Lost Wolf
Chapter 4
Alex reclined against the wall of a small shop, a sarsaparilla bottle in his hand, watching from the shadows, just out sight.
Watching the people going back and forth from one form of petty amusement to another, or chasing a high that would never really come. Surf Nazis, regular, non-Nazi Punks, runaways, (how he pitied them, having lived on the streets himself), junkies, dealers and petty criminals mixed in with church groups, foreign tourists. average working Joes taking a night to themselves and happy families, some of which were obviously not-so-happy.
Oddly enough, both Max's video store and the Frog's comic shop were open. Max had human employees before being dusted, and they probably had no idea that he was even missing, much less dead. David or Dwayne would likely keep the store running, but not in the hands-on way Max had. He had no doubt Lucy Emerson had left to find new employment.
Just as well, he had no desire to deal with Miss. Emerson while they both knew her eldest son was being turned into a Vampire this very night.
And that he'd done nothing to stop it.
As for the Frog brothers, he shouldn't be surprised that they opened up shop again so quickly after falling afoul of the boys. They had little sense of self-preservation with regard to Vampires, thinking themselves miniature Van Helsing's. They no doubt wanted to show that they weren't intimidated. In truth they were probably terrified, they were just kids after all. And they desperately needed the money, the shop was their only source of income. He also understood that they would likely not welcome his business knowing that he was a Werewolf and a Packmate of the 'bloodsucking hellspawn' whom they considered their mortal enemies. And he had mauled Alan when Edgar tried to kill Marko. No, that friendship was over. But they hadn't come out of their shop as he passed by to threaten him, nor had they been standing outside warning passerby about Santa Carla's Vampire Infestation and passing out free copies of Vampires Everywhere.
The boys, Marko in particular, had been planning some rather disturbing pranks to unleash upon the Frogs, but they had no plans to kill or truly harm them, (not that he was aware of, anyway). They were far too entertaining and too well-known. They'd be missed, if not by their drug-addled parents then by their customers and the authorities. And not everyone was so quick to denounce Vampires as the work of delusional minds. He smiled at the irony, they know too much to kill. If anything at all happened to the Frogs, their infamous tirades against The Lost Boys would make them the first suspects.
They didn't have to worry about The Lost Boys tonight, at least. The Vampires were not stalking the Boardwalk this night, it would be too dangerous for everyone. Michael would be unpredictable and unable to hide his nature around large numbers of people. He'd never witnessed the change, but he knew that it came with a sudden bloodlust, and the newly-turned often killed in a frenzy. No, they would be stalking the beach in isolated areas far from the Boardwalk, too far for screams to carry to human ears.
He watched the crowd, noting a few daring pickpockets rushing about. He'd done that before, life on the street was hard, hell, life in general was hard. He'd been a very good pickpocket, small, nimble and quick. There was a lot of money and a lot of distracted people here. Any one of those pickpockets, if they were smart, could eat for weeks on the money these people were throwing away on stupid games and alcohol on this one night alone.
He leaned his head back against the wall and thought back to how he came to be here, a Werewolf living amongst Vampires.
When he'd first met the Lost Boys he'd been terrified. He was alone, vulnerable, homeless and his entire Pack was long dead. No one would notice he was gone, not a single person would miss him. He'd shifted, tried to intimidate them as much as a scrawny, half-starved 14 year old Werewolf could intimidate four powerful Vampires. They'd laughed, of course, but they didn't hurt him.
They offered him a place to live, food, safety, and, more importantly, companionship.
A Pack.
He'd accepted.
The days were lonely, for the most part, his only companions being asleep. He'd stay up some nights, to just hang out. They were fun, but dangerous, incredibly dangerous. He'd seen what they were capable of, and actively avoided situations where he would have to see it again. Otherwise they were good to him, and they truly cared about each other.
Then there was Max. The first time he'd met Max he was... Unpleasant. The elder Vampire kept making dog jokes and referring to him as a pet. Sometimes the boys would do that, in jest. But Max meant it. He'd met Werewolves in the past, unlike the boys, and clearly had no love for them. As time passed the rare occasions he saw Max became more tolerable, maybe he'd gained some little respect in Max's eyes, or maybe Max was just being nice to keep the boys happy. He never really knew. In any event, he had howled with joy as Max died, not because he hated him, (He did hate him, but that was beside the point), but because everyone was free.
Everyone but Michael.
Michael Emerson. He could see why David had picked him. He had a lot of guts and a recklessness that fit in with the boys' lifestyle. There was a sense of darkness around him that Michael himself seemed unaware of but the Pack immediately picked up on. He was also attractive, and David liked attractive things...
His mind drifted back to the present, the bright lights and laughter of the Boardwalk.
The people around him, the ones who knew about the boys, anyway, would steer clear of him. Alex didn't ride with the boys often, but between the earring and being seen often enough in their company local people knew not to mess with him. They might talk to him, sometimes, he was polite and friendly and never wandered off with someone who didn't come back again. He was, compared to the others, safe. But he never gave out information on the boys. Betraying one's pack is not natural for a wolf or a Werewolf. Whether curious locals, delusional would-be lovers or dogged police officers, he'd never give away information about the boys.
But not everyone had the sense to avoid picking a fight. The Lost Boys were, technically, a violent motorcycle gang, and in truth, undead predators. They had many enemies; Hunters, rival gangs, angry, ordinary people who were fed up with living in fear of a bunch of dumb kids who thought they were above the law. Then there were the people who, (usually correctly), suspected them in the disappearances of friends or loved ones, and sought revenge. But if he was attacked or wronged, regardless the motive, the offender would soon vanish, sometimes washing up on shore, drained of blood or torn to pieces.
The Lost Boys took care of their own.
The Surf Nazis were another matter, a gang of brain-dead bigots who just kept coming back for more. They wanted the Boardwalk, and the boys were NOT willing to just hand over their meal ticket to a bunch of Nazis without a fight. The Surf Nazis had numbers, but lacked tactical skills, or any skills not involving kegs, alcohol and fists. The Lost Boys lacked numbers, but had tactics (thanks Dwayne), skills, a great deal more experience in fighting and the minor fact that they were Vampires, with superhuman strength, speed, agility, the ability to fly and shrug off bullets like raindrops...
But the Surf Nazis were nothing if not persistent. The Boardwalk was always crawling with them, and they were always looking for trouble. That, and revenge for all of their dead. Taking down just one of the boys would strike a terrible blow against the Pack, while boosting their existing members morale and inspiring more wanna-be bangers to join them.
The most obvious targets were Marko and Alex. The Little One and The Skinny One.
He knew that he looked weak. That was just a fact. Like Marko, his appearance led people to believe he would be easy prey. That would-be-rapist in Louisiana who got his throat torn out could tell them otherwise. He was thin, but it was all lean muscle, enhanced by his lycanthropy. He'd kicked more than one Surf Nazi's ass, sometimes multiple idiots at once. His relatively good manners and clean-cut look didn't mean he would just let himself be beaten. He knew how to fight. Street fighting, fighting dirty, running away very quickly... He hadn't survived so long on the streets without knowing how to defend himself.
Despite all those lonely days at the hotel, Alex preferred to be unnoticed in public places. Of course, his antique motorcycle got him a lot of attention on the road or in a parking lot, but in general he tried to blend in with the crowd. Someone you see out of the corner of your eye, but don't bother to actually look at. Even though he'd been seen with the boys and was well-known on the Boardwalk, he could just vanish when he wanted to. He didn't dress like the boys, he wore plain hoodies, baseball caps, t-shirts and denim instead of leather jackets, mesh shirts, (or no shirts at all), and flashy accessories. Sneakers instead of boots. The boys made fun of his fashion sometimes, but they understood his need to avoid attention.
His head suddenly jerked up, and he looked down the beach, eyes narrowing.
Screams.
Screams and cruel laughter.
Too far for the human ear, but enough for a Werewolf, even in such noise-filled environment.
He shuddered.
They were feeding.
People were dying. And Michael Emerson as he existed before was dying with them.
He drank the last of his sarsaparilla, closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds.
XXXX
Michael Emerson knelt on the blood-soaked sand, covered in the precious liquid.
"Now that wasn't so bad, was it?" David flashed him a bloody grin.
Michael looked at the world through new eyes.
It was all so clear to him now.
He wasn't human anymore.
He was better than human.
Humans were prey.
Humans were food.
And he was one of the predators now.
Reborn in death and blood and terror as the ultimate apex predator.
The boys were cheering him on, congratulating him on his new existence. Paul gave him a hearty slap on the back. He looked down at his hands. His claws. They were covered in blood.
Slowly, he began to lick them clean.
XXXX
Alex watched as a grinning, blond-haired peacock in a patchwork jacket strutted towards him, ignoring the crowd as they parted before him like the Red Sea. If Marko hadn't been genuinely smiling, he'd have imagined something was wrong. Marko and his clothing were clean as a whistle, not even a drop of blood visible on his white crop-top. Marko never came back from a hunt clean, he was such a messy eater that Alex and Paul had once bought him a giant bib as a gag gift.
"Marko, how's it going?"
"Great, we have a new addition to the family! Michael finally took the plunge."
"Did you win the bet?" With Marko and Paul, there was always a bet on something.
Marko snickered, "Not even Paul would be dumb enough to bet against David's word. He said tonight and he meant tonight." He looked at Alex, "Why the long face, Noodle Boy?"
"This... This is a first for me. I wasn't around for Paul, you know. Of course you know, you were there." He shrugged, "I guess I'm just... I don't really know how to put it... How much has he changed?"
Marko smirked and leaned against the wall beside Alex, "Well, he made a real mess, and coming from me that's saying something. He took to it like a fish to water, though. No freak out, no going feral. He just, accepted it. Like he knew he was born for this." He looked out over the crowd, lowered his voice, "It's almost too good, if you know what I mean. Maybe he'll freak out later, or have a go at David. He was just... Too calm when I left. Like a cat licking his paws clean."
They had to be very, very cautious of what they said in public. Using the 'V' or 'W' word was a bad idea, unless someone specifically brought it up with them. And anyone foolish enough to talk about rumors of Vampires with said rumored Vampires rarely survived the night.
Marco began chewing his thumbnail. "So... Did you find out about the Froggy?"
Alex's face fell for an instant, then moved to a neutral stare, "He's not going to turn."
"I wish I could say I was sorry... I mean, I am sorry you..." Marko struggled, expressing comforting emotions was difficult enough for most human males, add in the inherent lack of empathy that comes with being a Vampire and it's damn near impossible to talk about 'feelings' and the like. "I know you're lonely, and it would be good to have another..., uh, bodyguard around, if only for your sake... But not a guy who already tried to sta-... Kill me. The Frogs are just too dangerous to let roam around free in the hotel."
"Alan Frog would be right behind his brother at the top of the list of people I wouldn't want to live with, much less give the kind of power being a... Bodyguard brings." Alex gave a slight smile, "He already has it out for you guys. I was just dreaming..."
"You can't be the only one on earth. We've been keeping our ears open, but your people are even more secretive than ours."
"Not to mention the books Dwayne and I found have been mostly wrong about us. The historical ones are interesting, but most of those people just thought they were like me and usually went around killing people."
Being members of races actively hiding their existence from the human race sometimes made for awkward conversation in public. Not that the Frogs hadn't shouted from the rooftops that Vampires, and now Werewolves, were real. Not that anyone believed them, but they weren't about to out themselves as non-human.
Alex decided to change the subject, and Marko was more than happy to oblige him.
"Are you going to get some take out?" Marko had to be hungry, he was almost always hungry, and the sight and smell of blood made it worse. For such a little guy he could take in a lot.
"Maybe." He began chewing his thumbnail, "Aren't you tired?"
"Yeah, but I couldn't sleep, not knowing what would happen, ya' know?"
"Yeah, I know. You never know what you're gonna get when-" He looked away suddenly, staring intently into the crowd. A man approached them, a stranger. He was well-dressed and clearly not interested in conversation. He smelled aroused. And something else, something unpleasant. Chemicals. A John, most likely... Dinner had arrived for Marko. Alex noticed the gold ring shining on the man's finger. Married, then. Another wedding ring for Marko's collection... Still, Alex felt a bit offended that the man assumed them to be prostitutes, but Marko just smiled.
The John smiled pleasantly in return, and it was as false as Marco's innocent, cherubic façade. Alex felt nauseous. The odor of chemicals hung around him like a shroud. He recognized formaldehyde, but none of the others. And was that gunpowder? "You boys waiting on someone?"
"Maybe." Marko gave his patented heartbreaker smile and bedroom eyes, combined it with his sex on legs voice and threw in an adorable pout to seal the deal. Not for the first time Alex wondered if Marko was actually a clever little Incubus pretending to be a Vampire. This guy didn't have a chance. "Depends. I can always make time for another friend."
"I was actually just leaving." Alex stated, careful not to scare off Marko's meal, "I have another... Obligation, tonight. Maybe some other time?"
"Of course." The man turned his attention fully to Marko as Alex threw away the empty bottle and walked back toward the parking lot.
Be careful Marko, this one's dangerous. And he has a gun. He knew Marko could pick up his thoughts, if he wanted. Alex then did something he'd never done, or even considered doing, he offered to help with a kill. Do you need a hand?
I'm psychic Alex, I can see what he wants. Marko replied, disgust evident in his voice. I'm glad I ain't human. This guy has it coming. Best you stay away.
Normally Marko would have snapped at anyone who dared imply that he might need help or protection. The fact that he didn't unnerved Alex even more. He didn't foresee himself getting much sleep tonight.
He was tempted to trail them, but he knew Marko wouldn't appreciate being treated like a helpless human. He'd also probably just get in the way if/when something did happen. So he'd just have to trust his friend.
The 1940 Indian Chief was parked right where he left it. He'd left the sidecar at home for maneuverability and better parking space. Marko's bike wasn't there, he must have flown from the beach. He turned and looked back as Marko led the man away from the crowd and nervously ran a hand through his hair.
"See ya' after dinner, Snickers."
XXXX
"Sucker thought he was Jack the Ripper... I just laughed at that pathetic gun... You should have seen his face when I turned!" Marko laughed, flipping the shiny gold ring over and over in his right hand. He was bloody now, he'd fed well, "I wonder if he even had a wife? Or maybe he killed her?"
"I knew something was off about that guy." Alex was stretched out on the couch, kept awake only by the fact that his Packmate had just taken down a man trying to brutally murder him. "He smelled funny and you should never trust a smiling man."
"You wound me!" Marko put a hand over his inert heart, feigning offense "Don't you think I'm trustworthy?"
"I trust you to kill anyone you can get your claws into." He replied flatly.
Marko snickered and grinned, "I can't deny that." He shook his head, "But this guy really, really deserved it. He was sick, man. I saw his thoughts. I wasn't joking about the Jack the Ripper bit, if I was human..." Marko actually shuddered in disgust. He didn't add that the man intended to track down and kill Alex later, as he'd seen his face and could identify him to the police. "I deserve a medal for killing that monster."
"What monster?" David walked in, followed by Dwayne, Paul and an absolutely blood-drenched Michael. Alex had completely forgotten about the neonate while fretting over Marko. He looked disturbingly like Carrie at the prom, and his eyes darted rapidly around the room. They landed on Alex for a moment, and the Werewolf got goosebumps.
He was suddenly eager for dawn to arrive.
Marko shrugged, "Some sick freak who wanted to torture poor little helpless me to death and scatter my organs across the state."
Dwayne shook his head, "You really attract the winners, don't you, Marko?"
"What can I say, I'm irresistible." Marko batted his lashes at Dwayne, who just snorted in amusement, "What about that guy that wanted to eat Paul?"
Paul laughed, "Zombie Man? How could I forget? I think I still have his skull lying around somewhere."
"Did he suffer?" Michael asked, his voice slightly deeper than before, darker, "Did you make him suffer, Marko?"
Marko looked honestly offended this time, "Hell yeah! I'm nobody's prey!" His grin turned sinister, "He may have been born a man, but he didn't die as one."
David winced and both Alex and Paul whimpered, Paul covering his crotch protectively. Dwayne shifted uncomfortably and Michael seemed unmoved.
"What about the body?" Dwayne asked, "Injuries like those would draw a lot more attention than our usual kills if he were found." He looked at the gold ring Marko was still playing with, "And if he had money, that would make it even worse."
"I figured that. That's what I hate about the rich, you can kill as many poor people as you like and no one cares, but one rich bastard turns up dead and the whole government comes down on your head." Marko shook his head in disgust, "I tied it down with rocks and dropped it offshore, past the shelf. And who's going to go looking for a body last seen on land in that deep of water?."
"And the blood?"
"I'm no amateur, you know. I can choose a good kill site and clean up after myself."
"Your clothes say differently." David observed, "You do realize that people probably saw you, Alex and the stiff together on the Boardwalk."
"Jesus! There's just no pleasing you. Alex has an alibi, people saw him get on his bike and drive away. As for me, I'll think of something if it comes to it."
"He probably had something incriminating in his car if he was going to kidnap you. And they'll search his house, too. No way a guy like that hasn't left evidence of his sickness somewhere." Alex advised, "You could say you were just teasing him and he got angry, pulled a gun on you. You punched him and ran. He went after you, you hid somewhere, maybe under the Boardwalk or in the House of Mirrors for a few hours, snuck out and came home. You have no idea where he went. I'll say you came home upset and told me everything that happened."
"You should stay off the Boardwalk for awhile, both of you. Let them think you were too scared he'd come after you to go back." David grinned, trying to rile Marko up.
It worked.
Marko let loose some rather colorful profanity at the idea that he was afraid.
"Came home. That would be a problem too. We can't exactly list the hotel as our residence. It would fit in with our image, but it would also make us vulnerable. We don't want any more hunters coming in here. Or police, or FBI..." Dwayne pointed out, "Not to mention we'd be kicked out for squatting or trespassing. Never mind the literal fountain of evidence we have right here." He pointed at said fountain filled with souvenirs.
"We'll think of something." David scratched the stubble on his chin, "I like Alex's idea, but it needs to be simplified some and to lead people away from the hotel."
"What about Max's place?" Everyone was surprised to hear Michael speak up, "You're his heirs, aren't you?"
"Unfortunately, dear old dad is also missing. We haven't finished working things out with his lawyers, and getting him declared dead without a body will take time. Sure, we could say he's on a business trip, which he is, in hell. He left us the house as a sign of his fatherly care and devotion. A few of us would have to stay at the house for a while. Marko and Alex would definitely need to stay until things died down. I'm sure Alex would enjoy the change of scenery."
"You two should get your bikes and head up to Max's at sundown. If it weren't so close to dawn I'd say to go as soon as Marko washes that blood off. You could take Paul, I could use some peace and quiet. What do you think, David?"
David looked at Dwayne and nodded his agreement. "It will also give us time to help Mikey... Adapt to his new life."
"Are you sleeping up here, Alex?"
"I'm too lazy right now to crawl down to my room and get into bed. And I'm not using the bed up here, not after Michael and Star made wild monkey love on it..." He smiled wearily, "No offense, Michael."
Michael just stared at him impassively.
Marko was right, something seemed off about the newly-turned Vampire.
Perhaps he was in shock...
"Well, we'll just go get cleaned up and get some rest." David clapped his hands together, "Thorn, you're on watch today."
Thorn barked something that sounded suspiciously like an insult from his bed of old cushions.
Just an average, All-American Family.
XXXX
To be continued...
Notes:
This chapter actually had more content, but I cut it out. I have a bad habit of wandering off in several different directions when I write.
I wonder if the Frogs are going to start handing out copies of Werewolves Everywhere.
Before Alex arrived, Paul was The Skinny One, but he passed down that title to the even skinnier Werewolf. Now he's The Rocker.
Some of the lost boys have special collections of items from kills.
Marko takes wedding rings from people who proposition him, he doesn't take them from every married person he kills, just the married ones who approach him for sex, (Marko hates cheaters and people who take advantage of/abuse others sexually.). He also takes fabric he likes to add to his jacket.
Dwayne used to collect pocket watches, but most people don't carry them anymore. They still pop up sometimes in the less searched areas of the hotel. He also takes books, as long as they're not trashy romance novels.
Paul takes whatever catches his eye.
Alex has three forms, Human, Humanoid Wolf and Wolf. In Werewolf: the Apocalypse terms these would be Homid, Crinos and Lupus. Unlike in WTA, he doesn't gain mass and his height only changes because of the way his legs reshape themselves. He's not 9' feet tall in any form. He does not have a Wolf Man (Glabro) form, a human covered in hair with some wolf features.
Alex doesn't like the idea of people dying, but understands that vampires have to eat. He feels far more sympathetic to, say, a runaway than he does to a Surf Nazi, a John or a mugger, and would prefer to steer the boys away from one to the other. He only offered to help Marko because he knew the guy was dangerous and he didn't want his friend/packmate getting hurt in any way. He has only killed once, in self-defense, but would kill (or die) to protect his Pack.