A hint of concern settled in Izzy’s eyes when Riley cracked his back. At least he had apparently mostly recovered from his own encounters with the Wolf. She nodded and watch him head toward an unblocked window, its glass long since shattered and boards pried off.
“Thanks for the suggestions,” she said just before he glanced back, avoiding any form of the word ‘help.’ Though it was infuriating—and terrifying—that she would have to go it alone, he had had at least, in his own way, helped.
She nodded stiffly at his parting words, unsure if he saw the action before he disappeared. If it came to that, to her life or Trevor’s, could she—would she—willingly take him out to saver her own skin? She bit her lower lip.
She took a deep, steadying breath. That was a problem she could worry about later. Right now, she needed to figure out the how, where, and what. She had the Aberration Slayer, but she needed a backup plan, in case Riley was right, and it failed her. What remained of the school’s playground might work for the where, with the few bits of weathered equipment that remained. Perhaps those could even be used against the Wolf, if needed, and there had to be something around the school she could round up to use. After all, the only people who may miss anything from either place were taggers. As for luring the Wolf to the abandoned school…
Izzy took her phone from her jeans’ pocket, ignoring the late hour that flashed up on the screen before she unlocked it. Maybe she would get lucky, and he would check his phone. Perhaps a distress message would get his attention.
She went to the messages between Trevor and her still in the folder. If, say, she was to play that what she had done to Cerasus was slowly wearing off, perhaps it would appeal both to Trevor to come to her as a friend in need, while the potential threat of two vampires getting in the Wolf’s way would make it want to show up as well.
Then, of course, there was being capable of keeping up with it in the first place. That was the first thing she needed to figure out. Before scavenging. Before messaging Trevor. She doubted there was any trap she could set up, any plans she could make without getting herself killed in a fraction of a second without being at least close to equal with its strength and speed.
Izzy looked to the vampire’s corner, running a hand through the lose portion of her hair. At least the turning point would be obvious. However, she had no idea what he, in turn, would become strong enough to do. But her only other options were to leave the Wolf to wreak havoc as it willed in her friend's body, or become dog chow.
For Trevor, she thought, exhaling slowly. And the hundreds of others the Wolf would attack, otherwise.
She unwound the flowing fabric of the scarf from her neck, placed it on the desk behind the sword, then, holding her breath, stepped to the vampire child.
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” Izzy said, trying to keep a quiver and her uncertainty from leaking into her voice as she sat down beside him as she had so many times before. Her heart pounded quicker in her chest at the thought of everything that could go wrong, starting with this step one. “I have a White Wolf to deal with.”

The vampire child climbed into her lap as he usually did, noticeably more compliant than usual, and latched onto his familiar spot on her neck. He nursed the blood from her at his usual pace, evidently not in any hurry, and Izzy sat still, not wanting to disturb him as he fed. The usual amount of time that she allowed him to draw blood from her came and passed, and she let him sit and continue to drink.

Eventually, though, she was able to notice the subtle differences that began to take hold. While he had drained at least a pint of blood from her by now, she didn't feel dizzy or light-headed as she would have expected. She assumed this was because her regeneration was keeping pace with the blood she was losing. As well, the child seemed somewhat heavier in her lap. Measuring him by putting her arms around him, she figured that since they had sat down, he had probably gained about five pounds, and grown older by a year or two. It seemed odd to her at first that for so much time he had changed so little, but in realizing that she figured that as the "balance" changed (as Riley described it), it would turn in his favor at an exponential pace rather than a linear one.

With a small amount of panic, she pushed the child off, forcing him to release his fangs from her neck. He looked up at her somewhat indignantly, and returned to his corner to continue moping. He didn't look much different, only a bit bigger and a bit older as Izzy had expected. Boys grew up more slowly than girls, after all. As for Izzy herself... she didn't feel terribly different. The room seemed a bit less dark, and she wasn't quite as tired as she had been from a day spent kneeling and begging. It would have to do for now. Perhaps at another time she could experiment with this more, but she couldn't risk two crises at once right now.

Panic still tightening her chest, Izzy watched the child sulk back to his corner. She stood and glanced around the room, glad the ill effects of losing blood did not apply to her in this instance. But the question then became, by how much had her abilities increased?
She looked to her hand and flexed her fingers as if it would offer a simple answer.
“Okay,” she breathed heavily. Tugging the hem of her shirt down, she went to the desk with the flashlight. She grabbed it and clicked it off. She blinked in the darkness that flooded around her, taking advantage of the absence of their adversary.
Though she could see better in the dark room, it was by no means enough to be very encouraging. With her mouth pursed in uncertainty, she clicked the light back on. Sparing the sword a quick glance as if to reassure herself it had not disappeared in the couple moments of darkness, she left the room to search for anything that could be of potential use. Even if whatever she found would be good for only a single strike against the White Wolf, if she was lucky, at least it would be something.
Testing her speed, she ran through the halls. As far Izzy could tell, she was moving a bit faster, but by how much, she could not say for sure. She could only hope it would be fast enough.
As quickly as she could, she began gathering a few things she hoped could be of use to her should the sword fail. Tying and weaving a few lengthy wires together, she created what she hoped could potentially be used to trip the Wolf up if she concealed it well enough. And if it did not just snap.
She stopped near the front doors with their broken chain and lock, grabbing the longest strand of intact chain. She pulled it taut, trying to pry the links apart to test the chain’s strength, as well as her own. She felt them bend slightly, but they did not break. Not sure if that worried or satisfied her, she coiled it over her arm alongside the length of electrical wire, then collected bits of desk legs and broken pipes that had rusted away, leaving a sharp point on at least one end.
Once she had her arms full, juggling various items while keeping hold of her flashlight, Izzy went out to the playground.
Located behind the school, it was in just as bad disrepair as she remembered it, if not worse. Ivy strangled the rusting monkey bars. The dilapidated equipment that had been forgotten by the city sat as dark, forlorn shapes in the night. Weeds and grass overdo to be cut burst from between the cracked cement and licked at the base of what equipment remained like the earth’s version of flames.
She dumped her load onto the ground, then clicked her light off. Though the moon was scarcely a sliver, she could see fairly well by the light radiating from the nearby town. At least sufficient lighting would not be a problem she would have to tackle when going against the White Wolf.
She set to strategically placing her pickings about the area, hiding them where she could while keeping them easily accessible. She dropped the chain on the ground near the skeleton of a swing set, the rusted links fitting in with the rest of the rotting playground, then tied her strand of wire as high as she dared between the monkey bars and what remained of a dome climber. As far as she could tell, the tall grass sprouting between them hid the wires well.
Trying to not think about what these poor excuses of weapons could potentially do to Trevor, she tried to focus instead on how she could bring down the Wolf. If Trevor was still in there somewhere, perhaps she could appeal to him. Perhaps he could fight against the Wolf’s influence, if she could only get through to him.
The uncertainty of it all made her stomach churn.
She headed back to the school and hurried into the vampire child’s current classroom. She went to the sword, and gripped its handle with an unsteady hand.
This’ll work, she tried to reassure herself. This will work.
Taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment, she picked up the sword then stepped to the doorway, her legs moving slower from the weight of her worries and fear. She tried to push aside the doubts hanging thick around her. She had to do this. At last, she had found something she could do to help Trevor, something to return the sacrifices her friend had made for her, no matter what had driven him to it.
With her flashlight still in hand, she paused in the doorway, hanging her head. She closed her eyes for a moment as she took another breath, then tilted her head toward the vampire child’s corner.
“Thank you,” she began, her voice stiff. Her tone loosened, growing sincerer as she continued. “I know how much this sword must mean to you.” She turned to better face him. “I’ll take care of it, and make sure I bring it back. Safe and sound.”
Not expecting any kind of answer, Izzy disappeared into the shadows of the hallways.
She returned to the playground. Scanning it, she went to a spot almost at the center of her layout of hidden makeshift weapons, then carefully concealed the sword beneath a pile of rocks and weeds. She practiced drawing it from the hiding place a few times, then knelt down within arm’s reach of it. She licked her lips then bit the bottom one as she pulled her phone from her pocket.
This was it. It was time to try to draw Trevor and the Wolf to her. Her shaking thumbs making it difficult to type, she went to his contact and started a new message:


Swallowing hard, Izzy hit the send button. She watched the message until her phone got a moment of service, and it sent. Replacing the phone in her pocket with a quaking hand, she wrapped her arms tightly around her torso and closed her eyes, listening to the night, waiting for any unusual sound, any sign that the Wolf and Trevor had taken the bait.

Half an hour was all it took. After standing around in the relative cold of the dark, summer night for only thirty minutes, Izzy was given the first sign that he plan was beginning to work. Screaming in from the sky above her, a humanlike shape crashed into the ground. Having leaped off of the school building behind her, it actually tore through the dilapidated monkey bars before it hit the ground, twisting them into a knotted wreck of metal. Sliding across the ground from momentum, the White Wolf had arrive. White hair, black briefs, barefoot, beast's ears, the whole show.

"Izzy, are you alright?" However, it was Trevor that looked up at her.

The yellow eyes had not changed, but there was a world of difference in his expression. All of the care and kindness in Trevor's gaze had returned, and the threatening smugness that the Wolf usually possessed was gone. Glancing about the playground, suspicion grew in his glimmering eyes, and he stood up straight, not looking at Izzy.

"You tricked me. You lied and made me worry. That's not a good thing to do."

Every second that ticked by only made Izzy’s concern grow. What if he did not show? What if he did, but only the White Wolf was in control, Trevor too far gone? What if she failed him?
She shook her head, doing her best to force her mind to remain blank, or to focus only on the task at hand, not the emotions involved. Alas, she only succeeded in keeping her thoughts at bay for mere seconds at a time.
But she did not have as long as she expected to worry about drowning in her fears and “What ifs.”
Her eyes snapped open at the whistle of a body sailing through the sky. She had barely begun to jump to her feet from the cross-legged position she had shifted into and spin around before the squealing crunch of the Wolf colliding into the monkey bars filled the night. She gasped and staggered back as the Wolf easily untangled itself from the mass of metal that had become the monkey bars. She spared a quick glance to where she had tied her wire, hoping that one rod had not bent far enough to effect it or make it more visible, but did not dare let her gaze linger.
Every muscle tense and ready for action as adrenaline rushed through her, she watched with bated breath as the wolf slid to a stop not far from her. But it was not the Wolf’s cold stare that looked up at her. A small sliver of relief settled in her; Trevor really was still there.
She felt her heart quicken from nerves as he glanced around the playground, then spoke again. Could he see everything she had hidden?
“I-I’m sorry, Trevor.” She forced her hands to relax at her side, her eyes pleading for him to understand, to maintain control over his own mind and body. “It was the only thing I thought would reach you now. I need to talk to you.” She shook her head, her eyes on his, hoping against hope it would not come down to a fight between her and the Wolf. “It wasn’t entirely a lie. I do need you. Not the White Wolf, but you, Trevor. I don’t know how it’s doing what it’s doing, but you need to fight it! Sever the link it’s made. Something! It’s hurting people through you.” She subconsciously rubbed the arm the Wolf had torn off. “People have ended up in the hospital because of what it's done. Please, Trevor. I don’t know if it’s possible, but you need to try!”

Trevor continued to look at the ground, white hair hanging in front of his face like a veil. He breathed out heavily, what could have been a sigh. His posture tightened strangely, as though he was bracing himself, but he instead shivered. It wasn't the cold that affected him, Izzy could tell that much. Eventually, he relaxed, and looked back up at Izzy. While it wasn't the Wolf that was looking at her, it didn't seem like Trevor, either. There was a coldness in his gaze, a stark lack of guilt, empathy, passion, or any emotions at all. Izzy realized, then, that this was the side of Trevor that she had never seen before, always covered by his desire to be normal.

"You don't understand, Izzy. I want this."

All of the pieces fell into place at that moment. It wasn't that part of his consciousness remained; he had never left. A dual personality? There was only one the entire time. There was no dark side, and no light side. It was Trevor the entire time, every evil deed and violent prank. Something that he had did, himself.

Just as in the tale of the White Wolf, he had never been replaced.

If you looked carefully, the ghost had been curtains in the wind all along.

Izzy watched him closely, raising her hands defensively in front of her when Trevor’s posture tensed, ready to go for the sword. But then he shivered. When at last he looked back to her, she met his gaze, the gaze of neither the Wolf, nor the Trevor she knew.
His next words made her blood run cold. Her face paled as it all sunk in; the Wolf had simply touched him. Trevor had done the rest of his own free will.
She inhaled a tremulous breath, and shook her head in denial. “You don’t mean that,” she whispered. “You’re better than this, Trevor. I’ve seen that. I’m so sorry I let you get involved in all this. If I hadn’t…” She exhaled heavily, and scrunched her eyes shut for a short second before looking back to him. Guilt and blame would get her nowhere right now.
“I get that you’ve been through a lot of crap. More than your fair share. But if you don’t stop, you’re no better than the people who have abused you. You'll be the monster. Whatever’s going on that makes you think you want to hurt people, you can work through it another way.” She risked taking half a step closer to him. “And I’ll be here to help you however I can. Just stop this. I don’t want to see anyone else get hurt. Especially not you.”

Trevor snarled, gritting his sharp, bestial teeth and his entire body tensing up. "I don't want you to pity me," he said, barely above a growl. "You really are the worst, Izzy." Looking up at her, the sclera of his eyes had gone from white to black, giving him an utterly inhuman gaze. His fingers curled like talons, with black claws sprouting from where his fingernails should have been. It seemed that his lucidity was failing fast, and Izzy needed to act quickly before this got out of hand.

Startled, Izzy inhaled sharply and backed off when Trevor snarled, fear in her eyes. She stepped so she stood beside the sword’s hiding place, the hilt obscured by a tangle of weeds. She was losing him. Even if everything he had done was of his choosing, his appearance was enough to show there was still something supernatural going on. Perhaps the sword could sever it, whatever “it” was. At the very least, she had to try.
“Okay,” she said softly, raising her hands in front of her and crouching down as if in an attempt to seem less antagonizing, being more at his eye-level rather than standing over him, the hidden sword to her left. She swallowed. “I’m sorry, Trevor.”
As quickly as she could, she pulled the Aberration Slayer easily from its hiding place, a few rocks and broken bits of concrete thumping back to the earth in her haste. She lunged at him, the longsword held in both hands, its blade aimed for Trevor.

As soon as Izzy drew the sword, the eyes of the monster in front of her (was it the Wolf? Trevor? Did it matter anymore?) widened in shock, but quickly narrowed into a murderous glare. Just as Izzy lunged, it too made its move against Izzy, striking with such speed that she was barely even able to track with her eyes. As it came into the range of the blade, Izzy was just able to slash it from shoulder to hip. Whether it was by pure luck, the monster's overconfidence, or by some grace of the vampire blood in her, Izzy was unable to say. The blow was shallow, but she had struck it, and the slightest amount of relief settled into Izzy as she felt the blade make contact.

However, that relief lasted perhaps the smallest amount of time that she was mentally able to comprehend. The aberration's advance was not halted by her blow, its momentum carrying forward its attack. It slashed at her with its clawed hand, the speed and strength of the blow feeling like a gale-force wind. An excruciating pain bloomed across Izzy's abdomen, and she was set flying back dozens of feet, eventually smacking into the outside wall of the school building.

As soon as her vision had stopped blurring, Izzy was able to see two things. In front of her there seemed to be two figures, one sprawled on the ground, and one standing over it. However, she squinted to focus at the scene, and the sight was an alarming one. The prone figure was the aberration, writhing on the ground and clutching its torso, obviously wracked in pain. The standing figure was not a person at all. They were Izzy's legs, still standing, as the muscles and tendons had locked from sheer shock. Looking down at herself, Izzy saw that the aberration had savagely cut her in half at the waist, and a tremendous trail of blood and organs spanned the distance between her and her disembodied legs.

Shock was setting in quickly, and the pool of blood under her was growing rapidly. However, there was practically nothing she could do. The pain was so great and the wound so severe, she was practically paralyzed where she laid, propped up against the side of the school. Her legs eventually toppled over, and the aberration continued to roll around in agony, mewling incoherently. There was no visible wound that Izzy could see, but this was natural. The Aberration Slayer had cut the aberration, not Trevor. To that extent, at least, her plan had succeeded. Perhaps it was worth it. Perhaps she had saved Trevor, and dying for his sake had made it worthwhile.

However, something wasn't right. The Wolf's anguished cries turned to screams, and then to roars. An unstable power seemed to surround it, as far as Izzy could sense. Much like a candle burning brighter the moment before it is snuffed out, the Wolf was giving its all into one last, defiant act. Even when dying, it was still an aberration, and it was tearing Trevor's human mind apart. Their union had begun to malfunction.

Trevor's scream began to mingle with the roar of the Wolf, overlapping, synchronizing. Focusing as hard as she could to see the scene, Izzy saw something that defied explanation. The Wolf itself was manifesting physically, but only as much of it that had been cut apart from Trevor. Fur had grown up along his extremities, and his hair had grown out into a long, dense mane. Emerging from his chest as though it were bursting out from within him was the Wolf itself, a spectral canine form that gnashed its fangs and howled defiantly, giving Trevor the disturbing approximation of having two heads. This wasn't right at all. The plan had all gone wrong, and Izzy was already dying, with nothing she could do about it.

"Foolish servant. If you cut the power, of course the machine will break."

Izzy had an auditory hallucination, presumably from her pain and blood loss. A hallucination in which he rebuked her. Hallucination had to be correct, as in that moment Izzy noticed that the vampire child had abruptly appeared standing before her. So suddenly had he appeared, that the question was not how long he had been there, but if he even was there. Such was the indefinite nature of aberrations. But he didn't speak, even now. This bedeviling child, the shadow of the former Cerasus Orion Damocles, wouldn't possibly speak to her.

"What an absurd use for my prized blade. You have made a beef brisket of this aberration. It makes me laugh."

Perhaps the hallucination would have continued, but the child suddenly plucked off his own left arm. As if pulling the arm off of a toy. Of course, he was not a toy, so his red blood flowed out in a tremendous amount, and he splashed Izzy with it like a priest sprinkling holy water. There is healing power in vampire blood, and so in a miraculous manner, Izzy's lower body and legs grew back out from underneath her. Her clothes even wove themselves over her regenerated flesh, as the half-corpse she left a few yards away evaporated into thin air. Izzy realized then that this was the extent to which she had returned the child's power. Cerasus had always been leagues more powerful than her, and so even a fractional return of that power was still immense.

"Same as ever, you can only see what's in front of your eyes. You've forced me to live, servant, don't think that I'll let you die."

The child stuck its arm back in place, again like putting a toy back together, and took the blade that had been clutched in Izzy's hand.

"I will show you how it is done. This is how you use the Aberration Slayer."

The vampire child strode up to the howling Wolf, silent as ever, but with all of the bearing of a king. He looked somewhat absurd with the blade twice as tall as he was, but handled it with the utmost confidence. The Wolf was much to preoccupied with its own troubles to notice him much, and so put up no resistance when the child skewered it through the chest, stabbing the Wolf's emerging form straight through the mouth. He pushed the blade further, pinning Trevor's body to the ground with the sword, like a butterfly in a display case. The utterly trapped abberation could do nothing as the child latched onto its neck, digging his fangs into Trevor's flesh. The Wolf attempted to drain the child's power, but it sucked all of the Wolf's energy right back. They attempted to devour each other, but in comparing the small-fry Wolf to the King of Aberrations, there was no contest.

The white fur along his limbs and the wolf growing out of Trevor's chest disappeared as the White Wolf, and the Wolf alone, was devoured. It was being absorbed by the vampire child. The embodiment of Trevor's stress was being absorbed. White hair turned back, fangs and claws and dog-ears disappeared, and Trevor was left lying on the ground as though he had fallen asleep in his underwear. As soon as the Wolf had disappeared fully, the vampire child disappeared with his sword, as though neither of them had ever been there.

Despite her returned lower body, Izzy had still lost a great amount of blood, and her consciousness was fading. As her world was growing black, she noticed a man standing over her. Weird smell, sandals, it was Riley. He picked her up in his arms, carrying her like a child, and spoke to her gently.

"There, there, let's get you home. I'll take care of the rest, just sleep. Everything is gonna be just fine."

However, with the last of her awareness before blacking out, she heard Trevor mumble, as though he was talking in his sleep, "No, none of this is fine." Trevor was right, as always.



Izzy awoke in her bed, the same as always, with her brothers roughhousing downstairs. Alive, intact, and while considerably groggy, none worse for the wear despite her flirtations with death. Even so, she could not yet relax, as there were a great number of loose ends she needed to tie up.

In the split second it took for the blade to meet Wolf and claws meet flesh, Izzy knew two things: first, that her abilities had not been enhanced nearly enough to pose any kind of major threat to the White Wolf, and second, a searing, agonizing pain as the Wolf’s strength sent her soaring into the crumbling wall of the school.
Flashes of white burst over her vision when she smacked into the stone. With a trembling groan, she slid down the wall to the ground amidst weeds, rocks, and bits of broken building, her upper back propped awkwardly against the wall. She had somehow managed to keep a hold of the sword, its hilt held loosely in her right hand. Her teeth grit hard and each quick exhale a pained moan, she tried to force herself to focus. If the wound she had dealt the Wolf did not work, it could be readying its next attack.
But the sight that met her once the fuzzy haze of agony cleared enough for her make it out made an icy chill seep through her body. What was left of it, at least. She stared, horrified, at Trevor’s writhing form and the pair of legs—her legs—not far from him. She did not need to look down to know what she would see. They had not evaporated, and the agony blazing its way through her from waist up was enough to tell her that her healing abilities had not increased enough to save her. But her plan seemed to have worked, and that was what mattered. He had risked his life for her. The least she could do was the same, even if it meant she lost hers in the process.
Until everything went even more wrong.
Her breathing ragged and heart pounding erratically in her throat, she draped a shaking arm just above the severed part of her body, thick, warm blood instantly coating her skin. Fighting against the darkness lurking at the edges of her swirling vision, her sight blurring in and out, she watched with confused terror as the Wolf began to manifest itself, Trevor’s cries mingling with the Wolf’s howls.
“No,” she rasped out between her teeth, a bitter metallic taste in her mouth.
Whatever she had done to the Wolf, she had not killed it. She had only made things worse, and there was nothing she could do but watch until the last of her life drained from her. The last thing she would see, she feared, before Death came to collect her was the Wolf’s triumph. Her head thunked back against the school’s wall, her neck tiring of holding it up.
Then came the impossible voice, echoing in her head. In the partial second between another bout of hazy vision and relative clarity, the vampire child stood over her. She blinked a couple times, unsure if he was really there, or a figment of her imagination. It took her muddled brain longer than it should have to register what he said, if he was even speaking at all. She tried to speak after the second time she thought she heard him, to ask a simple, “What?” but only a pained whimper came out in place of words, her lips too weak along with the rest of her to work properly.
There was no way he was really there, but when the pain ebbed and her lower half regrew, her body healed by his blood, there was no denying it. While his words may have been a hallucination, the vampire child was, in fact, there. When he took the sword, the back of her hand against the ground, her fingers curled around the empty air.
When he turned to Trevor and the Wolf, Izzy tried to make herself stand, but her limbs felt like they weighed thousands of pounds. A leg twitched, as if it thought about obeying, but had changed its mind. Though the pain had stopped, the darkness creeping around her vision threatened to take over, her world still seeming to spin as she watched the child drain the Wolf’s life, then disappear.
At last, it was over. She swallowed hard and closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, the unfocused form of Riley stood over her. The world around her felt a million miles away. Only vaguely aware as he picked her up, she groaned, his voice as distant in her ears as the schoolyard seemed.
The sound of Trevor’s voice followed her into unconsciousness, her body falling completely limp in Riley’s arms.


The familiar din of her brothers broke through the darkness of Izzy’s slumber. She really, really hoped that was not what being dead sounded like. Their voices were muffled at first, as if she was hearing them from underwater, her eyelids lead weights demanding she return to sleep for a while longer. The night before felt more like a foggy nightmare nagging at the back of her mind than actual events. Part of her wished, hoped it really was nothing but a nightmare, a gruesome story her unconscious mind had decided to concoct. But with a groan, she rolled onto her stomach, her comforter draped over her, and forced her eyes open as every last detail came crashing back to her.
As hard as she wished it, it had been no dream.
Trevor—or the Wolf, if not both—had nearly killed her. And against all odds, the vampire child had, at long last, moved from the worn, dingy classrooms to come to her rescue. But what had become of Trevor?
Her body weighed down from the sleep still clinging to her with a greater fierceness than usual, she forced herself to roll out of bed, taking a moment to make sure her feet,covered by a pair of white socks, were properly attached before standing. She changed out of the clothes she still wore from the previous day, trying to shake off the almost congested feeling sticking to her, then stole downstairs. She tried to sneak out without her brothers noticing her. She needed to know if Trevor was okay, all things considered, and she figured the best place to search for him was the school. If he was not there, then perhaps Riley would be, and she could ask him where to find Trevor.

Izzy arrived at the school, and in searching it for Riley, she found the vampire child first. He was much the same as he always was, sulking in the corner, but he had somehow obtained an enigmatic helmet, which slumped down to cover the top half of his face. It was a sort of vintage football helmet, the kind with only a single bar going across for the face guard, with most of its paint chipped off and only yellowing plastic underneath.

Riley spoke up from behind Izzy as she was inspecting it, "Ah, that. Well, Lil' Vamp solved this problem for us, more or less, so I gave him that for a reward. You wouldn't believe how much he badgered me about it." That honestly raised more questions than answers, but Izzy had more important things to discuss. "I was surprised when he'd lent you the sword. Even more when he went out to save you. Honestly, I had both you and Trevor written off at that point." He said something cold quite glibly, though one could suppose that was part of his charm. "Trevor is fine, by the way. I'd let him rest for now; he's been through a lot, and he doesn't have an immortal body to help him recover."

As always, though a stuffiness hung in the air, the inside of the school was a bit cooler than the muggy outdoors. When Izzy found the child, she had to stop in her search for Riley or Trevor. She stepped inside the room to get a closer look at the new accessory he had somehow obtained. She blinked a couple times, before her lips quirked upward at the sight of him wearing it. Wondering where he had gotten it, she was about to turn to leave and resume her hunt, but Riley’s voice broke through the relative silence of the room. She turned to face him, her fingers inside her pants pockets.
Her brows rose at his question-inducing explanation at how the child had gotten the helmet, but that was a topic that could wait. She bent her head to look to the cracked floor when he continued, her eyes narrowing slightly at his callous statement, but not because he had said it. She had thought essentially the same thing, but it sounded like he had seen the entire fight, as short as it was, despite having supposedly left.
She took a breath, and shook her head. “Me too.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the vampire child’s corner. She had had ample time to think on the child’s curious actions from the previous night on the bike ride to the school. “If he hadn’t saved me, he would’ve gotten what he wanted in the first place. He’d have ultimately died along with me.” Her gaze settled on the child for a short moment. Perhaps he had, in some way, begun to realize he wanted to live after all.
She looked back to Riley at Trevor’s name, then sighed in relief at the news of his condition. “Can I see him? I won’t disturb him. I just… I need to see him for myself.”

Riley shrugged, "If you insist, he's at home. But I'd let him sleep; he doesn't have any memory of what happened to him as the Black Wolf." Anticipating that Izzy would be confused by that designation, he elaborated. "That's what I'm calling him in that state, since he certainly wasn't the White Wolf. He became something else entirely, something new. A new species of aberration, if you will. Something new needs a new name. A monster for the modern era: the Black Wolf." Izzy understood the meaning of the name without further explaination. Even though the aberration was an being of pure white, its existence represented the blackest depths of Trevor's soul.

"Y'know, he spoke to me when I was carrying him back. He was knocked out, so it was sort of like hypnotherapy. But naturally I listened closely; my job is collecting aberrations and stories of them, so I couldn't pass up a chance to hear about a new kind of aberration straight from the man himself. It really was a White Wolf at first, at the beginning. But as soon as it attacked Trevor's parents, it was ready to let go of him. But in that moment, Trevor's consciousness came to the surface, and he held onto it. Rather than be free of the aberration, he forced it to stay, and made himself a host for it. That's the moment that the Black Wolf was born."

Home. Trevor was home, which made it impossible for Izzy to check in on him without waking him, or meeting his unsavory guardians if they were home, if not both. When Riley continued, she glanced to the floor, anticipating how he would finish the sentence, but she looked back to him with a puzzled look. Before she could open her mouth to ask, he elaborated.
Izzy nodded in understanding at his explanation.
“You collect aberrations?” she interrupted, her brows furrowing in curiosity. For a moment, she could not help but wonder if she and the vampire child were apart of his ‘collection.’
When he finished speaking, she swallowed and glanced away.
“I’m glad he doesn’t remember any of it,” she began. Wish I could forget what happened, she added silently, draping her hands around her midsection. She bit her lower lip for a short moment, then continued. “But that part of him that wanted the White Wolf to stay is still in there, isn’t it? The part that wanted to hurt people.”
Izzy took a slow breath. He was the last person she would have imagined wanting to inflict suffering on others, but here they were all because he had welcomed the White Wolf with open arms. Trevor was far from the person she had thought he was, from who he appeared to be through the little window peering into the room he wanted everyone to see.
“What am I supposed to do with that?” She finished softly.

"Well, in a manner of speaking." Riley answered Izzy's query. "Their legends, their characteristics. Ghost stories and urban myths." Pondering her second question a bit longer, he answered, "Yes. His stress is still there. Maybe it's been abated for now, but the source of that stress, his parents, they haven't gone anywhere. It's like putting a lid over something smelly. The source of the bad smell remains untouched." Riley laughed, shaking his head. "If you think about it, really Trevor's been possessed by a different kind of aberration: an onerous and unavoidable spirit called 'family.'"

Riley pondered Izzy final, quiet question for a moment, before speaking up. "I think we should let the Black Wolf shoulder the burden for Trevor's follies." This line of thought was very unlike Riley, normally such a stickler for personal responsibility. Perhaps he was still reeling from having been unable to resolve this issue himself? "It's convenient for Trevor that this alter ego can be blamed for his crimes, and that it's taken his memories of them along with it. But that's only natural, since Trevor created it; his own ideal of convenience. We'll let him go his way, and help him if we can. It's a grey conclusion, I know, but this was the conclusion that Trevor already decided on with his actions. We've got no say in the matter." Riley stood up, signaling his desire for conversation coming to an end. "And for that, I'll continue to keep in contact with you, as always." He finished, smiling and with his usual mischievous glint in his eye.

“Ah,” came Izzy’s laconic response to Riley’s first answer, letting him finish. That makes more sense.
She sighed heavily at his second answer. The sooner Trevor could get out of that house with his so-called family, the better. For everyone.
The man’s last answer was not one she had expected from him, but she nodded in agreement. There was not much else they could do, she supposed, and bringing what Trevor had done while under the influence of the Black Wolf would change little, if anything.
“‘Gray’ seems to be the color of the world ninety percent of the time.” She watched Riley stand, then nodded once. “Speaking of family, though, I should probably get back to mine. I’ve been neglecting them for the past week.” She gave a sheepish smile, then glanced over her shoulder toward the vampire child’s corner.
Looking back to Riley, she gave him a quick farewell nod, then turned and went to where the child sat, unusual helmet and all. She knelt in front of him and bent her head in an attempt at hiding her grin at the sight.
“Thank you for saving me last night,” she began, her expression audible in her voice for a moment before sobering. “I owe you for that. It’s good to know you don’t hate me enough to let me die.” She looked up and gave him a grateful smile, not expecting any kind of answer from him, then got to her feet and left the school.
Though her brothers and parents often drove her insane, at the end of the day, she loved them, and they were truly her family. Izzy would not exchange that for anything. As she pedaled down the road beneath the warmth of the mid-morning sun, she could not help but feel sorry for Trevor and the family he had never gotten the chance to have.

Holden Sandstrom was a mysterious person in Izzy's eyes. Despite having shared a great number of classes together for all four of their high school years, the two had never said a word to each other. He was a sickly young man, from what Izzy knew. He was thin, pale, waifish in build. Like taut string he looked as though he might break if you were to touch him. Izzy had never seen him participate in PE, and in fact had never seen him exert himself physically at all. Given the regularity of his doctor's appointments, he would frequently come to school late, leave early, or not show up at all. There was a joking rumor that surrounded him, implying that he was actually just a truant that stayed at home.

Izzy didn't have much of a mind to describe a boy as "beautiful;" she wasn't a romantic in that way. But if she was ever asked to point out an example, it would probably be Holden. His presence seemed ethereal, as though he was woven from gossamer instead of flesh and blood. His parents had been a Canadian oil magnate, and the daughter of a Japanese investor (so Izzy had heard), and so rumor held that he was a child of wealth and privilege. His dark hair and eyes, with his pale skin and subtle foreign features gave him an air of exoticism in the sea of blonde Caucasians that made up the rest of her hometown's population. Not to mention the rumored wealth that he stood to inherit. If he had been a girl, perhaps he would be the image of a sheltered heiress. But instead, he was a sickly, frail boy. His posture and his attitude allowed for no one to come close to him, and so no one tried. He existed on his own, as an island, and not a soul dared to approach him.

The first interaction Izzy ever had with him, was the morning of September 16. It had been a few weeks since the incident with Trevor, and school was back in session. Izzy had been running up the stairs, late for class by the virtue of forgetting where her new classroom was. And as she ascended the steps, a boy fell from heaven. Well, not really. Holden had been just above her on the stairs, lost his footing, and fell backwards straight into Izzy. Out of reflex, she tried to catch him and break his fall. Izzy's expectation was that he would be much heavier than her and bowl her over, knocking them both to the ground. Instead, she caught him effortlessly. Izzy was not much stronger than a normal girl her age, despite her supernatural physique, and even so, she still had a normal sense for weight and pressure. The fact was that Holden did not seem to weigh anything at all. Holding him up, it was though he was not even there. "Weight" was not a force that he exerted on the world around him. Standing back up, and before Izzy could say two words to him, he fled like a wounded deer, running (carefully) up the stairs and down the hall, out of sight.

Izzy did not see him for the rest of the day, but the incident weighed heavily on her mind. After the school day had ended, she met up with Trevor in an empty art classroom. They were in many of the same classes this year, and Trevor had taken it upon himself to improve Izzy's academics in time for college applications. School council elections had been the previous week, and Trevor had badgered Izzy into being his running mate. Such was his magnetism, it seemed, that the two easily won election, and were now the senior class representatives. Izzy found out almost immediately that it was tedious, thankless work, and so they met frequently after class to engage on the various projects assigned to them. Izzy didn't feel like hanging out at her house, thanks to her obnoxious brothers, and Trevor had obvious reasons that he didn't want to go home. Despite the events at the end of summer break, the two were still good friends. Trevor had no recollection of what had transpired, and acted the same as he always did. Izzy had decided that, while she couldn't love him after learning what he felt like deep inside, that she could still stand by him as his friend. It worked fairly well, for what it was worth.

The two were taking a break, Izzy playing with a pen and Trevor taking his glasses off to rest his eyes. Accounting for student council funds was most of what the senior representatives did, and it was mind-numbing work. Izzy idly inquired what Trevor knew about Holden Sandstrom, and he mulled the name over for a bit before speaking tiredly about it.

"Hummm... He's got kind of a weird name. Holden is the protagonist in The Catcher in the Rye, and Sandstrom is Swedish, I'm pretty sure. Besides that, well, I figure you would know more, since you've had so many classes with him. It's pretty unusual for you to be asking about someone else, too. You have a crush on him?" Trevor smiled coyly. "But as far as I know... He's an honor student, he has perfect attendance, sick days aside, and he doesn't have any friends that I know of. I tried talking to him a few times but he's just..." Trevor struggled for a word for a moment. "Defensive. Like a castle with the gate drawn and the windows barred. Absolutely no way in."

Trevor leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He and I went to the same middle school; I know you went to a different one. He was on the track team back then, and he was really good at it, too. He even broke some records, I think. But now, compared to back then, he just seems so different. Fleeting, as though he's not really there."

For the millionth time that semester, Izzy had taken the wrong turn through the school. Lost in thought, as she so often found herself lately, her legs had instinctively tried to take her to one of last year’s classrooms. Frustrated and a bit frazzled, she jogged through the halls toward a set of stairs. The halls were vacant, everyone already in their proper classes, making the echo of her footsteps sound louder than normal.
She forced herself to focus on where she was going. Her shoes squeaked on the linoleum when she nearly passed the staircase she needed to take, skidding to a short halt before scrambling up the stairs.
Noticing a boy on the wide stairway ahead of her, she started to step to the side to go around him. She had sat behind him in enough classes to recognized him just from his back as Holden Sandstrom, the sickly boy whose seat often sat empty. But just as she was only a few steps away, the delicate-looking boy lost his balance and tumbled backward.
Without thinking it over, she dropped her physics book and notebook, and braced herself to try catching him. Though she suspected his weight would only send both of them tumbling down the stairs, perhaps she could at least soften his fall.
Instead, when his back met her, it felt as if she had caught little more than a breeze between her arms.
What the… Before she could fully register what had happened, Holden had collected himself and raced up the stairs.
"Hey! Hold on!" she tried calling, taking a couple hasty steps up, but he had already disappeared around the corner. She stared after him for a moment, blinking. He had grown up in the town, as far as she knew, and she had seen him frequently in the halls and classes of the high school. There was no way he could be an aberration… was there?
Shaking her head, Izzy quickly collected her things, chasing after a pencil that had slipped from the spiral of the notebook. Could he have been affected, like Trevor had, by something the residue of Cerasus’ presence had conjured?
With her things gathered, she continued to her class, but her mind remained on Holden and his unnatural weightlessness.
The rest of the day dragged by. Izzy looked for him in their couple shared classes and the crowds of students that flooded the halls between bells, but she did not see him again, even at lunch. By the time the day finally came to an end, Izzy had given up trying to find him. Even if he had stuck around school, just avoiding her, he would have gone home by now.
Now, sitting in the art classroom with Trevor, the tube lights buzzing softly above them, she sat across from him on one of the tables, the end of a pen tapping restlessly against the wood.
“Remind me again how I let you talk me into this?” she asked with a groan when, at last, he declared a break from their tedious work.
She leaned back in her chair so it balanced precariously on its two back legs as Trevor removed his glasses. She watched him for a short moment, thinking, yet again, about what had happened to him, and wondering if Holden was dealing with something equally as supernatural. Or, rather, what he was dealing with. After all, nothing she knew of in the “natural” world could cause such a symptom.
“Random question for you,” she began as nonchalantly as she could. “Do you know anything about Holden Sandstrom?”
She linked her hands behind her head beneath her usual high ponytail as her friend answered. The rolled-up sleeves of a camouflage-patterned jacket she had found at a thrift store to replace one of her old ones pulled up slightly.
“What?” Her chair clanked back to the floor at his inquiry of having a crush. “No. Nothing like that. Like you said, I’ve had a lot of classes with him.” She shrugged. “Thought I’d find out what I could about him. See if he needs help with schoolwork what with all his sick days.”
“Huh,” she said thoughtfully as Trevor leaned back. Her brows rose slightly when he finished speaking. You have no idea. “Don’t suppose you know where he lives, do you? Maybe I’ll drop by or something. See if he needs a hand with anything.”

Trevor eyed Izzy cautiously, obviously suspicious of her intentions. "I don't know where he lives exactly," he started, probably telling the truth, though Izzy doubted he would tell if he knew. "Best I heard was that he lived in a big, fancy mansion just outside of town. Is there something going on with him?"

Stories of a sickly, frail boy. A boy without presence, without weight. Rumors, in other words. Rumors gave way to legend, which gave way to aberrations, as Izzy had experienced multiple times by now. Was it worth it to involve Trevor in all of this again?