Chapter Text
It was still night when Mason woke once again, rummaging outside his tomb filtering into his hyper sensitive ears. He’d heard recently, through eavesdropping on other magical beings, that monster hunters had moved into town, drawn to the sleepy Gravity Falls for supposed increased activity of the supernatural. The vampire was groggy in his movements, arms and legs stiff from lying still. The wizard’s blood still clung to his pallet, draining him even further. It was like an illness, robbing his body of energy as he struggled to expel it from his system.
He pushed open his coffin as quietly as he could, the old hinges squeaking faintly. He’d need to take it to the local funeral home and have it repaired. He slipped out of his bed with all the grace of a fledgling waking up from death for the first time, feet thumping loudly on the dusty floor. The sound echoed through the tomb, dirt huffing up in a cloud before flittering back to the ground. Maybe he should move his coffin off the raised platform, but it felt like some kind of religious irony, and what kind of vampire would he be if he didn't exploit that?
Mason crept over to the cracked door, red eyes bright in the night. His pointed ears twitched as he searched for any more sounds. Footsteps were coming from his left, perhaps fifty feet away. His teeth throbbed almost pleasantly at the idea of a fresh kill, his hunger from before coming back full force. The moon was high overhead, indicating only a few hours had transpired since his failed feeding. Hunger pinched at his stomach, and he almost shot out of the tomb to catch the prey approaching before he heard voices.
“Dad, are you sure a monster lives here?” The voice was young, probably early teens. Mason couldn’t tell if it was male or female from the way the speaker whined. Mason crouched down to reduce the possibility of being spotted as a shadow briefly passed over his tomb. He stared at the slumped shoulders of the passing figure―a boy he now knew. He could hear three, maybe four, other people shuffling around tombstones; all searching for him.
A booming voice nearly made Mason hiss in pain, his hands shooting up to cover his ears. It sounded so close, as if the man was beside the tomb. The vampire was quickly realizing he was a sitting duck, just waiting for them to burst in there and stake him. He debated turning into his bat form and making an escape, but with the lack of blood in his system, he wouldn’t make it far.
“Of course the vampire lives here!” The voice laughed, fully confident in his answer as he clasped his son on the shoulder. “Where else would it live? No one would willingly let it into their home.” The man, tall and broad shouldered, spoke as if Mason was a pest, vermin that should be rid from the world. A snarl built up in his throat before he stopped himself, clawed fingers digging into the stone below him.
He could take the boy down no problem; he seemed to hold no physical prowess and an apathetic disposition. The father would be a lot harder to take down in the vampire’s current state. He was armed with crosses hanging from his neck, the stench of garlic clinging to his being. He even seemed to carry holy water and wooden stakes on his belt. Mason scowled, standing once the pair moved on, listening for the sounds of them prying open the door to a different tomb.
The vampire used the sound to cover up opening his own tomb door, the moonlight filtering over his face as he peeked out, scanning his surroundings for the other hunters in the area, perhaps the rest of the man’s family. If they were anything like the son, it wouldn’t be too difficult to escape unnoticed. He kept his steps light as he crept out of his tomb, careful of fallen tree branches and broken tombstones. Mason weaved between tombstones and statues, anxiety building as he neared the exit. It had been too quiet while he moved, the wind gently rustling leaves underfoot.
He’d kept himself low, nearly crawling across the ground to keep out of the light. By now the hunters must have discovered his opened tomb, the relatively fresh looking coffin propped open and empty. Mason swallowed thickly, ears flicking, straining to make up for his lacking vision in the dark. The gate was in sight, swinging in the breeze as if to taunt him. Beyond, the worn down parking lot held an old looking truck, a model he didn't recognize, though it's not like he knew much about cars in the first place.
Mason got as close as he could, crouching next to a grave to make sure the coast was clear. Well, that would have been the plan if the shouting hadn’t started. Maybe he had overestimated the ability of these hunters.
“Hey!” Another male voice shouted, one deeper than the boy but not quite as the father. “This tomb’s already open!”
“Are you sure we didn’t open it?” Mason turned towards the exit once more, hands braced on the ground to sprint off. “There’s an open coffin, dad! It must have escaped!”
Before Mason could even take a step, a voice was right next to his ear, low, feminine and mocking. “Goin’ somewhere, monster?” Mason spun around fast enough to narrowly avoid a direct stab to the chest. The stake plunged into his left shoulder with a sickening tear, a scream ripping from the vampire as he stumbled back, holding his bleeding shoulder; they must have soaked them in holy water. He was quick to pull the stake out, dropping it into the dirt with a trembling hand. Panic began to flood his being as the hunter made move to strike again, new stake already in hand.
Before she could make another jab at his heart, Mason shifted into his bat form, flapping his wings in a weak attempt to escape. His shoulder burned, blood dripping from his wing as he struggled to keep airborne. At the rate of his blood loss, he would be forced to revert back in a matter of seconds. Behind him, the female hunter was calling to her family, informing them of the vampire’s escape.
Mason made it halfway across the parking lot before he fell to the ground, reverting back to his human form. He almost felt like giving up, like letting them stake him and put him out of his misery. His breathing was labored, hand pressed tightly to his wound as footsteps began to approach. He had maybe a minute before they would be upon him. The vampire struggled to his feet, shouts ringing in his ears and vision swimming from bloodloss.
He tripped the first few steps, legs wobbly. By some miracle he worked up to a run, breath coming out in pants as he escaped the parking lot. A few streets away were houses, the residential area of Gravity Falls where he could possibly hide. His bones creaked, muscles protesting the exertion as he ran, fueled only by the desire to life, no matter how small it was. Heavy footsteps were gaining on him, though the hunters weren’t close enough to start throwing holy water at him.
He turned onto the first street, running past a few houses. All the lights were off, leaving a slim possibility to be let in by time the hunters caught up. He stumbled up the steps of the last house on the street, slumping against the front door. His eyes slipped shut, hand clinging to his wound. It was getting harder to stay conscious, his breathing thinning out. He almost succumbed to his fate before another miracle was bestowed upon him and the door against his back opened.