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audhd-nightwing · 1 year

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modern trans steddie au where eddie is stealth among the Party, only wayne and corroded coffin know he’s trans. also there’s no upside down & they’re both in high school (16/17)

so one day he’s at steve’s (just the two of them, which has been happening more often lately much to eddie’s surprise and delight) and his ribs start to ache and it gets hard to breathe and shit he’s been binding for too long.

eddie attempts to leave, just wants to go home and take a binding break and wear his dysphoria hoodie for the rest of the day, but steve has already noticed that he’s in pain and no way in hell is steve letting eddie drive when all he can do is clutch at his sides and wheeze.

eddie figures shit, this is it i guess when steve asks what’s wrong. his brow is wrinkled in concern and he’s biting at his nail, trying find any visible injuries on eddie and eddie can’t take it anymore so he just blurts out “my ribs hurt.”

steve pauses, searching his face for something before nodding and sitting on the couch next to him.

“any, uh. particular reason for that?” steve asks hesitantly, messing with the hem of his shirt now.

eddie closes his eyes and takes a few deep breaths, mentally preparing to either lose one of his best friends or explain a lot of stuff. he doesn’t have the courage to open his eyes just yet so he says, through clenched teeth, “i’ve been binding for too long.”

what eddie doesn’t expect is the silence, and he opens an eye to see steve blinking at him, mouth hung open in shock. eddie sighs, getting ready to explain what binding is and why he does it when steve lets out a somewhat strangled laugh before slapping a hand over his mouth.

eddie doesn’t know if he should be offended or not but then steve shakes his head and asks “how long?”

eddie blinks at him. how long…?

steve clarifies, “how long have you worn your binder today?”

eddie, confused beyond belief, simply tells him “ten hours,” and watches as steve’s face scrunches with worry.

“okay,” steve says, getting up and pulling eddie with him, “you’re changing.”

eddie can’t do anything but follow steve to his room and watch as he digs through his closet before holding up a big hoodie triumphantly. steve walks over, dumps the hoodie in eddie’s arms and says “no more binding today,” before leaving and closing the door behind him.

eddie decides he might as well listen to steve and changes, thankful he wore sweats instead of his usual skinny jeans. the hoodie is big, and a deep navy blue with ‘Hawkins Swim Team’ printed on the front. eddie turns to leave but first catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror, specifically… he turns around again and yup, that’s ‘Harrington’ on the back. eddie thinks he might pass out, and not just from overbinding.

eddie can tell he’s blushing when he leaves the room but can’t do anything about it so he fights to urge to just run away and finds steve in the living room. steve looks up at eddie when he walks in and eddie can’t tell if it’s his imagination or if steve is actually blushing at the sight of eddie in his clothes.

steve coughs and averts his eyes, asking “do you feel better?”

eddie smiles hesitantly and sits next to him on the couch.

“yeah, thanks for that,” he replies, fidgeting before continuing, “look i don’t know if you don’t get it or you just don’t care or something but just please don’t tell anyone-”

steve cuts him off, eyes wide and a hand resting on eddie’s shoulder.

“eddie, hey. i would never do that. i swear on my life,” steve meets his gaze and eddie can’t help but believe him. at eddie’s nod steve slumps in relief, the hand still on eddie’s shoulder squeezing in reassurance before letting go.

“so,” eddie starts, feeling steve turn towards him to show he’s paying attention.

“so,” steve parrots, prompting him, and eddie rolls his eyes fondly.

“so, i’m trans. obviously. well, i think obviously. cuz you’re handling this shockingly well so i’m not sure if you’re actually supportive or just really stupid,” steve makes an offended-sounding squawk and eddie grins, “but i appreciate it either way.”

when steve doesn’t respond (again) eddie turns to find him smiling brilliantly at eddie, dimples showing and eyes sparkling, stealing eddie’s breath.

“what?” he asks, dumbfounded.

steve giggles, fucking giggles, and starts pulling his shirt off. eddie chokes on air and is startled into a coughing fit, fucking shit steve is gonna kill him one day, and next thing he knows steve is standing in front of him and handing him a glass of water. eddie downs it gratefully, opening his eyes to see steve standing in front of him still shirtless and eddie can’t help but admire the view before he sees the top surgery scars and realizes what steve was trying to tell him.

eddie can’t help but gape and meet steve’s eyes, who begins laughing even harder at the look eddie gives him.

“you? you, King Steve, prince of Hawkins High, are trans??” eddie exclaims. his worldview is shattering for a second time (both times because of one steve harrington) and he needs a moment to adjust.

steve just nods and continues laughing, managing to say, “what cis guy chooses the nickname King Steve?” before collapsing onto the couch in giggles

eddie can’t help but roll his eyes fondly and poke at steve’s chest.

“you,” he declares, “are an asshole.”

steve makes a mock-wounded noise and drapes himself over eddie’s lap dramatically, clutching his at heart.

“you wound me,” he replies, staring up at eddie. their eyes meet, and eddie feels trapped in steve’s gaze, his heartbeat stuttering when steve tucks a lock of hair behind eddie’s ear.

a moment later steve looks away, face dusted a light pink, and continues, “i didn’t know you were too until just now- otherwise i would’ve told you, promise.”

eddie trusts steve, and knows he’s telling the truth. he chews on his bottom lip a moment, contemplating, before cupping the side of steve’s face with his hand. steve’s eyes flicker to his, a question in them, and this time eddie knows the answer.

“i’m gonna kiss you now, okay?” eddie asks, smiling wide when steve nods emphatically and tucks his hand onto the back of eddie’s neck to pull him down.

the kiss is short and sweet, interrupted by smiles and laughter, and made worse by the awkward position, but eddie wouldn’t change it for the world.

when he pulls back steve is beaming and before eddie say anything else he blurts out, “be my boyfriend?”

eddie stares at him for a second before snorting and lowering his head to laugh into steve’s chest. when he looks up again to see steve’s pout he smiles softly and says, “of course, dumbass.”

when steve’s grin returns, eddie thinks it might be his favorite sight in the whole world.

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poll-ventures · 11 months

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Perdition 1.9

< ≡ >

The golden woman struggled for breath beneath me, my hands tight around her throat. I glanced up at the wooden door that led to the final resting place of the massive upside down spire.

My mind raged against itself in its indecision. With my left hand, I tightened my grip, while my right loosened, then suddenly rocketed across the gap and ripped my left hand from the demon’s neck. She bucked me off, and I landed painfully on a thick pile of roots.

She shot up, shaking and naked, golden hair matted with my blood. My right hand seized my chin, forcing me to stare up at her.

I watched as she realized she had already won. My vocal cords worked against my own will, tearing my name out from my soul, until I couldn’t do anything but scream it.

“Parker!”

The demon stilled, then smiled.

I swore, tearing my hand off of my chin, finally able to move it myself again. I looked down at the bites and slices in my flesh, gritting my teeth as they bled into the fabric of my cloak. “You bitch!”

“Watch your tongue, Parker.” Her whole face was curled into a toothy smile, her voice wrung ragged, somehow sounding older than she looked.

Compared to the honeysuckle voice that had come from within my mother, this voice sounded like spoiled milk.

“I should’ve killed you, demon.” I growled.

She smiled, four front teeth glimmering goldenly. “I have a name. Use it.”

I looked past her, towards the large wooden door that led to the stalactite’s point. I pointed at it, speaking her name.

“(Solidago.)” The speaking of the word made my tongue feel like a melting icicle. I hadn’t said the exact word, but something deeper, something forbidden.

She chirped happily through her thick set of teeth. “Yes?”

“O-Open that door,” I ordered.

She bowed swiftly, swiping at the small runnels of my blood in the dirt as she did. Skipping, she drew close to the door.

Then, almost reverently she slowed before it, carefully wiping my blood on the doorknob. It stained the bright brown into a deep, angry red.

Drawing her other hand to her teeth, she nipped quickly at her wrist. A thick, golden liquid beaded at the center of the gash, then wept out of the edges.

She collected it, then turned the wrist to her mouth as she spread the golden blood onto the doorknob.

The motion so closely mirrored the one I’d seen Mr. Montgomery make in Noel’s video that I wondered for a moment if they might be the same person.

The golden blood faded quickly, mixing with mine and bubbling into a vapor for a moment before cooling. Something inside the wall shifted loudly, and when she turned the knob, the door opened toward her.

Mist blew out of the darkness and into the forest in guttering waves.

Solidago stared into the misty darkness, grip tightening on the doorknob. Her ears perked up, eyes widening as she stared into the void of light.

Did she expect something to come out of it? I stood, preparing myself to walk into that darkness alone.

Behind me, the crack of a branch announced Bella making her way back to me. Her reins were loose around her neck, bit still between her teeth. She brayed as she saw me, and I turned to pat her. Grabbing her reins, I turned back to the door.

The woman was gone.

I peered into the empty alleys of the surrounding forest, but her golden trail had disappeared. Grimacing at the pain in my forearm, I led Bella to the gap in the wooden wall.

The thick mist cascaded out over us, stinging my eyes with some sort of gritty sand that the wind carried.

I stepped into the darkness carefully, tapping my foot to make sure there was a floor. I felt my boot connect with something soft and shifting.

I put my weight on it, and it held me, although shifting slightly. Fully entering the darkness, I blindly walked forward into the sand, pulling Bella through the doorway.

As soon as we were both on the shifting sand, the door slammed shut, and we were consumed by total darkness.

****

I could feel the mist turning about me, feel it brush past us in gritty gusts of wind as we walked forward into the void. Its strength was the only sign that we were moving at all.

I held Bella’s reins, walking forward blindly with my hand outstretched, hoping against hope for any sign of where I was meant to go.

The sand ate the sound of our footsteps, quickly filling the gaps in the leather of my boots. I made very sure not to turn around, not to even shift in the direction of my course.

In the claustrophobic vastness of the void, I tried to imagine the vastness of this room, the abyss that swallowed us. There was no way it fit into the forest that had sat atop the walled castle city I’d seen from outside.

We’d been walking up the city’s streets to the center of the castle, to the tip of the upside down spire. I’d seen where it must end, just behind the door that led into this room.

It didn’t make sense. None of this made sense.

Bella slowed for a moment, and I paused to give her a break, still staring sightlessly into the void, blasted with gusts of stinging sand.

What had that demon been afraid of? Why had she disappeared?

Demon? Can you fucking listen to yourself, for half a second? You’re crazy! You have officially gone insane.

Maybe. But… I could remember everything that led up to this point. There were questions, too many god damn questions, but if this wasn’t real, then what was really going on?

Am I having a seizure back at the police station?

That woman… What was her name? Horne. She’d rung my head pretty badly, then left me to sleep right after.

Isn’t that the one thing you’re not supposed to do after getting a head injury? After I wake up, Isaiah breaks me out. Then, all this crazy shit starts happening.

A wave of nausea came over me, the feeling that I was dying on the cot of a dirty cell rather than walking in a lightless void filling me with unparalleled dread. I honestly couldn't tell which reality I prefered.

I began walking again. Bella brayed in tuneless protest, but followed.

Could I just be imagining all of this?

“Could you not be?”

The voice sounded from within my head, but it felt like it was all around me, a quiet voice bleeding from the mists.

I wasn’t even surprised to hear it. That’s how bad this had gotten. Feeling curious, if a little on edge, I directed a thought at the voice.

Who are you?

It was silent for a moment, then responded with the same, quiet voice. It was the voice of my mind, only I wasn't the one controlling it.

“You,” you said.

I sighed, speeding up as I bit my lip. Speaking without talking, listening without hearing.

The least you can do is not mess with me.

You smiled. “When it is a horse.”

Fuck you. What does that even mean? Fuck you!

“Save your curses, and save your questions for the pool.”

What pool?

Silence.

“What POOL! Are we going swimming!?” I shouted, exasperated. Bella pulled against her reins in shock, my outcry dying in the void as quickly as it had left my lips.

The gritty wind continued to unceremoniously assault my face. I stopped. I’d been walking with my eyes closed. Now, staring forward, I saw light ahead.

“Birthing pool. Groundwater. The last star in a long dead sky.” You feel like crying for the first time in billions of years.

I walked toward the light.

****

The light was high in the sky, seeming to hover above the dunes of the desert.

Slowly, the light allowed shape returned to the landscape. We were walking in coarse, colorless sand, the mist mixing with the thick gusts of wind making it impossible to see even a few feet in front of me.

Bella had her head ducked against the wind, and I used the edge of my cloak to protect my eyes.

Next, color returned. My dark green robe glimmered in the weak sky-light. It never faltered, only growing stronger as we made our way through the relentless gray desert.

Above us, I could still see the rounded edge of the stalactite. Having come this close, I could see that the face of the pale stone was engraved with thin lines. The spire loomed in the sky above the light until it disappeared into the sand filled wind.

It couldn’t be more than a few minutes away. I pressed on, having to wrap Bella’s reins twice around my hand as she whinnied.

The sand chafed painfully against my wounds, catching in my eyelashes and nostrils, only seeming to buffet us stronger as we walked to the source of sky-light.

I tripped, catching myself at the bottom of a dune. Bella nosed at me, then turned away from the wind after I moved.

My foot had caught on something deep in the sand, and I could feel more things like it under my hands and knees. I gripped one, and pulled it out to reveal a dagger.

Or what had once been a dagger. Sand poured off of it in waves, disappearing into the pull of the wind. The blade was dull, and the handle had fallen off ages ago.

It looked like there’d been a carving on it once, but it too had been worn away. The others were much the same, some larger, some smaller, but all metallic blades that seemed to have been here for a long time.

The largest blade I found looked as if it had once been much larger. It was about two inches wide, three feet long, and still had its wooden handle and hilt in place.

It was heavy as hell, and still had its engravings on the side that had been buried deeper in the sand.

They were simple, thin lines that reminded me of a map of the human circulatory system. They were just like those etched into the spire.

Where did these come from? Who had once owned them?

“The pool,” you said.

The voice caught me off guard, but I shook my head staring down at the large sword resting atop the sand.

Do I bring it with me?

“No. She has earned her rest.”

She? You knew the owner of this blade?

“Yes. The Mothervein. I was her, and she will be me.” You stared at the sword, and coulf recall it as it once was. Woodswillow. Will the Mother remember you as such?

I slid the sword back into the sand, covering it carefully before I stood. It shifted slightly as I stepped past it. Bella turned back to me, facing the sandy winds to follow me, paying no attention to the blades hidden in the dunes. Ahead, the light glowed ever stronger.

Cautiously, I walked on the metal remains hiding beneath the thin coat of sand. On the leeward side of a dune, we were protected momentarily from the whipping winds. Staring up at the light, I nearly tripped again on a resting blade.

As we crossed the dunes, the valleys grew deeper, and the peaks higher. In the darkened depths of one misty dune, we stepped noisily across a pile of blades unearthed by the wind.

I watched Bella carefully here, escorting her across the shifting pile of dull, gleaming metal that peaked out of the blanket of mist.

As I stepped out of the valley, I finally saw the stalactite’s end. Its point was hidden inside a tower, made of the same pale stone as the spire itself. Having seen the structure at its full size from outside the castle walls, its end seemed impossibly small.

Looking up, it was the only thing I could see. The taper was gradual, but even a few miles above me, it encompassed the entire sky.

Light spilled out from the top of the crenelated tower, radiating across the nearby dunes and illuminating the mist in the air.

The mist itself poured out from the first floor of the tower, which was built without walls. Bare, pale stone pillars circled a metal platform, holding up the rest of the walled tower.

I sped up the hill towards the tower, towards the point of the spire, trailing Bella behind me.

The mist grew thickest as I rose to the top of the sandy hill. It was cold, but contained no sand. It seemed pure, smelling somehow more fresh and full than ever. I breathed deeply, feeling the cold, pure vapor in my lungs, and finally crested the hill.

Standing in the flickering lamp light of the pale stone tower was my Professor, speaking to a woman I’d never seen before.

I stared in shock at Professor Mecardi, feeling my stomach turn in confusion and disgust.

He was in front of the room’s centerpiece: a stone pool, where the pure white mist poured in heavy waves. A lectern sat in front of him with a large book spread on it.

The circular room was littered with tables full of books and beakers, the outskirts stocked with large wooden racks of weapons and tools. The woman knelt beside the pool, staring up at my Professor respectfully.

Both of them wore swords on their belts. My professor was dressed in robes just like mine.

With my mouth agape, I felt a great pain twinge in the back of my brain, once, twice, left eye twitching in sympathy before I fell on my knees.

I stared up at the two of them, the woman, tall and muscular in her thick leather garb, staring back at me, annoyed. My professor looked on in confused amusement.

I vomited onto the pale floor, and then collapsed.

****

“Hey. Drink up.” A woman’s rough tone.

There was a metal taste on my tongue, and something heavy resting on my teeth, pouring liquid into my mouth. Someone shook me firmly, then patted my shoulder.

The liquid was thick, and instantly coated the inside of my mouth. It was a bitter, acidic bile.

I swallowed quickly, not being able to breathe. My head ached in rhythm with my heart, waves of pain radiating out and down my body. I was shivering, thrust suddenly into consciousness, and wishing I hadn’t been.

I kept my eyes closed, feeling my pulse in the stem of my brain as I swallowed more glugs of the liquid.

“Welcome back.”

She pulled the metal spout out of my mouth, and I finally swallowed all of the bile. I tried to speak, but my mouth felt like it was full of sludge.

“Be quiet. And unclench your jaw.”

I did, not realizing that I had been. I could breathe again, but even that was painful. Although…

The pain was dulling as I lay on the ground. Waves of pain slowly melted into pleasurable bursts of comfort and warmth, like I’d just taken a shot.

Even the pain from the cut and bite Solidago had dealt me had eased. I breathed slowly now, and rested my head against the cold stone.

After a moment's breather, I finally opened my eyes.

The meager lamp light almost blinded me at first. It lit the circular room with its fluttering flame, revealing the woman who’d been standing in front of my professor holding a white and gold spouted jug she had made me drink from.

She was chubby, wearing a large leather jerkin and a large, heavy looking sword on her belt, just above her leggings.

I was on the floor of the tower. This close, the stone felt more like a sheet of thin, cold metal, engraved with spidery lines, all parallel to one another. This close, they looked like a never ending system of veins and nerves.

“Fffnmg,” I groaned wetly.

“Yeah,” she agreed, placing a warm towel over my eyes. She pushed me slowly onto my side, and I felt something wet trickle out of my mouth. I coughed, spitting out a pool of collected blood, phlegm and mysterious bile onto the pale metal floor.

She eased me onto my back again, wiping away the mess, and finally, I saw the spire in its entirety.

The point of the spire was directly above the pool of perfect white mist, hovering a few feet above it. It ended in a sharp, miniscule point, all of the parallel engravings running together to meet at the end of the stalactite.

The tower itself was designed to encompass the very end of the spire, only a few stories tall and hollow, the tapering stalactite fitting directly into the middle of it, and ending just above the pool of ever drifting mist.

Above the tower itself, I could see the glass box that held the sky-light from the desert. It seemed dimmer, now that I was right below it.

“Quite the view.” The woman stood after speaking, lifting a wooden bucket and rag from the metal floor.

“Where am I?” My voice sounded old, cracked, and tired.

“Home,” you said, smiling softly.

“You were almost dead. You’re alive for a little longer, thanks to him.” The woman nodded to my professor, who stood looking over the wooden lectern at the two of us.

She carried the jug and bucket across the circular room, pouring its brackish contents out into the sand beyond. Then, she placed the white and gold jug into the center of the misty pool, just below the point of the stalactite. Turning to my professor, she asked, “It’s settled then?”

My professor turned to her, hands on the wooden lectern like they were when he was presenting in front of a classroom. “Yes, roadmaster. Thank you.”

She turned to go, then looked back. “Do you see me, Alex Mecardi?” She bowed slightly, putting her three center fingers onto her chin, stubby fingernails facing him.

He nodded, bowing slightly with his index and middle finger to his chin. “I see you, Maxine Anderson.”

She put the bucket and rag down against a large round pillar, then stepped off of the metal platform of the tower’s first floor.

And disappeared.

There was no other way to explain what I’d just seen. She should have stepped down off of the pale metal and into the misted sand, but she didn’t. She just stepped through the gap, and then was gone.

As soon as she left, the room shifted. The wooden racks of weapons that had filled the background disappeared with her, leaving a puff of mist as they quickly took another shape.

More bookcases, and more tables littered with chemistry equipment and books took form from the mist, seemingly as solid as the racks they had been moments ago.

I turned to my professor, and stood slowly. Somehow, I managed not to fall down, still shaking as I righted myself.

He was still standing behind his lectern, looking down at the large book laid out on it. He looked up at me as I stood, blinked, then spoke.

“Parker. Are you feeling okay?”

I stared at him, somewhere between amazement and hatred. “No. Absolutely not.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said.

I spoke quickly, almost interrupting him. “What the hell are you doing down here? What the hell is this place, and why am I here? What do you have to do with all of this?”

He smiled, and it was one I was familiar with. I’d seen it come across his face while he discussed historical essays or particularly cogent philosophical ideas.

It was somewhat guarded, a tiny smirk that showed he was thinking, but still listening. He turned to a table behind him, littered with old leather bound books and flasks.

“One question at a time,” he said slowly.

I slowly rounded the pool of mist, watching his back as he looked down at an open book, adjusting one of the glass vials, which was filled with a clear liquid.

"I deserve as many answers as I want. The last few hours have been hell, and at the end of it, I find you." He turned from his equipment to me, and I jabbed a finger at him.

“I know, Parker.” His smile had been replaced with a grave, serious expression. “I have to explain this to you carefully, and quickly. You’re in danger, and we’ve-.” He sighed, closing his eyes. “I’ve put you there.”

“Sure,” I said, speaking animatedly, “Let’s start there. What the hell are you doing with these people? Maxine, Isaiah, Stash. What did you all do to me, and why?”

“We poisoned you.” He didn’t seem the smallest bit ashamed, standing there, perfectly still. “With thallium.”

“Wait, what? Why?”

“Your employer,” he said seriously. “Mr. Montgomery.”

His face flashed in my mind. I saw him at the front door, welcoming me into his home, showing me his study, the false memories, the knife he had handed me, and his daughter holding his rifle, meaning to fire it into my chest.

“I see you already have an idea of his capabilities. Memories falling into place, replacing old constructions? That would be the ichor.” He said it all so matter-of-factly, I could barely stop to think.

Ichor. Blood of the Gods?

“Goddess.”

“Blood of the Goddess?” I asked, my voice sounding strange to my own ears.

He was taken aback. “It must be further along than I thought. Perhaps the dosage… No matter, the amount of thallium in the mixture should’ve killed you on the spot. We gave you the ichor to slow the-”

“Hold on, you’re who kidnapped Mr. Montgomery?”

“Yes,” he nodded. “You were instrumental in our plan, and I do apologize that we used you.”

“Don't--Don't even go there. Not unless you mean it.” I took a breath, and looked around the bizarre circular room, then blew it out slowly. “There's no going back from this, is there? My life will never be normal again.”

“Parker. All we need you to do is cast a vote. After that, we can help you, and make you forget all of this. I give you my word.” He bowed his head, placing a hand to his chest.

“Aw, thanks, teach. Now tell me, can you make an FBI agent forget about the pizza delivery boy who broke me out of prison? How about the fifteen cops that saw me get arrested? How about my family, who probably think I'm a criminal on the run now?”

For the first time in my life, I saw real shock on Professor Mecardi's face. Then, he closed his eyes and pinched his nose, raising his eyebrows in as much annoyance as shock.

“Yeah," I said. “Didn't think so.”

He paused, tapping a finger against his pursed lips. “We can't do that,” he said slowly, “but we can fix this. We know this is our fault, and we're ready to-”

“Okay, sure, just-. Why did you have to pick me?” I stammered, putting my own hand to my chest. “Why poison me?”

He paused, breathing deeply, then exhaled through his nose slowly. Then, almost a whisper: “Do you remember your final essay?”

“What does this have to do with a stupid essay competition? I can’t even believe I’m looking at the same person I turned that essay into.”

“You are, Parker. I’ll explain it all, just, let me, yes?” He was pleading with me.

“Fine.” I nodded, crossing my arms.

“Okay. Your history covers the nature of Old Hill. How the town has gone through several booms and busts. And, your theory was…?”

He smiled expectantly, and I couldn’t keep it from disgusting me. The worst part was that it felt normal. This is how we would talk in class, and here we were, beneath a metal stalactite larger than God, buried underneath a mountain.

I sighed. “My theory was that Old Hill is heading for another boom. In the past, it was coal, gold, arsenic, tungsten, and now it’s real estate, via the gentrification of Old Hill’s mainstreet and available high end cabin locations.” I was essentially quoting my essay’s thesis back at him, and he was eating it up.

He smiled, and nodded. “Yes, well, you're more right than you know. There were people behind these booms and busts, yes? These people got rich here, then left to change the world?” He quirked his eyebrow, waiting for me to agree.

I nodded, feeling my anger boil underneath the surface. “That’s the American dream. Make it big and escape the nowhere town, change the world, and get rich doing it.”

“Yes. Sure. But can that happen to anyone?” He smirked, waiting for my retort.

“Sure. Niel Armstrong was a kid from Ohio, and he ended up on the Moon. Every small town has its heroes.” I played dumb, hoping it would help him get to his point.

“Yes. But Old Hill has more than most. Cycles of vast riches, then great poverty.”

“...And?”

“First it's gold, coal, wood, then arsenic, then tungsten, now real estate. They all profit off the labor and the land of those beneath them, but when the land's bled dry?” He motioned as he spoke, posing his final question dramatically.

I paused. “I… Nothing, if work dries up, the workers will leave.”

“Not these workers,” he tutted in a sing song voice, looking half mad. “Sure, some will leave, but Old Hill? These people, their history… These people will stick to their legacy. They'll suck these people dry, Parker.”

“How?”

“They already have, have been for a while. Think about it. They've chained the people to the mountain, and it’s given Old Hill all that it can. Now that all we’ve got is empty hills, they've gone looking to profit off the land. And when that drys up, all that's left is-”

“What are you saying? What does this have to do with Kyle Montgomery?”

“Everything. He owns those real estate companies, he’s been building those condos. He’s poisoning the town, and profiting off of it.” He put his fist down on his lectern, then stepped out from behind it, walking slowly closer to me as I spoke.

“So you kidnap him? You poison me? To what end?” I slowly backed up as he approached, and he put his hands out, as if not to spook a horse.

“He is a vampire, Parker. He drank from you. He drank from the whole city. It was the only way to stop him.”

He stopped, putting his hands together as if in prayer. “Please, just think about it. All of the ichor inside you has to help you realize that he’s been pulling the wool over your eyes. He’s been feeding on you, ever since you stepped foot into his house. You were the only way to get to him.”

I had backed up into a pillar of the tower. I felt the cool metal line my spine, then closed my eyes to think.

Without even trying hard to remember, I found more dual memories, melting as simply as a child's lie in the light of the sun. Over and over, I remembered him knocking on my door before bed, looking me in the eyes, and telling me to let him in.

Then, I would do it. He would hand me the same knife as before, and I would slice into my wrist, letting him drink from the thick red blood that welled there. It hurt, but I wanted to help him. It felt good. Then, after he had drank from me, he would put his wrist against my mouth, his own lips red like wine-

I grimaced in disgust at the memories, forcing them out of my mind with sheer will.

“I hate this,” I said, fury making my voice shake. “I wanted no fucking part in any of this.”

He stepped forward again, shaking his head slowly. “As much as I wish it wasn’t the case, Parker, he was using you. He would’ve killed you, within time.”

“Maybe that’s better than-.” I stopped, tears welling at my eyes as I looked around the room. I groaned, just wanting to scream. “All of this. All of this fucking sucks.”

“I agree,” he said softly. “We needed to do something to help you.”

“So you poisoned me? And then erased my memory of it?” My voice was rising in pitch now, my chest tight.

“Nothing that nefarious,” he said, “Just in your water. I had to do it, to save you, Parker.”

“I wish you hadn’t,” I spat. “For once, I had something approaching normalcy. What did you do with him, anyway? Is he dead?”

“No,” he shook his head, jaw firm. “I voted against killing him.”

“So, just keep him alive indefinitely? I mean, what’s the plan here?” My voice was frayed, on the edge of delirium, a moment away from breaking into disturbed laughter. “Where is he?”

My professor took a breath, and straightened his back. “He’s here. I had him bound.”

“Oh, ‘cause he’s such a threat?”

He nodded gravely. “He is. You’ve only seen a fraction of what he can do.”

“Show me. Prove to me that he’s a-.” I paused, shaking my head. “A vampire.”

He nodded, serious as ever as he turned and crossed the room, leading me to a heavy looking wooden crate. He put his arms and hip against the crate, pushing it off of a raised circle in the pale metal, a handle poking out of the floor.

He bent, grabbed the handle, and raised the trap door. It was pitch black inside, mist spilling tendrils down into the darkness. My professor grabbed the lantern from a table, shining oily firelight down into the pit.

Inside, was Kyle Montgomery. He stared up at us, ten feet down, blinking at the light that gleamed off of the blood slick chains that bound him.

He was in a ruined suit, his short blond hair slick with sweat, blood and worse. The walls of the pit were too tight for him to stand, so he crouched in a pool of brackish water.

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing resembling speech came out. Trying again, he managed, “Water.”

“Jesus Christ,” I whispered hoarsely.

“Spare your sympathy,” he said, and spit down the pit at Kyle, who flinched as the spittle landed on his cheek. “It’s a monster.” I glanced down at the sword on Professor Mecardi’s belt.

“Parker?” The man’s ruined voice called up to me. “Help me. You need-” He broke into a coughing fit, then adjusted himself, the chains clinking against each other like airless windchimes. “Don’t listen to him. Just, please. Help me.”

I opened my mouth, then closed it, turning to Mecardi, stomach churning at the sight, let alone the smell that wafted up from the pit. “Why are you doing this to him? What did he do to deserve this?”

Slowly, he closed the trap door. Kyle’s whispered cries grew to a crescendo as the door slammed shut, silencing him. My professor looked at me, stepping close as he spoke.

“When I open this, I need you to focus on the words he’s saying. Really focus. Close your eyes and listen, and once you hear it for what it truly is, open your eyes. You will see your proof.”

I lowered my eyebrows, staring back at the professor. I nodded, but held up a finger. “Is this what the vote is on? To kill or keep this man alive?”

Mecardi nodded back, saying, “Yes. He may be a valuable asset alive, as much as he deserves death.”

“No. If the vote falls on not killing him, he’s set free. Nobody deserves this." I paused, then added, "No thing."

He bit his lip, then nodded. “The others draw near. We will vote on it when the time comes.”

Then, checking I was ready, he nodded one last time. He raised the trap door once more.

I closed my eyes, listening to the cries of a helpless man. “Water,” he said again, then apparently seeing me again, he cleared his throat. “Parker. I need you to get me out of here, Parker.”

Thinking of his lips on my wrist, mine on his, sucking blood out of free flowing veins, I screwed my eyes shut further, willing the ichor inside me to spread.

“See true, hear true, my host…” You croon in pleasure, stretching unused muscles for the first time in untold eons.

The voice of Kyle Montgomery slowly melted from a raspy, tired man, to that of a wounded animal. He screamed. It was a full, blood curdling cry of a creature, something non-human beating at the inside of its cage, hurt, scared, hungry and furious.

“Do you hear it?” My professor asked, voice mellow over the vicious screams. After I nodded, he said, “Open your eyes. Look upon its true form.”

Blood slick chains writhed in tortured tension, keeping the beast pinned to the bottom of the pit. It was still Kyle Montgomery, clothed in his expensive suit and tie, but the way his body moved…

It was impossible. He wasn’t human. His body bent at fatal angles, faster than I could properly see. He was a blur of arms and legs, screaming with no language or goal behind it, just pure anguish.

Not once did the chains slacken, they were always pulled tight around his form. At his belt, there was a sword. I could make it out in the fleeting moments between his crazed writhing.

It was a thin, needlelike saber. His screams never took the shape of communication in my mind, continuing as a never ending stream of pain and fear.

“Close it,” I whispered.

Mecardi did, watching me carefully. The screams were finally silenced.

I crouched silently, thick cloak gently billowing in the mist on the floor. I shook my head, then stood.

He did too, placing a foot over the trap door and staring at me like I might injure myself. After I had spent a full minute staring at the metal plate, he spoke quietly. “Are you okay?”

I moved my eyes to meet his, then laughed genuinely, heartily, until I ran out of breath. Heaving fresh lungfuls of the sour smelling air, I had to make an effort to stop laughing as I stepped back.

“What’s so funny?”

The young boy's voice took me a moment to recognize, and I realized it belonged to Isaiah a second before I turned to see him entering the mist coated tower.

He was smiling, poncho fluttering in the misty wind as he rounded the pool in the center of the room, stopping to do a hanging spin from one of the circular pillars holding the tower up.

Stash blinked into existence behind him, stepping into the tower from nothing. The folds in her draping red dress held no dusting of gray sand. She frowned, surveying the scene warrily from the back of the room, hands on her hips.

Cheerily, Isaiah turned to her. “Hi-low,” he drawled.

"Hinny-minny," Stash echoed.

After a moment, the woman who had given me the ‘ichor’ appeared to Stash’s left, stopping for a moment to pat Bella's mane and give her a treat.

She stood, contemplative as she took in the others. She looked as if she was waiting for something.

All three of them had swords on their belts.

Stash nodded to the taller, larger woman. “Max.”

She just grunted, then turned to the professor and I, expectantly. Then, the room shifted again.

Just as it had when Max disappeared, the room's decor puffed into mist before slowly regathering into different furniture. The racks of weapons had been replaced, and now joined sets of armor.

Where the room had been disarrayed, it was now perfectly in order, books slid back into their place on bookshelves, tables lined themselves up in a perfect circle around the pool, even the lectern puffed into mist momentarily to shift itself slightly to fit in front of the largest of the wooden tables.

This table was round, while all the others were curved rectangles. It held a large map of Old Hill, with pins keeping it from fluttering off of the tabletop.

Little figures were arrayed on the map, varying in size, shape, and color. On the western edge of the map, the mountain range sat like a massive natural wall. The map was one I recognized, I had seen it in the historical society's museum, not too long ago.

“I love it when that happens,” Isaiah said, jumping onto one of the benches of the outer tables just to vault the table itself. He landed with turned down untied boots up on the metal edge of the pool of mist, leaning back on the table behind him. “We ready to do this?” He grinned up at me, smiling like it was his last.

Max grumbled, then stepped forward into the center of the tables, standing opposite Isaiah. “There was no vote called for your actions tonight. You were reckless, and endangered all of us.” She stood with her arms crossed over her leather jerkin, staring down at Isaiah with a scowl.

“If I didn’t save him, they would’ve killed him,” Isaiah said, shrugging as he looked up at her. “Either that or the poison. The fed they stuck him with already gave him a concussion, then let him sleep. I played hockey, man. That shit kills people.”

I touched my forehead, feeling the dull ache through the softer waves of pleasure the ichor provided. Mecardi sighed, stepping up to the lectern, looking down and across the small gathering.

Stash joined the other two in the center circle, sitting with her back straight on the bench next to Isaiah’s. Her long braid rested perfectly on her back, and had been threaded with a long red ribbon.

Without thinking, she had adjusted her scabbard to fit in the gap between bench and table. The other two had as well, I realized.

“Please, gentlemen. We must vote on the matter at hand, not bicker at how we got here.” Mecardi frowned, looking at Isaiah, who still was locked in a glaring contest with Max. “I did not approve of Isaiah’s actions. He acted rashly.”

Stash leaned toward Isaiah. “I told you so,” she stage-whispered. Isaiah finally broke the stare, looking up at me with a sly ‘well, what-are-you-gonna-do?’ look.

“However,” Mecardi said, pausing to let them refocus. “Parker is now safe, which is only right, as he was fundamental to our plan.” He turned back, looking at me expectantly. I shifted awkwardly, until he spoke. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the last remaining bench sitting before the mist filled well.

I rounded the room, staring out at the lit dunes of sand beyond the tower, thinking of the swords that lay hidden beneath them. Then, carefully slipping between the tables, I sat in between Stash and Max, staring up at my professor.

“Now. I call the council to order,“ he intoned. Isaiah’s back straightened, getting up off the edge of the table as he stared into the mist coming out of the large pool. “Parker has asked for a vote. He says a vote in favor of letting the Montgomery beast live should be a vote for setting him free. We shall vote for this first.”

Max looked at me, face unreadable. The others remained silent.

Mecardi cleared his throat, then looked at all of us in turn as he spoke. “All in favor of setting the beast free, raise your hand. All in favor of keeping the beast in the oubliette, stay your hands.”

I hesitated, but raised my hand. I was only joined by Isaiah. My heart sank, but then roiled with a thin slick of anger.

“Horseshit,” Isaiah said, mirroring my emotions. “Why the hell would we keep him? Man’s got a wife and child.”

Max smirked at him, voting hand firmly below her waist. “Of course he does. It makes him less evil. Those things will take any opportunity to seem like one of us.”

“But they are not,” my professor said, grimacing. “The only good it serves the world is dead, or helping us study the ichor more closely.”

“So you admit it!” Isaiah stood up, slamming a fist against Mecardi’s lectern. “All you want to do is keep him and experiment on him. That’s fucked.”

“Sit down,” Max said, standing and towering over the boy.

“Admission implies guilt,” Mecardi said, steadying himself on the wooden lectern above us. “Anything I do to that thing has no moral weight on my soul, for it is a beast of destruction and death. You know this well, Isaiah. You apprehended the beast, and still bear the scars-”

“Shut up,” I said, “Just stop talking. Isaiah has done the exact same thing that the man you have in the pit did to me. He didn’t drink from me, but he acts the same as Kyle Montgomery. Tell me the difference.”

Isaiah turned to me, affronted. “I am not a monster. He was set to kill you, and has killed many times before. I saved you. Do not compare me with that man,” he said, voice cracking with emotion.

“Quiet,” Mecardi spoke loudly, and Isaiah and Max returned to silence, then sat. “Now. We vote on the beast’s death.”

I breathed in deeply, feeling the ichor ache happily inside me. I’ve used that same power on Solidago. Am I any better than Isaiah? Than Montgomery? I had turned to it before for my decisions, and it made me fear how long it had been inside me.

If this shit had been here for months, had it been steering the course of my life? Will this choice be taken from me as well?

“All in favor of killing the beast, raise your hand. Those in favor of keeping it alive, stay your hand.”

Max raised her hand. Isaiah raised his hand.

Stash and Professor Mecardi didn’t move.

The decision was left to me.

What do you do?

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