Chapter Five

R oderick

Roderick reclined on a throne of twisted shadows, rubbing his temples. The room around him was a swirling vortex of darkness, punctuated by shimmering orbs of pure nightmare energy. Even with Candace's power aiding him, the townspeople's expectations had sapped his magic to an extent unheard of in centuries. He felt drained to his core.

"Granting wishes," he muttered, watching shadows dance across the bleak stone walls of his nightmare realm, "should come with a health warning."

He pushed himself up, his long coat trailing behind like a dark cloud. There was no rest for the wicked, after all. Roderick closed his eyes and focused on Maxwell's mind, the gambler whose wish was to win at the games of chance he was betting large sums of money on. The world around him transformed into a lavish casino, filled with clinking glasses and the sound of chips hitting the tables as he sifted into Maxwell's dreams.

"Have you ever considered what will happen when you win too much?" Roderick asked. It was time to shuffle the deck of fate.

He wove a dream of victory after victory for the man. But then, envy and suspicion began to grow in the eyes of the other players. Roderick intensified the emotions, conjuring up a nightmare where one furious player cornered Maxwell in a dimly lit alley, knife in hand, demanding his winnings. Another nightmare took shape, where rumors of cheating led to Maxwell being banned from the casinos.

With a flick of his wrist, the scene twisted. A shadow loomed over Maxwell's mountain of winnings, snatching it in a whirl of greed and malice. Cards scattered like fallen leaves in a storm, and faces around the table morphed from awe to suspicion.

"Cheater," they hissed as the dream wove into its darker turn.

Maxwell's eyes darted, panic creeping into his dream-self as accusations flew like daggers. Another twist, another nightmare—his pockets turned inside out, empty, as a faceless thief vanished into the night with his fortune.

Roderick withdrew, the taste of fear and second thoughts lingering in the air as Maxwell jolted awake. "Be careful what you wish for," Roderick whispered to the void, a half-smile playing on his lips. "The house always wins."

Roderick's gaze shifted from the dissipating remnants of Maxwell's dreams to the murky tendrils of Stephen's slumber. As he stepped into the new dream, a scene materialized before him of a grand feast. Stephen sat at the head of the table, surrounded by his family.

"So you wished for reconciliation," Roderick mused, observing the idyllic scene. He leaned against a wall, arms crossed, as the family exchanged stories and smiles. It was almost sickeningly sweet.

As the dream evening wore on, Stephen's sister cleared her throat. "Stephen, I need to ask you for a favor," she said, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

"Of course, what is it?" Stephen asked, concern furrowing his brow.

"Money. I need money." His sister's voice was sweet as poisoned honey, her hand outstretched across the table. Stephen's eyes flickered with knowledge and pain, the kind that comes from loving someone who's walking a destructive path.

Roderick twisted the air with a finger, the scene warping subtly. The sister's eyes held a desperate glint, and the parents' smiles tightened, revealing the fractures in this idyllic dream.

Stephen hesitated, his fingers drumming on the table. He knew all too well that his sister would use the money to buy opium. Their parents, however, remained blissfully ignorant of her addiction.

"Please, Stephen," she begged, desperation edging her words.

"Fine," Stephen relented, gritting his teeth. The price of peace had been paid, but for how long?

"Another wish twisted by reality," Roderick muttered, pushing away from the wall. Stephen should have wished for his sister to be free of her addiction. As he prepared to leave the dream, a familiar figure shimmered into existence, her golden hair catching the soft candlelight.

"Why are you spoiling their wishes? Can't you let them have this moment?" Candace appeared beside him within the dream, light and fury wrapped in one divine package. "You're turning wishes into warnings."

"Consider it a public service," Roderick countered. "Reality checks are complimentary here."

"That's not what we agreed on."

He arched an eyebrow, unfazed by her anger. "I'm preparing them for reality, my dear. Sunsidhe and moonsidhe can manipulate events to make things work in their realms. But here in the mortal world, each mortal has the path they must travel. Wishes rarely change that. At best, it just delays the inevitable."

"You tricked me." A storm of confusion and hurt brewed in her lovely eyes.

"No, I didn't."

"I thought we built the well to help people. You're using it as a way to torment them."

"You say torment, I say helping them cope with life."

"I can't believe you would ruin Yule for them like this." Candace's expression clouded with doubt and sorrow. With a flicker of golden light, she was gone, leaving Roderick alone once more.

"Goodbye to you too, sunshine," he said dryly, watching as Stephen's dream began to fray at the edges.

It was time for the next nightmare, but first, he needed a moment to recharge. He returned to his realm, wondering why Candace had left so abruptly. A strange mix of guilt and annoyance nagged at him. He glided through the dreams in Whitlock, hoping to find a glimpse of her. But her presence wasn't there.

At the end of the night, a few hours before dawn, Roderick was half asleep and yet he wasn't ready to rest himself. His thoughts were still heavy with the weight of Candace's disappointment. He needed a friend, and the only one that would still be up was Ben. As he made his way through the town, the shadows clung to him like a cloak, hiding his presence from prying eyes.

To his surprise, he found Ben leaning against the wishing well, a contemplative expression on his ageless face.

"Of all the places I thought I'd find you, this was not one of them," Roderick said, raising an eyebrow.

Ben looked up, his red eyes gleaming in the darkness. "Well, if it isn't the lord of nightmares himself. What brings you here?"

"Looking for you." Roderick leaned against the well beside the vampire. "What are you doing here? Making a wish?"

"Considering it," Ben admitted.

"Trying to cheat fate?"

"No, but I wouldn't mind hurrying it along a bit."

"What were you going to wish for? To stop being a vampire?"

Ben laughed, a rich, deep sound that echoed through the night air. "Hardly. I love being a vampire. No, my wish is for something else entirely." He looked as if he was about to reveal his secret when rustling sounds came from the nearby forest.

A small group of townspeople emerged, their eyes alight with excitement as they approached the wishing well. Their whispered chatter filled the air, and Roderick could sense each of their desires—some selfish, others more altruistic, but all seeking to change their lives in some way.

"Seems you have competition for the well tonight," Roderick remarked dryly.

"Perhaps," Ben mused. "But I can wait. After all, eternity is on my side."

Roderick turned to Ben. "Do me a favor and send them away. Candace and I need time to recharge if we're going to keep granting these wishes."

"Why put yourselves through it if it's draining you?"

"Candace and I have a little wager. For every kind, selfless wish, she gets a point. For every selfish, trivial one, I get the point. Whoever has the most points at the end of Yule wins control of Whitlock."

Ben frowned. "Well, as a vampire, I'm not exactly thrilled about the idea of a sunsidhe overseeing my town. But I believe she'll win. I know these people. They're not a greedy lot."

"Agree to disagree."

"A few new rules should help with keeping things in line and conserving your energies." Ben nodded toward the townspeople, who had nearly reached the wishing well. "But I'd better deal with this little gathering before you have to listen to their wishes."

"By all means," Roderick said, stepping back to watch.

Ben held up a hand, halting the excited chatter of the group. "The wishing well is temporarily out of commission." He stepped forward, the moonlight casting an ethereal glow on his pale skin as he addressed the crowd with a calm authority that had nothing to do with his supernatural heritage. "The wishing well will resume granting desires at noon tomorrow."

Disappointment swept through the crowd like a ripple, but most of the townspeople nodded reluctantly and began to turn away. Roderick smirked, wondering if maybe Ben had been right about their selflessness—or perhaps they just didn't want to incur the wrath of their vampire mayor.

However, one figure remained—a ghoul named Kletus, who was known around town for his generally amiable demeanor. But today, something seemed off. His eyes were wild, and his hands trembled with barely contained rage.

Kletus, with his gaunt frame and eyes burning a feverish yellow, lurched toward Ben, his mouth twisted in a snarl that would've frozen a lesser being's blood. Roderick's lips twitched, a morbid curiosity piqued as the ghoul lunged toward Ben with surprising speed.

"You can't do this," Kletus snarled, spittle flying from his lips. "I need my wish!"

He swung a clawed hand toward Ben. But Ben was faster. With a graceful sidestep, he evaded Kletus's attack. With a flick of his wrist, Ben immobilized Kletus, suspending him in midair as he thrashed against invisible bonds.

"Attacking the mayor? That's disturbing the peace where I come from," Ben said. He snapped his fingers, and Kletus floated back to earth, his eyes vacant and half rolled up into his head. "You will go back into town and turn yourself in to the chief of police."

"Not greedy, you say? That one seemed quite desperate for his wish." Roderick watched the retreating figure of the ghoul, who now walked with the stiff gait of one compelled by magic rather than desire.

Ben's brow furrowed. "Yes, something's off. That's not like Kletus at all."

Roderick shrugged. "I couldn't discern his intent. My powers are still weakened."

"Go rest. I'll look into it."

Roderick turned away, feeling the pull of his own dark realm where nightmares were spun from the threads of reality.