A Day Without Blinking~A Paradox House fanfic -Chap.9(12/21)

A Day Without Blinking & Kid's Notebook
~~ A Paradox House fanfic

The Paradox House


Who RPs who in TPH--chapter 1:

Katio Kid - mintedstar/fur
Arlo Crimson - --cato phoenix
Ciel Phantomhive - broken

I own none of the characters. All the character that actively appear in here are from the anime Magic Kaito 1412. Arlo Crimson is an OC owned by --cato phoenix . Ciel Phantomhive, who is mentioned, is from the anime and manga Black Butler. 

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chapter 2:

Myrnin - mintedstar/fur
Oliver - mintedstar/fur
Arlo - --cato phoenix

I own none of the characters. All the character that actively appear in here are from the book series Morganville Vampires by Rachel Caine. Arlo Crimson is an OC owned by --cato phoenix .

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chapter 3:

Zange - mintedstar/fur
7S - HᥲꙆƒꙆɩɠᖾt
Matteo - broken

I own none of the characters. All the character that actively appear in here are from the manga series Inu X Boku SS or Matteo (the clone) from House of the Scorpion or are OCs (mine) and OCs to Echo.


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chapter 4:

Myrnin - mintedstar/fur
Samuel - mintedstar/fur
Claire - N/A

I own ONE of these characters. All the characters that are mentioned in here are from Morganville Vampires by Rachel Caine. Samuel is the only OC.

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chapter 5:
Myrnin - mintedstar/fur
Nico - strider

I own none of the characters. All the character that actively appear in here are from the book series Morganville Vampires by Rachel Caine or Nico (AU version) from Percy Jackson by Rick Riordan .

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chapter 6:



Samuel - mintedstar/fur

Sherlock - ®Hawkpath®


I own ONE of these characters. All the characters that are mentioned in here are from BBC Sherlock TV show. Samuel is the only OC.

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chapter 7:



Samuel - mintedstar/fur

Duck - Ver Million


I own ONE of these characters. All the characters that are mentioned in here are from Morganville Vampires by Rachel Caine or Princess Duck from Princess TuTu. Samuel is the only OC.

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chapter 8:



Myrnin - mintedstar/fur

7S - HᥲꙆƒꙆɩɠᖾt
Aurelia - mintedstar/fur 


I own ONE of these characters. All the characters that are mentioned in here are from Morganville Vampires by Rachel Caine. Aurelia is the only OC owned by me.
The other is an OC to Echo.


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chapter 9:



Maladict - mintedstar/fur

Dipper - Lark

I own none of the characters. All the character that actively appear in here are from the book series Discworld by Terry Pratchett or from Gravity Falls.



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Chapter 1

Katio was not particularly pleased that his dreams were full of the Paradox House. He hadn’t been there for over a month now and his head was working overtime to make up for it. He’d never gone more than a week without seeing Ciel, Ammy, or Arlo. It was killing him.

He sighed and clambered out of bed. After brushing his hair and teeth he stared into the mirror for a couple of minutes.

“Huh, no heists, no school, no House,” he said. “I’m starting to die of boredom.” His head rested lightly against the mirror until his breath misted up the refection.

He could work on his notebook again, remember more doors for the House’s hallways. Try and figure out a pattern. But he’d been doing that for the last three days and his head hurt with trying to remember details.

“I wonder if any of the blinkers are in history books?” he asked out loud. He’d looked up British History before so he could better disguise himself as Ciel Phantomhive, but that had been almost a year ago, now.

Turning away from the mirror he slipped on a pair of shoes and headed downstairs. He could have looked them up online, but he really need to move, so going to the library would be more interesting.

“Hey! Kaaatioo!” called a voice.

“Uhhh,” groaned the thief. “What is it? And can’t you knock?”

His classmate and friend, Aoko Nakamori, stood in the doorway. In her hands, she carried a covered pot.

“Gee Katio, I come over to give you lunch and you don’t even say thank you?” Aoko frowned at him, face flushed in annoyance. “I’ll give it to a stray cat next time.”

“Fine, fine,” said Katio, taking the pot from her hand and setting it on the kitchen counter. “Now.” He held out a hand. “Next time, leave the stray cat outside.”

“Huh?” said Aoko, looking at Katio’s outstretched hand with a confused face.

Katio turned his hand over and a small plastic cat was balanced on the back of it. Aoko looked surprised, but wasn’t overly impressed. This was Katio, after all.

“Anyway,” said Katio. “I was thinking of going to the library. So I’ll have to leave the pot here.”

Aoko looked surprised. “You? At the library?”

“I can read you know,” said Kid. He was starting to get annoyed.

“I just can’t imagine you sitting quietly at a table, looking through a book,” said his classmate with a little laugh.

Kid glared. “What?” asked Aoko.

Katio grabbed her hand and dragged her out the door. “Where are we going?” she asked as she was pulled along.

“Doing research,” said Katio, with a serious face for once.

“On what?” asked Aoko.

Kid thought about that for a second. “Um, I’m looking up someone named Arlo Crimson.” It was the first name that came to mind.

Aoko’s eyes narrowed. “Who’s that?” she asked. Her voice was full of suspicion. “You aren’t a stalker are you, Katio?”

Kid just looked at her. “Um, no? Why would you think that?”

And yet, he kind of was. But, wanting to find out more about the characters in the House couldn’t be wrong, could it?

Aoko blushed, but didn’t apologize.

Finally, they reach the large building that functioned as the nearest library. Kid took the steps two at a time and Aoko was dragged along. “Slow down,” she complained.

“You should speed up!” said Kid. A librarian looked up and glared at him as he trotted in threw the door. He said, “No running inside.” To which Aoko gave Katio an ‘I told you so’ face.

“Sorry,” whispered Kid, cringing a little. He didn’t like being singled out. “Uh,” he raised a tentative hand. The librarian raised a corresponding eyebrow. “Yes?”

“Can you tell me if you have any information on someone?” asked the thief.

“Like who?” asked the man.

“I’m supposed to do a study about woman in other countries,” Katio invented fast. “It’s for a Summer class. Well, you get given a name of someone random. Then you have to find out what the person did by yourself.” He walked up to the desk. The librarian looked a little suspicious, but didn’t say anything.

“Um, can you tell me if you know about anyone called Arlo Crimson?” the thief asked, sweating.

The librarian clicked a couple of keys on his computer then looked up with emotionless eyes. “Nothing. Sorry.” He didn’t sound like he was. Kid was to embarrassed to ask anything else. He just turned around and walked back out of the library.

Aoko trotted after him, uncharacteristically quiet. Then, “What in the world was that about!”

“Nothing!” said Katio, not looking back. He was to embarrassed that he hadn’t thought of a plan past the library door. And that even if any information could be found about the blinker it would be harder to locate than just asking a librarian.



Chapter 2

Oliver sounded particularly petulant today and he seemed only to find fault in Myrnin at every turn. Maybe this was because the green-eyed vampire kept yawning at everything he said...

"It's not like I can explain it," he finally broke in, inserting an explanation for Oliver's questions where he could. "It's called the House, okay? How was I supposed to know you'd think it was important?" Of course, Oliver would consider anything out of the ordinary important and would have wanted Myrnin tell him, but Myrnin hadn't wanted to. It wasn't like the place known as The Paradox House was ever going to be found out by the grumpy vampire. Turns out that had been a wrong assumption.

Myrnin crossed one leg over the other, shifting on the hard, wooden chair that was on one side of the desk. Oliver had a much more comfortable seat, but he wasn't currently sitting in it. Instead, he was standing, hands pressed plat against the top of it, a few scattered pens hinting to the fact that he might have stood up with some force.

"I mean," added Myrnin carefully. "I haven't even 'blinked' in recently. Apparently, it's taken a liking to you instead." He felt a twinge of jealousy. The fact that the intelligant building had traded Oliver for him didn't please Myrnin at all.

"'It,'" questioned Oliver, almost growling. "You act like it's living." He seemed to be asking for confirmation rather than expressing doubt. They both had experience with living houses, not all of them pleasant (particularly for Oliver).

"Yeah," confirmed Myrnin. "It's living."

Oliver cursed quietly, turning his head to the side a little. After a second, his head jerked back and he asked, "Fine. Don't expect to get out of this, however. You're telling me about it. Everything."

It wasn't like Myrnin was going to get out of it, or felt like he had a choice. So, he did...much to his annoyance.

Oliver seemed to know when he was keeping something out and he would stop Myrnin, sit in his chair, hands steepled in front of him, in complete silence until Myrnin couldn't take the cold blue eyes on him anymore. Then he'd end up going back and telling the vampire everything. About attacking Arlo and so many other embarrassments and times when he was weak. Oliver's expression never changed and he didn't seem to judge, but Myrnin still felt dirty after saying it all.

After he had finished, he let out a sigh. Oliver hadn't spared any secret or detail, carefully searching out anything that didn't seemed to fit perfectly. After another lengthy pause, Oliver said, "When you blink in again, I want you to write everything down. Claire can help, if need be, but I want you to turn in a report every time you end up there."

Myrnin looked up, astounded. "What! Why would I want to do that?" Oliver seemed mildly smug, for some reason. He didn't explain right off, which nearly caused Myrnin to scream. Instead, he talked briefly about what had happened when he had blinked in. Despite his impatience, Myrnin was interested. He listened carefully, paying attention to the descriptions of the other blinkers in particular. He would like to search them out when he blinked in again. And he was confident he would. What else was supposed to relieve the boredom?

Finally. Oliver answered the original question. "I think you need to write it down because I don't know what happens when you are there and because I want you to see what you do while you're there."

Myrnin had no clue what that meant, but he couldn't exactly complain. Oliver was his boss, and Myrnin couldn't quit or be fired. Oliver had to work to make Myrnin work, but they were stuck with each other.

"Yeah, fine," the green-eyed vampire muttered with narrowed eyes. He didn't need to voice the fact that he wouldn't like it.
"Can I go now?"

Oliver shrugged and motioned to the door that was behind Myrnin. He wasted no time in rushing out of it.



Oliver sighed heavily, head coming down to rest in his hands. A fleeting smile ran across his lips, but if anyone had seen, it had moved so fast that they would have thought they had imagined it.
"He doesn't realize the friends he has there, does he? The fool."




Chapter 3


When you can see the future, you'd think you wouldn't be worried about things, right? Oh, how you'd be wrong. You really start to worry. When you start to see the future, when you start blinking into a place that you sort of ... left thinking you were dead. Which I technically did. It's hard to explain, since I've had to do it I don't know how many times. 

I'll make it simple on you. Reincarnation actually happens. I'm a creature called a yokai and I used to be a guy. You can ignore whatever part of that you want. It might confuse you later. But what do I care?

Anyway, this is basically what I do when I when I am waiting for the House to start paying attention to me.

I, Zange Natsume, upon my death, give all my worldly possessions to ... You get the idea. Couldn't say I have much of a bright outlook on it all. I don't want to look into the future since I already know I make it past the age of thirty. I really don't care how it happened. I stood up from the desk I was sitting at (okay, hopped down. I was still only about ten years old at this point). I was still at the hotel, somewhere in New Zealand. I was still traveling with a couple of good friends but they were currently eating downstairs and I was hanging out in my room. After a second I looked out of the window, looking to see the courtyard and the trees (and the people who happened to pass by, though that wasn't many).

7S ... I thought.

When I'd first helped change the past, I'd wondered why my future self had sent a choker back in time. Well, wondered as much as I could wonder without looking ahead. It was still back at my home in Japan. I'd only vaguely been aware of what it meant to the other Zange.

I ran a hnd through my long, red hair. I was careful not to rub it away from my eyes. A brief flash of the image of flowers still crossed my mind. I sighed. I didn't want to see any more of the future.

Chewing at my lip, I padded in bare feet toward the doors. Not like I was going to walk far like that ... there was a pair of eyes on the tops of my feet and I didn't want to leave them exposed.

So I slipped on a set of shoes, hardly remembering to add on a pair of socks.

I wandered out of the room, humming cheerily under my breath as I thought. I hadn't really gotten to know very many blinkers, most of the regulars had met me, but that was all. It looked lik now I'd get a chance to finally get to know and spend more time there.

I rubbed a hand under my chin, white glove brushing against my hair. I really wanted to make sure of two things before I left New Zealand. By then, I'd have started blinking (from my brief look into my future I knew this.)

And I'd be running into one in five (I rounded the corner, feet still shuffling along the carpet), four (straightened the bow in my hair, since it was coming undone), three (I noticed a door open out of the corner of my eye), two (someone exited the room), one (said person runs into me, having not seen me before they turned the corner).

"Oof," we both exhaled. Me out of habit, since I'd already known this would happen. The girl about six years older than me rubbed at her head, clearly pained. I'd ended up having my head hit the underside of her chin, which had sent her head into the door.

"My apologies," she said, accent in her voice. "I didn't see you."

I didn't rub at my head, even though it did smart. Shrugging, a grin coming to my face, I said, "Noooo worries. You're from around here, correct?" I wasn't speaking Japanese. One perk of knowing everything was that I didn't have to worry about foreign language classes.

The girl, the teenager really, nodded along, clearly surprised. "Uh, yes. I'm Cassandra. Born and raised here."
Having already known this, I just introduced myself. "Zange Natsume."

If Cassandra was surprised at the name, she didn't show it. The grin flickered wider along my face and I started to move past her, only to turn back with a wave. "See you around."

Which I would, since me and my friends were looking for this 'Cassandra'. As I turned back I picked up the song I'd been humming under my breath again with nary a fault in pitch or tone. One thing on the to-do list completed. I was fairly sure the other could wait.

***

Matteo has quiet a bit of low self-esteem.

I mean, I can't say I feel everyone likes me (ha!), but I know for sure that other blinkers like that little kid. And I know without looking into the future.

I'm still in New Zealand, though that isn't a surprise.

Cassandra's been talking to me and my friends, and I think we're starting to notice some "strange" things about each other. Not too hard, since Cassandra is probably the most normal of us three. I haven't told any of the others about the House, but sometimes that's hard. I think that the House is the major reason Cassandra has started to notice there is something odd about me in particular (not like me 'guessing' her favorite icecream flavor, shoe size, and that she used to dye her hair didn't add to that fact). Water disappear from glass, me suddenly shouting or saying random phrases ... yeah, that raises a couple eyebrows now and again. I'll have to deal with the confusion within the House and outside it.

I think this latest blink is something I will have to explain ...

"You probably wont believe me," I started, looking at Cassandra and knowing that she would but that it would be hard.
"But about those disappearing flowers ..."

I'd been wearing a couple flowers in my hair when I'd been looking through a newspaper. The newspaper had blinked out with me, but some of the flowers were now scattered around the floor where they hadn't been before.

Cassandra had her eyebrows raised and was scanning the ground as if expecting an answer that wasn't there.

"They sort of got stuck in another world ..."

She looked at me as if I was crazy. I leaned my head against my hand, looking her in the eye with my single, visible red one. "Think I'm lying?"

It was a loud question. Glaringly to the point.

Cassandra bit her lip, looking at me, and said slowly, "No ..."

My usual grin widened and I leaned back in my seat. "That's cool," I said. "I should tell you about it sometime."


Chapter 4



Myrnin’s lab is located at the end of an alley that narrows as you walk down it (like a funnel) until you are met with a house (don’t put too bright a shine on it. ‘Shack’ is better fitting). Once you open the door (often padlocked shut) you are met with a lot of dust, a little bit of old furniture, and the steps down into the laboratory.





The steps downward are simple concrete with a railing on one side. Watch your step.







The main room is often more cluttered than this, but it’s very likely that Claire has cleaned it recently. Potentially dangerous boxes, piles of books, and other detritus is scattered around the four counters in the center of the room. The couch and chairs are often moved around as needed. Most often by Myrnin, since Claire, if she had her way, wouldn’t have them at all. The room is about the size that a regular house would be (but that would have taken up more than two pieces of paper). Claire always has one counter claimed with orders to Myrnin not to touch anything. He never listens. To the right is the door to the library, but the couch is currently in front of the door, so we won’t both with it. Ahead are the bookcases on rollers. There’s a ladder somewhere that’s used to reach the top shelves, but we’ve lost it. If you look you can see Bob’s terrarium. The exposed door is to the closest down to the tunnels. Often times it is hidden by bookcases. The single bit of blank wall that is revealed when all the shelves are pushed against each other is where Myrnin can form the portal to … well … most anywhere.

To the left is the dividing walls that separate the main lab from the kitchen. We’ll head their next.





The kitchen is the latest edition to the lab. The lab has been completely destroyed a good four times and each time something new is added. Claire convinced Myrnin that if she was going to be called at all hours, sometimes without breakfast, at least he could have something like a break room. The sink is still (read: often) used for dumping various concoctions down. The island in the center is the only thing table-like and there aren’t any chairs yet. Random, sometimes non-cooking related, items are placed on the counters. To the right (not visible) is a refrigerator. I wouldn’t look in it if I were you …





Well, I guess now I’ll show you the tunnels. They’re threw the door that you saw directly ahead of you when you first came in. There’s another trapdoor, because the downstairs needs a downstairs. There’s a ladder down, but Myrnin often forgets it’s there and just jumps down or up. The tunnels look like they’ve been carved from rock and then fitted with exposed, old-style lightbulbs. Don’t stray from the path. There are traps and … things … down here.





The main path leads to an open room. If anything, the lighting is worse here than in the tunnels. Front and center is the computer that runs Morganville. Currently ‘Frank’, though that would be a long story if I tried to explain that. It – erm - he took three years for Myrnin to put together. He goes pretty far back into the room.

In some universes, Sam has sleeping quarters off to the left. But that’s his business.

And thus, ends our tour! Oh … you don’t know how to get back from here … I’m sure you’ll think of something! Bye now!


Chapter 5


(Watch me butcher Nico’s character, Strider!)

How do you describe blinking? One minute you are looking at a friend, a loved one, or a simple inanimate object and then suddenly you’re vision just … shifts. One moment you aren’t and then you are.

Have you ever had this experience while reading a book? It makes the whole process a lot easier because the only thing that changes is the other four senses. It is very probably easier on a human than it is on a vampire.

The book pressed over Myrnin’s eyes was more of a cover as he slept than anything like light reading. It looked like it weighed a ton and a little more, page edges fluttering as he not so much breathed as twitched. Not pleasant dreams. It was the change in texture under his back that had him jerking upward, pushing his book off his face and feet hitting the back of the couch. He knew where he was, of course. He’d been blinking into the House long enough that he could have picked up its signature … well, let’s put it this way … if he ever thought it was possible for a place not to smell of anyone but still smell like an old house than he would have described the House as that. Not something that goes unnoticed when something like a million people had blinked into the building over the years.

“Hello, House,” Myrnin said with a yawn. It was a wake-up call at least. “Was there something I needed to do or is there some way you can allow me a bit of uninterrupted rest?” As if he was getting a mental answer (which he wasn’t. You really learned to talk to yourself here) he said, “No, that’s what I thought. Thank you for your oh so kind attention.” The last sentence was a cross between a drawl and a long, drawn out sign.

He shifted his position on the overstuffed couch, placing one foot on the floor after the other. He stood up and stretched out an arm. “I predict, someone shall blink in … now!” Nothing happened. He glared at the finger like it was a malfunctioning wizard’s wand. While he was doing that someone else blinked in behind him. Myrnin knew this a second later and spun around, pointing a finger at the boy and said with enthusiasm, “There!” Like that had been his intention all the time. He lowered his hand, or rather, he stretched out all his fingers and wiggled them as they made the downward crawl to his side. A really odd wave. “Heeeeeeeeeeeeeello Nico,” he drawled again. Today was a drawl-y day. He watched the boy from the corners of his eyes (this required him to turn his head like a bird would. Angled sideways and slightly downward). “How are things?” after the far too familiar greeting there was the hesitant tone of someone who’d had an argument recently and isn’t sure whether it’s going to be brought up again.

The boy seemed normal enough. He was wearing dark clothing and there were circles under his eyes. He was very pale, but then again, so was Myrnin. There really shouldn’t have been very much to eye. Well, apart from what looked like a very angry scar across the teen’s throat. There seemed to be a stony silence that stretched between them, clearly not intended to be filled by a response to Myrnin’s carefully casual question.

It was a bit hard to tell if they were wishing the other away or not. Myrnin carefully sat down on the couch and promptly turned his back, semi-glad that vampires didn’t sweat, otherwise he would be. It was awkward and it was sad and it was just a distasteful moment when he couldn’t think what he wanted to say. Nico probably was wishing that he wouldn’t say anything, but they were both trying to pretend there wasn’t a wall between them. Myrnin was trying to pretend everything was normal. And Nico? Who knew what was going through his head or if there was even anything in there that Myrnin wished to endeavor to understand.

There really wasn’t anywhere to sit that wouldn’t have made it obvious that they were trying not to talk to each other. After a minute, Myrnin looked up from his clasped hands, turning slightly around, looking for his old friend. They had been friends, at least. But there was the little fact that Myrnin blamed himself for getting Nico killed. If he’d just …
Nico looked over, dull eyes meeting Myrnin’s as if he could see what was going through his head. Myrnin completely stiffened, so it was a bit more telling what he was thinking now than it ever had been. It took him letting out a breath of air that he hadn’t needed to bring Myrnin’s attention into focus. Then he braced one hand on the back of the couch and push himself to his feet. “Small talk isn’t going to work, so if you just want to stand there without even saying hello, then that’s fine. If you want to ignore me that’s fine. But I can’t deal with the fact that I can’t talk to you like this, no matter how much I want to.” He shook his head, ponytail swishing around his neck as it threatened to loosen out of the tie. “But thanks. For being there before all this happened. I appreciate that, even if there’s nothing for us to talk about now.”
Nico scoffed, the first real sound he’d made since he blinked in. “That’s a bit useless to say now, isn’t it?”

There might have been the beginning of a wince in Myrnin’s gaze, but it didn’t reach further than that. “Yes. Very useless. It made me feel better anyway.”

The boy-god arched an eyebrow, something that he’d probably wanted to do for a while. “I’m glad that you feel so greatly healed after that statement.” There was certainly sarcasm there now. At least when there was the bubbling of a full-on argument Myrnin felt that he was doing something. Did Nico consider him an enemy?

His hand tightened on the back of the couch. “Nothing I can say can fix this?”

“I’m not even sure you know what you’re trying to fix,” was Nico’s response. “I see nothing worth fixing.”

There was supposed to be some sort of relationship here. Myrnin knew that they had been, even if just beginning, something like friends. They’d shared some good times, some bad times, things like that. And Nico had stood up for Myrnin, just that one time, and everything had fallen into this.

There was a tension of muscles and then Myrnin pushed himself away from the couch, pacing around the coffee table like he was suddenly a caged animal. He was focusing too much on himself, he knew that. He knew he was a self-centered person. But there was also the fact that the boy he was looking at wasn’t the Nico who had done that. This boy-god didn’t seem the type to stand up for anyone.

“Stop,” said Nico. Myrnin stopped, looking over. Despite the fact that he’d been thinking about Nico didn’t mean Myrnin had actually remembered he was still there. “What is it, Death Boy?” he asked, faint smile on his face. Nico sneered at the term (Myrnin had never really used it much. He’d never been too sure that Nico liked it) and said, “You’re making me dizzy. Just sit down.”

The rattling sigh that escaped Myrnin’s mouth resembled the last gasp of a dying man. “Ooooh how boring is that. Why not talk, that would be fun, right?”

“No,” was the blunt shoot-down.

“Yeah, that’s what I figured,” said Myrnin. “Thinking out loud here, but you don’t like me, do you?”

“I have no personal opinion of you one way or the other,” said Nico. His arms had crossed at one point or another. The couch was still between them, but Myrnin lifted one foot and rested it on top of the coffee table. “Hum. That’s a bit surprising. Most people either like me or hate my guts,” murmured Myrnin. He shelved the bit of information away. Under a shelf marked ‘lies’, though he wasn’t sure if Nico was aware he’d lied. Not like Myrnin was even sure which way the boy-god swayed these days.

“Would a room be out of the question …. Nah, actually, I’d almost rather wait to blink out. Unless you wanted to, of course.” Myrnin tried to look cheerful again. It was so rare the feelings felt forced, but this was one of those days.

There seemed little other options other than just standing around here, but Myrnin was still surprised when Nico headed for the hallway even though Myrnin had verbally backtracked. Not like he said for Myrnin to come with him, but Myrnin silently followed anyway, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he moved along.

It didn’t matter what door you picked, but Nico still walked further than Myrnin was used too. He picked a door, opened it, and walked in without comment. Myrnin hurried after least the House choose a different fate for him. Like slamming the door in his face and consuming what was left of Nico. Ridiculous fleeting thought, but it was still there. Worrying at the back of his head.

The roaring of tumbling water hit his sensitive senses as soon as he entered the room. He looked back and the door had already disappeared. Behind him was a tree, looking as perfectly innocent as a tree could look. There were several more, but it seemed too sparse to be considered a forest. It looked like something came here often enough to keep all the plant life a manageable height and so forth. No that was incorrect, as far as Myrnin was aware. This place had been created tamed. He wasn’t sure if that was reassuring or not. After looking away from the leaves he followed Nico’s scent. The boy had moved on without him. There really wasn’t anything to distract him from following Nico along a path that slowly revealed itself. There were only plant scents, no animal. Mushrooms peaked around roots of trees and Myrnin carefully eyed poison ivy and other plants he knew to be poisonous. Feet crunched against rocks and leaves because Myrnin didn’t care to be quiet and sometimes even a vampire could not move completely silently. The forest was quiet apart from his shoes and the pounding, raging sound of water against rock. To his right there was somewhere the trees dipped down. It wasn’t a complete drop off and as Myrnin strayed from the path he saw the edge cliff. It was a tumble down of rocks to a deep drop full of more trees and an unrestrained river of rapids. Myrnin looked down at the drop like it was nothing, seeming pretty interested. The House was setting out a very pretty landscape this time. He only turned away when he focused once again on the fact that Nico was ahead of him. He trotted to catch up, now ignoring the poison ivy and other plants completely, stepping through them with his flip-flop covered feet. Rooms were dangerous when in a group, so it was impossible to say how they could be dealt with alone.
It really didn’t cross his mind that Nico was a god and could take care of himself. He knew that. But it didn’t hurt to have a little help. His feet started to lead him down the cliff, but Myrnin was bored halfway down and just jumped the rest of the way.

The sound of water was impossibly load now and spray dotted Myrnin’s clothing as he gripped a tree branch above him so he wouldn’t go tumbling down the remains of the precipice. Looking left and right he finally saw the remains of the path that picked its way along the edge of the cliff. He’d caught up with Nico, because there he was, just within view. Since Nico wasn’t moving very fast Myrnin caught up with quick steps that no human would ever risk, hardly gripping any bit of the wall as he went. “Where are we going?” he asked over the sound of water. Nico didn’t look back, but his hair was already wet and dripping from the condensation. Myrnin wondered if he could still feel cold.

“The path has to lead somewhere,” Nico said. He was just following it. Myrnin was just following him. They were leading each other deeper into the room and whatever lay there.

There had to be some silence within the room. Silence that took up what was between them. At least the fact that the House had ‘forced’ them to walk around out here meant that they had to look at each other.

Myrnin, the chatterbox that he was, attempted to mention that he hadn’t seen a waterfall like this in a long time. Nico raised only small responses to all of this.

It was one of the few rooms that so far hadn’t had any danger. Myrnin didn’t think that there was a possible way of jinxing that by thinking so. The rooms were always jinxed without that.

It didn’t seem right. In his mind he kept thinking this was still the same old Nico. But he wasn’t and any words he said was inadequate. But he’d get that other boy back, in some fractures and pieces as he needed to. He’d never give up. Never let go. There was something in him, deep within his eyes, that wasn’t as broken as he expected, wasn’t as cold as he knew. And whatever it took there would always be some sort of hope there. The silence between them was just a resolve for Myrnin to continue to smile and continuing to try.

Just another step forward. Myrnin could wait a thousand years if they both had that sort of time. So, he chattered away as he figured he could, never enough to push Nico over the edge of annoyance so there was silence between them for minutes at a time. The path twisted upward at a slow ascent. The sound of water growing louder at every step they took until Myrnin had to focus on not bringing both hands over his ears as the sound overwhelmed his hearing. The rocks were slick, but they both stayed on the path without slipping up. Myrnin hopped to higher bits of rock when he wanted to avoid particularly wet patches, but Nico traveled threw them without being fazed.

The waterfall was finally ahead of them. “Exit?” suggested Myrnin brightly.

“Too direct,” pointed out Nico. He’d been in the House a long time too. A door behind the waterfall was ridiculous, but they’d probably both check anyway.

Nico grunted a bit, picking his way over the rest of the rocks, jumping from section to section. Finally, he said something, “Check over there, by those rocks a bit to the left.” Myrnin frowned as he tried to pick out where Nico was talking about as the boy-god continued on his way. There was a bit of an outcropping further up the side of the growing cliff-side (growing further as they winded upward again) and it looked very unassuming. Not nearly as obvious as the waterfall. Myrnin smiled a bit. Nico hadn’t even questioned that he’d be able to get up to it.

He wasn’t sure what Nico was going to do, but checking up there was as good a start as any.

He jumped.

It was as if he’d just stepped onto a higher than normal stair. That’s how easy he made it look. It involved no scrambling, no grabbing or steadying of the hands … just an easy jump.

The outcropping was just that. An outcropping. A couple of loose pebbles rained down the side of the cliff as Myrnin perched there, standing on a slim piece of rock that couldn’t have supported a mountain goat’s hooves but seemed to work just fine for him. He looked around, movements slow so as not to overbalance. He wasn’t Superman. (Or was it Spiderman?) He could still fall. “Nothing,” he called down to Nico. “Unless you count a few tufts of persistent lichen.”

He turned slowly, looking down. Nico wasn’t there. Myrnin frowned. He had heard the god shuffling around, but he didn’t think he’d moved that far away. He jumped, once again with the same sense that he was just stepping off a rather tall step.

“Helllllllllo?” he called, voice echoing against the cliff walls, though it was almost drowned out by the waterfall.

It was too damp to track Nico with something like sound or scent. The waterfall was throwing that out-of-whack. Myrnin crouched on what passed for a path, studying the leaves and grass and loose pebbles. Sight it was.

His gaze flickered across turned over leaves and discarded pebbles, but he was disappointed to find that this was hard. The waterfall? Could Nico have gone ahead?

But instead the vampire looked backwards, standing straight again. Or back?

This was simply guesswork and he didn’t take either option. He took several steps forward … and looked down.

The river roared below him, several hundred feet down, digging into the earth and slowly stripping it away. Trees clung to the deeper parts of the cliff, grass clinging to the rocks along with moss and lichen. And directly below where he was …
“Was there a purpose to falling off the path?” he asked, tilting his head at Nico. The god was about five feet down, holding onto a scraggly tree with both hands. Myrnin tried not to smile, because Nico looked furious. Myrnin scrambled a couple steps forward, spreading himself across the uneven rocks of the path on his knees and then flat out. He extended a hand out to Nico. “The exit is very doubtful down there, unless the House really wants us to jump to our deaths.” Which could be possible. It wouldn’t have been the first time. He knew that he might survive a bit if dropped into the water and so, now, might Nico. That didn’t matter, however. He was trying to reach out to Nico to bring him back to the path. That seemed like a bit of a metaphor. He wondered if the House had set that up.

The roar of the river blasted into his ears, drowning out whatever Nico said. Myrnin could see his mouth moving but couldn’t hear what he was saying. It didn’t really matter. He wasn’t taking Myrnin’s hand. Myrnin frowned at the boy-god, sighing a bit. If there had been a reason for this hanging over a pressipace than Myrnin was pretty sure it was just the House’s ironic way of making a pun. Nico didn’t seem like someone to fall without some supernatural push. Not like he was now.

The vampire reached out further, mentally complaining that he didn’t come with five foot arms. Not like it mattered, because finally Nico seemed to give up whatever complaint he had and reach out as well, fingers gripping Myrnin’s with one hand and the tree with the other. And he let go of the tree.

The weight of a human is still weight, even if you are a vampire. Myrnin’s other arm released its hold on the rock underneath him and he grabbed for Nico’s arm. This mean the god was swung into the cliff wall and even through the sound of the river and falls Myrnin could still hear the sound of bone meeting rock. He tried not to wince. His body slipped several inches toward the drop-off.

“What in whatever god you choose to name were you doing that close to the edge,” he growled through gritted teeth. “If you want to kill me by dragging me down with you than make it a little more obvious.” Nico glared at him and repeated, or Myrnin assumed he was repeating, whatever he’d been saying while hanging from the tree. He swung back and forth a bit as he shouted over the waterfall, “The waterfall ends down here! I was trying to look and something collapsed under my feet!”

Myrnin frowned. Well, if it was the House that controlled just about every part of their time here, then that was very likely.

“I’m slipping,” he stated flatly. “Can you pull yourself up?” Nico’s foot scraped against the side of the cliff, using Myrnin to help scramble upward. Myrnin slipped further, but if anything, he looked bored at the prospect of falling to his death. Eventual death. That was the thing. It would be a very painful, eventual death.

Nico reached the top and scrambled to his feet. Without the weight of the boy-god pulling him down Myrnin could place his hands on the side of the cliff and walk himself upward again, pushing himself onto a safe, solid surface. A blazing thought that Nico would be in a good position to push him arose, causing him to pause and look back over his shoulder. He couldn’t help being doubtful, even though he tried. He didn’t know this new Nico well enough to be sure what he would and would not do.

Myrnin made it to a splayed out position, lying on the ground and looking up at the mask of water spray that was splashing down around them. “That was stupid for you to do. And what if the way out did, in fact, prove to be falling off the side of the cliff?” asked Nico.

“Then I guess I’ll jump later, but I’d like to try other options first,” said Myrnin, sitting up. He shook some of the condensation and water out of his hair. He grinned at Nico. “Choices are fun!”
It is, of course, assumed that they made it out.

Otherwise they wouldn’t be here anymore, now would they?

The House isn’t cruel.

Chapter 6

There was a clatter as Samuel blinked in, falling into a bookcase and supporting himself against it with one arm. He growled through his teeth, spitting several times to clear a bad taste from his mouth. He looked exhausted and he pulled himself straight, brushing off the simple t-shirt and jeans he wore. Ice chips fell to the ground.



"Gee House," he muttered. "You could have left the ice back there at least."



He was wet, but at least he wasn't cold. His fingers still felt stiff, but they were unthawing now.



Looking around, he waited to see if anyone else was going to appear.







Sherlock blinked in, his instrument held in one hand and bow in the other, moving it along the strings. The playing only stopped when he seemed to deem it something he wanted. He lowered the instrument, looking over at Samuel. There was no one else in the room, but he seemed to be picking ice chips off his sleeve. The detective noted that he must have been ankle deep in snow - at least - considering the varying patterns of snow against his pants. "Hello," he greeted.







Samuel looked up, having already realized Sherlock had blinked in. "Hello," he returned. "That's nice music." It was more a statement to be polite then anything.



He'd finished removing ice chips, though everything seemed wet, sticking to his body. While other planets could be interesting, he didn't like pushing through ice. He pushed hair away from his eyes before his attention moved around the living room. Was anyone else going to blink in? He didn't have anything to talk about, much less ask Sherlock about.







Leaning against the back of the couch, Sherlock waited for Samuel to finish. This wasn't out of politeness. He just had nothing useful to say, other than the pleasantry of asking how he'd been - or where.







"Room?" suggested Samuel, after Sherlock didn't seem like he wanted to put in anything. The vampire didn't intend to wait anyway, so he walked toward the hallway.



His footsteps still crunched a little and he had to be careful not to slip on the puddles his shoes were leaving.



The hallways was the same as always. Even if Sherlock didn't follow then at least Sam was confident that he could handle a room without too much trouble. A hand rested on one of the first doors and he pushed down on the handles.







There really was no reason to refuse, so Sherlock left the instrument on the couch and hoped it would blink out with him. Then he followed Sam into the hallway in time to catch the door he'd opened, just before it closed. The detective was a bit offended the boy hadn't waited, but he continued after him.



Inside the room, the ground was a chalky grey color, while around the world was equally colorless. Samuel was the only spot of color, directly ahead of the detective.







Samuel looked back when Sherlock entered the colorless room. The detective probably wouldn't be able to understand, but it wasn't just colorless. Samuel couldn't smell anything from it either. There were things that looked like colorless trees - really, it looked like they were in a park. But the trees had no details on them and the floor below his feet could have been concrete. But there were no flaws or variation in the colors.



"Odd," said the vampire, glancing at the grey sky with its stationary grey clouds. "What do you think?"







"I can't tell," admitted Sherlock. He looked around the room again. He'd noticed the same thing that Samuel had. There seemed to be a lot to the room - but a lot more of it was missing. There was a lot to see into the distance, but there were no details. There was no scent and hardly any feeling under his shoes. There had to be some trick to the room, of course. A way to get out, of course there was that as well, but it wouldn't be what they expected. And what he expected was something to do with the lack of color.







"Do you want to know something?" asked Sam. He pointed around. "No sound but us. No smell but you and me. Even the feelings of the room are dulled." He walked over to the nearest tree, feeling along what was supposed to be the bark. His fingers hardly felt any difference in texture.



"I don't get it. There doesn't seem to be much to the room." If they walked around, would there be some difference?



Samuel breathed out, shaking out his pant leg. A couple drops of water dripped onto the ground. Like everything else, it just showed no color, though he had no idea if that was because it was clear or because it had changed to match the area. "Should we try and find anything in color?" he asked. Apparently, he was thinking along the expected line of thought which Sherlock had already rejected as too easy.







Despite the fact that the detective didn't believe the color to the room would effect much, he was stuck for other ideas. Instead, he pointed in a direction. Usually, the House let them run into a hint sooner or later. He wanted to figure this room out without one, but he would settle for moving onward.



Stepping forward, he passed over what might have been a path in the park. There was a bench - in lighter tones of grey - beside it. There wasn't much to the world, but Samuel was correct. Even though this looked like a park, there were no animals or even real life. No grass, no trees that were truly more than lifeless blocks. If there was going to be color in this world, he hadn't seen it yet.







Samuel sped up, his feet hitting against the floor with the only sound in the room. It didn't sound right either. Not the sound of grass, but more like concrete.



Keeping up with Sherlock was easy. But that might just have been because he was a vampire.



They both walked for several long minutes. Nothing changed, though an equally lifeless city was beginning to turn up in front of them. Samuel's eyebrows rose and he was about to point it out to Sherlock when there was a sound in the sky. Wind? The sound of something loud moving.







Sherlock looked up, hearing it as well. He tensed, prepared for something to happen. That's what happened in more rooms.



What he saw, however, surprised him. Which was rare.



It was a large ... stick. Which did include color, from the point to the brush on the end.



"Ah," said Sherlock, looking up. "I get it now." The shadow that the paint brush cast was pretty impressive.







Sam reached out, gripping at Sherlock coat. "Yes, yes. Move now, before it comes this way."



He pulled, and because he was a vampire, the coat started to rip before he got Sherlock to move. But he started to dart away as the paint brush started to fill in some green on grass near them. Sam couldn't see any giant hand steering it, but this was worrying enough.







Sherlock moved after Samuel, mentally complaining about the coat. He would have moved without the boy's help!



But that aside, he was moving. He had no idea how they were going to get out of that room, not completely, but he'd started to come up with something.



Maybe it did involve color after all.



The paint brush was following them. Sherlock rushed ahead of Samuel. "Follow me," he said. After over a dozen yards, he took a sharp turn to the left.







Eyes widening, but not seeing a better option, Samuel did just that. The paint brush still followed them, spreading green across the ground. This world started to remind Samuel of painting on clay, now that he was running. Or a paint by numbers, though he hadn't seen any numbers yet.



He would have continued running forward, but he caught Sherlock's tight left before he overshot and lost the detective.







One, two, three, four ... thought Sherlock. He had to time this and hope he was right. That brush was the only thing in color right now, apart from them. It was a very obvious hint.



He kept running for another dozen yards, the paint brush still following. He hardly dared looking back, but he had to.



It wasn't running out of paint at all. This was going to be close.



"Left again!" he informed Sam, taking another sharp left. A shorter amount of time passed in this stretch, and here he grabbed Samuel, pulled him sharply in the direction he wanted the boy to go.







Being pulled around wasn't pleasant for Samuel, but he did have a bit more freedom to look back. The paint brush had followed them pretty closely. That puzzled him.



A paint by numbers. But that didn't have different shades of grey and white. Something seemed familiar, especially with the jerking way the paintbrush followed them. Which wasn't running out of paint, no matter how much it had covered already. The line looked weird as well - too straight and un-paint-like - but he didn't get a chance to say anything because Sherlock was still pulling him.







Sherlock grabbed Samuel's arm again. They'd almost doubled back on the same line of green. He just hoped he was right in his understanding of this room.



"Roll," he said, pushing Samuel just before they ran into the old green line. He followed the boy, ducking away from paint brush that then connected with the previous green line.



And stopped moving.



Sherlock remained tense, looking at it. Between one blink of his eyes and the next, the paint brush was replaced with a large paint bucket full of green paint. It tipped dangerously over them and Sherlock ducked his head, hoping Sam would as well.







And Sam did just that, covering his hair and head. If he'd thought he'd been wet before, this changed. He was soaked, covered in green, a second later. When he felt the onslaught end, he looked up, carefully cracking open his eyes. Spitting out paint, he asked, "What was that?" The paint brush had disappeared, but the paint bucket seemed to be attacking a nearby grey tree. It didn't seem to be having as much luck as their makeshift square. Paint got onto the truck, and suddenly the bucket was a giant eraser and the paint was gone.



Sam gaped. "Oooh!" he finally said, realizing why the line of paint had looked weird. "We're on a computer painting program!" A cheep and old one, very probably.







Sherlock uncurled and resisted the urge to swallow whatever was in his mouth. "Yes," he said, scowling to himself. "And if we wait around, we might get out when that thing finishes painting everything. I'm not leaving this place until then. It might come back to see why some spaces were we were aren't green." He pointed at where Samuel's body had blocked the paint.







Samuel couldn't really disagree. They'd nearly been crushed by a paint brush. He crossed his legs, looking around the room. And picking drying paint of his sleeve. At least watching paint dry in a room might be fun? Maybe?



Chapter 7

There was a 'quack' and a duck appeared in the living room.



Sam was glad for the distraction, but he couldn't really understand how this was one.



Had the duck blinked?



He removed his feet from the coffee table and the drawing pad from his lap, setting it down. He'd blinked in with his watercolor set. Complete watercolor set, which he found interesting, but not particularly noteworthy. He'd just been doodling aliens. Were they aliens if you were currently traveling around in a space ship and hadn't seen modern-day earth in about a year? It was a tough call.



"Er," he said to the duck, which, if was possible, looked at him with annoyance.



Was it an intelligent duck? Could it talk?



"Hello?" he questioned, leaning forward. It was a young duck. He at least knew that much. It looked at him, shuffled its feathers a little, and quacked again.



He'd heard cat-foxes speak and dogs speak and dragons speak. He didn't see why a duck wouldn't. But it wasn't, so he wondered if it was someone's pet. Could pets blink in? Or maybe it was a magical item that just looked like a duck? Or maybe it was a blinker, but just couldn't talk?



Or if it was a monster, then he was sticking his nose far too close to it for safety's sake.



"Er ..." he said again. "If you can understand me, can you ... hop up and down once?"



The duck flapped its small wings, but it did hop. Sam blinked, impressed. So ... it could probably understand him.



"Are you a blinker?" he asked. Then added, "One wing flap for yes, two for no?"



He waited and got one flap of the wings. Good, good. They were getting somewhere.



"What's your name?" he asked, then realized that wasn't a yes or no question. "Scratch that. Are you a duck?"



No real answer. The duck just looked at him and Sam could practically see the answer in its eyes: 'No? Duh mister? Say another joke and maybe I'll laugh'.



"Okay," he said again. "I'll ... try and not ask stupid questions." The duck walked away from him, nearer to the coffee table, and seemed to loose interest in him.



It jumped several times, not making it very high, and then looked back at Samuel. Samuel wondered what he was missing. All that was on the coffee table was his paint, water, and bushes.



"Do you want my paint brushes?" he asked. The duck blinked, waited, and then flapped its wings twice.



"Paint?" Sam hazarded. Maybe to draw something?



Two flaps.



"Water?" he asked, feeling a bit desperate. That only left the paper.



But the duck quacked several times and jumped up and down. It flapped its wings several times, excited.



"But ..." said the vampire. "It's dirty! You can't drink it."



He got the 'are you stupid' look again.



"Okay, okay," he said again and reached out, setting the container of water down. It was too high for the duck to reach the top anyway, but it didn't seem to mind. Sam watched in worry as it tipped over the container, getting muddy black paint water all over the floor. "Watch it -" he started. But something else happened and he gaped.



The duck was gone. In its place was a rather wet girl.



Who gave him a bright look, no longer the 'are you stupid' look. "Thanks! My name is Duck!"



It was Sam's turn to give her an 'Oh? Duh?' look.


Chapter 8

The House had a habit of making things easy sometimes and other times downright impossible. Today, it seemed to be favoring Myrnin because he blinked in with pictures and 7S turned up a second later.



Myrnin bounced around her, excited and clapped his hands. She turned her head to watch him, seeming slightly amused.



"Hello Myrnin."



Myrnin bit his lip, calming down a little, and came to a halt before he circled his friend any more times. "Hello 7S," he greeted. He was grinning like the madman he was. "Guess what, guess what, guess what?"



7S waited until the 'guess whats' had petered out before she said, "What?"



Myrnin rummaged around in his pockets - which he had a lot of - and pulled out a stack of old polaroid camera photos. "I stole them from Aurelia - a not-friend of mine - so I thought these would be good?" They were actually rather recent pictures, including him and some of the Goldmans. Which were the family that Aurelia was a part of. Though he wasn't sure if the people would interest her, there were several shots of the house and it included the technology of his times. So he figured that would interest her.



7S took the photos and as far as Myrnin got, she was looking at them. But for all he knew, she was scanning them.



"What do you think?" he asked after a little, still grinning. 7S looked up and seemed, to the vampire, to be pleased. "They're great. Can you tell me about this?"



She pointed at some of the pictures. Myrnin looked at it, eyes roving over the picture. "Ooooooh! That's the laundry room. This ..." He pointed to what was around the room, explaining what everything was in Myrnin fashion. This meant the drier was called: 'makes a woooosh sound, spins the clothes around until they get dizzy, and then I don't know ... they have a cat now, so maybe the cat goes and makes a nest in there. If you sit on it, Theo glares at you a bit.'



And it went on.



When he was done, his grin widened a bit more. "So ... did I win?" Since they were trying to come up with who could get the most amount of pictures.



7S chuckled and shook her head. Pictures began to play over the wall as she pointed to them. Maybe of where she was now. Myrnin crossed his legs as he sat on the couch, clapping his hands in interest.



"Better than a laundry room," he agreed.



Chapter 9

Maladict blinked into the room and at once started sinking.



"What in the Duchess' name?" he exclaimed, trying to paddle his way out of ... sand.



"Don't move!" said another voice and Maladict completely froze. His uniform was getting completely ruined. He did not want to explain that to the Lieutenant. But right now, he was a bit concerned about the fact he was now waste deep in wet sand. He looked around, trying to spot the voice, but having no luck. It had sounded young.



"I - I ..." said the voice and at least Maladict could tell where the voice was coming from. "I think you're supposed to try and float?" The voice was very hesitant. "It's quicksand."



Which told Maladict nothing. He'd never heard of quicksand in his life. So with that, he just payed attention to the first part. He didn't fancy the chances for that. His legs weren't that deep in, but he couldn't move them out. He gritted his teeth, bending backwards. At this point, it honestly might have just been better to dust him. But getting his ashes to properly collect wouldn't be a good idea.



"Eeeerg," he muttered. "I hate this."



The voice wasn't saying much, but there was nervous humming. Maladict sunk a couple more inches. The 'floating' idea wasn't working.



"I," said the vampire, though hesitating. "Think I might try something." He didn't like it. And he didn't like it for one clear reason.



His body warped, and the wet sand couldn't keep up with the swiftly shifting body. For a second, Maladict was a flapping, disgruntled magpie which spiraled away in short dips of its wings, before collapsing - human shaped again, and clutching his head. A deep, resounding headache pounded through his skull. A large human becoming a small bird wasn't strictly possible, but he could still do it. It was the other part he disliked. He couldn't conjure up clothing, not like the others. But he noticed something ... different as he opened his eyes.To his amazement, the same uniform he'd been wearing before had appeared on him again. Well, everything really, not just the red and white uniform. He ran a hand over the lapel and even the black ribbon pinned to his breast pocket. And gaped. "What in the ...?" he said. But then he shook his head. He probably shouldn't question.



He looked around. The room was ... impressive. And by impressive, the vampire meant deadly. There was a bear trap around there somewhere ... and one of those where you stepped into the lope and you were jerked up by your ankle. And cages and barbed wire and other things that Maladict didn't know about but didn't want to run into.



Maybe he should have stayed a magpie.



"Hello?" he asked, turning slowly and careful not to fall into the sand again. Then he looked up. The voice had sounded like it was coming from an adult's head height, but apparently there was another reason for that.



The boy might have been in his tweens. And he was spinning in a slow circle, face red, so Maladict couldn't really get a good look at him.



"I'll ... get you down from there," said the vampire, picking his way around the edge of the sand.



"Thanks," said the boy with a huffing exhale of breath. Maladict studied this trap and carefully picked his way around it. When he was close enough, he unsheathed his sword. "This may hurt a bit," he admitted. The boy's eyes got wide, but it was already too late and the rope which was keeping him suspended was cut.



The boy landed on his arms and partly on his head. "Sorry!" admitted Maladict. He sheathed his sword and then reached down, helping the boy to his feet. His face was still very red. "Thanks for the help."



"N-no problem," wheezed the boy. He rubbed at the bruises that were forming on his elbow.



"Maladict," introduced the vampire. "Who are you?"



"Dipper Pines," said Dipper, looking a bit less red around the face.



"Nice to meet you," said the soldier. "Now ... do you see a way out of here? Before something with metal teeth catches one of our legs?"



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