《Just Pretend》 I Was Hoping You Wouldnt See Me Like This Heather''s comm buzzed and crackled as a desperate voice was broadcasted straight into her right ear. "Wolf spotted it in sector B! Go, go, go!" She winced, but the pain didn''t stop her. She didn''t have any time to worry about shattered eardrums. The prison was on lockdown. The blaring red and white alarms overpowered the sound of her black combat boots pounding the concrete floors as she ran. The alarms were already loud, but the stainless steel walls helped to amplify the sound, making it almost unbearable to anyone who wasn''t trained to tolerate them. The prisoners also seemed agitated; even from behind the large red automatic doors that separated each room from the hallway, she could hear them wailing and tearing apart their cells. Heather slowed down as she approached the location of the escaped prisoner. She crept through an empty corridor, her gun at the ready. She breathed deeply, keeping her heart steady in her chest, but she still had a healthy amount of adrenaline flowing through her veins as she slowly rounded the corner. The beast stood not far from her. It was skulking at the end of the hallway, its black fur shimmering under the fluorescent lights. She took aim, and, holding her breath as she always did while taking a shot, fired. A yellow paintball exploded on the back of the beast¡¯s neck, and he let out a yelp. Noah ripped off the werewolf mask, turning to face his assailant. Heather, a tiny but muscular Boricua whose paintball gun looked gigantic in proportion to her, grinned fiercely. ¡°I would have paid to see the look on your face,¡± she said. ¡°Too bad you were wearing that stupid mask so I can¡¯t even see it on the tapes.¡± Noah glared at her. ¡°Lucky shot.¡± He jumped, another paintball hitting him square between the shoulderblades. Josh had snuck up on his other side, and jokingly blew on the top of his gun as if it were capable of smoking. ¡°Prick,¡± Noah growled. A nearby set of steel doors slid open with a quiet woosh of air. A tall, intimidating dark skinned woman of around fifty entered the corridor, her face as cold as the building. It was Warden Montgomery, Heather¡¯s boss. Heather quickly took the stance she had been trained to for years - shoulders squared, feet planted parallel to each other, back straight, head held high. The men did the same. The alarms had since shut down, making the halls eerily quiet, aside from the occasional wail of a forlorn prisoner. ¡°Excellent drill today,¡± Warden Montgomery said. ¡°Though I do hope you don¡¯t intend to goof around during an actual breach.¡± ¡°Of course not, ma¡¯am,¡± Heather said. ¡°We understand the gravity of the situation. If an actual prison break were to occur, I assure you everyone would step up. They may be goofy when things aren¡¯t dire, but they¡¯re still here for a reason.¡± The other guards quickly nodded, accepting Heather¡¯s life raft. Montgomery smiled, a rare sight, and gave Heather a nod of approval. ¡°I appreciate you whipping these boys into shape. It¡¯s precisely why I made you the supervisor of this section. Now, if you excuse me, I have other training drills to conduct.¡± She walked away, and the moment she was out of sight, the relief was palpable. ¡°Jeez, that woman makes me piss my pants,¡± Noah said. ¡°Thanks for the backup, Heather.¡± Heather shrugged. ¡°I started it, it¡¯s only fair I get you out of it.¡± The three of them walked towards the break room, Heather not unaware of the two men snickering. She glanced over her shoulder at them as they trailed behind her, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Problem?¡± ¡°Nothing you need to be worried about,¡± Josh said, a goofy grin on his face. She couldn¡¯t help but smile back. She was well aware the younger man had a crush on her. It was almost flattering, in a way, but with his swoopy blonde hair and lopsided grin she couldn¡¯t help but see him as a dorky kid. He wasn¡¯t actually that young, but he certainly wore his youth on his face. They finally arrived in the break room; a cramped space with not much more than a fridge, a coffee maker, and a table. Heather opened the door to find most of the guards she was in charge of standing around a sweaty chocolate cake. There was just one candle on top of it - a glittery chunk of wax that spelled out the number ¡®33.¡¯ Heather¡¯s fight or flight response immediately kicked in, but it was too late to escape. She was trapped. ¡°Happy Birthday, Hall!¡± Mateo, a gentle giant of a man, bellowed. They all broke into song, and Heather wanted nothing more than for the floor beneath her to turn to quicksand and swallow her whole. But it didn¡¯t, and she had to suffer through the attention she was getting from her coworkers. ¡°Make a wish,¡± Isla, the newest recruit, urged. I wish to drop dead, Heather thought as she blew out the gaudy birthday candles. Everyone clapped and cheered. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t you all be at your stations?¡± Heather urged. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Todd and Phil took one for the team and are watching the cameras,¡± said Mateo. ¡°We¡¯re not being reckless here, we just wanted to take a few minutes to do something nice for ya. Montgomery said we could.¡± Heather¡¯s face flushed at the thought. Warden Montgomery hated fun, comradery, and celebrations in general on principle. The embarrassing idea that her boss may favor her unfairly crossed her mind. If she got her position because Montgomery liked her personally as opposed to because of her skill and experience, she very much wanted to actually drop dead. ¡°What¡¯s wrong with you?¡± Isla asked. ¡°You look like a spooked horse.¡± ¡°Have you ever even seen a horse?¡± Honestee, a cynical young brunette, questioned. ¡°Ye-yeah!¡± Isla insisted. ¡°My parents took me to the mountains once and we went horseback riding! On a hiking trail.¡± ¡°In the woods?!¡± Honestee balked. ¡°Bullshit.¡± ¡°That¡¯s enough,¡± Heather said. ¡°I don¡¯t care who saw what, I just want some of my cake. I deserve it after listening to y¡¯all caterwaul like that.¡± The group laughed, and Mateo sliced the cake, giving Heather a very generous portion. ¡°Noah made it himself,¡± the man said with a wink. Noah¡¯s freckled cheeks flushed red. ¡°You swore you wouldn¡¯t tell!¡± ¡°Awww,¡± Josh said. ¡°Now I almost feel bad for shooting you in the back.¡± ¡°You guys seriously need to stop! My wife says I look like a fucking leopard.¡± The others laughed at his expense. Heather sat down, putting her feet up on the table and genuinely enjoying her short break. The cake wasn¡¯t half bad, actually. Suddenly Porsha, a short haired woman with a mean scar going straight through her patched right eye, burst into the room. She was one of the oldest of the Sector C gang, and it showed in her attitude. Well, that and her salt-and-pepper hair. Everything about her made it obvious she was a veteran of the war. ¡°We figured it wouldn¡¯t be fitting to give you normal presents,¡± she said. ¡°So we picked through the shit in the storage lockers.¡± Heather frowned, her dark brows knitting together. ¡°You mean the ones where we keep what was on the prisoners?¡± ¡°No, I stole them from the locker rooms.¡± Porsha rolled her eyes. ¡°Yes from the prisoners! What do they fuckin¡¯ care? They stole it in the first place; we¡¯re just stealin'' it back.¡± Heather sighed deeply. It wasn¡¯t necessarily against protocol to take things from prisoners - well, on paper it was, but almost everybody let it slide. Hell, even Montgomery didn¡¯t mind as long as it wasn¡¯t publicly flaunted. That being said, she minded it, if only because it was technically against the rules. But it wasn¡¯t like they would ever get their stuff back regardless... She opened the lid of the box. She gasped at what she saw - jewelry, candy, unopened cosmetics, and other simple pleasures she hadn¡¯t been able to enjoy in a while. She felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes. ¡°Wow, guys, I¡­ I don¡¯t know what to say.¡± Mateo wrapped her in a bear hug. ¡°That¡¯s fine, ¡®cause what we have to say is all there, baby. We know you and Ry have been struggling to keep the house as is, so you don¡¯t have much to spare for the stuff you want. Now, here it is.¡± ¡°Not exactly everything,¡± Honestee corrected. ¡°It¡¯s not like the storage lockers are a shopping mall. But, it¡¯s pretty close. You complained about running out of foundation, and we know your favorite candy is chocolate¡­ basically, we scrounged up what we could.¡± ¡°This is really thoughtful,¡± Heather said softly. ¡°Thank you.¡± She stuck around for a few more minutes, admiring what was given to her before taking her leave so she could go back to her duties. She still had a few more hours until her shift ended, and there was plenty of work that needed to be done before she clocked out. She stuck the box in her locker before heading to the monitor room, where all the footage from the cells was constantly reviewed. Besides having people positioned in certain areas, this was how they kept an eye on the prisoners. It was much safer than being inside the room with them, even if several inches of unbreakable glass separated the monsters from anything outside of their cells. She walked up to Todd and Phil, who were watching a certain monitor intently. She looked over their shoulders, wanting to make sure there was nothing suspicious going on in the cell. To her disgust, she found it was a female vampire showering. The monsters didn¡¯t have the privilege of curtains or tubs; their showers were composed of a showerhead and a drain in the tile floor. So really, unless they wanted to shower in their underwear, there was nothing to protect their dignity. This, she noticed, was a loophole the more chauvinistic guards took frequent advantage of. ¡°You realize the only part of you she¡¯d suck on is your jugular, right?¡± Heather questioned, strategically concealing her anger. ¡°Oh come on,¡± Phil said, ¡°I can still have an imagination. I mean, look at this thing. It¡¯s got a rack like a¡­¡± He trailed off, most of the blood that could have been going to his brain having spread other places. ¡°Man, I wish we¡¯d get technicolor video already," Todd chimed in. "I wanna know if the carpet matches the drapes!¡± Heather rolled her eyes, having to swallow her disdain. Not that she exactly empathized with the vampire; she knew better than to view her the same way she would a human woman. Regardless, it was hard to hear things like that said about a body that had the same outward anatomy as hers. Instead of going off, however, she took her chummy approach. Scanning the thumbnail views of other security footage, she quickly pulled up a video of another vampire, this one a shirtless male doing pushups. ¡°That¡¯s better.¡± The two men laughed, and having safely averted the situation without stepping on any land mines, she addressed them in a more serious manner. ¡°It¡¯s up to us to protect the people of New Wilmington. If a prisoner managed to escape because you were too busy gawking at vampire tits, I¡¯m not going down for it. You are.¡± ¡°Yes ma¡¯am,¡± the Dumb and Dumber chuckled. They quickly went back to flipping through footage the way they were supposed to. Satisfied, Heather walked away. She went into her office, which was basically just a glorified janitor¡¯s closet. As a supervisor, she had some authoritative duties, as well as some privileges. This included being able to look at prisoner files. She found herself distracted at the computer, pulling up the file of the vampire the boys had been gawking at based on her cell number. It was 3759. She was beautiful for sure. Not that there was a vampire who wasn¡¯t. They were built to be apex predators: strong and agile, with acute senses and sharp fangs. Their faces could contort into something monstrous, but until they showed their true nature, it was impossible to distinguish them from a conventionally attractive human. That was the problem with the main monsters they dealt with - werewolves even more so, as they looked exactly like normal people. In fact, those were the closest to humans of all, they just happened to have the ability to shapeshift into bloodthirsty, wolf-like beasts. Heather stared at the vampire for another moment, images of her washing her hair ingrained into brain for the moment. ¡°You can¡¯t fall for it,¡± she mumbled to herself. ¡°This is why we don''t stay in those rooms. It¡¯s far too easy for them. They were born to play with hearts¡­ so they can rip ¡®em out after.¡± She closed the file, leaning back in her chair. Now it was time for her ¡°favorite¡± part of the night: motivating herself to do paperwork. At 7am, Heather clocked out, managing to finish her duties on time. She said goodnight - or, good morning - to her coworkers before heading back to her car. It was an old red SUV, but it was hard to import any products into New Wilmington, let alone cars. She heard they were gonna build a Tesla factory, but she doubted it. That sounded like a pipe dream for her compound. A booming tech industry was not exactly what they offered, though there was still enough product (and enough cardiovascular systems) to keep the monsters flooding in. She drove for a few minutes until she got to one of the only grocery stores in the compound. It happened to be one of the cheaper ones, thus it tended to be flooded with business. Though not exactly at that hour of the morning, which was why Heather planned to do her shopping instead of just going straight home and to bed. She walked through the front doors, the near-empty store feeling almost as isolating as the corridors had been. The only cashier working at that hour was perched on a stool, reading a novel and looking bored out of her mind. Rylan and Heather were only vaguely similar. Rylan straightened her hair daily and wore it in a much shorter bob cut, was desperately near-sighted which required her to wear a pair of black framed spectacles, and had several tattoos up and down her arms, something Heather had never desired to get. She, arguably, was the cooler sister, though Heather was the one who was actually tough. Rylan couldn''t even squish a bug without getting squeamish. Heather smiled, walking up to the register and leaning over the counter to knock on her sister''s head. ¡°Hey, space cadet, have you done any work yet?¡± Rylan snapped to attention, only calming down when she saw who her assailant was. She closed the book, using a piece of receipt paper to mark her place. ¡°I¡¯ve only had three customers so far.¡± ¡°Oh, it¡¯ll pick up I¡¯m sure.¡± ¡°You¡¯re preaching to the choir on that one. I don¡¯t even know if we have enough food for everyone; especially if new people start moving in.¡± Heather shrugged. While summer was considered a relatively safe time of year to move between compounds, she doubted many people would think of New Wilmington as a better place to be. ¡°That hasn¡¯t become a problem yet and I doubt it will this year. Besides, we maintain the right to turn people down at the gates.¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t stop you from letting monsters in.¡± ¡°Correction: that doesn¡¯t stop them from finding a way in.¡± Heather sighed. ¡°People need to stop underestimating their intelligence. The more we treat them like animals, the more lax people get. They may act like full on beasts at times, but they have the same anatomy as us, which includes the same capacity for intelligence.¡± Rylan leaned back in her seat, at least as much as she could without falling off of it. ¡°Welllll, the ¡®same¡¯ anatomy is a bit of a stretch. Though I¡¯ll tell you right now, I¡¯d kill to do magic.¡± ¡°Oh, you¡¯d definitely become a killer. Witches are the worst of all of them.¡± ¡°And they¡¯re the only ones we can do nothing about¡­¡± Rylan trailed off. ¡°We¡¯re finding ways!¡± Heather assured her. Rylan smiled, pushing her glasses further up her nose. ¡°So how was work, Monster Hunter?¡± Heather¡¯s tan cheeks flushed with red as she remembered. ¡°They ambushed me with a birthday party.¡± Her sister laughed aloud. ¡°Oh, ouch. They didn¡¯t sing you happy birthday, did they?¡± ¡°That they did.¡± ¡°Wow. I don''t even hate you enough to do that.¡± Heather threw a mock punch in her sister¡¯s direction, but the younger woman barely flinched. ¡°Alright, birthday girl, pick yourself up some birthday treats.¡± Heather pinched the bridge of her nose. ¡°You¡¯re like sandpaper on my nerves. If you really wanna celebrate my birthday, then shut up about it.¡± ¡®Never!¡± Rylan cried defiantly. ¡°Now go treat yourself before I do it for you.¡± ¡°With what money?¡± Rylan opened her book back up. ¡°Pff. Exactly.¡± Heather boredly circled the store, finding her way to the meat department. Or, well, it wasn¡¯t really meat. Most compounds couldn¡¯t obtain much of the real thing, as farming animals was expensive and required a lot of land. They couldn¡¯t just use hydroponics for pigs like they could for vegetables. Thus, most of their meat was plant based. But Heather found her eyes wandering to a large chicken - a genuine one. Her mouth watered. She could live without meat, but she still craved it from time to time. It taunted her. And so did the price tag. ¡°Jesus, I¡¯d have to work eighty hours a week to afford that,¡± she mumbled under her breath. She cruised away from it, picking up a package of plant-based chicken wings instead. As she continued to browse, a familiar song started to play over the loudspeaker. The store was known to play music produced in the far western compounds, mainly cookie-cutter pop, and she immediately recognized the song. She found herself humming along as her fingers hovered over loaves of bread. She was nearly startled by loud singing. One of the voices she recognized as her sister¡¯s, but the other, masculine voice was completely foreign to her. She peered around the corner of the aisle, finding her sister standing at the front of the register she was stationed at. Next to her, singing just as loudly - though much more in key - was a tall, handsome man she¡¯d never seen before. She drank him in, mouth agape, despite the fact he was objectively being a giant dork in that he was belting along to a Taylor Swift song as if it was his moral duty. His skin was a rich medium brown, his eyes the color of freshly brewed coffee, and his tousled black hair looked soft to the touch. Her knuckles paled as she gripped onto the handle of her shopping cart without realizing it, unable to avert her gaze. The song finally faded out, being replaced by the next cheesy pop song in the rotation. Rylan and the stranger stood there, breathing heavily as if they''d just run a marathon, but managed a high five. ¡°God, I haven¡¯t heard that song in forever,¡± the man said as he brushed his long hair back into place. ¡°It''s one of those things you know every word of but wouldn¡¯t seek out on your own.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± Rylan said. ¡°Not my taste, though. I mean, not to sound like a pretentious bitch, but I like the old stuff, yanno? Things that are really hard to find but still managed to get archived somewhere. I like to feel like I¡¯m saving it from being forgotten, yanno?¡± ¡°That¡¯s pretty cool, actually. As long as you don¡¯t think you¡¯re better than anybody else because of it.¡± ¡°Oh no. I mean, I do, but for unrelated reasons.¡± The two laughed, and the man grabbed a nearby cart that already had a decent amount of groceries in it. He sang along to the song playing as he walked away, though at a much more reasonable volume this time. Rylan finally locked eyes with her sister, and one of her thick eyebrows raised. ¡°The fuck¡¯s your problem?¡±The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Heather rushed over to her, her heart pounding in her chest despite the fact she was trying to keep her wits about her. ¡°Who was that?¡± Rylan looked confused for a second until things finally clicked in her head. She let out a wheezing laugh, a wide grin now spread across her face. ¡°Oh my God. You know I saw him first, right?¡± ¡°Just tell me who he is, idiot.¡± Rylan chewed her lip for a second, thinking. ¡°I really don¡¯t know much about him. He just pops in every so often to get groceries. I think he might be one of those weirdos that lives on the Outskirts¡­ but shit, I¡¯d live in a dilapidated building if he''d be my roommate.¡± Heather held back a snort. ¡°Name?¡± ¡°Chris. Don¡¯t know what it¡¯s short for, that¡¯s all I know about him. It makes him sexy and mysterious¡­ almost too mysterious.¡± She narrowed her eyes in mock suspicion, watching him agonize over the sparse apple selections in the distance. ¡°If he¡¯s gotten in more than once, then I don¡¯t see a problem.¡± Their way of screening people, while not foolproof, certainly prevented many of the creatures who attempted to get in from entering the compound. In fact, many of the monsters in the prison had been stopped and detained at the entrance. Heather walked away from her sister, continuing to grab things she had on her list, as well as picking up a pack of snack cakes, as per Rylan''s advice. She also thought about making herself a proper cake, as the one gifted to her at work had been devoured by her coworkers. Rylan couldn¡¯t miss out, that wouldn¡¯t be fair. She walked into the baking aisle, freezing when she saw Chris again. He was scanning a shelf with bags of sugar on it, finally picking a large bag. A waterfall of sugar immediately spilled from the bottom, and he let out a comical gasp, covering the gap with his hand. Heather couldn¡¯t repress the giggle rising in her throat, and Chris¡¯s head turned, his eyes locking with hers. She quickly looked down at her phone, embarrassed. ¡°You know,¡± Chris said, ¡°you¡¯d think that when we were rebuilding society, someone would have suggested we stop putting flour and sugar in paper bags. For the sake of everyone¡¯s sanity, at least. But nope, still the same shitty packaging. I don¡¯t - I don¡¯t even know what to do with this.¡± He flipped the bag upside down, tucking it under his arm. ¡°Because they all leak, but if I put this one back, I''d feel like I¡¯d be the asshole.¡± ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter,¡± Heather said. ¡°People still earn money for cleaning it up.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t mean they should have to in the first place¡­ screw it, I¡¯ll just take this one.¡± He placed it in the child seat of his cart, still upside down to prevent more spillage. ¡°Now watch it spill from the top,¡± Heather joked. Chris smiled: the genuine, friendly type of grin that was extremely contagious. Heather felt herself smile too. Chris moved on, however, walking further down the aisle to examine the spices. Heather took a deep breath, reassured herself it was fine and normal to be this lonely and single at thirty-two ¨C God, no, thirty-three now ¨C and went to go look at cake mixes as she¡¯d intended. But, as if whatever power existed above was taunting her, she ran into him a second time. That time in the line to check out - which honestly was inevitable, given how there was only one lane open. The next cashiers wouldn¡¯t arrive for another hour or so, which was when the morning rush would start. Heather pulled up behind Chris, sandwiching him between herself and an elderly woman she recognized as Mrs. Householder. Both Chris and Rylan were enchanted by the woman, and for good reason. She was arguably the sweetest person alive. ¡°And I know it¡¯s going to be a good day, because I found this.¡± Mrs. Householder pulled a penny out of her pocket. ¡°Headside up!¡± ¡°Uh, ¡®headside up?¡¯¡± Rylan asked, continuing to scan the woman¡¯s groceries and bagging them for her. ¡°Yes, it¡¯s an older superstition. You¡¯ve never heard it?¡± ¡°I mean, I¡¯m no spring chicken, but I haven¡¯t,¡± Rylan said. Mrs. Householder scoffed. ¡°How old are you? 21?¡± Rylan laughed. ¡°Generous of you. I¡¯m 30.¡± ¡°Well, Rylan, it¡¯s important to keep our cultures alive. Everyone, from people who look like me, to people who look like you, to people who look like him.¡± She motioned vaguely to Chris. ¡°Even mundane things like headsideup pennies bring good luck. Because if we ever lose that¡­ that¡¯s how the monsters would truly win.¡± Rylan nodded solemnly. Chris¡¯s expression stayed neutral as he stacked his items on the belt, though his face warmed when he noticed Heather. At least, she hoped it did. It seemed to? She looked away again quickly, only to be embarrassed of how she was acting. She was a grown woman, dammit! She could¡­ flirt. ¡°I, uh, like your shirt.¡± Heather offered. Chris looked down at what he was wearing as if he¡¯d forgotten what it¡¯d looked like, pulling on the collar. It was just a plain black v neck t-shirt, maybe a little worn with use. ¡°Thank you.¡± Heather, for the second time that day, wanted the floor to swallow her whole. ¡°...You¡¯re welcome.¡± Conversation came much more naturally for Chris, apparently, and he picked up the box of cake mix she had fit onto the now packed conveyor belt. ¡°Celebrating or snacking?" ¡°It¡¯s her birthday!¡± Rylan piped up, never passing up an opportunity to humiliate her older sister. ¡°Oh, happy birthday dear!¡± Mrs. Householder said. ¡°I second that,¡± Chris chimed in. Heather¡¯s ears went hot. ¡°Thank you-¡± ¡°She¡¯s thirty-three now," Rylan said. "Yanno, the age where you really start to get cobwebs up in there.¡± She motioned vaguely towards her crotch. Heather had to stamp the impulse to throw a can of biscuit dough at Rylan¡¯s head. Quickly gaining composure, she tugged at the sleeve of her uniform, unable to hide how shy she felt. ¡°I¡¯m thirty-three. Not that old.¡± ¡°Hey, me too,¡± Chris said. ¡°Technically, anyway.¡± ¡°Technically?¡± She could have sworn Chris panicked for a moment, but he recovered so quickly she wrote it off. ¡°My birthday¡¯s in December. So not yet.¡± ¡°Oh, happy almost birthday, sweetheart!¡± Mrs. Householder said, putting a hand on his bicep. Jesus, how was a seventy-eighty year-old woman better at macking on someone than she was? ¡°Thank you,¡± Chris said, giving the old woman''s hand a pat. Finally, the old woman left, and Chris¡¯s order was next. He leaned against the counter, watching Rylan scan his items. ¡°So, you two are sisters, I¡¯m guessing?¡± ¡°What gave it away?¡± Rylan asked, her tone teasing. ¡°Oh, I don¡¯t know. The facial structure, the natural rapport, the fact you didn¡¯t hesitate for even a second to publicly humiliate her.¡± Rylan laughed, and Heather lifted a hand to her wild mane of dark brown curls self consciously. It looked even crazier than usual, come to think of it, as she¡¯d been wearing it in a tight bun all night. The moment it was released, it had sprung out everywhere. She never usually cared, except for in that moment, with the handsome stranger¡¯s impossibly dark eyes regarding her. ¡°True that,¡± said Rylan. ¡°She is my personal punching bag.¡± ¡°And you¡¯re this close to being my literal punching bag,¡± Heather growled. Chris chuckled. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t take that idly, Ry, she¡¯s a guard after all.¡± Heather put a hand over her gun. ¡°Yes. I am authorized to use a firearm and I absolutely will, without hesitation.¡± Chris gave Rylan a coy smile. ¡°They¡¯re gonna find you at the bottom of the Cape Fear River one of these days.¡± Rylan raised her up her hands briefly. ¡°Okay, I liked this conversation a lot better when it was Heather getting ganged up on.¡± All three of them laughed. After a few minutes, Chris¡¯s transaction was finished. To Heather¡¯s shock, instead of paying with a card like most people, he paid in cash. Rylan, of course, wasn¡¯t fazed by it since he was a regular. She opened up the drawer of the register - Heather half expected there to be a puff of dust as she did so - and placed the cash inside. ¡°Have a good one,¡± she said as he placed the final bags into his cart. ¡°Right back at ya,¡± He looked to Heather, who was actually able to maintain eye contact. ¡°It was nice meeting you, Heather.¡± ¡°You too,¡± she offered, her voice unusually soft. He left the store, and Heather¡¯s eyes trailed after him. So did Rylan¡¯s. ¡°God, do I love a good ass on a dude,¡± she said. ¡°Very peggable.¡± ¡°Rylan, for fuck¡¯s sake!¡± Heather exclaimed. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t be a Puritan!¡± Heather let out a sigh, though she did briefly glance over to behold the sight. Her sister, while brash, wasn¡¯t wrong. ¡°You know what though?¡± Rylan continued. ¡°I¡¯ve decided I¡¯m mad at you.¡± Heather raised an eyebrow. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°Because he likes you. And if he ends up liking you more than he likes me, you are so dead.¡± ¡°What is this, middle school?¡± ¡°I¡¯m just saying.¡± Heather rolled her eyes as she began the process of punching her information into the pin pad. ¡°Look, he¡¯s sweet and handsome, but also clearly loaded. If the one in a million chance of him falling in love with one of us actually comes to fruition, the other¡¯ll still benefit.¡± Rylan looked at her in disbelief. ¡°Yeah, but only one of us would get to fuck him. I mean, I don¡¯t know if he¡¯s into that sort of thing, but I sure the fuck ain¡¯t.¡± ¡°I¡¯m just saying. Now please stop talking like that, you¡¯re at work for God¡¯s sake.¡± ¡°Fine.¡± Heather finished putting her remaining grocery bags in the cart, then turned back to her sister. ¡°...We could always rock-paper-scissors for him,¡± she offered as a joke. Rylan smirked. ¡°What is this, middle school?¡± Heather pushed her groceries out to her car, an amused smile still on her face from the earlier encounter. She opened up her door, ready to load the groceries into the backseat. She had brought more food than she intended, and sighed at the amount of money she spent - as well as at the amount of bags she was going to have to haul back to the house by herself. As she began the tedious process, she heard a car door slam, but thought nothing of it until a newly familiar voice called out to her. "You want some help with that?" Heather nearly jumped out of her skin. She looked over her shoulder to see Chris a few spots away. He had clearly been ready to go, his sunglasses on and his navy blue Subaru already loaded with all of his stuff. He leaned against his car, studying her, his teeth blindly white against his brown skin. "Well, if just you stand there and watch me you''d be an asshole, now wouldn''t ya?" Heather remarked. Accepting the invitation, Chris approached the car, taking a hand out of his pocket and sticking it towards her. "I was just thinking about how we didn''t have a proper introduction earlier. I''m Chris." Heather gingerly lifted her hand, placing it in his. His palms were so soft, immediately making her insecure about her own calloused hands. Wait, how did a guy even get biceps like that without lifting weights regularly? Maybe he just used a powerful moisturizer... "Heather," she finally managed to choke out. Chris pulled his hand away, immediately breaking the spell. "It''s a pleasure." He turned away, immediately pulling two handfuls of bags from her cart. "You''re aggressively southern. Are you from the mountains or something?" Heather shook her head, laughing. "Nah. My dad was though, that''s probably why. You, on the other hand, don''t sound like you''re from North Cackalacky at all. If I didn''t know any better, I''d accuse you of being a Yankee." "You got me. I''m a northern transplant." "...You''re from New York, aren''t you?" Chris cleared his throat awkwardly. "Yes. I don''t like to dwell on it though." Heather frowned. The state had become almost completely taken over by witches, aside from a few encampments of humans who refused to leave. She wondered if Chris had been part of the latter group. "I understand," Heather said. "So, how about you? Are you sure you''re not from the mountains?" Heather chuckled, shaking her head. "No, no, I''ve been here all my life. Never left New Wilmington and never will." Chris nodded, leaning against her car for a moment. The groceries had since been loaded, forcing Heather to just stand there and watch him, her pulse fluttering nervously. The dark sunglasses concealing his eyes made it impossible to tell what he was thinking. "So," he finally stated. "I think that I won''t be leaving New Wilmington for a while either. So..." He trailed off. Was he nervous? "Maybe we could meet up sometime. Grab a bite to eat, something casual like that." Heather felt heat flush her cheeks. "Are you being for real?" "Did it sound like I''m joking?" A contagious smile crossed his lips once again. "Here, give me your phone." Her brain almost shut down. She didn''t know what to think. It had been a long time since a man had been so forward with her - hell, and it usually pissed her off when men were so presumptuous. But Chris'' approach seemed to come from a place of confidence, and not boorishness. He just... liked Heather and wanted to take her out... Praying her hands weren''t shaking, she slipped her phone out of her bag, unlocking it and opening her contacts before handing it to him. It took a moment; he seemed almost slow with it, as if he wasn''t used to using a cellphone at all. But finally, he handed it back to her. He''d added himself under just the name Chris, taking the time to add a blue heart emoji next to his name. "Seriously?" Heather snorted. Chris shrugged. "You would''ve added it yourself either way. Talk to you soon?" "Very soon." A bright smile flashed across Chris'' features. "I like the sound of that." Heather finally began her drive home, still amped up from her earlier encounter. A man that attractive? Wanting her? She knew nothing about him, but somehow, felt drawn to him. She couldn''t shake the feeling of his hand in hers. She flipped through the selections on her music pod using the button on her steering wheel, trying to find something to help keep her awake. She stopped short when she heard the opening notes of a song she didn¡¯t think about often, but still gave her a pang of nostalgia. She used to listen to it every day when she was a child, dramatically leaning out her bedroom window, singing along as she imagined herself escaping from her compound. That sentiment, of course, was exasperated by feelings of being unsafe and unseen. Now that she was a grown woman, she didn¡¯t really feel the same way. Despite its flaws, New Wilmington was her home. She still sang along as she had years ago, however, all her timidness melting away thanks to her solitude.. And it would have surprised many people she knew that she could actually keep up with the vocals. Unlike Rylan, she wasn¡¯t completely tone deaf. Singing all the time (at least in private) helped that fact. The imaginary concert she was performing was interrupted by something running out into the road. At first she panicked, believing she was about to hit a dog, but it didn¡¯t take her long to realize it was no beast she was familiar with. The old SUV screeched to a halt, and the creature froze in turn. It was one of those monsters they didn¡¯t have a name for: a creature that seemed to come out of nowhere to wreak havoc. Heather realized why she thought it was a dog at first, as it very much looked like one. It was similar to an emaciated lab, with thick, stringy black hair that grew from the top of its head and all the way down its spine to the base of its tail, dangling over its sides. Its eyes were cloudy and ghostly blue, like those of a drowned corpse, and its mouth hung open to reveal rows of yellow teeth. The worst part was, it didn¡¯t walk like a dog. It had humanoid limbs, with hands and feet that ended in a sickening cross between dog claws and human digits. Heather quickly shifted gears. She hopped out of the car, ready to fight the beast, which didn¡¯t hesitate to leap at her. It knocked her to the ground. She cringed as its rancid breath blew across her face. Pulling out a knife from her belt, she stabbed it in the side, causing it to let out a sickening human-like scream. She kicked it off her and went to reach for her gun when it lunged for her again. She dodged, but it managed to swipe the knife out of her hand. Her next instinct was to wrap her hands around its neck. It retaliated by pushing its weight back against her. For how slender it was, it was pretty strong. It started to shove her onto the hood of her car. She pulled her leg up as she extended a hand towards it, grabbing the spare knife she kept in her boot. That time, she stabbed it in the neck. Its disturbed scream turned into a gurgle. Once it had stumbled far enough back, she pulled out her gun, shooting it in the head. The creature fell to the pavement with a soft thud. She nudged it with the steel toe of her boot. It didn¡¯t twitch, but she still fired a second shot into its heart, just for good measure. ¡°Would¡¯ve been better off hittin¡¯ the damn thing,¡± she grumbled as she retrieved her knife from its neck. It was at that point she became cognizant of the people coming out of their houses to stare, and the residential traffic she had blocked by stopping her car. She didn¡¯t become embarrassed, however, instead taking on her professional demeanor. ¡°You have nothing to worry about,¡± she said. ¡°Please go back inside until the appropriate authorities have dealt with this." The people listened to her, shuffling back into their homes. One little girl was having to be pulled away by her mother, staring in wide-eyed awe at the scene she¡¯d just witnessed. ¡°Mama, when I grow up, I want to be a guard!¡± Heather¡¯s heart swelled, and a smile quickly gave a visual manifestation of the feeling. Several Tactical Team vehicles rolled up, ruining her mood. Tactical work had been her first choice, but the training was much harder and more extensive, mainly because they were the few people who were able to go into the Outskirts without much trouble. She could have powered through it, had the other cadets not been such huge bullies ¨C hiding her clothes while she showered, making her look like a fool in front of her commanding officers, putting used tampons in her pillowcase, and sometimes even physically beating her. Her father had yelled at her when she quit, saying she took the ¡°coward¡¯s route out¡± with that same scowl and disdain he had in many of her memories, but she decided she¡¯d rather have the less acclaimed position of a prison guard than put up with even one more day of abuse. Thankfully for her, the only thing she had to go through in the guard program was a hazing process. Also awful, but at least it was temporary and thus not nearly as soul-crushing. As if the higher powers were just trying to one up each other in making her day worse, the woman who got out of the vehicle was one of her main tormentors. Julia Rodriguez. She looked the same as she had back when they were teenagers: tall, steely eyed, and her hair pulled into a ponytail so tight it was probably giving her a facelift. It had been over a decade, but Heather still couldn¡¯t shake off the grudge. Julia seemed to have one too, as she didn¡¯t look too keen to see Heather either. ¡°You killed it?¡± She asked. Her tone was devoid of emotion. "It ran out in front of my car, so I took matters into my own hands.¡± Heather pulled down the collar of her black shirt, showing the beginning of a scar that cut across her collar bone. ¡°We have a kill-on-sight policy with creatures like this for a reason.¡± Julia gave a curt nod, walking over to examine the body. ¡°You can move along. We¡¯ll deal with this.¡± ¡°Of course, ma¡¯am. I¡¯d hate to get in your way.¡± Julia shot her a glare. Heather was being passive aggressive, but not enough to be called out on without making her look like an ass in the process. They had one last lingering look at each other - Heather¡¯s hazel eyes conveying the homicidal sentiment she still harbored - before finally turning back to what they were doing. Heather carefully drove around the scene, getting annoyed looks from the other citizens who would be stuck there until the road was cleared. Heather woke up to mewling. She lazily opened her eyes only to find her overweight gray and white cat Maru clambering onto the bed, a toy in his mouth. He dropped the colorful mouse onto Heather¡¯s stomach, and she smiled, offering him a scratch. ¡°Is that for me? Good boy! Thank you so much!¡± She said in a high-pitched voice. She looked at her phone, staring in disgust. Her alarm was going to go off in five minutes. Yet another cruel joke from God, and on her birthday no less. Her cat head butted her chin, and Heather kissed his face in reply before letting her head hit the pillow. On the ceiling above her was a mural of a beach at sunset, which her father and uncle had painted for her many years before. She got lost in it for a few minutes, finally being snapped out of it by the buzzing of her alarm. Groaning, she rolled out of bed, reluctant to even stand on her own two feet. She grabbed a change of clothes and went into the bathroom, shutting the cat in with her. Out of force of habit, she ended up staring into the mirror as she got undressed. She ran a finger across the scar on her chest. ¡°There''s somethin'' about scars,¡± Heather said with a wistful sigh. "On men, they''re sexy. But on women? People think they''re ugly as hell. Well, some of ''em, the ones who are intimidated by strong women. But Chris... he doesn''t seem like one of those. He''s confident. He should call me soon. Or at least send a text. Right, Maru?¡± The cat responded by taking a piss in his litterbox. Once she was fully undressed, Heather went to the shower. She reached in and turned the knob all the way to the left, scrolling through apps on her phone as she waited for it to heat up. Once she was sure she wouldn¡¯t turn into an icicle, she went to step in - only to realize it hadn¡¯t even warmed up one degree. She screamed and recoiled as freezing cold water hit her calf, nearly slipping on the mat underneath her feet. She opened the door, sticking her head out. ¡°Rylan! You used up all the hot water again!¡± Heather exclaimed, shouting louder than she had to. ¡°No, it¡¯s straight up not working!¡± Rylan screamed back, agitated by the accusation. ¡°I found out while I was washing the dishes hours ago!¡± Heather groaned, slamming the bathroom door. Maru paused halfway through licking his back leg, startled. ¡°Guess it¡¯s another cold shower for me,¡± Heather sighed. ¡°This cannot be sanitary.¡± She quickly washed her hair and body, having no time to have an existential crisis, or sing, or do much of anything other than basic shower essentials. Once she was finished washing herself, she hopped out like there was a werewolf nipping at her heels, and grabbed a towel from the nearby rack. At the very least, the AC was messed up as well, so while it was like the polar ice caps downstairs, upstairs it wasn¡¯t much cooler than outside. Normally it bothered her, but after her arctic shower she could be thankful. Sitting down on the closed lid of the toilet seat, she began to mope. They could barely afford to live in their parents¡¯ house anymore; how the hell were they gonna afford repair-people for both the AC and the water heater? She thought about it, getting herself into a rotten mood. God, she should have stayed in Tactical training. The years of mental and physical abuse would probably have messed her up, but she¡¯d be making ten times more money than she was as a measly prison guard. At least she had good health insurance? Damn, but the tactical people also had dental¡­ Her cell phone began to ring. She perked up with a gasp, fully anticipating the caller to be the man she''d talked to earlier that day. Heather hopped off her perch, scrambling to grab her phone which was still sitting on the vanity. She answered the call like her life depended on it. "Hi!" "Good evening, Heather. This is Aurora Montgomery." Heather felt her soul leave her body. "Oh- uh, I''m so sorry, ma''am, I was expecting a call from someone else and I just assumed that it was them." Montgomery was unamused. "Your phone does tell you who''s calling, Heather." Heather''s heart sank. Annoying Montgomeru brought up the same feeling she would get whenever her mother chastised her for interrupting her work. I''m a very busy woman, I don''t have time for your childish games. Or for anything, in retrospect. "My apologies once again, ma''am. What do you need?" ¡°Well, it¡¯s very odd, but the security cameras went out earlier this afternoon. We called my husband in, but he couldn¡¯t figure out the problem. He says it may be magic. We¡¯re suspecting an attempted prison break using outside resources. Of course we can¡¯t get the security cameras back online - to be frank, we don¡¯t know when this will even happen - so we¡¯ll have to approach how we do our job from a different angle.¡± ¡°And that would be¡­?¡± Heather asked, nervous. ¡°We¡¯ll be forced to place a guard in each room. This means having to spread our staff even thinner, so I¡¯ll have to assign you to a room as well.¡± Heather stifled a groan. What was it, strike four now? Five? Something or someone hated her, that much was certain. ¡°...I understand, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°Tonight, I would like you to brief the others, then go to your assigned post. I¡¯ll pick up the slack with the paperwork, so don¡¯t worry about that.¡± A sigh of relief managed to slip past Heather¡¯s lips. ¡°Thank you, ma¡¯am.¡± ¡°You¡¯re welcome. I¡¯m glad you understand - I don¡¯t think your peers will be nearly as pleased. I know good and well quite a few of them prefer to watch the inmates shower than actually do their duties. They do know I can view their activity, right?" ¡°Ahem - I¡¯ll remind them. For future reference when the cameras are back online, of course.¡± ¡°Mmm. Hopefully it won''t be long. I¡¯ll see you soon.¡± ¡°You too, ma¡¯am. Have a good evening.¡± Heather slid down against the side of the vanity, putting her head in her hands. Maru came over, as if sensing her distress, and began to lick her leg. He then bit her, upset she didn¡¯t immediately begin to pet him. ¡°OW¡­ kick a woman while she¡¯s down, why don¡¯t ya? Asshole.¡± The smell of chicken greeted Heather¡¯s nose as she made her way downstairs and into the kitchen. Rylan was busy at the stove, humming along to one of her indie songs. ¡°Hey, you ready for brinner, karate champ?¡± Her sister asked. Heather grinned. ¡°Oh, I am so ready for brinner¡­ wait, where¡¯d karate champ come from?¡± ¡°Didn¡¯t you see? You¡¯re all over TownTalk.¡± She handed Heather her phone, which had the compound¡¯s local app open on it. In the post, she could see a cell phone video of her fighting the creature she¡¯d almost literally run into on the way home. ¡°...Great.¡± ¡°Yes, great, and unironically.¡± Rylan took a taste of the mashed potatoes, smacking her lips before adding more garlic to them. ¡°Now everybody knows what a badass you are.¡± ¡°You know the one thing I hate most in this world is unwanted attention, right?¡± ¡°Yes, which is why I¡¯m thriving right now. Happy birthday!¡± Heather ignored the jab. ¡°Did you make that cake I brought?¡± ¡°Hell yeah! And I already had a piece.¡± ¡°Hey! Birthday girl gets the first slice!¡± ¡°Bitch please, you were upstairs snoring, dreaming about the grocery store hunk. You really think I had the patience to wait for you? Let alone until after you had your brinner?¡± ¡°For the record, I dreamed about a beach walk, not Chris.¡± ¡°You need to chill with the beach obsession. You don¡¯t have the guts to leave this compound and you know it.¡± Heather¡¯s jaw clenched. ¡°I don¡¯t stay because I¡¯m fearful. I stay because I have a duty to this compound and its people. You saw the video. I lay my life down to keep citizens like you safe.¡± ¡°Okay, okay, Jesus! Spare me the lecture. Aren¡¯t you gonna ask what''s cooking?¡± ¡°Impossible Chicken.¡± ¡°Wrong! It¡¯s chicken chicken.¡± Heather¡¯s jaw dropped, remembering the huge bird she¡¯d seen earlier at the store. ¡°Rylan! We can¡¯t afford that!¡± ¡°Yes, we can, because I used my own money from my own savings, not the house money! I brought this instead of, oh, I don¡¯t know, a new Friendly Runner package.¡± ¡°You need to chill with those in-app purchases. Looking at your account activity is frankly scary.¡± ¡°Then mind your own damn business and quit looking at my bank statements!¡± The oven timer beeped, and Rylan pulled the chicken out. It looked gorgeous. Heather felt her mouth begin to water. ¡°Breakfast of champions,¡± Rylan remarked, taking off her oven mitts. ¡°You¡¯re goddamned right,¡± Heather replied. ¡°Happy birthday, hermana. And I mean it this time.¡± ¡°...Thanks.¡± Later that night, after informing her distressed subordinates of the change in protocol, she went down a sector C corridor. She¡¯d been assigned to a new prisoner: 6543. That particularly got under her skin, as new prisoners were the most likely to be manipulative or aggressive. At least, in her mind, she had a steely enough demeanor to deal with that type of behavior. She finally reached the cell they were being kept in, pressing her key card to the scanner. The door swung open for her, and she froze. Her blood turned to ice as she saw a face not familiar, but unmistakably recognizable: Chris. He stared back, almost as surprised as she was. ¡°...I was hoping you wouldn¡¯t see me like this,¡± he said. Heather gaped, unable to prevent herself from reacting to the situation. ¡°You¡¯ve gotta be fuckin¡¯ kidding me.¡± I Am Easy to Find Heather''s heart pounded in her chest as she stared the vampire down. He had seemed so kind, so down to earth, so... human. Clearly, however, it had all been an act. Her shock was soon replaced by outrage. How dare he?! How dare this monster try to get near Rylan, to get near her, to manipulate them into playing whatever twisted game he had going on in his head? Heather''s face turned stony, and she could tell Chris picked up on the change in energy, as he actually took a step back from the glass. His own expression turned cold as well, watching her turn on him now that she knew what he was. "I have no words," Heather said, her voice dripping with venom. "I should have known better than to trust a pretty face." She turned around, taking the stance she had been trained too: shoulders squared, feet facing forward, gun cluched closely. She couldn''t bring herself to tear her eyes away from the door. She didn''t dare look back at him. "Oh, so you think I''m pretty?" Now she had no choice but to whip around. She glared, still maintaining the callousness she felt in her raw emotion. "Don''t you play your games with me," she hissed out through clenched teeth. "They won''t work this time. I know your true intentions. You''ll either try to seduce me or break me. Whatever you find easier." "I have ways to make this as hard for you as it is for me, if that''s really where you want to go with this." Heather crossed her arms over her chest. "You''re the one who snuck into my compound. To what, feed? Get gratification from some naive woman? You''re kidding yourself if you thought you''d get away with it." "I came here for food- and not the connective tissue variety... blood, I mean. You''re not wrong to think there are vampires like that, but there are way fewer than the ones who are just trying to survive. And me? I''m just trying to survive." "You can say whatever you want," Heather said. "I know what vampires are like." "Yeah, and I know what your kind is like too. You''re the species that gave us model citizens such as Ted Bundy as well as the folks who invented fascism. You guys love to kill each other as much as we love to kill you." Heather stalked up to the glass, placing a hand against it. She wasn''t afraid of him - wary and spiteful for sure, but not fearful - and she let it show. Chris didn''t falter either, stepping right up to meet her gaze. He was over her initial change in personality. "You know the first thing they showed me when I was in school?" Heather asked. "The video of Howard¡¯s assassination. I knew about it, and I''d seen photos, and written summations... but I''d never seen the video. It was captured on live TV, as you know." "Of course I know. I watched it myself the day it happened." So he was older than Heather had pegged him to be. Then where did the 33 come from? She must have just invited him to pull the number out of his ass. She brushed off the meaningless thought process though; dishonesty was to be expected. "Then you understand why it''s the worst piece of footage ever captured." "I''d argue there''s worse. But yeah, definitely top ten." He rolled his eyes, dropping his sarcasm for a moment. "Don''t preach to me about how awful that day was. I know good and well. Everyone''s lives changed, not just mankind''s." "But we''re the ones who suffered for it." Chris laughed aloud, a dry and sardonic cackle. "Oh, Jesus, you don''t know what suffering is. Come back to me when you''ve been prowling this miserable place for a hundred years. I''ve seen it all. I''ve felt it all. You? Well, all I can gather is that you have a bad case of mommy issues and the temperament of a honey badger." Heather''s face, originally shrouded by darkness, couldn''t hide the surprise she felt. This was the game he was going to play. He wanted to dissect her. Try and pick at her wounds and see what made her flinch. She smiled, a sudden change that made Chris raise an eyebrow. "I hate to say it, but I''m mildly impressed," Heather said. "You almost had me there." "That wasn''t manipulation, that was me being mean to you because you''re acting like a self-righteous jerk-off. You''re just like every other fucking cop that''s ever existed; somebody gave you a gun and it went straight to your head. If you think you''re some kind of hero, you''re not. You''re just a victim of a society fueled by propaganda and capitalism, like literally every other human who was born after the Industrial Revolution. Grow up." He turned around and walked away, sitting down on the bed. Heather stared after him, her eyes wild with anger. She wanted to say something so badly. Every nerve in her body sparked with anticipation. But no. She was too stubborn to let him win. She instead took a deep breath, turning around and walking back to where she was posted. It didn¡¯t help her, though. "Sweetheart, a little piece of unsolicited advice: never let me get the last word, that always goes straight to my head. Just ask anyone who''s ever dated me." Heather repressed the urge to slam her head against the wall. It was going to be a long night. Chris stopped talking eventually, likely bored by everything he said bouncing off the imaginary brick wall that she''d built between them. However, he did continue to find ways to annoy her. He bounced one of his shoes off the wall repeatedly, then went to flushing the toilet over and over again, and then went to messing with the sink, where he did speak once again, going on a rant about the water quality of coastal North Carolina and how it was like drinking water from a gutter. After that, however, he simply laid on his bed and stared at the ceiling. She found her eyes trailing to him. He didn''t look much different then he had the morning she''d met him, save for the ugly navy jumpsuit that replaced his own clothes. She let her eyes study the features of his face - almond shaped eyes, full lips, an aquiline nose, cheekbones that entered the room before he did. It was easy to tell he was handsome even before he became a vampire. And it was unfortunate he was; to think at one point the humanity he fronted as having could have once been genuine. In another life¡­ But she didn''t want to get herself into a full blown existential crisis, thinking about what it was like before the war. Where the world was much smaller, she could¡¯ve driven or flown to any destination she wanted and still found civilization, where the internet ruled culture, and modern technologies that she was familiar with were just a radical idea bouncing around the brain of a genius. She felt a pang of nostalgia for a time she didn''t even live in. Her shift finally ended when another guard came through the door: Emily, a young woman with waves of jet black hair. She was one of those people whose resting face made her look like she was on the verge of tears, and it always made Heather slightly uncomfortable. "Come to put me out of my misery?" Heather asked. "On the next training drill, I''ll make sure to do just that," Emily snarked. Oh, right, Emily hated her. Heather never could pinpoint why. It may have been a general problem with authority, but that was a completely incompatible trait with being a guard. Did Heather do or say something that rubbed her the wrong way and she was just one of those people who held a grudge over even the smallest misdeeds? More likely, but Heather couldn''t even begin to wonder what she''d said or done to Emily that could be taken as such. Or maybe it was internalized misogyny? Yeah, probably that, because it seemed that Emily had a disdain for the female guards when she got along just fine with the male ones. Well, after a few hours trapped in the same room as Chris, maybe she''d develop a hatred for men as well. "Careful with this one. He''s mouthy." "Funny; that''s what my mom used to say to my teachers," Chris piped up, the first time he had spoken in a while. Heather gave her younger coworker a look that read ''see what I mean?'' before leaving the room, not able to stop a small smile from forming on her face at Emily''s expense. Okay, maybe she was being spiteful about it, but if anyone had to suffer it was at least someone as rude as Emily. As she moved through the halls, she caught up with Josh, who looked like he''d had an equally rough night. "That was medieval torture," Josh said. "I think we could report this to the Mayor for abuse of workers or whatever." Heather laughed. "Oh please. Your assignment can''t be worse than mine." "Does yours snore like an overweight old man with emphysema?" "No, and that''s a very specific analogy." "That''s because it comes from real life experience. Grandpa got kicked out of the home and he¡¯s been living with us ever since. His bedroom is right next to mine, it¡¯s awful." "How does one get kicked out of a nursing home?" Heather asked, amused. "Groping the lady nurses, mostly. And making loud noises like ''AWWOOGAA!'' when you do it." "...Oh." "Yeah. Mom says he hasn''t been the same since the battle of Winston-Salem. But enough about my weird grandpa, how was your shift?" "Fucking awful. He''s one of those people that does his best to get under your skin." "Oh, I knew a guy like that in high school. He was very popular." Heather let out a plaintive sigh. "They always are." "With all due respect, since you''re my supervisor and all, your first mistake is seeing it as a person." Heather stopped in front of the women''s locker room, lingering outside so she could continue her conversation. "I have complicated feelings about that. I feel like most of the people devoted to calling the humanoid creatures by dehumanizing pronouns easily fall into the trap of underestimating their intelligence. They''re monsters for sure, but they know our psychology. They''ve either lived among us, or were once one of us. And my guy? He sniffed out my insecurities from a mile away." Josh sighed, scratching the back of his neck. "I guess you have a point. But while I get what they are and still feel like we can''t go around acting like they''re anymore than beasts. They''re like raccoons. It''s in their nature to cause problems on purpose." "God, what bad experiences have you had with raccoons?" The younger man smiled, turning towards the men''s locker room. "I think I''ve dumped enough of my baggage on you already. Have a good day, Heather." "You too; stay out of trouble and away from raccoons!" He chuckled as he entered the locker room. She stood there for a second, pursing her lips. Maybe Josh wasn''t a bad option, considering her only other prospect was a vampire that could have killed her and her sister had they actually let him into their lives. Heather collected her belongings and clocked out, driving straight home as opposed to doing any shopping. It was Rylan''s day off, anyway. She pulled up to their home, a two story house that looked the same as every other one in the neighborhood. Their parents had bought it decades ago, after they first got married. After their mother disappeared, they''d managed to keep the house for themselves, but they still had to pay off the mortgage. Which, as it turned out, their mother shouldered the burden of. She was a scientist - a biomedical researcher, to be specific - and as such one of the higher paid citizens of their community. Heather entered the house to find her sister sitting on the couch, eating cereal and watching political talk shows. Rylan seemed to live for discourse, meanwhile it just made Heather want to piledrive her face through concrete. "Hey sis, how was work?" Rylan asked. Heather thought for a moment, and realized she didn''t have the heart to tell her that their crush was a monster. Instead, she took the easy way out by telling a half truth. "Not great. The new positions are killing me. Standing in the same place all night is even worse than sitting at a desk. At least in my office I actually had something to do. This system is a joke." "Desperate times and all that," Rylan said. She turned up the volume on the TV. Two men were sitting at a news desk, accompanied by a woman anchor. They all were having a heated discussion. Heather tilted her head, curious to at least know what they were talking about. "Bringing back a central form of government is the way to go," the older of the two men said. "It''s what this country was founded on! And don''t cry to me about the rights of compounds to govern themselves, because states were allowed to enact their own laws." "Yeah, which were regulated and manipulated by the federal government and other meddling forces!" The younger man argued. "I mean, look at the last president we had! Four years of policies that actively hurt and divided this country!" "And now we''re more divided than ever!" The older man said, getting heated. "And it''s not the fault of a president, it''s the fault of creatures who thought we were vermin they could just wipe out of existence!" The younger man leaned forward in his seat. "I never even said anything about the war, but since you want to bring it up, let''s! I am not going to excuse what happened, as it permanently changed life as we know it and nearly wiped out the goddamned human race, but I''ll ask you this: if Howard had never become president, would this ever even have happened? Was this not the final straw after years of systemic oppression, corrupt politicians, and policies that benefited the 1% instead of the 99%? Couldn''t that be what led the witches to develop such a superiority complex over us? Think that we were unevolved? Face it Chuck, they look at us the way we look at monkeys throwing their feces at each other. We need to find a way to come back together and do good, without the prehistoric governmental values made by slave owners in the 18th century. That''s what got us into trouble in the first place! That, and the fact we choose to hate what we don''t understand. What we refuse to understand." "Christ, Rylan, could you turn that shit off?" "Shh, the man has a point!" "No amount of whataboutism could change or justify what happened. Now put on something we can both stomach, for God''s sake." She finished the ham and cheese sandwich she had made, her last meal before she planned on passing out for the next eight hours. "You''re not even using the term whataboutism right," Rylan sighed, annoyed. "But fine." She changed the channel to a much more tolerable local talk show, and Heather sat down on the couch, choosing to forget about her problems at least temporarily. Later that night, Heather entered the prison, noticing the lobby was more empty than usual. Most of their resources were being used just trying to keep things under control while Montgomery¡¯s husband Isaiah and the rest of the IT team desperately tried to fix the system. But it was fried by something they didn''t understand and possibly never would, at least not without getting themselves into very dangerous territory. A witch had certainly done it, but for what reason? And where were they? Not that it was hard for witches to evade capture. Humans may have had weapons and armies, but at the end of the day, witches were still much more powerful, even more so than vampires and werewolves. As she was clocking in, she spotted Montgomery. The Warden flagged her down, and Heather made her way over, worried that next she was just gonna tell her more bad news. "Yes, ma''am?" "I wanted to inform you, a handful of us have been invited to the Mayor''s banquet on the 27th. You included." Heather couldn''t prevent her eyes from widening. "But... Why me?" Montgomery maintained a professional manner about her, but deep down Heather could tell she was just as puzzled. "From what I understand, it''s to celebrate the scientific and technological advancements made by the brilliant minds of New Wilmington, your mother being one of them." "Oh. I see." Montgomery gave her a sympathetic look. "I know your mother¡¯s disappearance may still be a sore subject for you, but I believe the Mayor simply wishes to recognize her achievements. You don''t have to RSVP; though I highly suggest you do. It''s not wise to upset the highest rung on the ladder." Heather let out a small sigh. Her boss had a point. "Okay... how much do you want to bet I can still squeeze into my old prom dress?" As expected, the joke did not go over well. "Please buy a new one." Montgomery slipped away, and Heather found herself mumbling under her breath. "With what money?" Heather was already in a bad mood thanks to the conversation with her boss, but it worsened as she made her way closer and closer to Chris''s cell. She could already hear his voice echoing through the metal corridors. "Every day I spend my time, drinkin'' wine, feelin'' fine, waitin'' here to find the sign that I can understand, yes I am..." She braced herself, pressing her access card to the door''s scanner. It opened, revealing Chris lounging on his bed, while the man guarding him stood there, staring off into space as if he were trying to dissociate. "In the days between the hours, ivory towers, bloody flowers, push their heads into the air, I don''t care if I ever know - there I go..." "Have a good shift?" Heather joked, trying to be chummy with the guard. Liam, she was pretty sure his name was.This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. He glared at her. "This isn''t even the most annoying thing it''s done all evening. Fucker''s all yours." He shoulderchecked her as he left, the door automatically shutting behind him. Heather rolled her eyes. It seemed like all the guards she didn¡¯t share a shift with were pricks. Chris stopped his serenade, looking over at Heather. "Another day, another dollar, eh short stuff? How much do they even pay you for this, anyway? Has to be pennies an hour, judging by how war-weary you look." "Have I not made it clear I''m not participating in this?" Heather asked. "Alright, if you don''t want me to talk, then I''ll sing to you. The other guy seemed to really like it." "I don''t need your caterwauling. I have my own music I can listen to." "Caterwauling? You know what, no. Your words can''t hurt me. I know that I have talent." Heather put the wireless earbuds of her music pod into her ears. It was her new strategy to combat Chris''s attempts to make her snap at him. She put in on shuffle, pleased to get a good song on the first try. But it didn''t take long for Chris to pipe up again. "You were born bluer than a butterfly; beautiful and so deprived of oxygen¡­ Colder than your father¡¯s eyes, he never learned to sympathize with anyone. I don¡¯t blame you; but I can¡¯t change you. I don¡¯t hate you, but we can¡¯t save you¡­" A chill went up Heather''s spine at how close to home the lyrics hit for her. She quickly pulled her earbuds out, turning to face him. "What?" Chris asked. "Have you decided you¡¯d rather listen to my caterwauling instead of that garbage, Heather? That¡¯s right, I can hear it. You¡¯re gonna blow your eardrums out." "Don''t you put my name in your mouth," was all Heather could retaliate with. "You know what? That''s fair. Because I know good and well that you''d never have the decency or respect to call me by my name." "If you cared so much about respect, you wouldn''t be here." "Neither would you." Heather caved, walking up to the cell. She ended up nose to nose with him, the only thing keeping them apart several inches of impenetrable glass - though their venomous expressions very well could have melted it. "I am here because it is my duty to protect the people of this compound," Heather said, her voice level but still full of malice. "I''m what stands between you and their lives." Chris''s anger turned into disbelief. "Duty?!" He balked. "God, you''re deluded. In my past life I was a vet tech; do you think I went running around acting like Jesus himself sent me just because I was performing an essential service? P.S., dipshit, you''re wasting time and resources keeping me here. You may as well just kill me." "I gladly would, but we''ve decided to show mercy to your kind. You should be thanking Mayor Townsend for that." Chris let out another one of his humorless laughs. "That White Walker? I don''t fucking think so. The only way you''d find me thanking her is if¡­ I can''t even think of a good rebuttal, that was such a fucking stupid comment. You should get an award. Wait, you''re childless, right? You, ma''am, are actually eligible for a Darwin award. Usually it''s reserved for guys who do things like go on missionary trips to islands untouched by modern civilization and get Magellaned for it, but I think you''d be a good contender for the thrown out onto the front lines of a society that only cares about money as a sacrificial lamb to keep all the other sheep docile category, because Lord knows it''s gonna get you killed one day. It''s the same thing they did to kids who were mad about 9/11. Time is a flat circle." He illustrated his point by drawing a large circle into the air. Heather clenched her jaw. She wanted to yell, to scream, to throw an absolute tantrum. To walk into the cell, pin that vampire against the wall, and hammer it into him how wrong he was. Instead, she shook her head, exasperated. "I''m so done with you. You''re unlike any vampire I''ve ever encountered. You''re not trying to be slimy, or manipulative, or flirtatious, you''re-" "Calling you out. Yeah. It''s not like I have anything better to do in this Godforsaken hellhole. And guess what? You make a very easy target, especially because the girl I met is worlds away from the person you actually seem to be." "Funny, I could say the same thing about you." "Sure. The difference being I haven''t convinced myself you''re a villain." Heather scoffed, putting her hands on her hips. "Don''t try to front like you don''t hate humans." Chris shrugged. "You¡¯ve got me, I always kind of have hated people. Blame it on too much George Carlin too young. But here''s the difference between you and me. Your world is black and white. Vampires are evil, humans are good. You guarding a prison full of sentient beings being held without trial is right, somebody taking desperate measures such as stealing to survive is wrong. Me, on the other hand, I''m not a fucking six year old. I believe in nuance. I see the good, I see the bad. I see the good in you, as much as the bad drowns it out. And it makes me a little sick that you can''t do the same for me, but I really don''t know what I expected. Tonight''s your lucky night, because I''m done trying to reason with you, trying to talk with you, and trying to draw some sense out of you." ¡°Good, because I know you''re just playing a mind game." "...If I ever do get my hands on your firearm, rest assured that my first priority will be blowing my brains out. You''ll be just fine." He walked back over to his bed, flopping down on his side with his back to her. Heather turned her back to him in return, putting her earbuds back in her ears. She had just started playing her music again, when he started to sing. This time, however, it wasn''t to taunt her. "How long have we been here? Am I ever coming down? I need to find some lower thinking if I''m gonna stick around... I''m not going anywhere, who do I think I''m kidding? I''m still standing in the same place where you left me standing. I am easy to find..." Heather took out her earbuds, a moment of clarity washing over her. Did he sing to vent his emotions like she had for so many years? No, no, that was impossible. He was a vampire. Vampires weren''t supposed to feel things, at least not things like that. But he wasn''t just reciting lyrics he knew like he was earlier. There was a palpable feeling of loss and struggle; as if he was hoping to be heard by someone who clearly wasn''t alive anymore. Heather shook it off. Another trick. Another trick. Another trick. But she couldn''t bring herself to stop listening. "That! Fucking! Vampire! Trying! To! Tell! Me! How! I! Think! And! Feel! Who! The! Fuck! Is! He! To! Tell! Me! I''m! Wrong! Like! I''m! Some! Misguided! Naive! Little! Princess! He! Needs! To! Rescue! From! Her! Evil! Mother''s! Tower!" Heather punctuated each word with another wallop to the punching bag. The more she thought about it, the angrier she became. Anytime she thought about the smoothness of his voice, or the lyrics he sang so sorrowfully just as easily as he breathed, she gave yet another blow to the punching bag. He was getting under her skin, and she hated that. She was stronger than that. "Jesus Christ girl, what''d that bag of sand ever do to you?" Heather paused, looking up to find her sister in the doorway. She was drinking a mason jar full of coffee - God, no wonder they ran out so fast. "I''m mad," Heather huffed. "About... work stuff." "Yeah, I could tell by the way you were screaming at the top of your lungs about how you don''t need no shit from no man. Oh, and by the way, you''re sweating like a damn pig." Heather looked in the large, reflective pane of glass that had been sitting in the garage for as long as she could remember. Sure enough, she had loose curls cemented to her forehead, and her dark grey leggings and sports bra were soaked in unflattering places. She sighed, slumping over in a chair she kept next to her exercise equipment. "Not my fault this garage is hotter than Hell. Speaking of, when''s that air conditioning guy supposed to be coming?" "Not until next week. They said our air conditioning is still working so it''s technically not an ¡®emergency¡¯." Heather let out a low snort. "What a joke. Did you cuss ''em out?" "I was tempted, but honestly I didn''t feel like it would help our case at all." Heather chuckled at that. Her cell phone began to ring, and she picked it up, curious as to who was calling her. To her surprise, it turned out to be Josh. She accepted the call, not knowing what to expect. Josh cut right to the chase. "Heather! You''ve gotta get down to Market Street!" In the background, she could hear the jeering of a crowd. "...Why? Is there some kind of awful live performance going on?" "No, they actually caught a witch!" Heather gasped. "A witch?! That''s impossible!" "It is when they''re using magic, but this one hasn''t done anything! They just strung her up in the middle town! Now the Tactical Team''s coming in and the Mayor! Come on Heather, you can''t miss this!" Heather thought about how sweaty and grumpy she was, but disregarded it. Maybe watching the prison take in an actual witch would be some catharsis. "I''ll be right over!" She hung up, turning to Rylan. "Come on sis, we gotta beat the Tactical Turds there!" "Oh Lord, here we go..." Rylan said, but she climbed into the car with Heather anyway. Heather made it to Market Street in record time, parking in one of the few spots she could find before racing towards the center of the action. She and Rylan pushed through the crowd, eventually coming across the spectacle. But it wasn''t what she had been expecting at all. Instead of a witch cackling and cursing them all, she found one that was sobbing hysterically. The witch was strung up by her ankles from the side of a building, wrapped in bonds that looked like something a magician would have tried to escape from as part of their show. "Please!" She pleaded, her cries falling on deaf ears. "I just want my sister back. That''s all I want! That''s all I asked for!" The crowd continued to shout and curse at her, one person even throwing a glass bottle at her, which shattered against the bricks next to her head. Heather felt Rylan grab her arm. "I don''t like this..." her sister said. "It''s crocodile tears," Heather replied. "The moment we let her go, she''ll wreak havoc for sure." "Don''t you think she would have done that already?!" Rylan argued. "I mean, for fuck''s sake, look at her! You can''t tell me those tears are fake." Heather looked the witch in the face. She looked vaguely familiar, but she couldn''t quite place her, especially because the other woman''s features were contorted from her sobbing. If she was faking her anguish, she certainly was talented at it. She continued to yell out to the crowd, her wet blue eyes puffy and pale cheeks flushed pink. "She didn''t do anything wrong!" She sobbed. "She wanted to get new lipstick! She didn''t even steal it, she bought it! I know she was branded a Heretic by our own kind, but she is not evil!" Heather''s heart dropped to her feet. Just a few days before, her coworkers had given her several unopened lipsticks. Rylan moved forward, but Heather stopped her, pulled out of her moment of shock. "What are you doing?!" She gasped. Rylan ripped her arm away from Heather''s grasp. "This isn''t justice, dude. This is cruelty." "It''s not like - Ry, they''re not people, they''re monsters." Rylan''s face contorted with anger. "Are you really trying to justify this?! What if that were me up there, pleading for your safety?!" "We''re not witches!" "Yeah, and I would hope we''re not soulless bastards either, because that''d make us no better than the worst of them!" The Tactical Team began to pull up, and people cheered. Instead of going towards the witch, they started to perform crowd control. Heather continued to hold Rylan back, though she struggled in her grasp. They were both startled by the witch suddenly gasping, her eyes moving up towards the building across the street. "You!" She cried, now furious. "You promised me my sister!" A shot rang out, and everything seemed to move in slow motion until the very second the bullet pierced the witch''s skull. Blood and viscera splattered on the wall behind her. All went quiet for a few moments, until the crowd erupted into cheers, as if it were a football game and their team had just made a winning touchdown. Heather turned around to find Julia on the roof of the building, lowering her rifle. Next to her was Mayor Townsend. "Citizens of New Wilmington," Mayor Townsend said, "we continue to be victorious over the monsters that have plagued this world for over a century now. They may think they have won the war, but they have yet to realize the true power we humans hold!" The crowd cheered even louder for this. Heather turned to Rylan. "Ry, let''s... Rylan?" Her sister had her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed. Heather frowned. "Jesus Christ, it was just a witch!" Rylan turned to her sister, and in her brown eyes was a storm of fury and heartache. "You saw the same fucking thing as I did. You saw what they did. And you''re going to try and tell me it was okay ''cause it was ''just a witch''?" "We need to protect ourselves!" "That wasn''t self defense! That was murder!" "But-" Instead of responding verbally, Rylan hocked a loogie, spitting it onto the ground right by Heather''s feet. She then stormed off, still visibly shaken by the ordeal. They didn''t talk for the rest of the day. Heather found herself standing in the middle of a clearing. Confusion immediately rushed over her - she''d never been to a forest before. The long grass swayed around her legs, being blown by a warm breeze. The air was humid, but it wasn''t insufferably hot. In the dark sky above her, the clouds gave way to show a full moon. It was beautiful, but she couldn''t drink it in - not until she figured out what was going on. She moved her hands, only to find them chained, as well as her ankles. She was clothed in nothing but an ankle-length cotton gown, as stark white as the moon. Bugs nipped the bare skin of her arms, and she moved to swat them, rattling the chains. Surrounding her was a group of people who mostly seemed indifferent to the position she was in. Some flanked her, holding up the ends of the chains that bound her. She felt like an animal about to be led to slaughter. A dark pit formed in her stomach as she realized that could be exactly what was happening. As for why and how, she didn''t know. A woman wearing dark robes approached her. She physically appeared to be around forty, but was clearly a witch, so there was no telling how old she truly was. The powerful ones did enjoy unnaturally extending their life spans. She pulled back the hood of her cloak, revealing pin straight honey blonde hair. "Magnolia Knotley." Heather wanted to say that wasn''t her name, but the words were stuck in her throat. All she could do was stare down the woman in front of her, waves of rage and fear roiling in her chest like the ocean during a storm. "You have been convicted of treason against your Coven and its leaders. For this crime, we have chosen to brand you a Heretic and strip you of your magic. Do you have anything to say for yourself?" Heather had a lot of things she wanted to say, but ended up speaking words that weren''t even her own. "Yeah. Bite me." The crowd around her murmured. The Coven leader''s expression didn''t even twitch. She picked up a goblet off a serving tray held by a child no older than 12. The cup was filled to the brim with a liquid that looked menacingly dark in the moonlight. Oh God, was that blood? Her stomach churned at the thought The leader approached her, grabbing the sides of her face, forcing her mouth open slightly. Heather wanted to struggle, but her mind and body were completely disconnected from each other by that point. She sputtered as the dark liquid was poured into her mouth. To her relief, it obviously wasn¡¯t blood, but whatever the concoction was didn¡¯t taste much better. Once Heather had finished the potion, the Coven leader turned around, starting towards a path in the woods ahead of them. The other witches followed suit, urging Heather along. As they walked, the only sounds were the crunch of feet on foliage, and the droning of summer insects in the night. It was almost peaceful, but a sense of dread shrouded her like a curtain. She was led to a river cutting through the forest, the rush of the water audible. It rained a lot during the summer, making it overflow past its normal banks as a result. She froze, staring at the water in terror. She felt herself get pushed to her knees, and looked up at the people around her. There was a spark of light, and Heather watched as a man''s hand began glowing with a white light. He pressed his palm to a rod he was holding, which ended in an insignia. It started to glow just as hot. Heather''s heart pounded in her ears as she realized what was happening. A woman behind her pulled her bundles of curly hair out of the way, revealing the vulnerable nape of her neck. Heather''s terror grew as the man approached with the hot brand, almost purposefully slow. Her legs burned with the urge to run, but still, nothing happened. She let out a scream as the hot brand pressed against her neck. She didn''t even know what it was a brand of; all she had caught in the dark was a vague serpentine shape. Tears streamed down her cheeks as the rod was removed from her. The man leaned over to whisper in her ear. "Don''t worry, my beautiful flower. The true pain will come from within." She was pulled back up to her feet. Her fear was replaced by nausea, but her stomach still refused to let her have the privilege of emptying her stomach. In fact, she kept her head held high as they hoisted her upright. "For your reckless use of magic," said the Coven leader, "the only adequate punishment was to strip it away. No longer will you feel it flowing through your veins, and no longer will you be in touch with our Goddess Athena. You will have a dark pit in your soul that you will never be able to fill. For your traitorous ways, you shall suffer." Heather looked the coven leader directly in the eye. She smiled. The older witch looked disgusted, but Heather couldn¡¯t focus on that. She felt her body jerking. Away from her captors, away from the chains. They rattled around her wrists and ankles as she raced straight towards the river. The witches watched, shocked, and Heather caught only a glimpse of their faces before the swollen river ripped her away. Her body was shoved to and fro by the turbulent current, bashing against rocks, water flowing into her mouth that she choked on and spit out. Soon enough, she could no longer keep her head above the surface. Her eyes and lungs were starting to burn. Above the surface, moonlight trickled down, tantalizing and cool. "You''ll wake up any second," she assured herself mentally. "Any second now, this horrible dream will be over, and you can go hug your cat and stress eat some ice cream. It''s only a dream, Heather." Well, no. It was a nightmare. One there was no sign of her waking from anytime soon. Finally, the burning in her chest became too much, and despite her better judgement she took in a breath. Pain radiated through her as she took water into her lungs, and she started to thrash even harder, the fear of being drowned alive not nearly as severe as how much it hurt. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no!" Her mind screamed. "I don''t want this! What have I done?!" A gurgled, indistinct noise escaped from her throat, creating bubbles in the water around her. Heather''s eyes snapped open. She didn''t even know when she had blacked out. Or wait, was she awake? Miraculously, she seemed to be. Instead of being surrounded by forest, she was in her stuffy bedroom. And aside from the sweat clinging to her skin, she didn''t feel wet. She sighed in relief, flopping back against the pillows. But her relief was short-lived. On her ceiling, instead of the mural of blue waves and a sunset sky, there was a message scrawled out in desperate, fingerpainted handwriting. IN MY DEATH, YOU WILL KNOW HOW SHE SUFFERED. This time Heather actually woke up, letting out a gasp as she sprung straight up in bed. She quickly looked up, relieved to find the mural. Awoken by her, Maru let out a grumbled little mew, standing up and stretching. He approached her from the end of the bed, climbing into her lap and head butting her chin. She hugged him tightly, repressing the tears that had begun stinging her eyes. Carrying the fat cat with her, she went downstairs, welcoming the chill that hung in the air. To her surprise, when she walked into the kitchen, she found that Rylan was awake as well. She was sitting at the table, playing a game on her phone with an empty bowl of what appeared to have been cookie dough sitting in front of her. She had the same idea as Heather, it seemed. "...Did you have a nightmare too?" Heather asked, only half expecting a reply. Rylan was the queen of giving the cold shoulder. "Yep. We pissed that witch off bad." "Are you sure that''s what it is?" Heather asked. "She didn''t look like she was performing a spell, and even if she wanted to, her hands were literally tied." Rylan paused her game, placing the phone face-down on the table. "I don''t fucking know, man. That whole thing was wrong. I know you don''t agree, but it was. Something or someone is punishing us for doing nothing about it." "You think this is a punishment?" "Well duh. What else could it be? I felt like I was actually dying, even though I knew it was a dream. It''s... a curse. Face it, we don''t know jack shit about witches. They keep the secrets of their magic and how their society functions well hidden. For all we know, this was the plan all along." "To be publicly executed so you could give some random humans bad dreams? Sure, Ry. I believe that." Rylan rested her chin in her hand, leveling a look at Heather. "Oh, yeah? Well enlighten me on what you think happened, Supervisor Hall." Heather bit her lip. "We could argue morality all day. But thinking about it, it''s just... A witch comes in out of nowhere, doesn''t fight off the people capturing her, gets strung up really elaborately - I mean seriously, who has a straightjacket just lying around the house ready to go whenever the opportunity to capture a witch arises? And the fact that Mayor Townsend was there with the Tactical Team, as if she knew what was going to happen... the whole thing is just way too convenient to be spontaneous. But I have no idea what the motivations even would be for killing a witch in such an elaborate, public manner." "She was a good person put in a bad situation, it was obvious from the get-go. Someone made a promise to her, and broke it. They set her up." "I... I don''t want to think about the possibility of one of the higher-ups collaborating with her kind. It''s just too much." "Well, if we''re gonna go by what she said and the weird circumstances, that looks exactly like what happened. And you know what? I''m more concerned about her, because she wasn''t trying to hurt anybody, or steal, or whatever else you act like these prisoners come in for. Yeah, I said it. Half of them weren''t even fucking doing anything wrong, and y''all lock them up anyway. I''m tired of acting like none of them have any humanity. I know what we were taught, the stories we were told... the image of that vampire standing at the podium holding his head by the hair is ingrained into my brain for life. But think about it. The case for none of these humanoid beings having any humanity whatsoever. It''s... stupid. It doesn''t make sense." Heather was shaking, but whether it was out of outrage over what she was hearing or fear of being confronted with those thoughts was unclear. Rylan took her lack of response as an invitation to continue. "I don''t know, something¡¯s wrong with this. Not just with the witch. With all of this. Someone somewhere has a motive for setting up the system to be the way it is, and she proves it. I''ve been doing a lot of research on government - how it used to be, particularly in the US, along with how compounds tend to govern themselves - and it seems like we''ve forgotten how easy it is for a system to become corrupt. You give someone power who shouldn''t have it, they''re gonna abuse it. Every. Single. Time. Maybe not always to the extent of, say, Joseph Stalin, but it''s gonna happen." "Thinking like that could get you in big trouble, Ry." "Exactly why I should be thinking it. The fact they don''t want me to proves I''m onto something." Heather leaned against the counter, not able to look her sister in the eye. It was all too much for her to stomach, but she didn''t have an argument for it aside from what they were taught and her own personal experience working at the prison - two things that Rylan would clearly write off. Instead, she pushed herself back upright, approaching the situation with sympathy as opposed to anger. "I know it''s hard for our generation, but-" The look on her sister''s face stopped her in her tracks, causing her to reevaluate. "...I don''t know what the fuck you want me to say, Rylan. I really don''t." "I want you to start acting like a human being with a soul instead of a government sanctioned android. That''s what I want." "I''m sorry, I just..." Rylan waved her off. "Let''s just agree to disagree for now, because frankly, I don''t want to hear it. And I''m tired of being mad at you over it because it¡¯s pointless. You''re never gonna change." Heather eagerly took the invitation to change the subject and get back into the swing of things with her sister, reaching into the freezer to grab a tub of ice cream. But a hurricane of doubt and anguish still swirled in her mind, threatening to drown out even the most deeply ingrained feelings. Death is Not the End Returning to work after a day off was the worst feeling, especially considering the position Heather found herself in. But she sucked it up, knowing she needed the money more than she needed her sanity. She moved through the corridors, cutting through a sector that contained the laboratory. Experiments had been sanctioned to be performed out of the prison, mainly because the scientists had access to prisoners for resources like blood draws and behavior studies. What they were working on, she wasn''t 100% sure, but it seemed to be a lot busier than usual. Curious, she found herself hovering near the set of doors, watching the activity. She saw faint glimpses of vials, computers, and bustling lab coats. But beyond a set of steel doors was something even stranger. As they opened to allow a scientist to exit, she could have sworn she saw an unconscious person being wheeled around on a steel gurney. She heard someone clear their throat, and looked to find a very unamused looking woman in a starch white coat. "Level 5 clearance only, grunt," the woman said. Heather was caught off guard by the disrespect, and opened her mouth to say something, but the scientist merely waved her off. She joined the stream of people bustling in and out. What was her problem? Nevermind; she couldn''t waste her time lingering around somewhere she clearly wasn''t welcome. She continued towards the room Chris was being held in, and luckily, she didn''t hear anything out of the ordinary. When she opened the door, she was surprised to find the guard she was relieving was Isla. Even more surprising, the girl was right in front of Chris''s cell, her phone screen pointed towards it while she showed photos to him. "And this is Walnuts! He''s the baby." "That is a quality kitten. Look at that fluffy face! Reminds me of a cat I used to have, his name was Se?or Fluffy Pants." "Oh. My. God. That name is sooo shapir!" ¡°...What?¡± Heather cleared her throat, and Isla turned around, mortified. She quickly shoved her phone back into her pocket. Chris leaned against the glass, a smug expression on his face as he watched Heather cycle through several different emotions before she finally settled on exasperation. "Isla. Outside. Now." The young guard looked between Heather and Chris, deciding whether she would rather take her chances with her supervisor or a vampire. Either could kill her on a whim, really. Ultimately, she chose to obey, stepping out into the hall. "This is what I was worried about," Heather began to lecture. "You can''t let these creatures manipulate you!" "But he''s so nice," Isla argued. "He loves animals like me and he-" Heather held up a hand. "There is no such thing as a nice vampire. There are clever vampires, and cunning vampires, and hell, even sexy vampires, but there are absolutely no vampires that are kind in a genuine sense. They mimic our emotions and use them as a tool. You were taught this." Isla picked underneath her fingernails, refusing to look Heather in the eye, but was still brave enough to argue. "They can be, though. They may be apex predators, but personality-wise, some of them are just normal people who got a shit deal. My mom, she-" "How could you be a guard here if you don''t understand why we''re needed?!" The younger woman lifted her head defiantly, the comment pissing her off enough that she gained confidence. "Heather, do you have to hate humans to work at a human prison? No. It just means you want to protect society from bad people. But that''s not even a good comparison, is it? For most of the creatures here, their only crime is trespassing. So they could buy things. BUY. And, like I was trying to explain before, my mother had her life saved by a vampire once when she was lost in the Outskirts. Instead of feeding on her, or killing her, it helped her. So forgive me if I''m not prejudiced enough to fit your standards." "Isla, don''t make me report you. That kind of talk could get you canned." "Maybe I want to be canned, if this is the reaction I get for not being a closed minded bitch." Heather balked. "You know, I could fire you right here on the spot just for disrespect!" "I''ll do you one better," Isla said. "I quit." She took off her belt, dropping it and all the weapons it contained onto the floor before storming off. Heather stared after her in disbelief, having a hard time processing what just happened. Eventually, she got her wits about her enough to go back to her post. She''d sort out the Isla ordeal later. Hell, the others would probably talk her out of it before she even reached the doors. But she couldn''t help but have a sour taste in her mouth, seeing a person she knew so well in a new light. The moment the doors opened, Chris started to applaud, and she had to fight to keep her composure. "Wow, bravo. You ruined a perfectly good kid''s day just because she''s capable of nuance. And she''s like, what, a decade younger than you? How embarrassing. But, I have to say, at least the kids are all right." He watched her, and when she just stared back at him, he tilted his head to the side. The cogs in Heather''s mind turned. He managed to infiltrate the mind of a girl just by asking to see photos of her pets. Unbelievable... No. No, it had to be more than that... Did he act charming? Okay no, that was impossible; to her he had all the charm of a damp sock. ¡°You okay?" Chris spoke up. "You''re having one hell of a face journey right now." Heather stepped up to the glass. "Show it to me." "Jesus, first you hate me, and now you want me to whip it out for you? Make up your mind, Heather, which is it?" "Not your dick, moron. Show me your ''humanity''. Show me what you did that made her think you''re one of the ''good ones'' in a species where good ones don''t even fucking exist." That managed to actually throw Chris for a loop, and for a moment, Heather thought she finally had him. Instead, he just burst into uproarious laughter. Not the kind she was used to from him. This wasn''t at all sardonic, though it certainly was still at her expense. "Oh - Oh I''m crying - Okay. Phew." He wiped his eyes, looking Heather down with an expression that read a mix of amusement and disgust. "I don''t have to justify my existence. Not now, not ever, not to anybody. And certainly not to somebody like you. I''m sitting here, half starved, bored out of my mind, and almost tempted to prove all the ideas you have about vampires right. But I''m not gonna do a goddamned thing. You know why? Because I would rather eat my own fucking hands than be even be remotely like you. So don''t flatter yourself with that superiority complex of yours." He stalked over to his bed, flopping down dramatically. His back remained turned to her for a while. She stood where she was supposed to, waiting for him to come back with something, anything, but he didn''t speak either. They were both too angry. Eventually, however, Heather couldn''t resist the urge to rejoin. She thought about her speech for a minute before returning to the glass cell, staring at the back of Chris''s head. "A lot of things have been happening lately. I feel like I''m standing on shaky ground. So I want to know, once and for all, right here and right now, who you are. You clearly want me to listen to you. It doesn''t mean I''m gonna trust you. Hell, it doesn''t even mean I''m gonna like you. I just want to know. I want to know whether or not I''m fucking crazy." Chris indulged her, even though she¡¯d expected him not to. "Fine. I suppose I will tell you my sad, tragic life story." Just by the tone of his voice, she knew that he was being tongue in cheek, and she grinded her teeth. He sat up on the bed, one leg dangling over the side while the other remained tucked up beneath him. "I was born in the year of our Lord nineteen hundred and eighty-seven, on a cold winter¡¯s day in upstate New York, to an Indian-American fashion designer and a Mohawk engineer. Both were very successful, despite coming from poorer backgrounds. They decided to dub me Christian, ironic considering that my mother was Hindu and my father was a staunch atheist, but I digress. My first memory is-" "You''re not helping your case here." Chris shrugged. "I really don''t know what you want from me, then." "Honesty. Actual honesty." ¡°Hmm, that''s funny, because whenever someone is honest with you and you decide you don''t like what they have to say, you shut down. I overheard what happened with you and Isla. You don''t have me fooled." "Change my mind." "Ew. I know you''re not a white college aged guy, but I''ve met enough of them to know that ''change my mind'' is code for ''say something I''ll ignore and then tell you you''re wrong about, no matter how much experience you have with the subject''." Heather sighed. "I know I have a bias, but I''ll put it to the side for now. Just this once, I''ll hear you out. I know what someone looks and sounds like when they''re being genuine. I want you to show me whether or not you''re a monster." Chris rolled his eyes. "Low bar to set, but okay. Normally you have to be a Level 5 friend or above to unlock my tragic backstory, but in acknowledgement of your awkward attempt to actually grow as a person, I''ll make an exception. Ask me anything. I''ll be as truthful as possible, even if it sucks to talk about. It''ll make it as hard for you as it is for me." Heather looked down at the floor, considering for a moment. "I want to hear about the greatest person you were in love with. Truly in love with. Someone you opened your heart and soul to, maybe even married. Tell me about them. "I..." Chris looked off into the distance, and she could already see the pain in his face. "You said anything-" "Eli." "Hmm?" Heather asked, caught off guard by his tone. Chris cleared his throat, sitting up on the edge of his bed. He managed to look Heather in the face, but his leg bounced up and down with nervous energy as he spoke. "His name was Eliot, but everyone called him Eli. He was... he was the only thing keeping me sane in a world that didn''t make sense. And trust me, the world stopped making sense long before we had ever met. And when we did meet... I was in a bad place. But he accepted me. He kept up with me and my snark - you know how I can be, so you can imagine what those conversations were like. He was sweet though, too. Like if you gave him a compliment, even if you knew him well, he''d get all blushy and embarrassed about it... and he was super smart; he was the only reason I was ever able to finish a crossword puzzle. And we used to have the best conversations about everything and anything under the sun. And... he had so much love in his heart. Even in the times that I didn''t fucking deserve him, where he should have kicked me to the curb, he told me he wanted to see me do better. That''s all. He just wanted to see me be the best version of myself. And that''s all I really could have asked for, especially back then. I loved him so much. And when the world fell apart, we tried to hold on, but..." He closed his eyes, losing the composure he was barely holding onto to begin with. "I will never forgive a single person involved in sparking that apocalypse. Ever. It took away everything from me. It took... a good fucking person. My person. And that''s something I''ll never get over, not as long as I live." His lower lip quivered, and he put his head in his hands, finally letting the dam break. Heather found stray tears rolling down her cheeks, too. She had looked him in the eye and listened, as promised. And she had felt every word - the adoration, the love, the pain, the sorrow. It wasn''t a trick, it wasn''t a joke. It was the truth. She didn''t know what to say. There was no real response to that, anyway. She had expected an "I told you so" from Chris, but it didn''t seem he was going to give her one. Not this time around, anyway. He simply wiped his tears away. It was then she started to notice how much even a week without blood was affecting him physically. There were dark circles under his eyes, stubble was slowly taking over his previously clean-shaven face, and his previously rich skin looked ashen. A shell of the man that she had met while shopping. "Why don''t you play some music?" Chris asked softly. "Something that can make us both forget how shitty our lives are." Heather sniffed loudly, forcing back the stream that threatened to flood out of her nose, and pulled out her music pod. She hit shuffle, not bothering to connect it to her earbuds first. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the song that began to blast was an unapologetically sexual rap. She scrambled, quickly stopping it. Chris flopped back on his bed, his peals of laughter contagious this time - even if they were still technically at her expense. "The fact that''s the first song that played proves that life is just a tragic comedy." "Maybe I''m better off just handpicking a song..." Chris thought for a moment. "Got any Heaven O¡¯Niell on there?" Heather scoffed at the question. "Of course I do, I happen to possess a thing called taste." "Yeah, I''ll be the judge of that." "You know I''m only doing this because I feel bad for you, right? I don''t have to play anything." "Wow, really? If I''d known the bar was set that low, I''d have pulled the dead husband card a lot sooner." Heather wanted to be annoyed by the comment, but the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth said otherwise. The rest of Heather''s shift was quiet - all it took to get Chris to leave her alone was to spark a bit of a rapport with him. Or, maybe it was because his own depression had subdued him. Either way, he proved himself to be an exception to the rule. But that didn''t make him any less dangerous. Despite his humor and his heart, she knew she had to keep him at arm''s length. In the process of trying to see him for who he truly was, she''d made that even more difficult for herself. It was a double edged sword. Josh was an especially welcome distraction that morning, falling into step with her as she made her way towards the women''s locker room to collect her belongings. "Hi, so um, how was your shift Heather?" "Can''t complain, I guess, since I got paid to stand around and do nothing for eight hours." "Yeah, me too. I''m itching for some action." "Be careful what you wish for." She winked at him, and he gave her a dorky grin. Okay, he was cute - not sexy, barely even handsome at that, but cute. Like a puppy. He followed her around like one at the very least. "So..." The two of them paused in front of the locker rooms, Josh wringing his hands nervously. "So...?" Heather replied, already knowing where this was going. "I was wondering when your next day off is." "Tuesday." "Oh, me too! Um... would you like to go out and get dinner with me?" Heather tried to muster up some surprise at the question, but honestly, it was far from unexpected. What she hadn''t predicted was her answer. Any other day, she would have said no. But at that moment, she was just desperate enough. "Sure." Josh looked comically shocked, but quickly shook it off. "Oh! Okay! Um... I can pick you up at six?" "Yeah, you know where I live, don''t you?" Josh nodded. "I- I''ll see you then!" He dashed into the men''s locker room like his ass was on fire, causing Heather to laugh. Heather woke up Tuesday evening feeling a little anxious. It was supposed to be such an easy, fun thing, but she still couldn''t stamp out the nervous energy churning in her stomach. She powered through it, however, hyping herself up in the mirror as she got ready. And she did feel pretty, something that she didn''t get to feel often. She let her long hair hang over her shoulders, putting on gold hoops, a white blouse, and her nicest pair of jean shorts. She agonized for a minute over what shoes to wear, before finally just grabbing a pair of leopard-print wedge heeled sandals. She also bothered to do a full makeup look; normally she didn''t go past foundation and filling in her brows. She tried to put on eyeshadow. That turned out like a joke, so she wiped it off and stuck to eyeliner. And then, she turned to her lipstick collection, freezing when she saw the colors she''d been gifted on top of the pile. Images of the nightmare she''d had flooded her mind. She grabbed all seven tubes, throwing them in the garbage. After a deep shaking breath in and out, she went back to her makeup, deciding to just put on a clear gloss. When she got downstairs, Rylan was laying on the couch, playing games on her phone as usual. Heather grabbed her purse, and the noise got the attention of her sister, who let out a low whistle. "Wooow. That''s a lot of effort for a date with fucking Josh Bolton." Heather rolled her eyes. "Am I not allowed to have a good time every once in a while?" "I mean..." Rylan thought for a moment. "I don''t want to be mean, but-" "That never stops you." A small smirk formed on the younger woman''s face. "Look. Josh is... he looks like a band kid. When he smiles, you expect to see two rows of shiny metal braces. If someone were to see you two doing PDA, you''d end up on a registry for sure." "Who said anything about PDA?!" "Oh please, you can''t expect him not to shoot his shot. Trying to grab your hand in his sweaty little palms, but they''re so wet and slippery that your hand just keeps flopping away, and then at the end of the night he''s gonna chew 20 pieces of gum and try to kiss you. But like, leaning forward with fish lips." She mimicked the action, and Heather watched, her arms crossed over her chest. "You done?" Rylan thought for a moment. "...Yeah, I got nothing else." "Look, even if he''s a little cringey, and granted too young for me, I''m not doing this for romance. I just want to be treated nicely by a guy, and he happens to be the only tangible option right now." "What about Chris?" Heather froze, trying not to let any emotion show on her face. "I said tangible, Ry." "He''ll be back soon..." Rylan sat back against the cushions, unpausing the game she''d been playing. "Hope he''s okay out there. The world''s a shitty, shitty place." "Yeah. I hope he is too."This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. At least he was safe. Hungry and pacing around like a caged tiger, but safe. Heather said good night to Rylan before heading out, exiting her house just in time to see Josh pull up in the driveway. She was worried he was going to be wearing a suit or something embarrassing like that, but he actually looked normal. He''d even combed his swoopy hair back into a more mature style. "Hope you''re hungry," he said as she entered his car. "Always am," Heather reassured him. As expected, she did have a nice time, and it almost felt like they were friends hanging out as opposed to going on a date. They got dinner, went on a bus tour of historic Wilmington (at least, what was left of it), and finally walked along the riverwalk, eating ice cream they had gotten from a parlor. Just in front of them, blocking what was historically a view of the Cape Fear river, were the walls that separated their compound from the rest of the world. Walls she had resigned herself to never leaving long ago. "So, I heard you''re going to that dumb banquet next week," Josh said. "Yeah," Heather replied, subtly licking away a droplet of cookies and cream running down her thumb. "It''s because the Mayor wants to honor my mother, whatever that means." "Oh..." Josh said. "Do you... know what happened to her? Sorry if that''s a heavy question." Heather sighed. She wasn''t one to open up to just anybody, but Josh felt safe. Besides, he trusted her with his secrets, so it''d be awkward for her not to do the same. "Well, she was working out of the prison a few years ago. I know she was doing research on the vampires, and how vampirism works as a disease, but that''s about it. Then one night, she didn''t come home. They searched the compound for her, but couldn''t find her. One of the prisoners was missing too, so... I''d like to think she was just kidnapped, and now she''s out there in the Outskirts, trying to find her way home. At least, that''s what I hope. Call it wishful thinking." "It''s totally fine to think like that," Josh replied, sympathetic. "Nobody wants to assume someone they love is dead when there''s no proof of what even happened to them. I mean, just look at my Uncle Georgie. He jumped off the bridge into the river and disappeared. People assumed he drowned or was grabbed by a mermaid or some other monster in the water. But we found out someone found his clothes on the other side of the bank, so we think he swam away." "And left his clothes...?" "Well, yeah. Nobody wants to walk around in wet clothes." Heather chuckled. "Hopefully he''s okay, wherever he is." "Mmmhmm. My cousin Madalyn - not his daughter, my Uncle Jay''s daughter - says he got abducted by aliens. Granted, Madalyn is crazier than a sack of cats. She thinks that our government is being controlled by a secret society and that hippopotamuses are the future of livestock because that''s what they eat in Africa, apparently. Which strikes me as mildly racist but I don''t know, I''ve never even been there." "...I''m starting to think you''re making some of these people up just to fuck with me.¡± Josh laughed aloud at that. "God, I wish I was. So, what about your dad? I never hear about him." Heather grimaced, thinking about her perpetually red-in-the-face father. "He... had an aneurysm when I was 19. Ry and I always joke he got so mad his head exploded." "Oh. So I... take it you didn''t have the best relationship..." Heather shrugged. "I don''t hate him, but I don''t love him either. Not everything he did was bad, he definitely did nice stuff for me and Ry, but overall he was just really hard to live with. I think mom would have divorced him, but she spent so much time at work I guess she didn''t get the full effect. Or maybe that''s why she was always in the lab." "Yeesh. That''s hard. So, what happened after he died?" "Nothing. Things just kind of¡­ felt better almost. There was this overwhelming sense of relief since none of us would have to walk on eggshells in my own home anymore. That I wouldn''t have to feel like a failure whenever I made a minor slip-up. Rylan and I would call him Tyrannosaurus rex for a reason - we read in one of her dinosaur books its name means Tyrant King, so it stuck. God, sorry, this is not the best thing to talk about right now." "It''s fine! Vent all you want. I''m listening." Heather looked up at him, a genuine smile highlighting her face. This was exactly what she wanted. Someone who was sweet, understanding, who''d listen to her without judgement. Too bad it was fucking Josh Bolton. The two of them paused, sitting on a bench. They could see some of the sky, but most of their view was blocked by steel and stone. It wrapped around their compound tightly, though the riverwalk still stayed, as if the people who built the compound didn''t have the heart to tear it down. "I wish we had a better view of the sunset," Josh sighed. Heather finished off her ice cream, looking up at the orange sky. "Maybe if we got up on top of a really tall building." The two of them chuckled, but their contentment was interrupted by the distant sounds of screams. Heather jumped up, spinning around to face the streets behind them. She couldn''t see much from where they were, but peeking up over the old shops and restaurants, she could see flickering light as orange as the sunset sky. "Fire!" She yelled. "What could have possibly started it?!" Josh said. "...Oh God, you don''t think it''s another witch?" "Only one way to find out." Heather ran towards the danger, Josh hesitating for a few seconds before he followed. It didn''t take long for them to reach the source of the commotion, the heat becoming intense even before the flames were visible. On either side of the street, the buildings burned, even the ones which weren''t feasibly flammable. Smoke billowed up above, dark gray and suffocating even in the open air. People tried to escape, screaming, but it seemed almost like the fire was chasing them. A man burst out of one of the shops, flames dancing throughout his body. He screamed in agony, throwing himself to the ground trying to put them out, but it wasn''t long until he lay motionless. In the center of the fray was a creature unlike Heather had ever seen. It seemed to be made out of pure flame, too bright to stare at for long, but even through squinted eyelids she could make out what almost appeared to be the face of a woman. Its eyes were wide and glowed with white hot flame, and its mouth was open in what appeared to be a scream, but no sound came out. Its whole ¡®face¡¯ appeared contorted with fury. It launched an arc of fire at her and Josh, and they dove out of the way, only to nearly stumble into more fire. "Heather, we need to get out of here!" Josh cried, craning his neck to look at the people who were fleeing from the chaos. Heather looked around, her heart pounding out of her chest. There had to be some way to get rid of it, anything. There were no fire hydrants nearby, and even if there were, it wasn¡¯t as if she''d be able to open one up on her own. They couldn''t wait for the fire department to come to the rescue either, though. Even if they did get there quickly, it''d be useless if the creature just kept spitting out more and more fire for them to fight. Suddenly, her brain hatched an idea. She turned to Josh. "You help the civilians escape! I''ll get rid of the monster!" Before Josh could react, she ran into a building that hadn''t been touched by flames yet, already abandoned by the people who''d been inside it. It was a restaurant; surely they had a fire extinguisher somewhere nearby. Sure enough, upon entering the kitchen, she found one mounted on the wall, sealed in a glass case. She punched it open, not bothering to try to figure out the proper way to remove it, and pulled it out. She didn''t know if it was going to work, but the monster itself appeared to be composed of fire, so it was worth a shot. She ran back outside, nearly suffocated by the heat of the approaching flames. The creature was slowly but surely making its way down the street, its expression unchanging. Heather stepped closer, activating the fire extinguisher. "Eat CO2, bitch!" She aimed the nozzle straight for the creature as she fired, shrouding it in a cloud of white foam. She heard a confused screech, and some of the flames started to recede. She didn''t know if it was just startled or if her plan was truly working, but not taking any chances, she continued to spray, slowly moving in its direction. She didn''t stop until the nozzle sputtered out the last puffs of compressed gas. She was standing right over where the creature had been, a pile of cold foam the only thing remaining. A thin blue glow pulsed from underneath it. A tiny sprite-like being that possessed the same agonized face popped out, looking much less intimidating now that it wasn''t shooting deadly flames. It hissed at Heather before running off, disappearing into thin air. She raised an eyebrow, more confused than frightened. The fire brigade finally arrived, several firefighters jumping out of their trucks to assess the situation and set up equipment. The fire didn''t seem so bad now the creature causing it was gone, but it had still left a path of devastation almost all the way up the street. A firefighter walked up to her, and she was about to say something, but he simply tsked. "C''mon, lady, a little thing like that won''t put out a fire as out of control as this! Didn''t your school teach you about fire safety? Now come on, the Tactical Team will escort you to-" Heather, repressing the urge to smack him over the head with the empty fire extinguisher, simply threw it to the ground and stomped off. It was unclear what had truly set her off - the way he was talking to her like her brain was made of mashed potatoes, or the fact that he had brought up the Tactical Team. Emerging from the center of the chaos, she found Josh standing with a group of people. Some of them looked shaken up, but otherwise, they were the ones who''d made it out scot free. "Heather! You''re okay!" Josh cried. He hugged her, and she was startled by it, but still gave him a brief hug back. "Did you kill it?" He asked. "No, it''s still alive, just not as destructive. But who''s to say whether or not it will be back? We need to put everything on lockdown and-" "That''s not exactly up for you to decide." The familiar voice sent a shiver up Heather''s spine. She turned to face Julia, who had pulled up with the rest of the Tactical Team. She looked entirely unimpressed, as if she weren''t surrounded by burning buildings and traumatized civilians. "This is an unprecedented situation," she continued. "You don''t have to concern yourself with it unless we send people to your prison. I wouldn''t forget your place, Hall. Talking to these civilians like you have the authority is... unprofessional." Heather balled up her hand into a fist. Fifteen years ago, she would have punched Julia in the face, but now as a mature adult woman she realized lashing out wouldn''t exactly help her case. Instead, she took a deep breath, grounding herself. "I was just thinking out loud; more in the hypothetical sense. I understand I''m just a guard and have no place in devising plans to help the people of New Wilmington, even if my job is to protect them. But that''s not important. What we can do now is discuss what exactly everyone saw... in private." Julia''s face remained stony. She started walking off, and Heather was confused for a moment, until the other woman looked over her shoulder with an expression that read ¡®follow me, idiot.¡¯ Heather obliged. Julia led her to an isolated alleyway. "Well?" Julia asked. Heather explained the whole situation - the creature, what it was doing, how she had killed it (though she left out the one liner because in retrospect it was pretty ridiculous) - and studied Julia to see if there was any change. "It''s unfortunate we don''t know much about these creatures, even after all these years," Julia remarked. "Though I guess there''s not much time for studying when you''re having to fight to survive." "I think it had something to do with witches or magic," Heather suggested. She thought back for a moment on the witch that had been strung up in the middle of town, her face almost reminiscent of the one the creature possessed. "...It might have something to do with the one we executed recently." Julia''s face twitched for a brief second, so fast Heather thought she had imagined it. The soldier managed to maintain a stoic appearance. "That''ll be for my team and I to decide." "Julia, did you have any nightmares after you killed the witch?" It wasn''t meant to be a malicious or rude question; she was genuinely curious. If she''d had such a horrible nightmare after simply witnessing the event, then surely Julia was having full blown night terrors. But Julia did not seem to take it that way. She picked up Heather by the collar of her shirt, slamming her against the wall. Heather gasped, her hands instinctively moving to clasp Julia''s wrists. Any hint of resolve was out the window, now replaced by fury which rivaled that of the monster that had just tried to burn down the compound. "I try to be cordial with you," Julia growled, "I really fucking do. But you''ve been testing my patience lately. You keep your nose where it belongs and stay the fuck out of my way, or so help me God it''s gonna be a bloodbath. Next time you piss me off, I''m not letting you walk away with just a few bruises to show for it." She dropped Heather to the ground, who sat still for a moment, almost too shocked to be angry. Her former classmate stalked away, returning to the stone faced demeanor she showed to everyone. Now Heather knew that was a lie. She was still as angry and messed up as she had been when they were young. After everything was wrapped up, Heather got driven home by Josh. For the first time all night, they remained silent. Heather''s leg bounced nervously, her thoughts haunted by the witch.. What a joke to think she could actually catch a break for once. Her whole life was a tornado, and she was caught in the middle of the chaos, being pummeled by flying debris. Josh pulled into the driveway, and they sat there a moment, still not speaking. Josh drummed his fingers against the steering wheel nervously, the gears in his mind visibly turning. "So..." He said. "So...?" Heather replied. "I uh, I had a nice time tonight. You know, until the whole..." Heather smiled a little. "Yeah, me too actually." "And it was pretty badass, the way you murdered it and everything. I was scared, I''ll admit it, but you didn''t even hesitate. You''re like... Wonder Woman. Or Supergirl. Or Batgirl... we''ll go with Batgirl, she''s my favorite." Heather chuckled. "Thanks." Just as Rylan had predicted hours earlier, he leaned forward with his lips puckered and eyes shut tight, attempting to initiate a kiss. Heather''s fight or flight response kicked in. For a moment, she was tempted to open the car door and bolt, but she didn''t want to be that mean. If she wanted to reject him, it should be in words, not actions. But she also didn''t feel like having a whole conversation about it, not after what had happened. So instead, she compromised, leaning forward but turning her head so his lips touched her cheek. He seemed more than happy with this, and pulled away smiling, his blush visible even in the low light. "I- I''ll uh, see you at work tomorrow." "It''s a date," Heather said. She climbed out of the car, shutting the door behind her. She didn''t let out the sigh of relief she was holding until the taillights of his old green Chevy disappeared out of view. When she entered the house, she expected Rylan to be all over her, asking her if she was okay and what had happened. But those expectations were a bit too high. Rylan was exactly where Heather had left her, splayed out in an unflattering position on the couch, out cold with her mouth hanging open and her glasses pushed up on top of her head. Heather kicked the side of the couch, and her sister awoke with a jolt, her glasses falling and bouncing off the bridge of her nose. "Who the fuck-?! Oh, hey hermana." "Ry, I called you like five times!" "What happened? Oh my God, he didn¡¯t try to cop a feel, did he?!" "No! ...Thank God. But things did go down. Read your news app, for God''s sake." "Oh, so you did get put on a registry." "Rylan!" "Okay, okay, Jesus." She picked up her phone, her eyes gradually widening as she read about what had happened downtown. "It''s gone - for now," Heather said, "I guess I managed to ''put it out''. But Lord knows when it''s coming back, and I have no faith in the Tactical Team''s response." "Oh, let me guess, they marched around with a bunch of bravado and yelled at people to stand back." "Pretty much. And when I spoke up about what I thought it was, Certified Crazy Bitch Julia Rodriguez did this." She pointed to her right shoulder, where her skin already formed a large purple bruise from where Julia¡¯s knuckles had dug into her flesh. Rylan gasped, jumping up from the couch. "Oh, that fucking whore! I know some big guys, I can get her jumped for that." "Are you kidding me...?! She''d murder them." Rylan let herself laugh a little at the joke, but quickly went back to being serious. "Dude, what''s her problem?" "I have no idea. I haven''t seen her that mad in years. I mean, I knew the old Julia had to be in there somewhere, but Jesus. I think that witch must be getting to her head. She''s the one who shot her, after all." Rylan bowed her head. "Whatever it is, she deserves it." "Ugh, I''m gonna go lay down," Heather groaned. "Um, not until you tell me about the non life-threatening parts of your date you''re not! I''ll break out the chips." Heather knew she wasn''t going to escape that conversation, so she relented, sitting down at the kitchen table with her sister. Heather didn''t sleep well. She tossed and turned, her mind haunted with images of the Pyromancer and the witch. They had to be connected somehow, but in what way? She probably wouldn''t be able to find out through any written source. They knew more about the deepest, darkest depths of the ocean than they did about magic. But that didn''t mean there was nobody who did. The ones privy to the information just weren''t human. Granted, it was a gamble assuming Chris knew much more about it than she did. She was only going off it by two factors: For one, he was a vampire, and secondly, if he was being truthful about the year he was born, that would make him over 130 years old. Surely he had to have picked up some knowledge in that amount of time. He certainly acted like he knew everything, anyway. She entered the cell, finding Chris on the bed. He was curled up, and almost looked like he was asleep, though she knew he was about as nocturnal as she was. She dismissed the guard that was stationed before walking up to the glass, getting as close as she dared. "Have you heard about what happened last night?" "You realize I¡¯m locked in this cell 24/7, right?" Chris asked, his voice resonating in a lazy baritone. "I''m not exactly in the loop." "I''ll explain in a minute. I just need to ask you... what do you know about witches?" Chris seemed to immediately snap out of whatever stupor he was in, and rolled partially onto his back, his head lolling towards her. "I''m sorry, what about them, exactly?" "I think these two things are connected, but I don''t know enough about magic to be sure. Can you identify this?" She went to pull up a picture of the creature on her phone - how anyone had time to take photos of the fire while they were running for their lives, she had no idea - and Chris approached her, one eyebrow raised. "What do I look like, Google? You think you can just ask me anything and I''ll know what it is because I''m a fucking vampire?" Heather looked up at him. "Yes. Also because you''re older than graveyard dirt and have been living in the Outskirts for decades." Chris snorted. "Fair enough." She finally found a decent photo, zooming in on the creature in it before pressing her screen to the glass. Chris leaned forward, his dark eyes squinting as he examined the image. Seeing him up close like that really hammered in how starved he was, but she quickly repressed the feelings of guilt that cropped up over it. "Uh... I think I might know, but it''s very rare. Extremely rare. I''ve never seen one in person, just read about them." "Well, what is it then?" Chris scratched the stubble on his chin, looking up towards the ceiling. "You wouldn''t happen to have pissed off any witches lately, have you...?" He leveled an accusatory look at her. Heather couldn''t meet his gaze, looking towards the far wall. "That''s what I figured. We must be cursed." "Oh Lord, what did you do?" Heather dished out the details of the witch''s death, and how the mysterious monster had appeared and ravaged the city. Chris drank in the information, nodding slowly, like he was a student listening to a particularly interesting lecture. "Ah, okay, I see what the problem is. You''ve got a vengeful spirit on your hands. Or, well, even worse than a vengeful spirit - it''s the vengeful spirit of a witch. So you''re right, that must be the one you publically murdered." "Oh, God. Are you serious?" "As a heart attack. They¡¯re nicknamed Bonnets - after the first recorded person this happened to. Makes them sound benign but they¡¯re really not; they¡¯re beings of pure energy, fueled by magic and spite. They were way more common back when public witch trials were mainstream among backwards fucks like the Puritans. They¡¯re not like ghosts who simply leave impressions of strong emotions, though, they actively seek revenge against those who wronged them. So yeah, basically your whole compound is cursed now. Congratulations." Heather put her head in her hands. "Fantastic. What kind of curse is it?" "How should I know? She doesn''t have a rational mind anymore." Heather thought for a moment, contemplating whether or not she should dish out the information. Then again, she wasn''t alone in the dream she''d had, and it didn''t reveal much about her personally. "...Would it be normal for a curse to involve nightmares?" Chris, who had leaned against the glass, suddenly straightened up. "I mean, it''s not unheard of for a witch who died tragically to do something like that, even post-mortem. Magic outlives the flesh vessel, even in witches who don''t become Bonnets. And it¡¯s linked heavily to emotion; and strong emotion leads to strong magic, which leaves an impact. The nightmares can really tell you what the source of their pain is; it''s almost like a key for laying them to rest. Not part of the curse so much as a self defense mechanism. So her spirit doesn''t simply want revenge, she wants to rest!" "Then maybe you can help me out for once." "Only if you tell me what you saw." "I..." Heather couldn''t bring herself to say much. She cast her gaze towards the floor, finally summoning the courage to relive what she''d seen. "I was in some kind of ceremony within a Coven of witches. They... fed me some kind of potion, branded my neck, and then I jumped into the river. That''s the thick and thin of it." Chris''s expression changed from one of placid curiosity to general horror. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He moved away from the glass, raking a hand through his thick black hair as he began to pace. "But Heretic witches can''t do magic, where does the Heretic situation come in?!" "What even is a Heretic, exactly?" Heather asked. Chris paused, still visibly unnerved. "It''s... a witch who committed treason against their Coven. They get their magic stripped away. Mostly in Covens that worship Greco-Roman Gods and Goddesses, and mostly way back when nobody washed their ass, though it''s still practiced by some Covens to this day. Mainly the Greek ones." "What would you even have to do?" "Something bad. At least, bad in their eyes, to the point where excommunication isn''t enough. They feel they''re worthy to take away your magic. But riddle me this, who¡¯s the Heretic here?" Heather remembered what the witch was yelling before she died. "She... Her sister was the Heretic! She was crying for her, acting like someone had promised her something. I think her sister might actually be here, in this prison." Chris sighed, crossing his arms. "Great. Cool. Fantastic." He once again paced around, this time mumbling to himself. "So...?" Heather asked. "Isn''t it obvious?" Chris said. "Let the vampire go, and the witch will find peace and leave." Heather frowned. "There''s no way in hell we would ever do that." "Then perish," Chris said. He stalked back over to his bed, flopping down just as dramatically as always. Heather looked towards the door, moving into position. "...That''s it?" Chris asked. "You''re just not going to do anything?" "What can I do?" Heather asked. "It''s my job to protect these people, but... I can''t protect them from two conflicting things at once. And if I tell anyone what you told me, they wouldn''t take me seriously anyway. I''m just a grunt." "A cog in a machine," Chris agreed. "But you could just as easily be a monkey wrench." "I guess I could try to talk to the Mayor, but I don''t know how she''ll react. She and Julia - the soldier who shot the witch - were right there, and Mayor Townsend almost used it as a PR campaign." "That''s suspicious," Chris said. "I thought so too, but..." "You don''t want to. I get it, but consider for a moment. You have a witch whose sister is imprisoned here, and a Mayor who happened to be in the right place at the right time to have her publicly executed. Something smells." "Reeks," Heather growled. "God, I don''t know how I can face her next week." "What do you mean? Does she have you guys come lick her boots once a month in some kind of authority suck-off ceremony?" "You''re not funny." "I''m very funny. And you didn''t answer my question." Heather sighed heavily. "It''s a Banquet to honor the researchers of our compound. Rylan and I got invited because our mother was a scientist. Or maybe it''s just an elaborate attempt to embarrass us because there''s no way we could afford to blend in with the upper crust for a night." Chris licked his lips, considering for a second. "...If you''re desperate enough, you could take a couple hundred from my satchel." Heather whipped around. "Are you serious?!" "What? You act like stealing shit from prisoners isn''t normal. But this isn''t even stealing, per se, this is just me throwing you some pity cash." Heather narrowed her eyes. "I don''t need your pity cash. Besides, how would I even explain it?" "Uh, that you stole it from a prisoner?" "I never agreed with that in the first place." Chris shook his head. "You have weird morals, sweetheart. Well, offer''s still on the table if you want it. Show up and stunt. Let that miserable sack of bones know you''re more than just a meatheaded prison guard." "And maybe she''ll take it more seriously if I confront her..." Heather said, knowing good and well it would never work. If Mayor Townsend was truly involved, that meant she knew good and well that messing with that witch could potentially put all the people she was in charge of in danger. "Just keep your eyes peeled," Chris said. "Stay woke, as they used to say. And remember, history favors a whistleblower, but governments rarely do." Heather gave a small nod before turning back to the door. She knew how to deal with monsters. But what was she supposed to do when the humans supposed to be keeping her safe were just as bad?