"Start digging."
Michael's back molars ground together as his palms snagged on the old wooden handle of the shovel. Slicked with sweat, and a bit sticky from blood, he ignored the splinter that sunk deep under the skin of his left palm.
His gaze connected with Star's. The panic and pain in her eyes fueled his anger. She was helpless in the matter; the gash on her temple bled slowly now, gumming together the dark curls that framed her face. The kitchen towel was an effective gag; Michael's leather belt looped and knotted around her wrists tied her arms behind her back. Star was on her knees, one foot bare, having lost the slipper somewhere between the house and the field.
They both knew she could try but she'd never outrun the gun.
Said gun that was currently aimed at Michael's head. The black-gloved finger on the trigger was steady, not itchy. Their attacker was precise, methodical, seemed to have drawn up a solid plan that prepared for all eventualities.
The Boys, when they had come for revenge on the Emersons, had relied on brute strength and righteous anger. Paul and Dwayne had attacked in brutal fashion, underestimating the tenacity of the Frogs and Sam. Well, more like Nanook and Sam, but the Frogs still claimed Paul's death for their own maximum body count.
David had hung back, playing a longer game with psychological twists, but still miscalculated Michael's desire to be human. And the fact that Grandpa did a hell of a lot of taxidermy projects came in handy.
Not so much right now, to Michael's dismay. He could sure make good use of another pair of horns but there was nothing to use but the shovel and his bare hands.
Michael swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, licking his lips as he breathed harshly through his mouth. Blood clotted his nose from where the handle of the gun had smashed it. Opening the door had been a huge mistake…
"Stop making eyes at your traitor girlfriend and dig already." The hand holding the gun never wavered, never changed its aim.
Michael snorted and spat before he put the edge of the shovel to the ground and pushed it in. The soil hadn't had much time to settle, was still brown and rocky with clumps of dried grass spread out over the pile.
The cleanup in the aftermath of the vampire attack had disgusted them all but they couldn't live in a house with dead bodies. Well, there'd been only one full corpse. Dwayne was literally in chunks and all that remained of Paul had been a skeleton and the horrific corrosion that his liquefied flesh and blood had done to the pipes. The plumbing replacement was gonna be expensive. Max had burned to ash but Lucy had insisted Grandpa, Michael, and Sam haul away the broken stones of the fireplace just the same. She and Star had cleaned, bleached, and vacuumed their way through the entirety of Grandpa's house for several weeks, removing any trace of the Lost Boys.
They'd wrapped David, horns and all, into an old piece of carpeting. Dwayne had gone into black trash bags; Paul's bones had, too. Grandpa, the Frogs, Sam, and Michael had dug the hole east of the house, in the unused section of pasture on Grandpa's land. David's corpse, the black trash bags, and the thirty-seven vacuum bags that probably contained Max had all gone in.
The dirt had refilled the hole and they had tried to move on with their lives…
Michael dug, the soil easier to remove the second time. It had been dry in Santa Carla, even for a Northern California autumn. It was crumbly and broke easily under the metal of the shovel. The lantern he worked by only illuminated a small patch but he could see the wind pick it up and blow the dust around.
Star whimpered as some of the dirt blew into her eyes, unable to rub it away. It coated the tear tracks that ran down her pale cheeks, making them stand out more. Michael tried to focus on the task at hand, when all he really wanted to do was smack the gun away and tackle their assailant.
"Don't get any bright ideas, Michael. You don't have vampire blood in your veins anymore."
"I'm not," Michael growled softly under his breath. Unfortunately, it was true. The death of Max had undone the half transformation and reverted Michael, Star, and Laddie back to being fully human. Michael knew he'd be no match for the five-foot-two antagonist.
She'd easily subdued both him and Star without much effort, and now that there was a gun in her hand, the odds were even worse.
Rubbing the sweat off his brow with the back of his forearm, Michael blew out a hard breath. He was maybe three feet down now. Another four feet and the trash bags would come into view. The night was growing colder but the work kept him warm. Star was shivering hard, wearing one of her customary thin-strapped tops and a gauzy skirt. There hadn't been time to grab a jacket as they were marched outdoors.
"Dig faster and your troubles will be over all the sooner." The smirk on the dusty rose-colored lips reminded him of another smirk and Michael's stomach clenched hard, the anger churning his stomach.
"What, so you can kill us once you have what you want?" He barked back, gripping the wooden handle tighter. If only he could break off the end, make it sharp, like a stake…
"Nah. Not my job." The long, corn silk-yellow blonde hair fanned out over the collar of her leather jacket as the girl shook her head. "Don't think for a second I wouldn't enjoy it, because I would. Just not my job."
"Not your job, what the hell does that mean?" Michael resumed digging, half afraid of what the tiny creature meant by that.
"Ask her." The blonde smirked again before her expression turned into mocking surprise. "Oh right, Star's a little muzzled at the moment. Pity she couldn't hold her tongue beforehand but I guess I'll take her silence when I can get it."
Michael stole a glance at the dark-haired girl who knelt on the other side of the blonde. There was fury burning in her brown eyes and she shook her head, her arms straining against the bonds at her wrists.
"I don't understand."
"Of course you don't. You only knew the Lost Boys." The blonde clicked her tongue in rebuke. "Max's proud achievement in progeny. Fat lot of good it did him, since he's dead. They're all dead."
"If you know they're dead, why am I digging?" Michael groused. The side of the gun smashed into his already-wounded nose, moving at a speed he couldn't see in the dark. He cried out, dropping the shovel as he clutched his nose, the blood pouring out again. He was pretty sure she'd broken it this time.
"Dig and find out." The blonde answered, holding the gun still trained on him as she lit a cigarette with her other hand. Michael could hear Star crying but refused to look her direction. Shaking his head, trying to clear it, he let the blood run down his face as he picked the shovel up and returned to digging.
Time passed slowly; the moon hung in the dark sky, waning amongst the bright stars. Michael was down into the hole now, the pile of dirt a growing mountain to his right. His mind raced, wondering why Grandpa, his mother, and brother had not returned home. He had counted on them turning up and… and what? What could they do? Maybe outnumber this blonde freak but she had a gun and was obviously a vampire… wasn't she?
"Are you a vampire, too?" Michael ventured as he paused to rub his sweaty face with the sweatshirt he had taken off. The plastic lantern was down in the hole with him, casting shadows upward, making him look all the more like a macabre body snatcher.
"No."
"No?" Michael's brow furrowed in confusion. "A half vampire?"
"No."
"Then how the hell do you move so fast like one?"
The blonde snorted at his naïve assessment of supernatural powers. She got up from where she was crouched at the side of the hole, walking the few steps to where Star was, leaning forward on her knees. She had stopped shivering and was swaying a bit, exhausted from kneeling in the dry dirt for so long.
The muzzle of the gun turned to aim at the dark-haired girl's temple. Her brown eyes went wide in alarm and her lips moved against the kitchen towel, only sounds of fright escaping. Michael moved to climb out of the hole. "Don't you hurt her!"
"Oh, relax, lover-boy." The gun retrained on him, sending him to a sudden halt. "You keep digging. Your gabby girlfriend is going to tell you a story."
The kitchen towel came loose and settled around Star's neck. She coughed and gagged for a bit, groaning. "Michael?"
"What's she talking about, Star?"
Star chanced a glance upwards at the blonde. The action was met with the muzzle of the gun pressing against her temple, floating above it an expressionless face that seemed illuminated even in the dark. "I thought you were gone." She hissed softly.
"I was. Now I'm not." The smirk transformed the face, reminding Star of David's own propensity to smirks. Star flexed her wrists against the leather belt. "You were already smooth-tongued once. Now use your gift of the gab to tell dear Michael what I am."
Michael looked out over the edge of the hole, his face barely seen. Star pleaded silently with her eyes, wishing he would turn and hit the blonde with the shovel, while she was distracted. But Michael didn't seem to understand and did nothing.
"She's a ghoul."
"A what?"
"A ghoul, Michael. It's similar to a half vampire. All the powers and abilities but they don't fall asleep during the day and aren't burned by the sun. Don't have to drink blood, either."
Michael stared hard at Star. "You knew that and didn't tell us?"
"I thought they were dead, or fled, after Max… Most of them were only loyal to him. They would have to make their first kill to complete the transformation…"
"Wait, you said you didn't know Max was the secret David was protecting!" Michael growled. Star winced, turning her head away. "But you knew he had these… these ghoul things?"
"Oh, she knew. More than David realized she knew. But I bet she put on a good performance. Star was always a consummate actress. Did she do her little head toss and hair flip for you, Michael?" The blonde was positively giddy.
"Damn it, Star!"
"Michael, I'm sorry…"
"Hellhounds aren't the only vampire protectors. You can't be a vampire these days without someone you can rely on to run your business or do errands. Thorn couldn't exactly pick up dry cleaning or balance the books at the video rental shop. So Max had ghouls."
"Who? Who were Max's ghouls?"
"Your mom worked at the shop, right?"
Michael snarled. "Mom's not a ghoul!"
"Nope, but Maria is." The blonde smiled. "She was top ghoul, too. A distraction for the Boys, to deflect them from taunting Max. All the while managing the store during the day. Pretty solid job security and a nice paycheck, to boot."
"And what, you worked there, too?"
"Michael…" Star tried to warn him. The muzzle dug into the gash on her temple, making her cry out.
"Star!"
"Tell him, Star."
"She… she…" Star gasped against the pain, at the starbursts behind her clenched eyelids. "She was the Boys' ghoul."
There was a loud thunk sound. Michael dropped the shovel in shock, scrambling to the edge of the hole again. He could see Star laying on her side in the dirt, knocked out, her arms still bound behind her. The blonde had hit her over the head with the gun. Moving with calculated grace as she turned back to face Michael, the blonde crouched at the side of the hole again. The gun was aimed at his face.
"You were the Boys' ghoul? David's ghoul?"
"You make it sound more intimate than it was." She snorted a laugh. "So I made sure no one came snooping around the cave. Made sure they had money from Max, taking care of all the odds and ends that only happen during the day. It wasn't glamorous work."
"Was Star supposed to be a ghoul?"
"No." The blonde shook her head. "Too pretty. Not enough smarts where she needed to have them. Smart enough to snare and entangle you in this mess, sure, but not bright enough to realize not everyone was snuffed out. Or she really just loves a long con game, can't really tell which it is with her."
Michael growled.
"Keep digging. I can see the edge of a trash bag." Michael picked up the shovel and continued. "Star, like all the rest of us, we were all Max's pet project. Saving runaways, sheltering us under his wings, helping us become better then we'd been. From trash to thriving, not just surviving."
"The Boys…"
"Were his ultimate success. Four full vampires to do his bidding. Keep Santa Carla small, under his thumb, his seat of power. His mistake was picking teenage boys. Girls are a lot more mature, even at that age, and understand the concept of 'consequences'. Teen boys, eh, not so much concerned about that kind of thing. "
"Where were you when all this happened?"
"Elsewhere." The blonde shrugged. "Max decided in order to get to Lucy he needed a proper carrot, a nice juicy worm on the hook. I refused to be that kind of pathetic patsy. Don't have the temperament to be a simpering twit who bats her long lashes and spreads her legs to try and get her hooks in you."
Michael threw a shovelful of dirt at the blonde. She dodged most of it.
"As I was saying, I wouldn't suit the part. I'm not your type, anyway."
"What, were you David's type?"
He could feel the coldness in the stare she gave him. "I wasn't involved with any of the Boys. It's just smart policy not to sleep with who you work for."
"You're avoiding my question."
"David only ever loved David." The blonde brushed some dirt off her jacket. "But you, you killed him." There was a hint of emotion in her voice.
"Yes, David's dead! I get revenging them but what is the point of this? Why am I digging up the hole?!" Michael yelled, slamming the end of the shovel into the ground. It sank into one of the black plastic trash bags, slicing it open. A foul smell wafted out, making Michael gag.
"Start handing those up." The blonde directed. Michael gagged more but compiled, using the shovel to brush off the dirt as the bags became more and more visible. The one the shovel had sliced into contained a part of Dwayne, which explained the smell.
It took ten minutes before the six trash bags were out of the hole and arranged in a group on the topsoil. Four held Dwayne; two to hold all of Paul's bones. The rolled up carpet sat at the bottom of the hole, pillowed underneath by the thirty-seven vacuum bags that covered the floor. It was a disturbingly modern interpretation of an Egyptian tomb.
"Are those… vacuum canister bags?"
"Max." Michael explained.
"Oh. Not much left, huh."
"You don't seem that upset about his demise." The dark-haired human teenager noted.
The blonde shrugged. "We didn't always see eye to eye. He thought a mothering-type would fix the Boys, regain control he'd lost over them. Which meant you lot would be tagging along to make us all one happy family. Some of us didn't agree with that plan."
Michael remembered that David had instructed Star to make him her first kill, the final step to becoming a vampire. Max had said that his plan had been to get Michael and Sam into the fold, to make it easier for Lucy to join him. Apparently Max hadn't taken into account some others' feelings on the matter.
"Where's Maria?"
"Busy, holding down the fort, continuing to manage and run the video store in Max's prolonged absence."
"But people are gonna realize he's dead, sooner or later."
"Why would they? He was opening a second store in Los Gatos; it was common knowledge. He was wealthy. It would be perfectly reasonable to believe he took a long vacation as a well-deserved rest. Most of Santa Carla doesn't ask deep questions about stuff, if you haven't noticed."
Michael wedged his foot between some of the vacuum bags. "I can't lift this out alone."
"And I'm not stupid enough to put the gun down and help you, so we're at an impasse, Michael." The blonde grinned. "Better figure it out."