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Pyro had spent his entire life never being good enough.
His parents had cut him out of their will and left him to fend for himself because he wasn’t sufficiently accomplished. Even without another heir to replace him, they’d decided he wasn’t worth the time or effort. No professor had ever taken notice of him either. He was a mediocre student. Not so incompetent to be remarkable, nor so brilliant to earn himself their admiration.
And now, he was a creature of the night, and he couldn’t even excel at that. He didn’t doubt that his Sire would soon grow frustrated with him and leave him for the villagers to tear apart. It was an inevitability, especially after he’d failed to control himself with Shelby. And yet, there was still hope in his cold, unbeating heart. Maybe if he just tried a bit harder, he could earn his Sire’s forgiveness.
Desecrating a beacon all by himself had been hard work. He was tired by the time he was done, and it didn’t help that the sun was still high in the sky, slowly melting away his skin. There was nothing he wanted to do more than to find a little dark crevice to crawl up into and sleep. Could vampires sleep? He hadn’t really been able ever since he’d gotten turned, but… that could have also just been the hunger gnawing at him forcefully keeping him awake. Or the anxiety brought forth by his new nature. Or both.
Regardless, he knew that he couldn’t rest yet.
Scott had gone ahead by himself when they were all at their weakest. When the warm orange light of the holy beacons had blanketed Oakhurst and its surroundings. He could have died doing so; even with all his age and wisdom, he wasn’t indestructible, and yet he did so without protest. Pyro had to follow his example if he wanted to get back into his good graces. He couldn’t just laze around.
He gave himself a few more minutes to catch his breath. Long enough to feel ready to turn into a bat once more. And then he did as Owen had instructed him to do on his very first day as a creature of the night: he focused all of his attention on a single spot, and he felt himself rising from the ground as the world grew around him. A flurry of leathery wings blocked his vision for only a moment, but soon the air in front of him cleared up enough for him to push forward and soar through the sky.
From up there, spotting his Sire was easier. He found him sitting beside the beacon that had served as a backdrop to Pyro’s turning only a couple of weeks before, looking rather out of it. Unlike him, Scott hadn’t gotten to have a filling meal before taking on the arduous task of desecrating that holy place by himself. Because he’d stolen that chance from him.
Without any ounce of grace, he landed by his side, letting himself turn back into his humanoid form as he did so. His knees met the ground, and his back was so hunched over that his eyes had to be raised to look at the dull red ones of his Sire. To an outsider, it would have looked as if he were praying. They wouldn’t have been far off the mark.
His Sire may not have been a god, but every instinct of his screamed at him that he had to treat him as such. His survival depended on it, but fear wasn’t the only emotion that compelled him to do so. Longing was also there. And that one he was far more familiar with. It had followed him throughout his life, that desperate, almost obsessive desire to have someone be proud of him. To have someone sing his praises.
It was a far-off dream, however. First, he still had to earn his Sire’s forgiveness.
“I desecrated another beacon” Pyro was the first to break the silence. His words tumbled out of his mouth with no restraint, too eager, too hopeful. He immediately regretted them. It wasn’t hard to misinterpret his enthusiasm for a lack of repentance, and his Sire’s patience was already wearing thin.
When Scott raised his hand in his direction, he closed his eyes. His body flinched away from his Sire without his consent, but he didn’t move or transform. He’d known from the start that a punishment would be coming his way sooner or later, and he’d already burned his one chance at avoiding it. Surprisingly, however, he wasn’t met with violence. Instead, a cold hand ruffled his hair and then vanished just as quickly as it had arrived. Too soon. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been met with such a gentle gesture, and he craved more.
“Even you can learn how to behave, it seems” Scott’s tone was always light and airy. Unnatural in the way only someone who’d had centuries to detach himself from his humanity could achieve. And yet, the undertones of it were sharp and icy. He hadn’t forgiven Pyro yet. But he was showing him mercy, and that was more than he’d been expecting. More than he deserved.
“I’m sorry, Sire. I really didn’t mean-” his pitiful attempt at an apology was cut short by Scott, who waved it all off nonchalantly.
“What’s done is done” the elder vampire decided. “Let’s think about where to go from here. Because neither of us can go back to Oakhurst. I’ve been spotted, back at the castle. And you look… well, you almost look like a proper vampire now. There is no way even those fools won’t know what you are. And you can’t get away with going around wearing a skull the whole day like me. It doesn’t fit your character”.
Not being able to see his own reflection had made it so that he was unable to fully assess how noticeable his transformation had been. Owen had mentioned something about his eyes turning crimson. He wondered if they looked as devoid of any light as Scott’s did, too, now that the colors were matching… As for his skin, he’d noticed how pallid his hands looked. And, while those were easy to conceal, he hadn’t brought along any makeup that could help with his face and neck. And he lived with Apo of all people. She would know something was wrong. Her sense of duty made it so she always did her best to pay close attention to those under her protection.
As hard as it was, he had to accept that he was now an outcast. He would have to live on the run. Although at least he wasn’t completely alone.
“Where will we go?” he asked meekly.
Scott thought about it for a while. He pushed himself up and looked around until he spotted some livestock through the darkness. “For now, I say we get some food. Since we no longer have to mingle among those lowly humans, we don’t need to show restraint, either. We can gorge ourselves until we’re full. Until we’re truly strong. And then… well then we’ll show them what true fear is”. His dark silhouette against the rising moon made him look as sinister as his words sounded. It was hard to believe that someone like that had ever been human.
The rational part of Pyro was telling him to run. Scott was a dangerous being. His allegiance was as fleeting as his whims, and he’d already made it crystal clear that he would turn against him if he ever crossed him again. Being by his side wasn’t safe. And neither would be running back to town and warning all that would listen about the danger looming over them, but that at least would have been the right thing to do.
Another part of him, however, wanted nothing more than to please his Sire. He could try to fight against it, he could try to resist it, but deep down, he knew that it would always win in the end. Because Pyro had never mattered before. He’d never been someone of note. But if he followed the path that led him away from everything he’d once been, he could at least be Scott’s.