Chapter 10

In the artificial glow of a diner that never sleeps, Elise, John, Annabelle, and Crimson found a booth that felt like a sanctuary from the madness they'd fled. Hunched over steaming mugs that warmed their hands more than their spooked souls, they pieced together the night's surreal puzzle.

Elise broke the silence, her voice a soft murmur against the clink of cutlery and the low hum of late-night chatter. "That was, like, majorly insane. Are we actually buying this? Vampires?"

John took a long sip of his coffee, his gaze distant. "Man, I don't even know. But you saw what I saw, right? Dude wasn't exactly normal."

Annabelle, her nerves frayed, played with the bracelet on her wrist, a grounding habit. "Normal flew out the window the second we stepped into that house. This is next-level creepy."

Crimson leaned back, his eyes scanning their faces, the scholar in him trying to reconcile fact with fiction. "Guys, I'm telling you, Jacques de St. Germain was no joke. If he's back, or like, never left... that's bad news for NOLA."

Elise shook her head, disbelief and fear warring for dominance. "Okay, but how do we even deal with something like this? It's not like we can just call Blade."

John let out a hollow laugh, but the humor didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, and I don't think my gym membership covers vampire hunting."

Crimson folded his arms, his expression serious. "We document everything. We can't go to the cops with this. They'll think we're tripping."

The group leaned in over the diner's sticky table, the buzz of the neon sign outside casting an otherworldly glow on their tense faces. Crimson's expression was grave as he addressed the team's suggestion to involve the authorities.

"Yo, listen up," Crimson started, his voice a steady thrum of seriousness, "If we go to the cops with this, best-case scenario, they laugh us off as some kind of joke. Worst case? We end up on the Midians' radar."

John, his arms crossed defiantly, shot back, "So we're just supposed to keep this on the DL? Pretend like we didn't just see some cosplay Dracula going full buffet on a dude?"

Crimson shook his head, his crimson eyes locking onto John's. "It's not about keeping it quiet, man. It's about being smart. These Midians, they've got something called Compulsion. It's like... like mind control, almost. They can make you do things, see things, even forget stuff. It's no joke."

Elise interjected, "Wait, you're saying they can just Jedi mind trick us into believing whatever they want?"

"Pretty much," Crimson replied, "And that's why we can't risk tipping them off that we're onto them. They could have the police in their pocket, or worse, they could turn us against each other without us even knowing."

Annabelle slumped back, her face pale. "That's so messed up. So, what, we're just sitting ducks?"

"Not if we're careful," Crimson assured her. "We've got to play it cool, keep our heads down, and figure this out without letting on that we know what's up."

The group's collective murmur of agreement was tinged with anxiety, but also a renewed sense of purpose. They were in this together, and they'd have to be cunning and cautious to outsmart an enemy that wielded such insidious power.

The group then agreed that their best bet for understanding the bizarre events was Professor Ivanov.

Elise flipped open her notebook, the pages filled with meticulous notes. "We lay out the facts, no crazy theories. Just what we've seen and found. Ivanov's our best shot at figuring this out."

John, still jittery from the encounter, spun his spoon in his coffee. "Yeah, and let's hope he doesn't think we've lost our marbles. We gotta keep it one hundred, no cap."

Crimson nodded, pulling a small pouch from his backpack. "Before we go, take these," he said, passing around items tinged with the old mystique—silver trinkets and pointed stakes. "For protection, or at least a bit of peace of mind."

Annabelle eyed the stake with a mix of skepticism and respect. "Guess it's time to level up. Feels like we're in some supernatural video game."

As they pocketed the items, Crimson added, "We need to find Mandrake too. According to the 'Bloodborne of Orleans,' it's like kryptonite to these creatures. The smell alone could send them into a frenzy."

"Where are we gonna get that, a witchcraft supply store?" John quipped, trying to ease his own tension with a bit of levity.

Elise shot him a half-smile. "You'd be surprised what you can find in New Orleans if you know where to look."

With their plan set, they left the diner, the night air feeling a touch less ominous with the weight of silver in their pockets.

Huddled around a table in Annabelle's dorm room, the group leaned in as Elise unpacked her latest find. She laid out a series of old, brittle records like a seasoned archivist prepping for an exhibit.

"Guys, you won't believe what I scored from the archives," Elise announced, her voice a mix of excitement and gravity. "These bad boys are like a treasure map to the city's creepy-crawly history. Check it out—they mention the Bloodborne of Orleans and their vampire fan club shenanigans."

John looked over, his eyebrows arching in intrigue. "Whoa, so you're telling me this Bloodborne crew is basically a bunch of fanboys hoping to get their vampire membership cards? That's wild."

"Yeah," Elise continued, flipping through the pages. "But it gets better. They think if they're, like, super loyal groupies, the Midians will hook them up with the ultimate VIP pass: turning them into actual vamps. It's all here, in a ritual that's got more drama than a reality show finale."

Annabelle snatched one of the papers, scanning it quickly. "This is the real deal, fam. We're talking blood pacts, secret ceremonies—the whole nine yards."

Crimson, who had been quiet, pointed at a symbol in the margins. "You see this? It's not just for show. This symbol pops up in some of the oldest vampire lore. Looks like our Bloodborne pals might be playing with fire."

John unfolded his map, spreading it out for all to see. "And speaking of playing with fire, peep this." He pointed to a series of red dots that formed a chilling pattern around the campus. "These dots? They're all the spots where weird stuff has gone down recently. Makes you wonder what's really lurking in the shadows, huh?"

The group leaned over the map, their faces reflecting the gravity of John's findings. Elise shook her head, a wry smile on her face. "I used to think this city was just jazz and beignets. Now? It's like we're extras in a supernatural crime drama."

Annabelle looked up, determination in her eyes. "Well, if we're going to crack this case, we need to keep digging. These Midians and their groupies won't know what hit 'em."

Their camaraderie was tinged with a newfound resolve as they pored over the documents and the map. They were no longer just a group of friends—they were investigators on the edge of uncovering a darkness that threaded through the heart of New Orleans.

As the clock neared midnight, the four friends stood outside Annabelle's dorm, the night's chill wrapping around them like a sinister cloak. The earlier adrenaline had faded, leaving a cold determination in its place.

"Alright squad, it's game time," Annabelle declared, her voice a mix of courage and anxiety. "We're gonna blow the lid off this whole freaky thing."

Crimson nodded, his pale face serious in the moonlight. "For sure. We've got to get to the bottom of this, no matter how deep we gotta dig."

John, his earlier humor gone, clenched his fists. "Yeah, let's show these Midians they can't mess with us. We're gonna take this all the way."

Elise, ever the planner, checked her phone. "We'll hit up Ivanov after the lectures tomorrow. We need to keep it tight and low-key until then."

The group exchanged a series of determined nods, their shared mission binding them tighter than ever.

"Tonight's been all kinds of crazy," John said, breaking the heavy silence. "I say we try to catch some Z's, regroup in the morning, and come at this with fresh eyes."

"Yeah, and let's keep this on the down-low," Elise added, a shadow crossing her expression. "The less chatter, the better. We don't want this getting out and causing a panic."

Crimson's eyes flashed in the dark. "Trust no one," he murmured, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "The walls have ears, and who knows what else."

Annabelle shivered, pulling her jacket tighter. "Geez, Crimson, way to keep it creepy. But you're not wrong. Let's zip it until we're with Ivanov."

They started to disperse, each feeling the weight of the night's revelations.

"Hey, stay sharp," John called out, his voice low. "And maybe sleep with a stake under your pillow, you know, just in case."

The others chuckled nervously, the sound hollow against the backdrop of the foreboding night.

"Goodnight, you guys. See you on the flip side," Elise said, offering a half-hearted wave as they each turned toward their own dorms.

The night had indeed shifted from a canvas of youthful dreams to a shadowy realm of dangers unknown. As they retreated to the perceived safety of their rooms, the reality of their situation settled in their minds. They were in this together, come what may, united against the whispers of an ancient evil that now seemed all too real.