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rushingheadlong · 8 months

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Today is the 30th anniversary of Brian’s concert at the Palace Theater in New Haven, CT, USA. And since this is my favorite solo show Brian has ever done, I wanted to finally put together a proper post about the concert and why I love it so much.

First, a bit of background about the tour in general… For about 40% of the shows on the tour, the Brian May Band was not the main act at all. From late February to early July 1993 Brian was touring almost exclusively in support of Guns’n’Roses; they had some shows during this time where they were the headlining band but those were (generally) few and far between. It wasn’t until October 1993 that Brian set out on a tour that was exclusively his, with the Brian May Band as the only headliner and with no other support bands joining them.

It’s also important to remember that nearly everything about solo touring was entirely new to Brian, and while he can look back on it all with fondness now that ‘newness’ did cause legitimate issues during the tour itself. One of the biggest recurring problems was the new wireless system they were using for the Red Special.

(Brian, sans curly lead, at Brixton Academy)

The lack of cable meant that Brian had the freedom to move around that he needed as a frontman, but it also meant that they were dealing with constant signal issues and interference. And by “they” I mean Brian and a temporary guitar tech, because this tour took place after Jobby left but before Pete Malandrone came along.

So, with that out of the way… Why is this my favorite Back to the Light concert?

Well for one thing, it’s the best quality bootleg we have from the tour. Really the only video that’s in better quality is the professionally-filmed Brixton Academy show, and that one was edited for release to remove the explicit ending to Love Token and Brian’s cover of “God (Dream Is Over)”. In fact for the longest time the October New Haven show was pretty much the only source we had for “Dream Is Over” at all because it was never performed when they were touring with GNR.

So even though there weren’t any special one-off songs during the New Haven concert, this is really the only easily-available (i.e. on youtube) bootleg we have that includes the original full setlist and the complete encore. Some sections of video are missing, but they’re generally short moments between songs; very little of Brian’s actual performance is missing, and even better the audio quality is fantastic as well.

That's not to say that it's a perfect bootleg, or even a perfect show for that matter. The technical issues that were endemic to this tour are absolutely present here too, from Jamie’s guitar not coming in on his solo to major tuning problems with Brian's acoustic. But IMO that doesn't detract from things too much at all, because the band is far enough into this whole production that they know how to work around these things. You can see those moments when Brian gets frustrated but it doesn't get the best of him, not like it did in South America:

(Brian frustrated by technical issues in Chile)

By the time October 1993 rolls around the Brian May Band is a well-oiled machine. They know how to brush off the mistakes and cover for the inevitable problems that happen during any live show. And when things are going alright for the band and Brian looks more happy than not during shows, it's sometimes easy I think to forget how very not alright Brian still was on a personal level.

Because this final stint of touring kicked off less than two years after Freddie's death. The therapy that Brian found through Back to the Light wasn't in the making of the album, which was nearly finished before Freddie died, but in the touring specifically. Which means that by the time the band rolls into New Haven, Brian's been working through his grief onstage for less than a year. After knowing Freddie for over 23 years and spending 16 of those almost exclusively performing live with Queen.

Saying that Brian was still "not alright" in October 1993 is actually a massive understatement. The worst of his depression, anxiety, and grief is absolutely still there, but Brian keeps working through it - both literally, as he continues with the tour, and figuratively as he uses that tour as his therapy.

But as anyone who’s been in therapy can tell you, it’s not always linear. So when your therapy is performing with your band and you have a momentary backslide…

Well, you pretty much get this exact concert.

I’ve talked about some of this before, most recently in this post where I talk about Brian’s visible reaction to the audience participation in Love of My Life, but honestly I did that moment a disservice by stripping it out of the context of the rest of the show. Because yes, he’s reacting to the audience there (and I'll talk more about the audience later) but critically Brian has been off his game since the start of the show.

(Brian already looking Over It™ after only a few songs)

If you haven't watched (m)any of the BttL concerts, it can be hard to pick up on a lot of this without the additional context of Brian's behavior during other gigs. Brian has always been the most confident while performing and he's comfortable with this band now, so on first watch it’s easy to see him enjoying himself and think that the few moments of overt discomfort are outliers born out of Brian’s unfamiliarity with being a frontman.

But once you start watching more of his concerts, you realize that Brian only seems so comfortable because he’s avoiding going “off script” in his interactions with the audience whenever possible.

The first time this is really apparent comes at the start of Love Token. The introduction to the song is pretty standard across the tour, but what's missing is Brian talking to the audience before launching into things. He tells them, "You guys are great." but the rest of the typical chatter and comments about not having been to New Haven in a while are turned into part of the Love Token opening monologue.

(New Haven, before Love Token)

In contrast, a week later in Milwaukee, Brian does the happy-to-be-back bits entirely separate from Love Token and he explicitly mentions when he was there before with Queen. He's having a genuine moment with the audience outside of the music, and you can tell from his tone of voice and how he’s talking that he’s not doing this on autopilot.

(Milwaukee, before Love Token)

That's something that seems simple, but it still requires talking off-the-cuff to a theater full of people. And if you're already having a rough night, why put yourself through that if you can simply roll it into part of the song and make it a bit more routine for yourself instead?

Then we get into Love of My Life, and I know I already talked about some of this before but amazingly that moment where Brian physically curls in on himself during the song is not the only tell that this isn’t a good night for him.

Again, we have to take a look at Brian’s interactions with the audience because LoML is one of the parts of the show where he can’t avoid talking to them even if he wanted to. What he specifically says can vary wildly from one night to the next, but there are three main beats he usually tries to hit:

Asking the audience to sing along

Telling them that this song is for Freddie

Acknowledging that he wasn’t the one who originally wrote the song

I say “usually” because Brian doesn’t always mention that 3rd point. Often he just says that this is for Freddie and launches into LoML, without any commentary on the song not being “his”.

Sometimes he does mention it but leaves it a little vague, like in March 1993 in New York when he said, “This is something that I don't usually sing and to be honest I get doubts as to whether I should or not.” And sometimes he laughs it off a bit, like he did in Milwaukee in October 1993 when he said, “And it isn't because I was thinking that I have the right, it's just because I really wanna do it."

Regardless of how it’s said, Brian’s emphasis is still on the song being for Freddie. Any comments he makes about his “right” to perform it are almost always secondary to his assertion that he’s doing this in memory of his friend - but not when he gets to New Haven:

(New Haven, before Love of My Life)

In New Haven, Brian (accidentally) puts the focus on the song’s ownership. His slight hesitance and fumbling over his sentence inadvertently puts the emphasis on his own anxieties and mental state, so when he does mention Freddie his grief seems to come through stronger than it may otherwise have done.

Then Brian starts playing and although we have to acknowledge again that he’s having technical issues here, you can still tell the difference between his background emotional state on this night and his frustrations with his guitar. Because when Brian’s problems are external, he reacts and emotes to them externally - but when his problems are internal, he reacts by turning inwards on himself.

(New Haven, during Love of My Life)

Both of those gifs are from LoML. On the left he’s clearly frustrated by the guitar and/or his playing. He’s making a face, shaking his head, trying to adjust to fix it… He’s not exactly going out of his way to hide that there’s an issue there.

But on the right, when the audience sounds a bit too much like they would have with Freddie and their singing is starting to get to him, Brian’s reaction is to close off. He goes still, his face becomes blank, he turns the mic away from him so it can’t pick up any noises if he starts crying again…

(Yes, again, because I’m not going to swear on my life that that’s what’s happening earlier in the song…. but Brian does wipe something away from his face and sometimes that’s enough to make you wonder…)

(New Haven, Brian wiping his face during Love of My Life)

A few songs later and we arrive at Too Much Love Will Kill You. It’s another moment for Brian to talk to the audience, although he usually doesn’t say anything. At both Milwaukee and Brixton, Spike starts playing and Brian just comes in singing. But in New Haven, Brian feels the need to give the audience a little “warning” before they start…

(New Haven, before Too Much Love Will Kill You)

This is Brian’s anxieties coming through again, plain and simple. There’s no need to tell the audience that this part of the show “terrifies” him. If anything there’s a stronger argument to be made that the better, safer option would have been for Brian to say nothing rather than priming the audience to expect this to be imperfect.

Except the audience has already seen the imperfections. Even if they aren’t picking up on every little tell that Brian is having an off night, at this point they’ve already gotten through LoML. Everyone in that theater has already beared witness to his small come-apart during that song, and you know that Brian is absolutely still thinking about that moment as Spike starts the opening notes of TMLWKY.

Here he is, about to sing another slower and more emotional song, only this time he doesn’t have the familiarity of his guitar to fall back on or to hide behind if something goes wrong again. If he’s remembering LoML then surely the audience must be thinking of it too - and surely they must be waiting for him to fuck up again, so clearly the best thing for Brian to do is to preempt this song so the audience knows that this is difficult even on the best of nights.

That’s obviously all speculation but, as someone with an anxiety disorder myself, sometimes it just makes you want to apologize for everything. Whether you’ve actually done something wrong is irrelevant, because the anxiety will always find ways to make it feel like you’re “failing” in some way.

Brian can’t outright apologize to his audience. He’s stuck in his frontman role with a certain script to follow and he can’t break kayfabe to say “Sorry” without ruining the entire atmosphere of the show. What he can do is to admit to the things they should already know - in this case, that being onstage without his guitar is unusual and uncomfortable for him - and let them infer the rest.

He does nearly the same thing again when he talks to the audience at the start of the encore. He always thanks them for coming out to the show, but it feels a little more heartfelt at New Haven.

This part is impossible to gif but the first thing Brian says is, “Let me tell you, this is no bullshit, you guys are amazing. Because there's not that many of us here tonight and I appreciate you guys turning out and making that kind of noise.”

And I promise I’ll get more into the audience in a bit, but the fact that this wasn’t a well-attended show is SO important here as is Brian’s acknowledgment of that. This is really his last chance to say anything to the audience and he decides to specifically thank them for being loud enough to make up for the lack of attendance.

If that doesn’t say something about where his anxieties may have been focused - and what moments from the show struck a genuine chord with him - then I don’t know what does.

After that, Brian only has one more thing to say before he starts introducing “Dream Is Over”...

(New Haven, before the encore)

This is as close as Brian can get to saying, “I’m sorry but I’m doing my best.” He’s saying that he’s giving the audience everything he can and it sounds like an apology anyway. And then he has to steal himself to start the intro to the song, which he always has to do, but it hits a little harder when it’s preceded by that and not by something more like this:

(Milwaukee, before the encore)

And if you’ve made it through this nightmarishly long dissertation about every reason this show is heartbreaking and all the ways you can tell that Brian is having a rough go of it, you’re probably wondering “Rushing what the fuck is wrong with you that THIS is your favorite???”

Which, valid. But it’s my favorite because I think it’s both incredibly important and, honestly, very humbling to see Brian like this.

This isn’t the Tribute Concert, where everything is still so raw and performing hurts as much as doing nothing at all. This isn’t 1992 in South America where Brian can channel his grief into his frustration and push it out on the techs every time something goes wrong. This isn’t an opening show for GNR, where Brian’s time is more limited and even if he gets emotional he’s (probably) not the reason everyone in the theater is there.

This is Brian, not quite two years on from Freddie’s death, still mourning and still extremely depressed and anxious. And this is what it looks like when Brian has to push through that and put on a show anyway. The ways in which he both pulls away from the audience and tries to open up to them give insights not just into the state of Brian’s mental health at the time, but how that affected everything else about him from the way he carried himself to his mannerisms to how he followed the script of his own concert.

The October New Haven concert is a stark reminder of the depths of Brian’s depression and just how much time it takes a person to claw their way out of that.

And the other reason I love this concert is that you absolutely can also see the progress that Brian has already made.

Because despite the 2,500 words dissecting all the ways in which Brian was not fine during this show, there are still plenty of moments where it’s abundantly clear that he was enjoying being able to perform his music with this band.

(New Haven, Brian looking happy)

He’s visibly delighted every time he realizes that Jamie has shimmied over to join him without him realizing. He keeps looking over to everyone on his right and grinning. Whenever he really nails a difficult guitar line you can almost see the confidence boost that it gives him.

Yes, Brian is depressed and struggling but when he’s onstage he’s still Brian fucking May. He’s in his element and he is nailing it, despite the technical hiccups and emotional moments and everything in-between.

I love this concert because you see the depths of who Brian is as a person: his musicianship and how he uses that as a crutch to keep himself moving forward, the love he has for both the friends he’s performing with and those who are gone, his fears and anxieties and moments of deep self-doubt, the guitar legend he grew up to be and the incredible frontman he didn’t realize he could be, and the tired person simply trying to find himself anew after 20 years spent as someone he can’t return to anymore.

And there’s one final, very important reason that I love this show so much: the audience. (I promised we’d talk about them eventually, didn’t I?)

Brian has always been someone who thrives on the atmosphere of a live show and by god was New Haven determined to give him everything they could. They were loud, they were enthusiastic, and you can see Brian responding to that.

(New Haven, Brian looking happy because of the audience)

Brian pulls himself back together after the audience starts cheering for him during LoML. During band introductions they applaud for him long enough that it bleeds into the next song, and despite himself Brian smiles at it. And every time they recognize a Queen song you can see Brian responding to something familiar to him again.

Do you know how hard it was to get even these three gifs? Not because finding the moments was difficult, but because this audience is enjoying themselves so much that their arms are blocking the view more often than not.

Look, I am stupidly biased about this show because I’m a CT native - not from New Haven, but this is still a “home” show for me. Brian walks out wearing that tank top and I get why he wore hometown shirts for the encores even though I fucking hate Yale. This show could have been the most run-of-the-mill, routine concert imaginable and I would still find some way to write 3,000 words waxing poetic about it.

But this wasn’t a routine concert - or maybe a better way to put it would be, this was an incredibly routine concert made remarkable because of far Brian’s mask has slipped and what that inadvertently reveals to us. It’s incredible because the quality of the bootleg means we can actually see the little details of expression that otherwise are often lost.

The October New Haven concert is my favorite from Brian’s first solo tour because it proves the entire point he was making with the album. It’s a performance that shows us that Brian was finding his way Back to the Light - and that even when he was still in the dark, he was “still the same old [him] inside” despite everything that changed.

#brian may #brian harold may #brian may solo #queen #queen band #text #long post //#ramblings #brian #HEY WARNING THIS IS 3200 WORDS SO CLICK THROUGH AT YOUR OWN RISK

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shady-tavern · 1 year

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Vampire’s Lullaby

Warnings ahead for a child getting injured and threatened with more bodily harm and death, blood and gore, though not overly descriptive. Please take care of yourselves.

This is part one of a dark vampire story folks. I hope I could do it at least some justice. If you are concerned about the contents, drop me a message and I’ll answer you.

***

'Never look them in the eye, child,' the priests always cautioned. 'You'll only find the loss of your mind and virtue there, if they don't take your life immediately.'

There was no love left in the creatures of the night, in those ever hungry for blood and flesh, in the terrors of the dark. The sunlit hours were spent scurrying about, getting work done before the sun set and the monsters crawled out of wherever they hid.

Annabelle had been taught early on to ignore the luring calls and songs of some of the night creature, to keep the curtains drawn and to stay inside, no matter how frightening or pleading something sounded outside. She and all others could flinch and cry all they liked, so long as they remained in their homes.

Those who could afford it kept their homes safe, buying all that was necessary to ward off any and all night creature, while professional hunters prowled along the property. Those less rich could still often enough convince a less reputable hunter to guard their home, by offering them food and lodging and a bit of a salary.

Young, inexperienced hunters or older ones with lasting injuries usually took those less well-paid guarding jobs. Those families who could bear to have a set of working hands missing sent one of their children to get a basic education in hunting, hoping it was enough to protect their home.

Annabelle knew people less fortunate considered her one of the reasonably lucky ones. She had three older brothers and her parents had reliable merchants buying their wares. Her mother sold iron tools she made in the smithy, while her father sold his weaving. Her two oldest brothers had learned the craft of their parents, while her third brother, the youngest of the three, had gone and become a hunter.

Dion was the one keeping their home safe and she hated it. She hated the howls and screams and snarls of the monsters that hunted. She loathed the crooning singing that wanted to lure her towards the barred windows, cruel in its sweetness. The shadows she could sometimes see creep past during a full moon frightened her, before Dion chased them off.

She hated that he was out there, fighting, coming home injured and bleeding. She knew, deep down, there would be a day when he wouldn't return. None of them were lucky enough to avoid that misfortune forever. Not when it had killed her grandfather and later her uncle, while guarding the house.

Sometimes, when she came back from work, she saw her brother standing outside, hand shaking as he held his weapons. But every time he hesitated, he would look at the house, through the windows where she knew her parents and older brothers sat, still either at work or taking care of the house.

Then he'd look at her, walking briskly towards him in the setting sun. He'd nod at her and remain where he was, unflinching and with a straight back. In front of the house, guarding it.

The thick wooden door would close behind her when she stepped inside, lined with iron and dusted with silver shavings, expensive protective measures that had cost her grandmother and grandfather all their savings when they settled down in the city.

Dion would lock it with a hard noise before his steps faded. Annabelle hated those noises, hated how final and grim they sounded. Hated that she didn't know if he'd come back at dawn to unlock the door again.

They weren't truly locked in, she knew where the spare key was after all, they all did, but her parents wanted him to be the one to unlock it every morning. They wanted to give him every reason to come back alive.

She wished she could tell Dion to just stay inside with them. To sit in front of the fire and cover his ears when some beast howled, like he had done as a little boy. Annabelle was barely a year younger than him and she remembered helping him, clapping her hands on top of his to muffle the sounds extra hard.

No matter how much the noise had scared her as well, she had put on a brave face. When her parents had decided he should go and apprentice with a hunter, she had fought with them, for the first time in her life actually shouting and screaming while her parents grew just as loud.

They had been just as desperate and scared and helpless in their arguments as she had been, but that hadn't gentled her fearful fury one bit.

When she had offered to go in Dion's stead, they had waved her off with scoffs. She wasn't big and sturdy enough, they had said. She wasn't strong enough, not fast enough, no hunter would teach her. She'd be dead within her first night outside.

She couldn't bring herself to say it to Dion's face, but she thought he shouldn't have become a hunter. Then again, none of her brothers were suited for the task. Rudi, the eldest, was currently courting a young woman, hoping to marry her and have a family of his own. He always got up at dawn along with Annabelle, peering out the windows to check if Dion was alright.

Gerard, her second-oldest brother, kept on weaving late into the night, the sound of the loom by now a welcome background noise as they all settled down. She knew the reason he stayed up late was so he could listen for his little brother, to try and hear if anything happened to him. Even if he couldn't help, he still stayed up.

Since the two oldest were meant to inherit the business, continuing the craft of their parents, the horrid task of protecting the house fell on Dion's shoulders.

Annabelle had gotten an apprenticeship with their neighbor Mr. Bell, an older scholar and bookbinder, who had taught her everything and then hired her at his printing and book selling store.

Mr. Bell had recently started talking about letting her take over when he retired, since he was most pleased with her work. He wouldn't hand the business to her entirely right away, but he spoke about working less over the next year or two and letting her handle things more in his stead.

It filled her with fierce hope, that once he let her take over, she could earn enough money to hire a hunter. So Dion could stop reaching for cold steel and second-hand armor made of leather and rusty iron. So he could allow his hands to do something soft and gentle.

She once or twice heard him have nightmares through the wall during her free day and he barely smiled anymore and his humor had grown dark. Sometimes he managed to make her laugh, startled and a little horrified all at once, when he joked about death with other hunters in the evening, while she stopped by them to wish them a good night.

Not every night was bad, thankfully, there were even a week or two where it was utterly quiet, but it always got rough around the new and full moon.

Her brother got injured at times, coming home with a limp or a bleeding arm that got tended to swiftly so he could return outside the next night. How her mother scrubbed blood from their worn floorboards with tears in her eyes.

One day, she had promised herself therefore, he could rest. Which was why she was working from sunrise til sunset and why she stayed sweet and polite, no matter how rude a client was. Why she made sure Mr. Bell wanted her to take over his business one day and not someone else.

Her family worried about her, since she often barely made it back home in time, the sun almost gone when she arrived. Dion always looked relieved whenever he saw her hurrying down the street, his hunter garb making him look dark and foreboding.

She left early every day ever since she had figured out at what minute the sun crested the city wall enough to shine a weak, pale light along the main road. The path of the sun was always unobstructed, for across from them, on the other side of the road, was nothing but a drop down to the lowest level of the city.

That part of the city was built at the bottom of the hill that bordered on being a mountain, made up of homesteads and farmland. Scholars still argued that the hill should be classified a mountain, while others said it only looked that big because of the ostentatious, large castle built at the very top.

The fancy castle was surrounded by high walls and equally fancy manors and smoothly cobbled streets that wound down steadily. Their part of the city was always lit and very, very well protected

Annabelle usually didn't pay the upper crust much mind, she was far too busy for that, but sometimes as she walked to work, she wondered what it must be like to live without fear. To know the night creatures could not touch her.

By the time she reached the big crossroads where Mr. Bell had his business, the sunlight touched the shop and she'd unlock the door. Slipping inside, she would set everything up for the day in peaceful, soft quiet. She got the books they were selling ready in the shop and got started on their orders, mixing inks and selecting the requested paper.

Mr. Bell certainly was delighted about that, arriving with a spring in his step and all he had to do was sit down and get started.

Of course, leaving this early meant there were still some night creatures around at this hour. The last stragglers who wanted to pick off early risers who either thought they could slip by unnoticed or who had to risk their life for their income.

The hunters were counting on that, however. They said the monsters still out and about when the sun rose were the really stupid or inexperienced ones and usually made for easy pickings.

Sometimes Annabelle heard the gurgling cries as something died in an alley and she made sure not to look when she passed by. Since the night creatures avoided the sun like the plague, Annabelle was safe enough so long as she stayed on the main road.

Besides, she wasn't the only one with early working hours, the baker down the street got to work even earlier, risking her life every day to earn just enough coin to pay an older, banged up hunter to guard her and her children.

Dion unlocked the door for her after the fifth bell of the clock tower struck and today she saw that his eyes were dark and there was tension all throughout his frame. It must've been a rough night, for he barely said anything to her. Even the other hunters she passed by were quiet and grim, curtly nodding at her in greeting.

She wrapped her shawl tighter around herself to ward off the chill of the morning hour, warily glancing around. It was quiet enough and she only realized she had walked too fast, that the sun hadn't risen far enough yet, until she turned around the corner, one street away from the crossroads and found it lying in dark shadows.

The surrounding houses stood empty as of last month, which usually meant there were no hunters immediately nearby. Only, the street lying in shadow wasn't empty, like she had expected.

A howling snarl was cut short into a high-pitched yowl by the echoing shot of a blunderbuss. She barely got a glimpse of something big and furred crumpling to the ground, before she was nearly bowled over by a hunter running past her.

The man dragged a screaming, crying child into the sun, where it hissed and tried to cringe back, only to get gripped tighter. The hunter held the kid by their curly hair and Annabelle was about to shout at him in alarm, when she saw movement in the lingering dark.

She saw a second hunter further down the shadowed street barely dodge a beast that leapt down from above. Leathery wings nearly knocked him over as the massively oversized bat scooped up what could only be a bleeding, panting werewolf.

Only the bat didn't quite look like a bat either, it was far uglier for one and had arms along with wings and a body that tended a bit more towards the humanoid, leaving it looking like it had jumped straight out of a nightmare.

The werewolf reached a clawed hand for the crying child with a pained groan, while the bat skittered up the side of the building, too fast for anyone to catch up, until it was safely out of range of the blunderbuss. Then both night creatures suddenly fell still, staring past Annabelle.

Annabelle turned around, only to become still and unmoving herself. The first hunter held a silver dagger to the child's throat, a thin trickle of red blood dripping down, while black veins started to slowly appear along its skin, caused by the blade's touch.

The child was whimpering softly, a horrible, helpless sound that cut straight through her heart. Tears fell out of big, dark eyes and the boy was breathing fast and shallow in panic and he looked frozen in place, not daring to move even the tiniest bit.

For a long, heavy second, all Annabelle saw was Dion as a little boy, curly haired and terrified as he hid beneath the table, hands clasped over his ears as he sniffled. How she had crawled under the table to join him, pressing her own hands over his and how he had curled into himself with relief.

The kid didn't look too much like him when she blinked the memory away, the hair was the wrong shade, the eyes far too dark. But it was similar enough, along with the small button nose and chubby cheeks, to remind her of her brother when he had been little. It left her reeling for a moment.

"Move on," the hunter growled at her. "This doesn't concern you."

It didn't. It really didn't concern her. Annabelle held no love for night creatures, not when Dion carried scars from their claws and teeth. Not when she had nightmares about them and her parents had cried themselves to sleep for weeks after sending her brother out to guard them. But she couldn't bring herself to move, feet feeling frozen to the floor.

The child's gaze met hers and it was painfully clear the he wasn't human. He had fangs and claws and pointy ears, but in that moment he just looked like a helpless kid. The boy, six years at most, looked terrified, trembling all over and trying his hardest to reign in his panicked little gasps to keep the blade from digging in deeper.

The werewolf keened, a desperate, pleading call and the massive bat, the vampire, hissed, low and threatening.

"What are you doing?" Annabelle's voice sounded strange to her own ears. "That's a child."

"It's a monster," the hunter snapped back, keeping his eyes on the two night creatures high up on the wall that stared back at him. His friend was pacing down below, clearly trying to figure out how to kill them while they were distracted. Considering his sharp, loud cussing, he wasn't successful.

"Stab it or something," the pacing hunter shouted. "Lure them down, I don't want them to run or the sun to take my kill!"

The hunter pulled the dagger away in a fast, smooth motion, flipping it and Annabelle was moving before she was fully aware of it – because this was a child, no matter the pointy teeth and tiny claws. This was a child looking scared for its life, crying and trembling and she felt sick down to her core.

Pain burned bright and intensely sharp as the dagger sliced past the back of her hand, stretched in front of the kid protectively. The fingers of her other hand gripped the boy's collar tight, wrenching him away from the hunter's grasp.

The hunter's eyes were wide in startled, baffled surprise as she pushed the boy behind her, her own eyes wide and her breathing harsh and fast. She had half a second to watch fury take over, before the sound of crunching, crushing stone broke through the air like a miniature thunderstorm.

The hunter whirled around and Annabelle felt a scream getting caught in her throat as a large chunk of wall came flying, too fast to dodge, slamming into him and leaving a smear of blood and broken bones behind.

Everything became a little fuzzy and blurry around the edges, as she turned to see the vampire rip out another chunk of wall, tossing it after the now fleeing hunter below it, crushing the man into a pulp of red, wet flesh, broken pieces of bone poking out.

She heaved in a breath to avoid throwing up, gaze darting back to land on the vampire and the still injured werewolf it carried beneath one arm, braced against its gray, fuzzy shoulder.

The boy's heaving, suddenly loud wail made her flinch, jolting back into her body. She took a step back until she could see him without losing sight of the monsters up on the wall.

"You're alright," she found herself whispering with a trembling voice. Hesitantly she reached out, fingers shaking as badly as the kid did and nausea was still roiling through her gut.

The moment she lightly touched his shoulder, he tipped forward, knees buckling. Annabelle just barely managed to catch him, awkwardly holding him for a second, before she took a deep breath and picked him up. He weighed as much as a regular kid did, largely looked like one too, if one discarded the obvious signs where he was not.

And yet, as she watched, the longer the sun shone on him, the more those signs faded. His ears became round and the fingers that curled into her shawl were now normal, his nails short and blunt.

The scrape of claws on stone made her flinch and when she looked up, the vampire was right there, standing where the dark ended and light began. It clearly couldn't cross over and Annabelle felt her breath caught in her lungs as she stared up.

For the first time in her life, she felt tiny and flimsy and utterly mortal. The werewolf was reaching out towards the boy, breathing labored and it clearly couldn't stand on its own two legs. The vampire's arm still around its middle was the only thing holding it up.

The boy lifted his head and sobbed, reaching back towards the werewolf. The cut on his throat wasn't bleeding anymore, but there were still black veins, even if they were slowly growing fainter. Silver poisoning, Annabelle thought faintly, remembering the books Dion had been given while training and that she had peeked at.

Annabelle carefully set the boy on his feet without looking away from the big vampire, its large ears flicking as it listened. The boy stumbled forward the moment she let him go and the second he crossed into the dark, the vampire swept him up too and after a last glance at her, took flight.

It clearly wasn't dumb enough to wing up into the sky, not with the rising sun, but it was still startling to see something so big move so swiftly and quietly down the street, maneuvering smoothly around the corner and then it was gone.

Annabelle stared after them, unmoving. She didn't dare look towards the crushed hunters, her heart racing painfully fast in her chest and her stomach still roiling. Her hand was bleeding, pulsing with pain and she reached up to numbly wrap the end of her shawl around it.

Two minutes later, the sun had risen far enough for her to walk on, stumbling away from the bodies. No one had been around to see her or what had happened, not that she had noticed at least. No one had come to check either, not when the houses along this part of the street were empty.

By the time she stood in front of the shop, she was still shaking and it took her two tries to get the door open. As soon as the door fell closed behind her with a click and the familiar scent of her workplace surrounded her, she broke down into tears.

Mr. Bell, when he arrived, made her sit down, cleaned and bandaged her hand properly and handed her a sip of brandy that burned going down.

"You will take it easy," he said in a voice that allowed no arguments and he muttered under his breath, "I should've known leaving home that early was too dangerous."

She didn't correct him, because then she didn't have to explain how she had gotten injured. Instead, she was quiet and worked as much as he let her, while trying to ignore any remarks their clients made regarding her subdued spirits.

She was sorely tempted to throw something, however, when a particularly arrogant man told her to smile, for it made her look prettier than her current, glum expression.

When the evening bell rang, the one warning everyone to get home now or it would be too late, she felt a fierce jolt of fear race down her spine.

She was suddenly terrified to go out there, to see the night creatures again or to run into someone who had known the dead hunters. Who asked around if anyone had seen anything. Or even someone who might have seen her after all, but had been too far away and preoccupied to do anything.

But she couldn't hide here, the crossroads were filled sorely with businesses and hunters didn't protect areas where people didn't live, at least they didn't if the owners weren't rich enough.

The rich and powerful were about the only ones who had stopped fearing the night. They had the coin to pay for all the protection they could ask for and sometimes, during particularly quiet, calm nights, Annabelle could faintly hear the music of their parties.

She knew she couldn't stay here unless she wanted to die. So she grabbed her things, wound the shawl around her neck and locked up the shop. Mr. Bell had left an hour ago after making sure she would be alright, making her promise that she would go straight home.

The spreading shadows looked darker and more frightening than ever before and her steps grew faster and faster until she was nearly running.

No one stopped her, no one even looked at her more than usual and no monsters appeared. Not yet.

Dion was chatting with another hunter, the woman's gear looking as banged up as his did, when Annabelle arrived at home. He glanced at her, only to pause and frown.

"Did something happen?" he asked and Annabelle plastered a smile on her face, hoping it looked convincing.

"Just a little accident at work," she answered, waving her bandaged hand around and tucking it against her side before he could get a proper look at it. "Nothing serious, but I'm tired."

His frown smoothed over a bit, even if he still looked worried. "I'll unlock the door."

He accompanied her to the front step and as she stepped inside, she couldn't help but turn around. "Please be careful."

"I always am," he answered, but she must've looked scared, as scared as she felt, because his face softened a bit. "I promise."

He never promised to come back in the morning, because they both knew there was a chance that he wouldn't. Annabelle suddenly felt fiercely angry and tired and there was a sting of self-loathing.

She had gotten two hunters killed and monsters had gotten away alive. What if those night creatures were the ones to murder her brother? What if that little boy grew up to become someone else's nightmare?

She couldn't bring herself to regret saving him, not when she remembered that gut-wrenching fear on his face. But she couldn't help wishing the hunters had remained unharmed, no matter how nonsensical it was. Someone had to die when night creatures and hunters clashed.

She never again wanted a hand in deciding whose fate it was to be killed.

Dion locked the door and Annabelle managed to wave off the concern of her parents and older brothers and retreated to her room. She wasn't hungry and when she sat down on her bed, she could see the sinking sun.

Her room felt stuffy, so she opened the window, knowing she still had a few minutes to air out the room. Iron bars protected her window and she could still see Dion from here, waving at a hunter further down the street.

The memories of this morning resurfaced once again and would not let go. Annabelle started to tug at the bandage on her hand until a sharp pain made her wince. Glancing down she saw a bit of blood bleeding through and she took a couple of deep breaths.

What was done, was done, she reminded herself. Short of walking to the city guard and getting arrested and executed for mingling with the night creatures, there was nothing she could do.

Glancing up, she noticed that the sun had disappeared behind the city walls and while the sky wasn't entirely dark yet, she saw something big fly past. Flinching back, her heart suddenly hammering, she fumbled to slam the window closed.

She yanked the curtains shut as well, almost ripping them off, her fingers trembling as she clung to the thick fabric. It wasn't the same massive vampire bat, she told herself, there were many night creatures after all. Surely it was something else.

But Dion was out there and if he died because she hadn't been able to harden her stupid, soft heart against the face of a crying, terrified child, she'd never forgive herself.

It took a few deep breaths for her to calm herself and after long minutes of standing there while nothing happened, she got ready for bed. Tonight seemed to be a quiet night tonight and she laid in bed, listening carefully for anything horrible. When she heard Dion's rough, muffled laughter drifting up, she finally let herself relax.

Her eyes started to slip closed when a scratching sound on stone made her jolt upright so fast she briefly got dizzy. Heart racing once again she felt froze in place as a large shadow covered her window. She couldn't see anything through the curtains, but this size let her know what exactly was outside.

She didn't dare make a noise. She heard a muffled clack a moment later and then the shadow vanished with another quiet scratch of claws.

Annabelle sat in the silent darkness of her room, her breathing a little funny and when, at last, she managed to make herself move, her heart finally calmed down a little.

Pulling the curtains apart just enough to peek through, she blinked in surprise when she saw a folded page of thick paper on her windowsill, weighed down with a rock. She stared at it for a moment, then let go of the curtains again.

Annabelle wasn't dumb enough to go and open the window right now. So she backed up and sat down and stared. She didn't think herself capable of falling asleep again that night, but between one blink and the next, the sun was rising and she was lying crookedly on her bed.

Getting up and groaning at the crick in her neck, she approached the window once again. The sun was just peeking over the wall when she opened it and plucked the paper from beneath the rock. It was slightly damp from being outside and the move sent the rock tumbling down to the ground.

Unfolding the page, she blinked in surprise when the clumsy handwriting of a child greeted her first. The letters were clearly written with great care and as she read, it felt like a big hand was squeezing her heart.

The kid was thanking her for saving his life and that of his mother and auntie. He said that he had been so scared, that he thought all humans were cruel and evil, but she clearly wasn't. He had added a sketch of her, childish and simple and cheerful.

Below that, in a neat and elegant hand, one of the night creatures had written that they owed her and she could ask for one favor. All she had to do was leave a note outside her window and if possible, it would be fulfilled.

Sitting down on the chair in front of her desk, Annabelle found herself reading the letter again. Then she slowly folded it and didn't know what to think or feel or do. In the end she hid the letter and got ready for work, mind still spinning in circles.

Dion looked tired but unharmed and he even smiled at her when he let her out of the house, going so far as to twirl the key around his finger. "Have fun," he called after her when she left with a little wave.

Nothing happened on her way to work and Mr. Bell looked happy to see that she was doing better today. He left halfway through the day, citing that he needed to take care of something, though Annabelle got the sneaking suspicion that he was looking for excuses to leave the shop in her hands for a while. To get her used to running it in his absence.

It was all going well and fine, until she heard the tinkle of the front door and when she stepped out of the backroom, she stilled mid-step. A curly haired kid with dark eyes was peeking over the counter, clearly on his very tip-toes.

A smile broke out over his face. "Hello," he said with a small lisp, as if it was entirely normal that a night creature was out and about in the middle of the day. Looking utterly human.

Oh. A cold realization washed over her. Of course night creatures looked human during the day. The hunters would have found a way to eradicate them all otherwise. There were only so many places they could hide before being found.

Then she frowned. Did that mean they could walk out into the sun too? Or only some of them?

"Did you get my letter?" the boy asked. "Mama said I shouldn't come here, but I wanted to make sure."

"Yes," she managed to answer. "I got it."

His face lit up. "Good." Then his face fell and he sank down a bit, eyes barely peeking over the counter. "Thank you. That was...that was really scary."

"I bet it was." In all honesty, his situation had probably been far scarier than having a large monster show up in front of her window for a second. She couldn't stop herself from adding, "You need to be more careful."

The kid shuffled a bit in place, looking chastised. "I wasn't supposed to go outside," he told her, fingertips tapping against the edge of the counter he clung to. "But Mama was gone longer than usual and I got worried."

"I bet she's worried now," Annabelle said and suddenly she couldn't get rid of the thought that another night creature was going to show up. A grown, dangerous one. "Unless you told her where you are?"

The kid looked caught. "Um..."

She couldn't help but huff and made a shooing motion. "Go home before she worries."

The kid was about to push away, when he suddenly looked worried. "You won't tell anyone, right?"

Annabelle knew the moment she gave a description of the kid to the hunters, they'd comb the surrounding area for him and his mother. It was forbidden to get tangled with the night creatures, always had been.

Though, now that she looked at the kid, she couldn't help but think that the hunters were just as ruthless. And they could be just as cruel as the monsters.

"I won't," she said at last. "Now off you go."

The kid stepped away with a relieved smile and hurried towards the door, only to pause. "If we can help you, we will," he said. "Mama says we owe you one."

With those words he slipped out, the bell tinkling merrily. Annabelle exhaled in a rush and leaned against the counter, watching the kid through the shop window as he left with quick steps. Rubbing a hand over her face, she shook her head and returned to work.

She didn't have time to think about the difference between monsters and hunters, not when it left her mind in a messy state. There was too much work to do.

Mr. Bell came back later than he had said, whistling when he saw how much she had gotten done. It helped keep her distracted and by the time she wrapped up the last order of the day and got a head start on the next one, the final bell was ringing.

To her misfortune, she found her usual way back home blocked by a tipped over carriage. Horses were panicking and people were shouting and crowding around, trying to fix the situation as quickly as possible.

There was no way to get past and a nervous glance at the sky told her she couldn't wait until the situation got resolved, even if taking any other path meant a detour. Already the frazzled travelers were shouting how late it was and that they needed to get going now.

Tugging her shawl more firmly around herself, she turned to eye the nearby alley. It laid in shadow, but there was nothing else she could do. Even if she now knew that night creatures could look like ordinary humans, she was willing to risk the alley rather than stay on the main road until the sun had disappeared entirely.

Still, her heart was racing a bit and she was nervously glancing around. It got quiet as she left the hectic road behind and soon the only sounds were her shoes on rough cobblestone and occasionally voices drifting out of still open windows.

Some of the houses back here stood empty, broken windows and destroyed doors showing where night creatures had gotten through. Claw marks were visible where the monsters had crawled in and she saw bloody drag marks in front of one door, where someone or something had been hauled away.

It was dark by the time she emerged from the alley and the sight of the sun beyond the city wall made her breath catch. Home wasn't too far, however, surely she'd be fine.

She was about to rush ahead, when she heard the sound of claws on stone. For a moment she was about to just blindly start running, heart pounding, before she made herself look up. There it was, the nightmarish bat, crouched at the corner of the roof, wings folded primly.

They stared at each other for a long moment, until one of the vampire's ears flicked and it slowly moved one arm to point down the street. Towards her home. When she didn't move right away, it made a shooing motion, wings twitching.

Slowly taking a step and then another while not looking away, Annabelle started walking. The vampire followed her slowly, not even needing to leap across the alley onto the next roof. It just needed to stretch in order to reach.

Forcing herself to look away when she stumbled and nearly fell, Annabelle found herself walking faster and faster. When Dion came into view, waiting outside, visibly tense and worried, she looked up again.

The vampire was nowhere to be seen, but she heard the faint scratch of claws and realized that the night creature wanted her to hear it. She hadn't heard a damn thing until it had crouched above her, after all. It allowed her to track it.

"You're late," Dion said in greeting, checking her over for injuries while ushering her towards the house. "Get in, now."

She was pushed through the door before she could say anything and the lock clicked into place. Annabelle found herself swarmed by her family, all worried and scolding.

She ate dinner while barely tasting anything and retreated to her room as quickly as possible. The curtains were still open and when she reached for them, she saw the vampire, a few roofs away, out of view of the hunters down below.

She saw its dark eyes glint in the moonlight when it turned its head towards her, large ears perked. She found herself staring for a long moment, before she startled, remembering the warnings about getting thralled and lured outside.

But she felt fine, she realized as she was about to yank the curtains closed. Her mind was still her own. Surely she'd notice if it wasn't? She didn't feel compelled to go towards it – quite the opposite in fact. If anything, she wanted to stay right where she was, thank you very much.

Then the vampire's ears flicked and it was gone between one moment and the next, moving far, far too fast for a creature that size. Annabelle closed the curtains and took a deep breath.

She really needed to get some rest and hope that tomorrow made more sense again.

.*.*.*.

Over the next couple of days things made no more sense than previously and Annabelle resolved to just not think about it anymore. She had ended up saving a night creature child, they were grateful, no one had killed her in the process and now she'd continue living as she always did.

Sometimes she spotted the vampire, flying by or peering across the roofs towards her window. At first it frightened her worse, until she realized that it must be checking for any notes she might leave. In case she wanted to cash in that favor she was now apparently owed.

This, too, she resolved to not think about. There was nothing a night creature could give her, after all.

Right up until she waited at the door in the morning and Dion didn't open it. Her worry grew and she fidgeted, exchanging a glance with Rudi, who was peering outside the windows anxiously.

"I don't see him," her oldest brother murmured, shifting restlessly in place. After another moment he decided, "I'll go get the key."

He left and returned just as swiftly and the moment she had the door unlocked, Annabelle rushed outside. "Dion?" she called out.

"Over here," the voice of one of the other hunters answered and she ran, Rudi right behind her. Skidding to a stop at the small alley three houses down, she sucked in a sharp gasp.

Dion was lying in a pool of blood, breathing shallowly and two hunters were kneeling grimly at his side, doing their best to staunch the bleeding.

"Get a doctor, now," one of the hunters snapped out and Annabelle was moving again, running past a worried Mr. Bell, who poked his head out of the window, looking sleep-ruffled.

Everyone knew where the nearest doctor was and how long it took to get to their clinic. Thankfully, the doctors all got up early, knowing the first thing they usually did was stitch up an injured hunter.

Dr. Under was a seasoned, experienced woman with incredibly steady hands and a cool composure and she was the doctor everyone on the street and the next ones went to. With her guidance they got Dion into her clinic and then all they could do was wait. Annabelle stared down at the blood on her hands and sleeves from where she had held Dion's legs beneath the knees.

Rudi had left reluctantly, promising to tell Mr. Bell that she wouldn't be in and to inform the rest of their family. Soon they all sat in the waiting room, silent and scared. Annabelle had to bite down on the accusations that crawled over her tongue like brambles. Her parents looked horrified and guilty enough as it was.

"He'll make it," Dr. Under said the moment she stepped out of the treatment room. "He's going to be out of commission for a couple of weeks, however. I'd recommend letting him rest and recover for a couple of months even, but he could work again sooner."

Meaning she knew their family didn't have the money to pay a hunter to replace him. Before Dion had protected them, her uncle had, who had died a few weeks before her brother had taken over.

They wouldn't be entirely unprotected, the other hunters looked out for the surrounding buildings since not everyone had a protector. Five hunters, Dion included, regularly protected the entirety of their street.

But if they had to choose between protecting their own home or Annabelle's, the hunters would choose their own families or employees. It was risky, not paying for or having someone guard the house.

Her parents did not have the funds to pay for help, they all knew it. They would have to risk having no one and then Dion would have to go out the moment he was well enough, instead of healing up fully.

As she found herself ushered outside, Dr. Under promising that Dion would remain safe here until he could go home, she stared at her cold hands, finger knotted into her bunched up shawl.

She returned home with her family, swallowing down anger and fear with nearly every step. She hated all of this. Hated that night creatures wanted them dead, hated that her brother had to suffer, hated that they were never, ever safe when it was dark.

She had heard that the countryside was less dangerous, that night creatures preferred to flock to cities. They liked the amount of humans that lived there. She had heard rumors that someone had angered night creatures so much once upon a time, that they still sought retribution to this day.

She just wanted it all to be over.

As soon as she was back in her room, blood cleaned off, she pulled out the letter the little boy had sent her. She hesitated for a long moment, then she pulled out a piece of paper and dipped her quill into her inkpot.

It took her a few tries to get it right, crossing out words and staring out the window to the spot where the vampire usually sat shortly before it left again. She wrangled with her thoughts, her distrust and fear.

Night creatures were dangerous, everyone knew that. They held no love for humans and most of the time not even for each other. It was foolish to trust one, to put her hopes in one.

And yet, as the sun set, she left a folded piece of paper on her windowsill, weighed down with the same rock the night creature had used previously. It had still lain where it had gotten dropped a couple of days ago.

She stared at it for a long while, then she took a deep breath and kept the window open, the curtains pulled back. If she was going to do this, she had to look the vampire in the eye. If she gave a night creature the information that their house would be unguarded, ready for reaping, she had to try to spot any possible deception before it got them all killed.

She saw the vampire appear a few minutes after sundown and how it paused, obviously spotting her and her note. It tipped its head a bit to the side and it remained still for a long moment. Then it moved.

It arrived far too fast, nearly making her flinch back, hanging upside down from her roof. Hands the size of her head braced themselves left and right of her window and Annabelle had to force herself to not look away.

She had made precautions of course in case the vampire tried to thrall her. Her room was locked and the key dropped behind her big, heavy dresser, which would make a racket if she tried to move it. The bars in front of the window held shavings of silver and even if the vampire hypnotized her, it wouldn't get to kill anyone but her.

If that was the grim price for foolishly hoping she could trust a night creature, she'd pay it. But the vampire didn't do anything. At last it shifted its weight and pulled the note free with its clawed fingertips, thumbing it open to read it.

"Can you do it?" Annabelle found herself whispering, voice cracking and throat dry.

The vampire pulled itself up out of view and she saw its shadow on the roof across from her window, the house not built as high. She saw it change, turning from hulking and winged to something that looked human, crouching above her. She saw long hair move in the strong night breeze.

"I accept," the voice of a woman answered. "Consider it done."

Her breath escaped her in a big exhale and she had to grip the windowsill, knees suddenly trembling. "Thank you." Her voice shook a little.

The vampire hummed, then it asked, "Why did you not tell your city guards about my godson when he visited you?"

Annabelle knew what her family would have done, what Mr. Bell would have done. What the entire city would have done. But she hadn't been able to and she didn't know if that was a good or a bad thing.

"He's just a kid," she found herself answering honestly, watching the vampire's shadow. "It didn't seem...fair. To hurt him just because he's not human. Or to rob him of his family."

Nothing about this was fair. Not little boys nearly getting their throats slit open or her brother, brave and bloody, lying on dirty cobblestone. After what she had seen the hunters do to the boy, she couldn't even say anymore that only the night creatures were cruel.

"I see. You're a brave one, you know," the vampire said. "I've yet to meet a human who dared to look me in the eye when they knew what I was, not even your hunters do it."

Annabelle pressed her lips together, then she lifted her chin. She was sick and tired of being scared. She was sick and tired of fearing for her life and begging a god who might or might not be listening for her brother's safety. If a monster could do the job instead, she'd gratefully accept the help.

"You're not all that scary," she made herself say with more confidence than she felt. "You actually look kind of fluffy as a bat." And very frightening.

The vampire laughed, sounding surprised and darkly amused. "I think I like you," she said, a grin audible in her voice. "Brave, smart and sweet, you are quite something, I believe."

The shadow shifted and it looked as though the vampire had sat down on the roof and Annabelle had no idea what to say.

"Sleep," the vampire told her, voice gentler than before. "I will not let anything happen to you and yours."

Annabelle walked away from the window on slightly unsteady legs, leaving it open. She wanted to hear it, if something happened. Even if she knew, rationally, that she couldn't do anything, she still wanted to know if the vampire would abuse her trust.

She dropped onto her bed, watching the bit of the vampire's shadow she could still see. Slowly, her pounding heart calmed down and she slipped beneath the covers, watching her curtains shift gently in the breeze.

That breeze actually felt pretty nice, even if every stray sound made her jerk upright. She only realized the vampire had started to sing softly when her eyes fell closed, lulled to sleep by a monster's soft voice.

.*.*.*.

Part Two and Three are up.

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