"Dude," Conrad called. Kurt raised his gaze, whiich had gone down and to the side, and was face with Conrad's hand reaching out for his him. He opened his mouth to say something, though he didn't know what, when he saw Conrad's middle finger curl toward his thumb, forming a circle.

  Conrad flicked him straight between the eyes. And then he laughed.

  "Shut the hell up already with that, man," he said between chuckles. "If we go in, we all go in. Hell, it isn't like I wan't some charred dogs in my conscience either." He looked toward the manor. "I'm thinking we go in guns blazing, y'know? We rip the door's apart, blast through walls... making sure that there's always atleast some sunlight in a room before we go in. Sounds good?"

  "Sounds great," Kurt said sourly, scratching the spot where Conrad's finger had hit. He hadn't put any real force behind it but, in a display of precision, he had made the 'blow' just shallow enough to hit just the skin, almost like a whip, so it itched like hell. "Just one more thing: next time you want to reasure me, try to avoid hitting me first. It sends mixed messages."

  "Oh, for the love of..." Mila muttered. Before Kurt could react, she took hold of his shoulder again and, using it for support as she stood on the tips of her feet, she gave him a quick peck right between the eyes. "There you go, you big baby! Now let's go kill a vampire. And don't worry; if you get another boo-boo, I'll just kiss away that one too."

  Withthat, she spun on the tips of her feet like a ballerina, and rushed towards the manor. Sensing the change of plans, Buck rushed behind her like a dog chasing a squirrel.

  Kurt stood in place, his body paralized as his brain tried to puzzle what had just happened.

  "Was it that special, this one?" Conrad asked, dragging Kurt out of his stupor.

  "What do you mean?"

  Conrad's smile, if possible, grew even cheekier. "You guys cuddle and hug like it is no one's bussiness, and you have been for like half your lifes, and now you get all blushy for a quick peck?" He shook his head thrice, clicking his tongue each time. "Something's different now. But what? What could possibly be that has you..."

  "I'm in love with her," Kurt cut in. "I realized it back at the Ruth incident, right after we got the amber. That's what is different."

  This time it was Conrad's turn to freeze over. His mouth lay half open, and his hands petrified in the middle of some gesture or the other. He blinked twice, the smile whipping from his face, and he gave Kurt a rather serious look. "Shit, man."

  "Yeah, I know," Kurt said. "You were right, okay? It was fucking obvious how I felt. I don't know when I started to feel like that. Maybe from the beginning. I don't know the specifics any better than you do. All I know is that I..."

  "Like her?" Conrad offered. He sounded a lot less smug than he had not even a minute ago. Kurt took some solace in that.

  Kurt shook his head softly. "You 'like' a cute girl in your class to whom you haven't even spoken. You 'like' someone you met through a dating app. I love Mila, plain and simple. I knew that already too. I mean, we've been best friends for about half our lives now; if we can't talk about love now, then when?" He gave a defensive shrugh. "I just realized that love was of the romantic kind, nothing else."

  "What are you gonna do about it? I mean, she does love you back, y'know?"

  "I know she loves me," Kurt confirmed, "I just don't know in what way. It is... it is a lot like with that manor. It probably has no hostages inside but, since it might, we can't risk just burning it down. If there is even a one-in-a-thousand chance Mila just loves me like a friend or a brother or whatever...then I can't risk ruining our frienship by trying to get all lovey-dovey. There is stuff you don't gamble with."

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  It had been the first time since that baleful night that he had stopped to actually think and talk about his little love epiphany. He had managed to push it down up until now, by driving his attention to other, more urgent business like completing the quest or, ironically enough, teaching Mila how to use Pneuma. It had worked, too, up until know. He had managed to act like everything between Mila and him was normal by simply forgetting it wasn't anymore.

  He thought, for a moment, about how Ms.Matthers had died right before him, screaming and agonizing in ways that went beyond words. And then he thought about that sorceress, and how he had driven a sword right through her neck while looking her at the eye. And then he thought about how he broke down when he tried to use that same sword again just a couple of hours later, when he couldn't just ignore it any longer.

  He felt just about the same now.

  And that thought pissed him off.

  "Look!" he sharply whispered. "This is not important, okay? We are in the dead center of a vampire's territory, not dicking around some jungle gym during reces. It is not the time to be discussing useless teen drama shit!"

  Conrad frowned, but said nothing. He just put an arm around Kurt's shoulders, and they both walked toward a very concerned-looking Mila.

  "What happened?" she asked. Because of couse she had taken notice of their conversation. She had been standing like twenty feet away from them, for fuck's sake.

  "Kurt is still a bit on edge," Conrad said, "You know, given how shit went down last time we raided a hundred year old looking house and all."

  "Oh," Mila murmured softly, seemingly just realizing the similarities. Kurt just had himself, thanks to Conrad, and it did not lighten up his mood.

  Mila walked up to him, cupping one of his cheeks with her soft hand, and said, with that infinitely warm voice of hers, "Everything will be okay, Kurt. We'll stick together and stay alert, and let nothing surprise us. I'll cover you and you cover me, 'kay?"

  Kurt gave her a small smile, and nodded, feeling a sort of bittersweet contentment at her words. He could only marvel at how, even when she herself was the 'source' of his bad mood, she somehow still managed to also be the cure for it, just like she always was.

  "And I guess Buck and I can go get bent, uh, Mila?"

  "Oh," she murmured at Conrad's words, suddenly looking rather guilt-ridden. "I-Im sorry, Conrad. I really didn't mean it that way. I..."

  She was interrupted by a chuckle, and Conrad spoke next, "Yeah, yeah. I know, girl. You just couldn't go mincing your words while your Kurt was all glumy, right?"

  "Yeah..." answered Mila, a smile creeping through her face. "What can I say? I just can't bear to see this cute face with a frown on it." Her smile grew slightly smug, and she softly booped his nose. "It just doesn't suit you, mister."

  "Okay, okay," Kurt said, lightly swatting Mila's hand away. "See? I'm all smiles now." Ans he actually was. A hearty smile had somehow took hold of his lips without him noticing, just as the cold and heavy feeling in his chest vanished. "Now let us get to the job. I really don't wanna wait to see what Buck here tries when he grows impatient enough."

  Conrad and Mila shared a smile, and proceded to back away from him while bowing playfully, as though he were some kind of king of a play-pretend kingdom.

  "Lead the way then," Conrad announced in mock deference, before he added, "We'll humbly folow your lead, captain."

  Kurt scoffed, and answered with a quick, "Screw you, my liege.", drawing yet another laugh from Conrad. Mila and Conrad positioned themselves at each side of the doors, standing by the frames of it. For his part, Buck stood just three steps behind Kurt. It seemed that, during one point of the group's conversation, he had bitten of the ropes tying his torso to the tarp, as he was now unburdened by anything but a measly length of rope that hung limply from his frame.

  Taking a breath, Kurt let the force of his Od to fill his body and, with a thought, he began burning that same power, letting its cold white flares to coat his body, being particularly thick at his arms , back, and fingers.

  He threw both hands back, and then he threw the forward, one poised for each half o the barn-like doors. The wood, which had been solid and infused with necrotic magic, offered no more resistance before him than a curtain would have, and each of his fingers rammed straight through the length of them like arrows burrowing in flesh, with the tip of each finger protruding from the opposite side of each door.

  With a groan of effort, Kurt clenched his hands into fists, warping the wood between his fingers to do so, until he felt he had a good enough grip, which is when he pulled both of his arms back and upwards in a motion that used all of his body weight, and that yanked both doors straight off their hinges. The sudden lack of resistance made Kurt almost lose his balance and fall on his back, but he reacted just in time, letting go of the wooden frames before they dragged him down.

  They flew through the air like two two-hundred pounds frisbees. One of them hit the dirt edge-first, embeding itself on it like an axe on a tree stump, while the other hit the side of a building, crashing right through the pale and dried wood with a mighty crash and a rain of splinters.

  Kurt clenched and loosened his fingers experimentally, in search of wounds or soreness of any kind. He wanted to account for every little thing that would affect his performance. He wasn't going to risk it again. But, it seemed, there was no risk. His fingers felt just fine, except for a mild itchiness that didn't really go past the skin, probably an influence of the necrotic essence within the wood.

  He took hold of his sword, unsheathing it, and gestured with it toward the dark interior of the building. Conard and Mila flanked him immediately, and the glow of the Blue Aura tinted the left edge of his vision as the measured and steady breath of a Pneuma-user entered his right ear. A deep growl and a red shine both came from behind him.

  They walked into the manor.

  And then the three figures came for them.