"Moonbeams hide the truth, Shadows dance, secret sleeps."
.
Outside the shadow of Evergreen's main church, the priest's fervent sermons echoed through the streets, spreading fear and hatred. "To vanquish the undead, a stake through the heart or a garland of garlic is required. Some claim they'll burn in the sunlight, a fiery purgatory! The cross again is another way to end those bloodsucking animals." His words dripped with conviction, fueled by whispers of vampire sightings in the forest and beyond.
With his impact on half the population, If the people had heeded his call, most vampires would have met their demise. Now, as food scarcity gripped the town, the priest sensed a sinister force at play, However, it just was the cause of winter. But, the arrival of the vampire hunter, Draven, within their sacred walls only deepened his unease.
"Mister Headstone has made a pact with the devil himself," the priest proclaimed to his flock. "He invites evil into our midst, allowing the undead to walk among us, to fight battles that are rightfully ours." His voice trembled with righteous indignation.
Belladonna , shrouded in a white scarf and knitted matching cap (Ferguson had given her) observed the scene from outside the hospital, her heart heavy with worry. She couldn't bear to be near her ailing aunt, nor could she find peace within the crowded hospital walls. As evening descended, the priest's fervor reached a crescendo.
"You know the truth! You know these abominations shouldn't walk among us, shouldn't be seen in the light of day! You are the guardians of faith, the defenders of our sacred way!" Julius Peppers' words hung in the air like a challenge, as the crowd's murmurs grew into an ominous chant.
Belladonna yawned as Julius Peppers' fervent sermons drifted away. "Doesn't he ever tire of shouting? And why this obsessive focus on vampires?" she wondered aloud, still minding her tone, or else she would be seen as a witch in hiding.
Ferguson settled beside her, his mask dropped, revealing the scar on his face. "He hates them more than anything," he said, his eyes watching the crowd getting a bit larger.
"Definitely!."
Then, a pause.
Ferguson's raven-black hair cascaded over his piercing emerald eyes, a trait inherited from his father. His chiseled jawline and sharp chin perfectly complemented the maturity etched on his face, exuding an air of quiet confidence. His thick, arched eyebrows framed his almond-shaped eyes, while his straight nose added a touch of elegance. He sat with an effortless poise, his broad shoulders filling out his black leather coat, adorned with intricate silver threading – a testament to his status as a skilled doctor.
Belladonna couldn't help but notice the danger lurking in his fingers, capable of choking her with a single grip. Yet, she found herself drawn to him, her gaze lingering until she realized he was watching her from the corner of his eye. He, too, was captivated by her beauty.
Her nose, a perfect blend of elegance and strength, was slightly upturned, giving her an endearing quality. Her golden blonde hair shone like the sun, thick and luscious, framing her heart-shaped face. Ferguson was smitten, his eyes locked on hers – warm, honey-brown orbs that sparkled with kindness. Her slim, oval face, accentuated by high cheekbones and thin pink lips, left him breathless, his mind racing with the urge to kiss her.
"Are you okay leaving the patients unattended?" Belladonna asked, concern etched on her face.
"None are critical except your Aunt Mae," Ferguson reassured. "The nurses have everything under control. I also needed some fresh air." He gazed up at the clearing sky watching the clouds revealing the full moon. "I thought we'd have a snowstorm earlier, but it seems the clouds have passed."
"Definitely, I saw how gloomy the skies were."
Then, another pause.
Belladonna's expression turned nostalgic as she crafted a snowball. "Remember when I was younger and asked about your scar? You said it was a secret."
Ferguson's smile was tinged with melancholy. "You were ten, full of questions, and always sneaking into my office. Also I was going through my grandfather's book of medicine and stuffs and couldn't reveal what I didn't understand myself – an infection that defied explanation."
Her frown and pout brought a faint smile to Ferguson's lips. "You thought I was busy, but I was searching for answers."
"Answers which you would never use!" She said, rolling another snowball, when a memory struck, "Remember That night we snuck out together.."
"I remember."
His voice trailed off, and Belladonna sensed a hidden pain. "But I know you saved me. There's more to—"
Ferguson's abrupt shift in demeanor cut her off. "Remember Mister Headstone announced We leave at dawn. I'm sure you should Pack what's essential. Your aunt's belongings will be limited to a box or two, and yours won't pass just one. We can't delay. We would take care of your aunt so no worries, you can have a good night rest."
Belladonna's concern deepened. "Thanks. But Are you okay? You always change the subject?."
Ferguson stood, his mask secured once more. "Some wounds are mine to bear. I'm sorry, but I must return to work."
Belladonna watched Ferguson disappear into the hospital, leaving her with a mix of emotions. "Some wounds are yours to bear? What happened to the word, friend?. I wonder who's more enigmatic, Ferguson or Draven. They're like brothers, shrouded in secrets!" She tossed the snowballs at the street, her frustration evident.
As she sighed, fond memories of her and Ferguson's past flooded her mind. She had grown up alongside him, being the only friend and confidante. He would share secrets with her, but she had none to reciprocate. When she was five, he was twelve, and his grandfather's mysterious death had changed everything.
Ferguson's grandfather, a kind soul, had built the hospital with love and dedication. His passing, linked to an eerie visitor, had left a lasting impact. Ferguson, then sixteen, had become reclusive, locking himself within the hospital's walls, donning a black mask, and bearing a scar.
Belladonna recalled the night he returned, the night from which that day forth, he began wearing a black mask.
Bloodied and accompanied by a terribly wounded hunter. Her Aunt Mae had rushed to their aid, summoning skilled hunters and neighboring nurses. The memory still haunted her.
Ferguson's insistence on treating his injuries alone had raised questions, but Belladonna and the others had respected his wishes. However, she couldn't shake off the memory of that fateful night when she decided to be with him, outside the window– witnessing him inject a mysterious substance into his vein. She kept this secret, creating a rift in their once-open friendship.
As time passed, Ferguson's dedication to his work had distanced himself more from Belladonna. Her inquiries about the black mask and scar were met with evasion or silence. Their bond, once strong, had frayed.
Then, one memorable night stood out – a cold, rainy evening when the town slumbered. Belladonna had decided to sleep at the hospital, and Ferguson, unexpectedly, woke her up, inviting her to play. He said something about being lonely with continuous reading.
They donned thick clothes and explored the deserted streets, using secret passageways, haunting Julius peppers, who thought they were Satanic spirits.
As they moved to a new game, playing hide-and-seek, Belladonna's joy was infectious, warming her despite the chill. Ferguson's laughter echoed through the night, but when she vanished into the forest, her excitement turned to fear. Lost in the darkness, she realized she had wandered too far.
Despite her aunt's training in self-defense, Belladonna felt vulnerable without a knife or bow as she ran deeper into the forest. The wolf's howl still echoed in her mind and worse, when she encountered a towering figure. Assuming he was a hunter, she approached him, but his ominous voice sent shivers down her spine.
His words, "What is a little girl doing all alone in the forest?" haunted her as he drew closer. Panic set in, and she fled, only to bump into him again.
This time, he knelt with one knee and offering to bandage her wounded hand, but his elegant tone and obscured face filled her with dread.
Under the moonlight, she saw his black hair, but his face remained shrouded in darkness. Suddenly, an arrow whizzed past, hitting him. He caught it, revealing the design – Ferguson's mark.
Belladonna instantly got the message and fled as the arrow exploded.
Ferguson's panicked voice called out, "Belladonna!" She followed the sound, searching through, jumping pass dried logs and rotten wood, wet ground and thorns.
"Six o'clock!" he yelled, guiding her through the forest. As they navigated through thorns and deadwood, gunshots filled the air, accompanied by a hunter's yell, "Get away from the children, you blood-sucking beast!."
"I only needed the girl!" Came the response.
Belladonna remembered hearing those words and asking, "Who's that? Hope it's not Mister Headstone?."
"No, it's Ryker!."
As she heard Ferguson mention the town's skilled hunter, Belladonna felt a surge of relief. But her reprieve was short-lived, as she tumbled backward, mistaking the edge of a cliff for solid ground. She recalled falling, and Ferguson's desperate leap to save her, then the rush of bats, but her memories of that night were hazy.
When she woke up, she was back in the hospital, the hunter's scolding still echoing in her ears. Now, those events were just memories. Belladonna sighed, standing up and heading home through the empty streets, the church congregation having dispersed.
"I wonder if we will become best friends again, I miss the old Ferguson, I wish we were still close." Belladonna whispered to herself as she left.
Meanwhile, Ferguson locked himself in his office, frantically searching for something. "Where is it?" he yelled, panting and sweating profusely. He scattered papers and furniture until he found the case he sought. Opening it, he retrieved a syringe filled with a mysterious liquid and injected it into his jugular vein.
As the liquid took effect, his fangs transformed back into normal incisors. He pushed his hair backwards and tried sitting down on the nearby chair, but he feel on the ground instead. Ferguson, overcome with emotion, as tears streamed down his face.
"I hate this!" He slightly cried, "I hate this! I hate this!! I wish I could get closer to Belladonna. I wish this curse had befallen another, but not me. Belladonna, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry I couldn't stay with you just as we promised, I'm sorry for being the one placing a rift between us. I wish you can hear me, I wish you can say I've been forgiven."