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Into The Night. 2
Elliot awoke the next night with a start, he hit his head hard on the roof of his bed and groaned in agony as he quickly receded to lay down and hold his forehead. “I have got to talk to Maxwell tonight…” He mumbled to himself as he rose properly out of his bed. He looked about and got ready, as he put on his final garment; his coat; his hand brushed his jaw and hit his newfound injury.

“Defiantly need to talk to Maxwell.” He thought as he let out another groan of pain. Walking out the door, he left with a much faster gait than the night before. For he had a long distance to cover, mostly 3 miles of nothing but road, all the way to the hospital on the corner, where Dr. Maxwell Jennings lived, the ever disgusting and rather rude Maxwell, Elliott, knows him well, always reminded of just how much he really needs Maxwell every time he can’t get a proper meal. He side glanced his watch, 11:04 the clock gleamed matter-o-factly, Elliott was rather troubled by having to visit him so late in the evening, so hastily began to sprint, his legs and body moving so fast he no longer touched the ground, he was now levitated and began to pedal at the air like an invisible bike. Soon enough he came to a halt nearly falling flat on his face from the sudden stop, 11:15, the clock above the door to the hospital read, Elliott glanced his watch to see it true. Elliott walked up the old creaked wooden stairs; the building was rather small for a hospital, but the perfect size for such a small England town like Millersville. Elliott rapped on the door a few times and waited patiently, then rapped again, soon a nurse opened the door and greeted him.

“Good evening sir, is there an emergency at this time?”

“None here just came to visit Dr. Maxwell. Could you be so kind as to fetch him for me?” The nurse bowed her head apologetically,

“I am sorry sir, the Doctor said he wouldn’t have guests tonight unless it was a dire emergency. You will have to take your business with him tomorrow.”

“I implore you,” Elliott said obviously losing patience. “Please fetch Mr. Jennings, Tell him it is Voltaire who visits.” The young nurse, disgruntled, went off to fetch the doctor who was waiting in his room. Elliott could see a light upstairs come on and with his acute hearing could hear Maxwell shuffle and cuss about his unexpected arrival.

“Elliott! I wasn’t expecting you so late in the evening.” Maxwell yelled as he began his decent down the stairs while throwing on trousers still shirtless, Maxwell dismissed his nurse to leave and tend to other affairs, Elliott only rolled his eyes,

“Maxwell, why is it whenever I come you always seem to be without some article of clothing?” Maxwell grinned, he was a fairly tall man, slightly taller than Elliott; he was built and muscular in body, all of him was fine except for his bright red hair, it seemed to glow like fire, a carrot fire as Elliott described it, short and tousled to the side. He bore no freckles and no glasses, but had a scar on his neck, just like Elliott’s only worse, like his had been torn, not just punctured. A gash left behind, turned into a scar he used to attract women, claiming it was from a fierce bout with a bear, or a battle scar from war with Americans. Maxwell lit a cigar and stood in front of Elliott, who only furrowed his brow in response.

“Maybe I just do it to make you happy.” Maxwell giggled, Elliott was not amused.

“I came to you for help, my food decided to fight back last night, and it left me a nasty scratch on my cheek.” Maxwell put his cigar in an ash tray and grabbed Elliott’s lower jaw, turning his head to the side,

“Doesn’t look that bad, for us it’ll heal in a day or two. Don’t know why you’d come to me, unless that's not the real reason you came to me...” He whispered.

“Maxwell, For once be serious.”

“What about Eli? Nothing happens these days; I’m stuck at home with cunts and whores, while you are forced to stay in the dark and eat all those around you.” Though Maxwell was nothing but a pervert, his words stung, they meant something.

“I’ve been having dreams about him again…” Elliott trailed off, his voice becoming distant.

“So what? You think the guy who killed your wife and kid are back?” Maxwell yammered as he lay lazily on the couch putting his feet on the arm rest. “Forget him, they’re dead Elliott, and nothing’s going to bring them back, that whore you married and that maddened child she conceived are gone and in the ground.” Maxwell went on as he lit a fine cigar from a table near him, he smoked, letting rings of gag worthy air surround him, Elliott felt hot blood, his fangs came slinking outward and his eyes darkened to crimson, he clenched his fists and sprung, grabbing Maxwell by the neck and all in one motion swung his body to the rug, letting his cigar fly to the floor. Maxwell barely even gagged he just breathed normally. “What are you doing Eli? Track him? You don’t even remember what he looks like. You could be chasing yourself for all you know.”

“You’re accusing me of murdering my own wife and son!” Elliott yelled. Maxwell smiled in amusement,

“I can neither confirm nor deny.” Elliott picked up Maxwell’s head meaning to smash it into the floor, “Think Elliott, you really want to kill me?” Maxwell gleamed as he let his own fangs slide downward. Elliott hesitated and let him go, just letting Maxwell lay still to catch his breath.

“I apologize Maxwell. I know full well I was wrong.” Elliott sighed as he sat onto a chair and looked outward to the night fixated on the moon.

“Oh, Eli.” Maxwell huffed as he rose to his feet and grabbed his cigar which made a burn mark in the floor. He frowned and put it out in an ashtray, Elliott looked back,

“I just feel like he’s near, the only thing I remember of him was the tattoo on his neck. Angel wings, coming from the sides of his bite marks…” Maxwell sat quickly his face twisted in confusion,

“Eli, you never told me this…”

“That’s cause I noticed it in my dream of him last night, when he killed my son…” Elliott sighed.

“So that’s why you wanted to see me? To tell me you finally remember something about this man? Elliott, I’m not going to help you cross the globe so you can kill a man you don’t even know.”

“I didn’t expect you to.” Elliott breathed and got up from his seat, heading out the door, Maxwell began to think.

“Elliott!” Maxwell called out, Elliott stopped dead in his tracks,

“Yes, Maxwell?”

“Stay for the night, dawn will break soon, best not get caught.” Elliott only smiled at his dear friends actions. Elliott tipped his hat off and hung it and his coat near the door, they took off and trudged down into Maxwell’s cellar, there in the middle of the blackness, were two coffins, one a dark cedar the other a rustic mahogany,

“Reminds you of days of yore huh?” Maxwell said as he walked in the darkness with ease to the darker of the two, sliding it open to find Maxwell’s comfortable bed awaiting him. Elliott only smiled,

“Only too much does it remind me…” He said as he approached his old coffin, opening it and smelling rosemary, the smell of his old home. The smell of a time when he lived with his wife and child in a small farm home, before all this, Elliott sighed and slid inside and slid the top shut, encasing himself into a tighter and snugger fit than his home bed. Soon and with almost despair he drifted to sleep fully knowing of the nightmares that would replace his dreams that night.

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