The Vampire Slayer

Chapter 37

Iason was lying down on the sofa for days until Friday finally came. He's been in some melancholy spirit since his new Darkside took over and petrified Maeve with disgraced statements about their Halloween encounter. He's been drinking nonstop, trying to drown this new persona that was creeping up. He didn't know how to manage this character; it just carried him over and made him spit out words he'd never used against a woman, especially those he'd loved.
              Bottles spread everywhere, some broken, some shattered down on the ground, but Iason didn't simply care anymore. Smoked cigarettes on the coffee table were a mountain high, the place smelled awful, and he hadn't seen the sunlight since the day he broke Maeve's heart.
              His mind fumed with dark thoughts, thoughts about suicide, debates about how pathetic of a man he'd become. Iason wanted to end himself because of all the pain he caused Maeve. He knew he had broken her into million pieces, which she didn't deserve; it was never his intention.
              He knew he couldn't pull back those pieces again; it was too late. All he ever wished was for her to move on, to leave him alone, but she came, and apparently, this Darkside took advantage of the situation. No therapist can make his return to the man he was; he'd lost hope in himself.
              Mariah had taken over his lectures. She wasn't a certified professor, though Rashidi informed Iason that the students adored her. This didn't surprise Iason; Mariah was an excellent sexual vampire, using her sex appeal as a weapon to be favored. Iason hadn't let anyone come to his home, and he'd only had contact through SMS. He didn't feel like talking with anyone; hearing their worried voices would worsen everything. 
              At 3 AM on a Friday, he finally got up from the sofa, walked past the clutter on the ground, and took a long shower. He didn't even look in the mirror, afraid to see himself. Later, he strolled upstairs to his wardrobe. Peeking through his clothes, Iason wore a stylish navy blue suit with a white shirt underneath. Blue had always been his favorite color, yet navy blue reminded him of Greece's deep breathtaking ocean. Recently Iason had been reminiscing about Greece and wearing something that indicated the deep sea color felt proper. 
              Iason then went downstairs again to fix his hair. When he saw himself in the mirror, he was stunned at how fine he looked. Iason was expecting dark circles under his eyes, hair messy, and eyes red from all the drinking and smoking, yet in his reflection, he saw a young Pleistarchus. His skin was smooth like back then, and his eyes were full of hope and power. Last but not least, his hair looked fresh, a little curly after it dried. Noticing himself, the young Pleistarchus filled him with joy, and an unexpected desire for revenge emerged. He slicked back his hair, trimmed his scruffy beard to stubble, and put perfume on. 
              Leaving his house at 4 AM, Iason went directly to the institute, knowing that everyone was asleep, benefiting him because he wished to be undisturbed. Walking through the grand hall, he looked around to notice if anything was near him, yet Iason was alone. Arriving inside Armeen's office was more effortless than he reckoned. The door was locked, with a unique systematic card required that only Armeen contained, yet Iason just pulled the handle and shattered it. 
              Armeen's office was dusty simply because no one had ever stepped since he vanished like a rat. All these years working at this university, Iason realized he'd never been inside his office.
             The interior was modern, minimalistic, and expensive-looking. The walls were light grey polished, with soft grey oak flooring and black also dark wood brown furnishing. His desk was in dark brown pine material, extended with two plants and a laptop on the side. The chair was black with smooth leather and a dark grey viscose rug underneath. Behind the desk, on the wall, was a painting of Armeen, and on the left side of the border, near the desk, was a small frame of the school's symbol, the Leonidas helmet. 
             Iason strolled around the desk and sat down, opening the laptop; he wished to find out everything about that bastard. Armeen's secrets, the implacable power to change the archives, the vampire bible, and anything to use against him. Armeen had a password on his laptop, which Iason figured could be anything that had to do with Persia. He typed confidently in Xerxes I, though, to his astonishment, it was inaccurate. He then typed in Armeen's real name, Artaxerxes I.  Again incorrect. He then wrote down Armeen's ex-wife's name, which was wrong, then his children's after that, which was also inaccurate. 
             Frustration started to build up, and Iason took a glimpse around the room. Then, eventually, he turned around to better glance at the painted portrait of Armeen, and a sudden wild belief arose. First, Iason stood up hastily to look behind the image; he took hold and carefully put it down, discovering nothing was there. Next, he knocked on the wall to catch any hidden passageway, though nothing came up.
              Iason lost all hope; he let the painting down, grunting, irritated. He sat on the chair, staring at the ceiling; his thoughts were battling, and memories and scenarios were coming up. Iason started to swing around with the chair, still looking up, and when he stopped, he gazed down, facing the school's symbol.
             Though something seemed strange, it wasn't straight, as if someone had moved it. Iason peeked at the frame questionably, tilting his head to the side; he got up to carefully witness what was beneath it. Behind the picture was a hidden safe, the exact size of the frame in black steel with a security password in the middle. Iason broke the safe with his fist to open it immediately. His adrenaline was high, and he was anxious about what he could discover. 
              To his utter surprise, he found the vampire bible, old and comprehensive, with black leather on the cover and three glass bottles beside it. One of the bottles had dried blood, the other a piece of hair, and the third a white cloth with blood on it. Iason frowned; he didn't comprehend what those were for, nor why Armeen would contain it secretly in his safe.
              Nevertheless, he wanted to smell one of the bottles and opened the glass bottle with the hair inside. His hands shook, terrified of who this hairpiece would belong to. Iason inhaled deeply and almost lost his breath. His pupils expanded, his mind nearly exploded with throwbacks of his past life, and he felt a sudden vomiting urge. 
              "No, it can't be." He whispered desperately over and over again. Then he proceeded to open the other two bottles, inhaling and losing his mind every time he realized which one belonged to–his mother, The Queen of Sparta herself. Armeen kept her blood, a piece of her hair, and her dress with her blood on it.
               Anger, disgust, and blood rising stirred within Iason, making him unexpectedly powerful. Yet, all Iason saw in front of him started to fade away; all he witnessed and felt was pure fire. Iason would not only get revenge, but he would also burn down Armeen's kingdom and his belongings and, foremost, burn Armeen alive. 
               Iason sat down, typed Gogo, the correct password on the laptop, and reached inside Armeen's private documents. Searching through records and archives that Armeen had concealed made Iason smirk triumphally, and all his dreams finally came true.