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"Veylocke!"
Abolish turned to see one of the other recruits approaching him. Elisha was a head shorter than he was, and leaner and probably more flexible. "I heard about Oakhurst! That must have been wild."
He sighed back, already tired just at the reminder of the cursed town. "It was; they were all lunatics." Then, he tilted his head, and after a moment's consideration, added: "And probably other supernatural beings than vampires."
"What!?"
Martyn was, frankly, tired of crawling back from the dead.
His phantom wings and tail had made themselves known, and he was too tired now to force the shift to hide them. He should've figured that two sires would be too many. Nevermind that he had been unaware of Apo's bite.
I t didn't matter now. What mattered was Ren. The good thing about being undead was that he would be able to find Ren, but the more pressing question… where in God's name was he?
A quick look around offered nothing. Good and solid nothing. So Martyn stood, his tail whipping around for balance. Another scan of the area got him going. The forest of Oakhurst would never leave his mind, nor would the blood-red sky. Blood moon. Bingo.
The beacons weren't gone yet. Good, they hadn't had time. The notion motivated him—they must still have been in the town square. He wasn't too late. Even so, the shining promise of perhaps meeting up with the townsfolk and, most importantly, Ren, could not quell the part of him that recoiled from the dark as if he wasn't part undead flying squirrel.
Allowing his wings to spread to their massive full wingspan, Martyn gave a great flap, and then another, and another. At the familiar rush of wind past his feet, a wave of euphoria crashed over him, but he shook it off and looked onwards, radioactive green eyes sweeping briefly across every inch of the town he could see.
There. The telltale soul fires burning around the small village served as flares. Martyn made the dive and hoped to God that someone was in town to hear him. They hadn't all left yet, they couldn't have. It couldn't have even been a minute since he'd been wrenched from his human coil.
Landing briskly and barely on his feet, the phantom hybrid looked around. There. The remaining townsfolk were fighting something— REN. They were fighting Ren.
"SPECS! SPECS, I'M OKAY!" He screamed, high and shrill as was typical of a night creature like himself, not bothering with the wings or the tail. Phantoms were built for speed, God damn it, he had to make it.
Martyn caught up just in time to catch an unfortunate swing from Apo, which he winced at, and then came the dead silence. Ren had already paused, and it took barely two seconds for Martyn to be swept up in a bone-crushing hug, wings and all.
Apo's mouth had dropped open, as had the sword from her hand. Shelby and Sausage were the only two whose expressions were pure elation and not shock.
"Specs— Specs, I need to breathe—"
Ren's grip loosened, but refused to drop away from him, so Martyn resigned himself to the position and did his best to relax his wings and move them out of the way. He melted into Ren, resolving to deal with the scratches and aftermath of the fight later.
"YOU'RE ALIVE!?" Scott screeched, and Martyn did not flinch away from the noise, thank-you-very-much. He made a sort of groaning noise in the back of his throat and burrowed further into Ren, relishing in the warmth.
Apo looked like she might cry with relief when the shock left her face. She moved toward the hugging duo, but stopped short. Pearl had no such qualms, and ran to her sunflower with reckless abandon, Cleo on her heels.
Martyn nearly toppled over from the force, but Ren managed to keep them both steady, and soon Martyn found himself surrounded on all sides.