Mae Clayton hadn't been back to Santa Carla in nearly a decade, and the only thing that had changed was the clothes on the drunken frat boys parading around the boardwalk. Everything still smelled sticky-sweet and stale, a mix of old beer and fallen cotton candy. The lights were too bright at night, giving a false sense of security to the tourists. During the day, you could see the wear and tear more easily, but a few coats of paint and some cheery signs usually made the visitors forget the seedy underbelly of the beach town. She remembered the screaming most of all, most of it from people on rides that they really shouldn't be going on with that much food in their bellies. But every now and then, the screams would be all too bloodcurdling, another victim of the murder capitol of the world. Sometimes people stopped when they heard such a scream, but they were usually in the darkest of places, and no one dared to stay still for very long. You just kept your head down and moved along…unless you wanted to be next.
Still, when the sun was high, the screams were almost always from the people on the roller coaster, so you could ignore the fact that the sticky red stuff under your feet was just as likely to be blood as it was soda. Mae tended to her jewelry stall under the shade of her umbrella, moving it periodically as the sun changed positions in the sky. Her bread and butter were the cheaply made, quickly produced bracelets she could bang out in less than an hour these days. Her display was filled with them, along with some fancier necklaces, earrings, and even a few rings. All costume jewelry, of course; she couldn't afford real stones. Not that the tourists could afford such things either, but if you sell enough quantity, it can make up for the lack of quality. The summer season was over, so business would be slowing down until Halloween. She'd made some good money in the few weeks she'd been back, but it wasn't a lot in the long run. At least the old bag had left her some spending money. She'd last until the tourists came back.
Bouncing around in the foster system had been a bumpy, but ultimately average ride. She'd heard some horror stories, but she'd never been in one. Her ride had ultimately had three stops: one family as a baby, another for most of her childhood, and a few years with a single mom and her sister (and six annoying kids) in high school. She didn't care that none of them had loved her enough to adopt her. They'd all been relatively pleasant people, and she'd never been hurt or underfed or cold. She'd had it better than most, and she was grateful for that. College had always been on her mind, so she'd worked hard and gotten into a decent one in Los Angeles, not too far from her last family, just in case she needed some backup. Lola had always needed help babysitting, so that had given her some cash during her years hitting the books.
With a bachelor's degree in medieval history freshly in her hand and no real desire to teach, she'd been wondering what to do with herself when word had come that she was the sole heir of her very distant Aunt Lydia, who'd been far too old to take Mae in when she was an infant. It seemed that she was her only living relative now (that wasn't lost to the winds, at least), and so the old girl had left her the rotting old house Mae had seen from a distance when she lived with family number two. Wonderful. Aunt Lydia had given her a few thousand dollars, a fully paid-off house, and a load of refurbishing to do. Oh well. It would do. At least the piping worked, and the only thing it needed that she couldn't do herself was a fresh coat of paint on the outside. That would have to wait until after another tourist season. Since work that wasn't tied to the pier was scarce, she'd settled for selling her hobby work of making copper and leather jewelry. Everyone from college girls to stoned punks bought her wares. So now here she was, packing up for the day as the sun began heading down to the horizon.
A somewhat beat up rolling suitcase served as transportation for her goods as she put the closed sign on her stall and headed off for the bus stop. Half an hour later and a mile walked dragging her livelihood behind her like some kind of traveling salesman, she was back home. A cup of tea and a frozen dinner later, she fell asleep in front of the TV, lulled to sleep by some inane documentary. When she jolted awake to the sound of a loud infomercial, she sighed and turned it off, grumbling about jazzercise tapes and spandex. A glance out the window showed that sunrise was on the horizon. She really needed to stop doing this. Gathering her cup and plate, she cleaned up and listened to the creaking of her home as she did the dishes.
Lydia's house was a three story Victorian affair that was rumored to have been built by the same people who owned the old hotel that had fallen into the sea. Back when she was a small thing, the local kids had talked about riding their bikes by the house to see the ghosts in the windows. She'd tagged along one time, curious to see why her Aunt put up with wraiths and spirits. Turns out, the "ghosts" were just her Aunt and the two maids she hired walking by the windows at all hours of the night in old-fashioned clothing and uniforms. After that, Mae didn't listen much to the supernatural stories the children liked to spread around. Vampires? Really? Ugh. The Frog kids were a crazy bunch. Her younger foster siblings eventually stopped talking to them, and she was saved from the elementary school weirdoes.
Little did she know that those two creepy kids were right. She should have listened. That might have saved her from her problems in Los Angeles. She froze when she heard the sound of motorcycles; the sound itself wasn't so unusual, but it was always coming from far away, following the road a mile from her front yard. These were getting closer and closer…and then they stopped. She ignored it, but a cold shiver ran down her spine. A frantic rustling at the door caught her attention as she finished drying the last dish. Soft cursing, a snarl, and a muttered conversation followed. Then, there was a knock. She shouldn't answer it. She shouldn't. She shouldn't…
"Evening…"
Why did she ever leave Los Angeles?
Another night, another successful hunt. You never knew how much you missed routine until you were torn from it. David led the pack on their motorcycles, tearing across the beach, emptier than usual now that it was getting colder outside. It had rained earlier in the week, but their bikes were in top condition, eating up the miles with ease. He heard the whoops and hollers of his brothers behind him, the sounds joyous and carefree. His face hardened as he thought of the long months behind him, months spent in fear and worry for his family.
Max was dead, and good riddance, but the thought of losing his three brothers forever was one of the few things that truly frightened him. It had taken him ages to get free of the antlers, the pain and shock slowing him down. He was lucky that Michael and his family had left the house to regroup somewhere else. It had given him enough time to collect the remains of his brothers and flee the house before the night was over. He was glad he'd never told Michael the deepest secret of all vampires: short of incineration in a raging fire, where every particle of the bloodsucker was destroyed beyond recognition, a vampire could survive almost any attempt to kill them. They could be brought back with enough blood and time. Even just a small piece of a vampire's body could do the trick. Dwayne's arm, Paul's hand, Marko's head…that was all he'd needed to reform his family. The spirit, however twisted, always lingers at the edge of the void, willing to be called back to the world of the living if the deed is done quickly enough. Cover the parts in blood, the blood of the sire and the blood of a victim, and the vampire's spirit will return, drawn by the irresistible call of their sire.
Even though it had weakened him further, David had sacrificed as much of his blood as he dared to revive his family, only leaving them to quickly kill a victim and drag his corpse back to the cave to drench his brothers in his blood. Then, it was all a matter of waiting as bodies reformed and souls took over the flesh. Marko was the first to come back, being the least damaged of the three. He'd brought David fresh blood since the leader had refused to leave the others' sides while they recovered. The fact that the normally aloof David was allowing himself to be so openly worried only made Marko's loyalty to his friend stronger. They'd sat curled together as Dwayne stitched himself together in his pool of blood, unable to look as his body formed anew. Even after years and years of killing and ripping victims apart, it was unbearable to watch their brother snarl and cry out in agony when his spirit returned too early, causing him excruciating pain.
When Dwayne was whole again, David and Marko just quietly pulled him into their little circle, waiting as Paul lay deathly still. Their youngest brother was also the one who was the most damaged from the fight at the Emerson's. Almost all of him had been dissolved by the holy water. It was only good fortune that had left most of his left hand whole for David to fish out, the leader's own skin remaining marred by the holy water for days until it finally healed. Luckily, Paul's body was whole again by the time his spirit was pulled back into it. As they waited, David said nothing whenever Dwayne shivered and whimpered in his sleep, still tormented by his recent suffering. He knew his second-in-command was tough, and he'd get over it eventually, but he was willing to allow the man his dignity and said nothing. Even Marko couldn't find it in himself to tease his brother. When Paul finally woke up, they silently held each other for nearly the entire night, refusing to let go even when the need for blood sang in their empty veins. When Paul whispered his thanks to David as the sun rose, the other two fighting to stay awake, the eldest simply whispered back "You're my brothers." No other words were needed. They all understood. The next evening, they fed as a pack for the first time in months.
That summer had one of the highest body counts on record in Santa Carla. Never underestimate the hunger of a man who has just cheated death once again.
When they reached the entrance to the cave, David sensed that something was off. He didn't smell any humans, and the scent of vampire was their own. No, it was something natural, something he couldn't hunt down and kill. The boys quieted down as he got off his bike, picking up on their leader's concern. They silently made their way down, ready to fight whatever had their leader worried. But as it turns out, you can't fight everything. The entire cave was flooded, the whole floor hidden under several feet of seawater. All their stuff, even the posters tacked to the wall, were gone, carried out with the tide. It wasn't anything irreplaceable, but this was home, and the boys stood there in shock for several minutes. It was Dwayne who spotted the large hole in the cave wall where the sea had finally made her way inside. The rains must have finally eroded enough of the rock away to let the sea destroy their home. There was only the sound of water quietly lapping at their former home as the others looked to David, waiting for his pronouncement. Where would they go? What could they do? The sun was less than an hour from rising, and the sea could keep on rising and drown them as they slept. It wouldn't kill them, but it would make waking up very difficult if they were underwater when the sun set.
"Boys, I won't lie, things are about to get very difficult…" David growled, kicking a rock into the swirling tide. Paul grimaced, not very fond of water even months after returning from his second death. Dwayne remained silent, ready to follow David's orders. It was Marko who finally spoke up, a clever spark in his eyes.
"The old Comstock place!" He chirped, grinning as he pictured the old house. "The old lady who lived there died a while ago, I heard some kids talking about it the other night. It should be abandoned. We can hide there tonight."
David grinned, clapping Marko on the shoulder. "Good idea. Come on. Let's ride. We only have thirty minutes. Marko, show us where it is." It had once been unusual for David to be so openly affectionate with the others. They'd never been anything less than family, but after their run in with the Emerson's, David was allowing himself to be a little more open with his brothers.
The four hurried back up to their bikes, saddened by the loss of their home, but they'd figure something out. Marko led the way, his bike screaming down the road as he lead them from the cave, back through town, and through a small forest. The road through it was barely used, little more than a dirt trail. The sky was lightening, driving the boys to push their motorcycles to the limit. Finally, they saw the old Victorian looming before them. There was no car next to the house and no lights on inside. It was light enough to see without their headlights, not that they needed them, so they switched them off as they approached the house. Paul thought he saw a flicker of movement in the bottom right window, but thought nothing of it. Probably a curtain left behind by the hag. They parked by the side of the house, hurrying to the front. It seemed like no one came this way. If they decided to stay, they'd find someplace better to keep their rides. David tried to open the door, but it wouldn't budge. He tried again, but there was nothing. Cursing, he turned to the boys.
"We're locked out. Someone lives here. Someone human." He snarled. Dwayne growled, Paul's eyes went wide, and Marko said something that would have scandalized even the most prolific of swearers. Then they froze as they heard a shuffle of movement inside. Something porcelain was being set on a counter, probably a plate. David grinned. "Play along boys." He whispered, the others grinning at him as he knocked politely.
For a moment, there was silence, then the sound of footsteps as someone approached the door. A pause as whoever it was looked out of the peephole, and then the door opened. The owner of the house was a young woman, of middling height, skin pale but freckling, obviously a recent transplant from somewhere with either less sun, or from a more indoor life. Her hair was dark brown tinged with red, natural or not, it didn't matter. Brown eyes met blue as David put on his most innocent smile. Marko barely held back a giggle, glad that he was mostly hidden behind Dwayne. No one could convince people to do crazy things quite like David.
"Evening. My friend's bike has a flat tire. Can we use your phone to call the tow company?" His voice and demeanor reflected the purest of intent, just some guy out with his friends who got a flat at the wrong place at the wrong time. "I'm sorry it's so early. We were just heading home." For a moment, the brunette was silent, absorbing his words. To David's everlasting surprise, the girl just scoffed. Shit, was he losing it? This always worked on chicks!
"Look, there's four bikes outside my house, none of which have a flat tire. You couldn't make it all the way down here with one; the road's too bumpy. You aren't drunk; I can't smell any alcohol on you. It's too early for guys like you to be out on a joyride, and it's way too late for someone just coming home from a beach party. Those idiots always just sleep on the sand if they get too tired." She spoke quickly, with the patter of someone who was used to the fast pace of a city where no one listened for very long. "So, there's only two explanations: either you guys are the worst robbers I've ever heard of, or you're something else." Her eyes were sharp, too sharp, as she looked David over. "You're them. The vampires who run this town, aren't you? The ones Max used to rule."
A stunned silence followed her words. Even David had a hard time rallying himself. Fuck. This girl knew too much, and he had no idea who she was. She obviously wasn't a vampire; he could smell the human on her. Then how the hell did she know all of this? She wasn't an Emerson and she wasn't a Frog. Those two freaky kids had left with the Emerson's ages ago. He decided to stick with the innocent tack.
"Vampires? Us? Miss, I don't know what you're talking about." He could feel Dwayne ready himself to tear the girl apart, Paul and Marko's nervous energy rising as the sun drew closer.
"Oh? Really? Then why can't you enter my house? Oh, right! Because I didn't invite you in. Otherwise I'd be dead by now." She grinned harshly, knowing that she'd backed him into the proverbial corner. "Drop the act. The sun's almost up, so this must be your last resort, because I know that you wouldn't still be here if you didn't have any other option."
"All right, then." David straightened up, his eyes cold and calculating. His smile was strangely serene, something that usually meant trouble for whoever was on the receiving end of it. "Our last home flooded. We need a place to stay the night."
"I see. Well, I can't blame you for coming here. Aunt Lydia was always a bit of a weirdo, apparently. I'm sure most people still think it's abandoned. Tell you what," the girl straightened up as well, standing toe to toe with David despite her sleep-rumpled clothes. "I'll make you a deal. This house has its secrets, one of them being a room that has no windows and only one door. Absolutely no outside light gets in, day or night. That room can be yours, if you promise me two things."
"Name them." David growled, taking the gamble as he felt the sun inching closer. Even Dwayne was getting nervous. That was always a bad sign.
"One, you swear not to kill me. I'm giving you a place to sleep; I'd rather not regret this decision later. And two, you protect me when I go out at night. I work all day, so I'm not usually out on the town, but when I am, I get an escort. We can work out all the smaller details later, but the sun's almost here. Do we have a deal?" The girl held out her hand, everything below the wrist outside her doorway, meaning that David could pull her out if he wanted to without violating the invitation rule. It was a sign of trust, a foolish one. This girl was either very confident or very reckless. A quick look at his brothers showed that they were willing to take the deal, so with his smile turning a little less harsh and a little more triumphant, David took her hand and shook it.
"You have my word, and the word of my brothers, that we won't kill you, and we'll keep you safe." He let go of her hand, ignoring how she shook it out a little. His tight grip was meant as a threat, to remind her who she was dealing with. She might be worried for her life, but when they slept, his brothers would be vulnerable. He was taking a risk with their lives yet again. It better be worth it. "Now let us in."
"I invite all four of you in." The girl said, stepping aside as the boys rushed inside. She slammed the door shut and hurried up the stairs, well aware of the wide windows and their lack of curtains. "This way." She led them up to the second floor, giving them no time to see the layout of the house. It didn't matter. David would kill her soon enough if she proved to be untrustworthy.
Down the hall and to the right, the corridor lit by some lights and a wide bay window at the end, there was a long, uninterrupted wall on the right side. A door at the far end made it seem like one big room, but the girl stopped a third of the way down the wall, tugging on an old lamp fixture inside a worn bookcase. Something creaked as the outline of a door appeared in the paneling. Their host let go of the lamp, letting it settle back down as she stepped forward to push the door inward. Inside was a small room with some bookshelves, a few boxes, a floor lamp, and a large rug. There were old books on the shelves, as well as a stereo in the corner. A poster of Fleetwood Mac's "Rumors" was taped to the wall, along with one for David Bowie's "The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust" and Heart's "Little Queen" albums. The girl ushered the boys inside, glancing worriedly at the window at the end of the hall.
"There's nothing for you to hang on, so you'll have to sleep on the floor tonight. Feel free to use the stereo. I've got some cassettes in one of the boxes. I'll come back when the sun sets. If you really need to get out, push here." Her speech was hurried as she showed them a small lever hidden inside an indentation in the wall. "It opens the door, but it swings inward, so be careful. I wouldn't come out until the sun is down, though; the window lights the whole place up all day." She began to leave, but Dwayne stopped her with a hand on her wrist. She tensed, but turned back.
"What's your name?" He asked, his eyes boring into her, examining her with his keen eyes. She was shorter than all of them, and seemed to be weak, but he'd learned not to trust outward appearances. Star had seemed weak too, and she had betrayed them.
"Mae. Mae Clayton." She replied, tugging her hand back from him somewhat less than gracefully. "It won't mean anything to you, I think. I'm not much of anybody in your world."
"Then how do you know so much?" Paul frowned, leaning against the back wall.
"When you keep your ears open in a city as big as Los Angeles, you hear things. And when you hear things, you begin to see things. And when you see things, you begin to make friends." Mae shrugged, heading back out into the hall.
"Then why are you here, and not in L.A. with these…friends?" David asked quietly, his eyes glaring into hers as she reached for the lamp.
"The air didn't agree with me." She smiled enigmatically, her expression one of dark amusement as she pulled the lever, closing the door and leaving the boys in pitch black.