” She blinked. “Wait, what happened to your face?”
​
Deciding that it was a good time to start heading home, Isaac shoved his hands in his pockets and turned his bruised face away from her. “Nothing,” he said, and began walking in the opposite direction.
​
Eden trailed alongside him. “Are you here by yourself?” she asked, looking around. “Furthermore, who gets punched in a church?”
​
Isaac raised a suspicious eyebrow at her. “Are you interrogating me? This doesn’t concern you, Eden.”
​
“Okay, very well then, don’t tell me what happened. But, I am still going to hang around you until you lighten up a bit.” She yawned. “You’ve been sulking so much lately.”
​
“What makes you think that your presence will cheer me up?” he grumbled.
​
Eden smiled at him. “Because if I’m around, you can make snarky remarks and not feel bad about it,” she said. “It’s fun banter, right?”
​
After a quiet pause, Isaac sighed, feeling a strange smile form on his face. “...Okay, you have a point.”
​
She nodded. “I always do.”
​
​
​
When the door shut, Isaac finally released the breath he had been holding. He turned to face his bedroom. Eden, like a shadow, never left his side. This time, however, he was the one who had invited her in. Such a gesture had greatly pleased her, and she hadn’t stopped grinning to herself since entering his house.
​
“This is amusing,” she said, her green eyes twinkling deviously. “I never would have guessed you were such a romantic.”
​
Isaac groaned, shook his head, and walked towards his bed.
​
“Please, Eden. Don’t make this weird.”
​
She followed him, as usual. “I know, I’m just giving you a hard time.” Her voice sounded strangely sincere. “I’ll behave. I just wanted to be near you.”
​
Feeling incredibly conflicted, Isaac sat down on his bed, his hands pressing against the mattress. For whatever reason, he found it hard to look at her.
​
“You are strangely comforting at times,” he admitted, albeit quietly.
​
Eden sat beside him, pressing her body against his. When he still didn’t look at her, she placed a gentle hand on his jawline and tilted his head towards her. Upon meeting her alluring eyes, his heart started to pound-- but this time it didn’t feel like fear.
​
For a moment, Isaac was reminded of when he was a freshman in high school, desperately crushing on the new girl. Eve-- but now that name felt divorced from her, like it was the name of some distant, ideal version of Eden rather than the vampire she truly was.
​
Her face moved closer to his, and he closed his eyes when she kissed him. It was strange; cold lips felt more natural to him these days. Her skin grounded him. When she bit his lip, he didn’t flinch, and he didn’t mind. At least he was able to make someone happy.
​
​
​
The following morning, Isaac felt strangely well-rested as he made his way down the stairs. Despite his early awakening, Jonathan had still beat him, and was already settled at the kitchen table surrounded by paperwork. He chewed his pen and looked up when he heard Isaac approaching, but for once, his expression was unreadable.
​
“Isaac,” he began. “I hope you know I’m--”
​
“Let me guess, ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’?”
​
With the hint of a smile, Jonathan blinked at him and set the pen down. “Well, yeah.”
​
“You have a right to be.” Isaac sighed and sat down across from his brother. “I’m sorry. I just haven’t been thinking straight lately.”
​
“I’ve noticed.” Jonathan was watching him carefully. “I guess I haven’t been in the best mood, either.”
​
“Because of me?” he offered.
​
“No, not because of you,” Jonathan responded, rolling his eyes. Then he thought about it. “Well, technically, but it’s more of a me issue.”
​
Isaac frowned. “That’s not comforting.”
​
His brother stared at him. “I’m not trying to comfort you,” he said flatly.
​
A tense silence hung between them as Isaac mulled over the notion. Jonathan had dropped his eyes back to his paperwork as if nothing had transpired. After a slow breath in, Isaac continued their conversation.
​
“Can you tell me how I can be better?” he asked in a small voice.
​
“No, I can’t.” It was an honest response.
​
Jonathan hadn’t looked up when he spoke, but that changed when he heard another set of footsteps on the stairs. Pale, Isaac looked too, and they both watched as Eden descended the staircase. She was wearing one of Isaac’s shirts, which was incredibly oversized as it covered her small frame. An overwhelming urge to retreat within himself made Isaac blush furiously. His eyes darted between her and his brother, waiting for someone to speak.
​
“Isaac,” Jonathan said, slowly, turning towards his younger brother. “What’s Eden doing here…?”
​
Finding it difficult to breathe, let alone speak, Isaac was dumbfounded. When his silence appeared to only frustrate Jonathan further, he forced out any words that would come.
​
“She-- we, uh--”
​
The words were not impressive.
​
“Should I have left through the window or something?” Eden asked.
​
Defeated, and beyond embarrassed, Isaac buried his burning face in his hands and nodded. Eden, who could sense the tension from a mile away, offered an apologetic smile to Jonathan before scurrying out of the door. Jonathan’s eyes bored into Isaac, and he felt them without seeing them. Paper rustled as Jonathan gathered up his work and walked off.
​
“You’re ridiculous,” he said. “I’ll see you later.”
​
A door opened and shut, signifying to Isaac that he was alone again. Overwhelmed, he tightly pressed his palms into his eyes and swore loudly.