Chapter Text
The full moon drifted in the inky black sky, bathing the area below with beams of shining light. The faint glow illuminated each of the graves covering the cemetery, outlining each tombstone with a cool shine. The frosted grass looked silver under the light, like an array of glittering scales.
The pine trees which surrounded the area swayed gently, their leaves quietly brushing against one another. Their towering forms covered everything in a swath of darkness, with the black tops starkly outlined against the dim haze of the night sky.
The air was tinted with frost as the first few months of winter wrapped its frigid claws over the world. It smothered everything with a sharp chill, fragile yet biting.
Paul sat slouched against the seat that overlooked the cemetery. Shadows cloaked everything, dancing between the graves and drifting amidst the thick tree line. The chilling night air was crisp and brought a bitter sting as it pressed against him. Even with his thick jacket, it managed to pierce into his bones with ease.
To his side sat Jim, silently drinking in the atmosphere. A cigarette was perched in his fingers, which he pulled to his lips to take a slow drag. The end ignited with tiny embers, lighting his face up with a warm glow against the dark. He pulled it away and breathed out the smoke, letting it coil and drift through the night air. The scent was bitter and toasty, lingering around them.
The smoke quickly dissipated away, getting lost in the darkness. The shadows clung to the space, wreathing around the edges of their vision. Even against the light of the full moon, the thick blackness cloaked everything until the area was a disorientating pool of murkiness. The graves reflected the dim shine of the moonlight against their stone edges, but apart from the grey haze in the night sky, everything was swathed in shadow.
Paul pulled his arms closer against his jacket as a small shiver tremored through his body. He balled his hands together, rubbing his stiff fingers against one another in a futile attempt at gaining any warmth. The glacial air pressed itself against him like shards of glass; sharp and brittle.
Others usually found it strange to be hanging out in a cemetery in the middle of the night, but for Paul and Jim it felt like a sanctuary. Stepping into the isolated district was like passing through a portal, travelling to another realm where time didn’t matter and the problems of life were left outside. It was easy to forget about everything there, with only the sound of your thoughts breaking the everlasting silence. The swirling darkness felt protective as it blanketed them, shrouding the land in a mysterious yet comforting essence.
Even the chilling night air was a solace, despite its biting demeanor. It only strengthened the seclusion, as though there was nobody else in the world but them.
For Paul and Jim, this was their place; alone with the comfort of each other, where nobody could intervene. They spent the best moments here, talking about whatever crossed their minds. Sometimes it was deep, sometimes it was just for fun, but the topic never mattered because they were free. Amidst the shadows and the moonlight, they were the only ones in the world.
Paul glanced up at the sky, watching as the bright full moon glimmered against the dark heavens. Tiny stars flickered throughout the vast ink like an artist had flung specks of white across their empty canvas. Not a cloud drifted in the sky, and the lack of any artificial lighting in the cemetery only made the stars shine brighter. Paul drifted his gaze between each little galaxy, pretending to connect them in their constellations even though he could never remember which ones they were.
He sighed, breath billowing in a thick puff against the frigid air. The night sky’s beauty was unmatched with the endless stars and overpowering glow of the moon.
Jim turned to look at him, following his gaze towards the ether.
“It’s a nice night, huh?” His voice broke the silence for the first time. Apart from the gentle rustle of the leaves and the distant caw of a bird, the evening had been hushed.
Paul nodded, not breaking his mesmerised look at the sky. At his side, Jim shuffled his boots against the frozen earth and shifted deeper into the seat as a faint frosted breeze gently brushed past. He took another drag from his cigarette before passing it to Paul. He took it gratefully and breathed in the bitter flavour, letting its warm smoke thaw his lungs before breathing it out into the cold night air. He handed it back to Jim.
“It’s crazy to think they’re so far away,” He began quietly. “The stars, I mean.”
Jim looked up into the inky space. “Yeah. They shine so brightly.”
The two lapsed on into another silence. Not one of discomfort or embarrassment, but more because they didn’t want to disrupt the peace of the night anymore than they had to. The silence felt like the drifting shadows, filling the space with a thick nothingness.
“You know that some stars are so far away, their actual light hasn’t even reached us yet?” Paul murmured.
Jim turned to look at him, intrigue tugging at his tone. “What do you mean?”
“Well, some of them are so distant that their light takes years to even reach us. Lots of them have actually died already, but we keep seeing their light because it’s still travelling to our own planet.”
Paul sighed, voice dropping in a whimsical, melancholic tone.
“We’re underneath a sky of ghosts.”
Jim hummed thoughtfully, looking back up at the inky cluster of little galaxies. He idly took another drag from his cigarette, which was starting to burn out. His eyes were clouded in thought at those words.
They waited quietly in the dark. The soft fragrance of pine mixed with the heavy scent of tobacco, and the chilled air tasted metallic as they breathed it in. The frigidness stung Paul’s nose and made his skin feel like it was numbly burning. The air was still, almost frozen in the silence which wrapped around them, until Jim finally spoke again.
“Me and some of the other guys were thinking of going camping soon. You think you’d wanna come with us?” His question was a jump from the previous discussion, but it didn’t matter. Everything was open on nights like these.
“Sure. Who else was thinking of coming?” He turned to look at Jim.
“So far, Sid, Corey and Chris. And you and me.”
Paul hummed in agreement. “When were you gonna go?”
“Probably in two weeks time. From Friday afternoon to Sunday morning.”
Paul settled back against the wooden back of the seat. “Easy. Although, I don’t own much camping gear.”
Jim chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ve all got plenty to go around. Just bring some beers and food and we’ll all be set,” He paused for a second, eyes drifting back to the night sky. “Hopefully it will be as clear as tonight is. I didn’t quite realise how… interesting the stars are.”
Paul nodded, letting the filling silence open up between them once again. The cigarette was starting to burn dangerously close to Jim’s fingers, so he let it drop to the frozen ground and snuffed out the embers with the base of his boot.
As soon as the warm glow of the cinders had been extinguished, the shadows seemed to grow denser. They swirled closer, enclosing around the pair in a thick gloom. It felt heavier, almost claustrophobic. A newborn menace seemed to twist within their once comforting darkness.
A frigid breeze blew past them, feeling like an icy blade which cut straight through their jackets and imbed itself deep in their bones. Paul felt a shiver run through his spine and tucked his hands against his arm pits, bowing his head down to try and preserve as much warmth as he could. The biting chill stung his eyes and numbed his skin. Jim shivered beside him and nudged closer to Paul.
A sinking feeling of foreboding tugged at Paul’s stomach, which he tried to suppress. The air was completely silent. Deafeningly.
The tree’s branches were still and soundless, despite the sudden breeze. There were no birds calling in the distance. Even the gale remained silent as it blew past. The quiet was splitting as his ears strained for any sound at all.
Apprehension lingered at the back of his mind. Something had… changed. The previous security and solace of the cemetery had dispersed, overthrown by a heavy unease. A thick anxiety started to brew in his chest, with flickers of fear.
Jim could tell something was wrong too. His body was tense, eyes flickering around the shadowy proximity in weary observation.
Abruptly, a rustle in the tree line pierced through the silent air.
The two flinched in start, heads darting to face the direction of where the noise had come from. Just ahead of them, it seemed. Waiting in the shadows amongst the pines.
“Shit,” Jim cursed quietly. “That’s probably the groundskeeper. He’s gonna kick our asses out at this time of night.”
But there was something in his voice - something in the air - which promised worse.
The rustling in the darkness started again, quieter this time, though more distinct. It sounded like footsteps crunching against the dead leaves that littered the frozen ground. Slowly, two figures stepped out from the shadows and emerged into the moonlight.
Paul tensed as they silently stalked into view. The silver light outlined their thin, masculine bodies, cloaked in a variety of dark garments. They were dressed formally, but their outfits seemed incredibly outdated, designed for a time long past.
The taller of the two wore a fine suit in a navy so dark it would undoubtedly pass as black in the shadowy environment. He wore tight dress pants in the same colour with rows of small silver chains hanging from the belt loops on either side of his hips. The shirt beneath his blazer was a crisp white, and a lacey red frill tied around the collar. It made the whole outfit look vintage, like something out of the Victorian age. Several chained necklaces were wound around his neck.
The man's hair was peculiar. It was parted to the side with one half dropping in front of the right side of his face while the other was slicked away. The back was teased up into frizzy spikes, while the rest of his inky black hair fell smoothly around his shoulders and outlined the edges of his face.
The other man was dressed similarly, mirroring the same vintage style. He wore a pale white buttoned shirt and close-fitting black pants that accentuated his incredibly thin frame. Around his neck was a matching red frill, though smaller and with less ruffles than his partner. A brilliant black cloak was draped across his shoulders and fell in velvety drapes around all of his form, obscuring most of his body from the neck down. It was a black so dark that it seemed to morph into the shadows surrounding him.
His hair was jet-black and fell below his shoulders. It was perfectly sleek, not a single strand out of place apart from the small lock which dipped across his face. It shimmered soft silver in the gentle light of the moon.
Paul froze as he watched the strangers slowly approach them, taking in their unusual appearance. He couldn’t help shake the feeling that they were in the wrong time period, that their outdated, gothic attire should belong in a historical painting rather than on these two young-looking men. As his eyes drifted over them, he couldn’t suppress the growing dysphoria that began to brew.
Yet, as the strangers emerged even more into the light of the moon and more of their features were revealed, their appearances became even more abnormal. Their skin was ghostly pale, striking out in direct contrast to their dark attire. It made them look malnourished, but their perfect bodies contradicted any signs of this. Paul had never seen someone so pallid; not anybody alive, at least. It was like looking into a living corpse.
Dark makeup surrounded their eyes in large gothic silhouettes, and the undersides of their eyes were stained in a bruise-like purple. With the bone-white shade of their skin, it made their faces look skeletal.
Their eyes were narrow and keen. Their irises were a solid, empty black, like staring into a solar eclipse. They didn’t break eye-contact or even blink as they stalked closer to Paul and Jim.
The air seemed to drop another degree, and Paul suppressed a shiver beneath his thick woolen jacket. Despite the striking chill, the two figures didn’t seem affected in the slightest, showing no reaction to the frigid atmosphere.
The tall one took a step forward, his eyes slitting malignantly and the corner of his mouth tilting up into a mocking smile. His tall, leather dress shoes didn’t make a noise as they silently pressed into the gravel. Paul glanced down and noticed the sheathed knife strapped against the inner side of his calf. The blood dropped from his face as he registered the reality of the danger which was stalking towards him.
Oh, shit-
The stranger's dark eyes lit in an enthralled sadism as he saw the terror wipe through his target. His obsidian pupils shone in a vicious hunger.
“You were right to check here, Joey,” He spoke, his voice a low, haunting growl. “This will be an easy kill.”
Then, he pulled back his lips in a mocking grin to reveal two sharp fangs protruding against his teeth.
Paul felt a shudder of panic jolt through his body while his heart began to beat rapidly. Jim flinched back, the fear evident on him too, but managed to reach into his jacket and draw a small pocket knife out. He wrapped a protective arm around Paul’s chest and held the little knife out in front of them, flicking the blade out with a subtle click.
But his terror was obvious as his hand shook violently, the knife trembling between his tight grasp.
“Stay back!” Jim choked out, but his voice quivered with fear even as he pulled together his fraying scraps of courage.
The stranger chuckled deeply, amused at the little act before him. The glimmer of the moon reflected against his elongated fangs as he readied himself into an offensive stance. It looked as though he were going to pounce, like an animal about to make the killing move on its prey…
Paul stared at the teeth, eyes wide in panic. They had all heard the stories, of course. Everyone in the town had been fed them since they were children. But that was all they were, wasn’t it? They were just stories to scare little kids, weren’t they? Surely there couldn’t possibly be any truth behind their messages.
Yet, the exact monsters they had been taught were only myths now stood directly in front of him, about to make him into their next prey.
Paul couldn’t break his gaze from those teeth. His throat was tight in fear - like barbed wire had been wound around his neck - but he forced the word out in a dry whisper anyways.
“Vampires.”
The vampire in front of him took another step forward, face still drawn back in that evil, haunting smile, eyes still strained in a frenzied thirst, fangs still shining white in the moonlight. Jim cowered back further against Paul, fighting to put as much distance between themselves and this monster as he possibly could, but there was no escape. He still held the shaking pocket knife out before him in a futile attempt at defence.
The vampire hunched his shoulders back and shifted deeper into the predatorial stance. It was coming now. He was going to attack, and murder them both. They would never see their friends or families again. Nobody else knew they were out here tonight. Nobody would even know what happened to them. Their names would float around on missing posters and police radars for a few weeks before everyone gave up hope and they faded into memory. Their loved ones would be distraught, never knowing what had ever truly happened to them, never knowing if they were still out there somewhere, never knowing where they had ever gone…
Paul squeezed his eyes tight, feeling his heart race painfully as he braced himself for the pain, begging for it not to come but knowing there was no avoidance. His breathing quickened and his lungs stung from the frigid air. He pushed himself closer against Jim, knowing it would do nothing, but hoping that it would somehow make it easier if at least they were together.
“Stop.”
A firm voice broke through the air before the pain could come.
Paul stiffened, slightly creaking his eyes open and glancing at the monsters in a confused panic. The shorter one in the cloak - Joey, hadn’t they called him? - had spoken from his place in the background. He hadn’t moved at all since he had stepped into the clearing, and his form was so still now that you could pass it for a sculpture. Paul wasn’t sure if he had imagined the voice in his own delusion of fear.
But the attacking vampire halted. He pulled himself up from his hunting stance and turned his head slightly to acknowledge his partner, though he kept his eyes steadily trained on his prey.
“What? Why?” His voice stung with a mixture of confusion and irritation as he hissed to the other. “They’re sitting ducks- I could’ve killed them by now!”
Joey ignored his ignorant remark and continued to stare at Paul. His dark eyes lingered over the human intently, like he was searching for something. They flickered with a similar thirst, but not nearly as strong as the other’s. Paul froze under the gaze, body quivering in fear and adrenaline.
Joey stayed carefully still as he examined the human from a far. Paul noticed that his gaze was only directed at him, with no interest in Jim. The vampire finally made some kind of movement as his eyes narrowed in concentration.
“There’s something…” His voice was a murmur, barely audible from across the clearing.
The attacking vampire growled in fury and turned fully back to the humans. His mouth was twisted into an angered snarl as he slid fluidly back into the pounce-like stance. A low hiss was growling in the back of his throat, and his eyes burned with hostile thirst. He flexed his shoulders back, preparing to spring forward and finally land the killing blow when-
“Wednesday, enough.”
The voice held a tone of authority so strong that it seemed to make even the air fall still. It wasn’t loud or spiteful - rather calm, actually - but contained such stern power that there would be no mistake in disobeying the order.
Wednesday paused once again, visibly fighting the urge to follow his instincts and attack or to follow his leader's command. He stood motionless for a moment with his thirsty eyes locked on his prey, before suddenly whirling around with an agitated growl. He stormed back to his partner, the irritation festering off him in palpable waves as he gave up on his prey. The chains around his belt quietly clicked together as he walked back to stand beside his partner with an annoyed grunt.
Joey didn’t react. He kept his obsidian eyes locked on Paul, still in that searching gaze.
“We’ll find someplace else to hunt,” He spoke to Wednesday, lips barely parting from their thin line.
Wednesday murmured something indistinguishable in an agitated tone, which was too quiet to make out.
Silently, the two vampires fluidly walked backwards into the trees, the shadows swallowing them eagerly. Joey kept his gaze fixed on Paul, his eclipsing eyes never breaking their stare until they were lost in the darkness. Even then, he could still feel their chilling look slicing into him.
Paul and Jim sat in frozen horror. The cemetery was silent again, as though nothing had ever been there. They both breathed shallowly, trying to compensate for the rapid beatings of their hearts. They were still holding tightly onto one another, muscles fixed in their fearing roots. Neither spoke or even moved, eyes still locked on the patch of shadows where the two monsters had disappeared into.
A moment of terror-filled silence passed between them, before Jim jumped to his feet. He dropped the pocket knife and firmly pulled onto Paul’s jacket, dragging him up from the seat. Paul stumbled up but didn’t try to fight. He grabbed tightly onto Jim’s arm as they began to run through the cemetery.
The shadows twisted and turned around them, each spot of darkness promising a new danger. Fear coursed through their bodies, the adrenaline pushing them on faster and faster. The cemetery felt like a labyrinth as they darted through the endless rows of graves. Every second felt scarier than the last.
Finally, the entrance archway came into view. The two collectively deflated with relief and pushed on faster, sprinting out of the graveyard and back into safety. They didn’t slow down until they were three streets away, where the town grew denser and more urban. Jim stumbled to a stop and paused on the footpath, trying to catch his breath. Paul stopped as well, feeling sweat start to seep into his jacket despite the frigid night air.
They waited for their hearts to slow. Neither spoke a word.
But there was a single question revolving around Paul’s mind like a bullet ricocheting against the walls of his head.
Why didn’t they kill us?