by Sean Davies
“Looks like you’re going to have to kill us,” the little girl said with an evil smile.
“It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve killed to stay alive, would it now, miss?” the young boy said with a cheeky giggle.
Veronica screamed as she tried to stop herself from attacking, but it was no good; she needed blood.
“I’m sorry,” the girl said in a strong distorted male voice, stopping the hunger-crazed Vampire in her tracks. “You’re too late.”
“Next time, you shouldn’t hesitate,” the boy added in the same booming voice, before disintegrating into a mound of dust.
The girl performed a quick curtsy before joining the rest of her imaginary family as a pile of sand.
The starved Vampire Bloodmage roared in fury and trashed the living room, both with her claws and violent bouts of telekinesis. Somehow Veronica had lost track of where she’d put her sword, but found she didn’t care, and carried on with her rampage. When the room was wrecked beyond recognition, Veronica managed to calm herself long enough to evaluate her situation, and could only think of one desperate solution. She figured that if anything in the bleak version of Woodsholme held significance (and a possible solution to her starvation), it would either be at Winston’s parents’ house or the Open Vein nightclub. If not, she was doomed. Veronica kicked down the front door, causing it to explode outwards like it had been struck with a wrecking ball, and she raced to the Reynolds residence as she tried to force her foggy, fading memory to recall its whereabouts.
“Cherriesa, I’m in trouble!” Veronica called in a rough voice.
“Oh no, what a shame…” Omniosis’ distorted yet dignified tone cackled through every radio and television set in the town.
“Fuck!” Veronica exclaimed aggressively, as she charged across the empty town.
Her throat felt like she’d swallowed a handful of pins, and her stomach was twisting in painful knots. She could feel herself changing into a mindless monster, and begged, pleaded, and prayed for the insatiable hunger to subside, so when it miraculously vanished, she was so surprised that she almost fell front first into the Reynoldses’ front garden.
The Vampire Bloodmage was stunned silly, and checked her body over in astonishment. There were no longer any signs of her becoming a Feral Vampire, and her outfit had changed once again; this time it was a sexy black dress with silver floral patterns along the seams, further extenuating her already curvaceous form and showing off her jaw-dropping cleavage to the fullest. Xavier’s sword rested on her hip in a fancy black leather sheath like it had never left her side. The transition had been so sudden and so unexpected that she questioned whether it had even happened in the first place.
“The sooner I get out of here, the better,” Veronica muttered to herself as she checked out Winston’s house.
She had only ever seen the house a few times in passing in the real world, and had never been inside. Winston had never gelled well with his parents, who had wanted him to follow in their footsteps and join the Military Peace Keeping organisation, and he had avoided returning to his family’s home, even after they were killed during the War for Reality.
The Reynolds family house looked near enough how Veronica remembered it, although it was definitely far duller than its real-life counterpart. The front garden was pleasant enough, and there seemed to be a bit more life in the little flowers and well-trimmed blades of grass than in the gardens belonging to the identical neighbouring houses. There was a rundown car parked outside of the adjoining garage which Veronica considered to be a trash can with four wheels, but even that seemed more ‘alive’ than the rest of this dark version of Woodsholme, and Veronica hoped that this was a good sign.
“Veronica, are you there?” Cherriesa’s voice crackled out of the old car’s radio.
Veronica jogged up the paved path to the house and eagerly approached the car. “Where the hell were you?” she asked aggressively. “There’s some seriously messed up stuff happening in here—I needed help!”
“Do not berate me!” Cherriesa hissed back. “Omniosis is gaining more control of Winston’s mind. Maintaining the link and keeping you in there is not easy!”
“Sorry,” Veronica grumbled. “This whole situation is just weird as fuck. I’m talking to you through a crappy, rusted-up car…”
“Save your apology,” Cherriesa said snidely. “I just wanted you to know that you should expect more instances of silence on my end. Now, hurry up and fix your husband so I can leave your poor excuse of a bedroom.”
“Yeah, thanks sweetie, love you too,” Veronica muttered sarcastically as she walked to the Reynoldses’ front door.
The Vampire Bloodmage found that the front door was ajar, and she slowly walked inside the hallway, anticipating danger. However, the house was calm, and mostly quiet except for a steady thudding noise from the first floor and a consistent crackling buzz from the living room.
The interior was filled with soil and patchy green grass, as though the front garden hadn’t ended and carried on growing right through the house to the backyard, but apart from the strange flooring the rest of the building looked relatively normal (apart from an overabundance of red, black, and white Imperian paraphernalia and military knickknacks).
Veronica popped her head into the living room and saw that the buzzing noise was coming from a large old-fashioned television, opposite which were two life-sized statues of a man and woman sitting on stone armchairs. The Vampire Bloodmage’s curiosity got the better of her, and she entered the room to inspect the strange seated figures.
She assumed they were modelled on Winston’s parents, and could see the family resemblance on their tough, scarred faces. They were dressed in the smart uniforms of the old Imperian Military, and their stony gazes were fixed eternally to the un-tuned television set. Both stone figures were marked with a faded plaque on the base of their carved armchair-thrones, stained with dirt, and Veronica bravely cleaned them off with her hand. She was relieved when they didn’t spring to life, and after a relaxed sigh Veronica read the inscriptions aloud.
“Here lies Aubrey Reynolds, killed by her son’s greed,” Veronica said, sadly. “Here lies Richard Reynolds, killed by his son’s reckless ambition.”
Veronica left the graveyard of a living room and searched the rest of the ground floor, but found nothing of interest. The knocking sound continued from above, so the voluptuous Vampire hesitantly crept up the stairs to investigate.
The short landing left little to explore, as four of the five doors upstairs were open; they revealed an empty master bedroom, an averaged-sized bathroom, an airing cupboard containing a crisp white boiler, and a storage cupboard that was mainly dominated by a clunky hoover. Veronica could hear the repetitive banging sound from behind the single closed door, the one she knew must lead to Winston’s room, and she turned the handle as slowly as she could to avoid making any sound.
Inside, Winston lay on his bland single bed, throwing a rubber ball up against the ceiling and catching it again. He was dressed in a baggy dark purple t-shirt, a pair of grey jogger bottoms, and his brown hair looked like someone had dropped a mop onto his head. When he noticed Veronica out the side of his eye his concentration waned, and the ball smacked him on the forehead, although he beamed with happiness nonetheless.
“Veronica!” Winston gasped. “Is that really you?”
“Yes,” Veronica said cautiously as she ran her fingers across an old-fashioned computer monitor, remembering the days when the massive beige monstrosities had been considered hi-tech innovations. “Are you the real Winston? Or—”
The beautiful Vampire didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence as Winston rushed across the room and squeezed her vigorously, before kissing her lovingly. Veronica worried at first, fearing that it was some sort of insidious deception, before giving in and relaxing. She’d almost forgotten what her husband’s kiss felt like, and his overwhelming love and desire for her made her heart soar. Soon, they had both found their w
ay to the bed, and Veronica straddled Winston, preparing to rip his trousers right off, when she saw a white mask watching them from the window.
The Vampire Bloodmage gasped and came to her senses. She drew her sword, ready for a fight, but the Demon was long gone.
Winston rubbed his head with one hand and adjusted his crotch with the other. “Veronica, what’s going on?” he asked in confused. “Why are we in my house?”
“You don’t know?” Veronica replied, shocked. “We’re not in your house—technically, we’re in your head. Cherriesa sent me inside your mind. It seems Omniosis, or at least part of an old spell of his, is taking control of you.”
Winston tilted his head to the side as though he was waiting for his wife to reveal the punchline to some strange joke, but when it didn’t come, he looked around like he was seeing the imaginary room for the very first time.
“Huh, you don’t say,” Winston said with a faint smile, before returning to his bed.
Veronica blinked madly. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?!”
“I don’t know. I’m so confused.” He giggled like he was stoned.
The Vampire Bloodmage pulled him off the bed and slapped him across the face. “Snap out of it!”
“Ouch, shit,” Winston complained moodily. “Hang on—we just did this, but I… oh, shit! I sent you flying through a door! I am so, so sorry, sweetie!”
Veronica took a step backwards. “You remember that?”
Winston nodded and rubbed his temples. “Yeah, sort of. I don’t think it was really me, but still, I’m so sorry! I’ll make it up to you somehow, sweetie, I promise!”
Veronica frowned. “Explain to me what the past year has been like for you, personally.”
Winston scratched his chin. “Well, it was all going well until right after the merger, when the mask appeared on my face for the first time. But Omniosis made me forget—until now, I guess,” he mused. “Then it’s… been a bit cloudy, I guess. Sometimes I’m here, sometimes I’m not.” Winston shrugged as he lay back down. “I try not to think about it too much. It hurts my head. How’s your year been, honey?” he asked lazily.
“Like hell.” The busty Vampire yanked her husband back off the bed. “Your mind is being taken over, and you want to hang out here? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“I don’t know,” Winston replied defensively, visibly offended. “You try having an Archmage seize your psyche and get back to me on how it feels.”
Veronica grabbed his hand and yelled at the ceiling, “Cherriesa, I’ve found Winston—get us out of here!”
“No, you’ve found a slither of him,” Winston’s old PC buzzed, showing a heavily pixelated face of Cherriesa on its old screen. “You haven’t fixed anything. Try attacking Omniosis…”
“The Archmage isn’t here!” Veronica yelled at the computer screen.
“Then find him!” Cherriesa shouted back with aggravation, as the screen shattered.
The Vampire Bloodmage growled, and Winston yawned; she promptly tugged him away from the bed.
“You know you can stay in bed with me, right?” Winston told her naughtily. “My parents won’t mind. They’re dead, after all.”
Veronica gasped at Winston’s sudden change of tone, and she couldn’t think of what to say. She registered a tiny movement near the window and launched her sword towards it. The Spell-forged steel pierced through a white-masked Demon clinging to the outside of the building and ignited it in a flash of white fire. Veronica then reimagined the sword in her hand and returned it to her scabbard, before giving Winston a comforting cuddle.
Winston waved a hand towards the room, repairing the damaged window without a second thought. “I killed them, Veronica. We never got on, but my actions killed them,” he said remorsefully.
“It wasn’t really your fault, and there was nothing you could’ve done,” Veronica said softly. “Everything that happened was just Fate’s will. The real world and the Gloom had to be merged, the source of magic had to be dispersed.”
“But everything else was my fault,” Winston replied guiltily. “Or was it Fate’s fault?” he asked himself in an arrogant voice.
“You made mistakes—what matters is that you went out of your way to put it right, Fate’s will or not,” Veronica said kindly.
“You’re right,” he said, giving his wife a quick kiss. “Now, fill me in on the details. What are we dealing with?”
Veronica noticed that her husband’s demeanour had changed significantly since she’d impaled the Demon outside, and she wondered if it had been keeping him sedated somehow.
“Out in the real world, you’ve been playing political mastermind and winning over everyone…” Veronica began, trying to think of the quickest way to sum it all up.
“Doesn’t sound that bad, but I’m assuming Omniosis made himself known with a bit of tyrannical fervour,” Winston concluded. “I remember bits and pieces—it’s hard to focus on where the Archmage ends and I begin—but I do know that I did some really messed up stuff,” he said, feeling like his head was on fire.
Veronica nodded, feeling as though it was her turn to feel guilty. “It’s been getting worse, but we all just thought you were loving the power as always. I should’ve known something wasn’t right. I mean, I did, but I just didn’t know how to handle it, and—”
Winston shushed her lovingly and combed his hand through her black hair softly. “You came for me, that’s all that matters, and we’ll both make up for it once we’re out. I can’t even tell you how long I was in my crappy old room. I don’t know why I didn’t just leave.”
“I think Omniosis was making you stupid,” Veronica replied, before teasing, “well, more than normal.”
Winston chuckled and kissed her. “I love you, Veronica Reynolds.”
“You’re alright,” Veronica said with her trademark wink. “When you’re not possessed, at least.”
“How’s the rest of the world?” Winston asked once he’d finished chuckling. “Are Darkheart and Corriztis still on the prowl? And has anyone checked out that structure on the other side of the planet?”
“Uh huh, they’re causing havoc as always, but Alice is closing in on them like a bloodhound,” Veronica answered confidently. “And I’ve sent the new chick Connie Lee off to the column with Genie-J.”
“Good, he’s definitely after that structure,” Winston replied airily.
“What does it lead to?” Veronica asked, before adding, “I had a pretty messed up vision about it.”
“I’m not sure. I just know that it’s doing something to Mydia, and that every power-mad Archmage craves whatever it leads to. Including me, I guess,” Winston replied with a sigh. “We need a plan. How do we fight Omniosis inside my own head?”
Veronica pulled a face. “I was hoping that you’d know. I did kill a weird scorpion-version of him in the forest, but I don’t think it achieved much.”
Winston pursed his lips. “If this is all in my head, then maybe there are clues in the places that mean something to me, or at significant landmarks. If not, I haven’t got a clue,” he said gravely.
“Hotel Noir, Praetor’s Pride, Central Isle,” Veronica listed. “I was going to head over to the Open Vein next.”
The Book Wielder nodded his head. “Open Vein it is, then.”
“A date inside your mind… I feel so loved,” Veronica joked, feeling at ease around her lover.
Winston laughed as he walked down the stairs, but yelped sharply when he was confronted with the golem-like forms of his parent’s graves. They had moved into the hallway, leaving their stone armchairs behind, and the dirt-laden floor was swarming with worms and creepy-crawlies.
Veronica reached out to pull Winston away from the statues, but her hand went straight through her husband’s shoulder and she almost fell down the stairs. Winston was frozen in horror; however, the lifeless depictions of his parents didn’t move, but just stared angrily up at their son. Veronica looked down at the sinister
assortment of insects, some of which looked native to the Gloom, and figured that they were more threatening than the golems. She shot a flutter of blood magic bolts across the floor, and the bugs popped and sizzled.
“Come on, sweetie,” Veronica said softly. She attempted to take Winston by the hand, but her fingers passed right through his own. “Winston, look at me—Winston!”
Winston snapped his gaze away from the petrifying statues of his mother and father, and looked into his wife’s crimson red eyes. “I don’t feel so good. I think I should go back upstairs,” he said feebly.
“No way, mister,” Veronica told him fiercely. “There’s a world full of people depending on you. Mydia’s in trouble, and if you don’t snap out of it then there’ll be even more loss and tragedy.”
Winston shook his head rapidly. “You’re right,” he said finally, taking the Vampire’s cold hand, solid in her own once more. “Mum, Dad—I’m sorry,” he began, facing the hallway’s stone guardians. “I never meant for you to get hurt.”
The statues creaked an acknowledgement but remained stationary, so Veronica squeezed past them with Winston in tow.
“I never met your parents in real life,” Veronica said quietly, as she tiptoed in-between roasted insects.
“They would’ve hated you,” Winston replied with a smile, imagining the awful scenario.
Veronica laughed as she held the front door open for Winston. “I figured that would be the case,” she said, cringing slightly when she saw that the statues had moved again while they were out of eyeshot.
“Well, Dad would’ve loved you, but he would’ve denied it for Mum’s sake,” Winston chuckled, searching his pockets for a car key.
“It would probably be quicker to walk,” Veronica said, turning her lip up at the rusted old car.
“Not if we have to go further afield,” Winston challenged, before looking around at the drab interpretation of Woodsholme. “I take it this place carries on like the proper world?”
“From what I’ve seen,” Veronica replied unsurely. “Some imagination you have, huh?”