Mori

For a second, her mind went blank. 

'Tonight.' 

The Vorvolak would strike tonight. The word barely registered in her brain, but then it hit her.

Her stomach twisted painfully, images flashing before her eyes—Mr. McMichael, David, Sarah—each of their faces passing in rapid succession like specters haunting her thoughts. Their hollow, terrified expressions, their torn bodies, haunted her like the dead were crying out for justice. How many more would it take? How many more people, just like them, would be ripped apart by the Vorvolak's claws before she could stop it?

Panic fluttered in her chest, a rising tide that threatened to sweep her under, but she shoved it down. She couldn't fall apart now. Not here. Not when the stakes were this high.

"Tonight?" Cass whispered, her voice tight, as if the word itself were strangling her. "Are you sure?"

Jamee nodded, his expression grim. "I'm sure. I should've cast this spell sooner, but it's advanced...and takes a lot out of me. That's why I held off. But I couldn't just stand by and let more people die." He rubbed his forehead, his fingers trembling. "Magic may look effortless, but it's all energy conversion. A transfer of energy from one form to another. For witches, their familiars serve as a sort of conductor. I'd tell you where witches get their energy from but I'd have to kill you," he chuckled humorlessly. "Either way, mages don't have that kind of luxury, so we have to make sacrifices, spill blood, channel objects—anything to draw that energy. It's tough work." 

He let out a slow breath, his hand dropping to his side as his legs wobbled. "Which is why I'm feeling a little anemic now," he muttered.

Jamee staggered slightly, and without thinking, Cass lunged forward to steady him. His body was colder than she expected, his skin clammy under her touch. It was then she really saw him—how drained he looked. His skin was almost translucent under the dull light of the motel room, and deep shadows had settled under his eyes. Sweat beaded on his brow, despite the chill air. 

"I'm fine, I'm fine," he murmured, brushing her off. But he wobbled again and Cass couldn't help but wonder if priests weekend allowed to lie so easily.

"You're not fine," Cass said, her voice sharper than intended. 

Jamee gave her a weak, crooked smile. "I don't have the time to be not fine. The Vorvolak will start hunting at nightfall."

Cass's heart clenched at his words. They had only hours left before the darkness took over. Still, her instincts kicked in, her voice firm as she said, "You should rest."

"Cassandra…" Jamee started, his tone resigned.

She cut him off, "No. You need to sleep. We can't face this thing if you're half-dead already. I need you to—" Her voice softened, pleading. "I can't do this without you. Please."

Jamee, who had begun clearing the bed of the weapons scattered on it, paused, glancing up at her with a raised brow. "We?"

Cass scoffed. "You didn't think I was letting you do this alone, did you?"

He gave a faint laugh, though it sounded exhausted. "No, that would be too merciful."

A small, half-smile tugged at her lips, despite the tension simmering between them. "Go to bed, Ashcroft."

Jamee turned towards the bed, his face drawn but with a teasing glint in his eyes. "Join me?"

For a moment, Cass froze. "Me?"

Jamee let out a weak chuckle, brushing his hair out of his eyes. "You need to be well-rested too, if you're going to come with me."

Cass wanted to protest, but something about the vulnerability in his eyes, the exhaustion pulling at him, made her hesitate. 

"Please," Jamee said softly, his voice raw. "I… I don't want to be alone."

The wind went out of her sails at the sound of it. She stood still for a second, her breath hitching in her throat. "Okay," she whispered.

She helped him clear the rest of the weapons off the bed. When they lay down, he curled up closer to her torso than she'd anticipated. His body fit against hers like it belonged there, his head resting against her stomach, the rise and fall of his breath soft against her ribcage. 

"Is this okay?" He asked, quietly.

Cass's heartbeat pounded loudly in her ears. "Yeah."

The intimate closeness took her by surprise, and for a moment, she didn't know what to do with her hands, hovering them awkwardly until instinct took over and she gently combed her fingers through his blonde hair.

"Is this okay?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Jamee's eyes closed, his breath calming as he murmured, "Yeah." 

They lay in silence after that, their breathing the only sound filling the space, her fingers continuing their soft, repetitive motion, stroking his hair as sleep slowly began to pull them under. 

It felt strange—comforting, intimate, and yet… bittersweet. Like something was slipping away from them both, and they didn't quite know what.

Jamee's voice came out in a sleepy whisper, "Thank you… for being here."

Cass's throat tightened, a lump forming as she replied softly, "Thank you for helping… for not running away."

Jamee let out a breath, and though he didn't say it, she knew what he was thinking. 'Why are you thanking me? Tonight might very well be our last'.

She didn't even realize she had fallen asleep until she woke to the gentle tapping of Jamee's hand on her arm. Blinking groggily, she saw him standing over her, already dressed. His cassock gleamed in the fading twilight, the gold trim of the robes catching the dying light. A leather double shoulder holster crossed over his chest, two handguns tucked neatly inside. Even in her sleepy haze, Cass could make out the faint etchings of magic circles engraved into the grips.

"Here," Jamee said, tossing her a small black bag. "There are spelled grenades, daggers, and other items you might need inside. We have to go now."

Cass rubbed her eyes, her vision still adjusting. Outside the motel window, the sun had already begun to sink below the horizon, casting long shadows over the town. A thin sliver of the waning gibbous moon appeared in the darkening sky, foreshadowing a full moon by the end of the week.

Cass stood, slinging the bag over her shoulder as she followed him out to the parking lot, her breath fogging in the cold night air.

"We'll start from the woods and work our way back into town," Jamee said, mounting his motorcycle. His voice was steady, but she could see the tension in his shoulders. "It's the most likely place for the Vorvolak to hide, but we can't go too far from the town. It'll go where the people are. Where the food is."

Cass shivered, not from the cold but from the way he described humans as food. She understood, of course. That was how the creature saw them.

Jamee rode carefully through town, the bike gliding smoothly along the quiet streets. Cass kept her senses wide open, the rush of sound almost overwhelming—the laughter of children, the quiet murmur of families settling down for dinner, the faint hum of cars rolling by. Every noise pressed in on her, a headache building behind her eyes, but she forced herself to focus, to push through the pain.

As the night deepened, the town grew quieter. Houses dimmed as families went to bed, the occasional flicker of a TV screen visible through half-drawn curtains. Soon, the streets were empty, the only sounds were the low purr of the motorcycle and the distant call of night birds. The air felt heavy, thick with anticipation.

Cass's heartbeat quickened. She could feel it—the tension in the air, the lurking threat just out of sight.

Then she heard it.

A sharp scream, piercing through the stillness of the night.

"Jamee, go!" she yelled, her voice cutting through the quiet. She reached forward and pulled one of his handguns out of the holster, pointing in the direction of the sound, her heart hammering in her chest.

Jamee didn't hesitate. The bike roared to life as he sped toward the outskirts of town, toward the woods. The scream echoed again, louder this time. A cry for help.

By the time they reached the edge of the trees, Jamee hopped off his bike without even bothering to turn it off, hopping off of it and taking off into the woods. Cass swore under her breath as she crashed along with the motorcycle. The machine pressed her foot against the floor and she pulled it free, ignoring the shock of pain shooting through her nerves. Her body will heal, eventually. 

She took off running into the woods, the head start Jamee had on her was nothing. Her blood was pumping hotly through her veins, her body responding to the powers that lay dormant beneath her skin. Soon, she could see Jamee's backside as he ran ahead of her. 

Not that that mattered seeing as they were both face to back with the monster.

Or, she supposed it was a back.

The Vorvolak was a wispy figure of black fog and bad intentions. It was there, but not quite. Blending into the darkness, sweeping around itself; the only thing Cass could make out was its eyes— sharp, deep orange and hyper focused on the young man in a cheap Halloween mask who was backed against a tree, shaking uncontrollably. 

"I— I was just trying to pull a prank, man!" the guy babbled, tears streaming down his face as he stared up at the shadowy figure looming above him.

The Vorvolak moved like smoke, its massive claw raising in the air, ready to strike. 

"Jamee!" Cass yelled, holding out her gun.

Before the creature could bring its claws down, Jamee dove forward, shoving the terrified man out of the way and taking the blow himself. The Vorvolak's claws moved too fast, a blur of black mist solidifying just long enough to slice through flesh. Jamee's grunt of pain was sharp, but brief, as if the air had been punched from his lungs. Blood sprayed the ground, dark red against the white moonlight.

"NO!" Cass screamed.

She fired. Once. Twice. Heck as many times as the damn gun would allow. The Vorvolak screeched, its piercing wail cutting through the stiff silence of the night. It's form shifted again and now, it was facing her. But she wasn't about to give it time to  attack her too. She pulled one of the spelled grenades from her bag, launching it toward the creature. It exploded with a flash of light, the air cracking with magic. The Vorvolak screeched, its form flickering before disappearing into the shadows.

But Jamee was on the ground, blood pouring from his side.

"Holy shit man," the young man said, then dry heaved. "Holy fuck."

Cass couldn't care less about him. He had his life. There was only one person here losing his. She rushed to Jamee's side, her heart pounding, the world narrowing to just him, the crimson staining his cassock. She tore off her jacket, pressing it against his wound, her hands shaking.

"No, no, no," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. Her voice trembled, her hands trembling as she tried to stop the bleeding. "Please—"

She pressed harder against the wound, her breath hitching with each shallow gasp he took. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. Jamee wasn't supposed to be the one bleeding out. He was supposed to know how to stop the monster. He was supposed to make it.

Jamee's eyes fluttered open, weak and distant, but he still managed a small smile, his voice barely a whisper. "Hey... don't cry."

Cass wanted to yell at him. 'Don't talk! Don't die! You're not allowed to die!'

"I'm calling an ambulance," she said, fumbling for her phone, but Jamee's hand weakly grabbed hers, pulling it down.

"No," he rasped, shaking his head. 

Cass stared at him in disbelief, her throat tightening. "Jamee, please, I— I can't—"

She pressed harder against the wound, but the blood kept coming, warm and slick between her fingers. His breathing was fading, his chest barely moving with each shallow breath.

Tears blurred her vision as she choked out, "Please, don't go. I need you."

He smiled faintly, the light in his eyes fading. "I'll be okay," he whispered.

Liar.

Cass was shaking, her heart breaking. He was more than a stranger now. He was her friend, her guide through this nightmare, and she couldn't lose him. Not now. Not like this.

Suddenly, she felt a presence behind her. She tensed, the hairs on the back of her neck standing up.

"Sladosti."

The voice was unmistakable. She didn't even have to turn around to know who it was. 

Uriel.

She closed her eyes, the tears spilling over as frustration, anger, and heartbreak overwhelmed her. She barely whispered, "You've got to be kidding me."

Uriel's voice was closer now, soft, almost hesitant. "I was worried about you, Sladosti. I... I hate the way we left things. I was looking for you."

She felt his presence next to her now, but she couldn't bring herself to look at him. Not with Jamee lying there, dying in her arms.

"I heard the monster screaming," Uriel continued, his voice tight with concern. "I came as fast as I could."

Cass bit her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Now's not the time, Uriel," she hissed, her voice breaking. 

He knelt beside her, his sharp gaze landing on Jamee. "Shit," he muttered under his breath, his face twisting in frustration. "He's not going to make it."

Cass wanted to snap at him, to scream, but her voice was raw, fragile. "I can see that."

In a way, she was almost happy that Jamee's eyes were shut now. She doubted Uriel's face was the last he'd want to see.

His pulse was faint and fading, his skin was turning blue. Her hands held on useless to the bloody jacket pressed to his torso but it would not return Jamee's blood to his body. If only they'd arrived a minute earlier, he may have been able to take down the Vorvolak without incident but Cass knew the feeling of jumping in between a citizen and danger. She knew that raw, visceral instinct to stop a threat before protecting yourself from it. She knew it was involuntary, faster than a knee jerk reaction and twice as natural.

Still, the man had a fucking sword and he couldn't even use it.

She didn't have any pride left in her, not now. She cast it aside and begged, her voice broken. "Please... help him. Uriel, please."

The vampire had saved Jamee once before. Surely, he could do it again.

Uriel's face was unreadable, his gaze dark and contemplative. "I could do save him... but I'm not sure he'd thank me for it," he said, his voice low, almost regretful. His gaze flicked between Cass's tear-streaked face and Jamee's blood-soaked form. "This isn't a choice I make lightly, Cassandra. But if you want him to live..."

"I don't care," Cass whispered. "Please. Anything."

Uriel sighed softly, his expression hardening. "Be careful what you wish for, Sladosti."

Then, he bared his fangs.