World of Make-Believe: Chelsea's Story

A Plan?

Ah I remember you." Devon rose to shaking knees, head throbbing.

Crimson lips widened to show off doubled fangs, "Ah, do you?"

"Giselle." He grinned. "Pathetic, you still think doing grunt work's gunna get the Queen to fuckin-" Devon grunted as a meaty fist connected with his cheekbone.

"Yes~?" She hissed, heels clicking delicately forward. "You were saying?"

A hand tangled in his hair, forcing his head to jerk up, his green eyes colliding with her blood red gaze.

"Oh, Pet." His teeth ground; realizing why Chelsea hated the nickname so violently. "You think I'm still doing grunt work? You've been gone for half a century. We're not just playing at war anymore little fairy." Her nails scraped under his chin, leaving a burning trail. "I heard you have been working on something."

"How did you-"

"I am so glad you asked!" Her hands clapped as one of her minions let out a shrill whistle.

Immediately the air temperature dropped. The feeling of doom and danger in the atmosphere doubled as a mist rose from the ground. In the distance a heavy thudding echoed. Closer. Closer. Louder till it vibrated through his bones. Red and yellow sparked through the growing fog like flint striking a starter.

"What-?" Terror rose unbridled.

A cold sweat built under his skin, anxiety knotting in his gut as his throat tightened. The thundering of hooves broken by heavy wheezing as the shadow loomed closer, the mist breaking and parting around a shattered and twisted horn. Eyes bloodshot and rolling in sockets matched the sweat and foam flecked froth splattered on a chain wrapped neck. Pawing the ground with a heavy, chipped hoof the animal let out a whinny that was more of a scream - instantly Devon could feel a thousand frights fall over his mind at once.

"A Night Mare." The gasp left his lips before he had the sense to guard against his fear, a hand reaching out to the last reminder of the creatures true nature; the tattered golden halter wrapped and tangled in the chains and bindings like a filthy rag.

"Oh yes." Giselle's lips smacked in repressed laughter. "And she's got a little gift for you."

With an upbeat sway in her hip Giselle rounded the skittish creature, smacking it on it's bleeding nose when it screeched again. The chains rattled and cracked, the animal shifted and danced. With a few exaggerated hand motions Giselle produced a mason jar, still smelling of shitty cheap apple pie moonshine. Devon nearly rolled his eyes but for the faint red glow from within.

"Go on." She grinned, showing off all fangs, her veins racing blue along her neck as she tilted her head. "Let him loose to see."

The loss of tension allowed Devon to fall to his palms on the concrete, though he didn't move forward. Not yet. Not until he gathered his senses. He didn't need to see to know. He knew.

Robin.

"What need do you have of him?" Devon cautiously stood, studded shoes scraping the ground much like the Night Mare's hooves had.

"Ah~" Giselle giggled, "Call him collateral. Call him insurance?" She smacked the mare's neck, making the animal shriek and kick out, teeth gnashing at air. "Whatever you want to call him, our Queen demands you give her your weapon. She demands that you hand it over and she gives you two weeks to do so."

His eyes drifted to the blackened fingertips she held up, then back to that bloody smile. "I can't- I don't even know-"

"It doesn't matter now, does it?" The vampire sang. "Will you not even look at your poor father? He's so scared and alone-" Her voice was infantile as her nails tapped on the glass, then dropped several octaves. "Oh but wait," her eyes flashed, "I guess he'd be used to it by now, wouldn't he?"