Worlds Across

Chapter 5: Thats. It.

So, as we’re getting into the van—bloodied, bruised, and in various states of existential crisis—I notice something in the road. Because obviously, after all the chaos, this would be the perfect time for a side quest. I stop the van, hop out, and jog back a few blocks. And what do I find?

A freaking bag of gold. Yeah, you heard me right. Gold. Like, straight out of a treasure chest from a pirate movie, just lying there on the ground. I know what you’re thinking, “Where the hell did this come from?” Honestly, no clue. I’m not even going to question it. Plot convenience? Divine intervention? Someone upstairs felt bad for me? Who knows, but I’m taking it.

Fast forward a bit, we roll up to Duskwatch—that’s the vampire town, by the way, and if you're wondering, yes, I named it that because it sounds like the title of a bad gothic romance novel. Anyway, since I’ve suddenly gone from broke to rolling in gold like a fantasy RPG protagonist, I do what anyone would do in this situation: I buy a house.

And get this, it was super cheap. Only 300 gold coins! Like, what? Who’s running the real estate market in Duskwatch, and can I hire them back home? Seriously, in vampire town, you can afford a house for what you'd normally spend on a used car. If I had to guess, this bag has about 1,500 gold coins, so we’re swimming in it. Of course, I don’t tell the others exactly how much gold we’ve got. You think I’m sharing? No way, buddy. I need some leverage in case someone does something stupid, which, let’s face it, is a guarantee.

Now, you’d think everything’s going smoothly, right? I mean, I’m a homeowner, the vampires don’t seem to mind me (I mean, they were probably just relieved to see someone with more than half a brain), but the moment they catch sight of the rest of the group—especially Matt—the mood shifts.

It’s like I walked in with a clown troupe to a funeral. The vampires start getting all hissy, glaring daggers at us, probably thinking, “Oh great, here comes the human disaster parade.” I rush everyone inside the house before anyone can start throwing fangs.

I gather Draco and Matt—the prime offenders of the night—and sit them down for a little heart-to-heart. Well, more like a “please, for the love of all things holy, stop being idiots” talk. Matt’s still looking pale from his “vampire transformation” fantasy, and Draco’s fidgeting like he wants to punch something (probably the floor, because that’s his thing now).

“Alright, listen up,” I start, trying to sound like I haven’t completely lost control of this situation (spoiler: I have). “You two need to drink some water and get some sleep. No more acting like you’re invincible, because news flash: you’re not. Sage and I will go find some actual food that isn’t questionable bartender blood.”

As I turn to leave, feeling like maybe, just maybe, I’ve got a grip on things, I feel Draco grab the back of my hoodie. And honestly, at that moment, something inside me just snaps.

I whip around, grab his arm, and in one swift motion—because apparently I’ve unlocked some secret martial arts skill—I flip him over me and slam him onto the floor. BOOM. Down he goes. The look on his face is priceless, but I’m not done. Oh no, not by a long shot.

I stand over him, and with the full force of someone who’s finally hit their limit, I start what can only be described as a legendary rant.

“YOU LISTEN TO ME RIGHT NOW, DRACO,” I shout, my voice echoing through the house like the wrath of some ancient god. Everyone freezes, probably too shocked to even blink. But hey, they brought this on themselves. “I HAVE HAD IT UP TO HERE WITH YOU AND YOUR PUNCHING EVERYTHING THAT MOVES!”

I throw my arms wide, pacing in a circle as if I’m about to deliver a motivational speech—or at least something they’ll remember in therapy. “I DON’T KNOW WHAT KIND OF ANGSTY, BROODING, ACTION HERO YOU THINK YOU ARE, BUT NEWS FLASH, DRACO: THIS ISN’T AN 80s ACTION MOVIE! YOU CAN’T JUST SOLVE ALL YOUR PROBLEMS WITH YOUR FISTS! THERE’S SOMETHING CALLED TALKING, MAYBE GIVE IT A TRY!”

Draco just lies there, blinking up at me like he’s not sure whether to be angry or impressed. Doesn’t matter, I’m on a roll.

“And Matt,” I shout, turning to him now, and the poor guy looks like he’s about to shrink into his seat. “YOU. ARE. NOT. A. VAMPIRE! I don’t care how much blood you drank, it was ONE bartender! You’re not going to sprout fangs, or sparkle in the sunlight, or whatever it is vampires do these days! You know what you ARE going to do? YOU’RE GOING TO DRINK SOME WATER, EAT SOMETHING THAT ISN’T A PERSON, AND TAKE A NAP!”

Matt opens his mouth to say something, probably about how I don’t understand the “dark gift” or some nonsense, but I cut him off with a glare that could melt steel. “NO, MATT. I DO NOT CARE ABOUT YOUR TRANSFORMATION OR WHATEVER YOU THINK IS HAPPENING. YOU ARE A HUMAN. A DUMB ONE, BUT STILL A HUMAN.”

I pause for breath, hands on my hips, and glance over at Tony, who’s just sitting there with a drink in hand, blissfully ignoring everything. “At least Tony’s too drunk to be causing chaos, but you two,” I say, glaring back at Draco and Matt, “are driving me absolutely INSANE.”

There’s a beat of silence, the kind that feels like the whole world is holding its breath. Then I take a deep breath and add, much more calmly, “Draco, drink some water and get some sleep. Matt, you too. I’m done with this nonsense. And NO more alcohol unless I personally approve it. If you so much as look at a bottle without asking me, I’m locking you in a room with Tony for a week.”

Draco grumbles something unintelligible from the floor, probably about how he’s going to punch me next time, but he drags himself up and stumbles toward the nearest couch. Matt sulks off like a sad puppy, muttering under his breath about how I "don't understand the darkness" or whatever. Sure, Matt, keep living that spooky little fantasy.

As for me? I walk out the door with Sage, muttering to myself, “I swear, if I survive this trip, I’m charging all of them rent.”

After that legendary meltdown, I decide it’s probably best to go find some food. Obviously, this means mostly meat because, well, we’re in a vampire town and apparently that’s what everyone is into. I’m fine with it, though. Pretty sure Tata, our fluffy overlord, is also on board. That cat would eat anything that smells remotely like protein. And honestly, I brought him with me because, let’s face it, if I left him alone, Matt would probably try to drink his blood. I’m not risking that drama.

As we wander through the market, I hand Tata to Sage for safekeeping. She cradles the cat like it’s the most natural thing in the world while I’m still simmering with leftover rage. Sage, being the wise, all-knowing presence that she is, decides to go full therapist on me. She starts talking in this calm, soothing voice that’s basically the opposite of my current state of mind. I’m still on edge, thinking about how close I came to really losing it back there.

“You lost your shit back there,” she says, in that totally non-judgmental way only Sage can pull off. “For a reason, yeah, but if you feel like talking, I’m here.”

I raise an eyebrow, halfway between a sigh and a laugh. “Talking?” I echo, glancing down at Tata, who’s purring contentedly like the world’s fluffiest therapy cat. “I think I’ve said everything I need to say, loudly and with maximum destruction.”

Sage just smiles, her voice dropping even softer, like she’s reading bedtime stories to a toddler. “Well, if you don’t want to talk to me, that’s fine. But I’m sure Tata will happily sleep on your lap while you calm down.”

I look at the cat, who glances up at me with those big, non-judgmental eyes, like he’s just waiting to be the hero in this emotional mess. Damn it, Tata. Always there with the perfect timing.

“Fine,” I mutter, running a hand over my face. “I’ll take the damn cat therapy.”