Malcolm

˚

Of all the places…

I stare at the black building that stands out in the morning light like a blemish on flushed skin. One could believe it abandoned at first glance, but there is not a single chip in the brick exterior—it is as meticulously maintained as its surrounding lot. But even if I had missed those fine details, my ears are sharp enough to pick up on the movement underfoot.

The souls of the living and the dead are hidden underground.

My fingers rap against the tree shading me while I eye the structure. There are no windows and no alternative entrance. The large oppressive doors are the only way inside, and I am not about to knock to enter a slave house.

Force would be needed, and that was fine if it came to it. None strong enough to challenge me are anywhere near this cesspit, but I am not blinded by instinct so badly that I would start strife with Diablos based on a feeling I still fail to understand.

I half-believed that it would be useless once I was free to follow its invisible strings, but the moment Wequie and I parted outside my abode, my soul had chosen a direction and my body carried me toward it.

Like chasing a dream, I’d run across lands both familiar and foreign until I found the nesting point of my latest madness. Now here I stand, outside one of Diablos’ oldest slave houses with not the slightest clue of what I am doing.

The feeling is strongest here, pulsing methodically in my dried veins. It is as if hunger has been given life and has rooted itself in me, demanding to be fed my attention, and I am desperate to give it.

I step forward, but I do not even part from the shadows’ embrace before a thin figure appears onto my path.

“My lord,” Vasile greets quickly, bowing so deeply that his nose almost touches the heated earth.

My fingers twitch, itching to shove his face into it. “Vasile,” I acknowledge, my lip curling over my fang until I rein myself in. 

Vasile may have never done a bad thing to me, but he held the title of slave driver, which meant that he did plenty of horrible things to others, and that made him vermin in my eyes. He raises his auburn head minutely, but his gaze lingers on the four bodies beneath me.

I had not come here planning to kill anyone, but the newborns so often neglected sense and history, and these had thought to threaten me, and then to attack me when I did not comply with their demands.

I flick the drying blood from my fingertips while Vasile lets his gaze lift. He keeps his gaze beneath mine, fixing it on my chest instead—a trained effort of placation.

“I did not receive word of your…visit,” he begins carefully. When I do not speak, he adds, “There were tales that you were resting.”

“Oh.”

“But my negligence is an error on my part alone,” he quickly amends, dipping his head again.

With another, I would do all I could to absolve them of their fear until they looked at me as they might any other, but I leave this one to rot in it while I carefully pluck information from his fretful lips.

The oversharing comes automatically with fear on the table, and though I am not as feared as my counterparts, as the Fifth, it is an unfortunate prerequisite. Man and animal alike ran at my approach, and it only worsened with age.

Lincoln did not mind it; he preferred it, but that’s what made Lincoln, Lincoln.

“The Auction is this evening,” Vasile shares, spilling into the quiet. “If you are attending,” he pauses, attempting to read me, only to find himself at an impasse, “we will ready space for you.”

I hum, and while I mean for it to be plain, my anger turns it into a sharper sound that forces Vasile’s gaze to drop to my feet.

If I had not done so a thousand times before, I would have already killed Vasile and all his trainers before freeing the ones surely chained beneath. But I had done it before, and it always ended the same way.

A new Vasile was appointed, a new slave house was built, and Diablos would find a loved friend of mine to pay the price for the trouble caused. I learned a long time ago that if I wanted to help, it was easier and better for all to indulge the practice to save the few.

Drifting my gaze over Vasile’s purtrid form, I eye the structure behind him and my chest tightens cruelly. To wait until tonight would be torture, but it would be easier walking through open doors than ripping them off their hinges.

I turn, meaning to leave, but it is surprisingly difficult— putting one foot in front of the other and leaving… whatever it is that hides in that building. I manage by sheer will. Leaving Vasile where he is with the piled bodies of his comrades, I head toward my next destination.

An Auction. It is the very last thing I want to taint myself with, but I would not let another night pass without uncovering whatever hid in that building.

I only needed to be prepared, but there was still so much I did not know and too little time to learn it. If my foretelling had been more forthcoming, I would have kept Wequie close for longer and attended with him, but, as useless as ever, it had evaded me when I truly needed it.

I would need another, and I knew just the one. A smile pulls on my lips as I make my way towards my best friend. 

˚

The day I met Lincoln— Lincoln, not the First— I found him in the midst of saving a human woman from a mammoth.

I had heard her scream, but I was hopeless and tired of helping, so I did not go. Not until I sensed him, and there he was, saving her. A vampire— the very first vampire… saving a human.

Baffled and impossibly transfixed, I watched the entire exchange until he scared the mammoth off. Then, as if that wasn’t all boggling enough, he took the shirt off his back to replace her tattered one.

It went against everything I knew and all I had seen, and it had given me hope. And hope was almost a myth at the time. 

I followed him after that like a lost chick, much to Lincoln’s dismay. Back then, he terrified me so deeply that I could not speak in his presence without stuttering, but even so, I had nothing else to cling to but that hope, so I’d clung to him. Even while he’d threatened to end my unimpressive life and told me that he wanted nothing to do with me, I stuck.

But Lincoln never went through with his threats. For as colourful and serious as they were, my life remained intact and eventually, a friendship bloomed. Forced by my hand, yes, but a friendship nevertheless. 

And Lincoln might not know it, but that woman was not the only one he saved that day.

His rooms are empty, but chilled enough to promise that he is near. Chest warming, I slide my gaze over the familiar interior. His bedpost is the same, but the bedding is thankfully new. There are fewer books lining its edges, less than before. The habit seeming to have waned, but not completely. There’s a leather couch opposite his dresser now as well, though it looks untouched.

I breathe it all in, taking in the scent of aged books and fine wine— Lincoln.

Toeing my way to his cabinets, I eye the few items lined atop. There is the vile of sand from Wequie’s home shores, the first book he ever read, a collected set of poems, and the encased owl feather from our first adventure.

I smile as I leave them be and slip into his bathroom to wash the blood from my hands. The water is ice cold, and I do not need to look around to know that outside of his bed, Lincoln has not been taking care of himself. But he rarely ever does. I would need to fix that.

I meet my reflection in the mirror for the first time while I dry my hands and feel my mind flounder. I looked the very same as I had when I’d climbed into that coffin, and yet, it is staggering to face myself. Thought, I suppose it always has been.

Easier to live in my head with all its mismatched thoughts and needs, worse to face it.

Approaching steps make my stomach lurch with excitement as I rush out. “Lincoln, you need to get your piping sorted. There’s only cold water.”

I’m already smiling, but it widens the moment I lay eyes on my best friend.

Familiar black eyes loosen their murderous stare, widening with shock and something warm he will never admit to. He stands just beyond his doorway with several bloodbangs in one hand and another raised for an attack. He discards that plan as he takes me in, and I do the same.

The last time I saw Lincoln, he wore soiled silk robes as he readied for bed. Today, he wears a loose, cotton-type of trousers that hang from his hips and, at the very least, seem clean.

Otherwise, he looks awful. 

Which is a shame because when he takes care, Lincoln is a handsome man. His features have been considered attractive in every age and era, but seeing as he is not, he is a pale, ghostly-thin figure that looks far weaker than he is. But Lincoln’s strength never showed itself on the outside. It was hidden.

His annoyance, however? He never hid that.

“What are you doing here?” He grumbles as he drags himself forward, barely bothering to lift his feet off the ground. He unceremoniously dumps the bags onto the small table beside his bed, but lifts one to his dry lips.

He drinks greedily, and my grin widens. He’s drinking on his own. “Is that any way to greet your best friend after seventy-five years?”

Lincoln’s brow twitches slightly. His irritation swells, though I’m not sure if it is because of how much time I have allowed to pass or the manner in which I fall onto his couch, getting myself comfortable.

“I thought you were dead.”

I stifle a laugh. Gods, I’ve missed him.

By all accounts, the last thing Lincoln would ever call us was friends, and if anyone asked, he would name me a pest he could not rid himself of, but I knew, as he did, that no other claimed his favour like I did. 

If I were anything other than a friend to him, I would be hanging from my innards at his gates, and he would not be subtly checking me for wounds.

“So does the entire world apparently. I swear to the Gods, you take a short nap and everybody forgets who you are.” I glance at my fingers, glad to see the blood is gone. “I can’t believe you are still living in this old, ugly castle…alone. You’ve been here for two hundred years, Lincoln! I thought, well, I hoped, that in my absence you’d escape this prison of your own making.”

I had gifted Lincoln this castle ages ago, meaning for it to be one of the many places he would call a home. I never thought he’d root himself like an anxious gerbil.

“I have blood and my phone, there is no need.” He slides a small rectangular device from his table and waves it at me.

I stand quickly. “I saw those everywhere on my way here. The humans couldn’t keep their little hands off of them. A phone you called it?” He passes it once I’m in reach, and a chill rushes down my spine as the sleek cold slides into my fingertips. 

It is cold like witch’s stone, but Lincoln would never allow their magic so close to him. Turning it over, I examine it before I press the only button at the bottom. It lights up, and I immediately fling the sorcery from my grasp. 

“I see they’re back to their demonic practices.”

“It is not demonic,” Lincoln drawls while he picks up the device. Its hexing screen is thankfully broken when he turns it over. “It’s technology. Advancing technology.”

I hum while I take a step back. One could never be too safe. “You can update me all about this technology after the auction.” Lincoln’s gaze snaps to mine, outrage flaring within it as he glares at me. “Oh, don’t look at me like that! I need a slave if I’m going to survive in this new world.”

Not the truth. Not anymore, but playing the lonely sud who bought his company was easier than explaining the perils of my vision right now. Lincoln loathed it when I let myself be led by the ones I did not understand. If he knew, he’d dig his heels and force me to do the same.

“You don’t need a slave,” he grinds out through his fangs. “You choose to get one.”

“I don’t judge your way of life, and so you don’t get to judge mine.” He raises a brow. “Okay, I may judge yours, but you don’t get to judge mine. It’s just the way this amazing friendship works.”

“I’m not coming with you.”

Lincoln inches toward his bed, but I catch his arm before he can sink into it. The second he goes down, this fight is lost.

“You don’t have to get one. I just need the company,” I try desperately. Lincoln was always nicer when he thought I was lonely. “I believe things have changed greatly in my absence, and at least you’ve kept yourself up to date. I’ve always liked that about you. Much is different now. I don’t know how it works. Just help me out, just this once.”

“No.”

“Linc, please. You know I’ve never mistreated a slave in my entire life. I treat them nicer than the rest of them. Help me before some poor soul ends up in worse hands.”

Lincoln pauses, and though his glare deepens, I know that I’ve got him. “I wish you really were dead.”

“Aw, Linc,” I swoon. “I missed you too.”

Rolling his heavy eyes, he tosses the empty blood bag to the side and drags himself to his dresser. I follow behind him and scan him for any bruises I may have missed. 

With Wequie, I only had to ask, but Lincoln would hiss and scratch if I dared to vocalise my care for him. So I keep my hands to myself until he plucks a navy, blue suit from its shadowed depths. I am quick to free him from it, escaping to the bathroom before his hand can find my neck.

“You know the best part about us being best friends?” I say as I emerge, fully dressed. “Being the same size.”

Lincoln stands in front of a drawer in a black suit that fits him better than I’d think, given his condition. “Yeah, it’s amazing.” 

I glide to him and then rush over when I spot the array of watches that attracts me like a moth to a flame. He doesn’t spare me a glance as I stop by his side and pick my favourite before carding my fingers through the strange spectacles sitting beside them.

“What are these?” I slide them on, and the world becomes sheeted in shadow. “Everything is dark.”

“They help with the sunlight,” Lincoln informs while he chooses one for himself.

The sun’s power on us decreases with age. What used to be a burning sensation that peeled the skin from our bones became nothing more than an itch if we stayed out for too long. But the pain returned to its full height when we neglected our bodies by not drinking enough blood or falling into slumber.

Unfortunately for myself, where Lincoln only needed these peculiar eye devices, my skin had done a lot more than itch on the way here.

“So, apparently, Camila died,” I start as we walk out of his bathroom. “I have no one protecting me from the sunlight while I recover. I was wondering if you cou—”

“No,” he dismisses as he marches out of his rooms. “Figure it out yourself.”

My shoulders fall, “Love you too, buddy.”

–

In a handful of seconds, we’re out and on the roads, travelling in the latest version of a vehicle that does not shake as much. I’m not sure if that’s because of the machine or the lack of cobbles on the roads.

Those are gone, along with much else that once gave daily life character. At least it is in these parts. All the buildings look the same, as if every architect had been exiled, but an uninspiring few. It is all plain too, and without warmth. Empty.

“Whose auction is this?”

I tear my gaze away from the thin glass, but keep a hand on the handle in case I need to jump. “Diablos.”

Lincoln’s foot slams down on the brakes, bringing us to a shrieking halt while the surrounding cars swerve, hastily moving out of the way with angered honks, not that he notices or cares. Head shifting slowly, Lincoln settles his inflamed gaze upon me as red burns out the black of his irises and his fangs drop.

“I’m sorry,” I begin as I press myself against the slim door, “but if I told you earlier, you wouldn’t have agreed.”

Lincoln strangles the wheel, undoubtedly picturing it as my neck, and I can not blame him.

Diablos was… the worst of us. There were some I often thought did not know any better and only practised what they were taught. But Diablos did, and he still chose to inflict his cruel hand upon everyone he could.

But he was the Second, and stronger than me. I could not think to face him alone. Lincoln could. He could rip his spine from his throat, but Lincoln needed to care first, and it had been a long time since Lincoln truly cared about anything.

“We’ll be in and out before you know it,” I try when Lincoln’s burning stare begins to sizzle my skin. “He won’t be there. We are just going to the old estate. I take it you haven’t forgotten where that is?”

“Malcolm,” Lincoln grinds out.

“Yes?” I answer eagerly.

“Shut up.”

“Okay.”

˚

The estate is entirely different at night when it is shrouded in shadows. It blends in, with the only light being what crawls out of the now open doorways. The formerly empty lot is brimming with vehicles that match Lincoln’s, as vampires stationed highest in Diablos’ ranks make their way inside.

We follow their path, but take our time as eyes settle on us and do not part.

It is no secret that Lincoln and I abhor this corner of our species, but there is none here brave or foolish enough to challenge our attendance. And unbeknownst to Lincoln, I had already prepared our path to be faultless.

Inside, the building blooms large, widening into an exhibition hall. A circular podium lies at the bottom centre, while the surrounding chairs climb above almost to the roof. The only lights now exposed inside are all fixed on the centre point where the undeserving will soon take the stage.

My stomach turns uncomfortably as Lincoln and I take our seats near the front.

Lincoln’s gaze surveys the crowd with unmasked disgust, and I withhold my apologies for the time being. I did not want to subject him to this, but I needed to know what was hiding in this place.

It is close, unbearably so, and only sense keeps me from abandoning my ploy and searching for it myself. Might the source be with someone in this crowd, or one of the trainers? Some newly discovered power they held without knowing what it truly was?

If it were, then I can not sense it from any of the vampires as I take them all in, in turn. They remain bland, infuriating and a notch on my belt to handle later, when time provides the opportunity.

The lights dim in the middle of my search, and I force myself to still as the center stage becomes the focal point.

Vasile takes to the stage, but not as the Vasile I know him to be. Instead of being quiet and watchful, he puts on a show for his guests. Vasile was dangerous in this way; very few knew his true character, and he preferred it so.

He greets the crowd, promising a memorable night of ‘exotic treasures’. The words blood my boil and make Lincoln tense in his seat, but he remains as I do, pliant for now.

When the first slave rises from an opening in the stage, and the bidding begins, I avert my gaze. It’s not fair to hide when they can not, but it is the only grace I can offer in this moment of selfishness.

But as the bodies come and go, the pulsing sensation in my chest tightens until I have to look, if only to make sure that I do not miss what I am searching for. It feels almost like following a blood-trail, only my newly-awakened soul is my guide, not my nose, and whatever I am searching for taunts me with its proximity.

“Pick one,” Lincoln hisses in my ears as a salian fills the stage— a mix of mermaid and siren that has a particularly cruel stage. It is almost a plea, and my heart breaks to do this to him.

“Not the right one,” I mumble to him. The salian’s eyes shift to mine before a cunning smile stretches across her lips. She soon goes too, like the others, and there are two more categories left according to Vasile.

The stage empties. The room grows still, and a moment later, my entire body stiffens. 

One moment, I am fine, and then the next, it is as if my body is turned off. I am a prisoner in it, unable to do a thing other than look on as the stage opens once more.

I know before the steel bars of the cage rise that this is it.

I feel it in my veins, the knowing and that warm current that had woken me in the first place, promising things I had never dared to dream of. 

Four cages rise from the stage, each holding a being from the other, but I take no note of the other three as my gaze pins itself to the one closest to me.

I have never known another so handsome. 

And he is an elf. A handsome, gorgeous, awe-inspiring elf that quite literally takes the air from my lungs as I stare at him.

He stands tall, with fixed shoulders and daisy-white skin that glows brightly beneath the stage lights. His long golden hair caresses his upper body, breached only by the pointed tips of his ears that stand out like the rest of him.

He is a vision. 

His eyes match his hair, and as they dart viciously over the speechless crowd, already teeming with hate that somehow grows, he bares his sharpened teeth at us all.

“Him,” I whisper, and somehow, he hears me.

There is noise all around us, but while it is muffled to my ringing ears, somehow, he cuts through it all and hears me. He places his gaze onto me, gracing mine, and something in me unlocks. 

Whatever it is that had been cast upon me frees itself as he looks at me. It is no longer a dream or a feeling, but a person. A person who compels me with just his stare.

Those golden eyes widen a touch as he takes me in and a shudder runs down my spine. 

I breathe in and do not struggle this time, as if his attention has granted me permission.

Yes. It is him.

He, who’d woken me. He, who’d made me feel whole for the briefest of moments. He, who already owns me.

—————————–

AHREJK;AGNEIP3’5QEGJOISRTNZGHERAI53GNTRTOSGJIRWJTGKLDAFERPOJFGTRIT4MQEGOIFSDMVSERZG9MEFAG AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

I’M FUCKING LOSING IT PEOPLE!! I AM LOSING IT!!!!!!!!!

Thoughts??????????

Thoughts on Malcolm FINALLY getting out and seeing Aias??!? Thoughts on the Malcolm and Lincoln reunion from his POV?!?!?! THoughts on it all!?!?

These two chapters were the easiest to write so far and I think that’s because I know this story and them so well, its so easy to put it altogether. Plus, obviously, we know the events from Master, but not from Malcolm’s POV, plus all of Aias’ secrets!

I’m so excited to uncover them all and see what life was like between them while Kalem and Lincoln were getting togethernsfrij;gwqmawefl

I’m so fucking excited and I hope you guys are too! Please comment and like if you are

Next chapter is Aias’ POV so don’t worry, you’ll get his first reaction and thoughts too! Not sure when that will be, but I’ll keep you posted!

Until next time,
Byeeeeeeeeee Humanssssssssss