Love Bites

Chapter 6: The Devil's Mask

Sorry about the delay, back to weekly updates. Thank you for your patience :)

I have to hide this somewhere. I need to see all of it. I need to see how much danger I'm actually in.

He places every other book where it had been before he'd moved them, and checks from every angle to be sure that the hole he'd found wasn't visible. Through a strained, dry throat, he exhales with relief.

"Fuck." He whispers to himself. There's no time right now to think about everything, his only chance at getting out of all of this was to make it seem like everything was normal.

He can do that, right? He can act like his normal, cocky self, as if he hadn't just found George's vampire-murdering plans for him later.

Yeah. This is fine.

The question now is, where does he put the book? He can't just put it back where it was, there was no way he was going to sneak in while George was sleeping and risk being caught. And maybe killed.

Maybe in the living room...under the rug? Too obvious. Under the couch? Too visible. Between the cushions? That would probably make the most sense, that's where he'd been sleeping, anyways. It'd be the easiest to access when he got a chance to look again.

Taking another deep breath, he walks into the hall with the book held out of sight behind his back, with the book of maps in his other hand to his side.

"There you are!" Sapnap groans with the raise of his arms. "I swear, you're like an old man or something."

"Yeah," Dream winces at the pathetic croak still evident in his voice, and clears his throat. "Takes one to know one."

Sapnap thankfully takes the playful jab like all the others, and turns back to nudge George some more, probably just to annoy him. Dream takes the chance to quickly step over to the couch, and shoves the journal deep into the space between the cushions, and makes sure it disappears completely behind the upholstery before shuffling back to join the two humans.

The disturbing contents of the book never leave his mind as they work away at their maps. He tries to make sense of what he'd read. So George kills vampires?

He can only imagine George stabbing a silver blade into his neck, then dragging his dead body through the woods and off a cliff. The idea makes him feel sick, nausea swirling around uncomfortably in his stomach like paint in water.

He zones out, standing next to and towering over a seated George.

"You okay?"
"Huh-? Oh, yeah." Dream stuttered. "I'm fine."

George flashes him a small smile before turning back to the ink and paper. "If you say so."

He swallows, uncomfortable. His brain buzzes with negative thoughts.

It's too much. He's starving, the hollowing of his stomach begging for food to the point he fears it may be caving in on itself. The thought of his own kind causing George this amount of pain, the thought of George spending hours setting up traps to capture vampires and brutally murder them. It's all too much.

He's worried for himself. He's worried about George.

"I'll be back." He says, barely managing a steady voice. They both hum in acknowledgement, allowing him to slip away. He's grateful they don't choose to question him.

He stalks down the hall, pulling open a coat closet by the front door and digging through to find an umbrella. Once he does find one (it's blue, of course), he steps out onto the porch, closing the creaky door behind him as quietly as he can manage. He struggles for a moment to open the umbrella, but eventually he's able to pry it open to provide shade for himself once he steps off the porch.