It will be somehow. Because it is always somehow.
"If you push a few chairs together, you can sleep on them," Hajnal said, placing a bundle of blankets into my hands.
"Thank you," I replied earnestly, "I'm really grateful that we can stay."
My boss snorted, loud and dismissive. "Don't thank me! I can't survive on gratitude alone! Honestly, you're more trouble than you're worth! I had to close early today because of you. If we go bankrupt, you'll just sit there, wide-eyed, while I lose everything!"
I listened in silence as Hajnal bustled away, still grumbling under her breath while handing blankets to Rolo, Alex, and Des.
As she turned to leave, I spoke up. "Tell me, Hajnal, what do you see?"
In this world, seers come in many forms. Some glimpse the future, others the past. Hajnal, though, had a different burden.
She clenched her gloved hand into a fist, staring at it as though it were an affliction she wished to rid herself of.
"You see..." I began, the words catching in my throat. It was one thing to understand it in my mind, another to give voice to it. In the end, I didn't need to. Hajnal finished the thought for me.
"I see the death of those I touch," she said quietly.
The weight of her words lingered in the air, a heavy, inevitable truth. Soon after, everyone set up their makeshift beds and settled in for what little remained of the night. Alex was the first to fall asleep, his heavy snores filling the quiet room. But sleep eluded me.
Every time I closed my eyes, Jo's image haunted me. In one vision, vampires surrounded her, tearing into her with ravenous hunger. In another, I saw the ruler commanding Coffee's torture, driving the vampire girl to madness until she took Jo's life herself. Her blood, her screams, her desperate cries for help reverberated in my mind.
Finally, I couldn't endure it any longer. With a stiff back and a restless heart, I sat up, grabbed my cigarettes, and crept over to the counter. I pulled a beer from the fridge, turned the key in the lock, and stepped out into the crisp night air, seeking solace in the quiet and the dark.
I barely managed a sip of my beer before I was slammed against the wall. The can slipped from my grasp, clattering softly on the concrete before disgorging its contents with a gurgle. Neither of us moved. His fingers tightened around my neck, pressing me into the cold surface.
We waited. I waited for something to happen. For what, I couldn't decide, but perhaps the right moment to kill. I looked up into the red-hot irises. A vampire. Only this vampire had an eerily familiar scent.
"If I'm not mistaken..." I rasped, my voice raw from the chokehold, "you're Coffee's father."
His grip didn't slacken. Instead, it seemed he was trying to fuse me with the wall itself. His fury was palpable, though his fangs remained hidden, suggesting he wasn't quite ready to kill me. Not yet.
"Where's my daughter, mongrel?" His voice thundered, low and dangerous.
Realizing that throttling me wasn't conducive to getting answers, he released my neck with a disgusted wipe of his hands on his coat. He stood tall, a looming figure of menace, his heavyset frame casting a shadow. His forehead was furrowed, carved by the weight of his burdens, his sharp eyes and tight lips only adding to the image of a man hardened by centuries of existence. He exuded the lethal aura of an ancient vampire, one who had seen and inflicted much.
"Answer me!" he barked, the command slicing through the cold night.
I massaged my throat, ensuring everything was still intact before speaking. "Johanna was kidnapped. Your daughter went after her," I explained, concise but pointed. "She's alive, likely held by the Fifth."
His face darkened at the mention. The thought of his daughter willingly placing herself in the grasp of his most feared enemy seemed to hit him hard. A silence, thick with desperate contemplation, enveloped us.
I lit a cigarette, offering him one. His cutting glare was all the response I needed. Shrugging, I took a drag, holding the smoke in my lungs before exhaling slowly. His eyes remained on me, seething with contempt as though I were a pest he longed to crush.
"I'm planning a war," I said, my tone deceptively light.
"A war?" he echoed, a blend of incredulity and disdain in his voice.
"I'm not foolish enough to face an army of vampires alone," I continued, unfazed. "I'd appreciate it if you could lend me some soldiers. After all, I'm trying to save your daughter."
In a swift, angry motion, he snatched the cigarette from my hand, crushing it underfoot.
"You could've just told me if the smoke bothered you," I muttered. He ignored me, grabbing my clothes and hoisting me until my toes barely scraped the ground.
"You dare ask for my help after allowing my daughter to be taken?" he growled, his fury simmering just beneath the surface.
I grabbed his wrist, steadying myself. "Alright, Mr. Blutkaiser, let's clarify a couple of things. First: we both want the same outcome—your daughter's freedom. Second: I get your frustration, but if you don't want more trouble for yourself—and I'm guessing you don't—don't take it out on me."
He released me reluctantly, the tension still crackling in the air. His eyes spoke of restraint barely held.
"I don't care about your little scheme, mixed-blood," he snarled. "There's no time. I'll handle it. That usurper will regret crossing Crimson himself."
With that, he vanished into the night, leaving only the echo of his threat behind. I lit another cigarette, drawing in the smoke and exhaling slowly. Leaning against the wall, I stared up at the sky, lost in thought.
The waxing moon loomed above, casting its silvery sneer, mocking me. In three days, the full moon would rise—a perfect time to strike. The lunar pull would drive the monsters to madness, and with madness comes mistakes.
I decided it was time to pay Ruben a visit.
The walk to the gate took two hours, the chill of the night air a constant companion. I stepped over the gate with ease, stopping before the thick steel door that even a vampire's strength couldn't budge.
The camera swiveled to me, recognizing my presence. Without a word, the lock clicked, and the door creaked open. I ascended the stairs and entered Ruben's office, the room bathed in the dim glow of three massive monitors flashing with data.
Ruben sat in his usual spot, fingers flying over the keyboard, the screens reflecting off his dark eyes. He knew I was coming; he always knew.
"Are you sure?" he asked softly, devoid of concern, merely seeking confirmation.
I nodded, and he returned the gesture. Silence stretched between us, heavy and foreboding.
"You know I don't like you..." he started, his lips curling into a grimace to emphasize his point. "I wouldn't lose sleep if you got yourself killed. But since my fate is tied to the success of your plan, I'm forced to improve your slim chances of taking down the Fifth."
"Trust me, Ruben, the feeling is mutual," I replied, keeping my revulsion in check.
I hated rats. Ruben was no exception. But in war, alliances are built on necessity, not preference.
"In war, we do what we must," he agreed, tapping a key that turned the screen blue. White letters scrolled rapidly across the display, too fast for me to decipher.
"My network is limited beyond the city," he admitted, eyes flitting over the flashing text until it vanished, leaving a stark blue screen.
"What I do know is that they're based at the Redchild Villa."
He glanced up at me. "You've met a very dangerous enemy."
"Is the Fifth's army truly that powerful?" I inquired.
"Undoubtedly," Ruben confirmed. "But it's the dark mages that worry me."
"Mages?" I echoed, taken aback.
"Liou and Pitou."
Their names again. A grim pattern emerging.
"Are they allied with him?" My voice was tight with frustration. The thought of facing two dark mages capable of conjuring armies of homunculi was a nightmare.
"They have a business arrangement," Ruben said, eyes narrowing. "The Fifth is a pawn in their game. Once he secures his position among the kings, they'll discard him and seize power for themselves."
Silence descended, heavy with unspoken dread. Ruben's gaze bore into me.
"Defeat the Fifth, and you'll become their next target," he warned.
I pressed my lips together. One battle at a time. First, the Fifth. Then, the mages.
"Does the Fifth have any weaknesses?" I asked, breaking the tension.
"Perhaps iron. His fae heritage runs deep," Ruben speculated.
"And his army?"
"About four hundred seventy. Strong, and growing," he answered. "Second-generation vampires—fierce, relentless."
I nodded, the weight of impending war pressing down.
"Are you about to do what I think you are?" Ruben's tone was more a statement than a question.
"Depends on what you're thinking," I shrugged.
"You want to join forces with the hunters?" he said, his voice carrying a note of disapproval.
"Got any seer relatives, Ruben?" I replied with a faint grin.
"Not that I care about your fate, but if I were you, I'd steer clear of them," he grimaced.
I thought Ruben's disdain was reserved for me alone. I was wrong.
"I always wondered why you never sold them information," I said, intrigued. "They'd pay well enough..."
"To the hunters, Shaytan, we're all the same—prey to be eliminated," he said quietly. "No amount of money could make me betray even one of our kind. They can buy many things from me, but not my honor."
His eyes met mine, steady and piercing. "Even if they ally with you now, they'll turn on you eventually. They'll use whatever they learn against you in battle. But I don't need to tell you that... you're an informant. No one understands the stakes of war better than someone who traffics in secrets."
I grinned. "I used to be a hunter, Ruben. No one knows them better than I do."
"True enough," he conceded, before shifting the subject. "Is that all? I've told you everything I know."
I turned towards the door, pausing at the threshold. "Hey, Ruben."
"What?"
"I'll pay you next time."
He snorted, waving dismissively. A fleeting smile tugged at my lips before vanishing.
I stepped into the night, the cold air biting. As I made my way to the pub, I smoked half a pack of cigarettes. Before stepping inside, I lit one more, savoring the brief solace of the smoke curling into the night sky.
"Have you thought this through?" I heard the familiar voice.
It was the second time that day someone had asked me that. Do people around me really think I'm incapable of thinking for myself? I glanced down, locking eyes with Rolo. His expression was as unreadable as always, but I could sense his concern beneath the calm façade.
"Aren't you supposed to be sleeping?" I asked, taking another drag of the cigarette.
He ignored the question, choosing instead to press on. "I don't know what you're planning, but we can't go up against the Fifth. I barely survived his wrath. If we charge in, we'll die—and I don't want that. I don't want you to die either. Maybe it's smarter to let the vampire save his daughter and leave this be."
I gave his hair a quick, dismissive ruffle. "I'm not stupid enough to die, Rolo."
"You don't understand," he snapped, his voice rising in frustration for the first time. "They'll kill us. Those vampires have no mercy."
The words hung in the air, thick with tension. I let the silence stretch before responding.
"What's your full name?" I asked quietly, catching him off guard. "I've never asked before."
He blinked, clearly thrown by the sudden shift in the conversation. "Why do you want to know now?"
"If things go as planned, I'm taking you somewhere few monsters have ever been," I said. "I'll be introducing you to the family. So, I need to know your full name, don't I?"
"Hollósi," he replied, after a brief pause. "Roland Hollósi."
I finished my cigarette without another thought, but then I reached for another, lighting it without hesitation—one more for the growing weight of the situation.
"Will you introduce me to your family?" he asked after a moment.
"The family," I corrected him, exhaling smoke. "Tomorrow. Or rather, today."
He looked at me, eyes narrowing. "Do you really think you can win this war?"
For the first time, I saw the concern clearly in his eyes. It wasn't the usual casual indifference—he was truly worried. I raised my hand and flicked his forehead, a gesture meant to lighten the moment. But he slapped my hand away quickly and stepped back, his face flushed with anger.
"I'm trying to have a serious conversation here!" he snapped. "Can you just take me seriously for once?"
I shrugged nonchalantly. "I could say the same thing. If you don't trust me to win, you don't have to follow me."
I took another drag of the cigarette—its taste grounded me in the moment.
Rolo gave me a wry smile. "Aren't you getting a little cocky? No one can take on the whole world."
"Not alone," I said, taking another drag. "But with an army, you stand a chance."
"War is a bloody business," I continued. "If you hesitate, if you stop for even a moment, you're already defeated. If you don't believe in your victory until the very end, you'll lose. But I'll win."
Rolo chuckled lightly. "Ah, so this is the part where you say something epic again."
I flashed a grin. "You ruined my moment."
A few moments passed before I spoke again, this time more solemnly. "A parent is always responsible for the child, just as the child is responsible for the parent. But I don't care about that. It's not why I fight. I'm a proud monster—too proud to let that bastard challenge me by attacking my friends."
"Alright," Rolo said after a pause.
"What's 'alright'?" I raised an eyebrow, unsure.
"I'm with you," he declared. "Even if what we're about to do is insane."
I couldn't help but grin.
Alex sighed with a slight smile on his lips. With a subtle smile, he pulled the curtains closed, retreating into the covers as the door creaked open. There was no need for him to say anything—Rolo had done the speaking for him.