Deal with the Devil Pt. 2

Thick was the air with sweltering clouds of vapor and smoke. Though the air outside was chilled with a leisurely breeze the interior of the room retained the atmosphere of a sauna. The two creatures working restlessly in the small quarters wore as little clothing as possible and it didn’t bother one another. Smiley wore only a pair of long trousers with suspenders hanging loosely off his shoulders, a root from some kind of plant poking out from between his lips that he chewed mindlessly as he scanned through another thick book of spells. Arzu wore a thin, flowing skirt that stuck to her thighs in the heat and a loose tank top, which sagged under her arms, exposing her small breasts if she leaned too far over the boiling cauldron she stirred. Her long, thick black hair was tied up into a careless bun, some of the strands stuck to the back of her neck against beads of sweat. There was little conversation between the two as they worked besides the occasional epiphany of magical discovery, in which the progression of their work furthered. Their bond was a more wordless one, one of a mutual importance where the werewolf dedicated her concentration to her work and the vampire stayed in his place to assure his survival.

Every now and again, while scanning the spell book over with his focused lavender eyes, the vampire would slice his finger against the sharp edge of the paper, drawing a minuscule amount of tar-like liquid from his veins. As every day passed it seemed to be steadily getting worse; it had been two month since he had started working with the lycan woman, and he was able to conclude he only had around a month left to live. The other man inside his rotting brain was starting to fade, he could feel it, and though it didn’t scare him it made him anxious. He would relieve this anxiety by inducing pain to reassure himself he was still there; little cuts littered his fingers and arms, scabbing over to create black scars. His eyes, though they were not intrusive, would wander up quickly every now and then to meet Arzu’s and only in these moments was he the least bit vulnerable.

The work she had taken up was therapeutic, relaxing almost though there was the constrain of time. Arzu knew she was powerful in her magical abilities, but these circumstances proved to be a challenge, even for someone with her expertise. The curse this vampire had been afflicted with had accumulated for so long within his person there was no way to stunt it or lengthen its progression. In this dire situation it would only be a cure completely or death. And the lycan knew in the pit of her heart that if this man died she would die as well, not by curse, but by the heartbreak of her utter uselessness. Her faith was here, in this room, simmering in this cauldron filled to the brim with dark red liquid, thinner than blood, but thicker than water. This was her salvation because this would prove her worth and if she could pull this off, perhaps this would not be the last time she would help another like this.

Neither of the creatures’ slept, dark rings of exhaustion hung heavy under their eyes, but they harbored no desire to rest. On occasion Arzu would cast spells on them that would replenish some of their fading energy, but they would be temporary. The work they had dedicated their lives to called for every waking moment they could offer, so they did just that. Though their efforts had brought them a long way, there were still two key ingredients they would need in order to ensure it would not be in vain. One would require more magic than Arzu alone could provide and the other was the blood of the immortal. Each of these would not be easily attainable in the least bit due to the faults of the two beings, and the consequences of their actions gnawed relentlessly at their weary minds. In this moment the issues seemed to linger heavily over their heads, building up from the start of their collaborations so they were saturated and bloated in the present.

Smiley’s eyes pulled away from the spell book to lock onto Arzu’s and for the first time in a few days he spoke directly to her,
“There is something I need to retrieve in order for you to complete the cure.” His disposition is unreadable, detached from all kind of emotion, and after he speaks his hand reaches up to slick his messy brown hair away from his eyes.

“The immortal,” Arzu replies, knowing immediately what this last ingredient needs to be. She trusts the blood will be easily accessible to the vampire seeing as though he promised he would have everything in order for her.

“It will take me a week at most to attain it,” his eye twitches slightly as he speaks these words as though a small piece of his anger surfaced for a moment, “Though I know I don’t have that kind of time.”

Arzu nods her head understandingly, waiting that long will not be an issue for her, seeing as though she will have to get another magical being to aid her in the process of the cure’s formation. Only one person she knows has that kind of power and familiarity and she isn’t even sure that person wants anything to do with her anymore seeing as though the last time she saw him he was sinking his teeth into her flesh. “You should leave tonight if you feel you are ready.”

The vampire closes his eyes and leans his head back against the wall, a tiny smile gracing his pale lips. He lets out a chuckle from his lungs; in his mind he damns the woman who causes him so much frustration, that woman and her stubbornness, her sickening attempts to spite him. Nothing but a bitch or a spineless little cunt. A cold shiver runs up and down his body and it makes his joints stiffen; he knows this to be his flat mate. “I won’t have a choice,” he states calmly, opening his eyes to stare up at the ceiling, “I expect the potion will be ready enough by the time I return.”

“It will be,” the lycan states, looking back down at her deep red liquid to stir it some more. She knows it will be and damn her if it isn’t.

The vampire closes his eyes once again and allows his wounded finger to rub against the sharp edge of the paper, making the black liquid seep out to stain the page of the book.

“Good.”