'Hagrit, why didn't you tell me anything about vampires existing in this world?' Sylvester telepathically asked Hagrit.
[We hadn't reached that part yet. I planned to go over all the creatures in this universe once you got home.]
'What other creatures are there?'
[Werewolves, witches, shapeshifters, and Fairies such as yourself.]
'Wow.'
[Once you're home, I'll give you the full rundown on every creature here.]
As Darren recovered from his initial shock of encountering the vampires, he started the engine again, speeding away. He was tense, gripping the steering wheel as he began to rant, "I hate those creatures. Out of all the supernatural beings that mingle openly with humans, they're the worst," he said, his eyes fixed on the road.
"It's interesting that you hate vampires," Sylvester said, his tone mocking. "You, who seem to have a taste for the dead."
Darren flushed, looking as if Sylvester's words had snapped him back into the harsh reality that he was still very much at his captor's mercy.
"Which of the creatures do you hate least?" Sylvester asked, studying him.
After a brief glance at Sylvester, Darren replied, "Werewolves."
"Why?"
"Werewolves know their place. They don't bother humans, don't need us for food, and stick to their own kind. Vampires, though… vampires want it all. Even with their so-called Real Blood, they still prey on us. The way things are going, they might take everything from us," Darren muttered, a genuine fear lacing his voice.
Sylvester wanted to ask what Real Blood was, but knew if he did, it might give Darren the impression that he was ignorant about something that appeared to be common knowledge.
They drove in silence for a while, until they pulled up outside the mayor's house in Cara's neighborhood. Darren parked in front of the enormous black gate, visibly shaking. "We're here. Are you… are you going to kill me now?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper as he risked a glance at Sylvester.
Sylvester stared at him for a moment, considering his next move.
[Now comes the tricky part. How do you get inside? Since everyone thinks Cara is dead.]
Realizing he hadn't planned this far ahead, Sylvester turned to Darren, who was still nervously waiting for his fate. "You're going to do something for me now."
"What is it?" Darren asked, his voice quivering.
"You're going to help me get inside. There's a reason I needed you to bring me here—I've lost most of my memories since waking up. You'll tell my family you found me wandering around the hospital near the morgue and decided to bring me home out of the goodness of your heart. Got it?"
"So… you're not going to kill me?" Darren asked, a flicker of hope in his eyes.
"If you do this for me, I won't kill you. Promise," Sylvester said, slipping the knife back into his pocket.
Darren sighed in relief. "Okay, I'll do as you say."
They both got out of the car and headed toward the gate. Darren pressed a button, and a security guard's voice crackled through the intercom. "Hello? Who are you, and what are you doing here at this hour?"
That's a lot of questions, Sylvester thought, loosening the belt of his jacket to add to his disheveled look.
"My name is Darren Polovski. I live nearby," Darren began, his tone as smooth as he could make it. "I was driving past the hospital when I saw a woman wandering around—"
"Please, sir, get to the point," the guard interrupted, his tone impatient.
"I'm getting there, man," Darren replied, his irritation showing. "It turns out the woman I saw is none other than Cara Bolton."
There was a pause, then the guard scoffed. "Sir, that's not funny. Miss Cara died this afternoon. We are all in mourning, asshole." He was about to close the peephole when Sylvester shoved Darren aside, stepping into view.
The guard's face went pale as he stared at Sylvester, his eyes widening. "Ma'am, is… is that really you?"
Sticking to the script he had written in his head, Sylvester acted confused, mumbling incoherently as though dazed.
The guard, a muscular heavy set man, visibly shaken, hurriedly opened the gate, allowing both Sylvester and Darren into the estate.
He moved forward to embrace Sylvester, his voice trembling with emotion. "Miss Cara, we all thought you were gone… Your family, especially your mother will be thrilled to see you alive. God must have sent you back."
Sylvester pulled back slightly. "I… don't remember you. My memory is still foggy. What's your name?"
"Maxwell, but you always called me Max," the guard replied, beaming.
[Cara must have been kind to him for him to be this happy to see her.]
'I hope they weren't too close, like fucking each other close. I could swear he got hard when he hugged me.'
[Yikes! Let's hope that's not the case.]
'It better not be the case, because it will never happen again, not with any man. Not while I still inhabit this body.'
[So if you had a quest that required you to sleep with a man, you wouldn't do it?]
'Yes. And kill any thought of giving me that kind of quest, because I won't activate it, nor will I won't fulfill it.'
[Ok, I have heard you, no men.]
Max led them through the vast, luxurious compound and into a grand mansion that reeked of wealth. Sylvester took in his surroundings, puzzled. Why would anyone living here work as a waitress? Something's not adding up.
They entered the dining room—a spacious, elegant area with a long, polished table at its center. Seated around it were four people, two men and two women, engaged in quiet conversation as they ate. But one beautiful, middle-aged Asian woman sat apart, her face shadowed by the evidence of a day spent crying.
The younger man at the table looked up and shouted, "Whoa! She's alive! She is fucking alive!"
At once, all heads turned toward the doorway. The Asian woman sprang to her feet and rushed toward Sylvester, her expression a mix of disbelief and hope. As she reached him, she threw her arms around him, embracing him with a desperation that spoke volumes. In that instant, Sylvester knew she was Cara's mother.
He hesitated, then wrapped his arms around her, allowing himself to sink into the warmth of her hug, realizing this was the closest he'd ever felt to having a mother. In his former life, his mother died immediately after birthing him.
Over her shoulder, Sylvester caught sight of the older man at the head of the table—most likely the mayor. His face was frozen in a mask of shock as he looked back at Sylvester. In the flicker of a second, Sylvester picked up on the man's thought: Why the hell is this bitch still alive?