This chapter is dedicated to all of the people who stuck with this story, even after the obscenely long hiatus, but in particular, to one of my newest readers: Verbophobic. Thank you for taking the time to make me feel guilty enough to type faster. I'm having some horrible indecision when it comes to which of my crazy ideas to put it what chapter, and I'm deathly afraid of letting one of the boy slip out of character, but I'm going to pursue this thing to its end, or mine; whichever comes first. As you might've guessed by the beginning of each of my chapters, I am a quotes fanatic. When this story is through, I will cite the source of every quote I used, until then, Google. That being said, I hold the writer of the quote I used for this chapter in such high esteem, that I am not going to wait until the end to give her credit where credit is due. This chapter's quote comes from Santa Carla Sunset's "Original Lost Boys Survival Guide". It's laugh out loud funny, and entirely worth going over to her profile and reading if you haven't already. If you have read it, go and read it again, it's worth it. While you're at it, read her Changing Light series. It's what I read when I'm trying to inspire myself to keep going with this. I write for myself as much as you lot, but honestly, my own desires to finish this story really aren't enough to keep me going. It's you guys, your reviews, that make me want to put myself through this. Also, gonna start using those little line divider things. I'm totally digging them, but let me know if you guys hate 'em and I'll stop using 'em. Enjoy.

"12. If the town's 'Welcome to…' sign has 'Murder Capital of the World' graffito-tagged on the back of it, go back from whence you came. Chances are, it's there for a reason."

Chapter Fourteen

Missy knew that it didn't take much longer than a couple of minutes for the sun to slip below the horizon, but like waiting on a pot of water to boil, watching it made it seem a heck of a lot longer. Her grandmother used to say that waiting only makes the wait seem longer. As a child, not a lot or what her grandmother would tell her would make a lot of sense (how could you wait without waiting?), and to be honest, growing older hadn't made them any easier to understand. To this day she'd only managed to successfully decrypt about half of her grandmother's proverbial expressions, but the fact of sunsets was that although they were beautiful, they were about as interesting to watch as grass growing.

Missy knew that there were twenty-four hours in a day, twelve of them spent in light, and twelve in darkness. The night never seemed to last as long as the day, which, when you're a child, lying real still and quiet in your bed so the big man in red and white wouldn't know you were pretending (which, according to the lyrics, didn't make a lick of difference since he "sees you when you're sleeping" and "knows when you're awake"), was a wonderful thing. She could remember appreciating the seeming brevity of the night when she would lie awake in bed, hiding beneath her covers and trying not to think about how much the shadows on her walls looked like waves on the water, just waiting to sweep her under for good. The morning could never come soon enough then, but in a town like Santa Carla, that came alive after the sun went down, the moon couldn't rise quick enough to suit her liking.

But come the night did, taking its own sweet time as it was wont to do, and when the lights came on, it was easy to see why runaways were so attracted to Santa Carla. The boardwalk crawled with life in the day, people bustling about like bees in a hive, but night was when the town really shined. There were more children during the day than she could remember seeing on any evening she'd spent in Santa Carla, shuffling about with handfuls of cotton candy and faces covered in confectioner's sugar. She assumed that the lack of infantile presence at night had something to do with the alarming number of young faces on the missing persons board. She didn't blame the parents one bit. If her father could see what she was up to, staying out all night, shacking up with a pair of teenage boys who fancied themselves vampire hunters, and staying out all night with a bunch of rowdy bikers, who just so happened to be mind readers? He'd turn over in his grave.

Then he'd turn over a second time if he could see that she'd been sandwiched between two of said bikers (at a rock concert), pressed so close you couldn't fit a piece of saran wrap between them.

The memory came swift and vivid enough to bring red into her cheeks, and she rubbed her skin viciously, trying to force the color out of her face and back where it belonged.

Stupid.

Missy didn't know much about romance outside of what her classmates read aloud from their trashy dime novels. She didn't exactly believe that fictional literature was anything to go forming ideals on, but the other girls her age seemed to buy into it, and it wasn't like any of them had guy troubles. They had perfected blushing and swooning, and mastered heaving bosoms and fluttering eyelashes, but Missy wasn't going to make a fool out of herself, even if that was what it took to get a date. It wasn't like any of the boys attending her school were all that interesting anyway. A good lot of them were too cruel to people who didn't honestly deserve it -namely her- for her to be attracted to them. Besides, any book sporting a cover with a swarthy, bare-chested man in a loincloth and a ridiculously euphoric looking airhead swooning at his feet (as well as the title 'The Maiden's Lust', good lord.) shouldn't be taken all that seriously in the first place.

Furthermore, the author who thought that 'The Maiden's Lust' was a suitable title for a book, as well as the editor who allowed the god-awful thing to reach publication, should both be shot.

"I think I've read that one." Missy tried not to jump, but sand amplified sound as well as an old hardwood floor muffled it. It didn't help that Dwayne made about as much noise as a loaf of bread when he walked.

She glanced away from the rolling black waters of the Pacific, staring pointedly at the dark haired boy's dirty sneakers. She wished that she could think of something to say to him. She wanted a way to tell him how angry she was with him for getting Paul and Marko in trouble for letting their little secret slip, but she knew she'd be no good at speaking if she looked at him. Something about the way Dwayne looked at her made her tongue tie up tighter than a sailor's knot.

It had been an accident what happened with Paul and Marko, besides, and she'd made most of the deduction on her own. They'd assisted her, that's all. They hadn't done anything wrong.

"David sees it differently." Dwayne hadn't moved any closer than a foot from where she sat, folded onto the sand so she could feel it cooling through her jeans. He remained standing, and she found herself craning her neck to look up at him. Oh, but he was handsome. Dark everything, bare chest, and smoldering bedroom eyes. And that hair? Hand him a loincloth and they could reenact that trashy novel. She heard a sound she wasn't familiar with, and she realized that Dwayne was laughing at her. "That would make you the swooning airhead maiden, wouldn't it?"

Missy glared at him. "I didn't know you were funny."

The smile faded, and Dwayne didn't say anything as he lowered himself onto the sand beside her. Good Lord. He could make opening a jar of pickles look attractive. "I'm also sorry." He said after the interlude, and Missy made a pout. He wasn't supposed to apologize. It would be too easy to forgive him if he did that. It was too much work staying angry with him. "If it makes a difference," he went on to say. "David would have found out on his own, eventually. He's smart."

Missy didn't know what to say to that. She knew David was clever, and charismatic, and maybe even cruel. He scared her and he confused her.

"David has that effect on people."

Missy ignored that Dwayne had been blatantly reading her mind again and reached between them to retrieve her sneakers and socks. "Did he and Marko and Paul talk?"

"Yes." Dwayne watched her shake her socks, scattering the bits of sand that clung to them before pulling them on. She slipped her left foot into her left shoe and started to do the laces up.

"Did David send you here to "do me in"?" She pulled on her right shoe and tied it tight. "Make sure I wouldn't squeal?" Dwayne made a sound like a laugh and a snort.

"If that were the case, he would have come himself." That was…unsettling.

Her discomfort must have showed, because Dwayne reached over and draped his arm across her shoulders. "Relax." He told her, and Missy thought he was expecting a little much of her, all things considered.

"So, does that mean we're okay now? David's okay? With my knowing what I know, and all? I won't tell anyone." People thought she was crazy without her going out of her way to give them a reason to, she wasn't going to be going around bragging about telepathic bikers any time soon.

"Yeah, we're okay." Dwayne jostled her with the arm her had wrapped around her and gestured with his chin at the bright lights of the boardwalk in the distance. "You know, I think you still owe me a funnel cake."

Missy smiled. "I guess I do, huh?" Quicker than the time it took her mind to process what he was doing, Dwayne was on his feet, tugging her up like she was a rag doll instead of a hundred-something pound person. "Yeesh," she mumbled. "could I get a little gentleness here, please? I'm a girl, not a football." She brushed herself off, muttering an exasperated "Men." as she did. Dwayne didn't comment on that, securing an arm around her waist to help her across the treacherous sand before she could and she quoted "Hurt herself."

"I can walk just fine, you know." She huffed, swiping at her bangs and fixing the biker with a look that was meaner than a grizzly.

"I've seen very little evidence of that."

"Ass." She grumbled, adjusting her gait for the switch from sand to boardwalk, and trying to look a little less flustered by her close contact with the dark-eyed telepath. So far her plan to avoid the temptation the boys' presence presented, to avoid the boys themselves, was succeeding about as well as using a washcloth on Niagara Falls. So much for Operation Out of Sight, Out of Mind. She couldn't hope to forget about the boys just by pretending they weren't there.

A strange look passed over Dwayne's curiously impassive face, like a stone had been tossed into the placid waters that were his countenance, creating there a brief violent ripple of unhappiness.

Missy narrowed her eyes instantly. "Serves you right." She said.

"What's that?"

"You shouldn't eavesdrop, Dwayne, you never end up hearing anything good about yourself. Besides, your mind is supposed to be a safe place where you can think whatever you want without fear of consequences. Dreams and thoughts should be personal, Dwayne, and I know you guys can't really help being able to do what you can do, but can't you at least try to give people, me, a little privacy?" Dwayne kept them moving, and didn't remove his arm, and Missy felt her face getting a little hot. "Besides, I thought you guys had trouble telling a person's head voice and out loud voice apart if you listened in too much?"

Dwayne kind of smirked. "You think a lot, loudly. I couldn't resist."

Missy frowned. She had a loud mental voice? "You can't tune me out?"

Dwayne shrugged. "I could try, but being around you is a lot like being around Paul." Groan. "You project, just like he does. It's almost impossible not to pick up on it."

"I'll try to have less obnoxious thoughts."

Dwayne nodded a little, and she could see him glance at her out of the corner of her eye. "Why do you want to avoid us?"

Busted. "That's…a really big can of worms I don't really want to open, Dwayne."

"I'm curious. You wouldn't be if someone was avoiding you? You wouldn't want to know the reason why? How would you feel?"

Missy felt like telling him that she knew exactly what that felt like. She'd been avoided by people her whole life. Her mother. Her father, on occasion. Renee, naturally. Her teachers. Her classmates. She was practically a celebrity in Queen Anne, except more infamous than famous. She was "That Girl", the one people crossed the street to avoid. Just in case. People had walked on eggshells around her since she was a child, no one wanted to be on the receiving end when she finally snapped, just like her mother had.

"What about your mother?"

Missy felt like screaming. She ripped herself out of Dwayne's hold, whipping around to give him a hot glare. "I already told you to stop that."

"Maybe you should be a little more careful about what you think around us, Missy. You know what we can do." Dwayne's voice was low, and just a little menacing.

"What 'we', Dwayne? You hear yourself? You sound like a creep talking like that. And I can think whatever I like, it's my head."

"What did your mother do?"

"God, you're like a dog with a bone!" Missy hissed. "Just leave it, I don't want to talk about that with you, it's none of your business."

"I could take it right out of your head if I wanted to." Dwayne whispered, and Missy's whole body felt like it had been submerged in ice water.

"You can do that?" Her voice was trembling, and Dwayne's dark eyes scared her more than they ever had before.

"The listening in we usually do? It's like a reflex, we don't really put much effort into it, just filter through the thoughts sitting on top. We can pick our way through every thought you've ever had if we want to, dredge up every painful memory you've ever endured, every thing that's ever made your heart skip a beat and your blood turn cold." Dwayne took a step forward and Missy stumbled back to avoid him. "What do you say, Miss? Wanna found out what really scares you?"

"You do." Missy whispered. "This is exactly why I wanted to avoid you. I don't want this. I don't want to be scared, confused. I've got enough problems, more than I know how to deal with, and I don't need you and the rest of your crazy friends playing mind games with me." The stability of her mind was tentative enough as it was, and the thought of Dwayne or any of the boys poking around up there made her sick with fear. "You go from normal to psychopath in about three seconds flat, and I don't know how to deal with that. What do you want from me, Dwayne? You want me to be scared of you? Okay, you got it. I'm terrified. I'm so afraid of you, I have nightmares. You want to drive me crazy? Congratulations, there. Last night I had a dream about a woman who's been dead for seven years. I can still feel her grabbing me, Dwayne. How's that for crazy?"

Dwayne was silent. It was a good look for him, but it drove Missy crazy. She needed him to say something or she was going to end up going to jail for trying to strangle him to death. "I lied to you before." He said, at last, and Missy might've been relieved were it not for the admission.

"Lied? About what?"

"David did send me to make sure you wouldn't talk."

That…was unsettling. "What…what exactly did he say?"

"He told me to talk to you. Make sure you understood how much our secret means to us."

Missy swallowed, trying to wet her suddenly dry throat. "And what if-"

"I think the words you're looking for are "By any means necessary"."

Something occurred to Missy then, something that hadn't before. "…where are Marko and Paul?" One thing about the boys was more or less static, where one or more of the boys went, the others tended to follow. She'd only been alone with a single one of the boys on a couple of occasions.

Dwayne's eyes flashed, and his glare darkened. "Grounded."

"Grounded?" You grounded a child, you didn't ground an adult.

"They knew what they were doing," Dwayne said. "what David would do to them when he found out. They brought it on themselves."

"That's pretty cold coming from someone who's supposed to be their "brother"." Missy narrowed her eyes right back at him.

"I told them to leave it be. To forget about you. They didn't listen."

"Why would you tell them that?" Missy felt a little stupid for feeling hurt by what Dwayne had said, but that didn't change that she was.

"I don't want them getting too attached to you. We don't meet a lot of girls that end up sticking around, and I don't want them getting hurt when David says they can't see you anymore."

"God, what are you guys, a cult? David says 'Jump.' and you all say 'How high?'"

"You don't understand us, Missy, and that's good. The more you know about us, the more involved you become, the more dangerous it is for you. You're a nice person, so I'm going to make this really clear for you. David doesn't like it when people get too close, bad things happen to good people when David gets upset. So what you need to do to keep David nice and happy, is go back to the Frogs, pack your bags, and go back to Seattle."

"…I'm sorry, my train of thought just derailed. Did you just tell me to go back to Seattle?" Oh, if blood could boil.

"There's a reward, isn't there? One phone call, you'd be back in Seattle by this time tomorrow."

For a single moment, Missy wished that looks could kill. Dwayne would have been ashes just then. "Death first."

Dwayne took a step closer, and Missy was so furious that she couldn't begin to think of moving away. She stared at Dwayne with more hate in her eyes than she ever thought she could hold in her skinny body. She'd been angry with Renee before, hated her for tormenting her, hated the people in Queen Anne who made her feel like a freak, hated her mother for killing herself and trying to drown her, and hated her father for leaving her alone with Renee. She'd felt all kinds of hate, but the hate she felt for Dwayne, an almost perfect stranger, it frightened her. If he had any idea what life in Seattle was like for her, he wouldn't be so quick to want to send her back. "What's so bad in Seattle, Missy?"

"Go to hell."

"What are you willing to die for?"

Missy'd never wanted to hit anyone so much in her life, except perhaps for the couple of seconds before she'd walloped Renee with a vase. "Whatever your real reasons for doing this Dwayne, I don't care, but you better be willing to kill me when the time comes, 'cause I'll die before I let you make that phone call. I'm not going back to Seattle. Better off dead than with Renee."

"That so?" It was the last thing Missy need just then, but in the fashion of how things worked when you were having a really bad day, that last thing came along to push you over the edge, whether you wanted it to or not.

"I don't need this right now, David."

She didn't need to look to know where David was behind her, she could hear the bangles on Star's wrist jingling as she shifted beside him, nervous as a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. "David, you said-"

"Be quiet, Star." David didn't raise his voice, he didn't have to. Star whimpered so pitifully that Missy wanted to wallop him with a vase.

"Don't talk to her like that." Missy turned her back on Dwayne, madder than a hornet, to glare at David. Now, she was well aware that David hadn't done anything to get her so riled up, that had been all Dwayne; but David should have just kept his stupid, smug face out of her business with Dwayne. Really, she didn't know what she was going to do about Dwayne. He was bigger than her, stronger, without a doubt. If he wanted to call the police, he'd call them, and she'd be no more an obstacle to him than a flea was to a dog. "She's got a right to talk if she wants. It's not the Dark Ages, women are allowed to have opinions now, David."

David ignored that, smiling so calmly, you'd have thought she'd asked him about the weather. "You're awfully eager to shuffle free the mortal coil, Missy. Tell me, why the death wish?"

Missy jerked a thumb over her shoulder at Dwayne. "It wasn't any of his business, and it's none of yours."

"Might it have anything to do with the death of your parents?" Yowch, bulls-eye. "You were so young when your mother hanged herself, after all, and your father, how guilty you must have felt, asking him to go out on the errand that resulted in his death."

"Bastard!" Missy had lunged before her brain had the time to pull out the great big sign that said "DON'T DO IT, KID!" She couldn't see beyond the angry red haze that had fallen over her, and all she could think of was swinging at David's grinning mug until he couldn't see through a haze of his own red blood. As it turned out, Dwayne's reflexes were phenomenally better than her own, and his arms snaked around her waist before she could get more than a few inches closer to David. "Bastard!" The only way she could have looked more rabid would have been if she'd been foaming at the mouth.

"Calm down." Dwayne whispered in her ear, his voice breathy and urgent. "Right now. You don't want a fight with David, just relax. Come on, look at me." He held her still with one arm, grabbing her face with the hand of his free arm and turning her away from David. She could feel his fingers digging into her skin, hard enough to bruise, but all she could think about was what David had said.

"He was in my head." She hissed, both of her hands gripping the front of Dwayne's jacket, fisting the worn material.

"There's nothing you can do about it, you can't fight him. He'll kill you." Star was speaking in her ear then, and she felt one of the girl's hands on her back. "Dwayne, let's get her home." Missy wanted to argue that she couldn't go home because she and Edgar were still on non-speaking terms, but she didn't exactly know if they were speaking yet, she had been avoiding him all day, after all. "Your friend will be happy to see you. I'm sure he's been worried about you all day." Star was telling her, having hooked one arm through hers and begun to lead her away.

Star clearly did not know Edgar Frog.

Worried? About her? Ha. Worried about not getting to watch her meet her hideous end, perhaps. Worried about not getting to standing over her bloodless, bite-marked corpse and sing "I told you so"? Way more likely. She'd have to settle for coming back from the dead and haunting him every time he went to the bathroom. Maybe she'd go Poltergeist on his rare comics; dog-ear the pages and tear out important pages. Oh, she already felt better.

Alan almost dropped the change he was holding when he spotted her, his eyes going so wide the whites of his eyes stood out like beacons in his tan face. "Edgar!"

"What?" The gruff voice -too gruff for a kid Edgar's age- came back from the back room.

"Get out here!"

"Don't make a scene, please." Missy pleaded. "I don't want to fight with him right now, I just want to go upstairs."

"He feels really bad about what he said, Missy." Alan said, coming out from behind the register around the same time Missy could hear Edgar setting down whatever it was he was working on in the back. "Just let him apologize, it'll make you both feel better."

"I told you he'd be happy to see you." Star leaned forward to whisper happily in her ear, swaying at her side with an ear-to-ear smile on her face.

Oh, just shush, you. Missy glared at her, but stood still while Edgar shuffled out of the back room looking miserable. "Missy." He began, nodding at her.

"Edgar." She replied, folding her arms over her chest.

"Cut the monosyllabic bullshit and just tell you're sorry for being a jackass, Edgar." Alan folded his arms too, glaring at his brother and their tenant.

Edgar grunted and tossed her a bundle that had been wrapped in old newsprint. Why he had the old newsprint to begin with, she really wasn't sure, but she was a little intrigued by the gift nonetheless. "What he said."

"I'm touched." Missy replied as she slipped two fingers under the package's seam, ripping the old paper straight up the middle. She let the wrapping fall and what she ended up with was a folded piece of electric teal fabric. It was a tee-shirt. She held it up, and the words that glared up at her in hot pink letters made her laugh so hard she couldn't breathe.

Don't Hassle Me…I'm Local.

"Is she okay?" Star asked, looking wide-eyed at Edgar and Alan.

Edgar grunted. "It's a thing she does, she'll stop soon." Missy's whole face had turned an unattractive shade of red and she was relying solely on Dwayne's shoulder to remain upright. Edgar raised an eyebrow. "…or she'll pass out."

Missy knew it would take a couple of minutes before she would have enough air to thank Edgar properly, so instead she hugged him, and Alan, and then dragged Star up to her bedroom where they could talk in peace. Dwayne followed, standing in the far corner of her pastel colored bedroom and looking more out of place than a whale in the Smithsonian.

"I can't believe you live with them." Star had folded herself onto the foot of Missy's bed, tucking her feet up under her long, tiered skirt. "I mean, they seem nice and all, but they're kind of weird."

Missy snorted. "You live in a cave with four nocturnal bikers and a ten year old boy."

"…I see your point."

"Face it, Star, we live incredibly weird lives." Missy set her new shirt on the end table beside her bed and reclined against the headboard.

They passed a few moments together in silence, with Missy watching Dwayne make his way over to her bare, bare bookshelf, and Star looking like she had something she wanted to get off her chest. "Missy, I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for the things Dwayne said to you."

"Did I miss something?" Missy blinked twice, slowly. "Shouldn't the dark, shirtless one in the corner be doing the apologizing?" She gestured to Dwayne, who was leaning against the door that led to Edgar and Alan's room, leafing through her copy of Dorian Gray.

"He only did it because I told him to." That was a new one. "I didn't want you to end up like me so I asked him to say things to you that would make you not want to be around us anymore."

Missy knew she was missing something, but she also knew that if she asked, Star was just going to go "Oh, Missy, I can't tell you!" and look like a whipped puppy. Curse her for being so curious. "What do you mean by "end up like you", Star?"

Star affected a look like Missy had just slapped her. And three, two, one.

"Oh, Missy, I can't tell you."

Bingo.

"Right, Dwayne, can you tell me, or have you been sworn to secrecy as well?" Dwayne looked up from his book and leveled his gaze at her. "Right, secrecy, I get it. Want to do charades? Hangman? I could start guessing, if you'd like."

"You don't want to know, Missy." Star reached up and tucked a section of her curls behind her left ear. "It's safer if you don't."

"Right, that makes a whole lot of sens-Dwayne, put the money back." Dwayne didn't look the least bit self-conscious standing there holding her copy of Wilde in one hand and her hidden stash of money in the other.

"There's a lot here, you have a job?" Missy pointed at the bookshelf and Dwayne set the money back down. Missy made a mental note to count it later.

"I help out in the shop sometimes." She neglected to mention that Edgar and Alan never paid her for working in the store, since that was part of their agreement in making her rent so low.

Dwayne set the book back down and turned to face her, looking awkward in his leather jacket, jeans, and dirty sneakers. "Why do you only have one book on your shelf?"

"When I left home, I could only take as much as would fit in a backpack. Dorian Gray is my favorite book, I couldn't leave it behind." Dwayne's smile was almost invisible to the naked eye, but it was there.

"Are these your parents?" Star's voice, as well as the shifting of the mattress beneath her, drew her attention back to the brunette. She had stretched across the bed and picked up the silver framed picture, oddly enough, Missy noticed that she had wrapped one of the scarves hanging from her tank top around her hand before reaching out to grab the frame.

"Yeah." Missy whispered, reaching up to finger her locket. She flicked it open to show the picture to Star, the same as the one in the frame she held. "It was their wedding day."

"They look really happy." Star's smile was sad and sympathetic.

"They probably were, it was before I born." Neither Star nor Dwayne laughed at the joke.

Tough crowd.

"David said your mother killed herself. I'm sorry."

"It was seven years ago, it's okay." Missy pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them.

"You had a dream about your mom last night, though, didn't you?" Dwayne asked, and Missy wished that she hadn't told him that.

"Yeah." She mumbled, hiding behind her hair a little.

"Was it a nightmare?" Star whispered, as though the nightmare ghost of Missy's dead mother might overhear.

Missy stared at her for a minute, feeling stupid for answering the question. "Yeah, Star, it was."

"She tried to drown you." Dwayne said. It wasn't a question.

"Dwayne." Missy began, sighing. "I only want to have to ask this of you once more, please, please stay out of my head."

"Oh, Missy." Star looked as though she could have wept at any moment. "What a horrible dream that must have been."

"…Dwayne was talking about real life, Star. My mother tried to drown me in a bathtub when I was eight."

Star's hands flew to cover her gasping mouth. Cue pity, in three, two- "Oh, Missy!"

"Don't." Missy leapt off the bed like she'd been burned, snatching the picture frame from Star's lap and placing it face down on the end table. "Just don't."

"Oh, but-"

"Star." Dwayne shook his head a little, and Star blinked away the mist that had formed in her big brown eyes, but didn't try to speak again. Dwayne glanced up over Missy's head at the cross on her wall, and Missy thought she saw him shudder. "You're not going to go off and try to attack David if we leave you alone, are you?"

"My homicidal urge has passed, thank you."

Dwayne smiled. "Good, then we're leaving. Star."

Star rose from the bed and smoothed down her skirt, giving Missy one of her patented sad puppy looks. "Would it be alright if I brought Laddie by tomorrow night to see you? He wasn't feeling too well tonight, so he stayed home with Paul and Marko. But if he's feeling better, I'm sure he'd love to see you."

Missy smiled and nodded. "Sure, not like I have any plans tomorrow."

"Goodnight, Missy." Star disappeared out the door with the sound of swishy fabric and clanging metal, and Dwayne hesitated only a moment after her. Long enough to give Missy a long, searing look.

"Remember what I said earlier?"

It was Missy's turn to shudder. "Are you going to call the police?"

Dwayne sighed, or exhaled, Missy wasn't sure. "No. Just keep in mind what I told you. You say you'd rather die than go back to Seattle, I just hope that's what you really want. Dying isn't all it's cracked up to be."

Before Missy had time to contemplate that, Dwayne was gone, and Missy flopped back onto her bed and groaned. Her life was getting less and less like other peoples' every second. Ugh.

Consciousness bled into sleep, and sleep bled into dreams. Dreams that once again straddled that blurry line between dream and nightmare, pain and pleasure, heaven and hell.

Missy watched as the horses on the carousel, which, in the seconds that had come before, had been still, came alive now in front of her. They huffed and snorted, and she would have sworn with her hand on the bible that she could feel the moist puffs of their breath on her skin as they lunged at her, trying to rip and claw their way free of the poles that bound them to their revolving prison. She knew she was dreaming, had to be, carousel horses were wood and metal, they couldn't move except for the ones who functioned on moving gears. Still, she tried to run through them, their blunt, carved teeth tore into her skin, blood welling to the surface from the wounds and staining her once pristine nightshirt. She saw the blood, felt it wet and hot on her skin; she could smell it, taste it on the air, like sucking on a penny. She stared at her sticky hand, coated on the backside with congealing red, and when she blinked her eyes, it was all gone. She glanced around at the frozen statues on their poles, and down at her unmarked flesh, and it was as though it had all been in her head after all.

Maybe she really was losing it. And fast.

The lights buzzed and flickered around the carousel, growing dimmer with each of the rotations, threatening Missy with darkness. A loud electric fizz reached her ears and she whipped around in time to watch the bulb farthest from her pop and go out. Her hand came up to clutch absently at her front, pressing hard as though the pressure might keep back the organ she feared was set to beat its way right through her breast. She heard the hissing of another bulb, straddling the chasm between existence and nothingness, and then it too went black, spilling down into the chasm. "People and lights." She whispered as three more lights blinked out, bringing the blackness closer to her. Dream or no dream, she knew had to stay in the light. She was safe in the light.

The music turned slow and sour, like a warped record, and as the distance between her and the dark shortened, Missy ran. She tore her way through the maze of equines, slipping past their gnashing teeth that sought her flesh and all around her she heard the wind whistling, and in the dark on the wind, laughter. For a moment, the laughter paralyzed her and she jerked to a stop, wobbling uncertainly on her own feet as she craned her head to listen.

"Missy." Her heart stopped. It was only for a second, but the sickly quiet in her chest during that single, excruciating moment was enough to get her moving again, her bare feet striking the carousel platform hard as she ran. "Missy.""No!" She screamed into the wind, but the calling did not cease.

"Missy. Missy. Missy. MISSY. MISSY. MISSY."Her heart's erratic rhythm filled her ears and she trembled to the beat, stumbling away from the dark and toward the last vestige of light. She tripped, landing hard on her hands and knees as the last light blinked out above her. The darkness swelled over her head and she squeezed her eyes knew this dream, she knew what came next.

"Missy." No, she told herself. She wouldn't look. "Missy." The voice came louder, and a rough hand cupped her jaw, forcing her chin up. Her eyes, by consequence, followed.

She wished they hadn't.

The wall of moisture shattered in her eyes and her tears traced silvery paths down her face. "David." She whispered. Through the sheen of liquid that blurred her vision she could see the dark figures beyond him, and she blinked hard to bring the shapes into focus.

She met Dwayne's sable eyes, and she flinched from the emptiness, the sheer void of emotion there. "Don't do this." She tried to slip out of David's hold, but like a constricting snake, her struggle only made his grip tighten. His hands were like vices on her upper arms, squeezing her flesh until she couldn't stand it and cried out.

Paul, who wouldn't meet her gaze before, jerked and stared at his leader with an uncharacteristically tortured expression. "David," he took a step forward but Dwayne grabbed him by the scruff, yanking him back.

"I'm sorry, Missy." Marko told her, and she thought that the sadness in his eyes seemed genuine. For good reason, they both knew what was going to happen.

David 's mouth brushed over her throat, and her muscles coiled up tight like a spring. "Don't let him." She choked, and she felt David's lips slide back from his teeth in a smile against her skin.

Dwayne didn't move, but the fingers of his left hand twitched like he wanted to reach out. "Forgive us." He whispered.

"Paul?" Missy choked out, her hands coming up to push at David's immovable chest and shoulders. It was like trying to pierce a boulder with a feather. She felt him shake with cruel laughter. "Marko?"

"Miss," Paul whispered, and it was then that Missy noticed that the music had stopped completely. The carousel's rotation had ceased, and they were still and frozen in the dark. "Just…close your eyes." Paul said, and she felt David's teeth rake, feather light over her skin. She might have laughed, had the situation been different. David trying to be gentle.

She shut her eyes and felt David's mouth open over her skin again. He began to bear down on her neck with his teeth, and it was when the pressure became too much, and his teeth threatened to slice through the delicate surface of her throat that she awoke.

She didn't make a sound as she sat up in her bed, sick and frightened, but cautious of waking Edgar and Alan. The walls were paper thin, or so Alan claimed, and Edgar had ears like a hawk. Her skin felt cold and clammy, like a fish, or how she imagined an old corpse must feel. She thought about trying to make it to the bathroom in case she was sick, but after her nightmarish encounter with the ghost mother the night before, she didn't want to go near there.

She pulled her damp hair away from her neck, examining the smooth, unmarked skin for the bites she knew she would not, but feared she would find. She knew she wouldn't find sleep again, not after a dream like that. So she sat in the middle of her bed, shaking and hugging her pillow, with the stake Edgar and Alan had given her lying in her lap. "Get a hold of yourself, Melissa." She told herself harshly. "There's no such thing as vampires, there's no such thing as vampires, there's no such thing as-"

A loud crashing sound startled her out of her chanting, and she started to quake on the spot. It sounded like it had come from the parents' bedroom. Was someone breaking in? All she had was a stupid stake to defend herself, what if the robber had a gun, or a knife?

Mustering as much bravery as she could, she tucked the stack into the elastic band of her underwear and tiptoed out of her bedroom and to the top of the stairs. Please don't creak, please don't creak. She willed herself to weigh less as she crept down the stairs, and over to the cash register where Edgar kept a baseball bat stored under the counter for emergencies. She didn't even stop to think how unusual it was for someone to be breaking into the second story window that faced out into the alley next to the comic store, rather than breaking into the first floor, where the front door and cash register were. She was too scared to think logically.

She made her way to the room that housed the sleeping parents of the Frog brothers, praying that the robbers hadn't hurt them in the time it took her to fetch the bat. As she tried to work up the courage to open the door, she heard a muffled voice on the other side.

"Ow! Fuck!"

Missy steeled herself and twisted the knob with her left hand, holding the bat close to her side with the other. One…two… She held her breath and pushed on the door, releasing the knob as it swung inward. She slipped into the room, squinting her eyes and willing them to adapt to the darkness in the room faster. She could see the Edgar and Alan's mother and father, passed out from whatever else they had taken that evening in addition to marijuana.

Missy's hand groped along the wall behind her, and her heart sped up as the figure behind the curtain started to struggle with the heavy fabric. Even across the room, she could hear them swearing as her hand found the switch at last, flooding the room with light.

The person behind the curtains gave a loud cry and toppled over, taking the curtain with them, tearing the rod clean off the wall. Missy yelped, despite herself, and dropped the bat. It made a dull, hollow sound when it hit the floor. Edgar can hear a pin drop any other day, where's his super hearing when I really need it, huh? She stooped to retrieve the bat, her eyes never leaving the body on the other side of the room.

"Fuck!" She flinched, paralyzed with the bat in her hand. A couple of seconds passed, and when she didn't hear any movement, she let go of the hope that the idiots in the bedroom across the hall had heard anything.

Taking matters into her own hands, she ran across the room, waving the bat up over her head and screaming like she was on fire. "Hi-ya!" She brought the bat up on the 'hi' and slammed it down over the curtain-wrapped stranger on the 'ya'. She felt the shock from the hit vibrate all the way up the body of the bat to her hands, and shortly after, the wood gave a loud crack and split into two pieces. She squeaked and fell down onto her rear, scrambling backwards, away from the intruder.

"Jesus!" The person under the curtain stood at last, and it might have just been her fear exaggerating things, but Missy felt like they towered over her. Then again, she was on the floor. "Miss, it's me!" The curtain was thrown to the floor, and if the lights hadn't been so bright, Missy might have thought she was seeing things.

"P-Paul?"

Paul was rubbing the back of his head and occasionally glancing at his palm. Missy assumed he was checking for blood. "What the hell did you hit me with?" Her eyes shot to the splintered weapon on the floor, and he glanced down in response. "A bat? You hit me with a bat? Fuck! Last time I try to be romantic, and hi-ya? What are you? The Karate Kid? Christ!"

There was a second sound at the window and the remaining curtain was pulled back. "Paul, calm down."

"Marko?" Her mind sputtered for a second, trying to catch up with what it had just been thrown.

"Hey Missy." He waved at her, moving to stand beside Paul. "Dude, don't be a dick to her just because you can't climb through a window without falling on your face."

"Why can't she have a window in her room like a normal girl? We gotta sneak in like fuckin' cat burglars or some shit." The two blondes proceeded to argue over whether or not it was actually all that romantic to sneak in through a girl's bedroom window. Paul argued that it was tied for romanticism by throwing rocks at a girl's window and standing beneath it with a boom box. Marko argued that any sense of daring and romance was lost if you had to sneak in through someone else's window to get to the girl, and falling on your face and getting hit with a bat certainly wasn't attractive.

Missy was left to ponder how it was neither Frog parent (nor Edgar and Alan) had woken up during the ruckus she and the boys had created. "Um, fellas, I'm having a little trouble figuring out what you two were doing sneaking in in the first place. Aren't you supposed to be grounded?"

Paul tossed his head and grinned like a wolf. "We got out early for good behavior."

"I see." Missy blinked, reaching up wiping her bangs where they'd begun to stick to her sweaty forehead.

"You okay, you look like you seen a ghost or something."

"Having trouble sleeping?" Marko moved in, and Missy let him touch her still clammy face.

"A little, I keep having this stupid nightmare about-"

"'bout what?" Paul piped up, but Missy was too busy staring at something on the wall behind him to answer.

Edgar and Alan were vampire fanatics, that much was a given. In addition to random vampire screenings, and the occasionally suck-monkey pop quiz, Edgar and Alan had strategically hidden a mirror in every room of the apartment (all part of their flawless vampire-proofing, or so they claimed), and something rather strange had caught Missy's eye in the mirror on the wall behind Paul's back.

Nothing.

There was nothing there but a skinny blonde in her pajamas with a look on her face like someone had just walked over her grave. She could see the Frog parents in the bed on her right, and nothing else.

Marko and Paul weren't casting reflections.

No reflections. She took a shaky step back, slipping a hand under her nightshirt to retrieve the stake that had somehow managed not to fall from her waistband.

Paul's eyes zeroed in on it, followed by Marko's. The both of them let out a sound that could never have come from a human throat, their eyes flashing to amber, their mouths filling with too sharp teeth as they backed toward the open window.

Oh my god. Missy gasped, her free hand shooting up to cover her mouth.

Edgar and Alan had been right. Vampires actually existed.

More horrifying than that…

Edgar and Alan had been right!

"You guys are vampires!"

Thank you for reading.

So…the big reveal. I feel like I need a cigarette, this chapter was THAT satisfying to write. It was also my longest at seven thousand, eight hundred, and thirty seven words. That being said, I would like to address now, a review I received for chapter twelve regarding David. I adore David, I do, he's just a bit of an asshole. He's not the bad guy, just an asshole. A sexy one, one I happen to be very fond of, despite his assholeishness, or maybe because of it, I'm not sure, but most certainly not the bad guy. Missy and David are just gonna need to have a sit down and settle these differences they have after this chapter.