If You Must Run

817 47 11


It only takes me a quarter of an hour to drive to the location the bartender marked. As I drive further and further out of town, the roads get steadily narrower, more pockmarked with holes and scattered with gravel. My hands grip the steering wheel so tightly it hurts, but I'm not taking any chances. I'm not dying in a fucking car crash while on a vampire hunt.

In the dark of the storm, the hedges lining the road look like things that want to eat me. (Question: are vampires higher on the food chain than humans?).(Aleister fucking Crowley, I'm turning into Simon Snow). Even the Jag's bright headlights only deepen their ominous shadows. I feel like Alice, falling down the endless rabbit hole. Forever and forever and forever...

Needless to say, the fifteen minute drive feels like eternity. Finally, small, dilapidated houses with cracked, peeling paint and moss-furred shingles emerge like beasts in the dark. They rise in a haphazard yet somehow stolid row on one side of the road, side by side. So close together you could stand between them with your arms out and easily touch the slimy siding on either side.

Only one house looks like it's seen any use in the last fifty years. A set of tyre prints dig deep trenches in the muddy driveway of a squalid, lopsided house that I think must've been blue once. Its splintering door has been nailed onto new, mismatched hinges (one bright bronze, the other ornate and black) and hangs crookedly from the frame. It doesn't look like anyone's home, but I could be wrong.

I pull slowly into the driveway, trying to make as little noise as possible. Then I sit in the car, staring at the house for a few minutes. Assessing the situation.

Honestly? I would never go into a house like this if Fiona's life weren't on the line. The things I do for family...

Suck it up, Basil. You're a motherfucking Pitch. Pitches don't pay ransom, remember? They get shit done themselves.

The thought banishes any and all doubt, leaving behind only a cool, clean current of pure magic and adrenaline pumping through my veins. Before I can lose my nerve, I grab my wand, turning my clothes back to normal (one does not wear a suit to a trap house, it's frowned upon). As soon as that's done, I fish my mobile out from my pocket and press the 'share my location' button so Si and Bunce (preferably not Wellbelove) can find me if anything goes wrong. Then I step out of the car, gently closing the door so as not to make any noise. I creep up to the disintegrating porch, squaring off with the threshold and staring at those mismatched hinges.

A deep, silent breath. I can do this.

Clenching my jaw, I open the door.


Author's note:

Hello again, I have returned!

I am less sick than I was, which is good. But like I said earlier, I've got a shitload of schoolwork to catch up on. However... I'm an expert procrastinator. Writing this on a more regular basis shouldn't be a problem now. And besides, only a few more days until my Thanksgiving break, so that means MORE SNOWBAZ (insert evil laughter here).

Sorry for the short chapter with a cliffhanger ending. It's a dick move, I know, but it's only because I love you guys :) . I've got some truly wicked things planned for this fic, so be prepared!

Don't forget to like, comment and/or share!


All That We AreRead this story for FREE!