Chapter 112 A Nightmare Awakened (2/2)

The blade that Ewan held had indeed bypassed Jeremiah, but rather than meeting empty air, it had instead met with flesh as Aaron had lept forward to help his Captain.

Aaron met Rassa's red gaze, and Rassa was thrown. It was the same gaze, the same haunting, questioning gaze that he'd dreamed of for over a month. The image of his father, or all his friends and family pinned to the cave walls flashed in his minds eye, and Rassa's red gaze faded instantly, the bloodlust replaced by pure fear.

He paused, staring at Aaron disbelievingly. His fault. It was his fault. If he hadn't interferred then...

Rassa dropped his sword with a clang, looking up at Jeremiah who was moving to catch Aaron as the boy dropped. Ewan's sword was pulled back and Aaron flinched at the pain. Ewan withdrew, and Rassa's back was exposed as Ewan prepared to deal another blow.

Rassa instincts at the impending danger kicked in, and he spun, catching the blade then placing a hand on Ewan's chest as he pushed. His speed kicked in, and Ewan's back met with than of an alley wall shrouded in shadow.

Rassa's brown-eyed gaze met Ewan's. Ewan's triumphant grin failed as he realised he couldn't move under Rassa's grip.

”Wha-What are you?” asked Ewan's.

”Shall I jog your memory?” asked Rassa. But he could no longer hear the symphony of blood as he leaned forward and sunk his fangs into Ewan's neck. He no longer revelled in the sound of death and flowing blood. He just drank. Drank until Ewan had long gone pale and his heart had stopped beating, then he licked the wound and stepped back to watch Ewan fall like a rag doll to the ground, the sword clanging on the stone street.

Rassa's fangs retracted, and he wiped his mouth.

Disgusting. It was the dirtiest blood he'd ever tasted. But who cared when he himself was so much worse?

***

Phil had disappeared in an instant, Ewan with him, and Jeremiah was left to catch Aaron as he fell. The wound in his abdonmen was severe, but Jeremiah worked quickly to staunch the bleeding.

”C-Captain?” asked Aaron.

”Quiet, you'll be fine, just keep breathing through it, don't fall asleep,” Jeremiah instructed.

Aaron gulped and closed his eyes tight before he opened them again.

”It-it hurts,” Aaron said.

”I know it does, now quiet, it'll hurt more when you talk,” Jeremiah insisted. He looked up at Tank and a couple of the others, ”Run ahead, get a physician ready”.

”Captain-”

”Now!” snapped Jeremiah. He didn't care that they all thought Aaron didn't have a chance. He'd be doing the boy a disservice if he gave up so easily.

It wasn't until hours later when the cart was safely unloaded into a warehouse and Aaron was being treated in his critical state that Jeremiah finally had time to think about what had happened that evening. About the boy who was not a Shadow Magician, but had moved so quickly that Jeremiah was sure it was some time of instaneous movement ability rather than pure luck. He'd been informed that Ewan was dead. He'd been found two streets over from where the fight took place, drained of blood but no visible wound in sight.

Jeremiah had no idea why that kid had interfered, but one thing was sure, he did owe the boy his life, even if his move had caused Aaron to meet a yet to be determined fate.