There were hangovers...and then there were divine punishments on such massive scales that men and women alike were forced to vow never to drink, or move, or think, or do anything again if it could just make the pain stop for a few minutes. Lucky Michael was unfortunately dealing with just that right about the fifth time Lucy had come into his room to wake him up, and decided enough was enough.
"I'm about to go to work, honey, and you've been in bed all day," she sighed, "are you feeling okay?"
He slung his pillow over his face and groaned, his response muffled and incoherent. Even he wasn't exactly sure what he'd said. The only time he'd even bothered to get up that day was to change his clothes and shove Nanook out of his room when the damn dog wouldn't stop licking his feet.
"You shouldn't have left your brother, I thought you were going to watch out for him last night." She said, crossing her arms over her chest.
He lowered his pillow just enough to look at her, "I got lost. He was gone when I tried to find him." It was a lie...a bad one. Mostly. He had gotten lost for about five minutes. "He's old enough to look after himself." Shit. Bad move. She was giving him the mom look now. Too late to cover his face with a pillow and pretend he didn't see it.
"Please, Michael, he's been...difficult, I don't need it from you too." She begged, she looked so disappointed in him and that hurt more than her being angry.
"Fine, fine…" He rolled over onto his side, facing her, "sorry. I'll watch him tonight, okay?" He didn't want to, god knew he didn't...felt like the walls of this house were already closing in on him right after he said it, but too late to back out now.
She nodded, giving him a small smile, "Thank you."
"Any time, mom," he closed his eyes for just a second. Somehow when he opened them, though, his room was dark...and mom was gone. So was the hangover. He threw himself out of bed, starving, and rushed downstairs to the kitchen. "Sam?" He called out when he'd gotten to the fridge.
He could hear music from the bathroom and horribly off key singing, that could only mean one thing: bath time. So he'd probably be going to bed soon, too...wouldn't notice if Michael just slipped out the backdoor and came back later. He'd promised mom, though…
"Shit," Michael cursed under his breath. Maybe grandpa could look after Sam...speak of the devil, the old man was striding into the kitchen humming to himself and dressed in what Michael could only assume was his best outfit. Not saying much.
"Going somewhere, grandpa?" He raised an eyebrow, opening the fridge and pulling out a carton of milk.
"Going to go visit the widow Johnson." He smiled widely, "Need to make a special delivery."
He smirked, "what'd you stuff for her...Mister Johnson?"
His smile fell and he refused to say anything else as he walked out the door.
Michael blinked several times. Had he really just said that? He drummed his fingers on the kitchen counter thoughtfully. Sam was still screeching upstairs, somehow getting so off key he was discovering pitches never before heard by the human ear. He flinched, rubbing his temples. He had to get out of here. Just for a bit. It wasn't that late, he'd be back before mom. Hopefully. He wasn't usually like this, didn't know why he felt like he needed to get out of the house...but tomorrow he'd stay home. Make up for breaking his promise to mom, and for ditching Sam the night before.
David leaned back in his wheelchair, arms crossed over his chest as he looked at Max, one eyebrow raised, as the elder vampire walked into his abode. Max never came here, maybe dumping Star and Laddie had been a bad idea.
"Boys," Max greeted them stoically, though he kept his eyes trained on the blonde, "I'd like a word, David." A casual dismissal of the others without so much as a wave. Given the power boiling beneath the surface of his nerdy facade, even as stupid as he was, they'd be even dumber to defy him right now. They weren't quite ready to take on Max just yet.
Dark looks passed amongst them, but at a nod from David, Dwayne, Marko, and Paul drifted out of the hotel quietly to leave the two alone.
"I lost two of my best suits thanks to you," Max narrowed his eyes, removing his glasses to polish them with a handkerchief he tore from his jacket pocket. "That's not why I'm here, though. Explain yourself and make it good. I've got two halflings in my house right now, and thanks to you I had to change my plans with your mother to spend the evening at work with her instead of sharing a pleasant supper as she deserves." It was no longer in the future tense, or an idea, as far as Max was concerned now.
"I have no idea what you're talking about with regards to the suits and as for Star and Laddie, they were more trouble than they were worth, especially with regards to Michael. You do want him turned, don't you?"
Max examined his glasses, tucking his handkerchief back in his pocket, "I don't see your concern, the two situations are completely unrelated. I also know your calling card, David, or do you know other arsonists in Santa Carla who leave beheaded humans at their crime scenes?"
"She was going to blow the whole thing, tell Michael to stay away, in fact, she did, but I managed to rectify the situation, once." He leaned back, waving his hand, "As for the arson, well, maybe Paul had something to do with it."
His face softened a little, "so you're making progress at least. Good. What about Samuel?" He replaced his glasses on his nose, though he didn't need them. They just completed the look he aimed for, the misguided combination of car salesman and clown.
"Haven't had a chance to deal with him yet, figured I'd get Michael first then the other."
"I don't feel any connection to him," Max sighed, "so you haven't given him the blood yet." It was a statement, not an inquiry. Speaking of Michael, he should have been here by now. If it weren't for Max, David would have already gone to find the boy himself. Yet another reason to be irritated at the head vampire.
"I would have had it taken care of tonight. Can't rush these things, want it done right, don't you?"
"I've never known you to practice any form of patience," Max sighed, "but it's nice to know you're finally gaining some level of maturity. Very well. I want it done soon, though. If it isn't dealt with, I'll take care of Samuel and Michael myself." He looked about the hotel with a disgusted sneer, "and do learn to clean up after yourself. It smells like a whorehouse in here." That being said, he spun on his heels and began to walk away, pausing only once at the exit to glance back at David, his vampiric form in full view, "don't defy me, David. Not on this. You will live to regret it." Then he was gone.
David snarled the moment he was gone, throwing a leftover beer bottle, listening to it shatter against the fountain, "Fucking bastard." He bit out, hissing between dropped fangs. This family bullshit was getting old. It had been old for decades. He needed to do something to burn off this anger. Where the fuck was Michael? He should've felt the pull by now, the instinct to join them once the sun went down. If this was the way it was going to be, fine, he'd go find Michael himself. Might even give him a little push in retaliation just to scare him for having to deal with Max.
Perimeters secured. Superman comics on lockdown. Garlic cloves in their sneakers. The Frog brothers were ready for yet another night of protecting Santa Carla from the ungrateful dead, and maybe making a little bit of money from selling some limited edition issues and model kits.
"You ready, Alan?" Edgar grunted, crossing his arms and intimidating each and every person who walked across the entrance to their store. Any one of them could be a bloodsucker. Especially grandma over there with her walker...the last one anybody would suspect. Anybody but Edgar and Alan Frog, that is. "Another night, another batch of unsuspecting tourists getting their throats ripped out…" He shook his head. "Good thing the city's got us." There was another weird one walking towards the store now, a dumb-looking jock with a mop of dark curls. "Get ready for it, Alan, this one could be nasty."
"Hey," the guy drew up towards Edgar, somehow unintimidated by his threatening demeanor, "my brother came in here last night...probably. You couldn't miss him, long coat, gelled hair...did he want to buy anything?"
"Yeah, he came in here." Alan eyed him wearily, "What's it to you?"
The guy scowled, "I'm in a hurry and I want to buy him something to read. Just give me a good comic, I've got about five bucks for it."
Edgar nodded at Alan to give his brother the cue, "there's a lot of stuff you probably don't know about Santa Carla, if you're Mr. Phoenix's brother…"
The guy raised an eyebrow, "I just want a comic, man."
Both of the Frog brothers closed in on either side of him, while Edgar dug out their trustee hunting manual and calling card, 'Vampires Everywhere' to shove at his chest. "Give this to Mr. Phoenix. He'll know what it's about. Our number's on the back. Pray that both of you never need to call us."
"Are you mental?" The guy demanded, looking down at the comic, "he hates this stuff. Don't you have anything with...I don't know, super heroes? I'm in a rush."
"Fine, but don't say we didn't warn you when you're a meal for the undead." Alan pulled out a Superman comic, "We will take no joy in finding your name up on the wall of missing victims because you didn't listen to us."
There was a pregnant pause before the guy fished out a crumpled five and passed it to Alan, slowly, like he expected one of the Frog brothers to snap at any moment. Maybe he wasn't so stupid...could sense their honed reflexes, the deadly skills of the inexperienced (but well-practiced) hunters. He also tried to give them the vampire comic too.
"Keep it," Ed advised, nodding to his brother. "You'll need it."
The guy rolled his eyes, tucking the comics both in one of his jacket pockets, "thanks."
By the time he was gone, something dawned on Edgar. "You think he's one of them? Trying to trick us?" He looked over at his brother with a suspicious frown.
"Nah, he's too stupid to be one of them, would have already tried to take us out by now. We're the only hope this city's got."
Michael cringed as he left the shop. There were dorks, and then there were mega dorks. Those guys were definitely way worse than both options. At least this would make up for ditching Sam, though. Even if it meant he wasn't going to be able to grab a bite to eat. Now he really regretted not having something before he left the house. Then again, he wasn't really sure what he wanted anyway. Red meat...maybe.
He hopped onto his bike. If he went home now, nobody would even know he'd left. Sam would have his dumb comics, too...and he wouldn't have to deal with the mom look again if she found out later. Just as he began to give the idea some serious thought, another much more intense one took root...the guys from last night...he could go hang out with them. Stay out a little later. From what little he remembered, it had been pretty fun. More than that, though...he almost felt like he needed to go back to the hotel. Honestly, he'd felt that way ever since he'd woken up, but now it was so much stronger.
Once he'd made his way a good distance from the lights of the boardwalk, a growing sense of unease began to build in the pit of his stomach. Something was wrong. Like it or not, he just didn't have time to go to the hotel tonight. He'd have to go home. Settling on a new path back to the main road, he didn't end up making it very far. In fact, when the night was at its darkest, and the fog had eaten up what little illumination there was from the stars...his bike gave up the ghost and died.
He cursed under his breath, leaning forward to prop his arms up on his bike handles and cover his face with his hands. "Not tonight," Michael groaned. Starving. Stuck in the middle of nowhere...he should've just stayed home.
It was a long time before he finally decided to climb off and start pushing his way back to town. God only knew when he'd get there. Maybe it was pure dumb luck or maybe it was fate but the first person he saw when he got to the boardwalk was David leaning up against a rail.
"Michael." He scowled slightly, "What'd you do to your bike?"
"It died," he replied flatly, just a bit on edge. After his trek back, his conversation with the comic book weirdos, his near starvation...he wasn't in the best mood. "I didn't do anything but ride it."
"Let me take a look."
Michael parked it and stepped away, "be my guest," he shrugged. As if David could do anything without tools. Or just the light of the boardwalk to see by. As long as it had taken him to walk back, more than half of the shops were already closed down for the night.
"I've got some tools back at my bike, come on, it's not far." He turned and started walking a little further down the boardwalk. Michael pushed his bike after him and followed, catching sight of Paul, Dwayne, and Marko up ahead already huddled around their own bikes and leering oddly at passersby. Another private joke he supposed he wasn't in on. The first thing David did was turn the key and to Michael's surprise it sprung to life.
"What the fuck?!" He exclaimed, glaring at his bike as if it, the inanimate object, had somehow betrayed him by making him look like an idiot. "I tried to start this stupid thing at least ten…" True, he'd never had problems with it before, but the fact that it just so happened to give out on him tonight as particularly frustrating.
Marko's eyes danced with mirth, "happens to everyone, Mikey. Can't always get it up and going, y'know?"
Well, this was humiliating. "Thanks, David," he mumbled reluctantly, choosing to ignore Marko's snide remark.
Dwayne cuffed Marko on the back of the head, "Don't be a dick, Marko."
Paul squinted oddly at Michael, that same funny smile he'd had last night when he'd...done something. Michael couldn't really remember much, but he definitely remembered the smile. "Hey, you hungry?"
"Starving," he admitted, killing his engine. He'd blame the trouble on the cold weather and leaving it alone too long when he went to grab Sam's stupid comics. His stomach seemed to roar to life at the thought of food. Probably because he'd spent the whole day sleeping off that wine. To David's credit, he still wouldn't mind having more, though the side effects were a little more than he thought he could handle.
It felt oddly natural to fall in step behind the others when David started to lead the way. Even if the looks people occasionally gave them, a mixture between curious and nervous, some downright terrified...kind of bugged him. He wasn't one of them. He was just hanging out.
"Sorry about the other night, here's the burger place, just kind of got caught up in the moment." David said, motioning toward the little restaurant.
"Not your fault," Michael shrugged, "I should've said something." He didn't add 'I'm the idiot who got drunk off my ass and forgot.' It went without saying.
Marko laughed, and Dwayne elbowed him in the side. Michael glanced back at the two curiously, wondering what that was all about. He seriously doubted he'd ever understand these guys.
Paul slumped down at one of the few clean tables, looking as if his mood had soured all of a sudden as he gave David a quick dirty look.
"Am I missing something?" Michael looked between all of them, fishing into his pocket for the last of his lawn money. Not much. Grandpa was a cheap old bastard.
"Put your money away, it's on me, and you're not missing anything, Paul is just an asshole." David glared at him.
"You sure? I'm not a mooch," Michael shook his head. He hated to be indebted to anyone. As for Paul's attitude, all he could really assume was that the rocker apparently didn't like burgers.
David nodded, "I'm sure."
"Two cokes and a bag of chips," Marko held up his fingers, placing an order with a saucy grin as he leaned up against the railing that surrounded the patio of the burger shack.
"You don't need two, Marko," Dwayne shook his head.
Paul crossed his arms, kicking a heel up onto the table and leaning back, "I want something else."
Michael sat down across from him, "just a burger and some fries." Not really what he wanted, but he couldn't think of anything else he was really craving. It was kind of annoying. Like a phantom itch he couldn't quite place. Honestly, he was surprised the place was even open this late at night, especially with the reputation Santa Carla apparently had for the whole murder capital thing. He honestly hoped the graffiti and his grandpa were just exaggerating, but he hadn't seen many storefronts without at least three posters of lost faces plastered to the windows.
Funny. David, Paul, Dwayne...even Marko...looked like they could conceivably even be responsible for a few of those missing people, but he seriously doubted it. He felt safe around them, for what it was worth.
David ordered some fries for himself and stole one of Marko's cokes since the little guy didn't need two no matter how much he thought he did, "Settling in alright, Michael?" He questioned, relaxing back in his seat.
He shrugged, "I'm living with Texas Chainsaw Grandpa, but it's alright. Still need to find a job," which he conceivably could have done if he hadn't slept all day.
Marko eyed the coke in David's grasp greedily, gulping at his own with loud slurps while simultaneously trying to snatch a fry from Dwayne's burger wrapper. He was slugged in the shoulder for his troubles and nearly dropped his one soda in the process.
David raised an eyebrow, "What's your grandpa like?" He prompted, growling when Marko tried to take a fry from him. Mom probably would've criticized their table manners, but Michael couldn't help a little smirk.
"He's alright. Freaky sense of humor. Stuffs bunnies and dogs for a living…" He was just about to scoop up a fry when he looked down and nearly gagged. Roaches were crawling all over them. He quickly shoved the container away, scattering bugs and potato scraps all over the table.
"Something wrong with your fries, Michael?" David asked, turning his gaze to the abandoned fries.
"They're fucking infested!" He exclaimed, pointing at them, but when he looked back down...there wasn't even one wriggling black body among the ruined food. "I…" Michael was bewildered, "they...they were…"
Paul snickered quietly, shoveling down a few of his own fries and tearing Marko's coke from his hand when he wasn't looking. Marko didn't seem to care much, too busy hiding his smile.
Now he was doubting himself, maybe he'd...he didn't know what he'd seen. "Never mind," he sighed, scooping up his burger and beginning to unpeel the wrapper, embarrassed.
David pulled out his flask, offering it over, "Looks like you need a drink."
Given the night before, it was dumb idea. He knew it'd be stupid to have any more of that wine, but...well...he hadn't gotten a coke, and...god, his mouth was watering just thinking about it. He reached out to take the flask, "thanks." The metal was cool in his hand, and he could almost swear he smelt the wine through the sealed lid...which was impossible. Burger already forgotten, he set it down on the table and eagerly unscrewed the top of the flask to take a long swig. Couldn't have stopped himself even if he'd wanted. This was what he'd been craving. Even better than the night before…
"Hey, Michael, want to see a great view?"
He slowly lowered the flask, already floating on that pleasant buzz from the night before, "where?"
"Train tracks, there's a great spot not too far away." David grinned, watching him take another drink.
When he fell into bed, hazily Michael wondered if he'd been dreaming or flying...but like the fog that consumed them in their wild path, the memory of it all disappeared with the dawn of a new day.
Maybe Mike was freebasing. Or mainlining lighter fluid. It'd explain the bad breath, anyway. Already 3, a lecture from mom, a weird speech about glass eyeballs from grandpa, and the asshole still wouldn't get out of bed. Well, since he was out cold now was a chance to go through his stuff.
Was he seriously still wearing his jacket? Did he pull another window-climbing stunt last night, too?! He grumbled, maybe he could wake him up and search his pockets at the same time. He couldn't help but hum softly as he dug through the pockets of that stupid leather jacket.
There was a soft groan, and then Mike's raspy whisper, "what're you doing?"
"Trying to wake you up, asshole, mom invited Max over for dinner tonight."
"...Who?" He rasped dumbly, reaching over to fumble for his sunglasses on his bedside table, "get offa me, Sam," Michael slapped his brother's hands away from his jacket pockets.
"Guy owns the video store mom's working at." His fingers ran over paper, wait, a comic! He was hiding a comic in his coat. Before Michael could shove him away he managed to pull it out, "Mike! I didn't know you liked comics, since when?"
If he could see his eyes through the stupid shades, Michael would probably have been rolling them as he attempted somewhat sluggishly to prop himself up on his elbows. "Got it for you, dork…" He frowned, patting the same pocket Sam had found the illustrated treasure, "thought...thought I got two…"
Sam was off in his own little world as he started looking through the comic, "Dude, I don't have this one either! Thanks, Mike!"
"Yeah…" He mumbled, falling back in bed and slinging one arm over his face, "what time is it?" He licked his lips as he tried to clear his throat.
"Five, gotta get ready for dinner."
"Mmh…" He lowered his arm slightly, "why? Mom making something special?" They didn't generally sit at the table as a family much. Most dinners tended to be pretty quick, small affairs, even back in Phoenix with dad. Not that he was home much anyway.
"I told you, she's having some guy come over, gonna have spaghetti." He lowered his comic, "Are you even listening? What's up with you?"
For a second, it was like Michael just dazed out staring back up at him, or maybe even fell asleep. It was...kinda creepy. "...Think I ate some bad fries last night. Feel funny."
"Dude, need to go to the doctor? Like, funny how?" He prompted, "Maybe if you're sick dinner can be canceled."
"Nah," he slowly sat up, slinging a leg over the side of his bed with what looked like a Herculean effort, "going out tonight. Don't wait up." Seriously, he looked half-dead, and he was going to try to ride his bike? Something was definitely wrong with his brother.
"Mom wants you here for dinner." He scowled, "Where're you going, anyway?"
"Out," he yawned, finally managing to stand up and lumber across his bedroom, "what'd she say?" He lingered in the doorway, tensing up a little. The fact that he didn't remember anything that morning when mom had actually stood over him in bed telling him exactly why she was upset about his breaking his promise to her was bad enough. If he went out again tonight, Sam knew he'd be dragged into it too for not stopping him.
"That she wants you at dinner tonight, meet her boyfriend. Y'know, the guy I just told you about twice already? She doesn't want you sleeping all day either."
He grumbled, "little late for that," but his shoulders slackened a little, "alright. Fine, I'll stay home." He stalked down the hall towards the bathroom just as Nanook pelted through the door towards Sam with a slobbery tennis ball in his mouth, "Get the dog out of my room, Sam!" Michael called out, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Not long after, the sound of running bathwater seemed to signal the end of their conversation.
"Hey, Nanook...you think aliens took Mike's brain?" Sam knelt beside his dog, setting his comic aside to avoid getting any drool on it while he yanked at the tennis ball in Nanook's mouth. The husky whined back, namely to play.
"Yeah, you're right, I bet he lost it way before any aliens showed up," he snickered. "Maybe grandpa hid it in one of those dumb jackalope heads? Looks like it'd probably fit."
Thorn was in good spirits tonight. Why wouldn't he? The hellhound was enjoying the largest meal he'd been fortunate to get his claws on in over a decade, thanks to Star's willfulness in trying to let her intended victim out of the basement. Bright red spots flecked his fur and the white carpet he was parked on, while he continuously munched on a very large bone.
"We are going to dinner tonight with your new family, you will be on your best behavior. We want to make a good impression, don't we?"
She remained thoroughly despondent, petting Laddie's hair, plucking at her skirt...a skirt which she had still yet to change in the short time she'd been here. Frustratingly silent. Passive. He would blame it on the hunger. The boy didn't even look at him. His wandering eyes generally just appeared to see through everything, always searching for something he couldn't find. This was sadly what came of not having a mother in the house.
"Get cleaned up so we can go." He ordered when he didn't receive a response. Thorn yawned and made a move to follow him, snapping up the femur he'd been preoccupied gnawing on.
"I'm not going," Star informed him.
"Oh, yes you are, young lady." He said sternly, "There is no way for you to get out of this." One more expectant growl, and having put Thorn back in his place, miraculously, they seemed to be leaving. The drive was an uneventful, tense affair. He could smell the dirt and sweat still clinging to the lace of her shirt. Still no bath in the girl's foreseeable future, apparently.
It was Samuel who answered the door, the pouting gatekeeper to his family's humble abode. "Mom," he threw back over his shoulder, "Max is here and he's got a posse!"
There was an older man leering towards them from a crack in one of the doors inside, slivers of red light peeking out while Sam waited for a response from Lucy, "Sam! Don't be rude!" She shouted from the kitchen.
He turned back to glower at Max, hardly sparing another glance for Star and Laddie behind him. "She's in the kitchen." He noticed the bundle of flowers in Max's grasp, and wrinkled his nose. This was clearly not a boy fond of anyone getting within six feet of his mother unless they were delivering mail. Unless someone intervened or endeavored to break the silence, it may very well last for the rest of the night.
"Sam! Go help mom!" Michael shouted from upstairs. It couldn't be anyone else. She only had two sons, after all.
Sam turned reluctantly back to face Max, "alright...well...I guess come in." He stepped back and stalked away from the foyer, right about the same time Michael slowly started trailing downstairs. Max somehow managed to maintain his polite and unaffected exterior, even though it wasn't his blood he smelled running through the boy's veins.
Michael paused mid-step, staring in his direction, just past his shoulder at Star.
"Star?" He practically blurted out, perhaps even more surprised than Max was right now.
"Oh, Max!" Lucy appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hand with a kitchen towel, "this is Michael, Michael this is Max…" She looked over at Star and Laddie, "these are the kids you were telling me about? I'm glad I made extra."
Perhaps he could still control Michael through Star even though it was David's blood. He would be needing to deal with David of course, this was completely uncalled for, he deserved to be punished. It was most certainly the final straw for the boy.
There was a soft click, and the door sealing off Lucy's father from the rest of the company was effectively closed for the night. Odd man.
Michael made a move for the door, when Lucy gave him a quick, short shake of her head. He didn't so much as say a word, and instead led the way into the dining room.
"I hope it's not bad luck to see the meal before dinner," Max remarked as he edged into the kitchen with Lucy.
"Ah," she smiled sweetly. Such a brilliantly innocent, kind smile. "You're thinking of the groom not seeing the bride before the wedding." Delicately, she grabbed a wooden spoon and stirred one of the pots on the stove, bringing it back and gingerly tasting a sample of heavily seasoned tomato sauce. The basil was fragrant enough to seep into her pores. He smiled back at her, holding out the flowers he'd brought.
They wouldn't have a traditional romance. There wouldn't be the time for that...but with Lucy, Max knew he could whip his boys into shape. She was the one. Unlike so many before her who had no interest in parenthood or the eternity he had to offer her, this woman would not end up another missing person. Another body bundled up and tossed into the ocean. Another disappointment.
"I'm sorry about Sam, he's having a hard time with the move, so don't get too upset if he acts a little protective." She gathered a large serving dish to begin transferring pasta for the table, "could you help with the sauce, Max?" Her back was turned to him now, having set the flowers aside for the time being.
"Michael! Grab me the vase on the table, would you, sweetie?" She called out to her eldest son.
He seized that moment to do what must be done. It was a simple matter, hiding his face so that he could transform enough to draw a claw across his wrist, allowing a thick stream of dark blood to pour into the mixture. "It smells wonderful. Do you mind if I taste?" He inquired, not turning back to face Lucy, but instead allowing his features to return to their human guise.
"Go right ahead, tell me what you think!" She chirped, flattered that he was so excited about her cooking.
Snatching up the wooden spoon Lucy had placed over the top of the pot, Max quickly stirred until his blood had spread throughout, making the sauce only slightly darker...hardly detectable at all. He would have this done sooner rather than later. If you wanted something done right, you did it yourself. David had proved he wasn't quite up to the task, or even ensuring the proper feeding of a fledgling. Luckily Max would be there this time to guide them all.
Star stood in the kitchen door watching them both while Laddie clung to her skirt. Michael edged by both of them with a glass vase in his hand, and handed it to his mom, not once taking his eyes off of Star.
"Thank you, honey," Lucy kissed her eldest son's cheek and quickly separated the wrapper from the bouquet to align the flowers in the vase, "go ahead and take the noodles into the dining room. Sam should've already set the dishes by now…"
Slipping into the room with astonishing grace, Star grabbed the pot with the spaghetti sauce, "I'll help," she offered, her eyes focused on the kitchen floor while she put distance between herself and Max. She was probably feeling guilty for her poor behavior. Good. Well, this was turning out to be a very lovely evening.
So Max was her dad? Michael had a hard time believing that. He also had a hard time believing she was actually here tonight, the way she'd acted the last time he saw her. Like she was going to skip town or throw herself off a bridge just to get away from him. Now that mom had caught him in the act trying to sneak out just to avoid the awkwardness, he was going to have to spend dinner sitting across from her trying to figure out exactly why she was so crazy.
Sam flopped down into one of the chairs at the dining table, grinning up at his brother, "saw you making goo-goo eyes. Got the hots for the hippy, Mike?"
"Shut up, Sam," he snapped, putting the dish on the table and sitting down beside him...but not without giving his shoulder a good pinch. He didn't feel in the least guilty when his little brother yelped and punched him in the side. Hardly even felt it.
"They really are lovely, Max, thank you," Lucy gushed, carrying the vase of flowers into the dining room to place it in the center of the table. The little boy trailed after Max solemnly. Maybe he hit them or something...no way that kid had a happy home life.
Star was the last to show up, almost ceremoniously carrying the pot of sauce. He frowned, eyeing her suspiciously. She had the same crazy, almost empty look she'd had when she ditched him on the boardwalk.
"Star, honey, just bring that over here," Lucy indicated a spot on the table, and like a mechanical doll, the girl swiveled on her heel to face them all...her eyes trained on Max. The rest happened in slow motion. First the ladle smacked the ground, sending little drops of sauce flying around it. Then, the waterfall of basil, tomato, and pasta sauce poured out in a great fragrant mess. Lucy yelped in shock, grabbing Max's shoulder, when the pot itself finally fell from Star's hands and she jerked back up to stare directly into her father's eyes. Not defiantly...there wasn't any sort of challenge there. Just sort of...empty. As if she'd accepted whatever was about to happen.
"Holy shit!" Sam exclaimed.
"Sam!" Lucy scolded.
"STAR!" Max hissed with a disturbingly venomous tone. Daddy dearest showing his ugly face.
"...Wow…" Michael managed to add, not wanting to be the odd one out. She was crazier than he thought. Still pretty hot, but...wow...
No one really knew what to do. Star didn't apologize, or even explain herself. She'd definitely done it on purpose, that much was clear.
"Come on, Laddie," she held out her hand to the little boy, who hopped up out of his chair and quickly ran over to her to take her hand. "We're not hungry," she added, as if that would solve everything, before marching out of the dining room with her little brother in tow.
Max hadn't even placed his napkin on his lap, and he was tossing it back to the table, "I'm really very sorry about this, Lucy. I don't know what's gotten into her…" He removed his glasses, rubbing at his temples gently, "I'll clean it up. I…" He sighed. "I really don't know what to say."
She gave him a small smile, "It's alright, they're just acting out. It's understandable."
"Does this mean no cake tonight?" Sam snarked, jumping up from the table and rushing into the kitchen to grab a few towels.
It was probably just as well, even if he hated to see that shattered look on his mom's face. Michael really wasn't that hungry. "I'm gonna go...check on them...I guess," he said helplessly, standing up from the table.
Max took the towels from Sam, shaking his head in bewilderment still, "I really do apologize for this whole mess. I hope this doesn't color your opinion of me, Lucy." There was something really off about this guy. The fact that he didn't seem to care his daughter just went off the deep end and just let her walk off like that was a testament to it. Michael did not like him. He'd already had an uneasy feeling the minute Max walked into the house, like there was something really off about him...this only helped confirm it.
Star was outside on the front lawn, whispering something in Laddie's ear when Michael found her.
"Uh...what was that about?" He asked, a little wary, trying not to make any sudden moves as he approached. He didn't want to move too fast, just in case it set her off again or sent her tearing out into the dark like some frightened animal.
She looked up at him, "Michael…" She took a deep breath, "Have you drank any wine?" She asked softly, looking back toward the house, "I need to know."
Wine? "I mean, yeah, I guess. I'm more of a beer guy, though, but I think mom has some White Zinfandel in the fridge…" Was she drunk? Max must have seriously screwed these two up. Another good reason not to like the guy.
She shook her head, "No, I mean recently." She prompted, looking fearful.
He scratched his head, "I guess I had some a few times when I was hanging out with your friends. Why?" Where was she even going with this? Maybe they'd spiked it. That would explain the hangovers and the trippy dreams. Okay, so he just wouldn't go out and drink again. Problem solved. If Star's crazy behaviour was anything to judge by, maybe it'd be for the best. No telling what drugs she'd been pumping herself full of.
"It's blood, Michael." She just came out with it, blunt and to the point, "They made you drink blood." She sounded like she really believed it, too.
"Blood." He repeated the word with a disbelieving expression, not so sure whether he should be the one running away this time. "I guess that's why you dumped mom's spaghetti sauce all over the floor, too? Because you think it was blood?" Acid. She'd fried her brain with a monster dose of acid. If Lucy had bad luck with men, apparently Michael's problem was crazy women.
"Max put his blood in the sauce, he wants your family to be like him."
Christ. That poor kid. Probably had to take care of his older sister like a nanny. Michael looked at Laddie, frowning slightly, "uhuh, he wants us to be like him, is that right? Because he drinks blood? Do you drink blood too, Star?" He tried to keep the condescension out of his tone, it'd probably be a good idea to try to keep her as calm as possible.
She shook her head, "No! I don't want to be like him and I don't want you to be either!"
He tore his eyes away from Laddie, holding a hand out to her and trying to smile as reassuringly as he could, "just come back inside. Nobody's going to drink blood, okay? We'll probably have to order pizza now. I'm sorry you and your dad-"
"He's not my father." She bit out sharply before visibly deflating, "Of course you don't believe me but remember this when you're fighting to stay human, I tried to warn you."
Whether she was crazy or not, he felt bad. She needed help. "Yeah, I'll remember," he replied softly. "Do you wanna come back inside?"
Just as she was about to reply, her eyes snapped open wide and she spun about, searching the night for something he couldn't see, "they're watching," she whispered, shivering. "They're watching…"
Michael let out a sigh, "wh….Star, it's just us out here. Nobody's watching." Her paranoia must be contagious, he realised, unable to help squinting out into the dark. He could swear he felt eyes on them, taking in their every move. That was insane, though, absolutely batshit.
Paul was draped upside-down on the couch, boots crossed over the back, hair in a bleached heap below him while he screwed up his face and examined the gruesome drawings in front of him, lazily flipping pages and cackling every so often to break the silence. "Vampires everywhere," he snorted. The comic they'd filched from Michael's jacket was only half fact, the rest just...wrong. Very wrong.
"Paul's reading for once, I think I'm going to die of shock." David chuckled. Watching Michael the previous night had been interesting, especially when Star just came right out and said it. Honestly he was surprised she had the backbone to do it.
Paul flipped David the bird, "hey, what if we'd just let him keep it, huh? You think his little bro would've been smart enough to pick up on the hints?"
Dwayne shook his head, dropping down beside Paul and giving one of his feet a good enough shove to send him toppling to the ground.
"We going to crash that party tonight?" Marko grinned, stroking one of his overfed pigeons.
"We'll never know, will we? I for one don't plan on giving him the chance to figure it out. As for the party, damn right we are. Take Michael with us, get his first kill out of the way." Would he do it, though? David couldn't really be sure. Unless he forced the halfling's hand, the results tonight could be unpredictable.
There was a general air of glee, excitement. The others hadn't fed since the grungy Surf Nazi lovers on the boardwalk, which was a fairly small meal between them. The good mood did not last very long. Max was there. They could smell him. No mistaking the aura of old death and aqua velva. David narrowed his eyes, leaning forward, resting his elbows on his knees, focused on their entry, waiting for Max.
It was not his typical entry with the fatherly guise the head vampire was so fond of wearing. In fact, there was hardly any time to register exactly what happened, as Max swept into the hotel lobby snarling and grabbed David by his shirt collar to drag him into the air and suspend the blonde over one of the blazing oil barrels.
"What are you trying to do, David?" He demanded with a hiss, and shaking him a bit for good measure.
David growled lowly in response, "What do you mean, old man?" If he was going to get a beating he might as well earn it. He schooled his features into one of calm, he could still control this.
"Santa Carla is mine. All of you, every thing and one in this city belongs to ME! Did you think I wouldn't notice you pulling that little trick with your blood on Michael? That I would just let it slip by without a consequence?!" He drew back his lips in a ferocious grimace, a promise.
The boys below were ready to defend their leader, if need be, no matter the danger...their loyalty was to David first. It would only take a word. David bared his teeth in response, "Would have loved to if the bottle wasn't fucking empty because Star and Laddie have been using it to avoid feeding." A lie, Star would never be that smart.
Max slammed him against one of the cave walls, dislodging a good chunk of old plaster and sending it hurtling to the ground, "I'll do the rest myself," he ground out, "if you ever cross me again, David...you'll have more to deal with than just an extra unwanted sibling. Tomorrow, Laddie and Star will feed, and they'll be rejoining you boys where they belong. Understood?"
His clawed hands gripped at Max's, "We don't want them here." He bit out sharply.
He Enraged, Max slammed him against the wall again, ignoring the streaks of blood dripping from his hands where David's claws had embedded themselves. Fangs glittered for only a moment dripping with rancid saliva, before firmly being buried in David's neck. Only a few wrenching, tearing pulls, a few swallows of blood, while still more poured from his mouth as he pulled away. "Deal with it!" He growled, releasing his grip on David and slowly descending to the ground.
David snarled, eyes glowing gold with anger, refusing to touch the bleeding wound, glaring at him, his hands clenching into fists, drawing more blood. He needed to feed, one of the boys would have to bring home dinner.
Max smoothed out his tie, straightened his glasses, and plastered on his fake plastic smile once he'd returned to his human disguise. A stark contrast to David's blood dripping still from his mouth, spreading in a large red stain on his shirt. "Now, by this weekend, I should have your mother and brothers ready. I will expect all of you to join us for supper." He pretended not to see their hateful glares, or take note that all of the boys looked quite ready to kill him. "Good night, kids." The last word uttered in a patronising tone right before he swiftly departed, licking David's blood from his fingers.
The moment he was gone David felt it. Like something sliding into place, Michael had made his first kill and they had missed it all because of that pretentious asshole.
Dwayne bit into his own wrist and stepped forward to offer it to David when he reached the ground. There was no time for a proper hunt. Not anymore.
"Mom told you we're not keeping this stuff," Michael warned, crossing his arms and leaning against the door frame while he watched his little brother tear into the boxes. That afternoon, he'd been woken up to find out Max sent a new TV, VCR, and a shitload of tapes to their house as a weird overcompensating apology for Star. That's what the letter said, anyway. The asshole must really want to get into mom's pants.
He felt even worse tonight than he had the night before, couldn't keep any food down, thirsty for god only knew what, because he certainly hadn't figured it out; the last thing Michael wanted to do was fight with Sam about this. "Just put it all back in the boxes, alright?" He made a move to try to grab Sam's hand when Nanook gave a soft growl. The dog was acting funny tonight, too.
"What're you doing to my dog, asshole?" Sam jerked up from the cables and wires he'd been trying to decipher, seeming to register Michael for the first time.
"...wh...are you serious right now?" He scowled back at him, jerking off his sunglasses, "I didn't do anything, and he's acting like I'm about to punch you out!"
"Mmh," Sam shrugged, going back to his work. The desperation for MTV and the struggle for civilized entertainment again was real.
"Well, leave him alone." He grumbled, shoving a red plug into the VCR.
"I didn't…" Michael suddenly lurched forward, groaning as he tried to grab at a nearby couch arm to steady himself. His stomach felt like it was eating itself from the inside out. "F...fuck!" He exclaimed, closing his eyes and trying to count to ten. Suddenly, a deep, seething rage seemed to take over. He clenched his teeth, stumbling to the door. "I'm gonna go for a walk!" Michael bit out, terrified he was going to do something awful to his brother, and he didn't know why! The dog and the TV weren't that big a deal.
"Mike! What's wrong with you?!" He shouted after him, "Come on, man, it's just a TV! Mom's gonna be pissed you left!"
He didn't bother with so much as a second glance, slamming the door so hard behind him that the kitchen window rattled, and the bear in the entryway shuddered. His feet carried him forward, all the while Michael tried to fight with his temper, putting as much distance between himself and the house as possible. Every smell, every sound, every movement or snap of a twig under his sneakers seemed to make his brain throb in his skull, and his stomach twist even further.
Michael wasn't sure how long he walked or how far, before he saw her. A thin woman in a jogging suit with bright blonde hair and a hot pink sweatband, dance jogging to something on her Walkman, while a rat dog on a leash skittered after her, struggling to keep pace.
Get away…
His mouth wouldn't work, couldn't summon the words. Something was very wrong…
She could see him, now, too close to run. Too close for him not to...smell...something intoxicating. Not perfume, or salt air, something so much more…
She scowled slightly, starting to jog sideways, trying to put some space between them.
He tried to turn away, God how he tried. He wasn't in control anymore, though, something else was. Anger. Thirst…
The rat dog yapping and the sudden screams of the woman went unheard, when Michael lunged, dragging her into the air by some sheer force he wouldn't have understood even if he'd been aware of it. Teeth tore through skin and muscle, sharp nails...no...claws pierced her bony shoulders as she kicked and fruitlessly tried to push him away, while the rat dog below tried to leap and snap at his heels.
Then it was all over. A broken doll lying on the ground, a small dog whining and pawing at her arms...Michael stumbled blindly back to the house.
He felt an odd cold sensation wash down his spine, a sense of loss. Pain...a searing blade digging into his heart and carving something out. Something important; gone as quickly as it came. Michael felt no great sense of guilt or regret over the woman he'd just killed. She was food. Nothing more. Still, he was confused...and the confusion made him even angrier once he'd made his way back into the house.
The lights were off.
Sam was sleeping, cradling Nanook on the couch while some black and white movie played on the tv.
Michael stared down at his brother, still tasting the blood of the dead woman on his tongue. He slowly reached towards Sam's shoulder, claws dripping with blood...then he drew back with self-disgust. He was hungry, wanted even more, but…
...Sam was still his brother.
It didn't matter anyway, because...they were outside. He knew it. He felt it.
Michael withdrew his hand, slipping out of the living room and through the kitchen to snatch up a towel to dry his hands and face. There'd better be some fucking explanations. Star…
"Shit," he cursed, not sure whether it was at himself or something else, as he tossed the bloodied towel into the sink and stalked outside to the front yard.
David was waiting for him. He was looking worse for wear, blood was dried on his collar and throat. The others flanked him, all grinning, all waiting. Waiting for him to join them.
Michael narrowed his eyes suspiciously, looking at all of them until he settled on David, "what did you do to me?" He rasped.
He spread his hands, welcoming, "I changed you." He grinned, "Made you better."
"Better?!" The fuck did that even mean? Michael pressed his lips together in an attempt to smile, "is that right?" He slowly drew closer to them until he was within arm's reach of the smugly grinning blonde.
"You're one of us now, Michael." David said softly, "Never grow old, never die, party all night."
"Oh, okay, glad you cleared that up for me," he nodded, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.
Dwyane sighed, "A vampire, Michael, you're a vampire."
"Bloodsucker," Paul threw out.
"Undead nightstalker," Marko agreed, biting the thumb of his glove.
He took just a moment to absorb it all. Then, smile still plastered onto his face, Michael very happily decked David with all of the force he could muster. A blow that would've broken a normal man's jaw.
David growled lowly and rubbed his jaw, "That's one, one free hit. Anymore than that and I'm afraid I'm going to have to retaliate."
Michael glared back at him defiantly, though his temper seemed to have cooled considerably after he'd killed that woman. "Why?" He didn't ask for this. He was...he had been a decent guy. Not perfect, but not a murderer either.
"Because I see something in you." He paused, seeming to debate with himself, "Aside from that, to save you from Max."
"I don't…" Star had mentioned Max's blood before, said he wanted them all to be like him. "You drugged me with his blood to save me from him? That makes no goddamn sense!" This was only getting more confusing by the minute, and he didn't like it. Didn't like Max, didn't like the idea of being turned into a monster against his will. Not that he'd have agreed to it even if they told him beforehand.
David let out a snort. "Fuck, no, I gave you my blood."
"Mike?" Sam called out from the porch, groggy, "what're you doing out there?" He scowled, "mom'll be home soon."
Michael looked back at his brother, glad he'd cleaned his face, that he couldn't feel sharp claws digging into his clenched fists, or fangs biting into his lips, and even more grateful he was blocking Sam's view of David. "So what if I just go back inside and pretend none of this ever happened? Will Max try to get to them too?" He whispered, quiet enough that Sam couldn't hear him.
"Yes, he wants them to be his perfect little family. Thinks we're his kids and we need a mother." He rolled his eyes, "Wanted you to be his too but I saved you from that. Only way to stop him is to kill him." He paused, "Also, if you went back in there and played human you'd eat one of them or fry yourself when the sun comes out."
Not something he wanted to think about, those two choices. He let out a deep breath, suddenly exhausted with the whole thing. "So what now?"
"Now, you come with us, we go eat a party, and then head home."
Was it really that easy, to just drop everything, his whole life, his sense of humanity, everything, eat a bunch of innocent people he didn't even know? Michael searched himself for the little voice that guilted him over stealing an extra donut from his brother, or lying to a chick just to get a date...and apparently it wasn't there anymore. Honestly, he was still starving, and now that he knew what he was craving, well…how or why would he even fight it?
"Alright," Michael shrugged, stalking back to the garage for his bike. "Sam, tell mom I won't be back tonight!" Mom would be pissed, but better that than dinner.
David grinned, turning and heading back to the road where they left their bikes, tonight was shaping into a good night.
Dwayne hated Aerosmith. Anything was better than Dream On. Musical taste alone was enough to take out this party of surf nazis, even if he wasn't hungry after feeding David he would have been happy to off them. They were a sustainable resource, too...you killed two, four more would pop up next summer. Something about Santa Carla seemed to attract crime like flies to rotten fruit. Or moths to a bug zapper. In this case, drunken dumbfucks to a bonfire.
Marko was screeching with laughter and dragging one of his victims across said fire, charring the screaming man to a crisp before he towed him into the air to chow down. Sadistic little imp.
Paul was having a shouting competition with his own meal, seeing who could howl the loudest...the idiot had a fair lead, but he also wasn't bleeding out through a gaping wound in his stomach, either. Nor was he missing an arm.
David was, feasting, that was really the only way to describe what their leader was doing. His run in with Max had left him starving and he was glutting himself on two at once, switching between bleeding throats and growling at whoever came near him.
Michael...he just stood on the very edge of the beach clearing, leaning against a tree and silently watching. His hunger was readily apparent, face just as gruesomely drawn as the rest of them, but he stubbornly maintained his distance.
"Michael." David's voice was rough, "Come, feed."
His descent over the dunes was slow, reluctant. There was still a lot of anger, or maybe just irritation, brewing beneath the surface at all of them. Any idiot could see that. Wouldn't even so much as look at David as he drew towards one of a few Surf Nazis who'd tried to run first, knocked unconscious in the sand for easy pickings later. A large cut on the man's prickly shaven scalp bled out into the sand.
Paul and Marko had lost interest in the remains of their kills, and were quickly edging in behind Dwayne to try and get a few nips at his own victim. He growled, shouldering them away with a warning glare, so he didn't see when Michael finally dropped to his knees and fed. He did get to see when David finished his meals and made his way over to their newest, grinning down at him.
"Welcome to the pack."
"Star," Laddie whispered at the basement door, struggling to stay awake so he could unlock it at let her out. Max had trapped her down there, promised to kill her tonight if she didn't eat. "Star, are you awake?" He tried again, slowly struggling to pull the door open. He'd spent the last two hours trying to keep himself up long enough to stumble across the house to get to her. The dog was outside, so he was safe to move around. For now. Any minute something could happen, and Star wouldn't be the only one trapped downstairs…
"Laddie, you have to let me out." She said softly.
There was a metal bar across the door, heavy, almost immovable in his current state. "Star, I can't," he protested, on the verge of tears. "It won't move!"
"We have to kill him." She pressed against the door, "We have to before he wakes up."
"I don't know how," he protested, smacking his fists helplessly against the bar on the door. It was stuck. Max probably knew he'd try. "I'm sleepy," Laddie rubbed at his eyes, trying to keep them open. This was one of the toughest things he'd ever done. "I don't wanna be a vampire, Star. I just wanna go home."
"Laddie, listen to me, you have to listen. You need something sharp, something wood. You're going to have to drive it into his heart." She explained softly.
"I can't, Star!" He leaned his face against the door, "I'm not strong enough." He was getting so sleepy…
"Laddie, you have to, you must or we're both doomed, we'll be vampires." She pleaded, barely hiding a note of hysteria in her voice.
"No!" He nearly shouted, shaking his head and covering his face, sobbing and peeking through his fingers at the room around him. A kitchen. A table...a couple of wooden chairs. "S...Star…" Laddie pushed himself against the door to support himself. His legs felt like jelly. "I'm gonna try."
Each step he took seemed to pull him further back to sleep, but Laddie didn't let himself close his eyes. He couldn't let Star down. Didn't want to hurt people, or be like Dwayne, David, Marko, Paul...and definitely not Max. He wanted to grow up. He wanted to go to school. He wanted to go back to his family...if he fell asleep, Star was right. They'd be lost. Forever.
It wasn't easy to break the chair, no matter how hard he tried to slam it against the marble tile. Thorn was scratching at the front door now, yowling. The dog could probably tell he was gonna do something, wanted to stop him. Laddie could feel his heart hammering in his chest, splinters digging into his hands when he finally broke one of the legs off of the chair and practically crawled from the kitchen, down the hall, up the stairs...and very slowly, groggily, inched across the bright white carpet leading towards Max's bedroom.
He'd never been in there before...but something told him deep inside, that was where the devil slept. Honestly it wasn't hard to find him, sleeping in a bed which surprised the halfling, that wasn't how David and the others slept. He'd only seen them hanging once or twice, but it wasn't something you forgot.
Laddie took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet again, supporting himself against the wall to edge alongside it, get closer to the bed without waking him…
"Max?" He whispered, managing to finally make it to the bed, stumbling against the bedframe as he hefted up the broken chair leg.
He didn't stir, laying still and seemingly dead in the bed. In sleep, his face held none of the false 'kindness' he tried to show everyone, just that empty cruelty. A monster. A vampire.
Laddie hefted up the chair leg, bringing it down with all his might, screaming, when Max's eyes finally snapped open in agony. "YOU'RE NOT MY DAD!"
The vampire wailed, thrashing in his bed, for a brief moment he stilled and Laddie thought it was all over until he literally exploded in a mass of blood and fluids, coating the room and the newly human child by the bed. Thorn howled forlornly as everything seemed to settle and Star's relieved laughter came from the basement. Now all they had to do was get out of here.
Goodbye Santa Carla. Goodbye death. Goodbye Max.
He felt it long before he opened his eyes, and woke nearly an hour before the sun set. It felt like someone had torn something out of him, reached into his blood and pulled that foreign part of him that he associated with Max out. Somehow, Max was dead. The forced blood connection had been severed and that could only mean the other vampire had bit the big one. The question was, how, and what were they going to do now that he was gone?
The boys hadn't actually ever known Santa Carla without a head vampire. The last one was their sire, and it had been less than a week after his death that Max came in to take his place. Maybe it was time David stepped up. He was old enough now, didn't want someone else to come in and either wipe them out or bond them again. It was nice to think that he could have avoided the situation with Max altogether if he'd just been paying more attention when the former head vampire showed up in Santa Carla, but he'd been too young. No way he could have won that fight. Now though he was stronger, had his own child even. He could hold this city, especially with the help of his pack.
"Already awake, man? Sun's still out." Marko's voice sleepily cutting into his mind, the smaller vampire ever aware when someone else woke up first, but otherwise dead to the world when being lazy suited him.
"Max is dead." He replied.
Marko cracked open his eyes, blinking them several times to clear his vision, hands still clasped together across his chest, "how d'ya know?"
He dropped down from his perch, "I don't feel him anymore." He replied, "The whole blood bond thing, it's gone."
"Seriously?" Now he was really awake, even went so far as to unwrap his arms and give Paul beside him a good shake, "hey, wake up!"
Paul gave a start, nearly slipping from his perch before he managed to recover and grab at Dwayne's shoulder to steady himself, "huh? What?!" He looked around, half-awake and bewildered.
"Max is dead." David said aloud, arms crossed over his chest.
Dwayne yawned, drawing in a deep breath, a little bit less startled than Paul had been to be disturbed from his sleep, "always nice to wake up to good news. How?" He quickly unlatched his clawed feet from his perch and descended to the ground.
"Haven't figured that out yet, thinking we should go pay him a visit."
"If he's really dead, can I have the dog?!" Marko called down hopefully, loud enough to disturb dirt and bits of sand above him. Miraculously, Michael slept through it. He had a few years to go before he'd be able to even wake up this early before sunset.
David couldn't help but laugh, "We'll see, who knows if hellhounds die with their master anyway. Might just be a pile of bones." He looked up toward Michael, "Gotta wait for our new brother to wake up."
Paul unlatched his feet from his perch and dug them into Marko's chest to give himself a good kick off into the air, swooping down with an obnoxious laugh when he looked back to grin at the smaller vampire glaring after him.
"You ruined my best shirt!" Marko whined, jettisoning after him, and very nearly knocking Michael down in the process.
David grabbed Paul by the hair, tugging him to the ground, "Don't be an ass."
He grinned up at David, hair still in their leader's grip, "I'm not doing nothing. My feet slipped and Marko was in the way, that's all."
"Dick," Marko mumbled, landing beside him and giving Paul a good kick in the leg. "Gonna have to go shopping…"
"You'll live." Dwayne rolled his eyes.
"I bought my first bike in this shirt," Marko bemoaned, "I ate my first girlfriend!"
Paul managed to tug his hair out of David's hand, tenderly nursing some of the torn ends with a silent pout, while the others just glared at him. Marko would be bitching all night about his stupid shirt.
"Stole your first bike." David shot back, letting go of Paul.
"Hey, I paid the guy back, didn't I?" Marko smoothed back his hair, "ate his bitch of a wife. Did him a favor." Once Paul had climbed to his feet, Marko gave him a good shove, "you owe me, asshole."
Before they knew it, Paul and Marko were scuffling on the ground together in playful anger, getting dangerously close to a beam of light filtering through a crack at the edge of the chamber. This was a painful reminder why David avoided waking any of them before sunset. They were trapped together. Tended to make them a little stir crazy.
He sighed, "Hey, cut it the fuck out or I'll push you into the sun."
Before David could even make a move to break them up, Dwayne tackled him to the ground and was attempting to mercilessly noogie him. David snarled, thrashing in his grasp, grabbing him tightly, snapping at his hands.
Marko and Paul scrambled to their feet and dived right for the pair, effectively dogpiling and pinning David down in a flurry of snapping fangs and tearing fabric.
"I'm gonna go ahead and call this a win for me," Paul decided, having managed to wrestle his way to the top of the pile.
None of them expected David to surge up from the bottom of the pile and sink his fangs into the back of Paul's neck. The rocker yelped, trying to scratch at the ground to gain some purchase and get away, but it was pretty futile. A moment after he stilled David pulled back and licked his lips slowly.
"And who won?" He questioned.
"Paul did," Marko remarked, "you'd better bite him again, just for good measure."
Paul glared up at him, "shut up, Marko. David won. Won because he's a cheating asshole..."
"Holy fuck, are you always this loud?!" Michael shouted from above, rubbing his eyes groggily. The sun had finally set. Just barely.
"We've been up for an hour." David replied, brushing off his pants.
He didn't have an easy time of it, but after a few tries trying to unhook his claws from the perch, Michael managed to make it to the ground, albeit with a very shaky landing. "Do you always sleep like that?" He scowled at David, kneeling down to scoop up his discarded socks and sneakers.
"Yeah, always. Sleeping on your back is uncomfortable."
Michael looked a little dubious, but he kept his mouth shut. He'd probably have a lot more questions in the near future, and this really was the least of them.
Paul flung an arm around Michael, giving him a good shake, "ready to party, Mikey?"
"...What? I just woke up." He clearly wasn't in the mood to joke around this early, nor had he seemed to become any happier about his new undead lifestyle either. Probably would have been easier if Max hadn't fucked up their chance to help with his first kill. Fun or not, the first one was always tough. Worse if you did it alone. Even worse than that if you didn't even know it was going to happen
Max was gone, now, though...that was pretty much the last of his bullshit they'd ever have to deal with. Michael would get over it. Eventually.
"We're going to take a little drive, go see what happened to Max." David said, changing the subject.
The younger vampire's eyebrows shot up immediately, "something happened? When?"
"Last night, it's what woke me up."
"I'm getting a dog," Marko threw in helpfully.
"You're not bringing it home," Dwayne reminded him again, one more time for good measure, "it's probably dead, Marko."
"Doesn't stop Paul from dragging home leftovers," he snapped, crossing his arms stubbornly.
"Well, Paul is going to stop bringing home leftovers."
"Dude…" Michael wrinkled his nose in disgust, "you bring home dead people?! WHY?"
Paul shrugged, not even the least bit ashamed of himself, "sometimes I don't finish them all at once and I like to have a snack before bed. I don't see what the big deal is. Not like I bang them or anything."
"You like to leave them in poses around the caves, they smell, it's disgusting, you're done doing it." David decreed.
Paul and Marko both did their own silent pouts, all the way out to the hotel lobby, and even up until they reached their bikes outside. Michael eyed David dubiously, climbing onto his own, "is it always like this?"
"Which part?" He replied, "The pouting or acting like overgrown children?"
"Both." He glanced over at Paul and Marko, and finally Dwayne, at the ready between them just in case they decided to start another stupid scuffle.
David sighed, rolling his eyes, "Almost every night it's one or the other."
The uncomfortable look on his face seemed to say, 'so I'm stuck with these guys forever?' Frankly, so did his thoughts. But he tried to keep it to himself. Sooner or later he'd figure out it was impossible, but one step at a time. They had an eternity to teach him. Given his mood, bringing the topic up now to Michael probably wouldn't improve matters. Fuck Max for screwing this up.
He gave Michael a firm pat on the shoulder, "Come on, let's go see what the damage is." At least this would get his mind off it.
They rode like phantoms in the crisp night air, seeming to rise and fall with the fog, moving together as naturally as a force of nature. The heaviness of being under the head vampire's thumb seemed to have disappeared entirely, and all of them could feel it. Even Michael. It was another kind of high David hadn't felt since his true sire died. A high he'd never forgotten. Freedom. His true sire had been a good one, he'd been lucky, until Max.
David wasn't going to let that happen again. Santa Carla belonged to them. That old bastard was just a placeholder until David was strong enough. Well, 90 years...yeah, that was plenty of time. Now it was in his hands again and he wasn't going to let it go.
The first thing David noticed when they finally got to Max's place were scorch marks on the porch in the uncanny shape of a large dog. Well, that answered the first question, hellhounds bit the dust when their master did. Probably meant there was a shitload of work in making one, too. Marko wouldn't be bringing home one of his own any time soon.
Paul was the first to make his entrance, kicking the front door in with a dramatic flair. Nobody around anymore to tell him not to, or a demonic dog to tear a chunk out of his ass either. "Lucy, I'm home!" He shouted, sticking his nose up in the air and scenting it. "...I think we've got guests."
David tipped his head back, taking a deep breath before heading for the basement. Laddie was in front of the door and David took that moment to cross his arms over his chest and look down at him, "Well, well, hello Laddie."
The boy looked back at him, panicked, and pressed his back against the door with a whimper, "don't eat us!" He was covered in Max's dried guts, reeking of rot and old death. A pathetic human waif, who had somehow it seemed...managed to stake Max!
"Did you off him, kid?" David asked, raising an eyebrow before looking at the door, "Marko, unblock the door."
Marko gave David a 3-fingered salute, skipping towards the door and kneeling beside Laddie to effortlessly lift him into the air. The boy screeched in fear, before he was dropped in a heap a few feet away, and Marko happily lifted the bar.
Laddie scrambled to his feet, backing up against the wall, his eyes widening as he surveyed them all, lingering on Michael, before returning to David, "I...I...I did...I'm sorry!"
"Don't be sorry, you did us a favor, so now we're gonna do you one. We're gonna let you live." He crossed his arms over his chest.
"Don't kill Star, either," he whispered, huddling down into a crouch, quivering. What little bravery the boy had possessed that allowed him to kill Max had obviously disappeared in the face of four...no...five other vampires.
Once the door was yanked open, Star fell over in a heap at Marko's feet with a yelp, her swathes of dark hair clouding on the floor like dark mist. She slowly, nervously lifted her head to look up at her savior, to find Marko in all his vampiric glory, fangs dripping, waving down at her.
"Hey baby," he grinned. One word and she'd be a snack. She wasn't even half of what they were anymore. Just a human. Just a meal. But...she'd served her purpose today. Laddie very likely wouldn't have killed Max on his own without a push.
Michael grew tense and very nearly stepped forward, just in case Marko got the urge to chow down. There was still some sentiment on the fledgling's part for the girl he'd chased to his own death. A feeling that would likely linger for some time, if her life was cut short in light of recent events.
"I smell another meal down there, want to go take a bite, Michael? Thinking I should have a little talk with Star." He kept his eyes on her as he spoke.
Michael's eyes flitted back to David. He was hungry. They always were in the beginning. More than that, though, he didn't want Star dead. "Are you gonna-"
Star squeaked, covering her face in shock, looking over at Michael and then David when it finally dawned on her why he was there with them. One of them.
"I'm not gonna eat her and the others aren't either. Go, eat." He stated calmly. His voice has a soothing effect on Michael, calming him a little. The younger vampire didn't linger to reassure Star, as much as he'd have liked to. The meal was too much to deny, but he did try to offer a faint smile before he disappeared down into the dark. The screaming that followed was very short-lived. Music.
Star drew her knees close to herself, petrified. In an impulsive move, very likely reminiscent of what it took for him to kill Max, Laddie scrambled over to her and pressed his head into her shoulder to await whatever was about to happen.
"I'm feeling generous, you both get to live, under one condition," he held up a finger for emphasis, "you leave my city and never come back."
She tried to set her jaw stubbornly, to muster a sliver of the occasional bravery she demonstrated in the face of David, but Star was tired. Exhausted. She glanced behind her towards the basement steps, a desperately sad look in her eyes. Regret, perhaps. "Okay," she agreed slowly. "Laddie's parents live in Santa Carla, but...I'll find a way to help them leave." She paused, adding in a quieter voice, "I tried to help him." Not Laddie. Michael.
He raised an eyebrow, "He can stay, until he's old enough to go on his own." He smirked, "Michael didn't need your help then and he doesn't need it now."
She slowly stood up, keeping her eyes to the ground while she still held Laddie as close as possible, and remaining absolutely silent as they made their way out of the house. She was sure to creep along the edge of the room as far away from the boys as she could manage. Seventeen going on seventy.
"Shame to see her go," Dwayne drawled sarcastically, "life of the party."
David let out a snort, "Yeah, kept things going." He looked down the stairs, "No worries though, got a brand new life of the party eating his way through his meal."
It took Michael a week to work up the courage to go home and see his family. Let them know he was still alive. Make sure he'd been more than well-fed before he made the trip. The only thing he had to worry about now as he stood out on the front lawn was which excuse to go with. Did he need to get away for a bit, go back to Arizona? Or maybe he'd just found a job with free room and board so Lucy didn't have to worry about buying as much groceries anymore. A temporary loss of sanity? An infectious disease he needed to quarantine himself for?
Whatever story he was going to tell, the first step would be actively going to the front door. If he waited any longer, they'd probably think he was dead. It probably didn't help that he'd gone 'missing' right about the same time Max had. Didn't help that he felt kinda weird being alone for the first time since he'd killed. Being with the others felt safer. More natural. That should bother him, but it didn't.
"Mom?" Michael finally called out, pushing open the front door. It creaked, predictably enough, going further to announce his presence than his voice alone. "Sam? Grandpa?"
"In here, Michael," he heard the gravelly voice of the old man. He narrowed his eyes, not much liking the sound. Something was wrong. He had an inkling something major was about to change. Everything was changing. Too much. His home. His loyalties. His diet. Michael had hoped this small house packed with dead animals and the only humans in the world he didn't see as meals...he'd hoped it would stay the same. Not much chance of that, though, was there? Knowing what he was now, Michael realized, he, David, Marko, Dwayne, Paul...they would in essence always remain the same. Even if he hadn't asked for it, at least there was that.
"Grandpa?" Michael slipped into the kitchen. The old man was just sitting at the table in the dark, staring at a folded dish towel in front of him.
"How long have you been up?" Michael asked warily, sitting across from him. He could smell the crusted blood on the towel. The same one he'd used to wipe up the remains of his first meal from his face.
"Saw your bike comin' through the bedroom window. Lucy and Sam are sleepin', Michael. I think it's about time you tell me exactly what happened to you…" The old man narrowed his eyes, and behind them Michael caught a glimpse of that same odd intelligence he'd seen only once or twice when grandpa wasn't carving up bunnies or playing dead on the front porch. He couldn't lie to him. Grandpa would see right through it.
"I…" Michael licked his bottom lip, running a hand through his hair as all of his excuses evaporated into nothing, leaving him only with the harsh, ugly reality. He'd have to tell him everything, but...then what?
Well...shit…
