Hey everyone. Sorry for the delay between chapters. Something weird happened with the data transfer between my computers and I lost a lot of progress I had with the story alongside my outline. Lesson learned: always back up your work.

Either way, finally managed to get back on track, and here's the new chapter. I hope you like it.

I also have a Twitter now. If you want to follow for updates and retweets of fanart and fics I like, you can follow me at SnapdragonsR

Chapter 9 - November 17th, Present Day III

The station wagon isn't parked in front of the motel when I get back. The door to our motel room is wide open.

I run inside and the first thing my eyes land on is a toy robot Harry had thrown onto the kitchen counter. Malcolm's jacket is strewn across the couch, and through the open door to the separate bedroom I can the half-open Harry had hidden in.

They ran. That has to be it. Maybe they're looking for me, I don't know. But there's also a chance that Malcolm had to tell Harry the truth about me, and to protect Harry, Malcolm took him and ran. I wonder if Malcolm told him about me, but I don't think so.

I get it. How do you tell a kid their brother is a monster?

I don't have much time. Malcolm may have gotten Harry out of here, but there's still a chance he'll come back to get everything else. Or that he'll come for me.

Lara's given me two minutes to get my things, so I have to get moving. I grab my duffel bag and dump all the shirts and jeans that are laying on the floor into it. I don't bother going into the bathroom—Lara said that she'll replace anything I leave behind—and head straight for the bedroom. I grab my fraying backpack from the side of my bed and shove it into the bag, then yank open the drawer of the room's only bedside table.

There's a single manila folder so old that the edges have curled inwards. I open it, and against my best judgment, I'm slow when looking through the pictures. Some are recent, like the one where Harry is digging into an ice cream cone that's taller than his face, while others are so old that Mom's still in them, like the one where she's holding me in her lap as we watched fireworks in the park.

There's one picture of us in the hospital the day after Harry was born. The photo is focused on Harry, but I can see make out my face which had turned red from crying. I'm on Malcolm's lap for some reason, and he has his large hand under Harry's head. I don't remember much from those days other than Harry's crying, but I still remember how it felt to hold him for the first time.

Oh, God.

My breathing hitches as I stare at the photo. I'm leaving with Lara. I'm leaving without seeing goodbye. And if everything goes according to plan…

I'll never see him again.

I grab the whole folder and shove it in my backpack. Hell, if I'm never seeing him again, the least I can have are these goddamn pictures.

I'm almost at the door when I hear it. The old station wagon's engine skidding to a halt right outside.

I run back into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. I grabbed the edge of the window and push, but nothing's budging. I put more force behind it, but the edges just creak as I try to make it move.

Come on, come on. I push even harder. Come on you miserable excuse for a pile of rust. Move!

I'm pushing so hard I feel my muscles about to burst. With one more try, I push again, and I feel the window give way.

The opening is just three fingers wide.

Are you shitting me? I grip the edge of the window again and put my entire body's weight behind it. I just have to get out. I just have to get out before he—

"Harry!" Malcolm's voice booms through the motel room. "Get everything you see and throw it in the car. We need to move and find Thomas before—"

Malcolm stops mid-sentence the second he opens the bedroom door. There I am, half leaning against a fucking window that won't fucking open, and there he is, panting with a terrified look on his face.

It feels like time has stopped around us. We stare at each other in silence, as if one word could set something in motion that neither one of us will be able to stop. But if I'm honest, I don't know what to say. He almost looks the same as he did when he chased me down, with only his flannel shirt to keep him warm, but something's different. There's a slight bulge on each of his hips, right where you'd put a gun holster, and the jean cuff circling his right ankle looks a bit wider than it normally is.

I should've figured that the silence wouldn't last for long.

"Thomas!" For the first time in his life, Harry rushes into me so fast he almost knocks me down. He's still in his pajamas, but he's now wearing Malcolm's oversized flannel like a dress. The kid doesn't even have shoes on. "You're ok!"

Harry squeezes his arms around my waist. He didn't even notice that Malcolm and I were staring at each other, much less that I was trying to open the window to get away. He's acting like he doesn't know what's going on.

Which means Malcolm hasn't told him.

"Thomas, are you ok? Where did he take you?" Malcolm takes a few steps into the room, but he stays a fair distance away from me. His eyes linger on Ferrin's white leather jacket I'm still wearing.

I don't move. Not even to pry Harry off of me. I feel the anger rise up in my throat, and it heats my face.

"Stars and stones, Thomas, you scared us." Malcolm takes another step forward, taking a quick glance at Harry, who's still gripping me tightly.

You didn't tell him. I think miserably. You've had him with me all this time, and you did nothing.

"Of course you'd be scared."

Harry finally looks up at me. He doesn't let go, but I can see something's changed in his face. It's red from crying, but right now, right now he just looks tired.

"Of course you're scared of me. Of a monster."

Malcolm's expression is priceless. His jaw drops, his eyes grow to the size of jawbreakers, and he wears the same face Harry does when we caught him nearly setting the kitchen on fire. If this were any other moment, I'd laugh. In this moment, I feel satisfaction.

He struggles to find his voice. "H-How did you—"

"Lara!" The anger comes out in one word. "Lara came and told me everything. And I mean eve-ry-thing."

Malcolm's eyes dart from side to side as he processes what I've just said, and he just looks even more terrified.

"You think I'm a good kid? Bullshit."

"Thomas." Harry looks up at me, and goddammit, he looks even more confused than Malcolm. "What's going on?"

I stare straight at Malcolm. "Your dad forgot to tell me I'm a monster."

He raises a hand in an almost placating gesture. "Thomas, listen to me. You're not a monster."

"I'm going to hurt people!" I scream. "I'm going to kill them!"

"Thomas, I need you to calm down." He points his hand towards my brother. "You're scaring Harry, Thomas."

I shake my head. "You're the one who's scared. You're too scared to admit I'm a monster."

"Thomas—"

"You're a coward!" The small part of me that's still rational tells me to stop, but I don't care anymore, so I keep going, saying all the things I've thought about for the last nine years. "You think I didn't know something was strange? From the night Mom took me out of the mansion, I knew.

"Do you even know what I saw that night? I saw my father with Lara. I saw him run his hands over her body, kiss her neck, and take her to bed with him. And I felt… I felt something come from that room. It came from him."

Malcolm and Harry are silent. Malcolm is at a loss for words, and Harry looks between the two of us, waiting for one of us to stop and explain what this all means. But I keep going.

"I didn't know what that feeling was. I didn't know what was happening, but after Mom got us out, I knew it was wrong. And now that Lara told me, I know what it was."

"I wanted to give him everything. I wanted to give him my life." I swallow down the bile that rises up my throat. "He controls my sisters. He makes them want him and makes them have sex with him. He uses his power to make them his, even though they're family. He almost made me want him. I wanted him to hold me like he held Lara. I wanted him to kiss me, grab me, take me. I wanted—"

I wanted to be with him. God, why did I want that?

And this is what Lara goes through. This is what she has to do.

"It'll happen to me. One day, I'll want someone. I'll feel a Hunger, and I won't be able to stop. I'll kill in the worst way imaginable." I let out a breathless laugh. "But you already know that, don't you?"

Malcolm takes a step forward and starts to speak, but I cut him off before he can say anything. "All those late nights at your jobs. All this moving around. All those weapons you keep tucked away."

My hands are shaking. "You're getting ready to kill me. So I can never do to Harry what my father does to my sisters."

Malcolm takes a step back. His eyes go even wider, and he starts to shake his head. "Thomas, that not it at—"

"Stop lying!" I yell, and Malcolm takes another step back. "When I Turn, if I don't hurt Harry, then someone else will. Vampires sent by my father, wizards who hate the Court, someone will come to find me. They won't give a damn about who gets in their way, and they won't give a shit about what happens to Harry!"

"Thomas!"

"Just tell me!" I beg. "Tell me what I already know! Tell me I'm a monster!"

"Not yet!"

The instant those words are out of Malcolm's mouth, I see regret crawl down his face. This is what I wanted to hear from him, and some sick part of me feels content at hearing him finally admit it.

"But I will be," I say. "And I won't let Harry be near me when that happens. So let me go… or kill me now."

Malcolm shakes his head, tries to step closer to me. "Thomas."

"Do it!" I swallow the nerves in my throat. "Do it, or let me go."

Neither of us moves. I know my hands are shaking, and Malcolm sees it too. I hate to say I'm terrified, but even when staring down Ferrin on the worst of nights, I've never felt this kind of fear. I don't know what Malcolm's gonna do next, but whatever it is, I don't want to look him in the eyes when he does it.

"Harry. Let me go." I try to pull myself away, but Harry holds on even tighter. He has his head buried in my leg, and I can feel his tears seep through my jeans. I take a deep breath. "Harry."

"No!" He yells. He doesn't even know what's going on, but I can't stop to explain it to him. That's supposed to be Malcolm's job, and yet…

I look away from him. "Harry, you need to let me go." Because if Malcolm kills me, I don't want Harry to see. He can't see it.

"No!"

Tears prick my own eyes. "Harry!"

That's the moment the door explodes.

Splinters go flying through the air, ricocheting around the motel's main room. Wood dust surrounds the frame where the door used to be, and I see a large, familiar shadow walk through. He's missing his jacket, and his sunglasses are cracked, but there's no way I could miss the sly grin that spreads across his face.

"Hey, Tommy," Ferrin hisses. "Mind if I come meet your brother?"

No. I shake my head. There's no way this is happening. Ferrin can't hurt me. He's not even allowed into the motel.

I shouldn't have thought that because then a green fist the size of Ferrin's chest smashes through the motel window.

A loud boom goes through the entire building as another fist punches through the motel room wall. Ferrin doesn't even blink as the fist crashes through the concrete wall right next to him, making grey chunks land beside the shards of glass. The lime-green hands shake out their thick fingers as if they weren't used to literally punching through buildings. The hands retreat out of the wall, and I have a feeling it's not because whatever that thing is has changed its mind about coming in.

Malcolm slams the bedroom door shut. Another boom shakes the whole motel, and a large crack splits the bedroom's ceiling. Concrete due falls down on us, and Harry lets out a high-pitched scream.

"Thomas," Malcolm calls my name in a low voice. I turn to see him crouched next to the door, with a 9mm Glock in his hands.

My heart is beating so fast I can barely feel the room rumbling around me. I know I asked for this, but I didn't think he'd actually do it. At least not now.

"Don't do it here. Please." I flinch as he pulls back the Glock's safety. "Not in front of Harry."

Malcolm looks at me for just a second, and something flashes across his face. His mouth turns into a grimace and he tilts his head back, and I recognize it as the expression he makes when Harry's asked him a question he can't bring himself to answer. But then, to all our surprise, he looks at my brother.

"Harry." Malcolm's voice is strong yet calm, and without taking his eyes off my brother, he sets down the Glock and pulls out the second gun from under his hunting jacket. "Go with Thomas. He's gonna get you away from here. I'll meet up with you soon. Everything's gonna be ok, Harry. You hear me?"

Wait. "What?" I ask. Malcolm doesn't answer me, easily taking the safety off of the second Glock without looking away from Harry. Another bang shakes the motel, making the ceiling crack grow like roots worming their way through soft soil.

Harry digs his nails into my leg, and I have to stop myself from crying out. "Dad, what's going on?"

"You want me to leave with Harry?" I can barely hear my own voice over another rumble. "What's the deal, old man—"

"Thomas."

Malcolm's face Is hard as he raises one of the Glocks with both hands.

I squeeze my eyes shut.

A sharp boom fills the room. I flinch at the sound, but… I don't feel any pain. I pry one eye open to see a thin line of smoke leaving Malcolm's gun, and his gun isn't aimed at me.

It's aimed to my left, and there's a small bullet hole in the window.

Malcolm picks up the second gun, faces the door, and without looking back, orders: "Go!"

And I actually listen.

The bullet hole is small, but it's made some cracks in the window. "Harry, cover your head!" I yell to him.

When I feel Harry's arms detach themselves from my leg, I pull back my left elbow and twist my body. Twisting my body in order to give it more momentum, I use every bit of my body to slam my elbow onto the window.

My bone makes contact just as Malcolm starts firing his guns at whatever's beyond the bedroom door.

I've made cracks in the window grow, but it's not enough. I bring my elbow back again and slams it against the window. I go in time to the firing of Malcolm's guns. Bang, bang, bang, bang!

The cracks grow with every hit. I'm so close.

Bang, bang, bang, BANG!

Finally, the glass gives way.

Blood-stained shards fall onto the empty street, and I vaguely process the fact that the blood came from my elbow. I spin to see that Malcolm's run out of bullets, and he pulls out a spare set of cartridges from his back pockets. I turn some more to grab my brother—

And I don't see him.

"Shit," I hiss under my breath. A loud rumble shakes the hotel once more, and the harsh bark of Ferrin's laugh echoes alongside it. "Shit, shit, shit."

My eyes dart around the room, thinking of every place Harry's ever tried to hide in. The closet hasn't been moved, there's no one under the beds, and Malcolm's suitcase—

Is shut.

I throw open the suitcase's flap to reveal Harry curled up among Malcolm's magician cape. His hands cover his ears, and when Malcolm starts firing again, he flinches with every bullet that flies through the air.

I grab my brother and yank him close to my chest. That makes the blood in my bad wrist burst into a painful shockwave that ripples through my entire body, but that doesn't even matter. Harry curls into me, and I run to the broken window.

"What's happening?!" Harry yells. "Thomas?! Daddy?!"

I throw my leg through the window and use it to push us outside. We're almost through when my back leg gets caught on the sharp edge of the broken window.

"Ah!" A short scream rips its way out of my lips. My balance leaves me and I tumble towards the ground. I twist my body to the side, shielding Harry's head with my hand. I crash onto my shoulder as my leg rips itself free of the window.

This is the moment I know I should be aching the most, but I can no longer feel my body. It has to be adrenaline working, and I'll take it. I push myself up with my good arm even as bits of glass scrape their way into my skin. I stumble onto my feet and grip Harry tighter, just as Harry raises his head to look back at Malcolm.

"Daddy!"

I follow his gaze. Malcolm stands with his back to us. His arms are raised towards the upper edge of the door, holding the guns in a white-knuckled grip.

He barely flinches when the door is ripped right off its hinges.

A creature with green, rough skin fills in the hole left open by the doorway. Its so big I can only see its lower jaw, filled with yellow sharpened teeth. It's only wearing a ratty grey cloth around its waist, allowing its potbelly to spill over. A groan leaves its mouth, and the smell of rotten eggs spills out with it.

Ferrin's voice cuts through it all. "Get the kid!" He orders.

That's enough to get me to turn and run. My feet slide on the broken glass, pushing us forward as Malcolm lets loose another round of bullets.

Bang, bang, bang!

Harry screams in my ear. I keep running, but I can only take a few more strides before a white blur skids to a halt in front of me.

Lara stares at the motel behind me. Even though she showed faster than a hawk, she still looks perfect. Her hair and clothes are pristine, but the features on her face are drawn back. The corner of her mouth is curled back, and her eyes have shifted to a bright, brilliant grey.

"Lara, what is—"

Faster than I can blink, my sister hooks her arms underneath me and picks me up. On reflex, I tighten my arms around Harry and take one last glance back at the motel.

"Daddy!" Harry screams.

All I see is Malcolm stand his ground as gangly fingers wrap around his body. Then Lara takes off at blazing speed, and I see nothing but the winter wind whistling past us.