The count laughs the laugh of an elf. “I… can inhabit you? You’re expecting a trade?” He guffaws. “So that I can slowly go insane, like all of your kind do?” The laughing stops. “No thank you.”
“Then what do you want?” Riven sounds bored, almost as dispassionate as the count looks.
But Jean-Claude’s cruel smile is anything but detached. I know what he’s going to do just before I feel the count move to do it.
In a split second, Jean-Claude leaps into the air towards Riven, his fangs bared. He means to kill Riven. But then all the wind pushes out of me. My mind feels like it’s splitting in two and I drop to my knees as I cradle my head in my hands. My sight fades to black. My heart beats so fast, it feels like it’s going to burst. Breathing is hard. Thinking is impossible.
There’s pain. Nothing but pain.
Then it’s gone. Just like that. As if someone snapped and ordered the pain away.
Riven is the only one standing. Grim and Tor are both on the ground. So am I. Even the count is on his knees, pressing a hand to his own chest.
Nasty creatures they are, claims a voice from seemingly a lifetime ago. All they know is pain. And then I understand what’s happened. The headmaster has ‘shadow dressed’, sending all of us his collected agony. It was the only way he could protect himself.
The count recovers, but before he moves, my gut twists. This time, I scream. The splitting headache pounds all the way to the stem of my brain. It hurts so badly, I think my teeth bleed. I cover my face with my hands, trying to hide from a thousand knives slicing my soul. Goddess, how does Riven put up with this?
Jean-Claude looks worse for wear. Blood pours out of his nose, his mouth, his eyes, and even his ears. A shadow demon is serious business. Anyone who claims that pain doesn’t kill is wrong. The count moves towards Riven.
“Don’t.” Riven infuses power in his command.
“You’re killing them,” the count’s rough-shod voice pants. “And they won’t survive.”
That’s why Faunus needs Jean-Claude. Puzzle pieces begin to click together.
While the count can still feel pain, he won’t die from it. The rest of us will. Jean-Claude can heal faster than most. He’s strong. Fast. The ultimate hunter. And probably the only thing that can keep up with a shadow demon. And the other reason Faunus needs Jean-Claude is owing to the count’s curse. I could see Jean-Claude’s true face through my True Seeing ability, but others here don’t have that ability. Someone close to the count would have seen he was changing simply by looking at his face—if they were able to see it.
The count goes for Riven again, but this time, my mind separates from my body. I’m in two places at once. I’m here in this cellar, but I’m also with the lady in the train who healed me. I’m with Harlow, swimming in a deep blue sea of emotion. Jean-Claude is there, whispering to me to keep my chin up. But there’s another presence here as well. It surrounds me, Harlow, Jean-Claude, Grim, Riddle, Tor and even Faunus. It’s the warmest aura I’ve ever felt. And it belongs to Riven.
The pain isn’t so bad anymore. I’m floating in the clouds, even as my heart is ten seconds away from giving out. Shock waves of hurt go through me, but the pain is somehow bearable.
Riven’s wave of pain suddenly begins to lessen. Maybe because he’s losing power, or, more likely, because I’m dying. Like how, when a person is about to freeze to death, they no longer feel the cold. Maybe it no longer hurts because my body has given out.
Behind me, I hear Riven yell, “Get out of Jean-Claude!”
And the pain intensifies. Nope. More pain proves I’m going to live—maybe.
“Now, Grim!” Riven shouts.
A fireball hits the vampire and flames engulf the count. He screams, an ungodly pitch. Metal screeching on metal wouldn’t be as painful. Horse hooves pound on my skull. I cling to Riddle, nearly passing out from the onslaught.
Through the agony, my heart cries out to Jean-Claude. He’s burning. The only “natural” enemy against a vampire is fire. The count’s body starts turning black. Even as he screams his agony, I know he’d rather become dust than betray those close to him.
Blue rings of energy ripple from Riven’s hands. A high-pitched whining, almost too high for my ears to pick up, accompanies the aura emanating from the shadow demon. Or it could be tinnitus. In fact, I won’t be surprised if my eardrums burst.
The flames consuming Jean-Claude’s body rage, but Riven steps forward, hands straining until the fire simmers and finally dissipates. The count drops in a heap to the ground.
“Is he alive?” I crawl towards Jean-Claude, hoping that whatever Riven has done to him has driven Faunus out of him.
Riven doesn’t answer. His eyes remain focused on Faunus, where the elf sleeps on the altar. Riven doesn’t flinch when Faunus takes a deep breath and opens his eyes. The elf then sits up and looks directly at Riven. Faunus grins.
“Grim,” Riven growls, “take Everly out of here.”
The words are out of my mouth before I can think, “Not without the count.”
A splash of green fire crashes into Riven and the headmaster screams.
“No!” Oh, goddess, no, no, no.
“Die!” Faunus yells at Riven, his hands covered in a sickly green flame.
I scream and lunge for Faunus. He turns to me, raises his hands, and throws a green ball at me. I have no time to dodge it, but before it hits me, Grim fires off his own flame-ball, intercepting the necromancer’s fire. Sparks fly, causing Faunus to turn his attention to the elemental. “You boundless abomination!”
Faunus
