"Please," she continued, moving her shivering arm toward him. "It's me — Mallory." She cleared her throat and straightened her arm. The princess was able to make contact with The Bull's gigantic fist without being sliced and diced. She struggled to stand but eventually did it. She massaged his arm — past the veins and steel — and he let her. He seemed to be staring at the ground in disappointment.
"See?" she smiled. "Everything's fine. I think it's just a corruption spell."
As if the word "corruption," was the worst word in his dictionary, The Bull's head rose furiously and he screamed. Mallory barely dodged a steel blade to her face. His thrust sent a gust of wind that could've slapped Mallory unconscious if it connected. Then he went for the kill.
But before she was touched, The Bull was pushed away. A venue of nearly twenty vultures was pecking the beast with incredible ferocity. The sound of their pecks sounded like boxing gloves pounding flesh. Behind the princess, both Jayce and Mallory saw Brenden, Jett, and what looked to be a black freakin' panther with a spiked collar coming their way. Lincoln was strolling calmly behind them. He wiped the remnants of Spern juice from his mouth. He looked pissed.
The vultures couldn't hold The Bull down. Soon enough, the venue was forced to flee. The Bull had created a tornado of black blood and feathers before rising to his feet.
As soon as he rose, the black panther leaped at The Bull. It wasn't strong enough to do much besides give it a slight spin, but it made a decent distraction for the Goths. Then the princess was lifted from the ground like a lion's cub. But what picked her up was something Jayce hadn't seen since binge-watching Underworld when he was younger. It was a tall, black werewolf with blood-red eyes that stood on two legs. The creature was taller than The Bull, and its sharp claws and fangs threatened a good match between the two. He howled so loud above Mallory that everybody was forced to cover their ears — including Jayce and The Bull.
The werewolf shoved Mallory toward Jayce. However, The Bull's instincts were astounding. He grabbed Mallory mid-air, sucking the breath out of her as he pulled her back and threw her in the grass.
As if things weren't terrible already, Jayce noticed that The Bull was clearly winning his fight against the entities who came from nowhere to protect Mallory. After being circled by her four protectors (and a new venue of vultures), The Bull was able to use an incredible roar to back them up. When Brenden went to pick Mallory up, The Bull sent swift jabs of steel toward the halfling. He was forced away from Mallory, but able to dodge everything besides a cut to the shoulder that sent him scurrying away in pain.
Then The Bull charged for the large, black panther. The panther leaped from its crouching position but was met with a swift stab to its stomach. Another stab rendered the panther helpless. The Bull swung the body to keep the others away from Mallory. Then the Werewolf pounced. The Bull grunted, throwing the panther's body away from the action, as it felt teeth sink into its shoulder. Jayce had already begun running and almost hit into a neighbor's wooden fence after his eyes became transfixed on the panther's body. It transformed into what looked to be a naked, lifeless human lying on their chest with a black choker around their neck.
Jayce saw The Bull get a good hold on the Werewolf. Although it was able to crunch a large chunk of The Bull's shoulder off, he was thrown away like garbage. The Bull threw him so hard the Werewolf crashed into one of the elementary school's brick walls nearly fifty yards away. Then the princess stood up. She had had enough and tried to pounce on The Bull with her Vampiric fangs released. She was dealt a similar fate, having been caught off guard by a backhand so powerful that her body was surely mangled within the jungle gym Jayce used to find comforting.
Lincoln was nowhere in sight. Brenden was the only Goth left standing. Jayce had made it closer to his home than he ever expected, but he was too stunned to leave. He watched as Brenden tried to escape the wrath of the beast. As The Bull marched toward him, easily matching his incredible run across the field, Brenden made one last-ditch attempt to perform a hit and run. The Bull grunted when it felt Brenden's teeth sink into its shoulder. Unlike the others' teeth, Brenden's caused The Bull noticeable pain. He nearly died by The Bull's gut reaction to poke its arm at its shoulder, but he was able to release his grip and viciously bite the Minotaur's broad back. Black blood poured from The Bull, as it turned around and sent its fastest strikes at Brenden. Jayce knew he should run, but he couldn't. He had to see the outcome.
Brenden ducked and dodged The Bull, sinking his teeth into the Minotaur numerous times. But, as said before, The Bull was playing 4D Chess. It began to throw slow strikes at Brenden on purpose to catch him off guard. Whenever Brenden tried to run, it hopped forward and tripped him before he could accelerate. It had made the choice to sacrifice dealing with the pain of Brenden's Vampiric bites — that shredded through its thick skin like tracing paper — just to get a final blow on the Spern.
And it worked. One stab to Brenden turned to a great many, and soon enough the Gothic visitor was lifted into the moonlight by The Bull's blades. Jayce watched in horror as The Bull released its right arm from Brenden and swiped the older teen's head clean off. He gasped before turning away to avoid seeing any more of the black blood that emitted from Brenden's body.
He couldn't take any more. This attack rivaled the shooting already, but the added supernatural events that occurred made him question life in general. He quickly made it through his neighbor's backyard and into his home. He bumped past everybody — tears in his eyes — with his hands shaking as they covered his mouth. Jayce locked himself in his room and refused to come out.
The Bull had been summoned to Gatsby.
11
The Facade
Mallory woke up to the sound of voices.
“Keep them back until we get this cleaned!
“Don’t touch her until they get here.”
“This thing will be the end of Gatsby.”
“You think?”
“How in the world will we keep this from the public? There’s only so much you can pivot the truth before even the dumbest sheep find out.”
Mallory peeked to see where the voices were coming from. Her eyes were slapped with red and blue lights.
“Bats!” she mumbled.
When she opened her eyes again, she saw an army of men in black uniforms and clean badges surrounding the area. G.P.D. was plastered on the side of their vehicles.
The police. I’ve got to get away.
Mallory was scared of the police. The only instances she ever came in contact with them were when they were telling her and her friends to “move along” and “stop eating from trash cans. They’d even heard “get a job” before, but Mallory didn’t mind that piece of advice — though nobody would let her get one in reality. Being the princess was her job, in the eyes of the Gothic Realm. Master Loo had taught them that “the police are a powerful weapon — able to help you or hurt you, depending on how they view you. Treat them with respect, and you shall receive help. Treat them without mercy, and you shall receive hurt.” Mallory decided that she wouldn’t risk either, and planned to sneak away.
There was only one path back to the Fletcher’s, but the princess would have to run across a field and blow her cover. She did so, regardless of the consequences, and used her Gothic speed to outrun a group of police officers. They were nearly out of sight when she moved from the Fletcher’s backyard to their front door.
“Open the door!” she pleaded in a cold sweat. “Please! Open the—”
As soon as the door swung open, she pushed her way inside. Just like Jayce, Mallory brushed past Jim, ran to her room, and locked the door. She jumped into bed with Rebecca and pulled the blankets over her head.
“What’s wrong?” the socialite asked, setting her reading glasses on the table beside the bed. She had been busy figuring out why this “Rubik’s Cube” toy was tough to solve.
Mallory didn’t have it in her to explain the events that just happened. She pulled dow
n the blankets to look Rebecca in the eyes and shiver.
“Come here, dear,” said Rebecca, pulling Mallory up to lie on her chest. She gave Mallory the Rubik’s Cube to play with and the princess began working on it to relieve her stress. Rebecca hummed and gently ran her fingers through Mallory’s mess of curls. The strangest part was that Rebecca knew exactly where to massage. Her hand followed the trail of the aches and itches Mallory had and soothed it with just a few circling motions.
“Rebecca?”
“Yes?”
“I’m sorry.”
“I forgive you.”
Mallory set the Rubik’s Cube on the table and hid in Rebecca’s chest. She was too ashamed to look her foster mother’s best friend in the eyes.
“Why do you forgive me? You don’t even know what I’m talking about.”
“It doesn’t matter. We all make mistakes, dear — Sperns and humans, alike. Without forgiveness, there will never be peace.”
Easy to say without the facts. If only you knew that your only son is likely dead. All because I wanted to run away from my Gothic troubles.
The princess was sure Rebecca had superpowers. The large woman slid her palm down Mallory’s arm and clenched her hand.
“You are loved,” Rebecca whispered to the drowsy princess. “I’m sorry, too. I have had many sinful thoughts about eating you that I am highly remorseful for. We all have.”
“It’s not your fault,” Mallory corrected. “You’re just a victim of my terrible luck.”
“No, dear. The truth is disgusting. There isn’t a single Gothic being who doesn’t dream of piercing your flesh and lathering themselves in the blood of an Angel. It is too common to ignore. The curse lies in your innocence — not ours. I’m afraid we’ve brought about our own ‘bad luck’ for having such thoughts.”
“I don’t care,” Mallory lied. “Your theory is wrong. I’ll prove it.”
Mallory pulled her coat sleeve up and set her arm over her head and in front of Rebecca.
“Here,” the princess said. “Bite me. I’ll show you it’s my fault.”
“D-Dear,” Rebecca gulped. “Don’t do this.”
“You’re thirsty,” Mallory reminded her. “You’re hungry, you’re tired, and you haven’t eaten anything but human food in a while.” Mallory could feel Rebecca’s fingers dancing along her arm in confusion. Then came a wet poke from Rebecca’s tongue. The large woman’s entire body was quivering with lust.
“A-Are you s-sure?” Rebecca asked.
“Just do it.”
Chomp!
Mallory felt Rebecca’s retractable fangs pierce her flesh. The large woman squeezed Mallory’s legs between her hips — her hands latched to the princess’s arm like a cougar to its prey. Blood seeped from Mallory’s arm, but like all Gothic energy, it would disappear into the air within several minutes. Rebecca didn’t mind the puddle of blood on her chest. She cried in joy before falling into a deep slumber from her drunken state.
The princess cried. She grasped onto Rebecca and let it all out. The Rubik’s Cube on the table beside them was the only witness to this bizarre scene. But it was too impressed to tell a soul. Despite the madness, Mallory had completed it with ease.
12
The Plan
Gatsby, Pennsylvania (East) — February 12th, 2018
Mallory was dreaming again. In this particular one, she was lying under a full moon. Jayce was beside her. They were smiling and holding hands as the moonlight shined its grace upon them.
“Are you ready?” he asked the princess.
Ready for what?
Mallory’s dream-self had the answer she didn’t. She spun over and sat on him, preparing herself for what came next.
Jayce closed his eyes and smirked. He squeezed the dirt beneath his palms, thrusting multiple veins for Mallory to choose from on his neck. He was ready.
Mallory went in for her bite. As soon as her fangs touched his skin, the dream melted away.
The princess woke up to find inky blood all over. She checked her arm. Her uninterrupted rest had healed it tremendously. The only remaining signs of Rebecca were two fang marks. Right beside the princess, Rebecca was growling in her sleep — her body twitching like a stereotypically crazy psych patient. She had rolled over on her chest and began licking and biting the blanket and bed sheets. She wanted the blood of an Angel, even in her sleep.
Mallory patted her nose to confirm it was her, and not Rebecca, who was bleeding profusely. In most cases, she’d be embarrassed, but thankfully it was her this time. Just the thought of mounting Jayce for a bite nearly caused her nose to burst again, so she tried to forget about it by focusing on her escape. She made her exit, ever so quietly, leaving Rebecca to snarl and hiss on her own.
“Mallory,” came a deep voice. Her eyes widened. It was Jim. He stood from the couch, wiping away the tiredness from his eyes. “Is everything okay?” The princess answered by hugging the anguished father. “Is she okay?” he added, referring to Rebecca. Jim felt Mallory nod in his chest. Jim knew Rebecca was reeling from “eating too much” last night, but he never expected to hear the muffled noises that were coming from their room. He changed the subject.
“Have you seen the news?” he continued. Jim returned to the couch to grab the remote and turn up the television.
Mallory held Jim for comfort as she watched the news anchors lie to her face. Despite the claims of numerous 9-1-1 calls in their area reporting: “Howling, grunting, and yelling at one o’clock in the morning,” the Gatsby Police Department found nothing “out of the ordinary.” Their official report blamed it on stray wolves who’d found their way to the area from the forests on the outskirts of eastern Gatsby. They said nothing about the black blood Mallory saw being sprayed all over the field. They said nothing about the bodies the police must’ve collected, or at least come across, during their investigation. They said nothing on the raging bull that had somehow escaped Mallory’s imagination and threatened to ruin her reality.
The princess sunk her head deeper into Jim’s arms. She wanted to die.
“There’s breakfast upstairs,” he told her. She remembered the one time she saw the untouched plate and questioned if the Fletchers made it for her. They did. The Fletchers cared.
While eating her breakfast — bacon, scrambled eggs, sliced potatoes, and toast; with a side plate of pancakes — Mallory brainstormed ways to salvage her life. She was happy the Fletchers remembered that she ate a lot, and that helped her stay positive — even if she’d be puking it out later.
Should I tell the Fletchers everything? Nah.
Go and find the others? No.
Go and find Lincoln? Heavens no!
Give up and give in? Why not?
“What happened last night?” Jim finally interrupted to ask. He had been standing behind Mallory the whole time — watching as she ate like a savage. This is not an over exaggeration either, as she knew how to use utensils, but opted to set her gloves aside and eat everything with her bare hands.
“I don’t know,” she lied.
“You came barreling in at one in the morning,” Jim reminded her. “Jayce was the same way.”
“We were playing hide and seek. It gets scary sometimes.”
“Didn’t look like a game to me.”
Mallory glared at Jim.
“Where’re the others?” he continued.
The princess shrugged. She hurried over to the sink, washed her hands, wiped them off, and then set her gloves back on.
“I’ll be upstairs.”
Mallory was banging on Jayce’s door a few moments after escaping Jim’s interrogation. She couldn’t stand lying to him. It felt like bullying.
Surprisingly, it was Todd who answered the door. The tune “Die, Die My Darling,” by The Misfits was blaring from Jayce’s computer.
“Jayce,” Todd called over his shoulder. “It’s that friend of yours. The boy.”
“I’m not a boy,” Mallory giggled.
“Yea
h you are,” Todd assured her.
Jayce peeked beside his grandfather before pulling Mallory in and locking the door behind the trio. Todd’s entire arsenal of weapons — plus some — was laid out on his grandson’s bed.
“I’ll give you one more chance,” Jayce warned Mallory. “Tell me everything you know.”
Mallory cleared her throat.
“I don’t want any excuses. Spit out what you know or I’m taking you with them.”
Huh?
“You heard me. I’m killing them all — The Enterprise, the police, your friends . . . I’m done with this shit.”
“And I’m helpin’ him,” added Todd. “I’ve been tellin’ people ‘bout this day since Clinton got elected.”
“That’s not the point,” said Jayce. He picked up one of the few assault rifles lying on the bed and held it toward the ceiling. “Tell us everything and I’ll spare you — even if you are one of them.” Jayce must not have seen her pounce toward Bernardo. Good. But there was no denying that she was something. How did a human return home without a hospital visit after a slap like that?
“I’ll confess,” said Mallory. Todd’s eyes widened as he moved closer to the princess, but Jayce pulled him back. He didn’t want their curiosity killing them.
“I’m not a Spern,” Mallory announced.
“Spern? What’s that?”
“It’s short for supernatural beings. It’s a casual term where I come from.”
“So, you’re not British?”
“No,” Mallory admitted. “I’m not.”
“Then what are you? Say it!”
“I don’t know where I’m from,” she continued. “I was kidnapped as a child and can’t remember anything before my tenth birthday.”
“Why didn’t you tell me this last night!?”
“I was scared.”
“No — it’s because you’re one of them. That’s why your blood’s so weird. You lied to me.”
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