Dwayne tossed one bottle of whiskey to Paul and handed the other, slight conciliatory tilt to his head, to David. He took it, weighed it in his hand, and asked, "Everything go well?"
"It was raining," Dwayne said, which meant both no and fuck you rolled into one. "We didn't see anyone important," was what he said out loud, knowing full well David wouldn't miss the subtext. David didn't miss much.
"Stopped to feed, I see," David said.
Dwayne glanced over at Cass. She'd set her bottles down, tossed the pink back-back onto her bed, and was wrestling off the soaked t-shirt. The liquor store manager still decorated the front, his blood obscenely staining the chalice a badly drawn Jesus was holding up. "Well," Dwayne said. "This is my blood you drink."
Paul almost choked. "Fuck," he said. "Warn a man, would you?"
Cass threw the shirt onto the floor and fished another one out then made a face before she put it on. "I'm so cold," she said. She slunk off toward the hot springs and, more than happy to wash away the fresh rain water, Dwayne followed her. By the time the others arrived, stolen liquor bottles in their hands, they'd both stripped down and lowered themselves into the water. The warmth soaked into him, sulphur smell and all.
"Party time," Marko said, and tipped the whiskey back into his mouth. He shook his head, let out a delighted yelp at the burn making its way down his throat, and passed the bottle to Dwayne. He took a long swallow himself. Alcohol was a kiss and a promise and one of the gifts of this life. He burned it off far too quickly to become an addict. He'd seen what happened to people who did. He'd tasted them too. Blood could be sour.
He passed the bottle to Cass. She took a cautious sip, then another, and, as Marko stripped down and flung himself into their spring with a splash, a third. Paul had his clothes off and was in the water a moment later. David, predictably, had stalked off to be elsewhere. Dwayne looked back toward the main room where the man liked to hold court. What was he planning? Maybe he was just wallowing in his solitude. Dramatics, thy name was vampire.
Paul's splash brought Dwayne back to the world he was in. Whatever games were brewing, life was here and meant to be lived now, which was something David ought to keep in mind. With hot water and stolen whiskey and friends, he indulged in every vice he could. Let tomorrow worry about its evils. The sun could bring the peace of death, they could sleep in their cavern, they could wake to feed again.
They did all those things. He did all those things. And when the sun went down and they stretched themselves back into their ever-dark world, David was already up, cigarette in hand. "It's cleared up," he said, nodding toward the sky.
Dwayne twisted his mouth as he looked out. The sunset had turned the sky into a brilliant red. It would be black soon, and dry, and they would go hunting. He expected another night of drearily baiting a trap that never attracted its prey, and it seemed like he would get it. At last, however, one of the Widow's vampires came up to Cass as she was tossing beanbags into a wooden frog's mouth, trying to win a stuffed animal. The girl leaned up against the counter, all insouciance and cheap jewelry.
Dwayne had positioned himself up in the shadows, a monster in a dark niche no one looked for, and he tried to stop his breathing so he could hear the conversation.
"You don't have to put up with them, you know," the girl said. It made Dwayne's hackles rise and he had to keep from letting out a snarl. This girl in her floral skirt and her stretchy top had a lot of nerve. He knew he should be pleased their various little shows had worked and that the Widow's fools had bought it all. Illogically, he wasn't. That anyone would think he was a thing Cass had to put up with made him angrier than he'd been in a long time.
Cass tilted her head to the side. From a distance, it made her look puzzled, and innocent. She looked like a little, lost waif. Squint a little, however, and her viciousness came into focus. Dwayne supposed he should be grateful the Widow Johnson's recruiter didn't have the wit to see past the obvious. "He told me I couldn't leave," she said. She was letting her voice hitch a little. "He said that once I had his blood, I was trapped."
Floral skirt girl shrugged. "You might be," she said. "People don't usually leave a pack without killing the head dog."
Cass wrapped her arms around herself. "He's⦠I don't know if I could do that," she said. "And where would I go?"
The girl put a hand on Cass' arm. It was probably supposed to be reassuring. Dwayne was surprised Cass could control herself enough not to tear the hand off on the spot. Paul didn't like to be touched. She didn't like to be touched. Only a fool went around manhandling vampires. They were not a friendly bunch, and they all had their reasons for choosing this life. Most of those reasons had violence behind them. Cass just dropped her head and played the submissive weakling. "You could come with us," the girl said. "It's a lot cleaner where we live, for one thing."
Cass trembled a little. It was so obvious Dwayne could see it from his perch, and he had to bite his tongue to remind himself she was acting. "Not with him there," she said. Those words rang true. "I came here to get away from him. I won't ever live with him again."
The girl laughed. It was a happy sound, charmed and excited to share a secret. "Is that all?" she asked dismissively.
"It isn't all," Cass said with sudden fierceness.
"No," the girl said. She still sounded delighted. "I mean, we're saving him for you. He's only half, you know, like you, and once you kill David and join us, drink the Widow's blood, he's to be your first meal."
It was a good lure. Dwayne had to admit that. And it probably wasn't even a trick. Given the choice between a pretty girl and a middle-aged holy roller, well, he knew how most vampires would choose. Fanatics got boring quickly, and when you had forever, you had to consider who you'd still like in seven years, or seventeen, or seventy.
"If I kill him," Cass said. She took a deep breath. "When I kill him," she corrected herself, "where do I find you."
"Oh," the girl said. "We'll find you."
Dwayne tensed, because this could go badly, but Cass shook her head. "Not good enough," she said. "You give me an address where you'll be. Where he'll be, or I'm not playing."
"Don't you trust me?" the girl asked.
That question was too stupid to even answer, and Cass looked at her rather than bothering to reply. The girl laughed again. God. If Dwayne had to live with a person who laughed every damn time she thought she was clever, he'd stake her in her sleep. "You're smarter than I thought," the girl said. "Widow said you might be clever. Your father, now he said ā"
"Step-father," Cass said. The girl looked confused and Cass repeated herself. "He's my step-father," she said. "My real father is dead."
That got her a, "Whatever," and a shrug, but the girl was also writing an address down, and she passed the piece of paper over to Cass who glanced at it far too quickly, then shoved it down in her pocket.
"I'll see you tomorrow night," Cass said. "I'll do it before the sun goes down, then be there."
The girl leaned forward and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "Sister," she said, then stepped back into the shadows at the side of the carnival game and melted away.
Cass walked away from the frog toss, her head down and her posture troubled until she reached the stairs to the beach. She almost ran down those, and all the way to the water too. Dwayne met her there, so cloaked in shadow no one could see them.
"She kissed me," Cass said.
"I saw."
"I want to wash my face in the hottest water that I can stand," she said. "She smelled like fried onions."
"Hot water we have," Dwayne said, and they did. They were barely in the confines of their lair when Cass tore off her clothes and flung herself back and down.
The springs weren't that hot, but she ducked herself under them again and again, until Paul grabbed her by one arm and hauled her up. "What the fuck?" he asked. Dwayne might have snarled at him, might have swung an arm back and hit him, but he could hear the concern in that. So could Cass, apparently, because she didn't shove him. She didn't even tell him to get his hands off her. She just sagged and began to cry.
A lifetime ago Dwayne had learned that tears didn't help. Tears got you hit, or mocked, or worse. You bottled that shit up, or paid for it. That kept him alive. That had gotten him here. It also left him helpless in the face of actual pain. It was why Laddie had nearly killed him. Why he didn't know what to do now.
Paul knew. He wrapped his arms around Cass and let her cry until the tears slowly turned to rage. "That bitch," she said when she finally pulled herself away from Paul and sank to her shoulders in the water. Her hair floated, snakes radiating out from her tear-stained face. "She thought I was so fucking stupid."
Paul glanced at Dwayne. He hadn't bothered to tell anyone what had happened when they got back. Too much trouble, really, when he'd have to repeat it all for David later. David, who was out doing god-knows-what. "One of the Widow Johnson's group made contact," he said.
"I'm to kill David," she said. "It'll solve all my problems."
"How the fuck would that help?" Marco asked. He'd watched the whole thing, as helpless in the face of tears as Dwayne. Crying women were dinner, not friends. Not sisters. Star hadn't been a crier, thank god. Or a sister, if it came to that.
"They think she's half," Dwayne said. It wasn't an unreasonable guess. If he'd seen her walking out in the rain, he'd have assumed the same thing. The Frog Brothers had, and they were a damn sight smarter than that girl on the boardwalk.
"Idiots," Marco said.
"Well, Star was," Paul said. "And Laddie."
Dwayne glared at him, and he turned away. Laddie was off limits. If he ever found Star, if she had the bad judgement to be alive and in his reach, he'd make her death slow for that alone. She'd probably told herself she was doing the right thing, saving the little boy from the big bad monsters. Cunty bitch. Whatever middle-class white girl nightmare had sent her to the boardwalk, had sent her into David's arms, it hadn't taught her that there were monsters far worse than vampires. And now that boy was back into the human world, back in some foster home where ā
Dwayne cut off that line of thought with the same discipline he'd used to survive his own childhood. He'd looked for Laddie. He'd look again. Maybe he'd show up, back on the boardwalk, looking for the things that made the nightmares run. Right now, they had other things to deal with. Fight the battle in front of you.
"I'm to kill David, then meet them," Cass said. "She gave me an address."
"I'm hard to kill," David said. He could move like shadows when he wanted to, emerging out of darkness as if he'd been there all the time. It was annoying. David quirked a brow up at Dwayne's expression, then crouched down. "I'll hold still for your first try if you like. Give you a shot." He smirked at her, sure she'd never cross him.
She splashed him.
Paul, Marco and Dwayne all froze. David squatted there, next to their hot spring, water dripping from his nose. It was undignified and unthinkable. "Bitch," he said.
"You said you'd hold still."
Unbelievably, David began to laugh. He stood up and pulled a bottle of something from his pocket, unscrewed the top, and tossed it to the side. He took one long swallow. "So I did."
"What about Daddy dearest?" Paul asked. He formed his fingers to a gun, pointed it at his head, and mimicked pulling the trigger.
"They're holding him for me so I can kill him," Cass said sourly. "Or so she says."
"You don't believe her?" David asked.
"Lying's a sin," Cass said.
They all stared at her and she shrugged. "You did say vampires do all the sins. I assumed that one was included."
"Oh, I think you'll get to kill him," David said. He looked as satisfied as a cat standing over a dead bird. "She might not plan on it, but things that go exactly the way you expect are so dull and we wouldn't want the widow's party to get boring."
"Murder livens things up," Paul said.
"Lying's a boring sin," Marco said. He reached his hand up and David passed the bottle down. "Gluttony I can enjoy, and fucking, but the only panties lying gets into a wad belong to good church going folk."
"Which I was," Cass pointed out.
"Was being the key word," Marco said. "Show us the tits, babe, and relax. Eat drink and be merry, for tomorrow they die."
Dwayne stretched out toward her, ready to give her whatever it was she needed. A steady hand. A fist in his brother's face. Instead, she took his fingers and cupped them under the curve of one breast. He weighed it casually, his eyes on Marco.
"Hey, they're all yours," he said. "I just like to look."
Water was running down the curve of Cass' breasts and hanging for a moment at the erect nipple before dripping off. The sulphur of the springs wasn't really to Dwayne's taste, but a quick grab with his free hand snagged one of the mini bottles left from an earlier party. He unscrewed the cap with his teeth, then poured the golden whiskey down over her skin. Cass gasped at the sudden stream of cold and Dwayne lowered his mouth to her nipple. This was better. This was much better.
And tomorrow people would die.
Not them. That wasn't fun. That wasn't how this game was played.
But people.
Assuming vampires counted as people.
. . . . . . . . . .
A/N ā Many thanks to breenieweenie for alpha reading!
