Izzy did her best to keep her face innocent beneath Trevor’s gaze, while her insides squirmed. He was smart, and she was sure he could see right through her.
She shrugged at his question, biding her time for a short second. If she brought him in on her odd encounter, there was the chance, as slim as it may be, that it could spread. Even the faintest whispered rumor tended to catch hold and explode, no matter how softly it was first spoken. Especially in halls filled with teenagers itching for gossip. And if it was something that could potentially escalate and spark Trevor’s dark subconscious again…
No. She would find out more about it, see if she could catch Riley at the abandoned school tonight and ask him, before potentially endangering anyone else.
“He just doesn’t seem like he’s doing so well. I overheard Mrs. Young talking to him about his grades slipping, and he’s been absent more than usual,” she fibbed. A guilty knot at lying to her friend formed in her stomach, especially after everything they had been through together, but, she tried to convince herself, it was for the best.

Trevor sighed, making a resigned sort of face. He didn't look up at Izzy with suspicion, but beyond that the late afternoon sun's glare on his glasses made his expression difficult to read.

"Well, if it's something urgent we can call it here for today. But you'll have to make it up to me on Monday, alright?" He looked back up at her with a teasing smile.

Izzy suppressed a relieved sigh, both because Trevor did not question her further about it, and because it meant she could get out of dealing with the student council funds. At least, for the time being.
She gave an exaggerated, playful groan. “I suppose, that’s only fair.”
She gave him a thankful smile and stood. She grabbed her backpack from where she had leaned it against one of their table’s legs, shouldered it, and headed to the door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, and glanced back at Trevor.
“See you Monday, then!” She gave him a quick wave, then entered the halls of the school.
Without a mass of students or teachers roaming about, the halls were relatively quiet as she made her way to the front doors. She had walked to school, as per her usual, so paying her home a visit first seemed a good idea so she could trade out her backpack for her bike, before heading to the abandoned school.

Izzy managed to take a single step out of the classroom, shutting the door behind her, before she heard a voice.

"What were the two of you talking about?"

Whipping around, she found herself standing face to face with Holden Sandstrom. That was not quite accurate, as he was a head taller than her, marginally taller than Trevor, and stood close enough that she was moreso staring at his neck. Looked up at him, she saw him staring down at her with an intensity that she had never before seen in his normally dreamy and vacant expression. Even so, the tense, clipped tone of his voice that she heard in the few instances that he spoke was still there. It sounded like a desire not to be noticed, even in class as he answered, "I don't know," when called upon, regardless of if he actually knew the answer.

"Never mind," he said, before Izzy could answer. "I need you to follow me. It's important, and has to do with this morning. Follow close, and don't say anything."

Without waiting for confirmation, he set out down the hallway, not looking back at Izzy.

The unexpected voice made her jump as she spun around to face whoever had spoken. She startled back at the close proximity of one Holden Sandstrom, making her tilt her neck to be capable of looking him in the eye. At least she would now not have to go on a hunt for him. And, apparently, it must have been that he was only avoiding her that day. Still, he had somehow managed to find her now.
She pointed a thumb toward the classroom’s door and opened her mouth to answer, but he interrupted before she could so much as get out the W sound of ‘We.’
At his demand, she blinked, staring after after him for a moment in surprise as he headed down the hall. Getting answers might, for once, be easier than she had anticipated. But she did not dare get her hopes up too high quite yet as she hurried to catch up to Holden, staying close behind him as he had requested. The second part of it, though, she had difficulty complying with.
“How’d you know where I was?” she asked suspiciously, keeping her voice down so it would not echo. She hoped that question, at least, would be a safe one in the open.

Holden did not answer Izzy as they walked, and in fact did not so much as twitch to acknowledge her question. After a short walk, though, he indicated to a supply closet in an out-of-the-way corner of the school. Rather that just a broom closet, things such as folding chairs and tables were stored in the rather spacious room. Close quarters, but far from uncomfortable.

"In here," he said flatly, and held the door open for her.

When Holden did not answer, Izzy’s lips pursed to one side in frustration, but she took the hint. She followed him silently, her gaze never shifting from him. He looked solid enough, as if he should have a normal weight for someone of his build, as slight as it was. She had the inexplicable desire to poke him to make sure he was as solid as he looked, or see if even a gentle touch would knock him off balance from his weightlessness, but she resisted the urge.
When he stopped to open the door to the spacious supply closet, Izzy stopped a couple paces back. She glanced between him and it, wondering if he planned on locking her inside, or to use any other supernatural abilities his condition granted him. She had no idea what she was about to walk into, but the allure of the mystery of it, and the chance she could help him pushed her forward.
She nonchalantly placed her hands in her pockets, reassuring herself she had her phone on her, just in case, so she could at least call Trevor if she did get locked in.
“Such a gentleman,” she offered him an uneasy smile as she walked into the room, then stepped to the side of the doorway, waiting for him to either follow, or slam the door in her face.

Holden stepped in after Izzy, shutting the door firmly behind himself. He turned his back to her as he locked the doorknob, making no effort to disguise this action. The only way their meeting would be interrupted would be if a janitor came by to unlock the closet. Holden didn't move from in front of the door, making a possible escape for Izzy difficult, at least without having to go through him. Even so, he stayed at his spot by the door, which was some distance from Izzy, and did not advance toward her.

He began speaking before she had a chance to pipe up, "Curiosity is like a cockroach," he began, his tone as dry as ever. "You always find it in places that you don't want to." He looked at Izzy, practically glaring at her with his deep, dark eyes. "You asked Trevor Hansen about my past. Who next? Our homeroom teacher? The school nurse? Ms. Young?" He let out an exaggerated sigh, his gaze breaking from Izzy's, as though he was immensely disappointed. "I had been very careful, but despite all of my diligence we're in the situation we're in now. There's a parable I'm reminded of; an elderly priest that prayed to God for salvation over a hundred nights, and all of his work was undone on the last night with a single fart." Despite the ridiculousness of his comparison, there was no humor in his voice. "A good name is sooner lost than won, in other words."

Holden's gaze met Izzy's again. "In any case, I will confirm now to avoid needless questions. Don't speak, and listen closely. Your suspicions are correct, I possess no weight." He paused, and then said, "That's not entirely accurate, though. I am not completely without weight. According to my build and my height, I should weigh about one-hundred-fifty pounds. However, my actual mass is around five pounds. That's what the scale says, anyway. I don't feel it. Everything feels the same to me as though I was at my proper weight."

He paused again, seeming to collect his thoughts, though his gaze lingered on Izzy. "This happened to me in the summer between the eight grade and the ninth. Not a middle schooler, not a high schooler, sort of a time of limbo. On vacation in Japan, with my mother to meet her family. I met a crab, and it plucked my weight out by the roots. It's fine if you don't understand; I don't want you to stick your nose in any further. The only person that knows about this outside of my family is my doctor, and now you, Izzy Caldwell. What should I do to ensure you never speak of this? What would make you seal your lips for an eternity, that you would swear to God in heaven that you never utter my secret to another living soul?"

Holden pulled out a knife.

Not a switchblade, or some other sort of pocket knife, but a multitool, like a swiss army knife. A three-inch-blade connected to a futher-extendable assortment of metal tools. None the less, its presence made the tension in the room thick enough to drown in.

"I didn't start with this, because I didn't want you to get the wrong idea. I'm not a violent person, but I am a desperate person. All I want is your silence, and your apathy. Don't become concerned, don't try to help, don't be my friend... Honestly, I don't even want you to fucking talk to me again after this. Do all of that for me, and that pretty face of yours will go unmarred. Now, do we have an understanding?"

Izzy warily watched Holden as he followed her and locked the door. At least it had an actual lock on the inside. She tried unsuccessfully to keep her unease from her face at being blocked from a quick getaway if she needed.
She moved her hands in her pockets so her thumbs hung just inside them. She opened her mouth to ask, “Well?” but Holden spoke before she could, her brows rising at his opening statement.
She returned his glare firmly, refusing to let him get to her. She frowned as he sighed, but he did not give her the chance to object, to assure him she had not thought about going to any of them. The fewer people involved in any way, the better. All too often, questions gave birth to suspicion.
Izzy cocked her head slightly when he looked back to her. She crossed her arms at his demand, and gave a quick nod, but his first confirmation gained him a look that said, “Tell me something I haven’t figured out.” She blinked in shock at his minimal weight, biting her tongue against asking him how that happened. Thankfully, he had the foresight to answer the unspoken question, Izzy impatiently waiting for him to continue when he paused, never looking away from him.
A slight sense of relief flooded through her; the energy Cerasus had brought with him had not been the cause of Holden’s unusual ailment.
“A crab?” she could not help but ask, making sure she had heard him correctly. That’s different. Izzy shifted her stance, leaning her weight against one foot, listening closely as he continued.
That he knew her name did not surprise her, but her back straightened and her jaw squared at his tone and rhetorical question. Her stare hardened and she moved her arms to her sides. When he reached into a pocket, she took a single step back, ready to defend herself.
Her gaze darkened as she glared at the knife he brandished, more anger than fear filling her emerald eyes at being threatened. In comparison to every other threat she had dealt with the past few months, a neigh weightless human with a three-inch pocketknife was practically laughable. But a blade was a blade, and desperation with a weapon, even a small one, was never a good combination.
She glanced between his gaze and the knife as he continued speaking, snorting lightly at him not wanting her to get the wrong idea. She scowled when he finished, finally giving her the chance to answer.
“Keeping a secret’s no problem,” she began, her voice as hard as her gaze, her muscles tense and ready to react if he decided to come at her. “And if you don’t want me to be your friend, then fine. But I don’t do apathy. I can help you, Holden. I know a thing or two about the strange and unexplainable. Trust me on that. So how about you put that,” she jerked her head at the multitool, “away, and we'll figure this out together?”

Holden's gaze faltered for a moment, but then resumed his glare directed at Izzy. "Spare me your cheap pity. What could you possibly do? All I need is for you to shut your mouth and not pay me any further mind." He seemed to struggle for something to say for a moment, before nearly blurting, "Kindness can also be a form of hostility." He took a deep breath, collecting himself, and continued, "I don't want to, but if you defy me, I'll go to war over this."

Though his gaze was hard as steel, his fear showed through in other ways. The twitch at the corners of his mouth, the sweat beading on his forehead. He wasn't kidding when he said he was desperate, and this was certainly showing through. It was deeply sad, in a way, how alone he was and how little he understood. Izzy had been just like him, before, completely lost in a world she had no comprehension of. Just her and the demon on her back.

When he finished, Izzy stared at Holden for a long moment in silence, a mix of understanding and pity in her eyes. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other in debate. She glanced once more between Holden’s gaze and his small weapon, before she settled on him.
“Look. I get that it’s hard to believe, but…” She took a deep breath of her own and slowly reached up. She gripped the collar of her jacket, its sleeves rolled up to her elbows. She pulled it down to reveal the bite marks ever at the base of her neck, her gaze never leaving his, watching for his reaction. “I know exactly what it’s like to be effected by the supernatural. And I might have a way to help you with your problem.”

Holden must have been feeling greatly more stressed than his subtle tells let on, as even Izzy's small, harmless movement of pulling her jacket to the side triggered a reaction from him. He brandished his knife at her, holding it out with two shaking hands in a posture that was neither definitively offensive or defensive. His gaze darted between her face and her scars, his expression tightening as he visibly processed this information. The knife was really not a great threat, if Izzy was thought about it. While getting stabbed in the gut or slashed in the face would be a serious wound, a little nick with that would heal in less than a minute.

"I don't know what that's supposed to prove," Though he had just shown how jumpy he was, his voice remained surprisingly level, as though he was still in command of the situation. "You're wearing my patience thin."

Izzy let the collar of her jacket fall back into place. She glanced between Holden's face and the knife once more, chewing on the inside of her cheek. She looked to the shelves lining a wall at his need for proof, searching it for the span of a quick glance, but everything rested in labeled tubs, preventing her from quickly grabbing anything she could use to utilize her quick healing to prove she, too, had a supernatural connection. Trying would risk him stopping her, or running out. Instead, her gaze settled back on his knife.
If he wanted hard proof, then he would get it. Either by her hand, or his.
Doubting he would give her the knife freely, even if she asked nicely, she sighed, then took a deep breath as she looked him in the eye. “Then how about you give me the stupid knife before you hurt yourself with it?” She closed the space between them in a quick leap, watching Holden and the blade carefully as she reached for his wrist to try wrenching the small weapon from him, without potentially hurting him in the process.

As much as Izzy probably expected he would have, Holden reacted quite poorly to her sudden attempt to seize his knife away from him. He lashed out at her, not in any kind of fluid or deliberate motion, but a twitchy, jerking motion that was likely almost entirely reflex. Being in such close quarters, his blade struck flesh, and cut a shallow line across Izzy's palm. A few drops of blood landed on the floor, but the wound had hardly been deep enough for any to remain on the blade.

"Now look what you've done, you-" Holden began to admonish her, clearly flustered, but his words trailed off as he looked back at the wound he had inflicted on her.

The thin cut on her palm was healing before his very eyes. Already as he finished speaking its ends had narrowed and sealed into fresh, healthy skin, and the wound shrank in length at the same rate that a hazy sunset disappeared behind the horizon. He watched, utterly transfixed as the wound vanished entirely, Izzy's blood having long since evaporated from the floor. His knife clattered to the floor as he lost the strength in his arms, still agog.

"How..." His strength in his legs seemed to leave him then, as he collapsed onto his hands and knees. "How did you..."



Holden had been a bit more willing to listen to reason after that. Now believing Izzy's claim that she could help him, he wasn't openly hostile, but he was still far from friendly or trusting. It took a bit more cajoling for Izzy to convince him to pay a visit to a friend of hers: Mohe Riley. The abandoned school was a twenty-minute ride away by bike, and Holden's means of transportation was typically the bus. As such, he'd been forced to hitch a ride on the back of Izzy's bike. An act that he found demeaning and emasculating, as he loudly complained of such to Izzy for the entire ride. Despite his protests, it wasn't a burden on Izzy to pedal for both of them; he didn't weigh anything, after all.

Eventually they reached the school that Riley was squatting in. Danger. Do not enter. Private property. The usual signs hung outside, but Izzy paid them no mind, and seemingly neither did Holden. He surveyed the school from the outside with a clearly wary expression, though what he could glean from his examination that wasn't already obvious, Izzy wasn't sure.

"So this... Riley person. He was kind of an interesting name; it sound sort of... cute? Maybe kitschy is a better word. Is he a cute, kitschy person?"

Despite the fact that he was neither of those things, Izzy could only wonder how these two would interact once they met. She had only won Holden over with her little parlor trick, but Riley had no such grounds to be believed. And even then, his typical tricks were not the type that inspired trust. If Holden got the wrong idea, she could have a mess on her hands. It would probably be best to diffuse the situation before it began. Namely if he had any more knives hidden on him, to start.

Izzy hissed at the sting of the knife slicing a thin line across her palm, instead of her grabbing him. She pulled back instinctively, and took a step away as Holden realized what had happened.
Mission accomplished, she held out her uninjured hand toward Holden to interrupt him, the injured one held with the wound toward him for him to see as the sting of the wound faded as quickly as it had come. “Shut up and watch!”
She observed his expression intently as the small wound healed in the fashion she had grown used to seeing. Her gaze shifted only when he dropped his knife, her eyes following it before quickly looking back to Holden.
She offered a small, almost smug smile. “Told you I know what it's like.”
Izzy’s eyes widened for a second in surprise and she staggered back a step when he unexpectedly fell to the floor.
Once he managed to get most of his unfinished question out, she shrugged her backpack from her shoulders and sat on the floor in front of him, placing the bag beside her.
“Did you hear the rumor that circulated just before summer break about a vampire lurking about?” She crossed her legs beneath her, and did not wait for him to answer before continuing. “Well, it wasn’t a rumor.” She paused, thinking for a short moment on how much she wanted to tell him, and how she should say it. “And I ended up smack-dab in the middle of a mess it created. Someone helped me out of it,” Multiple someones, really, she added silently, “but it still left a couple side effects behind.” She flexed her hand, rubbing her fingers over the healed flesh of her palm. “It’s that someone I think could help you. If you’ll just trust me for a couple hours or so.”


Though with no small amount of persuasion, Izzy was glad when she managed to talk Holden into coming with her to see Riley. Even though it meant he would have to ride on the back of her bike. At least he did not weigh much, so it took little extra effort to get them both to the abandoned school. At first, she worried he might not be capable of staying on, but his unrelenting complaining soon made her have to use every ounce of her willpower to keep from pushing him off the bike.
When they finally neared the abandoned school, she did not think she had ever been more relieved to see it. Its presence even put a pause in Holden’s complaints.
She sniggered at the idea of ‘cute’ describing Riley. “I wouldn’t say cute, but he seems to think so," she began lightheartedly. “Kitschy sounds about right, though.”
She brought the bike to a halt near the chained front doors of the school and waited for Holden to hop off before dismounting. She kicked out the kickstand of the bike and leaned it against it before turning to Holden, blocking his direct path to the school. She looked him over contemplatively.
“Do me a favor and turn out your pockets.” She crossed her arms. “The last thing I need is you threatening Riley with another pocket knife or something. I doubt that’d end well for any of us.”

Izzy's request for Holden to turn over any knives he may still have on him wasn't met with any sort of haste. He looked at her warily, perhaps studying her expression for any signs of intent. His gaze was as oppressive as ever, almost accusatory. Finally he glanced away, sighing deeply and seemingly settling into oblige her request. Izzy couldn't help but sense a distinct note of hurt in his sigh. Had she offended him in some way?

"Very well." He said, below his breath.

Holden emptied his pockets, rolled down his sleeves, unhooked a few items from the inside of his waistband, and even pulled something out from his sock. After having collected several Swiss army knives, pen knives, multitools, and even a spring-loaded comb, he dumped them all into Izzy's hands. He didn't complain as he did this, but his expression was still quite sour.

"There, are you satisfied?" He said, that strange tone of unhappiness still in his voice. "Look after them, I'll expect them back." He glanced up toward the building for a moment, before looking back at Izzy and saying, "I don't know what you've heard, but I'm my family isn't as wealthy as you might think. I'm really not worth committing a crime over."

Holden’s hesitance made Izzy suspect that he did, in fact, have another knife on him. She returned his stare firmly, waiting. When he looked away, a mix of confusion and curiosity flashed over her face at his reaction. When he spoke, as quiet as the words were, she stood a bit straighter and uncrossing her arms, watching him carefully as he reached for whatever hidden weapon he had.
But she was far from prepared for the sheer number of them he began pulling from his various hiding places. Her mouth opened slightly, and her brows rose upward, impossibly rising further when he handed them over. She only just managed to keep from dropping them.
“Uh…” she responded to his question, glancing between her armful of weapons, and Holden. “Didn’t forget any, did you?” she asked sarcastically as she bent down to place them on the ground and shrug out of her backpack once more. She looked to him when his gaze shifted to her, but did not pause as she placed the arsenal safely in her pack.
Izzy shrugged at his statement about his wealth. “I don’t care about your money.” She zipped up her backpack. “And the only crime I plan on committing today is trespassing on government property. Which, I might add,” she stood and glanced toward the nearest ‘Keep Out’ sign, “you’re also doing.” She slung a single strap over a shoulder. “All I care about is getting you back to normal. I get this whole thing's probably a bit, well..." She glanced behind her to the decrepit school with a tight-lipped smile, trying to look at the situation from Holden's perspective. "Shady, to say the least. But I'm not going to kidnap or kill you or something. So c’mon, worry wort.” She jerked her head toward the school and started heading toward the doors. “Unless you want to pass up the opportunity to possibly get your weight back.”

Holden looked at Izzy pensively, and said only, "Regardless, I have people waiting on my word if I do not return. As do you, I'm sure. Two little brothers if I recall correctly." It wasn't a threat, but it wasn't a joke, either. Holden clearly was far from trusting her entirely.

The two continued into the building. At this point, Izzy had visited so many times to feed the vampire child that she had worked out something like an algorithm for determining where Riley was at any given time. It was basically a route she took through the first and second floors that allowed her to scope out his most common hiding places without any unnecessary backtracking.

Holden piped up, "He sure lives in a dump. Are you even sure he's here? Maybe we should have called ahead."

Despite his doubts, Izzy was able to find him on the second floor. Riley sat cross-legged on an assortment of desks that had been pushed together, with even more stacked behind him in a rough, teetering pile. That hadn't been there when Izzy had last visited, so she could only assume he assembled it out of boredom. It was strange though, as the large backdrop of desks framing him made it almost look like he was sitting on some sort of throne.

"Ah, Izzy, good to see you." He greeted her pleasantly as she walked in. Eyeing Holden as he entered after her, a mischievous look crossed his face. "Oho, you've brought a new boy with you today. It's odd that I never see you with the same one twice." He looked to Holden with his usual enigmatic smile as he introduced himself. "I'm Mohe Riley, but just call me Riley."

Unperturbed by Riley's appearance and his sleazy jokes, Holden boldly strode up to the man and shook his hand. "Holden Sandstrom. It's a pleasure to meet you." He spoke courteously, but stiffly, like he was meeting his father's boss or something. "I'm Izzy's classmate, she told me about you."

Not saying anything to Holden at this point, he looked at Izzy and plainly asked, "Izzy, do you have a thing for tall boys with dark hair? I can dye mine if you want." He chuckled to himself, obviously having fun at her expense.

Izzy’s back stiffened slightly when Holden mentioned her brothers. Though not a threat, he had apparently done his research on her. She nodded, sparing only a partial glance behind her to him.
Inside, she led him through the halls, glancing into the rooms as she passed, the action almost habitual. When Holden broke the relative silence of the abandoned school, she gave a frustrated sighed.
“No, I’m not sure,” she answered, looking into another room Riley tended to favor before moving on. “And I would have if I had a means of long-distance contact. But I don’t.”
Thankfully, the trip to the school proved it would not be a waste. When at last she found Riley, she stepped inside and took a short moment to take in the structure he had made out of the desks.
“Hey, Riley,” she responded to his greeting. “Get bored, or should I start calling you the King of Decaying Crayons?” She gestured toward the pile of desks around him, amusement on her face as Holden entered behind her.
She sighed and rolled her eyes good-naturedly at Riley’s statement about bringing Holden, and stood aside so the boy could get a clear view of Riley.
“Riley, this is—” Before she could introduce him, Holden went up to Riley and introduced himself. Or, you know, that works.
When Riley addressed her instead of Holden’s formalities, she glared at him. “Do, and I swear I’ll shave it off while you’re sleeping.” She slipped a thumb beneath her backpack’s strap, her glare fading. “Besides, it’s more like the supernatural has a thing for me. Holden has a bit of a weight problem. Thanks to a crab.” She glanced to him, unsure if he would care that she brought it up first. “I figured who better to go to for help with that than the all-knowing Mohe Riley?”

As Izzy and Riley bantered, Holden's gaze seemed to have slipped somewhere else in the room. Eventually he made this apparent, and brought his findings to the attention of the other two people in the room. He pointed at the corner of the room opposite from the door they entered in, and nudged Izzy to get her attention.

"I have a question," he said, in his normal, dry, and unconcerned tone, "What is that?"

The object of his attention was, of course, the vampire child slumped into the corner of the room. A thin, pale boy clad in a ripped and dirty dress shirt, and a vintage football helmet that slumped down over his face. Small curls of soft, blond hair peeked out under the edges of the helmet, and his eyes were barely visible from the angle Holden and Izzy could see him from. He stared blankly into space, one of his default expressions in a list that included glaring hollowly at Izzy and hypnotically staring at Riley.

Izzy couldn't help but notice that Holden had asked "what" the child was, and not "who." He was alarmingly perceptive, Izzy realized at that moment. A less perceptive person might not have noticed the child at all, but Holden did, and ascertained that it was something supernatural almost immediately. Just like Trevor, he had a dangerous intelligence to him. Not dangerous for other so much, but more for himself, as he knew and understood too much for his own good. She could only hope that this issue would have as few complications as possible despite that, unlike how the issue with Trevor a month back had developed.