Hard to Believe
By: Sweetprincipale
Part I: A Semi-Sentient Van
The van was semi-sentient. It growled. It hummed. It sought out the fights that would bring energy to its human inhabitants. If the Rowdy Three and the Drummer were happy, the van was happy. If they were in danger, the van went faster, for humans in danger might mean the van would lose them, and become- horrors- just a soulless piece of metal again.
Right now, the humans were asleep and the van was feeling content. It was just the five once more. Their little Beast had returned to Wendimoor, now that Drummer knew how to work the portal through any body of water. Apparently, Beasts had mating seasons, and since Drik had politely but firmly declined to make any "puppies" with her, she had slapped him, kissed him on the cheek, and gleefully said she'd be back for a visit. Then she'd explained to Drummer that she wanted a proper mate, someone less drab than the bland mortals of Earth, someone colorful like her, able to climb vines, and recite Wendimoor woodsongs to woo her girlish heart. Now that the woods were peaceful again, perhaps the other Beasts would return, and she could start a family.
The van understood family.
The van understood family, as it rocked every now and again to put Vogel back to sleep from his perpetual restless dreams.
The van hummed a growling, engine lullaby, and then paused. Someone was restless. Not Vogel. And not just one human. Two.
Amanda opened her dark eyes wide in the blackness of the van. She and Martin were sleeping on the bench seats in the back. The boys were in a pile on the floor between them.
It would be nice to sleep in here without the boys. But with Martin. She loved the moments when they talked. She loved the moments when he smiled his crooked smile, the moments he broke into a war whoop howl before evil got its comeuppance. She loved- well, she loved all of them.
Her hips squirmed guiltily. She shouldn't have those thoughts about him. He was the best friend she'd ever had. When she was with Martin, she felt like the biggest badass in the world, the strongest, a goddess of power. She also felt like it was okay if she wasn't. If she was weak and writhing and crazy, that was okay, too. Martin and the others had liked her both ways.
With him, she felt equal. But they were not equal in one very important thing.
She had fallen in love with the man. He had not fallen in love with her.
Martin opened his blue eyes and stared at the torn panel of the van's wall. He could feel Amanda's wakefulness. He could feel every pulse of energy from her, but these throbs of energy were not pained, or happy. They weren't uncontrolled, like a pararibulitis attack, which were very rare now.
If the boys weren't lyin' in the middle of them, maybe he'd reach out and touch her shoulder. Say, "You okay, Drummer?"
But he couldn't do that at night, right now, in these conditions.
Amanda was the best thing that had ever happened to them. She'd been their savior, their meal, their helper, their friend, brought a gentleness to them which none of them had experienced in a very, very long time.
He pictured the pale pink pout, the deep dark eyes, the lustrous hair that still managed to look delicious even when dirty or tangled. She was beautiful. She leaned on him, and hugged him, and laughed on his shoulder.
He was a bad, rotten man, for wishing that the two of them could share something more. The one gentleness he'd never experienced. Was ashamed to say he hadn't experienced, even though, truth be told, none of the Rowdy Three had.
They didn't have to tell each other, they sort of knew, a side effect of shared feeding, shared living, mingling energies all the time. Ever since they were young boys ( which Vogel still was in many ways) they'd been trapped in institutions, or running and fighting to avoid going back into them. None of them had shared that particular "gentleness" that was making it hard to sleep.
Just plain making it hard.
He recalled a conversation he'd had long ago, an angry teenager who was sucking energy out of anything that riled him. Some Blackwing "counselor" was talking to him while he was strapped into a cell that would severely limit his energy feeding.
You'll kill a girl one day. You'll make her pretty heart flutter and she'll fall in love with you, and love… love is the most powerful energy, Martin. You'll get so hungry. You're a druggie, and energy is your crack. If you kiss her- you'll suck out her soul.
No! I've kissed plenty of girls! It had been a lie. He'd kissed a few. Nothing to do with love and all to do with daring and hormones.
Mmhm. Well… you know what comes after kissing, Martin. You wanna wake up on top of a dead woman? Huh? Brain sucked out of her, soul melting into the ether, while you're slurping down her energy?
He'd been silent. Even hormones didn't peep.
If she survived? What kind of mad, freak seed do you think you'd plant in a woman, son? You want to make a demon-child like you?
Martin punched the van hard, tears stinging his eyes, but not because of the pain in his hand. That didn't register.
Drummer might be able to handle his kiss. She might be able to handle … Of course she would. She was the most powerful woman he'd ever seen. He would rather die than hurt her. He'd die to help her. He wouldn't take her energy. Even if it must taste sweet when she was happy, in love, in pleasure, peaking, writhing underneath him, or on top of him. A million images hit his inner eye, making him throb all over.
Stop. That. At least ten years older than her. She can split the universe in half with her pinky.
But that's good. She could stop me if I was outta hand.
But 'Manda don't love you like that.
Even if you love her more than anything you've ever loved in your life.
The next morning, the van broke down in front of a three and a half star, moderately luxurious hotel with only two vacancies, on different ends of the hotel, same floor. No matter what Martin did to it, the van refused to give any indication of a problem.
"Van says it's tired! One plus one equals two! Two minus three is fine, and not even remotely negative!" Gripps muttered looking at the outdoor pool the hotel sported.
"Come on, Baby…" Martin stroked the hood. "Help us out."
The van sat still. It was indeed helping.
They would just find it hard to believe for the moment. Later, it'd all make sense.
To be continued…