Victor studied Nicholas’s glare from afar; even beneath the shade of his hooded cloak, his narrowed eyes and firm frown were still visible. 

“What are you thinking about?” Victor asked. 

They were walking side by side down the winding forest trail that led into town. The trees had begun to crisp and brown, their bare branches stretching up into the gray sky. Autumn leaves rolled across the ground, carried by the breeze.

“I feel…torn,” Nicholas answered with a sigh. “Part of me is delighted to know that I may have a lead in finally ridding myself of this affliction. But the other part of me is scared that this will be a dead-end road.”

Victor reached out and touched his hand, which prickled with warmth. 

“Not to worry,” Victor reassured. “All will be well.”

Nicholas held back a laugh, but it broke free from his lips. 

“What?” Victor inquired, slightly offended. 

“It’s just…when you give others encouragement, you say it with such an apathetic look on your face.” Nicholas chuckled. Victor blushed and pouted his lips, glaring down at the path. Nicholas stopped and grabbed Victor’s chin, turning his head so they were eye to eye. “I don’t mean to embarrass you. I actually find the gesture rather endearing.”

A fox jumped out from the bush and landed on the path, staring back at them fearfully. It arched its back slightly and bristled its tail, its four white whiskers standing on end. 

“We’re nothing to fear,” Nicholas reassured the fox. 

He took a knee and picked a berry from the bush, holding it out toward the fox. Victor watched as the fox tentatively drew close, sniffing at the air. It nipped Nicholas’s hand and took the berry into its mouth, scampering off into the woods. Although the sun remained hidden behind a vale of pale clouds, Victor felt warmth spread across his face. 

He had always feared the endless possibilities of life. How could one find solace in such a world that was ever-changing–unbound by any rules? Before, the possibilities of Nicholas and his occupation would have sent Victor’s head spinning, but now he only held a faint fondness for both. He was rather glad, though he wouldn’t have admitted it, that Nicholas was possible–that their meeting and companionship had been a possibility even amongst the chaotic whims of the universe. 

A feeling sparked within his chest. It was as if someone had placed a fire directly into Victor’s hands, and he had no idea where to put it or how to snuff it out. So he simply reached out and grabbed the end of Nicholas’s coat. 

Nicholas turned and tilted his head down toward his companion. “Something the matter?”

Victor simply stared at the ground unsurely. It felt as if he’d suddenly been overcome by a fever, even though he didn’t feel remotely ill. Nicholas took Victor’s hand and began to walk back down the path. He smiled back at him and chuckled softly. 

“To march with hands intertwined is to feel twice as brave. Don’t you think?”

. . .

Together, Nicholas and Victor navigated the crowded streets of Still Water. The townspeople had begun to wrap themselves in scarves and sweaters to fight off the cold. Orange, white, and teal pumpkins decorated the shop windows and doorways. In the center of the town was a farmer’s market filled with the end-of-summer harvest. As he walked through the market, Nicholas spotted a man selling hot tea and began to approach him. 

“Is that him?” Victor asked behind his hand. “The one we’re looking for?”

“No,” Nicholas answered. He slipped the man some coins and received a cup of black tea with cream and honey, which he handed to Victor. Your fingers felt cold. I supposed that this would help warm you up.”

“T-Thank you,” Victor said shyly. And yet again, like a piece of flint striking iron, a spark flickered within his chest, arching over his heart like a shooting star. 

Nicholas stepped over to the next booth and grabbed a tomato from a wicker basket, testing its firmness. 

“What meals do you like to eat? I can grab a few ingredients while we’re out,” he asked. 

He was surprised when he heard an unfamiliar noise echo from behind. He turned and found that Victor was laughing. He’d never heard him laugh before. It was such a gentle thing, like when the church bells would strum to announce midday. 

“You’re laughing,” Nicholas said in awe. 

“I am able,” Victor said. “Though it has been a long time.”

“Why?” Nicholas inquired with a strange sort of smile. 

“Well, this is all a little funny, isn’t it?” Victor asked. “Compared to what we’re usually doing, this feels pretty mundane.”

“Does that…bother you?” Nicholas asked a bit shyly. 

“Not in the least,” Victor said. “I believe that even if we had not met under such strange circumstances–if our lives had been blessed with more normalcy–that we still would have become good friends.” 

“Friends,” Nicholas repeated silently to himself. Suddenly, that word seemed to have a different flavor. 

“Did you have many friends before you came to live at The Castle?” Nicholas asked, walking further down the market. 

Victor looked at him a moment, a bit confused by the sudden question, but then answered, “Not really. I had some playmates back at the orphanage, but I didn’t stay in touch with them after I was adopted.” 

“Surely you must have had many fans, being a pro-gymnast and all,” Nicholas said. 

“Fans and friends are different.”

“I suppose so…”

“Well, what about you?” Victor asked. 

Nicholas was surprised to have the question thrown back at him. 

“I was adored…I’ve told you of the suitors, and my gallas always brought in lots of fun characters–” his words caught in his throat. “But I suppose…they weren’t really my friends. It’s like you said; they were just fans. They both came to see us perform, to act, to flip, and to do tricks for them so they could applaud. But unlike you, I brought it onto myself to feed my ego.”

“I’d never met someone else who enjoyed Poe the way I do. Or was fascinated by the supernatural. Or knew the type of tea I liked.” Victor said, standing still. “I’ve never had a friend…I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like…but I imagine it must feel something like this. Don’t you?”

“Yes, I suppose it must,” Nicholas said. 

Suddenly, his eyes widened, staring past Victor and into the crowded market. 

“What is it?” Victor asked. 

“That’s him!” Nicholas said. “That’s the merchant we’ve been looking for!”

Victor followed Nicholas’s gaze and spotted a hooded figure a few feet away. The figure made eye contact with him, turned, and ran. 

Together, Nicholas and Victor wove in and out of the moseying crowd, chasing after the hooded figure. As he was running, the mysterious figure kicked a stack of barrels, sending them cascading down the path. Gracefully, Victor leaped from one barrel to the next, using the last one to propel himself forward. He tackled the cloaked figure to the ground, pinning back his arms. 

Nicholas ran up beside him and breathlessly asked, “Did you get him?”

“Let me go this instance!” the cloaked figure growled. 

Victor, still tightly holding the figure’s hands behind his back, lifted him to his feet. 

“We should go somewhere more private,” he said. “The townspeople are getting suspicious.”

Nicholas turned and noticed that several people were staring, talking behind their hands. He nodded, leading Victor and the cloaked figure into the woods. Once they were far enough away from the town, Victor let the man’s hands go. The cloaked figure began to dash away, but Nicholas used his magic to chain him against a tree. The chains glowed like hot iron and flickered with red electricity. 

“We have some questions for you,” Nicholas said, drawing close. 

He pulled back the figure’s hood and revealed the man’s monstrous face: lizard-like with two twisted yellow horns growing out from the back of his head. 

The man’s eyes widened as he finally took a good look at Nicholas for the first time. “Wait a second…I remember you,” he spat. 

“Y-You do?” Nicholas asked, a bit surprised. 

“I never forget a customer.” the man said. “Dragons have a photographic memory, after all.”

Nicholas slammed his hands into the tree bark beside the man’s head. 

“Then you must remember the book you sold me,” he said. “Where did you get it?”

The man laughed, his shoulders shaking the chains, which bounced with each chuckle. 

“You cursed yourself, didn’t you?” he asked. “That’s what happens to every poor sap that reads it.”

Nicholas dug his clawed fingers into the tree bark.

“I’ll only ask one last time; where did you find it?” he asked, his voice more growl than words. 

“That book is as old as cryptid-kind itself. It was written by a human like you…who longed to be more than what he was, only to become corrupted by his own greed.” the man explained. “I know what you’re looking for, but you won’t find it. The book has had many owners, but none of them ever found a cure.”

“How did it come into your possession?” Victor asked the man.

“I’m a traveling merchant. I collect supernatural items and sell them to fellow cryptids. On a continent across the sea, I came across an abandoned cabin. I found the book on a desk, next to the remains of its previous owner, who’d succumbed to the curse.” 

“If you knew what the book could do, then why would you sell it to me?” Nicholas asked. 

The man smirked, baring his fangs. 

“Because I like to watch humans suffer. Your kind is nothing but a plaything to us.” he spat.

“So that’s why you sold John those seeds,” Victor said, half-thinking out loud. “But then why’d you sell Dolph those poisoned flowers? He’s a ‘fellow cryptid,’ after all.”

“Honestly, I didn’t realize that fleabag wasn’t human. When werewolves are in their human forms, you can hardly tell the difference.” the man explained. 

“...You said that the previous owner of the book succumbed to the curse…what did you mean by that?” Nicholas asked. 

“I’m sure you’ve realized it by now, but you’re not like most vampires.” the man said. “You’re different. Natural-born or bitten vampires can sustain themselves on small portions of blood throughout their lifetime. But with you, that hunger will only worsen the longer time goes on. And eventually, that pain will twist your body into an unrecognizable shape, and you shall become nothing but a mindless beast.”

Nicholas took a step back, his legs trembling. The man saw an opportunity and began to morph into a monstrous, large creature with webbed wings. He burst free from the chains and glared down at Nicholas, smoke trailing from the corners of his mouth. In his new form, he looked more like the picture-book dragons Victor had seen, towering above them with a menacing grin. 

“I’ve had my fun in Still Water.” the man spoke, his voice much deeper than before. “I think I’ll move to another land and see what new fun I can have there.”

A silver glimmer shone in his eye. He turned his head and saw that Victor had climbed a nearby tree and was leaping toward his face, wielding a silver dagger. Victor kicked the dragon with the heel of his boot and slammed his head against the ground. The beast went to strike but froze as the dagger’s tip nearly met his pupil.

“Move, and you will only see half of where you are going,” Victor warned. “You will be leaving, but you will have no more fun with anyone, cryptid or human alike, understand? You’ll be an honest merchant with honest wares.”

“And what will you do if I ignore your request?” the dragon spat. 

“It is not a request.” Victor said. “If I get even the slightest whiff that you’ve continued your peddling business, I will hunt you down and I will not  show an ounce of the mercy I’ve shown today.”

The dragon gulped and nodded. 

“Good. Now go.” Victor ordered, sliding off the dragon’s neck. 

The dragon gave him an anxious look and began to beat his wings, stirring up the wind. His plump body lifted from the ground and soared up into the gray sky, disappearing into the clouds. 

“Did you really mean it? What you said?” Nicholas asked. 

“Of course not.” Victor sighed, pocketing his dagger. “There’s no way to know if that dragon will continue its wicked ways…but I hope my threat was enough to scare him straight.”

Nicholas’s features fell, and his eyes went dull. 

“Perhaps…you shouldn’t stay in this occupation any longer,” he said. 

“Whatever do you mean?”

“You heard him. This will only get worse, and there is no stopping it.” Nicholas said, verging on tears. “If I were to hurt you–”

Victor drew close, standing with their boots only inches apart. 

“Isn’t that why I wear this little trinket?” Victor said matter-of-factly, pointing to the necklace. 

“But what if it’s not enough?” Nicholas asked.

“Then I will find you a cure before then. We made a deal, remember?” Victor said.

Blush spread from one of Nicholas’s ears to the other. Victor’s eyes began to flutter close. He leaned forward and collapsed into Nicholas’s arms, overcome by dizziness. 

“You’re burning up,” Nicholas gasped, placing a hand on Victor’s forehead. 

“So it had been a fever after all,” Victor mumbled, falling unconscious.