Rond made his way slowly, his steps heavy.

  “Wattyson… you’re hurt…” murmured out Rond, finally reaching the two. He noticed now after the sun was up that Wattyson had been bleeding from his back the entire time.

  Wattyson stood up, he didn’t turn. He felt ashamed to.

  Glass shattered on his back.

  “You dumb oaf!” shouted Rond, throwing health potions directly at him. His voice was midst of panic and… relief?

  Wattyson didn’t flinch from the pain, despite numerous glass shards embedded into him now. He finally turned to Rond, his face a mix of surprise and disheartened.

  “You’ll ruin my robe…”

  Rond offered no retort. He quickly paced to him, placing his hands on his shoulders, slapping his face lightly.

  “You’re okay… Hahaha...” he half laughed and half trembled. “Who care about your robe? You got numerous of them back in the cottage.”

  “This one was limited edition.” Wattyson’s voice was low yet light.

  Arlene watched the two, still seated. How the two immediately forgot about what had happened did baffle her, but she realised. The two were using humour to distract one another from today’s event, at least for now.

  Silence washed over the trio for a time before Rond reeled back in, trying to process what happened.

  “The nice maid, Neciel…” his hand pointed behind his back, shaking. “What was she?”

  Wattyson’s expression darkened.

  “She was a vampire…”

  “And… the our elder?”

  “A vampire also.”

  Arlene now stood, facing Wattyson. “Did you know?” her voice hesitant. “That she-they were both… vampires?”

  Wattyson shook his head slowly. “No… I only found out now.”

  “Then… when you said the elder was experiencing the second wind at life?” her voice was paced slowly.

  “I..” his fist clenched. “I thought it was just her being in surge of energy.”

  Arlene and Rond both tilted their head, confused.

  Wattyson noticed the question on their face. “It’s… when someone is nearing death, they experience a sudden burst of life. Clarity in mind, strength like they were never ill…”

  Rond placed his hand above his mouth. “You’re suggesting… she was”

  “Turned into a vampire, yes.”

  “Why?” Arlene asked quietly, trying to process it. The elder was already content with passing on. She kept trying to process and find the why. Until it clicked. “Neciel…” she muttered out lowly.

  Wattyson nodded. “Neciel love her. Affectionately call her Grandma, not the term you would normally use as a maid, wouldn’t you?”

  He sighed. “Elder wished she had more time to see her family, but they wouldn’t arrive in time.”

  “So Neciel turned her…”

  “An action born out of love.”

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Rond harkened his mind back to all that horrifying scene. “It damned her entire family…”

  Wattyson let them processed in silence, his fist clenched soon release.

  “We cannot tell them” suggested Wattyson. “The fact there were vampires.”

  “What?!” Arlene’s eye widened, her face frowned. “Why?!”

  Wattyson gritted his teeth. It was the only choice from his experience.

  “It’s the only way… to protect everyone here.”

  Arlene gazed onto him, so did Rond. They both demanded answer.

  Wattyson lingered for a moment, looking back into the shining star. He returned them his gaze.

  “Vampires are ruthless” his voice low, barely a whisper. “If any information of them leak out, they will do everything to silence it. Even if it means military actions from their society.”

  He paused for them to sink in, before continuing, “Their grips on their own kind is something they don’t want other to know… It’s how their society operate, and survive within our mundane world.”

  Arlene flailed her arm slightly. “Then what about Neciel?! She was-“

  “Did it because she loved her. She didn’t know what was coming, or that she broke one of vampire’s society rule” he interjected, his voice sharp. “If any vampires caught wind of this maybe sometimes in the future,”

  His voice stammered and frightful. “I don’t know how they will respond exactly but it’ll be deadly.” He glanced at where the elder burned. “Thankfully… Neciel and the elder are… gone. They won’t turn an eye here unless everyone knows about vampire.”

  Rond raised his voice, a question. “What do you mean… she broke a vampire rule?”

  Wattyson tilted to him. “Vampirism is about living unalive. Their body won’t grow anymore. A person mind wouldn’t be able to handle the coldness after being embrace, nor could they handle the hunger within.”

  Wattyson paused, took the time to sit instead. Arlene observed his left leg was shaking the entire time. He continued,

  “That’s why their rule is only embracing someone who’s around young adult to mid-thirties. They’re the most capable according to them. Vampire also need permission from their sire to embrace another. Some vampires tell a person in advance so they can work out and reshape their mind and body while other just pick one at random…”

  Rond asked again, his voice was slowly creeping to horror. His gear was working to connect something he didn’t want to acknowledge yet. “What happen… when someone like the elder turned?”

  Wattyson’s face grew grim. “They lose themselves to the hunger more—a state of unconscious like a blackout, but their actions are more deadly. They lash out, bites, scratches, claws, kill, anything to satiate their hunger.”

  He looked to the house, “That’s… what happened there. Her entire family, gone.”

  Rond’s face followed Wattyson, full of horror and grim. “What do we do?”

  “Tell them what happen but… say a demon attack instead”

  Both Rond and Arlene were surprised. “A demon?” questioned Arlene. “Do you know how ridiculous that sound?”

  “Do you have any other ideas?” retorted Wattyson. “A demon possessing someone close to death, you, Arlene the Chosen One, came to banished it.” His finger still pointed.

  Arlene wanted to argue back, to lie and twisted the truth? That’s not… ideal but her mind was still on the tragedy.

  Rond put his foot down. “And you think I can tell them that?” This was something he was new too, and he had just witnessed a brutal aftermath. “I can’t lie, not something like this! I can’t forget about this to lie!”

  “No, but you control the flow of news” Wattyson raised his finger. “You owned the tavern, you can influence the way people think.”

  “But…” Rond placed his firm hand on his other arm. “I don’t think I can do it; I don’t have the gut to do it.”

  Wattyson rose to his feet, and placed a hand on his shoulder. His face was full of solemn. “I’m sorry… I really am. It’s the only way to protect your twin children, your wife, and this village… I don’t want to come back and… standing over your grave.”

  He placed another hand on him, “And… tell them the fabricated story, and remember Neciel and Elder as they were. A kind dutiful maid and a sweet grandma overseeing Tamare.”

  Rond struggled to wrestle, but relented. He let out a long sigh.

  Arlene couldn’t offer anything, simply nodded to letting her myths being used as a cover up. Even if she hated that idea but she let it go. The world of vampires or supernatural was way out of her depth. She could only rely on Wattyson for now.

  While the two men were discussing how to fabricate the story, Arlene backed out from the discussion. She wandered back to where Neciel was. Her eyes darted everywhere, scanning where she should’ve been. There had to be a body, or a sign.

  She soon found it. The blood soaked grass and dirt, a mix between Wattyson’s and Neciel’s. There were only ashes now. In her hand clutched closely near her breastplate was a few lilies.

  “You were kind, dutiful… and a bundle of joy” She kneeled beside the ash. “I only wish… I had known you more. Wish I had been there to help you…” her tears flowed.

  “Some Chosen One I am… what a joke.” She giggled to herself out of nervousness and response. “I’m sorry… I can only do this much.”

  Arlene placed the lilies near the ashes, a way to mark where she died. Afterward, she attempted to gather the ashes.

  She paced back to the garden, to where the two were still fabricating the story. She paid them no mind, hearing them trying to make a myth out of this situation, while she focused instead on going near where Grandma burned.

  She released the ashes out, the air carrying it over to the village below.

  “I hope… you’ll be with Grandma in death.”