MY SUGAR MUMMY IS A BEAUTIFUL VAMPIRE

The rain had finally stopped, but a heavy mist clung to the streets as Blake, Reggie, and Randal made their way through the city. They moved slowly, their bodies still healing from the brutal fight with Duncan. Gunther's lifeless form lay cradled in Reggie's arms, wrapped carefully in his own tattered cloak.

Blake walked ahead, his face a mask of grief and anger. Every few steps, he would glance back at Gunther's body, as if hoping to see some sign of life. But there was nothing - just the still, pale face of their fallen friend, now a stark contrast to the vibrant person he had been.

"We should have stayed and fought," Blake muttered, breaking the heavy silence.

Reggie sighed, shifting Gunther's weight in his arms. "You know we couldn't, Blake. We were outmatched. If we'd stayed..."

"We'd all be dead," Randal finished, his voice hollow. "Gunther's sacrifice would have been for nothing."

Blake spun around, his eyes flashing with anger. "And what good is his sacrifice now? We ran away like cowards!"

"We retreated to fight another day," Reggie countered, his voice firm despite the pain etched on his face. "That's what Gunther would have wanted."

Blake opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat. He knew Reggie was right, but the admission tasted bitter.

They continued in silence for a while, each lost in their own thoughts. The city around them seemed muted, as if the world itself was mourning Gunther's passing.

As they turned down a narrow alley, Randal suddenly spoke up. "We need to rest," his voice hoarse with exhaustion. "We're not healing as fast as we should."

Reggie nodded, carefully laying Gunther's body down on the soft grass by the alley. "Just for a moment," he agreed, wincing as he stretched his wounded limbs.

Blake paced restlessly, unable to sit still. "We can't stop for long," he muttered. "We need to get him to the parish before..."

He didn't finish the sentence, but they all knew what he meant. Before decomposition set in. Before the reality of Gunther's death became even more undeniable.

As they sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, Randal suddenly chuckled softly.

"What?" Blake asked, his tone sharp with irritation.

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Randal shook his head, a sad smile playing on his lips. "I was just remembering the day Gunther met Rose.Do you remember, Reggie?"

Reggie chuckled before speaking "Of course I do. He has gone on a solo mission and just returned. We were the ones who were tasked to .."Take care" of Rose then. Though he was in on the details but he sure as hell didn't expect to see us camping with our target,"

Blake listened silently, a pang of envy shooting through him. He hadn't known Gunther then, hadn't been part of their world. Sometimes, it still felt like he was an outsider looking in.

Reggie laughed softly, the sound a mixture of mirth and pain. "Remember how he made Rose laugh back then?"

Randal grinned. "That ridiculous bet. If he could make her laugh within a week, we would let him be in charge of all tasks that will be given to us for at least, a week ."

"And he did it," Reggie said, shaking his head in wonder. "He made Rose laugh, with that terrible pun about vampires and steaks."

"'Why don't vampires like steaks?'" Randal quoted, his voice a poor imitation of Gunther's. "'Because they're too high in stakes!'"

For a moment, the air was filled with their laughter, a bittersweet sound that echoed in the pre-dawn stillness. But as quickly as it had come, the moment passed, and the weight of their loss settled over them once more.

"He always knew how to lighten the mood," Reggie said softly, reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from Gunther's forehead. "Even in the darkest times."

Blake watched them, feeling the ache of grief and the sting of exclusion.

As the first hints of dawn began to lighten the sky, Blake realized they needed to find shelter and transportation quickly. They couldn't risk being seen in daylight, especially not with Gunther's body.

"We need to find a vehicle," Blake said, his voice hoarse with emotion. "We can't be seen like this."

Reggie nodded,"You're right. But how?"

Blake scanned the area, his keen vampire senses picking up the faint scent of human habitation nearby. "There's a house not far from here. I'll go check it out. You two stay here with Gunther."

Randal and Reggie nodded. Blake set off towards the scent of humanity, moving as quickly as his wounded body would allow.

After a short walk, Blake came upon a small, weathered house. Paint peeled from its wooden siding, and an old pickup truck sat in the overgrown driveway. The place had seen better days, but it was exactly what they needed.

Blake approached the front door, listening intently. He could hear the slow, steady heartbeat of a single occupant inside. Taking a deep breath, he knocked.

After a moment, the door creaked open, revealing an elderly man with a weathered face and sharp, suspicious eyes. He peered at Blake through the screen door, not opening it fully.

"What do you want?" the old man asked, his voice gruff with sleep and wariness.

Blake put on his most charming smile, despite the pain coursing through his body. "I'm sorry to bother you so early, sir. My friends and I have had car trouble down the road. I was hoping we might be able to borrow your truck to get to the nearest bus stop."

The old man's eyes narrowed. "At this hour? Seems mighty suspicious to me, young man."

Blake's smile faltered slightly. He hadn't anticipated this level of resistance. "I understand your concern, sir. We're in a bit of an urgent situation. Perhaps I could offer you some money for the inconvenience?"

The old man shook his head. "Not interested. Now, if you'll excuse me-"

As the man began to close the door, Blake felt a surge of desperation. They needed that truck. Without thinking, he pushed against the screen door, his vampire strength easily overcoming the old lock.

The man stumbled back, fear replacing suspicion in his eyes. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Blake stepped into the house, his eyes beginning to glow with an otherworldly light. He hated using his powers like this, but they were out of options.

"Listen to me carefully," Blake said, his voice taking on a hypnotic quality. "You want to help us. You're going to give me the keys to your truck, and then you're going to go back to bed and forget this ever happened."

The old man's face went slack, his eyes glazing over. "I... I want to help you," he mumbled.

"That's right," Blake encouraged, feeling a pang of guilt. "Where are your truck keys?"

The man shuffled over to a hook by the door, plucking off an old key ring. He handed it to Blake without a word.

"Thank you," Blake said softly. "Now, go back to bed. When you wake up, you won't remember any of this."

The old man nodded dully and shuffled off towards what Blake assumed was the bedroom. Blake waited until he heard the creak of bedsprings before slipping out of the house.

He jogged back to where Reggie and Randal waited, the truck keys clutched tightly in his hand. As he approached, he saw the relief on their faces.

"I got us a ride," he said, holding up the keys. "Let's go."

They carefully loaded Gunther's body into the bed of the old pickup, covering him with a tarp they found in the truck. As the sky began to lighten with the approaching dawn, they set off down the road, the old house disappearing in the rearview mirror.

As they drove through the road, the mood in the truck was somber. Randal sat in the back with Gunther, keeping vigil over their fallen friend. Reggie navigated, his eyes scanning the horizon.

Blake's hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his mind heavy with the weight of what he'd done. But as he glanced in the mirror at Gunther's covered form, he knew it had been necessary. They had to get to the parish, no matter the cost.

His mind raced with thoughts of vengeance, of the battles to come. But underneath it all was a deep, aching sadness that he couldn't shake.

Hours passed, the sun climbing higher in the sky. They stuck to back roads, avoiding populated areas as much as possible. Their wounds were healing, but slowly, the aftereffects of Duncan's attack still lingering in their bodies.

Blake focused on driving, his knuckles white on the steering wheel.

The day wore on, the sun tracking its way across the sky. They stopped only when absolutely necessary, always on edge, always watching for danger.

As twilight began to fall, painting the sky in deep purples and blues, Reggie suddenly sat up straighter. "Listen," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Blake and Randal strained their ears, and then they heard it - the faint, distant sound of church bells.

"We're close," Reggie breathed, a mixture of relief and sorrow in his voice.

Blake nodded, pressing down on the accelerator. The sound of the bells grew louder, calling them forward, guiding them to their destination.

As they crested a hill, they saw it in the distance - a small stone church, its spire reaching towards the darkening sky. The parish where Gunther had always said he wanted to be laid to rest.

The bells continued to ring, their mournful tones echoing across the town. For Blake, Reggie, and Randal, it was both a welcome and a lament - the end of one journey, and the beginning of another.

They had made it. Against all odds, they had brought Gunther home. But as they approached the parish, each of them knew that the hardest part was yet to come. Saying goodbye to their friend, and facing the uncertain future that lay ahead.

The truck rumbled to a stop in front of the church, the engine's noise fading away to leave only the sound of the bells. For a long moment, none of them moved, each lost in their own thoughts and memories.

Then, slowly, they began to prepare for the task ahead - laying their friend to rest, and gathering the strength for the battles to come.