NoHoper Ch 12 - Examined
Tentative Title: No-Hoper
Full Summary: Merely a test-subject and researcher for the anti-Vampyre drug Denyxinil, a No-Hoper in the grand scheme, all that changes when he is Marked and forced to live among those he despises most. No identified pairings so far, takes place somewhere around a canon-changed 'Untamed'. Expect pride and a lot of prejudice.
Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note, nor do I own the House of Night series, or the various mentions to various other products of modern and post-modern Western culture. Let me warn you that, while I'm sure the Casts' way of doing things works very well for them, I took the liberty to take what I hated about the series' narration and change it to suit my tastes. So just expect some changes to things, like narrative style and the competency of character development.
Ever read a vampire story and thought, where is the plot? If that’s happened to you, and that’s what you were thinking, you were probably reading House of Night… probably.
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Chapter XII
Examined
The rain came down heavy as I ran at speed down S. Yorktown Avenue. The shopping bags held to my chest, the muscles in my legs burning from the effort, the rain drops stung at my skin, hitting like bullets and soaking my hair through. My shades fared no better, the water marring the already limited vision, and so, still on the move, I pulled them off and stuffed them into the messenger bag slung at my shoulder, thankful that the cloud cover had hidden the worst of the sun from view. It was cold and biting, but not as I’d expected: It was a dim shadow of the last cold day I’d experienced, a cold that should have been amplified after the warmth of the coffee house before.
I should have known that this new physiology would lend something of itself to me soon.
I gritted my teeth against the thought and picked up a faster pace, lowering my head against the rain, the water dripping down and parting streams through my hair. Why should I accept this idea, I mean, wholly accept it? Accept that I could benefit in any part from becoming that which takes pleasure in the kill, that which feasts upon the blood, upon the very soul, of humans?
Even to accept that I was in any part one of them, let alone benefitting from it all was heresy in itself, a slap in the face to our very creation, to our very existence.
But… what about last night? What about that?
That was a point to be made. If vampyres were monsters, and fledglings were monsters also, where did it leave the humans? What did it say about last night? At the Ritual, watching as every vampyre at the House gave their own sophisticated religious display, showcasing the product of thousands of years of a society safely isolated from human influence, worshipping a benevolent goddess with magick no human has ever wielded or received since the birth of Christ?
Even these monsters were once humans. If they can show more love in their ways than humans have ever extended to one another before, then…
I shook away the thought. I didn’t want it to finish. Of course vampyres are monsters! They are but a savage apparition of the real humans on this Earth! Yet, if all this is true, then…
Then humans should be destroyed, and let it never be said that we didn’t deserve it.
When I looked up, I was rushing by the Temple Israel, watching as the resident Rabbi came out into the cold, his skullcap the only protection his head was receiving from the rain. I thought I heard him shout, warn me about slowing down, but I was out of earshot, running as fast as I was able down the tree-lined avenue, ignoring him in favour of my own thoughts.
I ran further and further, not letting myself stop to drown where I stood, half-unable to believe the speed at which the rain clouds had covered a once blue sky, the speed at which they’d burst forth on the living.
Sooner than I’d expected, I was at the East Wall, the rain falling harder than ever upon me. The rope was still hanging from the overhanging tree branch on my side of the wall, the knotted end about a foot from the ground.
I knelt down beside it, folding the shopping bags to stuff them and their contents inside the new messenger bag, freeing my arms for the climb. I looked from the corner of my eyes over to the left to the main gate… It was still guarded by Sons of Erebus Warriors. Taking hold of the rope, I jumped and began climbing, gripping as hard as I could at the softened rope with each pull-up, trying not to make a sound with the effort, pushing up with a striding motion of the legs. I climbed swiftly, grabbing at the rope higher and higher, removing the lower hand off the rope before it could slip.
Hands wet and threatening to let me drop, I found my hand grabbing hold of the branch above, the top of the wall at level with my hips as I found myself suspended by one hand. The climb had been easier than I’d ever dared to think, and now I was so close to swinging into the tree and onto the House-side of the wall.
But, as we all learn, nothing is ever that simple. Ever.
The water had not only softened the rope, but the wood within my grasp. With a lurch, the wall seemed to rise, coming up to level with my navel, then my waist. I looked up. Oh no… As it transpired, as a sixteen year old male weighing just under 110 pounds, and at just about 5 foot 7 inches in height, I was far too heavy to be hanging relatively unsupported from a wet branch thinner than my forearm.
And so it began to bend, and I began to slip, my fingers sliding towards the end.
Don’t you dare. I wanted to scream at the oak, demand answers from it, work out what I’d ever done to the tree to deserve such betrayal, why it was threatening to dump me right into the very fatally capable hands of the Warriors. Don’t you soften on me! Dry up!
That command, that yelling thought seemed to spark something. Without warning, a familiar surging sensation coursed down my arm and through my fingers as I tightened my grip around the wood, taking hold with my free hand. The sensation took hold of the other arm as well, and before my eyes, the bark of the branch began to dry up, along with - and I didn’t know then how I knew - the wood within.
The branch ceased to bend, hardening as though sundried, dehydrating from the outside-in. Even the rain still pouring down seemed to have no effect as the branch began to straighten up to its original angle, pulling me up with it.
No… way. Don’t tell me that’s… How?
Suddenly, a creak. A brittle crack within the wood as it began to break. I tried to swing to the wall, but too late - a clean break. I fell to the ground, hitting it with a clear smack against the sidewalk below, barely a chance to draw breath. I nearly blacked out. Thankfully, I didn’t, the rain on my face keeping me out of the white light.
Someone dragged me up onto my feet again, large hands holding me under my arms and peeling me right off the sidewalk. “Are you all right?” That voice was familiar: Darius. Nodding, I watched as he picked my bag off the ground, pointedly ignoring the length of rope lying beside it with the branch still attached. He passed the bag to me and I put it back over my shoulder as he led me to the front gate, frog-marching me there. I had no choice. He wasn’t going to let me pass unnoticed. The jig was, as they say, up.
Taking me into the grounds and up to the main door, he smiled. “I do not know how you got out, but I will not tell Neferet as long as you go straight to your dormitory. Your classes will not be starting for a while, so get some rest.” With that, the Warrior turned and returned to his post at the gate, leaving me very much alone. I was inside the grounds now, but considerably wetter than when I’d first left, perhaps even muddy to boot.
… Yes, there was mud, along with dark scuffs on the backside of my jeans and on my knees. I really should have known better than to go out dressed in white, considering the unpredictable nature of Tulsa weather. I’d have to blame my time locked up inside the Research Facility I suppose, not that it’d do me any good in the long run.
Now that I was back inside the grounds of the House of Night, I felt… refreshed, as though the sprint down S. Yorktown Avenue had never occurred, as though I could do all that and more without a thought, without trouble.
The rain came down harder now, and I blinked away the thoughts. The feeling of safety, of comfort ebbing, I ran to the Boys’ Dormitory, to the only shelter available on these God-forsaken grounds.
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By the time I entered the dormitory to find myself wrapped in the warmth, a few fledgling boys were already awake now, their numbers concentrated in the kitchen extension. Only one other was anywhere different, sat down on a sofa with a television all to himself, flicking through channels to his heart’s content. While they all looked up to stare at me as I came in from the rain, they didn’t do anything more than that, preferring to glare at me and say nothing rather than kick up a fuss and deal with me head on.
What cowards.
I walked right past them, not even seeing them or acknowledging their existence as I made my way to the corridor in the back, and along it to the sky-blue door. Entering without knocking, I found Jack sitting on his bed and tying up his sneakers, already dressed in his school uniform. “Good morning!” he trilled, grinning as I shut the door behind me. “You’re hot today, steaming!”
I rolled my eyes at him, putting my bag on the floor next to my bed while it dried out. With a gay roommate like Jack, who would’ve been fluent in the ancient language of Polari were he born in the right time and place, I could only expect it. “Ha, ha, ha,” I said, my lips upturning along with my sarcasm.
“Just because you want me.”
Jack shook his head, laughing, “In your dreams, Madame Butterfly! As nice as it would be to have you on the team with Damien and me, Shaunee would kill me first!”
‘As nice as it would be’… Does he really mean that? Me, a lover for either of them, much less at the same time? Surely, he’d eat me first.
He shook his head again. “Nah, but you really are steaming.”
I looked down at my clothes then, to see wisps of steam rolling off them and my skin, the clothes practically drying before my eyes amidst that constant inner-sensation of warmth. I stroked the fabric of the shirt. It was drying, barely even damp, the product of drizzle rather than monsoon falls. “That’s odd,” I whispered, “it was raining heavily outside on the way back. It still was when I came in.”
“Really? It was warm and sunny earlier, right?”
“Yeah,” I wiped my hand across my forehead, before inspecting the fingertips. There was nothing on them. “I bet the rain’s washed the concealer off.” I walked into the bathroom at that, to look at it in the medicine cabinet mirror. Yes, the Mark, filled-in and blue, was as plain as daylight on my forehead, not a trace of the makeup left. Hastily, I brushed my fringe back over it, ignoring the way my hair looked as though it was drenched in fresh blood. I emerged out of the bathroom again. “It has.”
“Good,” Jack said, “The first time I used it, it was murder scraping it off. What did I learn? Never leave the House without a good pack of makeup wipes!”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I bent down to look at the stains on the knees of my white skinny jeans, rubbing at the dirt and watching as it flaked and came off like dust, coming clean easily. I smiled at the image, even as I was gripped with the sudden urge to take a picture of the miracle, just to prove my Obsessions wrong.
Turning back to the messenger bag, I began unpacking the shopping bags, picking out the American Eagle bag and handing it over to Jack. “I got this for you while I was out.”
“Woah, really?” The crumbling, sounds of the shopping bag, and then a gasp of surprise. “Ohmigod” This is gorgeous!” I looked over to the blond to see him holding up the gift: A light blue sweater. It was simple, but something I was sure he’d like - it looked like the kind of thing, at least.
“Do you like it?” I asked.
“You bet!” He held it up to himself, giving a cautionary twirl around the room. “What do you think?”
I smiled. “It matches your eyes.”
“I know, right? I’m so gonna wear this the first chance I get! Damien would be so jealous - he’s not gotten me anything since last Yuletide-” he paused, his head tilted in thought. “Wait,” he began, his voice subdued, concerned, “you aren’t trying to seduce me, are you? Because I’m totally with Damien, you know-”
It was my turn to interrupt him now. “No, it’s not like that.” I kept my voice light, unmarked by the absurd idea of me even liking him in that way. “I’m apologizing for yesterday. I’m really sorry; I won’t do that to you again.”
“You mean that?” Jack asked, his voice a whisper.
“Yeah. That was awful - no, stupid - of me. Will you forgive me?”
Jack grinned, refilled with good nature. “Of course. We’re friends, right? Besides, I’ve not gotten to know you properly yet. I’m sure you’re a great person deep… well, deep, deep inside!”
“Thanks,” I returned his smile. “I’d much rather be friends with my roommate than ignored by him all the time.”
Typical. He must’ve accepted the apology because I bought him off with a sweater. I suppose he’d much rather be friends with a good apologiser than an impetuous meal. I’ll let him off for now, if just for conveniences’ sake.
There was a gentle knock upon the door, and jack bade entry. The door opened, and a head of soaked, disarrayed salt-and-pepper hair appeared, along with a pair of glasses and cautious look. His trousers and jacket were dark grey; his shirt was white and his waistcoat and tie matched: Both were a light grey with silver brocade. All of his clothes were drenched in rainfall. In one hand, he held a travel bag that he wheeled behind him; in the other, a leather hand-bag.
The Old English gent, this Van Helsing was Doctor G Primrose, unmistakably so. “Hey,” he said, breaking into a smile set above a chiselled jaw covered with stubble. “How’re you holding up?”
I couldn’t help but smile at my old colleague, standing up to offer a human handshake. “I’m fine, thanks.” It seemed such a long time since I’d seen him last. Had it really been one day? I might have given the man a hug, had he not been soaked to the skin, and Jack been present and blushing.
“Did you get here alright?” I asked.
“Yes, yes, absolutely fine.” He replied. “It started pissing it down on the drive over, and I’d chosen today to lose my umbrella only God-knows-where. It was my fault for forgetting that London and Tulsa weather are one and the same, so no hard feelings there. The High Priestess tried to kick up a fuss over a human visitor, but she soon calmed down when I reminded her that I had your best interests at heart. I told her she could play Professor X all she likes before I go, so she wouldn’t have to wait downstairs.”
Jack stared at him, blushing harder. “Light?” he asked. “Who is this guy? And what’s ‘pissing’?”
I stifled a laugh, just for the sake of being polite. “Jack Twist, this is Doctor G Primrose. He’s an old friend of mine. He’s brought some of my things for me.” I motioned to the travel bag. “I’ve got an appointment with him as well.”
“As for the ‘pissing’,” supplied Primrose, “it means that it’s raining harder than the Indian Monsoon season out there, son, and no word of polite English is appropriate enough to describe it.” He smiled, offering his hand to Jack. Jack shook it, a puzzled look on his face for the use of a hands-only handshake. “I was born and raised in London, England, so forgive the slang.”
“As well as the style?” I jibed, looking him up and down pointedly.
“At least I didn’t lose my good sense and decide to dress all in white today!”
“Well, I can get away with it, while you just look like an old man.”
“The cheek!” he exclaimed, “Calling a young 20-something year old like me ‘old man’! Have you no respect for your elders?”
“Oh, negating your statements already? You should run for Prime Minister!” We both laughed at that, and Jack just stared, looking uncomfortable. I toned down my laughter to a smile, and Primrose took that as the signal to do the same. The fledgling wasn’t used to these back-and-forths, nor would he understand the playfulness in our insults, that this one-upmanship was only play.
“Sorry,” Primrose said, “I don’t know I’m doing it, half the time.” He wheeled the travel bag to stand by my bed and placed the leather bag upon it. Kneeling by it, he opening it up to reveal various pieces of medical equipment, his ‘staple tools’ as he referred to them five years ago, as he taught me how to use each one. “Where do you want to set up? The chair, the bed? I’m fine with either one.” He was all-business now, and I acknowledged the explication.
“The chair will be fine.” I pulled the chair out from against my desk, turning it round to face the door.
Jack gulped, and I turned to him. He was sitting on his bed with his knees up to his chest, holding them as he stared at the door. “Are you going to…?” He asked, eyes wide.
“Oh, sorry.” I said. “I’ve got an appointment with Dr Primrose right now, so do you mind just leaving for a little while?”
“But… are you gonna… you know?”
I sighed, rolling my eyes at the insinuation. “It’s nothing like that, just a check-up, like at the G.Ps.”
“G… P?” Now he was really confused.
“You know,” I said. I didn’t bother to answer the question. “Damien might be awake now, if you want to go and say ‘good morning’ to him.”
“Okay.” He perked up a little at that, looking almost relieved. “But what if he’s still asleep?”
“Then you’ll be the first thing he sees when he wakes up. Instant romance.”
He definitely perked up at that, and he unfolded himself off the bed, making for the door and giving a hasty “See you later!” as he left, closing it behind him.
I turned back to Primrose to find him cluttering my desk with his equipment, and I fought the urge to put them back in his bag for the pure sake of neatness, sitting myself down in my chair instead, waiting for him to finish. His stethoscope around his neck, he turned to face me when he finished. I grabbed hold of him by the collar, pulling him down to within inches of my own face, focussing on the Fire as I gripped tightly.
“Wait, what-?” Steam billowed off him thick and fast, and I let go, watching as the steam dissipated, the lenses of his glasses clouding up, and he felt at his clothes, unsure of what to think. “They’re,” he began, a confused expression finding itself upon his face, “they’re dry, bone dry. How did you do that?”
I gave a sigh, sitting back in my chair. “I’m not sure. I did it unconsciously only ten minutes ago, so I thought I could do the same on someone else with conscious effort.”
“Incredible,” he muttered, taking off the suit jacket and hanging it on the back of the chair, feeling at the waist to find it equally dry. “Do you think it’s the Denyxinil?”
“I don’t think so,” I answered. “I doubt a drug like that could cause affinities like that one. If we believe the fledglings here, then Nyx is the sole provider of any gift.”
“But do you think the drug could’ve heightened the possibility of developing affinities, like it affected the Marking of the others?”
“I suppose so. I think it has something to do with this as well.” I took a hold of a strand of my red hair between my fingers. “None of the other No-Hopers lived for this long after taking the drug, so we should assume that this is either an effect from the particular strain, or a timed effect - something that would have happened, had they lived long enough.”
Primrose nodded. “We thought it might have something to do with this particular formula, but it’s still very similar, if not the same as the previous one. So far, the only conclusion we’ve come to is that it’s not the drug, but the patient - in other words, the drug isn’t the variable this time, but you.”
I sighed, shaking my head as I held out my wrist. “That can’t be right.” He took hold of it, and began taking my pulse, measuring with his wristwatch, “That’s just unscientific, not to mention idiotic. If that were true, you’d be suggesting that either I have something none of the others had, or I am something the others weren’t.”
“Yes, but therein lies the problem: We don’t know what that is, and we’d need a battery of extensive tests just to figure it out.”
I nodded in agreement as he began taking my blood pressure, “We have to start those as soon as possible. You can take a blood sample from me today, if you can, and the moment we know what we’re dealing with, we start narrowing down possibilities. We need to find another volunteer who is as biologically close to me as it’s possible to be without actually being me. He has to be male, 16 years old, and possess the same stats as regards to height, weight, and muscle mass. He should even be Japanese, too-”
“No.” He cut me off.
“Oh, so ethnicity shouldn’t be an issue in this test? Fine, then that’s not important-”
“No, I mean, we’re not doing tests.”
“Not doing tests?” I looked over to him, incredulous, “But we’ve come so far now, we can’t stop-”
“We have to.” He said. “We’ve done enough damage as it is. We’ve killed, Light, and that wasn’t what we set out to do.”
“Killed?” I asked. “We haven’t killed anyone. We manufactured the drug that killed them, but we didn’t kill. We were - and are - working for the ADON project.”
“Are you even listening to yourself? We gave them all a drug, and all of them died. They were called No-Hopers for a reason, and that reason is us.”
“They didn’t all die,” I reminded him stiffly, “I’m alive, and I had as little hope as any of them of surviving.”
“You,” Primrose said, glaring up at me, “are the exception that proves the rule. The reason you are still alive is above and beyond what we call Science, I’m sure of it.”
“Are you saying it’s the vampyres’ fault I’m still alive?”
The doctor sighed. “Yes. They and their goddess have every reason to be pissed off with us, including the No-Hopers.” He paused, his words hanging in the air between us, “However, for some reason, and I bet it’s their goddess’ doing, if she does exist, you’re being kept alive. It may be DNA that allows humans to start the Change to Vampyrehood, but it’s even more the soul and spirit that keeps you on that path, or allows you to drop off it.”
It was my turn to glare. “Don’t tell me you believe in this religion of theirs. Do you really think that their Almighty Nyx has something to do with why I’m alive?”
“I’m a scientist, remember? If there’s anything we Scientists have in common, it’s a mind open to new ideas, and right now I’m sure that their goddess is the end-all and be-all of this.
“When we made the Denyxinil and gave it to those No-Hopers, the opposite of what we wanted happened every time: They all ended up marked within hours after, instead of the drug preventing it. If I’m right, then the drug accelerated the process instead, and that’s why they died - they couldn’t get here in time, and the drug made their systems too fragile to deal with it, so their bodies rejected the Change instantaneously.
“While you’ve survived that first stage, I don’t think you’re in the clear, not by a long-shot. I know a lot about vampyres, and I’ve studied everything on them from their physiology to their theology, and while their goddess may allow Free Will, she’ll be damned if she doesn’t make us feel the consequences before we’re done.”
“So you’re saying that I’m only alive for some ‘Great Plan’ She has for me.” It was a statement, not a question, and he knew it. “I’m alive because I’m some plaything for bloodsuckers.”
“We can’t rule that out, but right now, we need to focus on something less metaphysical, like you. You’ve survived the Marking and you’re in a House of Night, but you could still have the drug in your system, and as long as it’s there, its anti-vampyre properties could kick in and do to you what it did to the others. While their goddess has got an influence, she’ll be setting you up for a bigger fall than the others - I’m sure of that. In the meantime, we have to keep you healthy and make sure your body doesn’t reject the Change any time soon - the healthier you are, the longer you’ll last.”
“I see,” I answered, “but I did try to purge my system of the drug the night before, on the night I came here.”
“With salt and water?”
“Yes. Had I access to any of the equipment back at the lab, I’d know if it worked.”
“Or I could take the blood sample now and keep you posted on the tests. That would be the best solution. I’ll start coming here regularly, to keep a check on you, and keep you updated on what you’ve missed so far at the lab.”
“You mean, after I fell unconscious?”
“So you don’t remember what happened, do you?”
“No,” I answered, “but that’s why you’ll tell me.”
He sighed, and paused in thought for a moment. “After you were given the Denyxinil, you were taken back to your room, right? And about an hour later, a Tracker came in however they do and you were Marked.”
I nodded. “I remember that part quite clearly: There was a lot of pain involved, and I blanked out after I fell.”
He nodded, and turned back to his bag, taking out a syringe. Taking the cap off the hypodermic needle, he inspected it. “But that wasn’t all that happened: An hour after giving you the drug, we heard screaming and ran to your room, expecting that you were exsanguinating in the manner of the others, but, when we came in, you were stood up and about ready to attack us.”
“Attack?”
“Yes. You were delirious, most definitely - you were speaking in Japanese, but the tone did sound threatening. Dr Summers tried to calm you down, but then, well…”
“Well, what?”
“You lashed out at her, and she hit her head when she fell. You went for all of us, actually. We had to sedate you before we could get you anywhere near the House of Night.”
I looked away, ashamed of myself. Had I really been that quick to become a monster? “I see.” Suddenly, he stabbed my thumb with the needle, and I sucked in air, unable to watch as he drew out blood and took it out again, storing the sample safely in his bag.
“I don’t know why you reacted as you did, but you didn’t die, which is the main thing, and we’ve got to keep you healthy if we want it to stay that way. For one thing, we need to make sure you eat properly and exercise regularly - thanks to the drug, your homeostasis will be much more delicate than the other fledglings here, so you’ve got to keep an extra careful watch on your intake. What have you eaten so far?”
I shrugged. “Not much, to be honest - the saline solution made me vomit, so I only had that the first night. After that, I’ve only had some black coffee, a bowl of cereal, and…” I had to think back to last night. Did I eat anything of that salad for lunch, or did I really just play with it like that?
“That’s it?” Primrose asked. “A bowl of cereal and some coffee? Did you have anything while you were out today?”
“Just a large Americano.”
“Just?” he sighed, shaking his head. “While I can’t fault you for your coffee intake - the Good Lord knows your blood pressure is low enough to warrant coffee as a necessity - you can’t go on with that little food! The House of Night will have you exercising every day to keep you fit, and if you don’t match that in calories, you’ll lose too much weight, and before we know it, you’ll be dead and the project will end with not even one survivor!”
“End? What do you mean, ‘end’? We’ve just got started, and you think we can end it just like that?”
“Haven’t you been listening? We’ve killed so many children with that drug, and you nearly ended up the same! The vampyres would kill us if they found out, and I for one want this to end now!”
“But-”
“Don’t argue, you know it’s true. We’ll see the project through to your outcome, but that’s it. Whether you die or Change, we’ll end it with you. You can have the results of our research so far, but that’s all you’re getting - the last of our funding will go to a local charity on behalf of the vampyres.”
My expression hardened. Right there and then, I wanted to kill that great man. I wanted him dead just for hinting at betrayal. “And if I die?”
“Dr Summers will get the research.”
“So you’re giving up.” I spat the words, my hands clenched in fists.
“Listen, please, will you? I have to! I’m a scientist, Light, and the last time I checked, we scientists were for the good of humanity, not its senseless destruction! All those children died because of all this. You nearly died because of all this - and you still could - and all your intelligence would’ve been wasted. With your brains, you could single-handedly do what we scientists have only been able to do over centuries of hard work and effort. All that, wasted because I insisted on wiping out the only threat humans could possibly face from nature.”
“Well, it won’t be wasted, because the moment I can, I’m continuing the research. I’ll continue the project, and lead it!”
“What?! It’s madness! Are you planning to kill others? Why does it matter? We tried and we failed, deal with it - just don’t make the same mistake again.”
I stood up. I just couldn’t contain myself any longer. “I won’t be making a mistake! You just told me yourself: I could do this single-handedly! I could purge us of vampyres, I will, and you can’t stop me.”
“No, Light-”
“I’m not a failure, not like you! You may have lost out to vampyres over and over again, you may be used to it, but I’m not! I won’t lose out, not twice! I’m going to reopen the project, and if you, or Summers, or anyone else tries to stop me, I’ll make sure you’ll be killed personally!”
He took a step back, edging closer for the door. “You… you’d kill me?”
I nearly flinched at that look of fear he gave me, but I didn’t let it show, not now. “Yes. I’d tell the vampyres about your terrorism, and they will kill you. And, with so many around right now, you can’t believe I’m bluffing, now can you?”
He put a hand to his head, staring at me with shock. ‘How did you know? Are you reading my mind?’… That’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?
“You can leave now.” I clarified. “You’ve done all you can here, you’re not going to persuade me otherwise, at least not tonight.”
He sighed, and his shoulders slumped. Picking up his leather bag, he pulled a black object out of it, and threw it onto my desk. “Use that to record your symptoms. You feel anything odd, write it in that; you eat anything, write it in that; you get especially involved with the vampyres, write it in that. Please use it, or we’ll have nothing for the research later, and we won’t have anything to go on if something goes wrong.
“Have a good day at school.” With that, he took his leave, slamming the door shut behind him. Feeling more than hearing his footsteps dim and walk away, I moved over to the desk, picking up the doctor’s parting gift.
It was the Death Note. The notebook given to every No-Hoper upon taking Denyxinil. What was more, it wasn’t going to remain blank, as it had in the hands of No-Hopers before me:
No, this Death Note was going to know Ink. It was going to be used.
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So, the plot thickens! Now that you’ve read this, you can see why that pointless-seeming prologue at the beginning was there - or at least, I hope so. I have to admit though, this wasn’t my favourite chapter to write, I’m actually quite glad to see it over and done with, if I’m being honest. What’s more, I really don’t have much to say here, which is just rubbing it in. All I really want to say is that the geography of the House of Night and the surrounding area were figured out using Google Maps, so thank you government spies for that.
As for the issue of capitalising pronoun pertaining to Nyx, they are capitalised when used by vampyres/fledglings (e.g. Damien and Light) because of their position as Nyx’s children and because they have at least some measure of belief in Her (yes, even Light by this point). They aren’t capitalised for Dr Primrose because he is human, and although he has done research on Nyx, he’s a Christian (probably a British Protestant (and there is a difference between a British protestant and an American one, besides the obvious)), so he doesn’t have that acceptance of Her. Why am I taking this seriously? Because I’ve studied enough on the major religions to know that there is relevance in even these simple ways of expressing faith, and because I’ve grown up with my Faith, I can appreciate it in others.
Nyx-Politics aside, I’m sure you’ll enjoy the next chapter. It’s not quite so plot-y, but it’s certainly a nice one.
Thanks for waiting, please R&R, and do wish me luck for the future.
Ruin Takada XXX
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