After dropping the priest off in the infirmary, I call for backup as the captain instructed. However, chaos erupts on the ship. I hear the noise from the infirmary and follow the frantic calls. Whatever trait this vampire has, there's a time limit. I catch a glimpse of him reappearing among the crowd. People shriek in terror. When he realizes I have found him, he claws the nearest bystander. A woman screams when his talons slice her arm. Then he attempts to attack another. A seraphic who manages to conjure a shield that makes the vampire stumble. He lurches forward, becoming a flash of color among the crowd.

Like our time in Silra against Ikehn, I have limited options. There are too many bystanders. Offensive attacks could set the ship ablaze and send us crashing to the ground. Civilians scurry in all directions like frightened mice escaping the paws of a hungry cat. They don't know how to watch or dodge danger. One wrong move and I may hit them instead of the vampire. I may send us to our doom, so I have to be careful. Calculated.

Leaning down, I make a swift cast that allows me to sprint towards the wall. Gravity means nothing to me, though the cast causes an awful headache. Without anyone in my way, I barrel across the wall faster and faster until the vampire is in reach. He howls in pain when the blade of my axe catches his shoulder.

I jump off the wall, digging my axe deeper to drag him away from the crowd. He snatches the handle, trying to use brute strength to break it. He soon realizes that's impossible. Pressing his heels to the ground, he lurches upwards. My axe releases in a spray of red. He flips over me, landing behind. I kick my leg out. He jumps to avoid being tripped. A clawed hand grasps my robe. My weapon clatters to the floor when I release it. He tries to bring me towards him, fangs bared. My fingers dig into his wrist. My heels dig into the floor. I fling him over me like an empty sack, then slam my foot into his throat. He gasps for breath.

I release him to retrieve my axe, but the blade meets the metal floor rather than his throat. He has risen once more, and disappeared. My eyes scan the small lounge area. One would think people would have the sense to run, but the saying is true; curiosity killed the cat. Many remain on the outskirts, near what they think will be safe exits, in order to watch. Worried about who he may attack next, my gaze drifts to the onlookers. Odd movement catches my eye. The slight discoloration, almost a distortion in the air sprinting towards the exit.

I throw my axe. The vampire reappears, screaming with my axe embedded in his back. He falls to the floor, howling like a wounded animal. And that's when the people start shouting; "Kill it, Paladin! Kill the beast!"

My hesitation to do exactly as the crowd wants nearly costs a man his life. The vampire grabs his wrist, prepared to bite. My legs swiftly carry me. I grab the vampire's hair, remove my axe and slice his head clean off. Blood sprays over the man, who gags and stumbles back in horror. But the remaining onlookers are unaffected by the morbid display. They cheer. Louder. And louder. And louder. Until their words ring in my ears more powerful than morning church bells.

The room sways in my vision. The crowd cheers for the death of another monster. Some even step closer in grim curiosity. I haven't felt sick after a kill since the first few I took. But now, it takes all my willpower not to hurl as I push past the crowd. At some point, I think I tell security about the body. I'm not really sure. I stumble through the halls in search of the infirmary to check in on the priest. That's all I want to think about. Not about the body I left behind, the one others cheered me to make.

When I arrive at the infirmary, nurses have already tied the priest to the bed. He thrashes about wildly, practically foaming at the mouth. The bite marks are inflamed like wicked burns. His veins bulge in his neck to his forehead, face so red that he looks like a popped cherry.

"Paladin," someone says, bringing my horrified gaze to them. The doctor approaches me, frowning. "I know you likely wish to speak to your brother but, as you can see, he is in no condition to do so."

"Do you think he'll survive?" I ask, making the situation worse for myself by looking at him once more.

The priest's eyes roll into the back of his head. He heaves a long breath, then screams like someone has set him ablaze. Tears follow, accompanied by the familiar begging; "More! I need more! Don't keep it from me! I-I can't stand it! It hurts! It hurts!"

"He's having a very severe reaction," the doctor replies. "We need to be realistic about this."

In other words, it's unlikely he'll survive.

When the priest begins to spasm, the doctor runs towards him. She and the nurses struggle to slip a reed into his mouth to prevent him from biting his own tongue. The sound of his pained breath. The screeching metal of the bed. The clinking of the restraints. They torture my mind, threatening to open a door long since locked.

Then I blink my eyes and I'm somewhere... different. The infirmary warps to a cold room that reeks of bleach and something too sweet. A series of hospital beds line the walls separated by sheets. Restraints lay atop the mattress.

"Seren."

I look ahead to a priest without a face, as if my memory is desperate to forget it. Even his voice is like static. He holds a lantern that dimly lights the room and the first empty bed. Holding out his hand, he beckons me forward. My feet carry me towards him. His gentle hands ease me into the bed before he begins tightening the straps. My body trembles. I'm scared. I'm so scared.

"Are you frightened?" He whispers. "If you do not wish to partake, you may leave. Your family will not be upset."

A scream sits on the tip of my tongue, the desperate plea to cry for help, as if I know what is to come but am too scared to voice it. But then that fear settles as I look at the faceless priest. I am with my family. My family would never hurt me. There's nothing to fear, right?

"I don't want to leave. I will make you proud," I reply just as the priest tightens the final strap.

Then the vision dissipates and I find myself in the present, standing motionless in the infirmary as the priest gurgles blood. I can't be here. I can't watch this. I have to go. I have to go. I have to run.

I burst out of the infirmary with no inkling of where I'm headed. There's only the instinct to run. As if I can escape the memories swirling in my mind. But I don't. They follow me. Painful as thorns digging into my skin, ensuring to never release. I scratch and scratch, but then my shoulder clips the wall. The momentum sends me crashing to the floor, hissing from the rug burning my arm.

I almost throw up right there, but I dry heave instead. What's wrong with me? I've slain vampires more times than I can count. I've watched friends die before my eyes. I've seen others like that priest lose themselves to blight. Why is it affecting me so much now? Get a grip. Get a grip, Seren!

Suddenly, a hand rests on my back. I'm too riled up to think, swinging around quickly with my axe bared. The tip of the blade rests at the base of Lore's neck. He doesn't look the least bit worried. A slow hand raises to press against the handle, easily pushing the blade aside.

"Someone is a little jumpy," he says, kneeling on one knee beside me. His hand moves to rest on my cheek. "You're burning up."

I don't know why I let him ease me onto my feet. My mind has gone numb. No thoughts. Merely the urge to move. Lore's hand rests on the small of my back, guiding me down the hall to our room. I hadn't even realized I was running there. The door shuts behind us. Lore takes me to my bed where I plop down, listless and breathing heavily.

At some point, Lore must have left because he reappears in my vision with a basin of water and a rag. I flinch from the unexpected touch of a cool rag against my face.

"Keep still," he demands. "You're filthy."

"Filthy?" I repeat, puzzled. Then I look down. I'm caked in blood. The vampire. When I killed him. His blood is everywhere. The rag turns pink then vibrant red from a few mere touches of my face. Lore dips the rag in the water, then returns to wipe at my neck.

"Hold out your hands," he orders. I do so, silently watching him remove the blood even from beneath my nails. As much as he can, at least. "Don't you think you went a bit overboard?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"You're covered in blood and left a rather... vivid scene behind."

My voice almost cracks when I ask, "You saw?"

"Mhm."

"But you didn't help?"

"Killing vampires is your sole purpose, remember?" Lore drops the rag into the basin. He reaches for the rope at my waist. Fear surges through me. Something primal that has me shoving Lore back. He falls from his knees to land on the floor.

"What are you doing?!" I holler, clutching my robes as I stand. I begin to retreat, feeling cornered, erratic, ready to flip at any moment. The room's too small. I can't breathe.

"Need I remind you that you are filthy?" Lore asks. He stands while dusting off his clothes. "Your robes don't even have white on them anymore."

"I... I can change by myself," I sputter. My shaking hands do not help to prove what I've said.

"Are you going to change anytime soon or stand there all evening?" Lore asks after a long moment of silence. His brows furrow when I, once again, don't reply. "You're acting awfully strange. Could you be losing your touch, Paladin?"

Lore jokes. He always jokes. Every damn second of every damn day. And he's about to regret it.

"Why must you always make me the bad guy?" I ask. More like scream. Loud enough to make Lore take a surprised step back. He doesn't do that again. Not even when I stomp towards him to shove my hands against his chest. "For once, just fucking once, can you at least pretend to care or listen or stop... stop making every damn thing I do into a way for you to fucking attack me?!"

"Explain. Explain to me why I was the only one chasing after a murderer. Why was I the only one being cheered on for slaughtering them? Why am I the one expected to do that while you wait around the corner to use whatever you see as ammunition against me?!" Another shove, but Lore doesn't move an inch. His expression remains placid, but there's something in his eyes that turns my blood cold. "And so what if I'm a bit on edge lately. Can you blame me? I have to put up with you and your--your--"

"Annoying bullshit?" he finishes.

"Yes! And if you know it's annoying bullshit, then stop already!"

"I think we both know it's much deeper than that," Lore says without missing a beat. His statement feels like a challenge or a very fucked up request to learn why it is deeper than that.

Rather than respond, I pivot on my heel to escape to the bathroom. The door slams shut behind me. I face myself in the mirror, overwhelmed by the exhausted man staring back at me. His eyes are bloodshot. Hair a ratted mess of knots and blood. Robes tattered and bloody. I scrub and scrub them in the sink like I honestly believe that will clean them of the blood. Of the evidence. All scrubbing does is make my hands raw.

I rest my back against the wall and slide down to sit atop the cold stone tiles. Too tired to even move, I fall asleep on the spot, incapable of escaping the darkness, the memories that have finally come to consume me.

- - ┈┈∘┈˃̶༒˂̶┈∘┈┈ - -

Hello, hello friends! I'm posting my story, Speak the Truth, on amazon as an eBook and paperback. Right now, Volume One of Speak the Truth is available as an eBook (there will be two more volumes to complete the series by the end of the year.) I've got to make some tweaks to the paperback before releasing it. If you're interested, go to amazon and search speak the truth twoony to purchase the eBook! ^^

Yikes. Seren had quite an intense moment this chapter. The death of the vampire, people cheering him on, and seeing the priest coming undone, this has all taken quite a toll. Doesn't help that Lore doesn't really let up either. What could possibly happen now?