Chapter 12 – Blood In The Vents

The room was a mess of breath and silence.

Max stood by the window, scanning the corridor beyond the shattered glass. Victor paced near the door like a caged animal, shoulders tense, claws half-shifted. Dan crouched near the teens, his golden aura flickering low but steady.

Jack sat on the edge of Liz’s bed, pale, still holding the IV pole like a bat. His hands trembled. Chloe hadn’t moved from her place beside Liz. Alyssa kept staring at the vent like it might start moving again.

No one spoke.

Then Jack coughed – once, sharp and awkward. “So… do we talk about the spider nightmare that tried to eat us, or…?”

Alyssa shot him a look, but it was tired, not sharp. Chloe gave a watery laugh. It didn’t last.

Max finally turned. “That wasn’t the last one. There are more.”

Jack blinked. “More spiders?”

“More demons.”

That shut everyone up again.

Max stepped forward, his voice quieter now. “What you saw – what attacked you – isn’t supposed to exist in this world. It only got in because the veil between our reality and theirs is breaking down.”

“You sound like a cult leader,” Jack muttered.

Max looked at him. “I’m the one trying to keep you alive.”

“By glowing?” Jack nodded toward Dan. “Because not to be weird, but your friend is full-on Twilight sparkle right now.”

Dan offered a tired smile. “It’s healing energy. Angelic stuff. I guess.”

Chloe looked up. “Are you… are you angels?”

“No,” Victor grunted. “We’re just people who survived.”

Max ignored him. “We have power. And that means we fight back.”

Alyssa crossed her arms. “You’re saying demons are real. Magic is real. Liz isn’t sick – she’s cursed or something.”

“She made a deal,” Chloe said quietly.

Everyone looked at her.

Chloe’s voice was barely a whisper. “A bad one. To bring someone back. Her mom.”

Max’s jaw tightened.

Alyssa looked furious – not at Max, but at herself. “Why didn’t she tell us?”

“She tried to protect us,” Chloe said. “But she opened a door she couldn’t close. And now you’re all caught in it.”

Another silence stretched.

Then Jack rubbed the back of his neck and gave a forced laugh. “This is so far above my pay grade.”

He looked at Chloe. “You remember that time Liz dared us to spend the night in that haunted theatre – the Roxy?”

Chloe smiled faintly. “You wet yourself when the curtain moved.”

“It moved by itself!”

“It was wind,” Alyssa snapped, but the corner of her mouth twitched.

Jack shrugged. “Point is… we’ve been scared before. This is just scarier.”

He paused.

“Still not leaving.”

Chloe reached out and took his hand.

The vent creaked.

Max spun around.

Victor froze mid-step.

Dan stood, golden aura flaring.

Click.

Clickclick.

Clickclickclick.

Max raised his arm to shield the teens. “Everyone behind me. Now.”

The wall above Liz’s bed began to groan.

Metal bent.

The nightmare wasn’t done yet.

…………………

It came back wrong.

Not with a screech or a roar but with silence so thick it crushed the air.

The vent above Liz’s bed warped outward, metal screeching like a wounded animal. Then a limb unfolded from the dark. Spindly. Black. Gleaming like bone dipped in oil.

Max barely had time to raise a barrier of soulfire before it dropped.

The demon hit the floor with a wet thud.

It stood tall this time.

Twice the size it had been before. Its spine arched like a scorpion’s tail, and its arms dragged the ground – long and jointed in the wrong places. Its face – if it could be called that – had melted further. Lips peeled back into a permanent rictus. No eyes now. Just sockets that wept black fluid.

But it knew them.

It remembered.

“Back!” Max shouted, raising his arm – a flash of yellow fire erupting from his palm.

The demon hissed, flinched but didn’t flee. Not this time.

It lunged.

Victor met it halfway, a blur of muscle and fang. The floor cracked beneath him as he slammed into the demon’s chest, knocking it back into the corner. They crashed against the medical cabinets, steel exploding into twisted shrapnel.

Victor roared, slashing down with clawed hands – one, two, three strikes – but the thing didn’t bleed like anything alive. It moved like water and bone.

It reared back and spat something – a stream of oily black bile – right into Victor’s face.

He howled, staggered.

Dan moved, eyes glowing bright now. He threw out a hand – a pulse of golden light swept across the room like a wave, blasting the bile away before it could hit anyone else.

“Max—!” he shouted. “It’s not scared anymore!”

Max clenched his fists. Fire raced down his arms, but he didn’t launch yet – not with the kids so close.

“Alyssa, Chloe, Jack – move! Get to the corner!”

Alyssa pulled Chloe toward the wall. Jack started to follow – but then he stopped.

His eyes locked on Liz.

The demon saw it.

It turned.

Faster than thought, it surged forward – straight at the bed.

Max moved. So did Dan. So did Victor, still shaking off the bile.

But Jack moved faster.

He stepped in front of Liz.

Raised the IV pole like a spear.

And screamed, “NO!”

The demon didn’t hesitate.

Its claw went straight through him.

Right through his chest.

The room froze.

Alyssa screamed. Chloe collapsed to her knees.

Jack looked down.

His hands were red.

The IV pole clattered to the floor.

He slumped forward – against the creature – and for one terrifying second, it held him there, like a trophy. Like proof.

Then it let him go.

Jack dropped to the floor with a hollow sound. Like a sack of wet rags. His blood spread quickly.

Max’s brain stuttered.

Dan moved. So fast he was a blur. Hands already glowing gold, pressing against Jack’s chest.

“No. No. Stay with me. You’re not done yet.”

Victor roared, tearing into the demon again – this time with no mercy, no hesitation.

But Max couldn’t move.

Just a dumb, awkward kid who still carried a paper crane in his hoodie and made bad jokes in haunted hospitals.

And now he was dying.

…………………

The demon never saw Max coming.

One second it had Jack in its claws – the boy writhing, blood cascading from shredded flesh, the sound of torn meat filling the air.

The next, Max hit it like a meteor.

Hellfire exploded.

The creature shrieked, lurching back from its prey as hellish yellow flame engulfed half its body. It thrashed against the wall, limbs scraping tile and steel, trying to extinguish the unearthly fire but it clung like judgment.

Max didn't speak.

He didn't shout.

He moved like death.

The kind that didn’t come to bargain.

With a single step, he closed the distance and drove his fist into the demon’s chest. Bones shattered. The thing howled, writhing, its ribcage caving in like wet plaster under the force. Its claws lashed out wildly, slicing across Max’s side but he didn’t slow.

His eyes burned brighter than the flames.

“You touched them,” he muttered, low and cold.

The demon screeched again, scrabbling backward, smoke pouring from its eye sockets, from its throat.

Max grabbed the creature by the skull – both hands – and dragged it downward, slamming its head into the floor hard enough to crack tile.

Then again.

And again.

Until the shrieking stopped.

The flames didn’t.

The hellfire roared to life, consuming the demon from the inside out. The corpse twitched once – then collapsed into a heap of ash, its bones flaking into smoke and its mouth frozen in a silent scream.

The heat seared the floor. Melted plastic. Singed the edge of Jack’s hoodie.

Max stood over the remains, chest heaving.

A thin line of blood ran from his jaw, ignored.

Behind him, Dan knelt beside Jack, hands glowing like small suns.

Victor stood by the window, claws still extended, eyes wide with the kind of awe you reserve for gods or monsters.

Max didn’t speak.

He just turned around, shoulders rising and falling with the rhythm of someone holding back something worse than pain.

Dan looked up, eyes frantic.

“Max. He’s – he’s still alive. Barely.”

Max was already moving.

He dropped beside them and saw the truth.

Jack’s body was ruined. One side of his chest was caved in. His abdomen looked like it had been run through a meat grinder. Blood soaked through the towel Dan had pressed to the wound. His breathing was wet and shallow, eyes fluttering, lips pale.

Dan was glowing so brightly now it hurt to look at him.

“Don’t let him die,” Max whispered.

“I’m trying.”

Dan's hands hovered over Jack's chest. The light pulsed harder. He was pouring everything in – soul energy, power, even pieces of himself.

“Come on, kid,” he murmured. “Come on…”

Jack coughed weakly. Blood ran from the corner of his mouth.

Max took his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Jack’s eyes opened – just a sliver.

He looked at Max.

Then at Dan.

Then toward the bed.

Toward Liz.

His lips moved.

No sound.

Max leaned in.

He heard it.

“Did… she see?”

And then he stopped breathing.

Dan’s light flickered.

And went out.

“No,” Dan whispered. “No, no, no—”

But it was done.

Jack was gone.

And the room was suddenly very, very quiet.

…………………

Dan didn’t move.

He knelt in blood, hands pressed against Jack’s chest, golden light pulsing between his fingers in desperate bursts. His face was pale, soaked in sweat, trembling with effort he didn’t understand. Not yet. Not fully.

This was the first time.

The first time he’d tried.

And it wasn’t working.

“Come on,” he whispered. “Come on, breathe…”

Jack didn’t.

The light wasn’t touching him. It wrapped around shredded skin, sunk into crushed ribs, flowed into the yawning wound across his stomach but the boy beneath it was already too far gone. His eyes stared blankly upward, glazed. Unseeing.

Dan grit his teeth. “I can do this. I have to.”

Max hovered nearby, fists clenched. He wanted to step in. Stop him. Say something. But he didn’t.

He remembered what it felt like to lose the first one. And how no words ever made it better.

Dan pressed harder, fingers splayed wide, like he could channel the light deeper just by sheer will. Gold poured out of him in frantic waves, each one dimmer than the last.

“I saw what this light could do,” Dan muttered. “I stopped a broken rib from puncturing my own lung this morning. I felt it fix me.”

He shook. His glow flickered, stuttered.

“But this is different,” he whispered. “He’s not just hurt. He’s…”

He couldn’t say the word.

He wouldn’t.

So he pushed harder.

The golden aura flared.

Chloe sobbed quietly in the corner. Alyssa held her, knuckles white where she gripped her sister’s jacket, like the act of not looking was all that kept her from falling apart.

Victor stood by the door, unmoving. Watchful. A silent wall.

Max stepped closer. “Dan—”

“No,” Dan hissed. “Not yet.”

His hands began to shake violently. His vision blurred.

He knew healing.

And this wasn’t healing anymore.

This was resurrection.

And it was killing Dan.

Max crouched beside him. “You can’t bring back what’s already gone.”

“I have to,” Dan growled. “I can feel something. A spark. A—” His voice cracked. “A thread. I swear it’s still there—”

“No, Dan. It’s not.”

The golden light erupted one final time – a brilliant flare that illuminated the room like sunrise.

Then it shattered.

It didn’t explode. It just… stopped.

Faded.

Like the light had realized it couldn’t do what was being asked.

Dan collapsed forward, catching himself on his palms.

The glow was gone.

So was Jack.

Max placed a hand gently on Dan’s shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault.”

“I was given this power to save people,” Dan rasped. “That’s what this was supposed to mean.”

“You did save people. You saved Victor. You saved Chloe and Alyssa. And you’ll save more.”

Dan shook his head slowly. His eyes were wet.

“But not him.”

Victor stepped forward and knelt beside them. Without a word, he draped a blanket from one of the overturned gurneys across Jack’s still form. Covered the wounds. Covered the eyes.

Max looked down at the small, awkward kid who had died trying to be brave.

“Jack didn’t run,” he said. “He stood between a demon and the people he cared about. That matters.”

Chloe’s breath hitched.

Alyssa didn’t speak. She just pulled her twin closer.

Dan wiped his face, then looked at his hands like they were traitors.

“He was the first,” he whispered. “And I lost him.”

Max met his gaze.

“Then don’t lose the next one.”

The room fell quiet.

The war outside was still raging. But in this room, a boy had died, and something in all of them had changed.

Forever.

…………………

They didn’t move for a long time.

Max stood against the far wall, staring at nothing. His fists were clenched so tight the skin over his knuckles had split, blood trailing down his forearms, mingling with the ash on the floor.

Dan sat slumped beside Jack’s body. The flickers of golden light were gone – not drained but abandoned. Just a boy again. Just a man kneeling in blood, knowing it hadn’t been enough. His shoulders shook with the weight of it.

Victor had shifted back to his human form. Barefoot. Shirtless. Bruised. He leaned against the cracked window frame, eyes locked on the ruined city skyline, jaw tight with barely suppressed rage.

Chloe knelt on the floor, one hand resting on Jack’s blanket-covered chest. Her face was unreadable. Not crying anymore – not really. Just empty.

Alyssa was beside her, one arm looped protectively around her shoulders, the other gripping Liz’s bed rail like it was the only thing keeping her tethered to reality.

No one spoke.

No one moved.

Eventually, Max broke the silence.

“We bury him. Tonight.”

Victor nodded once. “I’ll find a spot.”

“I’ll help,” Dan murmured, voice raw.

Max looked at Chloe and Alyssa. “You don’t have to see it.”

Alyssa looked up slowly. Her voice was quiet, but clear. “We do.”

Chloe nodded. “He protected us. We stay.”

Max didn’t argue. He just nodded once, the movement sharp and final.

Outside, sirens wailed somewhere far off. The city groaned and creaked like it was trying to fall asleep but couldn’t. Distant screams echoed. Somewhere, something exploded.

But in this room, there was only silence.

Max moved to the edge of Liz’s bed. Looked down at her sleeping face – peaceful, untouched, unaware.

“He saved her,” he said softly.

Chloe’s voice cracked. “She’d hate that.”

She traced a finger over Liz’s hand, whispering like it might reach her.

“So don’t make it meaningless.”

“She’d also try to trade places with him if she could,” Alyssa added bitterly. “You know she would.”

Max looked at them. “That’s not how this works.”

“No,” Chloe said, rising slowly. “But it’s how we work now.”

Dan rose beside her, unsteady but determined. “Then we do better. For him.”

Victor looked back over his shoulder. “We’ll need to move soon. This building’s compromised. Reinforcements won’t wait.”

Max nodded. “We’ll find another place. Somewhere safe.”

“No such thing anymore,” Dan muttered.

But he said it like he accepted it.

They gathered what they could. A blanket. The crane. The few possessions Jack had managed to bring. Chloe clutched the little blue paper crane to her chest like a lifeline. Alyssa didn’t cry. Not yet. Her face was stone.

Max looked at his people.

All of them bloodied. Changed. Broken in different ways.

“We fight smarter,” he said.

They nodded.

“And we bury our dead.”

And together, they lifted Jack’s body.

The rain outside had stopped. The sky was still bruised, heavy with the promise of more storms. But for now, it held.

As they started to move down the hallway, Max paused by Liz’s bed one last time.

He stared at the soft rise and fall of her chest. At the cracked walls and flickering lights. At the scent of ash that still clung to everything.

“This place isn’t safe for her,” he said, mostly to himself.

Dan looked up. “Where would you take her?”

“Somewhere I can watch her. Somewhere no one knows.” Max’s voice was low. Firm. “I don’t care if she’s still asleep. I’m not losing her.”

Alyssa tensed. “You’re just going to take her?”

Max met her eyes. “Would you rather leave her here?”

No one answered.

Chloe stepped forward and touched Liz’s hand, just once. Then nodded.

“Bring her back to us. When she wakes up.”

Max’s voice cracked – just slightly. “I will.”

Chloe didn’t look back. She kept her eyes on the floor, one hand clutching the crane – now stained slightly red.

A wish folded in paper.

A promise made too late.

As they walked, Max looked at each of them – not just survivors, but witnesses.

They had fought monsters. Lost someone. Chosen to stay.

Jack had entered this building a kid.

He left it in silence. A hero.

Not alone.

And not forgotten.