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Twirling around under the sparkling lights, Petra’s smile could not have been brighter. Christmas season had come again and her father would be coming home from his business trip just to celebrate with her and her mother. She wore her best new dress to greet him in. Lynn came running down the stairs, pinning on her earrings as she moved.

“Come on Petra, he’ll be home soon,” the older woman insisted. She looked so tired these days. She drank plenty and still slept enough. Yet, it was hard not to notice the creased brow and more somber expression her face bore these days. Petra was now twelve-years-old. In the years that had passed things had changed quite a bit. Her father got worse rather than better. Things had gotten to the point of Lynn waiting for the trips he took so she could have him away. Just so she didn’t have to hear his anger anymore.

Petra silently followed her mother to the door, where they waited. He would have been upset with them if they hadn’t answered the door quickly enough. He liked to find these little things to gripe about during the day. The two of them could only hope that the holiday spirit would tame him for a while. At least enough so he didn’t go off again.

The bell rang and Lynn sprang up to grab it. First at the door was the human driver, carrying all of the bags. Carter followed behind him, a scowl on his face and a briefcase in his hand. He didn’t lean in to kiss Lynn on the cheek or bend down to hug his little girl. Instead he merely pushed his way through the door as they welcomed him home.

“How was the trip?” his wife asked, trying to remain pleasant.

“It would have been fine, except some idiots got together to give me a waste of time presentation one day that took up hours of my good time,” he grumbled, handing the briefcase to a butler. “I guess they thought they were brilliant for suggesting that we hire daywalkers for maximum productivity. They work while we sleep. Sure, that makes sense if you want humans or whatever else ruining everything we work hard on so we have twice the work to do come sundown. What tripe.”

“Carter, I highly doubt they would ruin everything you did. I mean, you would get to screen them and make sure they’re trained. Set them to your standards, make sure they’re-” Carter shot Lynn a hard look that stopped her from speaking. She grimaced and cleared her throat. “If you make sure they’re what you’re looking for you will be able to get what you want out of them. Isn’t that right?"

“If they weren’t idiots to begin with, then sure. Brilliant idea, fill the office with useless, stupid humans. But hey, at least if they stay late we get fed!” Carter shouted.

“Carter!” Lynn shouted, covering Petra’s ears. “I was a human once too. I know you don’t know what it was like but I do. Feeding from humans, especially with the intention of killing them, is wrong. It hasn’t been until today that I ever thought you would disagree with me.”

“Maybe you were human once, but you aren’t anymore. You’re a vampire, so act like one!”

Petra slid away as quickly as she could. Her parents became too lost in their argument to even notice her. She hurried to her room and felt the tears spilling over. Those fights were only going to become more and more frequent. Somewhere in her mind Petra knew this. And she hated that fact. If only she could stop her father from being so angry or change his mind about vampire superiority. Anything that would make her feel less useless.

About an hour later, a knock came to the door. Her father stood with a box in his hands. It was covered in fancy paper and beautiful ribbon. Whatever was inside was sure to be expensive. Petra didn’t want this gift, not when there were so many other things she wanted from him first. She wanted things money couldn’t buy, that couldn’t be wrapped in a box, that couldn’t have ribbon tied around them. Yet, this was all her father could do for the time being, and Petra would accept that this year.

“Thought I’d give you your gift early, to apologize for arguing with your mother. I know it upsets you and we don’t like doing it either. Anyway, Merry Christmas darling,” he said, extending the box out to her. She took it, quietly thanking him, then watched him walk away from her room. Closing the door she returned to her bed. Petra pulled the ribbon from the box before tying it up in her hair. Lifting the box lid, she examined its contents.

It was a set of nine crystal bells, arranged in order of size and pitch. She picked up the smallest one first, ringing it gently. It made the most beautiful sound. On another day she might have run from her room to hug her father and thank him properly. But tonight she didn’t even want to look at him anymore. He’d suggested drinking from humans, probably to the point of death. Something she’d been taught by her mother since birth was wrong. The anti-werewolf sentiment, the vampire superiority complex he had, she could handle those things. The killing of more sentient creatures, however, was something she could not allow her father to even suggest.

She felt a sour taste in her mouth. Reboxing the bells, she shoved them under her bed. Petra would be able to fully appreciate them when she didn’t feel so disgusted with her father. Though the night was young and she had plenty to do, at the moment all she wanted to do was fly. Petra flung open her window and transformed, feeling the cold winter night against her wings.

Many years earlier…

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get the whole set. But if you want, maybe next year I can get you another one. And the year after that, too,” said the young vampire, blushing as the girl he liked looked over the bell.

“Carter, it’s beautiful! You don’t need to get me anything else. It’s perfect,” the red-haired vampire responded. She leaned over and kissed him on the nose.

“Okay, but just so you know, the other nine are on reserve under my name. And I can renew the reserve for a dollar every month. As soon as I have the money, I’ll get them for you. I promise.”

“Really, you don’t have to. If anything you should give them to someone else. Maybe a girl you like or something.”

Carter’s face was beet red. He figured there was no better time to say it. “But… you’re the girl that I like, Lynn.” The redhead froze, redirecting her violet eyes from the crystal bell back to him.

“You… You like me?” Lynn said in disbelief. Carter nodded shyly. In an instant Lynn had thrown her arms around the boy to kiss him hard, the bell chiming as it swung around in her still tight grip. They froze there for a while. She had known for a while, her disbelief was not in the words he said yet in the simple fact that he had spoken them. Lynn had just been waiting to hear him say it. She’d waited so long she’d lost all control when he finally did.

Pulling back she grinned wide. Months later, they were still together when Carter had hocked off some old things of his and earned enough money from small jobs that he bought the bells. He kept them secret from Lynn for a while though. He wanted to give them to her when it was the perfect moment. Moments passed, then those moments made up memories of passing years until Carter found himself cleaning out an old closet, searching for something he needed for an important meeting.

An old box was just underneath some old jackets, labeled “For the most important girl in my life.” Usually the first thought in his mind would have been Lynn, but in recent years it had become his Baby Bat, Petra. He remembered the contents instantly. He took it out, giving it to one of the servants to have it wrapped at a nice store.

“Have them cover the words with paper but leave them there,” Carter instructed. “And label the tag with Petra’s name.” Then place it back on the top shelf of this closet.” He decided it would be best to wait for Christmas. Then he would tell her the story of how her parents started dating. After all, things around the Thornton household were always better around the holidays.

It was all quiet in the longhouse, well maybe quiet wasn't the word. It was never quiet around here, there was nothing out of the ordinary though. There were a handful of musicians practicing over by the hearth, and Jack had spent the last twenty minutes cutting wood for the central fire. A large towering figure of a man, his father Magnús Valgárdson, was just back from organising the decoration of one of the newer trees in the forest to appease the sprites, as was traditional at Yule. The reason for this was that one of the largest trees was chosen every year to be burnt as the yule log, and any sprites that had set up home inside it had to be 'persuaded' to move out. It seemed that decorating a tree with preserved fruits and nuts worked quite the treat!

Swinging the small hatchet axe down for the final time, the gangly, long haired, eleven year old heard lots of cheering as the other villagers returned, obviously successful in their tree felling.
"Far! Have you seen Bestefar? He's still not back yet." Jack said in a mixture of worry and annoyance. His Bestefar, Grandfather, was the village elder, and at 78 was still the strongest person for miles around by far. Jack wasn't worried for his Grandfathers safety, no, he was worried his Grandfather would piss off the elves again. Last time they had to suffer their meat all tasting like cabbage for months...

"Nope, he left before us... I hope he's steering clear of the court's territory though. I don't think I can face cabbage again thanks to that," his father replied opening the door to the longhouse to join the congregation outside. He was a large man, incredibly large, at least six and a half feet by Jacks reckoning and maybe seven if he had his helm on. Like most of the men in the village Magnús had an impressive beard, two thick blond pleats jutted out from his chin before curling back towards his chest.

Plunking the hatchet down into the cutting block, Jack scratched the side of his head as his fears were met with like. Following him outside into the still falling snow, Jack thought a bit more on the subject.
"That's what I was worried about. Surely it doesn't take THIS long to hunt out the Yule feast?" he asked. In front of them both, the rest of the men were heaving a massive log into the village, in fact it was more or less just a huge tree with the branches trimmed off. The Yule Log, it was lit on the first day of Yule, and the party didn't finish till it went out, hence it's size. Vikings really liked to party.

"Trekke!... Trekke!... Trekke!..."

Their voices rang out in unison as the tree was pulled into the centre of the village. It would be lit tonight using the wood Jack had prepared, along with the wood from various other kids around the village.

Looking up at the snow lazily floating down from the twilight sky, Jack caught a sound on the wind, a gentle tingle.
"Wait!... You hear that?" Jack shouted, gathering the attention of the surrounding crowd as the log was pushed into it's final position. A murmured silence fell as curiosity caught everyone, some of the more 'battle ready' men resting their hands on the hilt of their swords.
"Bells?" A young girl around Jacks age asked quietly.
"Yyyep, that's bells. Everybody get ready, Valgárd is returning!" Magnús shouted, getting the attention of everyone present.

Tension crept in, was the hunt a success? had the old man finally been injured beyond repair? Had he pissed off the court again?

The gentle jingle grew louder as he approached, the dull thudding of the Dire Wolf's paws as his sled was pulled through the snow. Then, there sounded a mighty cry...

"Mat til alle!!"

The cry rang from the village gate followed by a deafening howl as a towering wolf galloped into view. Tethered into a large harness, the beast pulled behind it a small sleigh with a single rider, and tied to that a larger makeshift sled that carried a misshapen mound of, something.

"Do you hear that? 'Food for all' he said! The hunt was a success!" Cheered one of the crowd, and it was quickly matched by shouts and cheers from everyone else. the elder had returned victorious.

"Bestefar!" Jack shouted running towards the sleigh as it ground to a halt in the rough ground behind the Yule Log. "Wooow! It's huge! How'd you kill it?" Jack said with masses of enthusiasm as the old man stepped down to meet his Grandson. His deep red coat studded with lots of silver bells stretching down past his knees jingled merrily as he moved, and his silver beard was so long that it had been wrapped around his own neck numerous like a scarf. His heavy boots thumped into the snow as the surprisingly short man turned to meet Jack. This was Valgárd, the village elder, their leader, and Jack's Grandgather.

Smiling with a huge toothy grin Valgárd laughed loudly.
"With guts! Guts, Son! And a ******** big blade!" Valgárd roared as he picked up jack, who was only an inch or two off his own height, into a spinning embrace, when suddenly something twinged and Jack found himself falling sideways into the side of Hróðvitnir, the wold that pulled his Grandfathers sleigh.

"Far! are you alright?" Magnús called running to pick up his fallen father. Valgárd clutched a hand to his side with a troubled look on his face, it was as if he'd never felt pain before.
"Here let me see, quickly Old man, move your bloody hands!" Magnús said hurriedly as he propped up his father.

"Back up you idiot I'm fine!"
"But! You sid-"
"I'm fine!" Magnús found himself being pushed back before he could do anything...

Turning his attention back to his side, Valgárd fiddled with his coat before pulling out a small steel flask with a long white point embedded right in it's centre, a tooth. It was almost five inches long!

"Hope you haven't bought my gift yet, hahaha! Like I'd ******** die, haha!" Valgárd roared with laughter at what seemed to be a prank, clearly the old man knew about the flask all along and was saving it for this exact moment.

"You cheeky old b*****d!" Magnús shouted before bursting into laughter with the rest of the crowd. Jack, righting himself from the snow and frantic licks of Hróðvitnir, looked around in slight confusion, having missed just about everything.



"...and while Hróðvitnir held tha ******** doon, I took wan swing, wan bloody swing, and cut the bastards body aff!" Valgárd said for the hundredth time tonight. He was pissed out his face on a keg of mead, and when he got drunk he told stories. The group of children he was sluring at in his old man accent didn't seem to mind though, they were engrossed on how their invincible elder had taken out the Hydra that had been served up as the Yule Feast.
"You see, cut a Hydra's heed aff an' another grows right ******** back, but... Cut it's body aff? Ha! Grow that back ya arsehole!" He added while swinging a fork about like it was his prized halberd.

Sitting down a few seats over, Jack laughed at the now much less threatening old man. With the large coat off, which incidentally was not red when he left in the morning, his Grandfather looked quite normal, well normal for an ancient Viking. His arms were laced with scars and were a lot more muscular than they should be for someone in their late seventies. What was probably the most hilarious thing was the choice of foot wear he had on, pink fluffy slippers with small love hearts sewn into them. They were a present from Jacks mother, and in Valgárd's eyes Jack's mother was an angel. He loved those tacky slippers.

Taking a large bite of Hydra steak, Jack glanced over at the blood red coat hanging near the longhouse door, his mind was drawn back to the bells, for some reason his Grandfather sewed them onto his coat every Yule, but took them off again straight after the hunt.
"Bestefar, I've been wondering, but what are the bells for? On your coat I mean," he asked curiously.

Leaning away from the surrounding kids, Valgárd motioned for Jack to lean his ear over. Whispering quietly, the old man let Jack in on his little secret.
"It would be boring otherwise. Gotta give the old Dragons something to level the playing field, eh? It's more fun when they can hear you coming, eheh-heh-heh.." Valgárd chuckled quietly, clearly there was a lot of fight left in the old man.

This was his Grandfather, their village elder, this was Valgárd, Valgárd the Dragonblood...

"Perhaps it's about time I invested in expanding my library," Asmodeous muttered as he sat at his desk. He was spending his time thumbing through the all too familiar pages of one Paradise Lost for possibly the four hundred and sixty-ninth time since it had been in his personal library.

Antony was busying himself dusting all the little knick knacks and ornaments littered about the room, hardly paying attention to his lethargic lord and his qualms. "Or perhaps sire, you could go out and make some new friends?" Asmodeous blew a raspberry in response to him, harshly turning the next worn page. "...or I guess not."

"This is a high school, right? Aren't kids their age supposed to be throwing parties, getting high, and ******** anything that moves? What happened to that?" The Prince inquiried as he let the book flop onto his desk without care, leaning back in his chest as he cross one leg over the other knee.

"Perhaps that died with the seventies. Or the bossman found a school that desperately needed your attention," added Antony as he moved around the room, dusting his liquor cabinet and glasses despite having minimal dust on them. This however perked Asmodeous's interest.

"Antony, bring over eight glasses and a bottle of wine." Not one to question his lord in any given circumstance he brought the requested items and watched as his Prince set to work.

"May I be so privy as to ask what you are doing?" Asked Antony quietly, not wanting to seem very rude in his questioning.

"I am bored Antony, and I may have found the solution to my boredom." As he spoke he set to work filling up the eight glasses with varying heights of liquid. Water would have just been too much work, and he had plenty of win anyway. Besides, he could probably drink all of it on his own in one sitting anyway.

Lining up the glasses from least full to fullest, he grabbed a pen off his desk and tapped each glass in turn. All the glasses made different pitches and increased in frequency as the amount of wine decreased. It was a pretty shoddy piece of work, but a knock off version of bells with wine glasses was better than solemn silence.

"Now, to test it out." As he spoke, Asmodeous began tapping out the rhythm of the all famous Ukrainian Bell Carol. Humming along as he tapped out the song, he came across something puzzling. It just didn't sound quite right.

"It's supposed to go ding dee dee dee, not ding dee dee doh." He frowned as he sat there completely puzzled. As he did so, there was a gentle rapping at his door. He gave a word to grant permission to enter, and in walked an unfamiliar man with blonde hair and striking green eyes.

"Need something?" His head did not move from staring at the glasses, still tapping away to figure out which note he was playing wrong or if his ears were off.

"I was curious if you had schedules prepared for next semester. I'm curious who is in my classes. That's all," Gerry replied quaintly. He thought it was odd the activities the guidance counselor decided to do in his spare time, but he passed no judgement. It was probably no more strange than studying the dead in his spare time.

Asmodeous shrugged his shoulders and made a glance towards the cabinet where he kept schedules. Since the start of the winter break while all the little children went home to their mommies and daddies, if they had them that is, Asmodeous was hard at work getting those little s**t their schedules ready.

"I have so many done right now. What's your name?" His voice held a hint of impatience, making it obvious this was the last thing he wanted to be doing.

"Gerwald Draconious. The Third that is." He replied as he sat down in the chair on the other side of his desk, still puzzling over his tapping.

"Draconious...no, haven't got anybody placed in your classes yet. Are you the choir teacher by any chance?" Asmodeous spends many bored days reading personal files, so once he knew your name he knew quite a lot of pointless information about you.

"Yes I am. Why do you ask?" His head cocked to the side in puzzlement.

"I'm trying to play a bell song on glasses and it doesn't sound right. Could you listen for me?" Asmodeous asked kindly, actually being genuine in his request for once in his life.

"I can certainly give it a try." Asmodeous then proceeded to play for him the part that was being difficult, and Gerry nodded his head in consideration. "I believe you need to take away wine from that glass to raise the pitch. Here." Gerry picked up the glass of wine and sipped it to get rid of some of the contents and set it back down. "Now try."

Asmodeous then played the piece over again and smiled with jubilation as he heard the piece sound as it was originally intended. "Thank you, that was going to bother me for a while if I didn't get it straightened out."

Gerry nodded his head in response. "Of course. Well, I suppose I'll be going now." Gerry got up to leave the room when something on his desk caught his eye. "I don't mean to intrude but, is that Paradise Lost you're reading there?"

"It is. I've read that book more times than you could possibly imagine," he answered as he continued to play on the glasses, moving over to imitate some song he'd heard on the radio that day.

"I didn't realize anyone else around here had an eye for classic literature. Do you also adore the fact that it's protagonist is an anti-hero, or is that just myself?" Asmodeous could hear the excitement in his voice increase as the man talked about the book, and a smile spread across his face. Especially when he mentioned his love for the anti-hero.

"Why don't you stay for a while, drink some of this wine, and we can make a time of it? What do you say, Mr. Draconious?" He spoke with mirth in his voice, glad to be bringing another person closer to himself.

Gerry returned to his chair and pulled up closer to the desk, grasping one of the half full glasses of wine on his desk. "I would be delighted to do so."