Chapter Twenty

"Ugh. Why is the sun so bright?" Sam groused, slumping down at the kitchen table, his head buried in his folded arms. He'd literally spent all night on the verge of an anxiety attack thinking about the fact he and his friends were about to go to war with a pack of vampires - one of which was dating his sister.

"Probably because it's almost midday Sam, what finally dragged you out of your pit?" Lucy glanced over her shoulder, stirring a pot of spaghetti sauce, the strong aroma of oregano and garlic making his stomach churn.

"Indigestion," he grimaced, rubbing his sternum.

Lucy chuckled. "Sam you're fifteen, you don't get indigestion. Indigestion is for old people who try to be adventurous with spicy food or people under a lot of stress. What do you have to be stressed about?"

Sam scowled at his mother's back, just because he was only fifteen it didn't mean that he didn't care about things or that he didn't have pressure on his shoulders. Just because his mom seemed to have stopped caring about anything other than her job or golden balls Mike, it didn't mean that he had. "You know mom, I do have things to be stressed about – things like the fact my sister has moved out to live with her deadbeat boyfriend because Michael and his stuck-up girlfriend set her up to be attacked and you once again called her a liar."

The sound of the wooden spoon Lucy was holding clanging against the pot seemed to echo in the tense silence as she turned toward him, her hands planted on her hips and her face set in a frown. "I won't have you speak about your own brother like that Sam. You know as well as I do that Michael would never do anything so heinous."

"Do I mom, do I? Because she was really messed up and despite her usual attitude I could see in her eyes how shook up she was and how hurt she was when you took Michael's side yet again-" Sam raised his voice, slamming his hands against the table as he leapt out of his seat, "-you might think Michael's always spit shining his halo but let me tell you, he can be a complete psycho!"

"I don't know where this is all coming from young man but I don't appreciate your tone," Lucy stated firmly.

Sam laughed humourlessly. "Funny how you never like mine or Flick's tone but Michael can speak to you and anyone else however he likes."

"Sam you're being ridiculous," Lucy shook her head, waving her hand in dismissal.

"You know what, let's settle this once and for all, let's get Michael down here and ask him what really happened with Flick without anyone else around," he countered determinedly, storming up the stairs to his brother's room.

"Mike! Hey Mike!" Sam hammered on his older brother's door. A combination of no sleep and being far too worked up meant that he was unwilling to be ignored this time and reached for the door handle, pushing the door open with a little more force than he intended before striding into the room. "Hey assho-" the insult died on his lips when he found the room devoid of life.

Sam frowned as he surveyed the complete carnage that was his brother's room. The bed was un-made, his closet had been ransacked and half his drawers were ajar. He stepped further into the room, his frown deepening. As much as Michael was a douchebag with an inflated ego, he always kept his room tidy and his bed made, there was just something about the purposeful mess that seemed almost staged. He was about to make a swift exit when a crumpled piece of paper on the nightstand caught his eye. He jogged across the room, his eyes scanning the spidery writing before he'd even picked it up. "Mom..." the note started, "...I can't take the accusations anymore. I'm leaving town with Star, we're starting over somewhere new. I'll call you with an address when we're settled. Love Michael..."

"What the-" Sam muttered under his breath, flipping the note over to check the back for any further information.

Sam knew that even if it was true and Michael had skipped town, he definitely wouldn't have gone so quietly. He was a complete drama queen and would have made sure that everyone knew that he was pissed never mind that he was thinking of leaving. Sam could literally see the parting brooding glare he'd give the room as he stormed out the door.

No, there was something off about this whole scenario, something that set his nerves on edge...

Sam backtracked out of the room and made his way back downstairs, bracing himself for the freak-out he knew would follow the news Saint Michael had bailed. "I found this is Mike's room – he's gone," Sam announced, his voice wavering slightly as an overwhelming sense of unease washed over him.

Lucy immediately left what she was doing, snatching the note with a look of panicked disbelief on her face. Sam watched as her eyes misted with tears, clutching her hand to her chest as she crumpled the note in her fist, her expression morphing to one of anger. "This is all your sisters fault-" she stated through gritted teeth, "-if she hadn't been such a-"

"-Mom!-" Sam cut her off, "-I'm tired of you putting the blame of Flick, she's not even here and you're driving the knife in her back. You've changed since dad left and not in a good way – it's not Flick that's tearing this family apart, it's you," he swallowed, stuffing the note in his pocket before rushing out of the house.

He needed to speak to Edgar and Alan.

"Guys!" Sam barrelled into the comic store, slumping against the counter as he panted, fighting to catch his breath.

"Jeez Phoenix, what's the big emergency? Your sister won't be rising from the crypt for another few hours," Edgar eyed him out of the corner of his eye, his attention mostly focused on the comic book laid out in front of him on the counter.

"Where's Alan?" he exhaled, blowing out his cheeks like a sweaty puffer fish.

"Talking about me boys?" Alan chirped as he waltzed into the store lugging a cardboard box.

"Phoenix needs to talk," Edgar clarified, closing his comic.

"Yeah? What's on your mind man?" Alan asked, setting the box on the floor by a half-empty shelf.

"I found this is my brother's room this morning," Sam stated, placing the wrinkled piece of paper on the counter, nervously biting his nails as the two brother's read the notes contents.

"What accusations is he talking about?" Edgar questioned.

"Remember I told you Flick got attacked?"

The two brothers nodded.

"Well the thing is-" he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, "-one of the main reasons Flick left home is because she told my mom that it was Michael and his girlfriend that set her up and my mom basically shut her down and called her a liar."

"What about you, do you believe her?" Alan frowned.

"I didn't at first but that day when child services showed up, Mike was getting in my face about it and I told him it must have been a set up and I might have implied that he'd know all about that kinda thing-" Sam combed his finger's through his matted hair, "-he got pissed and told me that if I wanted to end up like Flick then I should keep talking..." he trailed off.

"So, your brother and his girl set your sister up to get attacked and somehow Flick finds out about it after the attack, then a few weeks later your brother and his girl 'skip town'-" Edgar air-quoted, "-a little convenient don'tcha think Phoenix?"

"That's what I wanted to talk to you guys about-" Sam affirmed, "-Mikes a total neat freak when it comes to his room and when I walked in and found that note it was a mess, like it was trying too hard to look like he left in a rush."

"Like it was staged?" Alan offered.

"Exactly."

"Is this your brother's hand-writing?" Edgar held up the note curiously.

Sam studied the spidery letters for a few minutes, sighing in defeat. "I honestly don't know man but whether it is or it isn't, there's just something off about this whole thing. I don't feel good about any of it..."

"You wanna know what I think?" Edgar folded his arms over his chest.

"What?"

"Wherever your brother is, I don't think he's alive."

Sam's stomach twisted in one big gnarled knot. "Yeah – me neither."

Flick panted heavily, her chest and shoulders heaving under the weight of the wild, carnal rush coursing through her. She sank the blade of her knife deeper into her victims neck, burying it right to the hilt, her fangs primed and ready to sink into warm flesh. She swallowed, feeling the animalistic hunger bubbling just beneath the surface as she watched the crimson liquor spurt from her victims severed jugular, relishing in the feel of the warm coppery liquid seeping through her fingers. Every nerve in her body was on fire and she knew she couldn't hold off any longer as her mouth covered her victims bleeding neck wound and she sucked hungrily, humming with satisfaction.

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand as she staggered blood-drunk to her feet, dragging the now lifeless corpse towards the fire raging behind her, watching as the body was devoured by the flickering amber flames that licked at the cool night sky. The wood crackled and popped, followed by a sinister hiss as the body blistered and charred.

Paul growled, his eyes rolling into the back of his head as he rose to his feet, his own victim's hair fisted between his fingers and a large gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be. Paul cast the mutilated cadaver into the flames, the crisp night air filling with the putrid scent of burning flesh. Flick could feel herself grow wet when her eyes roved the rugged contours of his bloodstained handsome face, the fire in his eyes burning brighter than the wavering flames inches behind her. She knew her knickers would be soaked, her womanhood slick and ready for his glorious cock.

Flick scanned the immediate area. They were on a pretty derelict beach and the only building around was an old forgotten shower block, it's crumbling sun-bleached brick walls a stark contrast to the flawless pristine stretch of sand. She grabbed Paul's hand and pulled him in the building's direction, her lips tingling with the thought of what she wanted between them. She kicked down the rotting door and a cloud of dirt, dust and cobwebs encased them, leaving the pair coughing and swatting at the unpleasant veil. Once the dust had settled, she yanked Paul toward one of the busted stalls, pushing him up against it's disintegrating tile wall.

She slid her hands over his strong chest, pushing his jacket over his shoulders, guiding it down the length of his arms before leaving it to fall to the floor where it landed with a faint thud. She fisted his hair, drawing him down to her lips, capturing him in a heated, hungry kiss. She drew her tongue over his blood smeared lips, nipping and sucking the plump curved pillows that framed his mouth. Paul groaned as his hands snaked over her chest before entangling in her hair, his deft fingertips massaging her scalp as he devoured her mouth in a burning, wet kiss.

Flick grazed her teeth over his bottom lip before trailing teasingly lingering kisses down the length of his neck, her nails zig-zagging lustfully down the length of his body. She dropped to her knees, sliding her hands beneath the hem of his shirt and her thumbs grazing his hip bone eliciting a pleasured shudder while his hands gripped the rotten, wooden panels of the stall. Flick unbuckled his belt, the metal clasp hitting his thigh with a loud jangle and tugged down his zipper, her fingers brushing over his rock-hard cock covered by the thin material of his boxers. The only sounds she could hear were the sound of Paul's panting, lusty breaths, the sound of the ocean waves lapping at the shore and the quiet rustle of fabric as she worked his boxers down over his hops, her mouth watering in anticipation when his cock sprung skyward.

Paul groaned, his body tensing when she drew her tongue the full length of his shaft, circling the tip with slow, teasing licks. Flick moaned, wetting her lips with her tongue before taking him in her mouth, humming sensually when the taste of him flooded her senses. She alternated between circular motions with her tongue and light, playful sucks, moaning when she tasted the salty hint of pre-cum leaking from his tip. "Oh fuck..." Paul panted, his thighs tensing and his body jerking as she continued to devour him.

Flick wrapped her fist around the base of his cock and slowly worked her hand over his shaft as she sucked and licked the tip. Paul growled, his body violently jerking as she felt warm, salty liquid spill down her throat. The intensity of his orgasm had him gripping the rotting wooden panels so hard that they shattered beneath his fingers, sending splinters of mouldy, decayed wood showering over them.

Flick re-arranged Paul's clothes and straightened herself up, running the tips of her fingers over her lips with a smirk. Paul's eyes were dark and stormy and the way he was staring at her was akin to a lion ready to ravish an unsuspecting gazelle. Before she knew what was happening Paul grabbed her waist and slammed her against the cracked tiles, splaying her hands out in front of her at the same time his feet nudged her ankles, pushing her legs further apart. Flick whimpered with lust when she felt something hard press against her ass. She loved the fact he had no refractory period. His skilled fingers trailed the curves of her waist before he hooked them beneath the waistband of her jeans and knickers, tugging them down to her knees. The anticipation of what was about to happen had her juices trickling down the insides of her thighs while her apex throbbed with indescribable need.

Flick cried out in pleasure when he sank into her hot, wet heat, his hips snapping against her ass while his hands roughly gripped her hips. She pushed herself back against him, needing to feel him deeper. Her nails scraped against the chipped tile as she whimpered and moaned, her legs trembling as liquid fire flowed through her veins with every rhythmic thrust of his hips. "Oh sh..." her voice tapered off when Paul's hand snaked around the front of her body, his fingers rubbing her clit in a way that made her head spin while he continued to drill himself inside her.

Seconds later and Flick reached the point of no return, her body shaking while her muscles spasmed under the effects of one of the most intense orgasms she'd ever experienced. Paul growled, his fingers digging into the flesh of her thighs as he too found his release, his movements becoming erratic and uncoordinated before he collapsed panting against her back. "Fucking hell..." he panted, his voice muffled by her shirt and she couldn't help but laugh with Paul's own laughter joining her own seconds later.

Lucy paced the width of the kitchen, her eyes intermittently drifting to the phone as she anxiously chewed her thumbnail, silently praying that it would ring and it would be Michael, telling her that he was fine, that he'd made the wrong decision and that he was coming home.

When the shrill sound of the phone ringing echoed in the maddening silence of the house, Lucy's heart leapt into her throat and she practically flew across the room, banging her hip on the back of one of the chairs. "Hello?" she exhaled breathlessly, rubbing her smarting hip.

"Oh hi Mrs Emerson, is Flick around?" a young female voice chirped down the line and resentment bubbled in Lucy's chest with the mention of her daughter.

"No and she won't be for quite awhile," Lucy spoke coldly.

"I don't understand..." her daughter's friend answered, her tone confused.

"I'm sorry but I need to keep this line open, I'll let her know to call you," Lucy flustered.

"But you didn-"

Lucy slammed the phone into the receiver, pinching the bridge of her nose as she exhaled a calming breath. She hesitantly reached for the phone once more, her trembling fingers dialling the sequence of numbers she still knew by heart. Lucy listened to the monotonous succession of beeps as the call waited to be connected. After the fourth ring she heard a distinct click and a familiar voice filtered down the line. "Stuart Emerson's office," her ex husband chimed and her heart fluttered.

"Hi Stuart, I-"

"-Lucy?" her ex sounded more than a little bewildered.

"Y-yes-" she stammered, swallowing around the lump in her throat, "-I'm sorry to be bothering you at work but I was wondering if you've heard from Michael at all?"

"Not for a few days, why has something happened?"

"Well things have been a bit upside down out here for a few weeks now and Michael's apparently had enough and left town. I only knew he'd gone when Sam found the note he'd left. I thought maybe he'd gone back to Phoenix," she explained.

"What do you mean things have been a bit upside down? Don't tell me Flick's gone and got herself mixed up in trouble already?"

Lucy laughed bitterly. "See I was starting to think I was being too hard on her but-"

"-You were never hard enough," Stuart interjected.

Lucy sighed, rubbing her temple. "Oh Stu everything's such a mess... I don't know what to do, I-"

"-Just take a deep breath and start from the beginning," he replied, his voice soft reminding her of the way he used to speak to her when they first married rather than the barking hound always snapping at her ankles.

"I don't want to take up all your time, I know you're busy..." she chewed her bottom lip.

"Take as much time as you need – I'm listening..."

~/~

"David?" Sophia's soft voice filtered through the blaring dissonance of the boardwalk.

"Hmmm?" he hummed, tearing his eyes away from the bright lights of the Ferris-wheel to meet her glittering hazel eyes.

"Last night..."

David's chest tightened as memories of the previous night flooded the forefront of his mind. Memories of his vulnerability. Memories of the way he'd left himself open and weak. Memories of asking her to tell him she loved him just because he wanted -no needed- to hear it so badly. Memories of confessing how much he wished he could keep her. He swallowed around the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat hoping that she wouldn't want to talk about it, that she'd put it all down to being lost in a moment of passion.

"What about it?" he feigned indifference.

"When you said you wished you could keep me, what did you mean?" she asked.

He should have wiped her damn memory then he wouldn't be sat here feeling so pathetic and uneasy. Then again, he hadn't been lying when he said he wished he could keep her, he felt connected to her, she calmed the storm forever raging inside him. What's the worst that could happen if he was honest?

Rejection... the sinister voice at the back of his mind sneered and his stomach knotted.

"I-" he exhaled sharply, rubbing his hand down his jaw, "-I meant that I wished you could stay here – with me."

Sophia's eyes widened, her cheeks glowing rosy pink. Christ she was so fucking beautiful. So kind. So innocent. So fucking naïve. Despite knowing that she was too good for a cold-hearted killer like him, he couldn't silence the selfish part of him nor the ache in his core that screamed at him to not let her go.

He turned his body toward her, reaching for her hands as he memorised every beautiful inch of her face. "Stay Sophia," he murmured, feeling the gnarled finger's of vulnerability clawing at his chest from the inside out.

"David I can't I-"

Faster than the speed of lightening the steel fortress he'd build around him that she'd managed to dent and bend re-erected as strong and impenetrable as ever. The sting of her rejection was like a dagger to his long-dead heart, the lump in his throat growing bigger, so much so that he could feel it pressing against his wind-pipe and if he knew that it mattered, he'd be concerned that he'd start to choke unable to breathe. He dropped her hands like hot coals and practically leapt to his feet.

"I have to go, enjoy the rest of your night and have a safe journey home tomorrow," he forced himself to remain neutral. Just because she'd stomped all-over his heart didn't mean that he had to take his hurt out on her. It was himself that he was angry with, she didn't deserve his fury.

He was stupid to think someone as pure and as good as her would ever be satisfied with someone like him...

"David wait, let me explain," she bargained, following him down the pier.

"I think you've made your feelings clear enough – goodbye Sophia," he spoke over his shoulder, afraid that if he turned to look at those hauntingly beautiful eye's he'd crumble.

David strode down the incline trying to ignore the lingering sting of hurt in his chest. This is why he was so cold and emotionless, it stopped him from feeling like this. He jumped down into the main cavern to find that he wasn't alone. Dwayne was perched on an unearthed marble pillar, his head buried in a book while Flick and Paul sat on the ledge of the fountain surrounded by empty beer bottles, passing a joint between the two of them and Marko sat slumped on the couch toying with a Rubix Cube.

Fan-fucking-tastic.

"N'aww what's up Dave, that time of the month?" Paul smirked and Flick punched his arm, silently warning him to shut up.

Smart girl...

"Fuck off Paul – I'm not in the mood for your bullshit," David scowled, making his way across the cavern toward the tunnel leading deeper into the cave.

"You're never in the mood for anything man, you know there's a consensus in the cave, a consensus that you're bringing the pack down you big fucking buzzkill," he retorted and David tensed as a bubble of anger lodged itself in his throat.

Why did he always have to be the butt of everyone's fucking jokes?

His hands balled into fists by his side as he spun around, facing the amused faces of his pack brother's while he noted Flick looking a little uneasy, like she wasn't comfortable partaking in the ridicule. "Am I just one big fucking joke to you? Is my life just one big fucking punchline?"

"Maybe if you learned to take a fucking joke then you wouldn't feel so victimised all the damn time-" Paul rolled his eyes, "-quit playing the Martyr Sutherland, that shits grown old."

David could feel liquid rage flood his veins like molten lava. He'd grown tired of being the centre of everyone's amusement. He'd grown tired of shouldering everyone's responsibilities and getting no thanks for it. He was tired of being used, rejected, alone. All the lingering hurt festering inside him had finally come to a head, exploding in one big tidal wave of anger.

"You know what Paul? Fuck you. No, in fact, fuck all of you-" David snarled, "-I'm fucking tired of being the one to shovel the shit that you create and are either too ignorant, arrogant, dumb or fucking scared to do yourself. Everything I do for you assholes get's no appreciation whatsoever and I'm done. From now on you can clean up your own shit because I'm not going to do it anymore."

"See what you've done asshole," Dwayne scowled at Paul, shaking his head in disapproval.

"I don't know why you're chiming in Wirth because you're just as fucking bad. Don't sit and play the fucking innocent party when you're just as happy to sit back and let me do all the work while you take the piss with the rest."

"Sheesh, dude calm down, it's just a joke," Paul scoffed.

"You're the fucking joke!" David yelled, back-handing Paul across the face.

Dwayne and Marko quickly stepped between him and Paul, holding their hands up in a silent truce. "Move it man, I don't need you two to fight my battles, if he wants to throw down then let's go – I ain't scared," Paul stated cockily, pushing past his two bodyguards.

"Paul stop it, know when to shut up," Flick hissed, grabbing at his jacket.

David met Flick's eyes and saw her fear and it was that fear and the fact that she'd not joined in on any of the 'jokes' at his expense and on occasion defended him that he decided to back off. "Fuck it, you're not worth it. You're a fucking man-child with a superiority complex and one day, you might realise that life isn't just one big joke and you might come to appreciate everything that I've done for you. Perhaps you'll feel guilty about it but I won't hold my breath. Until then I don't want to see you, speak to you or breathe the same fucking air as you."

Paul chuckled darkly. "You're such a fucking drag. I'd be happy if you didn't speak to me, you're a fucking downer to be around with your obvious shit ton of childhood trauma and emotional baggage."

David flinched at the mentioned of his childhood and Paul's lip curled up in a knowing smirk, clearly knowing that he'd hit a nerve and ready to take full advantage of it. "You know you did the world a favour when you 'died'-" he air-quoted, "-I bet it was a happier place without your miserable ass. I bet mommy and daddy fucking celebrated. In fact this pack would be better off with you. You're a shit leader and a shit fucking friend."

Without any warning aside from a rumbling snarl of anger David reeled back his arm and swung his fist into Paul's jaw, the crunch of splintering bone echoing around the cavern as blood spurted from Paul's mouth like a fountain of death. Paul dropped to his knees, hissing in pain but David offered him no respite when he grabbed him by the scruff of his shirt and launched him across the cavern, sending him flailing through the air and crashing with a thunderous thud against the jagged rocks while Dwayne and Marko looked on, smart enough to know they'd get the same treatment if they tried to intervene.

David heard Flick pleading with him to stop but her pleas fell on deaf ears, the red mist had descended and he was too enraged to stop. Paul hauled himself to his feet and sprinted in David's direction, swinging his arm in David's face. David caught his fist and twisted his arm up his back, effortlessly breaking his arm. Paul growled in pain, cradling his arm against his chest as he swept his foot back, sweeping David's feet out from beneath him. However, David was quick to react, catching himself in a plank as he hit the floor before springing back up to land a hard kick to the back of Paul's knees sending him crumping back to the ground.

With his arm still healing, Paul's reactions were slower and he landed awkwardly creating the opportunity for David to grip his hair in his fist, slamming his face against the bloodstained stone. Somehow, Paul managed to twist his body and with his back braced on the floor, he brought his legs up and kicked David off him and into the air. David flailed backwards before catching himself on a jutting rock, hanging motionlessly while Paul staggered to his feet.

Paul circled his neck, stretching out his arm as his bone knitted back together and just as he turned to see where the hell David had gotten to, David launched himself from the beam, the heels of his boots hitting Paul directly in his chest sending him rocketing into the wall behind him where he hit the stones with a wet thud and slumped to the floor in a bloody heap.

"Anyone have anything to add?" David snarled as he tried to reign in his rage. The only sound in the cavern was Paul's panting breaths as his bones knitted back together, the sound of crashing waves and the steady drip of water coming from deeper within the cave.

David was about to head to a cavern deeper underground when Dwayne spoke up, stopping him in his tracks. "Do you really think we take you for granted or that we don't care about you?" he asked, his brows furrowed.

"Yes I do and this little performance tonight-" he gestured to the cavern, "-just goes to prove it and before you start trying to placate me with bullshit you can save it, I didn't see any of you trying to defend me so that in itself speaks volumes," he added, turning his back on his pack.

"Dude, what the hell?!" Marko threw his hands up in exasperation the second David was out of earshot.

Paul grimaced, running a hand through his hair. "I fucked up, huh?"

"You think?!" Dwayne scoffed, gesturing to the blood splatters staining not only the floor of the cavern but Paul's clothes also.

"David didn't deserve what you said Paul, you don't know his past, what you said could have really hurt him," Flick shook her head, her expression one of disappointment.

"Babe don't look at me like that," he mumbled, guilt making his stomach twist.

"You know he could have killed you, don't you?" Dwayne sighed, digging the heels of his hands in his eyes.

Paul groaned, sinking down onto the ledge of the fountain with his head in his hands.

"Why'd you do it man?" Marko asked, slumping beside him.

"I dunno. I was honestly just joking at first. I didn't expect him to go so psycho on me..."

"Could you not have just like... shut the fuck up when you realised he wasn't in the mood for jokes?" Flick interjected.

"Shoulda, woulda, coulda..."

"It's such bullshit that you even justify it Paul," Dwayne rolled his eyes.

"I know I went too far and I lost control of myself for a minute. You know me man, I never know when to shut the fuck up and I have no filter. My brain didn't actually process that I'd gone too far until he was kicking my ass. Then and only then did it register that I fucked up but I was in too deep to just hold my hands up."

"Well the goods news is he isn't just mad at you-" Dwayne brooded, "-he's pissed at all of us."

"Is that supposed to be some kinda consolation? I'm the one who got my face re-arranged," Paul grimaced, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Thanks for jumping in there guys, it meant a lot," he scoffed.

"Are you kidding?-" Marko laughed humourlessly, "-you know as well as I do that he would have beat the shit out of all of us."

"Ugh. I need a drink," Paul muttered in self-pity.

P.S...

Shout out to NinJettey for giving me some inspiration for the next few chapters. :)