"What are you?" He asks me, breaking the silence. I am quite shocked by this question. Mostly because I don't even know how to answer it.
"Werewolf. I think... And you are a vampire," I state. He nods.
"You don't smell like a werewolf." He lifts his...
"I don't want to run anymore. I want to kill everyone who ever did me wrong," I say with a faraway look in my eyes and a slight smirk, a thousand images of people screaming by my hands running through my head.
"I've been waiting for this," Dom replies smiling deviously as well and rubbing his hands together like a kid excited to open a present.
"Alright, then how should we do it? I doubt we would be more successful the second time around if it's still just you and me," I then ask, but my worries are soon washed away, at the look on Dom's face.
"You know, that's so funny that you ask! It just so happens, that I have some very good friends still living here in Scotland," he replies with a fair bit of sarcasm, leading me to believe that this may have been his plan all along, and he was just waiting for me to take the initiative. I actually appreciate that - it makes it feel like my idea and that I am in control. I slap him on the shoulder teasingly as I walk past him back towards the car.
"I drive!" I yell back at him before swinging the driver-side door open and plopping in. Dom takes a seat beside me just as I turn the keys in the ignition and start to drive off, a whole lot more confident now than I was before.
"So, where are we going?" I ask Dom.
"I think our best bet is going to Wishaw," Dom answers after a small pause. He doesn't sound too eager, which makes me wonder.
"Why Wishaw?" I ask carefully, looking over at Dom to gauge his mood. He sighs and looks over at me, before looking out of his window.
"Now is just as good a time as ever," he starts off in a low voice, more to himself than me. Then he clears his throat and sits up more straight before looking over at me.
"Alright. I never told you about my childhood here in Scotland, right?" he asks, but I know it's rhetorical, so I don't answer, only urge him to go on with a shake of the head.
"I was raised here in Glasgow - though it was a lot smaller when I lived here neigh two hundred years ago. I actually lived on the street named Dunsmuir Street," he continues, and I look over at him with raised eyebrows.
"Like Dunsmuir city?" I ask him, and he nods.
"Call me sentimental if you will. Anyway, when I was about fourteen, my family and I heard word that a group of Wendigos had terrorized Greenock - I city not too far away from here - so in fear that they would come after us next, we fled to Wishaw." He pauses for a time, taking a breath to seemingly steel himself.
"We reached Wishaw and decided to stay as we were told, that a group of vampires were on the hunt after the Wendigos. We had just walked half a day to reach Wishaw and wanted to believe that with the vampires after the Wendigos, we would be safe here for the time being." he looks over at me, and at the sight of my puzzled look, he continues
"Understand that Scots are a superstitious bunch, and even though we feared both, we had no reason the believe that the vampires would hurt us since they rarely did. They only fed on willing people, just like the vampire clan I was part of in the States." He sighs and I feel his apprehension to continue. I decide I won't push it, but still hope that he will finish this tale.
"So, long story short, the Wendigos came to Wishaw and killed everyone except me, and when the vampires came soon after, they turned me against my will, to help fight the Wendigos." This part he rushes through, as I sense he has a lot of unresolved trauma linked to this time of his life.
"I killed the vampires for that, but not without suffering grave injuries myself. That's how I was found by three wandering merchants - the men I came to call brothers, and who are the ones we are looking for now." His tone clears up a bit at the mention of these men. As he doesn't continue for some time, I ask.
"Who are these men?" He looks over at me and smiles with a contemplating look in his eyes.
"They are mighty braw men. Their names are Alasdair, Farlan, and Harris - Harris being the youngest of the three, but still older than me." I look at him puzzled, as the timeline doesn't match up in my head. If it was two hundred years since he was here last, then these men are surely dead, right? He cuts off my thoughts, however, as he quickly continues.
"After they saved me, we traveled for several weeks, maybe even months. We formed a mighty good bond since Alasdair had always had a fascination for the supernatural - and I think the fact that I was only a wee lad may have softened their heart as well." He chuckles a bit at that.
"They took turns offering me their blood, so I could slowly heal and get back on my feet. They helped me a great bunch since I was in a very dark place at the time. I didn't know how to repay them for their kindness and friendship, so when Alasdair asked me, if I would be willing to turn him, I couldn't really deny him that request. After some time, when Farlan and Harris saw how much... better... Alasdair became, they too asked, if I would turn them." He looks at me then with a genuine smile. Alasdair, Farlan, and Harris must be the most wonderful of friends to him if his expression is any indication.
"Why did you leave then?" I ask him. He looks away once again, this time with a more regretful smile on his face.
"I got bored. I wanted to see more of the world and experience what life had to offer - if you can call my existence a life, that is." He looks down into his hands before continuing.
"They wanted to stay, so that was it. We promised, that we would see each other again at some time. And that time is now," he finishes as he looks up with commitment and determination in his eyes.
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