Chapter Eight

Zarek had fully expected another taunt, or jab, or insult. But what he saw when he decided aloud to stay in the cabin with Vepir was anything but. The incubus had undoubtedly been shocked, judging by the way he had flinched and swung around to meet Zarek's uncertain gaze. But then, just as before, a mask slid into place, shielding Vepir's true thoughts behind an intangible wall.

Zarek couldn't deny the relief that swept through him at Vepir's response. Something had shifted in the incubus, but he wasn't quite sure what.

As Vepir turned back to the fire he had built in the fireplace, Zarek took a cautionary step forward, wanting to join Vepir on the floor in front of the fire but knowing full well that he would be unwelcome. He cleared his throat, trying to break the tension between them.

"So… this is your place, then…?"

Vepir sighed, silently relieved at the change of subject. "Oh, yeah, I've come back here a few times over the years, whenever I needed to lay low. It's not really mine, though. Belonged to some human artist decades ago."

Zarek's curiosity was once again piqued. He realized this was the first piece of information Vepir had ever really shared with him, and he was ready to leap at the opportunity to learn more, like a fish latching onto a hook. He took another careful step towards Vepir and the fire, studying the incubus with growing intrigue. "An artist, huh? That explains the carvings. Did you know them very well?"

Vepir narrowed his eyes at Zarek. He shrugged, though his expression was wary. "I don't know people, Zarek. I don't make friends."

Zarek took immediate notice in the contradiction between Vepir's eyes and body language. It was apparent there was a deeper story behind this "artist," but it was Vepir's words that sparked the usual annoyance in him. However much he wanted to press further, he knew that it would be like banging his head against a brick wall trying to pry anything from Vepir that the incubus wasn't willing to offer.

"Right," Zarek sighed, feeling defeated and out of his league. "No intense relationships. Whatever you say."

Vepir flashed his teeth in a cheeky grin. "Now you're catching on."

Zarek bit down his frustration. It was clear that Vepir was still trying to maintain his guard, putting on an aloof front to avoid Zarek's questions. He held back a sharp retort, knowing it would only rile Vepir up, and attempted to keep his tone light and casual. He failed, the casual tone coming off as sarcastic and half irritated.

"You're an enigma, aren't you? No intense relationships, no deep emotions, just a smarmy little smirk and a lot of attitude."

Vepir's smirk only grew, seeming to prove Zarek's point, no matter how distasteful that point was. "Smarmy," he repeated slowly. "That's a new one. I'll just add that to my list."

Zarek rolled his eyes, fighting against his returning irritation. If this was truly how Vepir wanted to play, then he had no choice but to play his game of sarcasm and dissonance. "A list, huh?" He scoffed. "For all those insults you use on all your victims, right? I'm honored to be added to such a distinguished list…"

Vepir raised an eyebrow, suddenly glancing sideways at Zarek. "Not for my 'victims,' dumbass," he corrected. "For me."

Zarek froze, silently kicking himself for being insensitive. He hadn't meant to be cruel… he had simply been attempting to dish out Vepir's sarcasm back at him, like a taste of his own medicine. Now he felt like an ass. "I…" He stammered, desperately trying to backpedal. "I didn't mean -"

Vepir shrugged, his mask of indifference on full display as he turned back to the fire. "I don't care," he shot back quietly. "You think a few words can hurt me? Well, they don't. I've heard them all. Throw all the insults you want at me."

Zarek's heart twisted at Vepir's flat, dismissive tone. The anger was apparent in his voice, and Zarek truly couldn't tell if he was simply imagining the pain beneath the words. Vepir's casual attitude was back in full force, but the damage had been done. Zarek could see the vulnerability and hurt in the incubus's eyes, even if he was trying to cover it up with arrogance and bravado.

Zarek groaned inwardly, guilt twisting into frustration. Why the Hell did Vepir have to be so damn stubborn and aloof?

"Do you ever drop the act?" He nearly pleaded, his voice strained with his frustration. "Even for a second, do you ever let yourself feel anything real? Or do you just drown yourself in sarcasm and mockery and try to hide your emotions from the world, like a damn coward?"

"It's not cowardly," Vepir shot back, his own tone quickly escalating in anger. "I drown myself in sarcasm and mockery because I have to. Someone like me can't afford to appear weak in this world."

Zarek's hands clenched at his sides, his tone matching Vepir's rage. "Right, because being snarky and rude is so much more respectable than being honest and open. Who needs emotions when you can just throw insults around like a damn clown, right?!"

A mischievous smile suddenly tugged at Vepir's lips. He raised his calloused fists into the firelight. Even after the brutal fights of the day before, they were rough and unmarked by scars or bruises. "I can throw these around, too, don't forget," he rebutted. "I'd say that's a lot more effective than a few paper-thin insults."

The sight of Vepir raising his fists in the firelight immediately brought back the memories of the incubus's enchanted brass knuckles, igniting into flame with every ferocious punch. Zarek faltered for a moment, but his irritation didn't fade. "Right, because physical violence is so much more productive than actually talking things through and being diplomatic," he retorted, remembering the wisdom and teachings of the Noctis Circle. "Violence isn't the answer to everything. You could be so much more productive if you learned to use your words instead of your fists."

Vepir's own irritation only increased. He could feel himself reaching the end of his patience, but he'd be damned if he let Zarek know how much this was affecting him. He sighed casually, resting one of his fists beneath his perfect chin. "Sure, Sunshine, I can't imagine you'd been any more 'productive' with your feelings. Especially not where I found you…"

Zarek felt the insult like a physical punch to the face, the weight of everything he'd endured pressing down on him alongside the insult like an invisible crushing force. He knew without a shadow of a doubt that diplomacy, wisdom, and emotional honesty were the core tenets he would always hold onto, and no amount of taunting from Vepir would change that; he had seen firsthand the destruction that unchecked violence brought, and he refused to believe that brute strength was the answer to everything. Vepir's blood-soaked fists might have solved problems in the past, but they left devastation in their wake.

Even as frustration gnawed at him, Zarek stood his ground, his inner conviction solid. He knew by heart that true strength lay in restraint, in understanding, in finding intelligent solutions without resorting to chaos and destruction. The incubus's mocking grin only deepened his resolve – he wouldn't let Vepir's twisted worldview shake what he knew to be true.

But his tongue, always quicker, fired off a sharp retort before he could stop himself. His lips curled into a sardonic smile as he met Vepir's gaze head-on. "Oh, I'm sorry for not being strong enough for your high standards," he sneered, sarcasm thick in his voice. "Next time I'm in trouble, I'll just throw a few insults and some sarcasm at my captors. I'm sure that'll work wonders."

It was a jab, sure, but it was Zarek's way of reaffirming his stance. Violence wasn't the answer, and no amount of snark from Vepir would convince him otherwise.

But it wasn't snark that Vepir responded with, as Zarek had expected.

In a rush of movement, Vepir stood. Before Zarek could even comprehend what was happening, Vepir's hand was clenched around his throat. The incubus's eyes flashed, an inferno of fury behind the silver hue.

Zarek felt his back press against the wall as Vepir lifted him off the ground by the neck. He tried to cry out, but the pressure on his windpipe only allowed a strangled gasp to escape his lips.

"That's the difference between you and me, Sunshine," Vepir sneered, his voice a low, sinister rumble. Zarek fought uselessly against Vepir's grip, his eyes wide with terror. "You'd never catch me chained like some damn animal in a black market like you allowed yourself to be. I'd fight. They wouldn't catch me unless I was no longer breathing." He paused, letting his words sink in. "Now, do you know why that is…?"

Zarek's nails dug into Vepir's wrist as the incubus tightened his hand around Zarek's neck. His lungs burned, screaming for air. The demon's legs kicked helplessly beneath him, scrabbling against the wall even as his body felt as cold as ice, his heart pounding in his neck against Vepir's iron grip.

Vepir leaned in close. Zarek could do nothing but listen to the sinister words that came from the merciless incubus's mouth, unable to fight back or free himself. Vepir's words ghosted over Zarek's ear as the incubus leaned in close.

"Because I'm not weak. I don't let my feelings get the better of my intuition, my cunning… And if you had been trained properly like I had, you wouldn't be so damn spineless."

Zarek's mind was racing as Vepir's hand squeezed brutally against his throat. He could feel the sheer fury and raw power in the incubus's grasp, and his blood rushed with adrenaline. His hands began to tremble, still fighting to free himself from Vepir's grasp as black spots danced in his vision.

His eyes looked frantically around, searching for something – anything – that could free him from this. But the walls were bare, the sparseness of the interior of the cabin like a cruel taunt.

He had followed Vepir here, knowing full well how heartlessly Vepir had slaughtered innocent people. He had seen it firsthand, and now, as his lungs felt as if they would burst from his chest, he would know what it was like to perish at Vepir's hand, just as so many others had.

He closed his eyes, tears spilling onto his face as he resigned himself to despair.

The thought that his life had been so utterly meaningless was like a nail in his coffin, crumbling the last of his resolve to fight back.

And suddenly, the pressure around his neck vanished.

Zarek fell to the ground, landing hard on his knees as his legs gave way beneath him. He sputtered against the floor, sucking in deep, ragged breaths, the fire in his lungs spreading up his throat. His entire body was trembling, and his hands reached up to his throat, as if to coax more air into his searing lungs.

Vepir took a step back, a resentful grimace on his face as he saw Zarek gasp for breath.

Without hesitation, Vepir snarled to himself, stepping past Zarek. In one swift movement, the incubus scooped up his black bag and slung it over his shoulder.

"Talk shit to me again, and I won't be showing mercy next time."

Zarek could do nothing more than cough and gasp as Vepir disappeared through the door, slamming it shut behind him with such force that the entire cabin shuddered.