Author: Urchin of the Riding Stars PM
After being sold to Freakshow as a slave, Danny is rescued by a mysterious man in the dead of night. Now under the protection of a billionaire and an obsessive ghost, can Danny's heart be saved? And just what are Vlad's true intentions? Pompous Pep.Rated: Fiction M - English - Mystery/Romance - Danny F. & Vlad M. - Chapters: 6 - Words: 43,316 - Reviews: 94 - Favs: 132 - Follows: 152 - Updated: 09-17-11 - Published: 06-15-11 - id: 7084905
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Visitors, Part II
No, we do not get to see the blank scene just yet. A few more holes are filled in, but not very many. Anyway, please review, as I've decided I'm only going to update when the chapter is akin with the review numbers. (Essentially, I really like where this story is going, but if there aren't at least ten reviews per chapter, I can't really keep up with the amount of work this story needs in order to be told.)
Will see you guys below! *Reads*
The typical person's response to terror is to scream, but Danny Fenton was far than your typical person, and sometimes, terror is so constricting that it chokes the sound right out of you.
Forest green eyes widening with horror at the feeling of the vice like fingertips clutching at his arm, Danny whipped around, frozen at the creature now simply gazing at him, looking slightly reproving, a little strained, perhaps-
But mostly just amused.
Barely centimeters away, a pair of familiar, bloody red eyes were gazing into Danny's, and the hand that was grasping his gloved arm was cold. Painfully so.
He looked like something your older sister might have teased you about before your parents closed the door, and bid you a good night, leaving you alone in a dark room. But now, not QUITE alone, for the night now has a face, and it has scary teeth, etched into a charming, gentle smile.
But something deep within his eyes told a different story, one Danny was quite certain he did not want to hear.
The vampiric creature opened his mouth to speak, but years of reflexes that had not quite died in the Dark Circus sparked into life, akin to factory machinery that has been left neglected and dusty, but still able to hum and whirl to life underneath the rusting surface. Danny immediately phased his hand away, and, with his free palm, sent a burst of electoplasmic energy straight into the monster's chest cavity.
The blue-skinned ghost's eyes widened in astonishment, and the monster opened his mouth in a slight, inaudible gasp as he was slammed into the neighboring wall, narrowly missing a portrait of the stately Vladimir Masters, and dropped to the ground like a fly, seeing stars flash before his eyes.
Wild with anger and fright, Danny sent another bolt of energy towards the regally caped ghost, and while the haunt looked stunned, it had at least the good sense to roll out of the way and cartwheel into the air out of the way before the blast could strike his face.
Old battle reflexes reminding him that victory generally belonged to the one holding the higher ground, Danny rocketed as high as in the air as he could go, and fired three more shots at the ghost, face gleaming with exertion, though his body's physical pain was quite forgotten.
Unnervingly enough, the ghost didn't try to flee as the emerald green flames roared towards him; he only gazed at the teen above him, smiling sardonically. Effortlessly twirling his palm to spin a pink frame of glass into existence, the ghost lazily extended his hand, and easily met all three blasts of energy speeding in his direction, which meekly bounced off. Danny had to duck in midair just to avoid one of his own heading straight back to him.
Danny cast the ghost an ugly scowl, and raised his hand to send yet another bolt at him, but thought better of it. He needed to get this horrible creature out of the house, before they could damage anything, before Mr. Masters could come home from work and get caught up in all of this.
Turning intangible, Danny shot through the ceiling, and the ghost followed, no longer smiling. Phasing tangible once again, Danny found himself now in a significantly gloomier hallway, which was filled with hundreds of candles glittering serenely in dark tapers.
Landing lightly on the ground, Danny cautiously took a light step back, freezing when the sound echoed in the chamber like thunder, keen senses prickling. His eyes flashed frantically this way and that, falling upon an enormous portrait that was hanging on the wall behind him, covered in violet silk drapery.
However, he didn't have much time to admire the décor, as the grim-eyed ghost rose out of the aged stone, like some horrible angel from a long-forgotten time. Danny abruptly sent an arctic blast towards the ghost, but before he could even blink, the ghost had vanished, and the icy energy soared on, settling upon the opposite wall into a fine, twinkling layer of frost.
Startled, Danny took another step backwards, but a pair of hands had seized his shoulders, and they forced the astonished boy down to the ground, his face smacking against the stone, and his head swum with pain before he blindly attempted to phase himself away, but his another hand seized him by the scruff of his neck, and sent a bolt of what felt like raw, searing heat through his body, making his vision go momentarily scarlet with pain.
His senses were on fire, and every fiber of his body was blistering from heat. Gasping in agony, Danny's mind reeled, forcing the transformation rings that suddenly burst at his waist to slide backwards, before his human half could be exposed. He heard someone howling in the distance-was that him?-and his dying mind suddenly registered with alarm that there were still two hands on his shoulders, forcing him down, but there was still a molten-hot hand at his spine-
There was more than one of him!
But just as soon as it had started, it was over, and Danny found himself trembling on a bitterly cold stone floor, shaking with adrenaline or fear. He heard a gasp from above him, a slight puff, and he was amazed to see pink smoke evaporating in the air before his eyes when the room came back into proper focus. A pair of hands carefully turned him over, one hand cradling his head, the other reaching for his hand.
Again, were those red eyes staring down at him. But now, the ghost was the one panicking.
"Oh, my word, oh my word, boy, are you alright?"
The ghost moved his hand away from Danny's pulse to his forehead, and the teen warily cringed away, not wanting the fiery bolts of pain on him anytime soon. The deathly-skinned specter's brow furrowed for a moment, and its jaw set, but soon enough, it was babbling something.
"My word….could have….could have seriously hurt you there…Phantom child, are you hurt, my boy? Do I need to get you anything-carry you back to your room? Ugh, dear, Masters will have my head for this one…."
The ghost than attempted to scoop up Danny, but the teen immediately danced away, still glowering, and immediately shot into the air again like a bullet. His opponent surged forwards, and, in a wink, had teleported once more in a puff of smoke, and seized Danny's foot. Shocked, Danny immediately phased out of his grip, and proceeded to fly straight through the wall, ignoring the ghost's shouts.
"Phantom! Ghost child! Oh, for the love of-COME BACK HERE!"
But Danny would not listen, for he was in flight or fight mode, and now, it was high time he got out of here. At the very least, he needed to finish the intruder outdoors, or at least lure him as far away as he could get him from his kind benefactor. Vlad could not be allowed to get hurt.
The idea made Danny jet intangibly across hundreds of layers of concrete and marble foundation, until open, cool air enveloped him, and cool rain was suddenly pelting against his flushed, peach-dusted skin.
Danny flew away from the beautiful castle, flying over the sea of emerald that was the majestic hall's grounds, covered in roses, which were gently swaying to the wind whipping and moaning overhead.
He recognized where he was-this was the outdoor hedge maze he'd seen when Mr. Masters had brought him here just two weeks ago. Perfect. Still glancing back at the castle apprehensively, Danny began to dive down into the heart of the rose maze, looking for a suitable place to hide and take the attacker by surprise.
….okay, in all fairness, HE'D attacked the ghost to begin with, but he had never, ever wanted to see a ghost again after his misery in Gothica. The idea of a good ghost-including himself-seemed laughable to him now, and the specter was probably haunting this lovely old place, out to drive Mr. Masters and any other occupants out. He had to stop him.
Drawing a gloved hand over his eyes, blinking at the raindrops, Danny sank into a dead-ended mire, which was surrounded by a trail that looked so complex that it looked like it would take the average person days to get out of it, and went to hide behind a large series of pillars, phasing intangibly beside a sea of full blown, but somehow sorry-looking white roses.
He turned around, and, what he saw next made his jaw drop, and despite the fact that the situation was desperate, he was numb with disbelief.
There, perched between two bubbling fountains, was a stone angel; not one of the small ones you occasionally saw atop of tombs-this was one was enormous, and its wings were stretching into the sky, every single enchanting, perfect feather of the wings expertly carved out, probably by some genius craftsman. He remembered that he'd seen a hint of this articulately created thing when the limousine had driven past it, and even asked a question about it to Mr. Masters just a day or so before concerning it, but the man had avoided the question and just murmured something about a lawn ornament.
But Danny wasn't really impressed by the fact that the angel was so beautiful, or the fact that it was wearing strange clothing, or twirling in such a strange and graceful way it most certainly must be dancing.
It was a stone tribute of HIM, in one of the outfits he'd briefly worn as Phantasma, during a performance where he'd become the angel of dance, or something else just as stupid.
Flummoxed, and slightly bemused, Danny momentarily forgot about the other ghost, and stepped closer to the tribute, staring at its features.
Its hair, its clothing, its limbs-yep, there was no mistaking it, this was either scary and all too convenient coincidence, a saint or something that resembled his ghost form…..AND had his DP module….AND his old costume Freakshow had forced him into…AND that pirouetting spiral that Lydia had spent days teaching him to perfect during an allegretto….
Danny walked around the stone figure, uncertainly tapping at its boot with a knuckle.
Well, the artist must have exaggerated a little: He wasn't THAT scrawny, or that feminine looking, and he most certainly didn't have wings exploding out of his back.
This was…..okay, slightly flattering, but the fact that every detail of his face, from his brow, to his spiky hair, to his eyes….
Face flushing, and feeling sick with anxiety, he backed away from the small statue, stomach turning somersaults.
One minute, he was trapped under Freakshow's foot, and was being told that he was scum of the world, and now, freaky-obsessive billionaires were building statues of him. How was this even happening? He didn't know whether he should take off right now or take it as a slightly sweet, if not also slightly creepy gesture.
He noticed a sprawl of elegant writing on a gleaming gold plaque at the figure's feet on a pedestal, hiding behind a few stray wild blooms. Danny knelt, and carefully brushed them aside, squinting slightly at the text he saw before him:
Well, that was no help. He didn't speak….foreign.
Frowning slightly in disappointment, Danny stepped away from the little statue, wondering vaguely what he should do now. Leave Vlad a 'Thanks for saving my life, you're swell' note, before he fled the country?
Oh. Wait. Duh. Crazy wicked bad guy alert. That was kind of important, too.
Danny turned around to stare at the castle looming in the distance. The creature had not followed him out of the stained glass windows-where was he? Did he even bother following him? Danny had heard faintly of certain poltergeists who only pester you to the point where you leave their dwelling entirely in his time at the circus-maybe the red-eyed ghost was one of those.
But wouldn't he have tormented the billionaire, too? Poltergeists did some truly awful things to get their way, and yet the man had never mentioned this ghost before. Did he even know he existed?
Distracted, Danny drew his arms slightly around himself, his breath making a small puff in the chilly air, sending the frolicking version of himself (He resented that slightly) a slightly disgusted look. Vlad had said that he found him interesting, but did he actually-
"Hello, Ghost Boy," purred a voice from behind him, barely audible over the raindrops fluttering to the world. "I see you've met your likeness."
The ghost held up his hands wearily as Danny instinctively moved into a fighting position, looking just as spent as a parent who has to the deal with the antics with a naughty six year old.
"Peace, child. I mean you no harm," he said sincerely, sighing sadly when Danny glided a few more feet away, face white. Something twitched at the corner of the ghost's mouth at the child's response, but he looked earnest, and he held out his arms entreatingly.
Who the hell are you? Danny longed to ask, but said nothing, although his eyes narrowed. Both ghosts were now effectively soaking wet, and now thunder was booming in the distance again. Danny closed his eyes, fatigue suddenly slamming into his own body, and exertion was making his thin limbs buckle slightly. His skin still slightly tingled from where the ghost had burned him, and his back was aching. Thankfully, neither of the two was on the ground, so the haunt couldn't see him prefer one foot over the other, either.
Maybe the ghost was just some long-forgotten spirit, who wanted human aid with something before they passed to the…whatever it was ghosts had, if they had anything at all after they'd died, and left walking shadows on the Earth, fueled by their obsession drive. Up until two years ago, certain ghosts had heard of Danny's title, and rather than avoid him, they had come to him, asking that he bury their remains or right some injustice so that they could pass on peacefully, and agree to do no harm.
"…..what do you want?" Danny asked cautiously, keeping his distance. This ghost was certainly strong, he'd give him that, and gifted, but he could probably take him. IF he had to fight it, that was.
The ghost gave him a puzzled look.
"Right now? To apologize. I hurt you, and I'm sorry," he said simply, and while mistrust immediately ignited in Danny, he couldn't help but notice that the ghost did look somewhat contrite. "I wasn't expecting to meet you quite so soon, although I must confess that I've been very eager to talk to you, Ghost Boy. I've heard much of you, even following your disappearance as some little town's self-appointed deputy."
Now, Danny was even more on his guard.
"How did you know I was here?" If the ghost was malicious, he needed to find some way of leaving, without igniting the ghost's suspicions, find Vlad somehow (He said he was working at DALV, which was downtown….it couldn't be VERY hard to find) and warn him to flee.
The ghost blinked, as if Danny were asking what the sum of two and two is.
"….well, dear boy," he began hesitatingly. "I live here. I have for many years. I was once the owner of this estate-" He gestured carelessly to the grandeur around the two-"And now, I simply wander its halls when I am in want for amusement. I happened to get a glimpse of you the first night you happened to arrive; I must confess that I was very excited, for there is scarcely anyone INTERESTING inside of my home, anymore."
Red and white cape waving wildly like a flag behind him, the ghost sighed long-sufferingly, a gloved hand moving to stroke his goatee thoughtfully.
"No one ever wants to talk; I frighten the servants away if I draw too near. It's a lonely sort of existence, being a ghost, and I hoped that you might have some interesting stories to tell-or, at the very least, I hoped you might be good at a game of-"
"Wait a second," Danny interrupted impatiently, now more confused than anything else. "You don't want to actually harm anyone?"
Now, the ghost looked offended.
"Excuse me? Gracious, do you suppose that I want to run around shouting 'boo' and threatening to eat people's children? It's like assuming all people want to have our sort-yours and mine-thrown in a cage and left for buzzards to pick at our decaying ectoplasm. Do you believe that's true?"
A cruel stab of pain suddenly struck hard at Danny, and the boy had to look away. The ghost's expression softened somewhat.
"Forgive me; that was a crude terminology to use, given your experiences. But no, Ghost Child. I don't want to hurt anyone, nor do I have any grudge or resentment against the current owner of this house, Mr. Masters."
The way he said it was mild enough, but his hands slowly curled into trembling fists. Thankfully, this escaped Danny, much to the specter's continued mirth.
"So….Vlad….he, um….knows you live here?"
This was dangerous. The billionaire would be the ultimate downfall of his plans if this was taken too lightly. Or too heavily. Either or would have catastrophic results, and Plasmius could not allow that to happen.
"Yes. He's a rather eccentric fellow, that Vladimir," he said simply, flowing around the stone statue of Phantasma, eyeing it somewhat disinterestedly. "I was a man of good fortune in my life, but he has more money than he knows what to do with….I suspect that lead to the creation of this statue."
He glanced up at Danny, and gently murmured,
"Do not take it too closely to heart, my boy-you look troubled. Once Vladimir takes even the SLIGHTEST interest in something, you can expect to see it in this dwelling, even after he tires of it."
The memory of the Packers memorabilia flowed through his mind, and Danny felt somewhat better, in spite of himself. The ghost went on:
"Mr. Masters is currently on a spectrology kick-I do not know how long it will last. Ghosts of all natures used to fascinate him, which meant that he was delighted to hear that ghosts still frequented the house he wished to purchase many years ago."
"'Ghosts?'" Danny repeated, eyes growing wide, unhappiness blooming inside of him. "There…..are…more of you?"
The ghost looked at him, and glided forwards in the rain. Danny couldn't bring himself to move away, even when the red-eyed specter stood just a few feet away from him, hovering a few inches in the air.
"Yes. My boy, does that bother you?"
Danny said nothing. The ghost went on-
"After my hold on this place was relinquished with my death, the Wisconsin Dairy King saw fit to move inside."
Danny looked up to stare, but the ghost continued:
"Now THAT was a strange fellow; all he ever wanted to talk about was food, food, food. Or cows," he added dryly, and Danny found the slightest hint of a smile beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth. "I didn't mind him very much because he was gracious, if not a bit….ah…addled upstairs," he added, pointing at his temple. "And, even after he passed on, he occasionally came to visit this place, although Mr. Masters doesn't like for him to do so; he has a tendency to break into the icebox and 'borrow' ice cream, cheddar, milk, or butter."
Now, Danny couldn't suppress a small giggle, and the ghost smiled at it. But quickly regaining his composure, he quickly asked:
"So, it's just you two? And what does Vlad think about YOU?"
The ghost's shoulders sagged; he looked like he'd been afraid of that question, and he was.
"Well….yes and no. The Dairy King comes only once in a blue moon; I like to come more often, if only to browse the library. Another ghost occasionally haunts it-my old librarian, Edmund. He's harmless, really-just likes to borrow a few old titles every now and again and work on another one of his masterpieces. Provided that you don't mistreat your books-I can't say I've ever had a servant whack my fingertips with a dictionary before-and that you are very quiet in the Masters' Library, he will…what do you youngsters say? 'Live and let live?'"
The ghost looked at him, and, for some reason or another, Danny felt slightly comforted looking into his eyes, if not just a bit lightheaded. Then, the ghost started speaking again:
"We're an odd group, but none of us will harm you, child," he said gently, and Danny shivered. The way the old ghost was speaking….he hadn't heard such a tone in years. He'd felt the same wistfulness when Vlad would talk to him, and spoil him and fuss over him, hearing a parent's tones.
But now, while these tones sounded SLIGHTLY familiar, he wasn't sure how or why. It sounded like a mix of something his parents had once used on him when he was very small, and very sick, with a mixture of what his 'girlfriend' in Amity Park had once said on Valentine's Day quite some time ago.
So absorbed in his thoughts, he almost didn't notice when the ghost started speaking again.
"As for Vladimir Masters and I…well, we've met," he said shortly, and Danny got the impression that he didn't like talking about Mr. Masters. "He was fascinated by me and the other two ghosts for a short period of time when he first moved in….I was rather charmed, for I now had someone to talk to. Edmund never has much patience for human…or ghostly society, and I took little pleasure in the Dairy King's sporadic appearances. We spent time together-he asked me questions constantly. I was flattered, and we spent evenings simply talking while Mr. Masters had tea, and I had someone to play checkers or a fetching game of chess with.
But after a while, he grew bored of my company, as I didn't have any exciting tales of revenge or stories of woe to occupy his interest. He also began obsessing over a young ghost phenomena that he'd recently began seeing in a sideshow, and started tracking him all over the country. Soon enough, he was rarely home, and when he was, whenever I attempted to approach him, he would dismiss me, or send me off to do some chore or task for him. Soon after I completed this task, I would return to him, only to have him close the door in my face. I got the hint, and soon enough, he was requesting that I stay on the fourth floor only, where people were less likely to visit during one of his business parties at the castle, and I not scare anyone. I was also instructed to stay out of sight of any servants, which is a little irritating, considering that this was once MY house," he admitted, sounding annoyed.
"And when YOU came, dear boy, I badly wanted to meet with you, but Mr. Masters said, in no uncertain terms, that I was to leave you alone. Surely the sight of a ghost after your horrific experiences would terrify you, and not help your condition. I decided to respect his wishes, although I did try to stop you when you were preparing yourself to visit a new floor of the castle-one I'M strictly forbidden from visiting. Mr. Masters has a special alcove on that floor that he allows no one to visit, including his servants, and he once caught me hovering near the area. He threatened to have me exorcised, and he does have surveillance cameras on that floor. While we were merely in the Chamber of Candles, if we had moved into another hall, you would have been found out, and Mr. Masters may have decided then and there to throw you out, even in your condition. Not that it gave me any excuse to hurt you, dear boy," the ghost finished, raising his dripping face up apologetically. "And I do hope you'll forgive me for that."
After a few moments of terse silence, Danny's rigid shoulders relaxed, and the boy sighed, now exhausted, ashamed, and shocked.
This poor, lonely ghost. It had never meant him any harm at all-it had just been trying to warn him. He, Danny corrected himself. How many times had people called him 'it' from the outside of his cage?
He couldn't possibly imagine Vlad being that cruel, or that selfish, or that hardhearted. Unfortunately, he had to admit that it WAS plausible; Vlad Masters was a strange man. Kind one minute, hard the next, obsessive, domineering, and brooding.
What would happen when Vlad grew tired of HIM? It had to happen eventually, but Danny couldn't dwell on that. Despite the fact that his instincts were screaming at him to continue this fight, Danny at last held up a hand.
He had to apologize. Technically speaking, even if he hadn't attacked the ghost, he would have had to; if not for him, Vlad would still be seeking the ghost's company.
"I'm….really sorry," he said sheepishly, moving a hand behind his head as the ghost gleefully took his hand in his. It felt so warm now. "I just saw you, jumped to conclusions, panicked, and I-" He was too embarrassed to say the rest.
The ghost gave him another kind look.
"Think nothing of it, ghost boy. I-"
"My name." He'd had the name Phantasma for two years; any excuse to have his actual name suited him just fine. "Just Danny."
The ghost smiled again.
"Well, 'Just Danny,' my name, should you care to use it, is Plasmius. At the very least, that is my surname," he continued, when Danny gave him a curious look. "Ironically enough, Mr. Masters and I both have the same first name, but I'd rather neither of us get confused over such matters."
Danny just nodded, teeth chattering by this time. The ghost looked at him, and frowned.
"Gracious, boy, what am I all about, allowing you to be out in this weather? You'll catch your death. Come now-back to the castle. You need a pair of new clothes, a warm bath, and bed."
You really couldn't say that Plasmius wasn't a pleasant person to talk to. By the time that the two now-rather sorry looking ghosts had arrived back at the castle, Danny had learned that like Mr. Masters, Plasmius had enjoyed football in his lifetime, although he preferred rugby, and he was upset no one in the United States played it professionally anymore. He was a bibliophile, collected buttons, rare minerals, and he and Danny got into an interesting conversation about them even whilst Plasmius gently shooed Danny into his wardrobe, closed the door, and continued talking to him while Danny got changed out of his wet clothes, and headed into the bathroom. Thankfully, the two could hear each other quite easily, although Danny sometimes wondered at the fact that Plasmius' voice seemed closer to his ear than he thought it should be.
And the name struck a familiar chord in his memory. He wondered why.
After Danny was done bathing, the servants had already left his hot lunch on a tray near his bed, and Max had left him his daily medication. While he sort of resented the fact that he had to go back to bed, at least the blue-skinned ghost was sitting in the chair Vlad normally occupied, and the two could cheerfully argue about which minerals came from outer space, and why.
It was the most at home Danny had felt in two years.
Afternoon slipped into evening, and Danny scarcely touched his dinner, although he had to keep gulping water for his throat-he couldn't remember a time he had talked so much. At last, Plasmius had gently admonished him for not eating enough-as if Vlad had not done that already-and had taken his leave, sweeping his gloved hand on Danny's head as he left, just as Vlad had once done, although Plasmius did not at all seem to react as though he were handling something unseemly, horrific, or disgusting.
Danny swallowed as much as he could, and at last, had fallen into a light doze, woken two hours later by a polite tapping at the door. He'd hoped it was Plasmius, who was too much the gentleman to simply phase through a wall, but it was Vlad Masters, coming in with a soft greeting and small smile.
The boy watched him carefully as he came into the room. While the awe and respect he had for Vlad was certainly still there, now, confusion and mistrust was prickling at him once again, especially after Vlad drew out a small, ivory-covered envelope, and offered it to him.
Upon reading its contents, his heart sank like a stone.
Ugh. So mundane. He'd been ready to slit his own wrists out of sheer boredom. How perfectly dull. And soon enough, he was going to have to take care of a certain…ah…problem of his. He'd wanted nothing more than to grab the boy he wanted, and take him ragged into the ground, pushing and pushing into him over and over again. His lust was nearly insatiable, unbearable, and it was made all the more keen by Vlad's interest in Phantasma.
It was certainly very dull, pretending that he cared about stupid things like stones, but it had made the child happy, although Plasmius could think of a few more activities that would certainly be more interesting. While the boy had very obviously been taken before-forcibly-and Masters was too much of an idiot to fully realize that yet, it didn't matter. Plasmius craved the exotic little boy, but he had to exercise control over his hunger. If he only took Danny, without getting the young halfa to tell him that he wanted him, then his end of the contract would be void, and not only would the insufferable little brat loathe and fear him, he would not get to take Danny away.
After what he'd done to Vlad's first love, he wasn't surprised that the woman had given her son away, although the boy now bore grievous wounds on his aching heart.
In that case, he would be the soft voice of sympathy, and would counter Masters' harshness, for it would come soon enough when Vladimir Masters could no longer stand to even LOOK at the boy, let alone be in the same room together. It would happen. All he would have to do was sit back, allow Vlad's greed and guilt consume him, and Danny would come running into his arms.
And after that, it would be time for the boy to grant him his human heart, and Plasmius would be sated in more than one way.
Listening to Vlad explain his current situation to the boy, a smirk curled onto the features of the horrific entity, who watched unseen from a distance, terrible glee igniting in his heart.
So, Vlad was holding a ball at his home next week, eh? Something ridiculous for DALV, and the man had tried to book an ornate hotel instead. However, the man could not cancel, and was now asking whether or not the boy felt healthy enough to attend.
He heard Danny murmur a polite affirmation, although he could tell the boy looked very much like he did NOT want to go, and wished that his benefactor had not asked him. But sweet, idiotic types like his boy felt obligated to go.
Oh, how splendid. Cinderella was going to the ball.
Well….if he could convince Danny to leave his doors and windows unlocked at night, all it would take was a little strain here, a little strain there, and, should something truly awful happen to occur at the party, and Danny should snap, it would, at the very least, bring the little badger just a little closer to his arms.
And a cold eternity in his bed.
Dum-dum-DUUUUUUMMMMMMM! Yes, if you haven't already guessed it, Plasmius is a HUGE LIAR and he's EVIL! Run Danny, run for your life! :o
Next chapter: Ball.