Author's note: So I try to make it a habit of-y'know, maybe waiting until I finish a story before I start posting the chapters. I'm still working on this one, but I just couldn't resist sharing just one more a little early. Yes, there will definitely be some Frog antics coming soon.


"Hey," Michael called out, hands tucked firmly in his jacket pockets as he drew up alongside them, reminding himself to play it cool, trying his best to avoid asking the big question, 'where's Star?' He'd have gone back to the hotel first to check, but right now he wasn't entirely sure that was a good idea.

David was the first to turn his head, his lips twisted just slightly in the self-satisfied smile Michael was becoming familiar with. "If you're looking for Star, she's not here."

Michael immediately scowled, "I didn't-"

"Relax," David's smile grew even wider, "going to a party tonight. Wanna join us?"

"If it's anything like the other night, I think I'll sit this one out."

Paul snickered, passing a joint over to Dwayne, who in turn passed it to Marko while the silent trio watched their exchange. These guys had to be floating on a cloud right now. The strange looks they gave each other looked almost vicious.

"Suit yourself," David shrugged, "you're missing out."

"It's about to start," Dwayne reminded David quietly, drawing his own bike away from the railing.

"I'll catch up," David waved him off, directing his attention back to Michael, "so what's up?"

"Did you put something funny in that wine?" Michael decided to just come out with it, feeling a little stupid now that he'd voiced his concerns. Marko and Paul were drawing their bikes away from the railing now, too, leaving David alone just as Dwayne rode off to lead the way.

"Something funny?" David asked, in the most unconvincing display of innocent confusion the world had ever seen.

Michael rolled his eyes, sidling up against the railing and not-so-subtly flipping David off. Paul snickered, earning himself a punch in the shoulder from Marko before they both hopped on their bikes and sped off after Dwayne.

David's elbows were propped up on the railing as he leaned back with a laugh, "hey, we had fun, didn't we?" He slapped Michael on the shoulder, "you're one of us now. We kept an eye on you. Not like we would've let you jump off a bridge."

Michael flinched at the thought. He'd almost believed he'd actually done just that. "Just don't screw with me anymore, alright?"

"I'll do my best," David replied, not quite promising anything.

For a while, they just stood there, leaning against the railing and watching people on the boardwalk. It was an oddly comfortable silence. Michael wasn't quite so focused on thoughts about Star anymore, but instead on the curious looks of passersby cutting a wide swath around them. They weren't all curious. Some looked nervous, maybe even more. Others went out of their way to just avoid looking at David and Michael at all until they were well past them.

He saw a girl with cotton candy highlights and bright pink eyeshadow popping gum and playing with a coral necklace as she passed. His eyes followed the line of her fingers, and he couldn't help but notice how pale her neck was. Thin. If the guy on her arm hadn't noticed them at the very last second and steered her away, Michael could have reached out and brushed at her brightly-teased curls.

"People don't like you guys, do they?" Michael asked, not entirely surprised. These guys didn't have what you'd call a kids next door kind of vibe.

"We're not exactly boy scouts," David replied dryly, pulling out a flask hidden in one of his duster pockets.

"I think Sam's still got my old uniform in his closet if you want to try it out," Michael snarked, eyeing the flask. God knew what David was drinking now.

Taking a swig, David allowed himself a moment to savor the taste, closing his eyes and letting out a long, soft breath, "nah, I was never really into that 'do a good turn daily' bullshit."

Michael grinned, "you sure? I bet you help little old ladies cross the street all the time when nobody's looking."

David looked back at Michael with a thoughtful expression, "yeah, I guess you could say that." He re-capped his flask and tucked it under his coat, when something caught his attention. Michael didn't see anything interesting. Just a bunch of late night surfers walking into a burger shack, and a guy with huge shoulder pads and glasses-

"Is that guy watching you?" Michael asked, frowning. The guy was just standing there, peering back at them through bug-eyed lenses. "He looks pissed."

David casually looked back at Michael, slow and relaxed, "him? He's just a massive dick with nothing better to do. Probably thinks we stole something."

"Stole?" Michael prompted, not entirely surprised.

"Can't exactly live in the lap of luxury with a part time job, Michael," David replied, giving the guy watching them one last, long look before climbing onto his bike. "C'mon."

"I told you I didn't-"

"What? We're not going to the party. Just gonna give you the grand tour."

"Tour?" Michael asked doubtfully, looking out towards the beach. "It's sand. I've seen it."

David smirked, "the hotel, Michael. You only saw the first floor."

Considering this was the same guy who'd nearly gotten Michael killed driving to a cliff edge the night they met, and possibly drugged him too, he still wasn't completely convinced he wasn't about to be lead down another suicidal rabbit hole. Nor did he want to chance seeing Star tonight.

"You're not gonna back out on me, are you? C'mon, it'll be fun. No bats, I promise." David said, just on the verge of taunting.

Michael had never been very good at backing down. "Lead the way. I can handle it."

Once they left the boardwalk, with the roar of their bikes and the bite of cold wind snapping at his cheeks and neck, Star faded into yesterday. Just another flashing smile on a summer night. Maybe tomorrow he could forget about her altogether, when the salty ocean air washed away the fragrance of her perfume on his jacket.

Then again, that smell still hit him the second he stepped into the lobby with David, and it wasn't easy to pass her canopied bed without stopping to linger. He managed.

"Think I've got a flashlight somewhere around here," David remarked, kicking aside a rusted bed railing on one of the junk piles at the edge of the lobby. Twisted metal fingers and junkyard skeletons.

"How'd all this stuff get here?" Michael wondered aloud, nudging a discarded stiletto with his foot. Too small to be Star's.

"Trophies. Couple of wild parties. Kind of adds up," David replied with a shrug, only half-listening as he threw the sunshade of an old pram over his shoulder and knelt down to pick through a soggy cardboard box. Any second now Michael expected to see a nest of roaches or mice exploding from the mess David was sorting through, and the mental image of the spiky-haired blond flipping his shit made Michael burst into laughter.

Then, for just a second, he could almost swear he felt something hairy crawling on his shoulder, and the laughter quickly turned into a yelp as he tore off his jacket and threw it to the ground, stomping on-nothing. Just his jacket. "Sh…" he trailed off, trying to recover what little dignity he had when he noticed David had stopped digging through the box and was watching him now.

"You alright? Going crazy, Michael?"

Michael slowly knelt down to scoop up his jacket, which thankfully hadn't been damaged, "I'm good."

"Sure," David tossed him a bright red flashlight. "Batteries are pretty fresh, but give it a try."

"Don't you need one?" Michael raised an eyebrow, testing it out. "Surprised you don't have those oil drums all over the place."

David shrugged, "don't really need them. I've got a pocket light." He patted one of his coat pockets, climbing to his feet. "You ready?"

"You're sure this place is safe?"

"We've been here a long time," David walked ahead of him, leading Michael through a narrow passage, draped with a tattered curtain just barely hanging on the wall by a few delicate, wispy fibers. It sort of felt like he was stepping through the gates of hell, without the fire and demons bit. He couldn't see much beyond the back of David's coat, as narrow as the passage was, and soon it became so cramped that they had to crawl. Michael just barely managed to hold onto the flashlight. Why was he doing this again?

He couldn't smell Star's perfume anymore. Just earth, salt, and iron. His heart hammered in his chest, reminding him of the way he'd freaked out in the kitchen, and right now Michael almost believed Nanook really had bitten him. Funny how nightmares always seemed so much more real in the dark.

The enclosure was soon wide enough for them to walk standing up again, until David stopped at a somewhat steep drop-off built of earth and wooden scaffolding. Maybe the remnants of foundation, compacted enough by sheer luck for the pair to stand on. Michael looked around, flashing his light in the dark. Oddly enough, it didn't seem like he really needed the light, somehow he was easily picking up plenty of details in the dark. An old elevator grate was propped up against the wall in one area, while rusting pipes looked like they were drilled into the ceiling.

David watched Michael, a subtle smile playing on his lips, "this is the real clubhouse," he explained, "not even Star comes back here."

"It's, uh-" Michael tucked his hands into his jacket pockets, "I mean, I guess it's cool. Is this it?" He didn't know what he'd been expecting. Maybe something a little bit more impressive.

"Oh, there's more, I promise." He paused, growing suddenly serious. David's smile took on a more dangerous edge now, "this place is ours. It's a secret. Last guy who found it isn't looking too hot anymore." He put a hand on Michael's shoulder, "we like you, Michael. So keep this to yourself, alright?"

Michael nodded, a little confused at the sudden intensity in David's eyes. He'd lowered his flashlight entirely now and hadn't even noticed, "yeah. Sure."

"Great. Ready for the rest of the tour?" David pulled back and took a step to the very edge of the earthen drop-off. For a second it looked like he was going to just fall, but he didn't. Somehow.

"Yeah, it's getting weird now, but sure," Michael said, and shrugged it off like another twisted fucking joke. He was getting used to David's sense of humor.

It was late. Yet, every time Michael thought about turning back as they made their way through yet another narrow passage seemingly carved into the wall or supported by a few fallen beams with sheer luck, his curiosity got the better of him. It seemed like laughter was bouncing off of the walls, filtering through earth and old plaster.

"I think the boys are back," David remarked, offering a hand down to Michael from a ledge he'd climbed over with almost no effort at all. Hardly even broke a sweat.

Michael grunted, putting a foot on the wall for leverage as he hoisted himself up beside David, "short party."

David shrugged, sitting down on the ledge, "short and sweet." He dug into a coat pocket to pull out his flask and a crumpled cigarette pack. Without giving it a second thought, Michael took a swig of the flask when it was offered, and accepted a lit cigarette from David's gloved fingers.

Then he belatedly realized what he'd done, and silently cursed himself. It was the same strange wine from before that he tasted on his lips, warming his tongue. Lulling him and calming his nerves. His heart wasn't racing anymore. Michael just shrugged it away and took a pull from his cigarette.

"Is it just one long party with you guys?" Michael asked, setting his flashlight down beside him, the beam flickering slightly as it knocked against the earth, casting itself across their enclosure and into the darkness.

"Nah," David shook his head, recapping the flask, "sometimes we sleep. Once a week we get a lecture from 'dad', too."

Michael raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"Foster father," David said, unconvincingly, "something like that. Keeps the cops off our asses. He's got a stiffy for the 'good guy' schtick. Thinks we're his family. Something like that."

"Dads are overrated," Michael replied, "mine's a dick."

"Can't say mine was much better," David mused, flicking ashes from the edge of his cigarette, "my real old man. Asshole ditched me at a bar."

Michael looked at him, "that sucks."

"I caught up with him later. Talked it over, had a bite to eat. Got over it."

A banging sound followed by a loud crash caught their attention, but it was sort of hard to figure out where it came from. Pretty much just whispering in this place made their voices bounce right back at them from all sides. A guy could go crazy here.

"Ten to one that was Paul," David said, rolling his eyes and snuffing his cigarette off on the ground. "Better go check on him."

They were halfway back to the lobby and crawling through the first cramped alcove before Michael realized he'd left the flashlight behind, but he didn't really need it. He could see just fine, despite the dark. Kind of weird, but not the weirdest thing that had happened to him that week. His drug trip trumped this.

When they'd finally reached their destination, they were greeted by the sight of Marko and Dwayne, wild-eyed and snickering at Paul lying in a heap on top of what used to be the canopy to Star's bed and a broken surfboard.

David gave four slow claps, approaching the bed, "nice going."

"What happened?" Michael asked, joining them, still trying to wrap his brain around exactly what could have led to this spectacularly bizarre position Paul found himself in.

Marko recovered from his laughter just enough to manage a few words, "he was trying to surf-" he looked at Michael, "-off the top of the canopy. Didn't work out."

Michael looked down at Paul with new eyes, "the canopy? Really?" This guy had to be the dumbass. Every group had one.

Now David was laughing, clapping Michael on the shoulder, "Paul's a genius."

"Fuck you," Paul grumbled, and at least nothing else looked broken besides the furniture.

Left to wallow with his broken surfboard, bed, and pride, it was a good few minutes before Paul joined them all in the center of the lobby, where David parked himself in his wheelchair, kicking back and pulling out his flask to toss it at Dwayne, who caught it smoothly from his position on the edge of the fountain beside Michael. He unscrewed the lid and sniffed at it cautiously, giving Michael even more reason to believe he'd probably just blindly stumbled into another drug trip.

An oddly intense look passed between Dwayne and David, and even Marko looked solemn as he reclined on the couch waiting for Paul to stumble off of the wreckage of his surfboard stunt and drop down beside him.

Dwayne finally smirked, taking a swig of the flask and re-capping it, before tossing it to Marko, who did the same and passed it to Paul in turn.

"Am I missing something?" Michael finally spoke up, but not entirely uncomfortable. He'd had a little of the wine already, after all, and he could already feel it hit him. Yeah, wine didn't do that.

"Nah," Marko assured him, keeping his feet stubbornly parked just under Paul's rear, refusing to make more room for him on the couch, "it's just a new blend. First time trying it. Thought David was gonna wait a couple more weeks to test it out."

Michael frowned, "so what, it's like toilet wine?"

"Something better," David promised, "a hell of a lot stronger, too."


Two pinpricks of light cutting into hazy black. That's all she could really see now, fading in and out of consciousness with the swaying pine tree air freshener.

"I want you to know that I'm very sorry for this. In all fairness, though, you shouldn't have tried to rob me. A man works very hard to make an honest living. Runs a business. Cares for his children. He shouldn't have to deal with troublemakers like you, should he? No. He doesn't."

She was so tired. So cold. Could feel her hot pink crop top sticking to her skin with the crusting blood. Her blood.

"I have sons like you, young lady. Very disrespectful. I find it's best to take a firm hand sometimes. They've been lying to me an awful lot lately."

There was a long stretch of silence. Or maybe she was just sleeping. Dreaming. Too hard to think.

"I'll be adopting a few new ones, soon. I'm getting married. I believe one of those boys is a liar, too. I saw him tonight, right before you tried to cheat me. He was supposed to be home in bed. It's hard to be upset at him for wanting to get to know the other boys so soon, but I'm sure you don't want to hear the whole story."

The light was blinking out now. She felt like she was floating. Then pain. It was all over now.

When Max buried the girl in her shallow grave, he couldn't help but smile as he gave the earth one last final pat, admiring yet another addition to his rose garden. "Thank you for listening. I feel much better now. Tomorrow's a new day."


"Okay, he's not gonna do anything to you, Sam. He woulda chomped you already if he had, right? He's Mike. He's still Mike. So yeah, he's got death breath and coke nails, but he's pretty much the same." Sam had been psyching himself up from the moment Michael came home that morning without a word, right up to about now, just an hour after his stupid brother snuck out again behind mom's back. It was like something had control over him.

The Frogs told him the whole city was infested, so he was sure Max had to be one. That's why they'd set up this whole plan for tonight-which was pointless, because mom canceled on her dorky date. He'd seen the guy. Hadn't talked to him, but he'd definitely caught a glimpse. So, if Max was one, was he the same bloodsucker who got to Mike? Or did his brother just have really bad luck?

There was something very comforting about stalking his bedroom wrapped in a sheet, with Nanook keeping his eyes trained on the door. Sam made sure not to turn his back on the window. The stake under his sheet was gripped so tight in his hand, he couldn't feel his fingers anymore. Hopefully mom and grandpa didn't notice the missing chair. He'd hide the evidence in his closet if it weren't for those stupid freaky animals parked there. Just a couple, but more than enough to give him extra nightmares when he wasn't paranoid Mike was going to sneak into his room for a midnight snack.

Sam nearly jumped out of his skin when Nanook began barking. Then, between barks, he could swear he heard whispering. Didn't sound like Mike, mom, or grandpa. Oh crap, they'd come for him! His brother had gone full-on corpse, and they were coming for Sam next!

"Nanook, stop!" Sam hissed, biting back a whimper once he dove into bed and promptly wrapped a protective arm around his husky. Did vampires eat huskies? God, he hoped not. The fur would probably get in the way, so maybe they didn't.

The whispering stopped, and Nanook calmed down again, settling beside Sam with a gentle whine. So Sam spent the next five minutes looking between his bedroom door and his window with his stake at the ready, mumbling gibberish to himself about vampires and boogeymen. Somehow the dead animals in his closet didn't seem so scary anymore.

If he made it through to morning, Sam promised himself the first thing he'd do would be steal another chair and stockpile more stakes, and the second thing he'd do would be to throttle his brother for getting them in this mess in the first place. If he made it through. It was a big if.


They weren't far from the main beach, but nobody ever came out here. Not to this part. The stretch of sand curling just within reach of Hudson's bluff. All of them were high on the taste of David's blood. Even Michael, who's living heart still beat sluggishly in his chest. For the rest of them, that sound of his pulse beneath the echo of waves clawing at sand was enough to drive them all crazy. Lucky he was one of them. More or less. Even luckier that Dwayne, Paul, and Marko had dulled their edge of hunger earlier when they'd gorged on surf nazis and cheap, cold beer.

"Never gets old," David remarked, distant and relaxed. He'd shared his blood tonight. Not Max's. Dwayne watched their leader with a thoughtful eye, just long enough to catch a mischievous

half-smirk before he turned his attention to the others.

Marko was admiring several new trophies, torn scraps of fabric, patches he'd incorporate into his jacket later. They all had their collections. His was just more obvious.

"What are we gonna do?" Dwayne spoke up, reclining just out of reach of the surf.

"Tomorrow night?" Paul tacked on the obvious question. Max was going to find out. Drinking David's blood. Sharing it with Michael, and not the master vampire's own-he was going to be pissed. Not just pissed. It was an open challenge. Santa Carla didn't belong to Max anymore. Not for a long time. It belonged to them.