The Night Crawler

The Ink Under Your Fingertips

Lolligo's blood was as blue as Nick's eyes. It spread out on the marble mausoleum floor like slime.

"Nick, Nick," Derek pulled Nick by the sleeve of his shirt. "You need to help me move him. Do you hear me?"

All the blood made Nick squeamish. He stared at it as if he had seen an apparition, staggering backwards in disbelief.

"He looks dead..." Nick whispered, pulling at his ear.

Derek shook his head. "He is not dead, he is still breathing, but he will be dead if you don't get your act together and help me drag him back into the crypt," Derek said and lifted the warlock's head and upper torso. "Golly... he is as heavy as a tombstone," he muttered, groaning.

Nick snapped out of his hemophobia, and leaned over the warlock, pushing all the tentacles together and wrapping his hands around them.

"That he is... and he smells... putrid," Nick said, holding in the vomit.

Derek chuckled as they slid Lolligo across the marble and out of Shawn Grimwood's tomb. "It's his blood. All the warlocks smell this way. They spell their own blood to prevent the others from using it in their rituals. Warlock blood is a powerful source of magic even after they are dead."

"He should have spelled it to smell better...Yuck..." Nick said, turning his head away from Lolligo, who left a trail of blood behind him.

The lanterns in the room with Rebecca's coffin flickered as Derek and Nick pulled Lolligo through the threshold between the two spaces and laid him next to the fireplace. A steady fire burned within, and the shadows from the flaming wood danced across his silver mask.

Nick lifted his head and glanced at Rebecca. The butterfly still quivered inside her hands. Nick thought he saw her rise, buckeye hair falling to her shoulders down a snow-white gown. Her cheeks blushed with the color of amber. Nick never thought he could get used to seeing her this way. His heart still pumped fast every time his eyes leveled with her body.

How did we get here, Rebecca?

While Nick was watching Rebecca, Derek pulled off the strips of fabric from the warlock's tunic and began to wrap them tightly around the bleeding wounds on his tentacles, shoulders, and head. The blue still made its way through the wraps but slower.

Nick perched close to Derek.

"What now?" he asked and shivered, feeling the hot air from the burning fire on his skin.

The wind rattled the tree leaves, sending them sailing to the ground. The night felt cold because of the windows the Civil War zombies had broken, and Nick felt its presence in his bones, the same way he felt the ache from missing her.

"He needs rest," Derek said after a moment of quiet that fell between them. He kept his head low, eyes focused on the warlock. He was thinking. "We have to purify his blood and this entire place from the black magic to give him any chance at living. He is our only way to find out where Rebecca is."

Nick stared Derek dead in the eye. "How do you imagine we do that?"

He was truly horrified at the idea. His stomach dropped, and the waves of nausea crept into his throat.

"We can feed him human blood," Derek suddenly suggested, his eyes flickering to Nick's.

All blood drained from Nick's face. Derek then burst out laughing.

"Oh my... you really do take this blood thing serious," Derek said, putting his hand on Nick's shoulder, who flinched at his touch and moved away.

Nick felt a flash of irritation and the vein in his forehead pulsated.