Dr. Crocus Sativus’ Journal

Block 1, Op, 7230

5th Finus—As if the idea of the Grand Mayor being infected was not bad enough, the effects were seeping into her mind. She rambled on in some language I am not fluent in, but could identify as the dead human language Latin. Van Hellebore, a seemingly religious Flora could only pick out the words “God,” “the darkness” and “death day”. He was not concerned by them, but I certainly was. Could she be referring to her “death day” or ours?

Afternoon—Van Hellebore has been injured and Jasmine is gone. We followed her outside as far as Van Hellebore could go, but the cut on his arm was too deep. I took him back to the house and used part of a sheet to wrap the wound. He was more furious that he could not go on than the fact that he was critically injured. I continued to replace the wrappings until the blood stopped soaking the white fabric.

When our stomachs spoke, we searched for food, but were unable to find anything in the kitchen. The volumous cellar also yielded no reward. We checked back in the dining room and found that last night’s feast was still scattered across the great table. Flies buzzed around the rotting meat and dripping sauces. The only thing that was edible was the salad.

5th Reli—Had she not written in her journal, we would have never found her. Yesterday's events seem impossible when reflected upon by a logical mind, tragic too. Only two thirds of our party could enjoy the victory. The other will be forced to become one with their earthen origins.

I will retell everything from the start. Of course it would make no sense to begin anywhere else. I apologize for my lack of organization, adrenaline continues to course through my body.

It was Van Hellebore’s idea to check Jasmine’s journal, for it held a clue that could have set us back had we not that single piece of knowledge.

She wrote,

“I will be reborn among the wolves and nocturnal creatures.”

It went unnoticed at first, until Van Hellebore realized that we should not search the house. The place was so big that we would never have found them in time even if they were there. In the room Miss Short claimed as her own, nothing more than a dusty old bed and dresser, we found an ancient map of her property. It was falling apart on the edges and was much older than the house we stood in. Presumably Miss Short had drawn in the house and various buildings shattered across the area.

Van Hellebore immediately pointed to a building a mile north of the main house. It appeared to be a mausoleum with a wolf ornament marking the entrance. “They must be here!” He exclaimed. “It makes sense. Vampires sleeping in a graveyard marked by the wolf!”

“If we are wrong, Miss Dichtoto will no longer be with the living.”

“It is the only logical place! That was the direction she ran.”

I rewrapped his arm again and helped him carve two cross-shaped stakes. Being the passive Flora that I am, the feeling of the cold wood of a weapon was odd to my senses. I pushed this feeling away and replaced it with what bravery I could scrape up.

Although the sun still lingered in the sky, our surroundings were impossible to see. My specialty guided us to a solitary graveyard occupied by about fifty corpses. A grave had recently been dug. The empty pit was marked with a headstone reading, “Miss Cornus Kousa”. No dates were marked.

In the middle of the eery lot, stood the mausoleum, the great centerpiece. Its human architecture proved its age and left us dumbfounded that it still stood after millions of years.

“Someone has been alive to take care of it. It must be special to them.” Van Hellebore whispered.

We crept up to the stone doors and pulled them open slowly. “Someone incredibly strong opens these doors on their own.”

The air was heavy with the stench of the dead, but was notably old. Van Hellebore could not see through the void, so I lead him to the coffin in the center of the room. The heavy stone lid was then moved and dropped on the ground. We jumped back at first; Miss Short’s glowing eyes were wide open, but her mind was sleeping.

Our relief was only brief however. Jasmine screeched from the dim entranced and snatched Van Hellebore away from her master, forcing him to drop the stake. She threw him onto one of the gravestones and the sick snap of his back bounced off my eardrum. Jasmine kneeled down in front of him with her fangs bared. In a fury of clawed swipes, Jasmine beat him to a bloody pulp.

“What are you going to do now old man? You have no stake and you can't move.” She taunted him in a voice unnatural to her body.

His response was not vocal, yet powerful. He pulled her long hair, forcing her towards him. The cross necklace from his neck was forced over her head. The agonizing scream was unbearable! I ran over to her and pushed her off his weak body. “She’ll be fine,” he croaked, “as long as you plunge your stake through the head vampire’s heart. Hurry, the sun wanes upon our skin.”

I gripped the stake tightly in my hand and looked back at them again. Van Hellebore was no longer conscious and Jasmine rolled in the dirt trying to take the necklace off, but the cross burnt her hands.

The next moment I will hold in my memory until I succumb to my permanent death. I neared the mausoleum; Jasmine whimpered for me not to hurt her “master,” but it had to be done. After all of the years I heard rumors about Jasmine's bravery and ability to protect her people, it was my turn to be the hero.

I ignored the fierce piercing eyes and brought the stake down into Miss Short’s unprotected chest. Her mouth dropped open, but the only noise I heard was escaping air. The fluorescent purple glow in her eyes flickered out into black.

Dr. Crocus Sativus