Carfax, Part 8: Seeker

The mesmerising tune rang out from the piano as the pale devil continued to dance his fingers across the piano keys. The serene, harmonic song enthralled the teens, and that scared Mary. Every action Ruthven took drew them further into him, every word he said they believed. He couldn't be trusted, not if he had that kind of power over them. The tune finished lightly, allowing itself to linger in their minds.
“Ruthven,” Priscilla said, “that was amazing. Our clan is going to be the best ever.”
“That it will.” Ruthven grinned.
“Yeah.” Mary mumbled. “I hope it goes well for you, and thanks for the gifts, but I don't think I can be a part of this.”
Priscilla became confused. “Huh?”
“I'll see you guys around.” Mary put down the dress and began to leave.
“Wait, Mary!” Priscilla called and ran after her friend, but Mary didn't stop. “Wait.” Priscilla grabbed ahold of Mary and span her around. “Where are you going?”
“Home.”
“Why?”
“Pri, I can't be apart of this. This place, the idea, Ruthven. It's not right. And what about the Order, and the Pack? They're not just going to stand by and let you do this. I've already told you they're like street gangs.”
“I know Mary, we were both members of the Order, which is why I need you. When the shit hits the fan and the fighting starts I'm going to need you by my side.”
“The fighting?” Mary turned cold. “I'm not going back to that.”
“Wait, no that's not wha…”
“I stopped being like that for a reason and I'm not going back to it for anyone, not even for you!” Fire lit up in Mary’s eyes. “Get off me!” Mary pulled away from Priscilla.
“Wait, Mary that's not what I meant.” But Mary ignored her, bursting through the door and slamming it behind her. “I'm such an idiot.”

Misery and anger hung over Mary like the grey clouds, perpetual and unyielding. In her anger at Priscilla and Ruthven she had almost forgotten that day was the day. She picked up some hyacinths at a florist and took them with her to the cemetery. There the clouds were at their darkest and most somber. Mary passed by broken and bramble covered gravestones and markers, the soft hum of crying perpetuating the air as funerals and burials proceeded.
In a town like Umbranfield, there was usually a funeral taking place nearly everyday. It was a surprise that anyone even lived in the city, but something drew them in and forced them to stay even when they fought and scrambled to leave. The twisted city had a dark charm to it.
Mary continued to wander among the graves with one in mind. She had already memorised the shortest route. When she found the grave she knelt down and placed the flowers gently in front of the grave stone and cleaned away the now dead flowers from last month before getting back up.
“I'm sorry.” She whispered to the grave again and closed her eyes, hoping for an answer as her memories skulked within her.
“Did you know them well?” A voice asked from behind her.
Her heart stopped for a moment and Mary jumped away from the voice, clutching her chest. It was Ruthven.
“When the bloody hell did you get here?” She asked after catching her breath.
“Just now.” Ruthven kneeled down and inspected the grave stone. ‘Suchon Asif, 2025-2039, lost to street violence but forever kept in our hearts.’
“So, did you know them well?” Ruthven asked again.
“No, not really.” Mary replied plainly.
“Oh?”
“It's a long story.”
“I don't know if you've noticed,” Ruthven said as he stood up, “but I'm not exactly short on time, though I suspect it's less a matter of it being a long story and more you not wanting to tell it. I won't make you tell me.” Ruthven smiled at the grave. “I do hope they have found peace.”
There was something strangely genuine about the way he said that, but for Mary, you could never know what the manipulative monster was thinking. “Why are you here?”
“To convince you to come back, of course. Priscilla would have come herself but I thought it best that I speak to you instead.”
“I'm sorry, but I'm not going back, I…”
“Don't trust me?” Ruthven interrupted.
“No, I… er.”
“Don't worry about it. It's a perfectly understandable response. Besides, I wouldn't trust me either.” Ruthven smiled.
“I just don't know why you're helping Priscilla. Why you would be putting in all this effort for no reward. You can't be.
“I would be lying to you if I said I didn't have my own reasons for helping Priscilla.”
“So tell me what they are.”
Ruthven smiled coyly. “I'm afraid I can't tell you, at least, not at the moment.”
Mary didn't hide her disappointment, but at the same time it wasn't unexpected. “Well, it's not just you I'm worried. The rest of the vampires around the world, they don't fight like we do in Umbranfield. Before the Order took control there were constant territory disputes. And it's not just the Order, it's the Pack.”
“The Pack?” Ruthven asked.
“The Pack are werewolf wannabes. Savages that hang around the abandoned Bloodlocke Brewery. I don't know what it is but they must have split personalities. Every full moon they start howling like flipping maniacs and attacking people. The Order were the only ones willing to beat those mutts into submission every full moon. Some even think they're cannibals.
“They are who I'm worried about. The Order won't kill us, it's not they're way. But they will harass us and attack anyone stupid enough to join us. The Pack will probably see us as easy prey. I just don't want to be they're when it all kicks off. I don't want to fight.”
Ruthven had been listening carefully to Mary, to the words she spoke and the somber, regretful tone. “Priscilla doesn't want you to fight.”
Mary looked up at him with bewilderment.
“She told me that you used to fight for the Order. You weren't the strongest, or the fastest, but you were the most ferocious, but then you stopped. You didn't want to be ‘Bloody Mary’ anymore. She didn't say why. She doesn't need to.
“She doesn't want you to do that. She wants your support. To be there to stand at her side and help keep things together when it goes south.”
“She… just wants me there?” Mary asked.
“Yes. You are her best friend after all.” A guilty lump grew in Mary’s chest as Ruthven said that. “My motives maybe secret, but just know that I will do my utmost not to let any harm come to Priscilla, you, or your friends.”
“You promise that?”
“I promise.” He smiled. Crossing his un-beating heart.
Mary smiled slightly. “Y’know, for some reason I actually trust you now. Maybe it's because I know you do have an ulterior motive, strange huh?”
“Just a little.”
“Tell Priscilla I'll be back soon. I just need some time alone here.”
“I understand.” Ruthven turned around to leave. “Seeker of Forgiveness.” He said after just a few steps.
“What?”
“That's what Suchon’s name means. Though I suppose that title applies more to you than him. I do hope you find that forgiveness, Mary. If not from him, then from yourself.”
And with a confused blink of her eye, Ruthven was gone.
Mary looked back at the grave, her past sins crawling up her spine. “How?”

Priscilla paced the room worriedly. “Are you sure she's coming back?”
“Yes, Priscilla she just needs some time to herself.” Ruthven replied as he lounged on one of the sofas while Clar showed him how a phone worked. “Just sit down and relax.”
“She told me she'd stopped visiting the grave.” Priscilla continued to pace. “She said it didn't bother her any more.”
Chris got up and went over to Priscilla and held her by her shoulders to stop her pacing and get her scattered attention. “Pri, it's going to be alright,” the red headed boy reassured her. “When has Mary ever abandoned you?”
“Never, but…”
“But nothing. Even if you hadn't convinced her to come here today she would have burst through the door behind us as soon as we arrived because she cares about you. She just needs some time to get her thoughts together.”
Priscilla sighed. “You're right, Chris. I just worry y’know. I don't know what I would do without her.”
“Maybe a drink will calm you down.” Chris suggested.
“Are you sure? You know what happened last time.” Priscilla worried, despite the sudden gnawing feeling in the back of her head.
“I'll be fine.” Chris took out his switchblade and sliced the palm of his hand with it. He didn't even wince as he added a new scar to his palm. Blood seeped out and he offered his hand to Priscilla. The gnawing came to the forefront of her mind and she fell upon the crimson delight, snatching his hand and lapping at Chris’s blood.
“So Chris feeds all of you?” Ruthven asked Clar as he watched the spectacle with interest.
“Yeah. He's our donor. He gives his blood and life force to us willingly. Technically, his an equal to us, but donors are expected to do what they're vampire tells them.” Clar went on to explain modern vampirism to the old bloodsucker. Clar, like the others, was fully aware of what Ruthven was. None of them seem to mind anymore.
At this point Priscilla had finished licking at the blood and was now sucking it out of Chris’s wound. The boy had begun to grimace at the pain as he began to feel dizzy. “That's enough.” Chris said weakly. The dizziness was getting worse. “That's enough!” He yanked his arm away from Priscilla. The vampire girl breathed heavily as she caught her breathe after that feast. “Chris, I'm so sorry. I told you I shouldn't have.”
“It's fine.” Chris said, clutching his hand. He went over to Clar, who had already pulled her first aid kit from her bag and began to wrap Chris’s cut. Ruthven approached Priscilla as she wiped the blood from her face and handed her a handkerchief to help, which she thanked him for.
“I had no idea you were so bloodthirsty.” He grinned.
“Well, nothing beats fresh.” She smiled with embarrassment. “I just wish I didn't get so carried away every time.” Priscilla looked up at Ruthven. His smile grew somewhat more… sinister with that information. Ruthven suddenly turned his head to the door as though expecting something. A moment later the door creaked open.
“Mary!” Priscilla called in excitement but was disappointed to see a man with a beard enter.
“Oh, I thought this place was abandoned.” He said as he entered without concern. Priscilla recognised him. He was one of those gypsies that lived outside of the city. The leader’s son if she remembered correctly.
“I came into ownership recently.” She informed him. “You're one of those gypsies right?”
“Yeah, I'm Alexander.” He replied as he adjusted his coat, a sudden chill rushing through him as he noticed the pale man’s cold eyes upon him.
“I'm Priscilla.” She extended her hand, and smiled a fanged smile. Alexander took her hand and shook. “Just wondering, if you thought this place was abandoned, then why are you here?”
“Well, my father used to talk about this place. Said our ancestors helped build it.” Alexander said as he looked about. As he did he noticed a large linear line running up the steps, as though they were meant to open. “Since he passed yesterday I've been interested in our history.” He noticed an intense sense of fascination and repulsion in the pale man, just as the woman in blue had described.
“I'm sorry to hear you lost him.” Priscilla gave her condolences. “I'm afraid the church has changed a bit since we arrived.
“I can see that.” Alexander smiled uncomfortable, the cold becoming freezing. “I'll get going now, I just wanted to stop by while on some errands.”
The door opened and Mary came in. Alexander stepped past her and left quickly. “Who was that?” Mary asked.
“Just one of those gypsies.” Priscilla told her. It was now that she noticed the intense glare on Ruthven’s face, staring at the door as though he was still watching the gypsy. “You okay?” She asked him.
“Hmm? Oh, yes.” He snapped out of his trance and the grin returned to his face. “I simply found his manner quite disagreeable.”
“Right. Well, anyway, it's good to see you back Mary!” Priscilla smiled at her friend. “Does this mean you'll stay?”
“Yes, I'm staying. Ruthven said you don't want me to fight.” Mary replied with her own smile.
“I don't. Oh, this is so great.” Priscilla embraced her friend. “I knew you'd come through for me.”
“Yeah, you need someone to keep you in line and calm when things go to hell. So, what's the name of our clan?” Mary asked.
Priscilla’s mind went blank. “Name?”