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What makes a monster a monster? Is it the blood they shed, that clings under their fingernails no matter how long they scrub at their hands? Is it the death and decay that they leave in their wake? Apo clenches her fists at her side, stubborn jaw set as she meets Scott's steady gaze with one of her own. How do you know when you cross the line if it's washed away in the sand by the tide? Time wears down all rivers, and water erodes all morals. Sometimes desperation supersedes ethics, sometimes your own survival comes at the cost of another's. Does that make you a monster?
"You know, I'm getting fairly sick of how you and Cleo always have one foot out of the door." Scott complains. It's a high pitched whine that seems all fitting for a nobleman. He sits at the edge of the long dining hall table. It could seat so many — too many. Apo's certain that the table has more place settings than both townsfolk and coven combined. Scott is used to extravagance, and his royal highness always gets what he wants.
She brings her hand up to her bite mark. He always gets his way. Apo glances at the others briefly, looking toward the door as though she's going to run. Oakhurst needs answers, and they're not going to get that from standing around the village and twiddling their thumbs. Answers are only going to come if they seek them out, so here Apo is presenting her neck to a predator and expecting them not to snap it.
"They chased me out…" Apo lies, though it falls easy from her lips. It's easy to tell people what they want to hear. It's easier when it's so close to the truth. If not for the doctor… Apo chases the thought from her mind. Now is not the time to dwell on things such as that.
Owen snorts, and Pyro shakes his head. "Saints!" Owen slams his hands against the table. "It's not like we warned you that was going to happen or anything!"
Apo bows her head, at last following the instincts that tell her to submit to the older vampires — appeasement. It's too easy to fall into those, they're like a safety net. "I should have listened, I'm sorry." She bites her lower lip, snagging her long fangs against the delicate flesh.
"You're always welcome here," Shelby offers with a small smile, holding out her hand for Apo. Apo stares at it; She can't help but think of how easily these four could stab her in the back — tear apart her chest and pull out the truth, a gnarled and knotted thing twisting in the pit of her stomach. Apo takes it and Shelby rubs small circles into the back of Apo's hand.
Scott waves away emotions and declarations, and Apo knows that he's the one that she needs to be on the look out for. She's not stupid, she's been in the military. She understands hierarchies. Scott is at the top and everyone else is below him.
It's not hard to put everyone in little boxes. Though maybe those boxes don't always fit neatly, it's how her mind has been trained. It's efficient, and for the most part effective. Scott's word is law. He's like the general, leading the helm. He gets what he wants when he wants it, like the noble that he probably was in his human life. Owen is erratic. He's powerful, but he doesn't have the same level of cool calculation that Scott does — he's inexperienced. Pyro is hot and cold, but he's a dog on a leash. One word from his master and he's coming to heel at Scott's boot. Shelby is the one who's the most stable. She holds onto her humanity with a tight grip, she maintains empathy.
"Yes, yes," Scott takes a deep breath. The blood in his wine glass spills onto the red carpet and it takes everything in Apo to remain present at the smell. She swallows back thick saliva, choking back the memories that want to break out of where she locked them up deep in her brain. "That's all well and fine. But when you're in my castle, you're here. You're not with the humans, do you understand?"
Owen clears his throat, "Our castle," he corrects.
"Em, yes," Scott glances back at Owen. "Our castle."
Apo doesn't miss it. The power struggle — a chink in their impervious armor. Not to mention that half the time Pyro wants to be human. The vampires are crumbling. Just a bit more time, and a bit more information. They just need to find that last holy tome and kill Scott. She needs to figure out how to kill Scott, and if she wants to do that then maybe it's not impossible to get Owen to do it.
She takes a shallow breath, it’s weird to her that she can breathe but it’s all for show. This whole verbal dance between her and Scott is all for show. "I understand." When Scott raises his eyebrow, Apo knows what he wants from her. She licks her teeth. "I understand, sire." She spits out the word like it's poison on her tongue. The worst part is that she doesn't hate how it sounds from her mouth. It feels right — it's instinctive.
Trust Apo when she says that she's holding on to her humanity with a vice grip. She will not allow herself to take the easy way out, she will not let herself fall into the depths of depravity that Pyro has. She will not let herself be swayed by Scott's smooth words and his silver tongue. She will not be frightened by Owen's anger and his quick fist. She will remain strong, she will remain fast. She is here for a reason.
Scott leans his head back so that he's staring at Owen upside down. Owen stares at Scott. If you become a high enough level vampire do you get telepathy? It kinda feels like they're having a whole conversation and Apo just can't hear them. Shelby rolls her eyes, smiling at Apo. "They do this sometimes," she whispers. "I don't get it." Scrap the telepathy idea. They're just weird.
"Okay, Shelby will show you to your room." Scott says after a while. He smiles, taking a sip of his wine glass. "Welcome to the family, Apo."
"My what?"
Shelby is giddy, gripping onto Apo's hand and practically dragging her down the way. Pyro is close behind with Owen and Scott trailing behind that. "We made everyone a room!" She says with a big smile. "It was my idea… mostly. Pyro helped and Owen got most of the supplies…" She looks back at Scott. "And Scott-"
"I supervised!" Scott adds unhelpfully behind them.
They actually leave the castle. Apo almost trips over her feet, not used to moving as fast as Shelby is. She's not even out of breath — oh right. Apo presses her lips together, that's because they don't have to breathe. They head to the crypts. To be fair, it's not like all of the crypts connect, the ones by the castle are their own thing. And that's because nobles are horrible, awful people who make the common people do horrible, awful things.
Shelby jumps off of the stairs, landing on light feet. "How did you—" She's screaming as her feet leave the ledge of the spiral staircase. Shelby catches her, and when she looks up Pyro is sticking out his tongue at her from where she had been standing. The bastard pushed her!
Scott grabs Pyro's face between his thumb and pointer. "We don't want to scare off Apo when she's just got here, so be nice." The voice carries, and even Apo can hear the cool ice. It sends a shiver down her spine, and she can only imagine what it must feel like for Pyro who's having to deal with the chilling gaze.
Pyro must mutter a quick sorry because the three of them descend the stairs like normal people. Shelby huffs out a laugh. "Sorry, they can be a lot. I promise they're not bad… most of the time?"
"Owen threatened to kill me. Multiple times."
"He has anger issues?"
"Don't apologize for me," Owen says as he, Scott, and Pyro reach the bottom. Everything echoes in the cold stone labyrinth. "I'm not sorry. And I don't have anger issues." Shelby and Apo exchange a glance and both laugh — at Owen's expense.
It's not… altogether unpleasant. Scott snaps his fingers and the lanterns ignite like a row of dominoes falling bringing light to the darkness. Which is weird considering that they don't need light to see. They have dark vision which works a lot better than whatever this is.
The damp sounds of water dripping from the ceiling, the cold stale air — "No secrets right?" She sighs, deep and heavy. It doesn't matter what her relationship is with Martyn anymore. It doesn't matter how they feel about her. Half of Oakhurst is made of vampires anyways — and why Avid's pretending to be human is anyone's guess. The point is that she's in the lion's den. She made this choice and she has to live with it.
Shelby drags her down a bit longer, throwing open decadent double doors. Inside was… perfect? It's hard to describe. It's obvious that Owen's paranoia with fire has managed to seep into their design choices because the walls are made of complicated chiseled marble and the floors while covered in fluffy and lush rugs are made of deepslate. Apo chews on the inside of her cheek, eyes fixated on the glittering gold chandelier that's hanging from faux rafters. Her eyes drift over to a fucking coffin??? That feels really cliched. Shelby follows Apo's gaze to the coffin and pushes it under what looks like a really comfortable bed. With a thick down comforter and more than her fair share of pillows.
"You don't have to use a coffin, they're just—"
"Traditional," Scott finishes for Shelby with a scoff. "I really don't understand why you're all opposed to them?"
Pyro sits down on the edge of Apo's bed. "We were human like three days ago, give us a millennia and we'll probably prefer the coffin too."
A millennia. Apo tries not to stiffen, to let her hatred bubble out of her chest. Forever… is a really long time. If she has it her way forever will never come. She wants to grow old with her love in a cabin far away from any conflict or capital. She wants a family. She wants to live. She'll do anything and Kill any vampire that stands in her way. This was her choice, her mistake to fix. Does that make her a monster? The want and drive and the apathy? Scott's lived a good life, but it's time to cut him off.
"Careful," Owen says with a smug smile. It's this really annoying smile where one corner of his mouth gets tugged a little higher than the other. "I think Apo's going to pop a blood vessel. You're living in the castle but still haven't accepted this gift. Makes one wonder why you're really here." Owen sticks his hands in his pockets.
The thing about vampirism is that it makes everything more. You don't change but it's like your Soul becomes an empty echo chamber. Your thoughts borne, they circle around and with every bounce that thought is doubled. And Apo? She might be becoming a monster. She lunges at Owen, it's been a building conflict for awhile. Owen is a fully realized 200 year old vampire. Apo is not winning this fight.
Owen side steps out of the way, grabbing Apo by the back of her capelet and holding her up off the ground. "Don't pick fights you can't win," he hisses in her ear.
Apo hangs in the air. Scott clicks his tongue and it's like a switch is flipped in the room — in her brain. A chorus of sorry, sorry, sorry, plays in the back of her head despite the way that she's not sorry. She doesn't care. She wants Owen's throat. Scott clicks again and Apo huffs out an annoyed breath. Another click and she can see Shelby and Pyro wince. She wonders briefly if they can feel the same venom in the air, the same curling control exuded from that single sound. The longer Apo goes without obeying that unspoken, but communicated, demand the worse it becomes.
Scott walks over and tilts Apo's head this way and that as though getting a good look at her for the first time. "Let her go, Owen," Scott says.
"If I do I fear she's going to bite me like a rabid dog." Owen shakes Apo like a key chain, back and forth. Apo just hangs there, unable to truly do anything to help her situation. She can thrash, but that only gives Owen the satisfaction of being right. She can't turn into a bat, she's too weak from the last time she did that. "You also don't get to tell me what to do."
The power struggle.
"She's a level 2," Scott says by way of explanation. Apo clenches her teeth as Owen lets her go, as though being more than a basic vampire has earned her respect. "When did that happen." The silver repelling from her body, the hunger that grew only deeper. The fear on Martyn's face as he watched — as she spoke, as the truth became too apparent to ignore. Scott didn't ask a question, so Apo didn't answer. There was no reason to, they can see it — the red eyes to compliment red hair. And the hunger… The hunger’s become so much worse.
Shelby leans against one of the posters of the bed, and Apo can't help but notice the nods to some of her favorite architectural styles. Chiseled pillars from the ceiling to the floor in classic Greek display, the wood like paneling of Tudor, and the intricate carvings that resemble gothic. They paid attention… they listened. Something weird and gross and slimy warms up in the pit of her stomach.
"I still want you to apologize, Apo," Scott says.
"And what if I don't?"
Shelby's hand on her shoulder. "Please, Apo." She asks.
Apo licks her teeth, bowing her head and refusing to make eye contact. "I'm sorry, Owen." They both know it'll happen again. She hasn't forgiven Owen for threatening her life, nor has she forgotten that she's only in this mess because of him. He'll die, she'll live, and then it can be happily ever after.
_______
The rapping of knuckles against her door wakes her up. She has never slept better. On the soft down mattress, under smooth silk sheets. With crusted eyes she shouts a quick come in, pointedly not getting out of bed. Honestly, she doesn't know if she wants to. This is how the nobles rest and she's going to miss it when she leaves. She slept like the dead. And then she remembers she doesn't have a heartbeat. She is dead.
Shelby laughs under her breath. "It's nice, isn't it?" The bed dips as she sits at the edge of the mattress.
"Mhmmm," Apo sits up, wiping the sleep from her eyes. "Saints, how long was I out?" There's a small voice in the back of her head that provides her a clock. That's handy. "Days???" She straightens up, throwing the blankets off of herself. "No, no no no." She runs a hand through her hair. "I've been asleep for days?"
"It happens between phases. You're a level 2 vampire now, Apo. That takes a lot of energy out of you." Shelby is nothing if not patient, more patient than Apo maybe deserves.
Apo has been nothing but mean to the coven, and here they are extending their home, and rooms, and the finest luxuries. Shelby waits as Apo lets the panic seize their brain — it's all psychosomatic. It's like she can't breathe, like there's not enough oxygen getting her lungs and making her dizzy. That isn't actually happening though because she doesn't need to breathe. She leans against one of the four posters of her bed and Shelby sits there, waiting with her hands laid gently in her lap.
Taking a deep breath, Apo steadies her swirling vision. "Sorry," she mutters.
"No, I get it," Shelby offers a small smile. "It still happens to me too. Humanity doesn't go away in a night. I still feel it. Scott thinks I'm stupid for holding on, but it's the last thing I have of my dad…" She shakes her head, clapping her hands together. "That's besides the point."
It really doesn't feel like it is, but what does Apo know? She's new here. She also knows when to stop talking about a certain subject, and it's very clear from the way that Shelby clutches her skirt fabric in her fists that this is delicate and sore — not something to pry open with the crowbar of subtlety that Apo possesses. So Apo clears her throat, "There's a point?"
Shelby blinks, bringing her distant gaze back into focus. "Yes… yes! Owen asked me to take you through the crypts."
"To kill me… or…" Apo hugs herself. "Sorry but I don't trust Owen." She'd sooner kill him then follow his advice for anything. He's the reason she's like this, the reason she turned into a vampire and became a monster. There's blood on her hands and she's scrubbing, scrubbing, scrubbing and the blood won't leave. She can smell it, copper metal tang mixing with mud and dirt and—
"No!" Shelby pries Apo's claws from where they dig into her own skin. She holds both of Apo's hands in both of her own. "Your dress? Um… Owen ripped it the other night and he wanted me to help you find something new from Scott's old stuff."
Pulling her hands free she checks where Owen had grabbed onto her dress, and… yep. Long tears that will only get longer in the long run. Guilt twists in her stomach, a violent wave of nausea from ruining a gift. Cherri had made her this dress before she had gone off to military service. Rationalize things, she reminds herself. Step by step she thinks through it. She'd probably eventually be forced into similar dress as the rest of the coven, this is just expedited.
Apo closes her eyes, "shoot," she whispers. It's her only moment of mourning that she allows herself. One step after the other, she has to keep moving forward. "Yeah, okay. Take me there, then, I guess?"
There's no point in mirrors when you cannot see your own reflection. Apo and Shelby spend what probably amounts to hours combing through old and dusty trunks of clothes poorly packed away. Though she supposes that Scott didn't have a lot of time to properly hang and put away the delicate fabrics before he was forced into a centuries long slumber. They eventually settle on something more simple, yet with the same florid flair that Apo has come to expect from the coven.
She wishes she could see her appearance as she smooths the ruffles down against her skin. But what point is there when she's been frozen in time. But this? This is different, maybe forever frozen in time but also forever changing and evolving. As she spins around to face Shelby she can't help but take notice of the heavy melancholy hanging in the air around them.
They're in a small little crevice, near forgotten even by the tunnels of the crypts that they wander through. The room was clearly intended to be ignored, but this is where both Shelby and Pyro found their more souped up outfits. Owen apparently found his somewhere deeper, said he wouldn't share. Apo has a feeling there's a story there that will take awhile before he shares it. If he ever does.
The dress itself possesses some of the most complicated golden embroidery that Apo's ever seen. It doesn't feel right to wear something that would have cost a fortune, maybe a few small fortunes. She'd never have been able to afford it in her own life. The fabric is soft and comfortable, and the dress ends right above her knees. It fits her perfectly, as though it was made for her and her alone. She very well couldn't imagine seeing Scott in it, but perhaps she just lacks creativity. It should be wrong. But at the same time it's like it's always been hers — like she's always belonged.
Apo twirls, the layers of skirt and chiffon billowing around her. Shelby brings both of her hands to her mouth as she gasps. "How do I look?" Apo asks, a shy question as the clothes feel too big for her sunken skin. She grabs her old dress and pulls it to her chest. She knows the basics of mending, it'd be stupid not to, so she'll find a way to repair the gift that Owen so woefully ruined.
Shelby smiles. "It's perfect." It's a sad smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes. She lets out a long, nearly exasperated sigh. "Y'know I think it'll be really nice to have another girl around. I love Pyro to death but he has this weird thing with Scott —" Her voice catches and her rambling ceases. Neither of them want to be here, staring at each other like this.
This isn't how it was supposed to happen.
The world has a weird way of still spinning even through the most horrid of events. People die. Society keeps moving.
"Do you even—" Apo searches for the right words to say, not sure if she'll find them. "Do you like being here? Would you want to be human again — cured?" Shelby hisses, presses a hand against Apo's mouth. She stands there, narrowing her eyes.
It's a few minutes before Shelby sighs and pulls her hand away. "You have to be careful.. Scott doesn't get the whole humanity thing anymore. He doesn't like us even insinuating that we'd want to go back." She shakes her head. "I don't hear him though."
Apo's really silent as she tries to listen. She too hears nothing, but she's also been more or less trying to reject her more vampiric traits since turning. "So?"
"So I don't know…" Shelby fiddles with the broach on her lapel. It's the same one Owen and Pyro and Scott wear. "I like being a vampire, I think. I don't think I'd want to be cured. But I don't want everyone to hate me."
"They don't hate you."
"See, you keep saying that," Shelby takes a deep breath — tension releasing on the exhale. "But I don't… Are they okay with the vampires of Oakhurst because they're still the same person — or because they're visibly not a vampire?"
The horror on Martyn's frozen face as the silver exploded off her body. The panicked shriek. The truth not something they could ignore as her eyes deepened to a dark red. The others aren't visibly a threat. They still look human, the humans can still pretend that they're human. If Shelby were to come back, no one would be able to pretend.
Shelby walks past Apo to a cabinet that she opens. Dust flies off of the polished wood. "Besides. I turned Avid. He wanted to be turned… but does that make me an enemy?"
"I don't know." She wants to say that Shelby would always be welcome, but she's right. She turned Avid. Apo's seen how they react when Scott even so much as implies he'd turn people if they asked him. It's not positive.
Gesturing for Apo to approach the cabinet, Shelby pulls out another broach. It's a turquoise gem inlaid into complicated carved gold. She affixes the broach to Apo's dress bodice. "But. That's okay. Because maybe the coven isn't… perfect." She straightens it out. "But they're family now."
"Family," Apo whispers under her breath, fingers grazing over the fine jewels. This is much more than she deserves. Shelby nods, and smiles.
Family. She wishes she could see her reflection. She wishes she could see just how perfectly she looks like she belongs. The only thing missing would be the snow white hair. She's no better than the humans of Oakhurst, she doesn't want to cross that line. It feels like once she does, she won't be able to go back. Glancing back at Shelby... at how eagerly she helped Apo... maybe that wouldn't be that bad. Maybe there are worse people to be stuck with for eternity.
Except Owen, she still wants Owen's head on a stick.
_______
What Apo's learned is that it's really hard to sneak around when everyone has super hearing and it's driving her mad. She can't even try to leave the Castle without someone coming with her. Possessive freaks. She knows that she hasn't exactly earned their trust, but it still feels insane for her to have practically no privacy. They're always up in her business and it's really creepy.
Apo pushes open the large double doors of the front entrance . And she waits. And waits. And waits a little longer. No one shows up. Which is crazy, because it's normally an instantaneous response. The door opens and someone is offering to come with her to wherever she wishes to go. But it's silent, not a peep. She concentrates and can hear no footsteps or the distant flutter of bat wings beating against rabid sea side winds. She's free. She can go meet with the militia and tell them everything she's learned so far... which admittedly isn't a lot.
The first time she turned into a bat was painful, now it's second nature as she steps and arms become wings. The distance from the Castle to Oakhurst isn't that bad when you're flying. And flying is truly the best part about being a vampire. The wind beneath your wings, the buffet of cool crisp air -- the world is at your fingertips. There are no borders or boundaries stopping you from flying forever. Apo lands in the village square, on edge from the consecrated beacon so near to her.
Abolish has his sword on her, which y'know? Valid reaction. The silver sword disappears as soon as she stretches out, obviously not one of the others. Or… maybe a little less obviously another member of the coven these days. Silver can't kill her anyways. It just hurts like a bitch. The only way to kill her is to stab her with a stake. Apo yawns, her new sleep pattern set to the rotations of the moon rather than the sun. And the moon is falling behind the treeline, petering out in the distance.
"You have news?" Abolish asks.
Apo glances around. No one else, despite the fact that they agreed to meet tonight at this particular time. She can hear them, scuttling about their houses. "I'd rather just wait for everyone else, I don't want to repeat myself."
Abolish shifts uneasily from foot to foot. "I'll go grab them."
"Right."
"Right."
Apo licks her teeth, watching Abolish disappear from house to house. One by one the militia — her friends come out of their houses. The houses she should be allowed into, but that most of them have kept her out of since becoming a vampire. For their own protection, she wishes she could say she faults them for it. But she knows if the roles were swapped she would do the same. Martyn, Sausage, Ren, Avid, and Abolish stand around her, all looking uneasy in the worst way possible.
"Are you alright?" Martyn asks, the first one to speak up.
"Why wouldn't I be?" Apo smooths out her skirts and the many ruffled layers of decadent fabric.
Avid doesn't meet her eyes when he speaks, "You look different is all…" Maybe he doesn't meet her gaze because he knows she knows he's lying. He's still pretending to be a human, despite the fact that every vampire knows.
"Yeah." The dresses she's been dawning are more ornate than she's ever considered wearing before — sticking to simple things and military uniforms. "Owen ripped my old stuff so I just got some of Scott's." She shrugs, as though it's no big deal. It is a big deal, because she looks like one of them now. She acts like one of them now. She talks like one of them.
"You could have come back for some of ours," Sausage suggests.
Apo shakes her head. "No. I couldn't have. Then they would know, and the whole point is that they don't know." She shrugs. "I wasn't going to walk around naked." What kind of idiots get upset over clothes? She tries not to hold it personally, but there's something cold and cruel that wraps around her heart.
A poisoned thought. An idea spread by proximity. What point is there in humanity, if this is how the humans act? Is she nothing more than a tool? A doll to dress up and play with? Is she a fool for doing this? She knows what the others in the coven would say. She can hear Scott and Owen's voices in her head. She shakes away the thoughts, zoning back into the conversation at hand.
"So have you learned anything new?"
Apo shifts her weight from foot to foot. "Scott and Owen have this weird power struggle going, and I think I can exploit that? Ideally I think I might be able to get Owen to kill Scott himself. But other than that they’re fairly tight lipped."
"I see… I see…" Martyn nods. There's something odd in the way he holds himself. Apo catches the vaguest scent of something in the air — faint but noticeable. It's the sick scent of fear. She narrows her eyes as realization dawns on her with a hollow sun. Martyn is scared of her.
"What about you guys? Find the third healing book?" She stiffens at his fear, and her stiffening causes Abolish to linger his hand on a wooden stake sequestered in his belt. She swallows back thick saliva, stomaching the heartbreak of betrayal that stings like a thousand paper cuts. Abolish shakes his head. "Why are you scared?" She asks. Though she doesn't quite want to know the answer. Apo doesn't meet any one persons gaze.
Ren is the one who speaks. "Well. If ye quack like a duck, and ye walk like a duck — don'cha know?"
Apo sets her jaw. "Yeah. I think I do." She takes a deep breath and takes a step back. "I should be getting back before they notice I'm gone."
"I think that's a good idea." Abolish presses his lips into a fine line. "Do you know when you'll be able to meet next, then?"
It's Apo's turn to shake her head. "They’ve had me under lock and key – always watching.” In fact, they’re probably watching now. She wouldn’t be surprised… “But I’ll find a way to let you guys know. I promise.”
Maybe in hindsight it's foolish to assume that she'd be able to avoid suspicion. The flight home is easy, no eyes on her but there's an eerie feeling in the air. It's too still, the winds too quiet. She keeps her ears out but she hears nothing and no one. Scott is waiting for her at the doors. Arms crossed like an annoyed father. He's tapping his foot, and it echoes across the bridge.
When she steps out of the bat form she stays still at the edge of the bridge. He knows, he knows. This is where Apo dies — somehow he'll kill her for good for stepping over the line. She knows the rules, or at the very least could put two and two together to figure it out. She closes her eyes. If this is it, then hopefully Cherri will find out somehow — hear about it from the noblemen who escape. Hopefully Cherri will know that this is not Apo's fault. She tried.
She didn't try hard enough.
Apo's tackled to the ground. Her knees scrape against cobbled stone. A very out of breath Pyro pops up from on top of her. He's brushing off smooth silk and offering her a hand up. "I told you not to get ahead of me." He says — no, he lies.
"Oh? So you two were out… together?" Scott looks between the two of them.
Apo takes Pyro's hand, standing on unsteady legs and uncertain terrain. This is a minefield that she doesn't know how to navigate. "Yes, sire, we were." Pyro says, staring at Apo and Apo only. His words, for the first time in a long time, are certain.
"I told you I wouldn't let you lie to me again, Pyro." Apo can't see Scott, but she can see the way that Pyro winces.
He's scared of Scott. If Apo is a dog on a leash, then Pyro is a dog at heel. He lavishes in Scott's attention, and he feels the full force of Scott's wrath. This is dangerous for Pyro, who is lying. It should mean something, that Pyro is putting himself in harms way to save Apo from the consequences of her own actions. And it does. If she were a braver person maybe she'd linger on those feelings of warmth that spread through her lungs like a deep breath of pure and fresh air. She's not a braver person.
Pyro stills himself, kissing the back of Apo's hand. "I promise you, sire." He says, with the purest conviction of anyone in Oakhurst. "I am not lying. Apo was with me all evening. If I'm lying then may the Saints strike me."
She spins around to see Scott tilting his head. He stares at the two of them, appraising them. And he knows. He must know it's a lie. He would not be standing there waiting if he did not suspect Apo of something foul. He narrows his eyes, and Pyro sticks an arm in front of Apo. Noble… considering that out of the two of them, Apo is probably the better fighter. She's military trained and Pyro's been an academic his whole life.
Oh the jealousy. She can’t help it. If she were born a higher class, to a noble or a professor then that could have been her, heading to the academy and drafting conscription. She could have studied the architecture she loves so much. She wouldn’t be here, in this position… that’s for certain.
"If you say so." He turns on his heels and the doors open without him having to touch them. "Come on, Pyro. I need your help with something."
Pyro looks back at Apo, apologetic. Apo shrugs, brushing her dress of the dirt from her small tumble. What has her life become? What is going on? She is surrounded by freaks and weirdos, and there's a part of her that is mildly concerned about how Scott licks his teeth as Pyro rushes to the castle with no hesitation.
______
The castle is large, with many spiraling staircases and made of stone and rock, with only a few different wooden furnishings. The floor in some rooms is made of the dead wood, which was explained to Apo as 'actually stone while looking like wood'. They fear burning fires, and dying to the licking holy flames. Apo doesn't understand, but it was Owen who insisted it necessary for their safety.
It sounds like Avid's mad ramblings about silver and garlic, but she doesn't point that out. It's not her place, and she'd be lying if she said that the anger of these creatures didn't frighten her on occasion. They can get really mad, really quick — and they have this really weird aura about them that makes her fear, in a truly primitive way.
She finds herself near the animal farms, feeling the hunger claw at her stomach. She stares at the animals and can't bring herself to do it. She knows that both Pyro and Shelby prefer this blood over human blood, but she also knows that she can't stand blood point blank. It doesn't matter how weak she gets, she'll only feed at her most desperate — when instincts take over and guide her actions.
They're gentile creatures. Apo holds out her hand and watches as one of the pigs comes up to her, nuzzling her hand. She smiles, the humanity she craves is just out of her reach — but for a quiet moment she can forget about it all. She can forget about Oakhurst and the vampires, she can forget about her tour, she can forget. That's why she came to Oakhurst in the first place isn't it? To forget? To let herself live for the few moments she's been allotted before thrust back into the thick of it. The moon is high in the sky, the rest of the Coven is out and about, and Apo's plans to meet up with the militia are set for sunrise.
"Beautiful creatures, aren't they?"
Apo jumps about five feet into the air, startled and unsettled. She hadn't heard him approach, despite her heightened senses the elder vampires elude her. They understand how to cut underneath the noise, they are darkness and shadows. Sometimes she's jealous of those abilities, of being able to fight without being seen and being able to run without being heard. Then she thinks about it more, and hates herself for wishing more vampirism upon herself. That's why she's here, to figure out a cure. She wants to get rid of this hunger, the one that's always in the back of her head, urging her.
Owen comes up to stand next to Apo, claws hidden beneath white silk gloves. He almost looks normal like this — if not for the stark white hair and blood red eyes.
What people don't understand, what the villagers don't understand, is that it's not just a perpetual hunger for blood. You're hungry. Dreams become ambitions, and you'll stop at nothing to get what you want. It's a force, driving you forever forward. You're thinking four steps ahead, perpetually planning. Each step is one thought over a hundred times over, and you'll never truly be satisfied until you reach your goal. Everything is amplified, senses, emotions, thoughts. You don't change as a person, you just become more intense. Good people stay good people, and bad people stay bad. It's a spectrum, like anything else.
"I had a pet pig in the village," Apo says as she nods. "They probably killed it."
"Humans can often be cruel."
Sometimes it feels as though they're having seven different conversations even through something as simple as talking about pigs. Everything is layered and complicated, especially with Owen and Scott. They're ancient.
Apo hugs herself, not daring to look over and meet Owen's searching gaze. "You say that as though you haven't killed over 2000 people."
Cruelty. What is the difference between cruelty and misunderstanding, good intents with bad consequences? It's something that Apo has been dwelling on more and more the longer she stays with the coven. Maybe it's the propaganda, maybe she's being brainwashed. She doesn't know. What she does know is that most of these vampires… they aren't that bad. Maybe they can even be redeemable.
"They were all complicit in my isolation, and my misery. You understand what it's like to wake up… confused… desperate. They took away my only connection to my vampirism, my only source of comfort. What would you have done if they had killed Cleo?"
Apo clenches her jaw. Cleo was not the one who turned her, but she is the one that Apo had turned to. They had grown close, and the thought of Cleo getting killed… She digs her nails into her skin, feeling that nice satisfying pinprick of pain. There's no surge of blood from the small cuts — there wouldn't be. She hasn't fed enough for there to be that much blood coursing through her for her to lose. She hates to admit it to Owen, least of all out loud, but it slips from her lips as her soldier training flashes through her mind. "They'd all be dead."
Owen doesn't pay attention to Apo's words. He completely ignores them, eyes narrowing as he roots around his satchel bag. He pulls out a bottle of crimson, offering it to Apo — he's so gracious as to pop the cork for her. "You need to eat, Apo." His voice is so matter of fact, so devoid of emotion. "We're not going to let you starve yourself."
The hunger leaps to her throat, like thick bile making her want to retch the acid that alone sits in her stomach. The scent makes her woozy, a kind of faint that she can't explain. Then the scent hits her nose, copper floating through the air. She closes her eyes as panic seizes her chest, her hands shake and she digs her fingers deeper into her skin to try to get her to still. If Owen sees her like this? He could abuse the hell out of this information, this weakness that she carries.
One small scent of blood and she's back on the battlefield — she's fighting a war that she didn't want to. There's a rifle in her blood stained hands, and her comrades are on the ground. The air is thick with rotten eggs and sickly sweet melon. Gun fire is like some sort of twisted fireworks echoing around her, her clothes muddy as she ducks in the trenches. Her breaths pick up. How many people had she killed? How many people lost friends, and family because of her? Cruelty. What is cruelty when it's your life or theirs?
There's a long string of curses somewhere off in the distance, which isn't all too odd. She's never known a soldier to curb their mouths. When you've got a bullet in the leg you're not thinking about manners, you're trying not to cry — to mourn the fact that you will die. Maybe the wound isn't fatal, but it'll get infected and you'll lose your leg if you can get it amputated in time.
Then a cold hand on her face and she's brought back to reality. Her eyes are shut tight and her breaths are hurried — though breathing truly doesn't do anything for her anymore. As she tries to open her eyes there's a sharp clicking noise in her ear and she stops her attempts. "Keep your eyes closed. Keep your eyes closed, and keep focusing on me. Okay?"
Apo shakes her head, but she keeps her eyes closed. There's the incessant oinking of the pigs followed by a small tearing sound. The hand guides her face. And she has to stop the panic from rising again as her lips meet blood and flesh. She chokes and coughs but instincts take over and she's latching onto the wrist as the hand on her face starts to card through her hair, whispering a lot of nothings. Tears cascade down her face, and it takes everything she has not to fall back into the battles she fled from.
"When I was younger, Oakhurst was a lot nicer." Owen whispers. The pigs threaten to drown him out, but Apo focuses on those hushed words spoken just for her. "There was this gorgeous town center, with a huge marble fountain. Lots of flowers, plenty of farms. We were really big into animal husbandry, and I suppose in hindsight that makes a lot of sense." Owen laughs under his breath, spinning tales of the old Oakhurst — the Oakhurst before he ruined it. Apo lets the words fall on her ears, lets them wash over her. She focuses on those words, not on the copper coating her tongue or the scent of blood drifting through the air.
She doesn't know how long Owen talks, how long she feeds. It could be hours, could be minutes. She only stops when Owen pries her face away from his arm. She still doesn't open her eyes, she doesn't want to see it, to face the reality of what's happened to her. She doesn't want to know that there's the hunger inside of her — that the only way she lives is by taking from others.
A soft silk cloth dabs at her face, cleaning the tears from her cheeks and the blood from her mouth. She's still shaking, still terrified. Stupid mandatory conscription. "It's okay," Owen says. "You can open your eyes now."
She has to blink to get accustomed to the light — or rather darkness. She's on the ground, leaned up against the wall with Owen squatted next to her. She digs her fingers into grass and dirt and mud and clutches for dear life. "I'm sorry," she mutters under her breath.
"Don't be." Owen holds the bloodied kerchief against his wrist. "I know you said you weren't a fan of blood… but I thought it was general discomfort. Plenty of people get squeamish." He tilts his head. "So what was it?"
Apo draws her knees to her chest, trying to find something grounding — some small comfort, as though if she gets small enough she doesn't have to worry about all her really big problems. "Conscription starts when you're 21, mandatory military work. I ended up on the front lines." She draws some shapes in the mud, lavishing in the dirt beneath her long claw like nails. Bright flashes, ringing in her ear.
"I can't do fires, "Owen offers -pulling her out of the start of another spiral. Apo rests her head on top of her knees, not prompting Owen to keep going but rather staring at him intently. "Sometimes I wake up and there's still smoke in my lungs. That's why the fireplace is never going when I'm in a room. Pyro's got a weird thing with water, and Shelby's obsessed with werewolves but she can't stand the howls."
"And Scott?"
"Scott's… He isn't tortured, he's the torturer." Owen shrugs, as though that weren't a big deal. He shakes his head as he stands up. "The point is that we all have personal demons. That doesn't go away,"
Apo's voice catches in her throat. "I've killed people." The truth falling from her lips like she sits in the pews of the church. "I've killed so many people."
"Welcome to the club," Owen snorts. He walks over to the door back into the castle. The moon's setting, which alone leaves Apo with a weird feeling in her chest. The sun isn't rising, the moon is setting. Her world is getting flipped upside down. "Look who you're talking to, Apo. Look who you're living with. None of your sins matter under this roof. Now, you have that meeting with Oakhurst now, don't you?"
"How did you-" Apo stiffens, she has nothing to fight with but she's prepared to defend herself. She wouldn't be able to. Her hands still shake, and her mind is slow — still reeling from those damned memories.
Owen shrugs. "Shelby and Pyro warned you, didn't they? It's best to assume that we're always around." Owen's form disappears in swirling teal particles. His voice is thrown around the courtyard, though the door opens. "Be glad it was me instead of Scott this time. I'm willing to let you make your own mistakes." It almost feels like Owen is over her shoulder, whispering in her ear. "Besides, if you betray us? What's one more death on my hands?"
The door slams shut. And Apo knows that she's been left alone. She wipes her face with both her hands, taking a deep breath. What has she gotten herself into? She just wanted to figure out how to kill Scott and buy time while they find the last cure book. She just wants to go back home… but… if she could bring Cherri here? Would she? It's weird and messy and it gets more and more complicated by the day. She doesn't think she hates anyone. She doesn't know if she truly can anymore. They've all been too nice to her, but not in a fake or forced way.
Grumbling, she comes to trembling legs. Owen was right. Even if she didn't feel up to going, she made a deal with Oakhurst. She's still a double agent. She steps into her bat form, and a piece of her begins to wonder if that's still true. Can you be a double agent when your heart drifts closer to the enemy by the day?
____________
Scott trails a long claw under Apo's jaw. Apo sets said jaw with stubborn regard. It's just her and Scott in the damned castle. Shelby went down to the lake to fish, they're all getting fairly sick of pig's blood. Owen is off doing who knows what, and Pyro has decided to go try to loot the tombs before the villagers do. It hasn't escaped her mind that perhaps the coven has the third cure book and hasn't trusted her enough to tell her where yet.
"Pyro's not here to lie for you," he says. His touch is light, but threatening. At any given second he could send his claw through Apo's skin. "So I need to know where you've been going by yourself."
Apo clenches her fists at her side. She was sitting down at the table and enjoying some half decent raw potatoes. The others have been helping her feed, and while potatoes are still like ash on her tongue it's not like other food that makes her want to throw up. It's filling enough, and can satiate her long enough to not go insane from the creeping and crawling hunger that seems to linger far too often.
She was sitting at the large dining hall when Scott stormed in, starting this whole dance. "If you knew he was lying, why let him?"
"Better lie for a vampire than a human," Scott says, like it's the most basic of common sense. "I reward loyalty." He pushes a bit deeper, not enough to break Apo's skin but enough to sting. "I hate traitors."
Apo leans back in the ornate wooden chair that she saw Owen carving a duplicate of the other day. "We both know why I'm here," she says at last — a breathy sigh and a confession to the man who holds her eternal life in the palm of his hand. She's only allowed in the castle because Scott permits her. She's only alive because Scott fans the embers of her remaining soul with a fabric fan. "We all know why I'm here."
Pyro covered for her. Owen knows. She'd be shocked if Drift hadn't told Shelby during their lakeside meetings. Scott snorts, pulling away his hand. Maybe he hadn't expected her to be so forward. Maybe he had expected her to try to lie her way through this — that's not who she is. She can't obscure a truth so obvious. She licks her teeth, wondering where it goes from here — now that they're on similar footing.
"I guess we do." Scott jumps onto the table, sitting with one leg crossed over the other. "So tell me, great spy, what have you learned in your time here? What have you told the peasants of Oakhurst?"
"What will you do if I don't tell you? That's the point isn't it?"
Scott drums his fingers against the table. "I mean I'll probably kill you." Apo scrunches her nose, but doesn't allow herself any more of a reaction. "Don't glare at me like that. Don't act like you wouldn't do the same. You're a soldier. What were you trained to do with traitors?"
The problem is that Apo would, she would do the exact same thing if she were in his shoes. She'd kill herself without hesitation. They're told to kill off the weakest links, to sever people from body and soul if they showed signs of being a turn coat. There was no room for that… no room for someone with loose lips. She blinks long and slow.
She needs to be careful with her words, to pick and choose them with consideration. There's no room for slipping up. Scott would not mourn her. Scott would not even have the decency to do it quickly. He would not care. Her life is in the hands of a man who sees himself as a god because what mortal lives forever? Centuries of years to detach from feelings and empathy. How can she beat centuries? She's barely in her twenties.
"We killed them," she mutters, wincing as Scott clicks his tongue. Those stupid instincts that she was more easily able to ignore become more and more insistent the closer she gets to being fully realized. She lets herself starve, but with every drop of blood she can feel herself nearing that cliff side edge. "Without remorse." Though those feelings will always remain, in the back of her mind — ingrained in her memories like a brand.
"See? You can't get mad at me then. Be grateful I haven't killed you already, I honestly could have." Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thu-thump. Thud. His fingers stop drumming as he leans forward. "So what did you tell them?"
Apo closes her eyes, and takes a deep breath. "That you and Owen are in a perpetual dick measuring competition."
Scott snorts. "Is that it? You've been here for months and that's all you've learned?" Is it being a double agent if everyone knows? "I could have told them that. I would have if they asked. Owen doesn't know his place, and that's… okay for now. Everyone learns in due time."
This is one of the moments where she’s reminded that Scott is amaranthine. That twinkle behind his eyes, the promise of what is to come. He is the future, and he carved the past with his own two hands. Scott isn't a player, he's made the board. He's known from the very beginning why Apo is here. He knows what she'll do before she does it. It makes her feel small — makes things feel pointless. He's already decided how this will end. Her fate has been secured.
"You guys really aren't that interesting?" Apo shrugs. "There's nothing to tell." The villagers calling her one of them. The way she defends them. The coven's warmth against her cold skin. Things will happen as Scott wishes them to. And if that's the case, is there any point in fighting it?
"I should still kill you, y'know?" The drumming of his fingers return, deliberating her destiny. The ticking of a clock — the sands of time running out. She grabs onto them, determined to buy herself more. "You still betrayed me. And I have no reason to trust that you'll cherish this gift like I can with Pyro or Shelby."
The hunger crawling through her veins. "What would I have to do?" She asks. "For you to let me stay?" To live.
Scott brings his wrist to his mouth, cutting open his vein. The copper makes her head spin in a very traumatic flashback kind of way. She manages to hold onto her wits, to not fall down that easy spiral. Apo knows what Scott wants her to do. If there's a cure? She hopes this was all worth it. She grabs Scott's wrist, and she drinks. She keeps her eyes closed like she's become so used to, trusting Scott to pull her off when it's been enough.
The worst part is that she can feel it as it's happening. The energy that returns to her body, the surge of strength. She can pick up heartbeats of the animals outside, can hear the crashing of waves against the cliff side. Scott eases her off, whispering that it's okay for her to open her eyes — she doesn't have to see the blood.
Here he is threatening her life, and he still gives a damn.
It's weird.
Scott runs a hand through Apo's hair as she opens her eyes. "All that. And you're still going to run back to the humans, aren't you?" He narrows his eyes, rubbing two strands together. Red and white. Not pure white like the other four. Scott sighs and shakes his head. "Well I hope you don't." He leaps off the table, but before he can leave Apo grabs him by the wrist.
He raises an eyebrow. He waits for Apo to speak. She chews on her words. But nothing more comes to mind except for, "Why?" She asks. Desperate, pleading.
"You're going to have to be more specific."
"You know I'm going to go back to them. That I'm not going to stop, so why? Why let me live, why not kill me here and now? Why?" She doesn't understand. But she needs to. She needs to know why they're all so nice to her despite knowing that she's not going to be true to them the same way that they've been true to her.
Scott sighs, wrenching his wrist from Apo's grasp — which admittedly wasn't very strong in the first place. "I don't see Cleo or Avid or Drift coming around any time soon. But I think you decided to come here for a reason. And I don't think that you know deep down that I'm right. That you belong here." Scott smiles and tilts his head in that knowing way of his. "You'll learn your place." Just like Owen. Just like Pyro and Shelby. They're all pieces on a board centuries in the making. He leaves without another word. Leaving Apo… alone.
____________
Apo's sitting on the beacon. The desecrated beacon, blood red and brilliant. She twirls her hair, the threads weaving between her fingers. It's been… far too long since she's joined the coven under the idea of being a double agent for Oakhurst. As the days go by she's finding she's spending less and less time with Oakhurst, and more and more time with the Coven. She explains it to the people of Oakhurst in simple terms: There's not enough information to risk blowing her cover.
Her cover’s been blown. Owen and Scott just… don't care. They know that she hasn't actually been kicked out, yet they continue to let her stay in the castle. She was warned about not allying with them, she's not allowed to be one foot in and one foot out. Maybe they can see it, the same way she does. She's not human anymore. It's been a long time since she's been human, even before she was turned she's not sure how much of her humanity was truly left.
"You're kidding me," she mutters under her breath. When she became a fully realized vampire, she considers herself lucky — the others had their hair go stark white, but she just got some really cool highlights. It's still noticeable, red and white and an insatiable hunger. Not just for blood, for more. The castle is shaping up really nicely, and Apo often considers bringing Cherri back from the capital to live with her. An eternal paramour. "When did I lose it?"
She nearly jumps out of her skin, she had been hearing footsteps nearby, but she had assumed they were coming from upstairs — where Scott likes to worry and work. No — Owen comes up almost right next to her from a hidden trap door in the ground. She blinks, tilting her head. "Since when was that there?"
"Since the beginning." He seems to weigh his options for a moment before shrugging. "Want to see what's down here?"
A… secret? Her heart leaps to her throat, and she swears she can almost hear it beating again. Anticipation, excitement, and also… fear. There's a deep seated fear in the back of her brain. This could be good for Oakhurst, like really good for Oakhurst. At the same time though… At the same time they're trusting her. They're trusting her with an important secret — it has to be important because they're hiding it beneath the floor boards with a trapdoor that you can't even see from the top side.
As Apo descends her eyes adjust to the darkness. She's learned that while you can see in the dark, there's not a lot of places that aren't lit up with lanterns or chandeliers in the castle. It's not fun to have to use dark sight all the time.
There's a single chest, in the very back corner. Apo rushes over to it as Owen laughs under his breath. Her hand on the clasp she looks back — for permission. "Go ahead. You can look, I'm not going to stop you after bringing you down here."
"You're sure?" She asks. Apo doesn't wait for a reply. Sitting at the very bottom of the very dusty chest is a tome. The Tome. She doesn't even need to open the pages to know, the weight in her hand. "The third cure book?" She needs the confirmation.
It's a test.
"Yeah. I've had it pretty much this whole time. But it wouldn't do well if the villagers could cure us, would it? A shame that would be." He pulls his hands through her hair. "After you've gone through such the effort." That's something she's noticed, all of the vampires are very touchy. They don't understand nor respect personal space. Apo doesn't mind it, funnily enough.
It's a test.
She holds the book, the reason she joined the coven. She could run it to Oakhurst. She could show it to the villagers. She can be cured. Does she want to be cured? The thought rocks her, knocking her off guard. She never thought it'd come to that, to the question. She has to choose.
She never thought she'd have to choose. She came in knowing where her loyalties lie. Apo places the book back in the chest, closing it with a soft click. "A real shame," Apo echoes. Owen lets go of her hair, which for some reason has grown longer since she's become a vampire, she didn't think that possible at all. She's not aging anymore, so you'd think her hair wouldn't grow anymore either. You'd be wrong.
"Well then," Owen claps his hands together. "I'm off! I'm meeting with the doctor. He still thinks he can fix me." Owen snorts. "Make good choices Apo."
Owen leaves. Apo doesn't breathe until she hears the flutter of his wings. She's still in the secret compartment. She acts before she can convince herself not to. The book is stashed in a satchel she stole from Owen, in clothes that she's stolen from Scott. She runs out of the castle she's learned to love calling home with the express intent to betray people she now considers family. Well maybe not Scott. Scott's a bitch, and that probably won't ever change.
It's a test.
A test she knows that she's failing.
The bag is too heavy to carry as a bat, so she doesn't. She runs with all of her inhuman speed through forests and down the path. Part of her knows that Owen is following her, part of her knows that they're all following her. This is a test. And she's failing. When she reaches the gates of the town she freezes, there's an uncomfortable feeling deep in her gut. It's an instinctual stop.
Martyn stands at the gate, a stake in his hand. "Martyn?" Her stomach drops. She sees his Saint given power surround her, trapping her. She couldn't stop him from killing her. He looks like he wants to kill her.
The murder behind his eyes. He stands there, he waits. She waits. He doesn't answer. She doesn't speak. The murder behind his eyes — the anger that stews deep in her stomach. She never thought she'd be in a position where she'd have to choose. Now that she's here, what will she choose? Surely the others in the Coven won't let her die. The book is heavy in her satchel. Does she trust Martyn to use the cure right?
Does she even want to be human?
The night is young, the moon high above them — the air is red and thick with fog. "Apo." Martyn says at last. It's a sigh, deep and exasperated. "Don't come any closer."
Stay there.
"What?" Apo struggles against the invisible barriers that keep her stuck in place. It's too familiar. That night. They pretended to chase her out, but did they? She takes a deep breath, adjusting her grip on her satchel bag. "I have —"
"Look at you!" Martyn snaps, cutting her off. She licks her teeth, setting her jaw. "You're one of them Apo. How long did it take? How long were you there before you decided it was a lost cause? That you wanted us dead."
His screaming draws attention, more and more villagers find their way to the gate to watch everything go down. They all look equally as wary. None of them leave the town. None of them tell Martyn he's overreacting. Apo can't turn her head, but she can hear the flapping of bats wings behind her. A test. She presses her lips into a thin line. "I don't want you dead, Martyn. I don't any of you dead!"
A test.
"Then why are you fully realized? Why have you turned your back on us? Why is Scott still alive?"
"Because I was gonna start a war when we don't have the last cure book! There's no point in escalating into a war and risking lives." Apo makes eye contact with the doctor — who's notably not meeting with Owen somewhere in the woods. He understands what Apo is saying, he's the only one who would. Pearl isn't a soldier, she's a fighter and there's a difference between them. Legundo holds her gaze with a steady one of her own. "War isn't smart. War is never smart! And I don't expect a capital kid like you to understand that."
She feels the Saints’ bounds release around her. It takes too much energy out of Martyn, he has to time his uses. Apo can see the weariness carved into his sunken eyes, the pull of his shoulders. She makes sure to back up far enough to be out of range of his ability but in ear shot. Her heeled boots sinking into soft mud.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"What do you think it means?" Apo bears her fangs. "You're so quick to run into danger! You're so eager for bloodshed. You never have a plan and people get hurt when that happens — people have gotten hurt. And it's your fault. Look around Martyn, how many of the Oakhurst villagers became vampires because they were following you. The answer is more than zero." Apo catches sight of the torches illuminating the top of the walls.
The book.
A test.
Martyn spins the stake, an unspoken threat. The problem is that Apo doesn't feel threatened. How could she? He's been pretending to be braver than he is this whole time. He has no training, no tactics. He's foolish, brash. It gets people turned. It gets people killed. Apo has training. Apo's been in the goddamn trenches and is a better shot than anyone else in Oakhurst. A plan is forming in her mind, and the only people she'd truly be betraying are Cleo and Drift… and Avid. All of whom are so eager to be human again. Cleo accepted that they might not find the cure and that even if they did that the cure might not work. She hasn't talked much to Drift and Avid's still pretending. It's a miracle he hasn't made it to level 2 yet.
"What are you implying?"
Apo shrugs, hand still around the satchel. "That you're a faker. How much money did daddy have to pay you to dodge the conscription?"
"Do you have news for us," Cleo cuts off — forcing herself to the front, standing next to Martyn. "We didn't schedule anything."
The book. The torch. A test.
The bats fluttering near the forest behind her. The villagers in front of her. She flips open the satchel. With careful, quiet hands she pulls out the final tome. Quiet. Silence. There's not a noise, not the whistle of the wind or the chirp of crickets in the late night. It's silence. They all know what it is. If she does this, what will stop them from killing her? Martyn is ready too, he doesn't trust her. None of them trust her. They'll kill her if this doesn't work. She's been a monster for a long time.
Apo smiles, fangs catching on firelight. "They've had it the whole time. That's why we, why you could never find it." The third tome. The last piece of the puzzle. The bats flapping behind her. The villagers in front of her. The book. The torch. A test.
In front of her lies death, behind her lies eternity.
"You?" The doctor says. He must know. Owen probably told him something. Apo's eyes fixate on the torches.
"When did you decide that I was a monster?" It's only directed at one person. The only person who's been making calls that he never should have. "When did you decide for me that I can't come home?" No one says anything. No one dares say that she can, that even if she did hand over the cure book that she can be one of them again. She hasn't been one of them. Not for a long time.
Martyn is the first one to speak. "Look at you, Apo. Was it really all a cover?" He sticks out his hand. "Give us the tome, and you can come back."
Apo doesn't have to turn around to know that the vampires show up behind her. They step out of their bat forms with small poofs. Their feet land on the grass, and Apo can hear it all. She can hear all of the elevated heart beats of the few humans still in Oakhurst. And Apo? Apo stands between the two of them. She has to pick a side. Once and for all.
It's not even a question.
"Is my being a part of Oakhurst dependent on this tome? If Owen hadn't shown it to me, if I hadn't found it, would you have let me back?" Martyn doesn't answer. He doesn't even look at her. How pathetic.
In an instant Apo is at the wall, pulling a torch from its metal bindings. All eyes are on her as she tosses the book on the ground, and the torch on top of the book. "I'm sorry, Cleo. Drift," She meets the eyes of the Villagers as they gawk at her. She's made her choice — they've made the choice for her. The vampires remembered things about her, they cared for her. What was she to Oakhurst other than a soldier's hand? "I'm sorry, Avid." She smiles as she says it.
Owen snorts. "Cat's out of the bag then."
"Avid?" Sausage almost screams in pure disbelief.
Avid sinks to the back, cowing his head. Apo can see Cleo's anger, can feel Drift's sadness. "Leave," Apo says. "Maybe there's more information on the cure out there somewhere. But not here. So do everyone a favor. And leave." Martyn brings his hoards up to use his Saint given ability. The fire burning, Apo bounds over, sweeping him off his feet and kicking the stake from his hand. "If you want to fight, then we can fight. I will win. And I will defend my family with everything I have."
"You're a monster," Martyn growls through gritted teeth.
"I don't think that's anything new. I think I've been a monster for a long time."
The screams. The blood. The gunshots and wounds and death and decay, they've followed her. They've haunted her. The guilt has made her sick to the stomach, the blood would never come off her hands. None of that feels... that bad anymore. The vampires don't care. They don't make her feel bad about the things she was forced to do. And if they can forgive her sins then she can forgive theirs. She knows where she belongs.
She turns on her heels, trusting the rest of Oakhurst to know that this is not a battle they can win. Shelby opens her arms and Apo falls into them readily. "I'm tired, Shelby." Apo rests her head on her shoulder. "And hungry."
Shelby kisses the top of Apo's head. "I know. Let's go back home."
Never in her life has someone said the word home, and Apo actually feels a warm wash of comfort. She wants to go home, the only home where she's ever truly belonged. And once she brings Cherri into the coven? Then eternity can be perfect.