"What if I can't make it to Laurent?"
"What if right here… on this goddamn hill… I just break? Lose control and become one of them?"
"One of those… vegetables that just stand there staring at the sky?"
"I don't want… I don't want to end like that…"
Ethan's voice cracked like a child's. There was so much exhaustion, fear, and helplessness in it that even Flash was thrown off for a second.
Flash gripped his shoulder harder, almost to the point of pain, and forced Ethan to look him in the eyes.
"Listen to me," he said quietly.
"You're not going to break. Not today and not here. I won't let you."
"I promise you, we will find a way to control this enchanted thing."
"A ritual, an anchor, a seal, whatever it takes. I've seen this before. I know how it works."
"You're not the first and you won't be the last. The most important thing is, don't believe a single word they say. They always lie. You are much stronger than them."
"You're still the man who wants, with everything he has, to find out what happened to the woman he loved."
"Hold on to that thought. We need to get everything out of him, but don't give in to their power!"
He gave Ethan a slight shake to make him focus.
"Do you hear me?"
"Yes, yes… I'm coming back…" Ethan began rubbing his eyes.
"You hear my voice. You're still here. Just try to stay strong. There's nothing I can do for you right now…"
Ethan stared at him for several long seconds, breathing heavily. The visions of the souls slowly began to dissolve, melting into the streams of rain. He straightened up, wiped his face with a wet sleeve, and nodded.
"Okay…" His voice still trembled, but a faint spark of hope had returned.
"Let's go. I'm calm now… for the moment…"
They continued the climb. The hill grew steeper, but soon, through the curtain of rain, the high stone wall of the mansion appeared.
Flash nodded toward the thick ivy growing at the base of the fence.
"There it is, the old gate."
They moved closer. The gate was old and wrought-iron, almost completely hidden under a thick layer of ivy. A heavy rusty chain with a large padlock held it shut.
Flash took out a pair of bolt cutters, positioned the blades around a link, and pressed hard. There was a quiet metallic crunch.
Clink.
The chain fell to the ground.
At that exact moment, a powerful, icy wave of energy shot through Ethan.
The black stake in his hands suddenly grew much heavier and began to vibrate intensely. A jolt ran through his body as if the wood had come alive.
A clear image flashed in his head, three vampires.
They were returning from patrol. One was already approaching the fence from the other side, very close,less than thirty meters away.
Ethan sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes widening.
"Flash…" he whispered tensely, almost in panic.
"They're coming. The stake, it's showing me them. They're returning from patrol." He looked at the piece of wood in confusion.
"Oh God, now you're a fucking Chris Johnson. Can you stop time too?" Flash said with dark irony, adjusting his hat.
"One of them is really close, trust me. I can feel them because of this thing, like they're standing right behind me."
Flash froze instantly, still holding the bolt cutters. His gaze became sharper, more focused.
"Damn it…"
He pushed the gate open. It swung almost silently. They slipped onto the mansion grounds and immediately pressed their backs against the inside of the wall, hiding in the thick shadow of the wet ivy.
And then they saw that two vampires really had just walked past.
"Guess you really are Chris Johnson," Flash spat over his shoulder.
Laurent's estate greeted them with the thick smell of rotting leaves and expensive cigars. The rain fell a little more softly here, the crowns of old trees partially held back the water, but drops still broke through the leaves and fell in cold, heavy slaps onto their shoulders and heads.
High dark-brick walls rose upward, and ahead, behind the black silhouettes of bushes and statues, stood the mansion itself, a huge stone building with lit windows on the second floor.
Flash immediately pressed his back to the wall and raised a hand in a stop signal. Ethan stood beside him, clutching the black stake tightly to his chest.
They spotted the first guard almost immediately.
He was standing by the wall ten meters away, under a small stone overhang, smoking. The tip of his cigarette glowed every time he took a drag, lighting up his face and short beard.
His rifle hung from his shoulder, his hands relaxed. He clearly wasn't expecting visitors in this weather. Smoke from the cigarette mixed with the rain and drifted slowly upward.
Flash didn't wait.
He moved forward silently, like a shadow. His feet stepped softly, barely leaving marks on the wet ground. Ethan stayed by the wall.
It was over in two seconds.
Flash appeared behind the guard like a ghost. His left arm clamped over the man's mouth, silencing any sound. His right hand delivered a precise strike with the base of the palm under the ear.
Crack!
The guard jerked once, twice, and nearly collapsed. Flash carefully lowered the body to the ground and propped it against the wall, as if the man had simply decided to rest while drunk.
Ethan stood to the side and watched.
The black stake in his hands suddenly began to quietly gather smoke. Thin, almost invisible black streams rose from the cracks in the wood, curling around Ethan's wrists before slowly being drawn back into the stake.
It was as if the weapon was absorbing the guard's soul. Ethan felt a wave of pleasure, almost satisfaction, run through his arm after the absorption.
[Chris Johnson — a character from the movie The Prophet, who could see two minutes into the future.]