Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned [Chapter 3]
Title: Monster Mash: Dance of the Damned 3
Characters: Francis, Toris, Feliks, Arthur, Matthew's coven
Rating: 15 for this chapter.
Warnings: Blood, vampirism, possession, implied abuse.
Summary: Sequel to Monster Mash. Memories restored, Francis goes looking for his lost love, in the hope she too is looking for him. Elsewhere, Arthur learns more in a few months than he has in 500 years. And behind all this, Alfred F. Jones, serial killer extraordinare, remains at large.
Francis blinked, and then grinned.
No psychic headache, no yelling voice in the back of his mind, no struggle at all. He appeared to have jumped into this body so quickly he’d rendered its owner unconscious. A quick skim off the top of the information pile revealed this wasn’t Feliks, which was disappointing. This was Toris Lorinaitis, and he was in the middle of feeding a tricorn, not a unicorn, as Francis had suspected. The white creature was looking at him from its stable, dark brown eyes following his movements. It was very aware of the fact this person was not who they were before. Francis reached out to pet it, but with a somewhat haughty snort, the horse turned and trotted away. Alright, fine. He heard they only liked virgins anyway.
Now he could see again, he found the nearest mirror and looked at what he was working with. Green-ish eyes, brown hair that went to his shoulders, quite feminine a face which would be easily mistaken for a girl with some make up, but on the other hand if this hair was shorter would clearly belong to a man. He raised his eyebrows, checked out the teeth. 20/20 vision, hearing’s fine, fit and healthy. He stretched his arms above his head and- ow.
Alright, he had some sort of injury - old, from the feel of the tight skin - on his back. Had to remember that. This was why Francis usually checked his targets before using them.
He sat down atop a stool. The barn was very spacious, part stable and part roost for a number of birds. He could spot two phoenix from here, possibly a mating pair. And that- was that a thunderbird? Either way, the Menagerie deserved its name. None of them seemed particularly interested in stopping him possessing young Toris, so he leaned his head against the wall and started sifting through the information in his mind.
Feliks, he needed to find Feliks.
The thought brought up the image of a blonde girl with green eyes and a bright, mischevious smile. Feliks was a girl? That question was immediately answered in negative. A school classroom flashed into view, Toris frozen in shock at the door, having walked in on Feliks - sans underwear and clearly male - changing for gym class. Feliks had then threatened something about feeding Toris to a dragon if he’d told anyone, which Toris promised he hadn’t and wouldn’t ever, despite doubting whether Feliks had a dragon or even a small lizard.
That brief look into Toris’ childhood over, Francis tried to find any other facts about Feliks. He was worried around strangers and only felt safe meeting them in his kitchen, or when Toris was about. He dressed like a girl because he liked girl’s clothes, nothing more. He could drink Toris under the table, but never woke up with a hangover. Once you got to know him past his shallow and selfish exterior, he was actually a very caring friend.
Toris clearly liked Feliks an awful lot, even with how exasperated the other boy made him half the time. It was endearing. But that wasn’t what he needed.
Feliks had inherited the Menagerie off his grandmother. He didn’t want to run it all alone, so he let Toris come help out. Toris needed the extra money because he and his mother were living out of a car, having run away from-
“Ow!” he helped, back suddenly aching. The old wound - wounds? - there were twinging uncomfortably, and Toris’ consciousness was stirring in his mind. Okay, avoiding Toris’ origins. Back to Feliks.
Feliks had his hands in both the world of the supernatural and the world of the humans. He was completely mortal himself, but his connections made him hard to kill. Francis was amazed by what Toris was witnessing. Within hours of each other, Feliks would buy information from a werewolf pack in exchange for the location of a safehouse, and then as soon as they left, sell unrelated but incredibly valuable information to two hunters who’d come knocking on his door. Was that even allowed?
Feliks was much more powerful than any man had right to be. Perhaps it was a good thing, then, that Francis had possessed his one and only best friend.
Taking that into consideration, Francis carefully shuffled around, and moved Toris’ consciousness to the front instead of his own. He didn’t much like backseat driving, but for Feliks to not catch on he was here, he would need Toris to act like Toris.
Green eyes fell shut, and Francis waited for the brunette to wake up. As he was considering poking him awake, Toris winced and blinked open his eyes. He sat up putting a hand to his head and groaning.
“Owch...” he muttered, standing and looking around. “What.... how did I end up over here?” Rather than dismiss it like many others would, he then looked around more carefully. He had at least the dregs of Sight, but nothing supernatural popped out at him immediately. He went over to the tricorn, looking through the window. “Illyad, what happened?”
He horse snorted at him too, not even deigning to look at him. Clearly he could still sense Francis there. Toris was concerned. Nervous, he left the stable wringing his hands. He was going to take Francis right to Feliks. Then, with luck, the ghost could jump over to the blonde, and get the information he wanted.
The little cottage was somewhat underwhelming, for something belonging to an information broker. Though they’d passed three fields with creatures Francis couldn’t even name in them but all with nasty teeth, there didn’t seem to be much secruity. Into the side of a hill there was a cave, probably built rather than formed naturally, and a great many trees on the other side of the hill. Sitting in the middle of the countryside like this, it didn’t seem all that outlandish to assume that an old woman or a farmer lived here. Ivy was growing up to the roof along the side of the house, the chimney stack was leaning a little to the left, and the tiles needed to be replaced. It was adorably homely. And the arguably most powerful man in the world lived in it.
Toris entered through the back door, which lead straight into the kitchen. It was decorated in pastel colours, cute little wooden cupboards and an awful lot of pink tableware adding to the effect that he’d just entered somewhere both very rustic and very feminine. It would probably unsettle a great many supernatural creatures and hunters alike to be in the presence of something so frilly.
“Toris, are you done?” came a call down the hallway. He even spoke like a girl.
“I need to talk to you!” Toris called back, nervousness in his tone. There was a thud from upstairs, and then a quick rumble of footsteps. Through the door that lead to the hallway, Francis could see Feliks jump the last two stairs and skid along the tiled floor to where Toris stood. His hair was up in pigtails and he was wearing a short, pink skirt. From the looks of things, he’d been in the middle of painting his nails, two of them hot pink while the rest untouched but manicured.
“Omigosh is something wrong with the ponies.” Feliks’ words came out in a panicked rush. Toris held his hands up defensively.
“No no! It’s not that.”
“The birdies?”
“No, I-”
Feliks sighed. “Well then what. You scared me for a second there.”
Toris looked behind him, and closed the door. “I thought I felt the presence of a ghost.” he whispered. Feliks’ eyebrows raised.
“Uhuh.”
“I was feeding Illyad, but then I passed out and woke up several feet away from where I was. I think I was possessed.” he frowned. “I’m alright, but I don’t know what happened while I was out.”
Feliks considered him. “What about Illyad?”
“He wouldn’t talk to me after I woke up...”
The blonde considered him, then shrugged with a smile. “Guess that means the ghost robbed you of your virginity then!”
“W-what?!” Toris yelped. Feliks burst into laughter.
“Ahaha oh man your face is like, hilarious oh my god.” He smacked Toris on the shoulder. “No way man, you were barely gone ten minutes. Besides which you know that virgin thing only works with unicorns not tricorns.”
Toris fumed a little internally, but gave up and sighed. “Yeah, of course. I knew that.”
“Sure you did. Okay, so, hold still a second.”
“Why?”
“Coz I can feel him still clinging to you like a gross undead insect and I’m gonna get him off.”
Francis recoiled. Oh merde-
There was a loud bang, and everything went dark.
---
Dinner was, as to be expected with a young coven, a messy affair.
After locating Jacques and Oswald, the two had gone to sit at opposite ends of the large table in the dining room. They were throwing each other heavy glares and tearing into their meals with gusto. Arthur, sitting at the head of the table, watched them with eyebrows raised. Mostly, the kids were being well behaved, but when one had a large male human spread-eagled on the table, blood was going to get everywhere and there was nothing to be done about that. Wise of Matthew to get laminated wood for his floor, then.
Matthew himself had come down, broken off a leg for himself, and left again back up the stairs to where the new girl was. Anne was chatting excitedly to Victoria about having another girl to play with, while Victoria seemed somewhat disinterested in the prospect. But Victoria seemed to be apathetic about a lot of things. Regina was listening with interest though, sitting half on the table to reach a jugular until Arthur had told her to mind her manners.
After all the kids had retrieved bloodcicles out of the fridge for desert (an ingenious idea, Arthur had to say) and Oswald had thrown the body outside into the forest for the wolves (the boy had a good throwing arm, the corpse went at least fifty feet), everyone split up to their respective pastimes. Anne and Regina read in the front room, which was cleaned up thanks to Edward and Albert, who themselves were playing some kind of video game that Arthur didn’t understand on a large television - one that wasn’t broken. Jacques had vanished again, Oswald was writing something in a book, possibly a diary, and Victoria had, in the end, wandered off to go see how Matthew was doing with their new covenmate.
This left Arthur rather at a loss. This would usually be when he and Matthew sat down for a chat over tea, but since the coven sire was busy, Athur was left wandering the house. And it was a decently sized house, not as big as his own was, but enough for a coven of this size. Each one had their own bedroom and there were still three more spare. Two bathrooms, another games room, plus the kitchen. It was in the middle of nowhere, and there was no road leading up to it. Passing by the trapdoor in the ceiling that lead to the attic, Arthur could see it was open, and a host of little black eyes peered back at him. The bats were relatively calm, which meant the kids were too. A good sign of a healthy coven.
He reached the end of the hall, and paused. Here was a door he’d not really been in before. It was Matthew’s office, he knew that much, but it’d been years since he’d visited. He wondered if it was still as tidy as before.
It was unlocked, so he opened it, and the first thing he noticed was that it was definitely not tidy at all. There was now a large bookcase that covered a whole wall, but several of the books were open on the desk. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, but didn’t touch them lest he mess up whatever Matthew was doing. What was he doing though... wandering hands picked up a book, keeping his thumb between the pages so he didn’t lose Matthew’s place, he checked the cover.
‘Vampirism and the Soul’ by Bram Stoker.
Bram Stoker? Where the hell had Matthew managed to get a volume of Bram bloody Stoker’s work! The other books went in a similar vein - Stoker, Callahan, Summers, Belmont - all vampire hunters writing of their understanding of a species they were determined to exterminate. Ignorant, the lot of them, as to what it really was to be a vampire. He was going to have words with Matthew...
His eye was caught by a small newspaper clipping sticking out of a book. He tried to remove it, but it was glued in. He opened it, and immediately froze.
Alfred was staring back at him.
No, wait, it wasn’t Alfred. Not Alfred Kirkland or Alfred Jones, but a man who looked incredibly similar to them, in 1890s attire, in front of the statue of liberty. He was smiling, relaxed and happy. His hair was a little too dark and his eyes were the wrong shape, but he could be Alfred’s son if it weren’t for... no.
Arthur pounced on the book, turning page after page. Alfred, Alfred, Alfred, different names and clothes and little differences to the face but it was so strong, the resemblance, it was uncanny and disturbing and most certainly unnatural. How did he keep appearing? Why in so many jobs? A construction worker, a landlord, a businessman, a thief, a sailor, a soldier, an outlaw. On the back page, finally, was Alfred F. Jones’ wanted picture, his stupid grinning face as he shouldered a baseball bat.
Matthew hadn’t given up on Alfred. Not even close.
Arthur’s heart was racing. While he’d been mourning the death of a vampire, Matthew had been tracking the life and descendants of a human, following Alfred’s outlandish hypothesis that vampires could be returned to human origin. Matthew had faith that his brother had succeeded. And from what Arthur was seeing, there was a large, plausible chance that he had.
After all that, Arthur was almost afraid to look at the last book on the desk. It appeared to be a photo album. This was a bit of a silly possession for a vampire to have. Thanks to the use of silver in film, the image of a vampire was rejected from the photograph, leaving an empty space. Alfred Jones, he recalled, had wondered if digital cameras would work, since they didn’t use film, but data. Arthur couldn’t claim to understand technology, but if Alfred said it would work, maybe it would.
Matthew’s album proved Alfred, once again, to be correct. An experimental photo of Regina was only slightly faded, and she grinned happily while holding up her first kill that she’d done on her own, or so the subtitle said. He flicked through a few more pictures, a few of them almost making him smile despite all the shocks he’d been through so far.
One picture almost slipped out of the book, and Arthur caught it to put it back, before noticing what the picture was of.
The vampire nearly dropped the photo album on the floor, eyes wide and disbelieving. He stepped back, hitting the bookshelf and jumping in surprise, using it as support for his suddenly weak and trembling legs.
“Impossible...” Arthur muttered to himself, slowly making his way back to the book to check what he’d seen wasn’t a hallucination. But it had to be, because if this was after the invention of the digital camera, then this photo meant that all the people in it were...
“... alive...”
Not all of his coven was dead.
Chapter 4
Notes:
- DUN. DUN. DUUUUUUUN.
- Place your bets, place your bets, who's in the picture! Those of you who have been keeping up with monster_au don't have to guess though. <3
Characters: Francis, Toris, Feliks, Arthur, Matthew's coven
Rating: 15 for this chapter.
Warnings: Blood, vampirism, possession, implied abuse.
Summary: Sequel to Monster Mash. Memories restored, Francis goes looking for his lost love, in the hope she too is looking for him. Elsewhere, Arthur learns more in a few months than he has in 500 years. And behind all this, Alfred F. Jones, serial killer extraordinare, remains at large.
Francis blinked, and then grinned.
No psychic headache, no yelling voice in the back of his mind, no struggle at all. He appeared to have jumped into this body so quickly he’d rendered its owner unconscious. A quick skim off the top of the information pile revealed this wasn’t Feliks, which was disappointing. This was Toris Lorinaitis, and he was in the middle of feeding a tricorn, not a unicorn, as Francis had suspected. The white creature was looking at him from its stable, dark brown eyes following his movements. It was very aware of the fact this person was not who they were before. Francis reached out to pet it, but with a somewhat haughty snort, the horse turned and trotted away. Alright, fine. He heard they only liked virgins anyway.
Now he could see again, he found the nearest mirror and looked at what he was working with. Green-ish eyes, brown hair that went to his shoulders, quite feminine a face which would be easily mistaken for a girl with some make up, but on the other hand if this hair was shorter would clearly belong to a man. He raised his eyebrows, checked out the teeth. 20/20 vision, hearing’s fine, fit and healthy. He stretched his arms above his head and- ow.
Alright, he had some sort of injury - old, from the feel of the tight skin - on his back. Had to remember that. This was why Francis usually checked his targets before using them.
He sat down atop a stool. The barn was very spacious, part stable and part roost for a number of birds. He could spot two phoenix from here, possibly a mating pair. And that- was that a thunderbird? Either way, the Menagerie deserved its name. None of them seemed particularly interested in stopping him possessing young Toris, so he leaned his head against the wall and started sifting through the information in his mind.
Feliks, he needed to find Feliks.
The thought brought up the image of a blonde girl with green eyes and a bright, mischevious smile. Feliks was a girl? That question was immediately answered in negative. A school classroom flashed into view, Toris frozen in shock at the door, having walked in on Feliks - sans underwear and clearly male - changing for gym class. Feliks had then threatened something about feeding Toris to a dragon if he’d told anyone, which Toris promised he hadn’t and wouldn’t ever, despite doubting whether Feliks had a dragon or even a small lizard.
That brief look into Toris’ childhood over, Francis tried to find any other facts about Feliks. He was worried around strangers and only felt safe meeting them in his kitchen, or when Toris was about. He dressed like a girl because he liked girl’s clothes, nothing more. He could drink Toris under the table, but never woke up with a hangover. Once you got to know him past his shallow and selfish exterior, he was actually a very caring friend.
Toris clearly liked Feliks an awful lot, even with how exasperated the other boy made him half the time. It was endearing. But that wasn’t what he needed.
Feliks had inherited the Menagerie off his grandmother. He didn’t want to run it all alone, so he let Toris come help out. Toris needed the extra money because he and his mother were living out of a car, having run away from-
“Ow!” he helped, back suddenly aching. The old wound - wounds? - there were twinging uncomfortably, and Toris’ consciousness was stirring in his mind. Okay, avoiding Toris’ origins. Back to Feliks.
Feliks had his hands in both the world of the supernatural and the world of the humans. He was completely mortal himself, but his connections made him hard to kill. Francis was amazed by what Toris was witnessing. Within hours of each other, Feliks would buy information from a werewolf pack in exchange for the location of a safehouse, and then as soon as they left, sell unrelated but incredibly valuable information to two hunters who’d come knocking on his door. Was that even allowed?
Feliks was much more powerful than any man had right to be. Perhaps it was a good thing, then, that Francis had possessed his one and only best friend.
Taking that into consideration, Francis carefully shuffled around, and moved Toris’ consciousness to the front instead of his own. He didn’t much like backseat driving, but for Feliks to not catch on he was here, he would need Toris to act like Toris.
Green eyes fell shut, and Francis waited for the brunette to wake up. As he was considering poking him awake, Toris winced and blinked open his eyes. He sat up putting a hand to his head and groaning.
“Owch...” he muttered, standing and looking around. “What.... how did I end up over here?” Rather than dismiss it like many others would, he then looked around more carefully. He had at least the dregs of Sight, but nothing supernatural popped out at him immediately. He went over to the tricorn, looking through the window. “Illyad, what happened?”
He horse snorted at him too, not even deigning to look at him. Clearly he could still sense Francis there. Toris was concerned. Nervous, he left the stable wringing his hands. He was going to take Francis right to Feliks. Then, with luck, the ghost could jump over to the blonde, and get the information he wanted.
The little cottage was somewhat underwhelming, for something belonging to an information broker. Though they’d passed three fields with creatures Francis couldn’t even name in them but all with nasty teeth, there didn’t seem to be much secruity. Into the side of a hill there was a cave, probably built rather than formed naturally, and a great many trees on the other side of the hill. Sitting in the middle of the countryside like this, it didn’t seem all that outlandish to assume that an old woman or a farmer lived here. Ivy was growing up to the roof along the side of the house, the chimney stack was leaning a little to the left, and the tiles needed to be replaced. It was adorably homely. And the arguably most powerful man in the world lived in it.
Toris entered through the back door, which lead straight into the kitchen. It was decorated in pastel colours, cute little wooden cupboards and an awful lot of pink tableware adding to the effect that he’d just entered somewhere both very rustic and very feminine. It would probably unsettle a great many supernatural creatures and hunters alike to be in the presence of something so frilly.
“Toris, are you done?” came a call down the hallway. He even spoke like a girl.
“I need to talk to you!” Toris called back, nervousness in his tone. There was a thud from upstairs, and then a quick rumble of footsteps. Through the door that lead to the hallway, Francis could see Feliks jump the last two stairs and skid along the tiled floor to where Toris stood. His hair was up in pigtails and he was wearing a short, pink skirt. From the looks of things, he’d been in the middle of painting his nails, two of them hot pink while the rest untouched but manicured.
“Omigosh is something wrong with the ponies.” Feliks’ words came out in a panicked rush. Toris held his hands up defensively.
“No no! It’s not that.”
“The birdies?”
“No, I-”
Feliks sighed. “Well then what. You scared me for a second there.”
Toris looked behind him, and closed the door. “I thought I felt the presence of a ghost.” he whispered. Feliks’ eyebrows raised.
“Uhuh.”
“I was feeding Illyad, but then I passed out and woke up several feet away from where I was. I think I was possessed.” he frowned. “I’m alright, but I don’t know what happened while I was out.”
Feliks considered him. “What about Illyad?”
“He wouldn’t talk to me after I woke up...”
The blonde considered him, then shrugged with a smile. “Guess that means the ghost robbed you of your virginity then!”
“W-what?!” Toris yelped. Feliks burst into laughter.
“Ahaha oh man your face is like, hilarious oh my god.” He smacked Toris on the shoulder. “No way man, you were barely gone ten minutes. Besides which you know that virgin thing only works with unicorns not tricorns.”
Toris fumed a little internally, but gave up and sighed. “Yeah, of course. I knew that.”
“Sure you did. Okay, so, hold still a second.”
“Why?”
“Coz I can feel him still clinging to you like a gross undead insect and I’m gonna get him off.”
Francis recoiled. Oh merde-
There was a loud bang, and everything went dark.
---
Dinner was, as to be expected with a young coven, a messy affair.
After locating Jacques and Oswald, the two had gone to sit at opposite ends of the large table in the dining room. They were throwing each other heavy glares and tearing into their meals with gusto. Arthur, sitting at the head of the table, watched them with eyebrows raised. Mostly, the kids were being well behaved, but when one had a large male human spread-eagled on the table, blood was going to get everywhere and there was nothing to be done about that. Wise of Matthew to get laminated wood for his floor, then.
Matthew himself had come down, broken off a leg for himself, and left again back up the stairs to where the new girl was. Anne was chatting excitedly to Victoria about having another girl to play with, while Victoria seemed somewhat disinterested in the prospect. But Victoria seemed to be apathetic about a lot of things. Regina was listening with interest though, sitting half on the table to reach a jugular until Arthur had told her to mind her manners.
After all the kids had retrieved bloodcicles out of the fridge for desert (an ingenious idea, Arthur had to say) and Oswald had thrown the body outside into the forest for the wolves (the boy had a good throwing arm, the corpse went at least fifty feet), everyone split up to their respective pastimes. Anne and Regina read in the front room, which was cleaned up thanks to Edward and Albert, who themselves were playing some kind of video game that Arthur didn’t understand on a large television - one that wasn’t broken. Jacques had vanished again, Oswald was writing something in a book, possibly a diary, and Victoria had, in the end, wandered off to go see how Matthew was doing with their new covenmate.
This left Arthur rather at a loss. This would usually be when he and Matthew sat down for a chat over tea, but since the coven sire was busy, Athur was left wandering the house. And it was a decently sized house, not as big as his own was, but enough for a coven of this size. Each one had their own bedroom and there were still three more spare. Two bathrooms, another games room, plus the kitchen. It was in the middle of nowhere, and there was no road leading up to it. Passing by the trapdoor in the ceiling that lead to the attic, Arthur could see it was open, and a host of little black eyes peered back at him. The bats were relatively calm, which meant the kids were too. A good sign of a healthy coven.
He reached the end of the hall, and paused. Here was a door he’d not really been in before. It was Matthew’s office, he knew that much, but it’d been years since he’d visited. He wondered if it was still as tidy as before.
It was unlocked, so he opened it, and the first thing he noticed was that it was definitely not tidy at all. There was now a large bookcase that covered a whole wall, but several of the books were open on the desk. He clicked his tongue disapprovingly, but didn’t touch them lest he mess up whatever Matthew was doing. What was he doing though... wandering hands picked up a book, keeping his thumb between the pages so he didn’t lose Matthew’s place, he checked the cover.
‘Vampirism and the Soul’ by Bram Stoker.
Bram Stoker? Where the hell had Matthew managed to get a volume of Bram bloody Stoker’s work! The other books went in a similar vein - Stoker, Callahan, Summers, Belmont - all vampire hunters writing of their understanding of a species they were determined to exterminate. Ignorant, the lot of them, as to what it really was to be a vampire. He was going to have words with Matthew...
His eye was caught by a small newspaper clipping sticking out of a book. He tried to remove it, but it was glued in. He opened it, and immediately froze.
Alfred was staring back at him.
No, wait, it wasn’t Alfred. Not Alfred Kirkland or Alfred Jones, but a man who looked incredibly similar to them, in 1890s attire, in front of the statue of liberty. He was smiling, relaxed and happy. His hair was a little too dark and his eyes were the wrong shape, but he could be Alfred’s son if it weren’t for... no.
Arthur pounced on the book, turning page after page. Alfred, Alfred, Alfred, different names and clothes and little differences to the face but it was so strong, the resemblance, it was uncanny and disturbing and most certainly unnatural. How did he keep appearing? Why in so many jobs? A construction worker, a landlord, a businessman, a thief, a sailor, a soldier, an outlaw. On the back page, finally, was Alfred F. Jones’ wanted picture, his stupid grinning face as he shouldered a baseball bat.
Matthew hadn’t given up on Alfred. Not even close.
Arthur’s heart was racing. While he’d been mourning the death of a vampire, Matthew had been tracking the life and descendants of a human, following Alfred’s outlandish hypothesis that vampires could be returned to human origin. Matthew had faith that his brother had succeeded. And from what Arthur was seeing, there was a large, plausible chance that he had.
After all that, Arthur was almost afraid to look at the last book on the desk. It appeared to be a photo album. This was a bit of a silly possession for a vampire to have. Thanks to the use of silver in film, the image of a vampire was rejected from the photograph, leaving an empty space. Alfred Jones, he recalled, had wondered if digital cameras would work, since they didn’t use film, but data. Arthur couldn’t claim to understand technology, but if Alfred said it would work, maybe it would.
Matthew’s album proved Alfred, once again, to be correct. An experimental photo of Regina was only slightly faded, and she grinned happily while holding up her first kill that she’d done on her own, or so the subtitle said. He flicked through a few more pictures, a few of them almost making him smile despite all the shocks he’d been through so far.
One picture almost slipped out of the book, and Arthur caught it to put it back, before noticing what the picture was of.
The vampire nearly dropped the photo album on the floor, eyes wide and disbelieving. He stepped back, hitting the bookshelf and jumping in surprise, using it as support for his suddenly weak and trembling legs.
“Impossible...” Arthur muttered to himself, slowly making his way back to the book to check what he’d seen wasn’t a hallucination. But it had to be, because if this was after the invention of the digital camera, then this photo meant that all the people in it were...
“... alive...”
Not all of his coven was dead.
Chapter 4
Notes:
- DUN. DUN. DUUUUUUUN.
- Place your bets, place your bets, who's in the picture! Those of you who have been keeping up with monster_au don't have to guess though. <3