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The Immortal Rules

By @choppedmint

Story 16

Sam had to wake himself up that night at Claire’s. For once, his heart was beating like mad, the fear clinging to his throat and making it hard to breath. Light showed from under the curtains but it was too early for the humans to be up or Michaele to still be awake, since as far as Sam had ever figured, vampires went to sleep before the sun. 

Just to make sure that he didn’t drift back into the nightmare Sam rolled over, taking the remaining pillow and blanket with him, landing with a muffled thump on the floor, hands and knees hitting the rug. There was little else he could do but crouch there in the silence and semi-dark, since he neither wanted to wake anyone up nor did he want to cause himself to go back to sleep. In the end, he just dragged himself to a standing position. 

He wandered off in the direction of the kitchen, footfalls making no noise against the wood floor. He’d been showed the room one time but had crept back to the living room he’d originally ended up in because he didn’t want to be in the way of the family affairs that were going on there. Instead, he’d sat on the couch like a lump and still hadn’t gotten around to regretting it. But now that the light was still hardly slipping into the room, and he’d dragged a blanket along to cover most of his skin, it seemed like the perfect place to go.

He wasn’t really hungry yet. He could last longer without anything than he’d been able to as a human. This didn’t mean he was suddenly able to go three days without anything like Myrnin seemed to be able to do on a whim. Or maybe, and Sam didn’t dwell on that thought for too long, he just had other sources than the fridge in the corner of the lab. 

The Glass House kitchen was a bit larger than the one he was used to at home. When he walked in there was a pantry directly to his right and ahead of him was the sink, the dishwasher, and the rows of cabinets. There was a table as well, though it looked a bit oddly fitting in the corner and from the way that half of it was covered in varying items it was a bit clear that not every meal was centered around it and not everyone used it when it was. The windows (there was only two, one over the sink and one set into the back door that was set just before the table.) were covered in curtains, but here Sam could tell there had been a slight disagreement with the colors. They clashed. 

The house itself seemed to be set up in that most of the downstairs seemed to have been claimed as Allison’s play area. Sam had to step over another toy that was located in the hallway before he’d gotten to the kitchen and he noticed a small line of rubber ducks along the sink that were in different colors. He thought these were probably hers too.

Sitting at the table he frowned down at the arrangement of papers that were scattered across most of the surface. It was all for what he could guess was something that Eve was working on. They probably hadn’t had a chance to put it away since Myrnin had so abruptly dropped him off. Sam really doubted that that it had been very helpful for the two families. 

The work itself seemed to be reports and Sam looked down at them, running downcast eyes over the fancily written letters and notes. There wasn’t anything else for him to do and they hadn’t been moved.

As he looked over them, however, he wondered if Myrnin would have agreed that these be set in an area he could pick through. From the look of it, these weren’t something that had meant to be left out. Sam looked around, frowning at the ducks along the sink as if were looking at him.

Michaele had a child. Was she aware of vampires? Maybe. It wasn’t like you could keep the fact that your father was different from the other kids’ secret. Sam knew. He’d tried, and one of his parents hadn’t even been a vampire. Sometimes it was just so awkward to say ‘oh, my mom can’t pick me up’ when his father was at work and he’d broken one of his fingers while at school. For the two months that his brother had been his sole guardian he’d avoided questions altogether.

He pulled one of the pieces of paper toward himself. They weren’t really that gloomy in nature unless you could pick out the language. Or maybe it was just so usual around the house that Allison wouldn’t be surprised to see what were basically death certificates.

They were reports more than anything else. Most were directed to Eve, but Sam couldn’t see her being the one who looked at them. A couple of letters and packages in the corners also bore her name, or the ones he could see from where he was sitting did at least. So maybe everything was sent to the Glass House using her information. 

Anyway, the papers. The papers were a creamy sort of paper, printed off what looked to be a typewriter in sharp letters. Part of the ‘k’ was chipped off at the corner so it looked like a Norse rune. Sam had many interests.

It was a clipped, professional sort on analyses. Part of it even seemed to be addressing someone, the reader, for help.

Sam read over this, and another, still trying to pick up what they were about. The names within them were both old and new and after three reports he’d ended up with a different sort of mail. The three on top of the scattered pile were about deaths. Not that he could pick out very much about how they had died, but each letter seemed a bit different in how they were formatted. One seemed sadder than the other, one seemed worried, another seemed completely professional. The remaining letters actually gave him answers.

What was ‘Daylight’? It was big ‘D’ daylight, too. There was only the one letter that Sam looked at, but it went something like this:

Dear E_v_e G_l_a_s_s,

This report is concerning Honors Toil. As of now it has been four months, three weeks, and two days since D_a_y_l_i_g_h_t. Any advice concerning what is to be done would greatly be advised and appreciated. You expressed interest in their rehabilitation as of three months and twenty-one days ago and this letter is sent to you under their express permission.

Toil, as you know, was a vampire for over three hundred years and after D_a_y_l_i_g_h_t was administered to Marcus Toil on the event of (and here there was a date that Sam glazed over, because it was a habit from History. Why would dates be important unless they were for a report?) Honors Toil has considered undertaking the same. This was done on the aforementioned date of the last letter and she has expressed interest in talking with you for any advice you might supply for her and her significant other.

Thank you,


And then there was a symbol that Sam couldn’t make heads or tails of and he even turned the letter around a bit to try and see if it made any more sense the other way around. No such luck. Below all that was a title that included Co-Founder. That was the only one that caught his eye. It was a bit less professional then what had been sent before, but Sam picked up the three previous letters, checking the last names.

Jerimiah Toil stood out. Sam frowned, about to relook at the others when someone coughed from behind him and Sam nearly fell off his seat.

“Eeh!” he said, twisting around to look at Michael. Awake, though it didn’t look like he had been for long. Sam eyed the window above the sink, thinking it must be around six or seven in the morning.

“Find something?” asked the vampire. He didn’t seem too annoyed that Sam had been picking through his mail. Walking over he took the two letters from his hands, studying them to see which Sam had picked up. “Ah,” he commented. “Honors.” And that was all he said about the person mentioned in the letters, looking at Sam instead, eyebrow raising.

“I don’t know them,” Sam said, just checking in case that was the conclusion Michael had jumped to when he’d seen Sam. The older vampire nodded his head anyway to say that he understood this. “Alright.”

He set both of the letters back on the table and took one of the seats that didn’t have some package on top of it. “Was that why Myrnin left you here?” he asked after a second, waving at the chair that Sam had stood up from. Sam took the chair back, a bit more hesitantly than before but took it nonetheless. “No?” he questioned. “Why would he do that?”

Michael shrugged. “If I could understand what went on in that guy’s head then I probably would have gone insane myself. Best I could guess that he isn’t sure what you’re going to do.” He tapped at the papers. “Do you know what these are?”

Sam shook his head but after a second he gave just a tiny nod. Maybe he did. It sounded a bit like a conversation that Myrnin had with Lady Grey. “I’m not completely sure,” he finally admitted.

“A question everyone probably asks,” said Michael. “Is if there’s a way to go back.” He opened his mouth a bit, fangs coming down to illustrate what he meant before he closed his mouth again. His head tilted, looking Sam over. He seemed tired, one hand still resting on the table and thumb stroking over the wood. “The answer is that there is, but it isn’t a very good wrought to go.”

He seemed to end it there and Sam wondered if that was all he was going to get. But maybe Michael guessed that if he wasn’t the one to tell Samuel than he would continue to look for answers. Maybe that was why he had started to answer Sam in the first place. Because he knew what the boy was like even without having known him for long. If Michael was the one to satisfy his curiosity (was it more than that? Was there hope in Sam’s eyes? Such a dangerous thing that Myrnin wouldn’t have wanted to see) then things would end there. Wouldn’t it?

“It doesn’t work,” he said, taking his hand off the table and putting both hands on his lap. Sam was about to open his mouth, to say … But Michael cut him off. “It doesn’t work often. Seventy-five percent of the time …” He reached out and jabbed a finger at the three letters that detailed deaths. “Then there’s a chance you just stay a vampire. Nothing happens at all. You do have a chance to become human again. I can’t deny that that can happened, but –” And here Sam tried to cut him off but Michael held up a hand, practically spelling out the words as he said, “BUT … but it still doesn’t work.” He leaned forward a bit, looking under Sam’s blanket and at his eyes. “You can’t go back. Your heart isn’t beating, Samuel. It’s been that way for I don’t know how long. You can’t get used to that feeling again. You can’t always remember to breath or remember that if you cut yourself that it won’t just heal up in a couple of seconds. It’s so very hard to go back and if you can’t,” and here he made sure to spell it out for the boy, because if there was fear there than maybe that light in his eyes would go away and Michael would stop worrying. “Then it isn’t always something you can live with. Accident or otherwise … a lot of Daylight Vampires die. Some don’t. But not a lot. And the ones that live aren’t always happy about it.” He sat back up again, crossing one leg over the other, now completely silent. 

Sam looked at him, not sure what to say about all of that. His brain was spinning. From how Michaele had put it the boy wondered if he’d been one of the ones who couldn’t take it. It made sense for how much he knew. But Michaele didn’t seem very optimistic about it even though he was still glancing at that letter about the Toils every now and again as if he wanted to throw it across the room. This – whatever sort of cure it was – made him angry.

But Sam didn’t say anything either. And they were both like that for half an hour before Michael was forced to give into a yawn. He still eyed Sam as he stood up but reached out and ruffled his blond hair before exiting the room. Sam could almost hear the ‘don’t do anything stupid’ even though the words never passed his lips.

Daylight pulled in and Sam pulled the blanket over his head, still sitting there until he heard Claire come down the stairs and into the kitchen, walking in with a neutral expression. Not really any reaction there at all, so Sam wasn’t sure if Michael had told her what happened or not.

“I’m walking you back home,” she said, dipping her head a bit at the blanket. “Need to borrow that for the trip back.” 

Sam shrugged under his make-shift hood and stood up, walking past Claire and toward the door.


Like the lab was home.

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