Creep

Chapter Two: The Vial

With his world spinning, Angus stumbled into his room. His legs wobbled as he directed them to the bed where he collapsed face first and fully clothed. Angus had no idea who had 'won' the drinking contest, but he had the feeling it was the taking part that mattered most. Snores erupted from his prone form almost instantly. Sleep had its way within moments, leaving him oblivious to the changes happening around him. Not that he really needed sleep to make him oblivious, the intoxication was doing more than enough. He hadn't even noticed that his precious vial had returned. It now stood on the table next to his bed emitting a slight glow.

A mist descended upon the room, covering all it could, muting colours and hiding details. Angus continued to sleep deeply, inhaling the mist. The strange substance travelled inside him, burying itself deep in his lungs and appearing in his dreams like a phantom.

Groaning as he slept, Angus dreamed visions of violence. The scenes in his subconscious felt vivid and real. Decapitations and cannibalism featured in abundance. Blood splattered against his skin, and he could feel its warmth. In fact, he reveled in it. He woke with a start, his member straining against his breeches. Shame filled him. Had he enjoyed the dream that much?

But the memory of the dream was already starting to fade.

Ignoring the dribble linking his face to the pillow, Angus got up. The world continued to spin.

"Ugh," he said as he waited for it to slow. He stood next to the bed. Morning hadn't arrived properly yet; everything was still dark and the birds hadn't even started their dawn chorus. Angus wondered what he was doing. "Need sleep," he muttered, climbing back into the bed, this time managing to put the blanket over him.

"Drink me..." a voice said. Angus didn't recognise it, but it sounded close. Not only that but - despite the hiss that hid in its words - he felt like he could trust it. He knew he could trust it, just like he knew that everyone would want his vial if he told them about it.

The vial.

For the second time, his eyes snapped open. His gaze was drawn to the bedside table. He knew it would be there even before he saw it. The vial glowed just like the night he had first seen it. The night when he'd known he had to have it.

It wasn't lost. Relief covered him, cocooning him like a blanket or one of his mother's embraces. Everything was going to be alright; he was rich beyond his imagination and the vial was safe. But who had put it on the table? Angus decided it didn't matter. Happy now that he'd been reunited with the object, Angus settled back down to sleep.

"Drink me..." the voice repeated as Angus drifted off.

*****

Once the sun rose, the dreams and thoughts from the night before had all but disappeared. The only thing that remained was Angus's connection to the vial. But it was a connection that felt so natural and normal, that he didn't give it a second thought. He just pocketed the vial and went to join his parents for breakfast.

"Morning, dear," his mother said as he entered the kitchen. A strong woman, Mildred Rutland had always worked to earn her keep. Not only did she work as a cook in the castle kitchens, but she also made sure her family was well-fed. She put a bowl on the table and Angus took a seat opposite his father. During the simple meal of porridge, it became clear that normal life had returned with gusto. It seemed a hero's welcome only lasted for one night. Now Angus was to return to his chores and almost revert back to the boy he had once been, unless he was considering joining the Queen's Guard full time, of course. He thought about telling his parents about his newfound wealth, but he had the feeling they wouldn't approve of how he got it. Despite living in The Hole, the Rutlands were simple, honest folk. Such folk did not loot the houses of those under attack. Angus would have to broach this subject with great care.