In the earliest early-morning hours, the police find the bike and
impound it. But they cannot find
evidence of the two riders, except for broken twigs, and the trampled
grass at the cliff edge. They
suspect that the fugitives are dead, and return to their safe, warm
beds.
But by morning the news abounds. Homeless man killed in brutal
attack. Boardwalk hobo
slaughtered. Elderly man murdered, police suspect local youth.
The vampire's enemies wake to headlines that slash with the
curving fortitude of a scimitar.
Alan and Edgar read one newspaper together, each holding one side.
Their parents sleep, and they
plan.
The vampire and his blood-son-brother sleep together, rolled away
from the offensive golden
rays of dawn and daylight. Once or twice Raven or David seizes from a
nightmare, but does not wake.
The rays grow long, and go out of reach of the cavern.
As the sun sets, Raven, newly initiated, is the first to open his
eyes. The world is a grey-tan
blur, until he blinks away the haze of sleep. He is momentarily lost,
and in his scrabbling haste he lands
a hand onto David's belly, causing a squeaky grunt of annoyance.
"You're awake." He mumbles. Never a morning person as a human,
he is not a twilight person
as a vampire. He rubs his eyes and rolls over. "Good."
Raven can hear the surf pounding outside, hushing and rushing
along the iron barrier of debris.
His ears have stopped ringing from their paint-stripping agony the
night before, and he feels rested and
lively. It is not at all a bad sensation--he has slept a good 12
hours or more, unusual but apparently just
perfect to his newly vampiric physiology.
"So, David...what're we doing tonight?"
"First, we get dressed. Then, we find food. And not blood, not
yet. We eat human food first."
"Good. I'm hungry."
"Hmm." He smiles indulgently, swings out of bed to find the
clothes he cast off the night before.
Raven follows, snatching up boots and socks and sitting on an armchair
to put them on.
"So what do you do? At night, I mean? Just wander?"
"For a long time I have been...healing. In my last battle I was
hurt badly. Otherwise...I have
hunted occassionally, but I've only caught a few animals."
"Wait...you mean, you haven't had a human's blood...?"
"Not in over a year."
"David, you should've told me. I--we--we could've shared that
guy's blood. I would've let you
have at him."
David smiles, but shakes his head. "No. No, my little bird, it
had to be your kill. Yours alone."
The smile becomes a smirk. "Besides, it is bad manners to share a
kill with one who is not your mate."
Raven lowers his head quickly, fumbling for words. "I...uhh...I
didn't know that." He knows it
sounds stupid, but it's all he can think to say.
The elder laughs, and strokes the boy's cheek lightly. "Now you
do. No hard feelings, right?"
"Heh. Right.'
They go, and fly high above the crashing, angry blackness of the
ocean. They set down just
outside the boardwalk grounds, careful not to be seen or heard--except
when Raven lands, and it's
more of a crash. David rolls his eyes and helps him up.
They traipse the boardwalk, David chuckling as he tries to keep
up with Raven's peculiarly
intelligent curiousity. They get to the carousel, and Raven motions
him over to several gaudily
decorated picnic tables. Raven then opens his coat, and begins
setting things out on the table. All
different types of food that he has wheedled, stolen, or found. All
is fresh, and depending, hot or cold.
"You *are* a clever boy, my little bird." David is laughing so
hard his eyes water. "Clever as
any."
Raven beams with childish pride. "You like it?"
"A fine spread, little bird."
The boy tosses a plastic fork to the other vampire. "Well,
what're we waiting for then?" He
digs in ravenously.
David chuckles.
"Wha?" Raven asks indignantly, a cascade of noodles hanging from
his mouth.
"You have attrocious manners, little bird. Maybe the humans are
fortunate that pictures of the
man you killed were not published."
He slurps the noodles down. "I guess. But...I was just hungry.
Really desperate. Is
everyone's first kill like that?"
"Oh, many, yes. It's a new sensation--I think you'll learn to
handle it your own way. My
brother, Marko, never quite did--he always leapt into the fray, taking
out the eyes first and ripping
everything in sight."
"Helluva guy." Raven says without looking up. "What was your
first kill like?"
"Oh...much different than yours. It was...I think it's now
nearly...two hundred fifty years ago. I
stopped counting. But no vampire ever forgets their first kill,
little bird. I was twenty-two years old
when I was first turned."
"I'd wondering...so you were born...?"
"1718, something like. I was turned by a man named Maxwell, a
man I thought at the time to
be my savior--from church and sermons and everything else in a young
puritan's life. I came, originally,
from Plymouth, you know. A horrible place in the 18th century, not
particularly pleasant now.
Anyway, he had turned me, and I won't go into that--such things I
would not force on you, my little
bird--but one night, as a crept beside him in the woods, I felt a
seizing up in me like nothing else--"
"So did I! I felt that! Like someone holding your heart in a
vice and twisting, oh it hurt!"
"So it occured to me. I was young, and frightened, and I took
off. I came upon another man at
the edge of the wood, and ripped his neck open. Finally, my pain was
eased. But--I found in the
morning that I'd killed the town preacher. I woke in Maxwell's
hideaway, my clothes crusted with
blood. I couldn't go back to human life again."
"Wow. That's really...I don't know...not exactly terrible,
but...I get the feeling Maxwell sort of
used you for his own means."
"He was my master. He was two thousand years old. He too was
killed last year--" He
snorts, "--no big loss. You're lucky, my little bird. I'm glad he
could never hurt you."
Suddenly Raven twitches, a scent twisting through the air, one he
recognizes. "David...who..."
"Raven, what's wrong?"
"Someone...he smells like human, but like you, too..." Raven
looks worried.
David freezes, a look of glacial fury crossing his face. "He's
an enemy, little bird. Come with
me, we can't stay here." He stalks off quickly, and the boy scrambles
to keep up, grasping one of the
loops on the back of David's coat.
"David--wait, who is he?"
"He would've been my brother, if he hadn't been so damned
*human*..." The vampire growls.
"He was a halfling until they killed Max. He and the other two
halflings reverted."
"Oh." Raven struggles along, then thumps into David's back as he
stops suddenly.
"See him...the one with black hair, with the girl?"
The boy peers over the crowd. "Those two?"
"Yes."
"So as long as they don't see you, we're ok?"
"Yes, don't worry. But I need you to know these things so you
don't get hurt."
"Who's the kid with them?"
"Oh, him...he wouldn't have joined us anyway." David snorts
irritably.
Quite suddenly Raven thumps into someone's back. The smell is
unflatteringly human, and it
smacks him in the nostrils with a quick one-two punch. The person
turns around, all teenage bluster in
camoflague and a red bandana holding back his hair. He is about to
give Raven a verbal whaling, until
he sees who is behind him.
"Jesus fucking christ, it's *you*...!"
Seconds seeming ageless, Raven sees a long, silver blade pulled,
and a hand shooting forward.
He snarls with lusty rage and strikes back, his newly-clawed hands
shredding whatever they touch.
"Raven! Raven, stop!"
"Eddie! Get over here, asshole!"
"Shit, shit, shit..."
Flashing white teeth over a tawny, unprotected face, snapping and
chawing, desperate to get a
good hunk of human flesh. Raven feels the pain of the knife plunging
between his ribs, but ignores it
with David's honorable guarantee--you will heal. So many are
fighting, too many arms and legs and
necks and teeth and the unmistakable stench of frightened human, and
somewhere, somewhere safe,
the faintest whiff of vampire, his kin and kind. Raven claws his
attackers, bites and tears, struggling to
get through.
"C'mon, little fucker. Get back here--!"
Someone grabs him by the neck and *pulls*, and god that hurts,
and something wet is hurled
across his back and the agony shatters his resolve. That hurts, that
is real pain, and that will not heal,
and he knows it. Now he is frightened, and the scent of vampire is
too confused, coming from all
directions. Where is David? Is he safe? Who is this man holding
him?
"Let go of me! Let go!" Raven struggles violently, kicking and
yowling. The human is strong,
but *he* is a vampire, *he* is immortal, *he* is evolution's rightful
heir. He feels a surge of great and
preternatural strength fire through him, and he pulls free and
*bolts*, straight down the boardwalk,
ducking and diving the frightened humans, as far as he can get. He
makes it to the cliff, taking a literal
flying leap, though diving too much as whatever liquid--acid? Holy
water?--was poured on him burns
further, sapping his strength.
When he returns to the cave he is exhausted, in pain. He smells
old scents, vampires, dust,
blood, chinese food. But no David. With a soft whimper he collapses
on the floor. His trust is broken,
sawed into rough, uneven halves and quarters. He feels it is his
fault, and now he is alone, again.
But David is a clever, centuries-old vampire with more than one
trick up his leather sleeve, and
he is alive. He returns as well to the cave, tired but unhurt. What
greets his eyes rips at his ichorous
heart even more than the deaths of his brothers. His one second
chance, his little bird, so viciously
wounded, helpless as a baby sparrow in the dirt. He kneels and gently
prods the prone figure.
"Raven? Raven, wake up, it's me."
The faintest sliver of green eyes tinged black with pain. He
hisses through uncontrolled fangs.
"Raven..." He cradles the lost boy, careful of the burns. With
time--much time--they may heal,
but the scars will be a permanent reminder. To the boy, of his
battle; to David, of his failure. "Oh, little
bird I'm sorry. I will strike them down...tear their hearts to
pieces."
"David..." comes a breathless, toneless rasp, "David...it
hurts..."
"Yes." The edge is brutal, knifelike. "It is Holy Water.
Deadly sometimes. One of a
vampire's true weaknesses. It burns and saps your strength. It takes
much time to heal."
"David?"
"Hm?"
"Did I get him?"
"Yes. You got two of them, in fact, in your fury. You are
strong, little bird. You will grow
stronger. You killed a guard, and the bastard who attacked you. I
could not catch the others. Oh,
Raven...I'm glad you came back. I thought you were gone..."
"I...was scared...thought you'd...be here."
David nuzzles his companion gently, a rasp of soft blonde stubble
on pallid skin. "Come little
bird...the night may be young, but you must rest." Carefully David
lifts the boy with strength belied
by his gaunt figure, and places him gently on a bed. Raven whimpers
as his burns pull and twist, and
David winces in sympathy. He has been burned before--he does not wish
it on anyone, even humans.
He pulls off the blood-soaked t-shirt, the boots and socks, and
gently lays a blanket over the
semi-conscious young vampire.
"David..."
"Yes, little bird?"
"Will they follow us?"
"They can't. We flew."
"Oh. Right...but how can we--"
"Hush. Your concern right now should be to rest and heal
yourself. We may be fighting
sometime very soon."
"Ok...good--uh, night--David."
"Good night." He smiles faintly, and Raven relaxes more deeply
into the bedcushions, asleep
almost immediately.
impound it. But they cannot find
evidence of the two riders, except for broken twigs, and the trampled
grass at the cliff edge. They
suspect that the fugitives are dead, and return to their safe, warm
beds.
But by morning the news abounds. Homeless man killed in brutal
attack. Boardwalk hobo
slaughtered. Elderly man murdered, police suspect local youth.
The vampire's enemies wake to headlines that slash with the
curving fortitude of a scimitar.
Alan and Edgar read one newspaper together, each holding one side.
Their parents sleep, and they
plan.
The vampire and his blood-son-brother sleep together, rolled away
from the offensive golden
rays of dawn and daylight. Once or twice Raven or David seizes from a
nightmare, but does not wake.
The rays grow long, and go out of reach of the cavern.
As the sun sets, Raven, newly initiated, is the first to open his
eyes. The world is a grey-tan
blur, until he blinks away the haze of sleep. He is momentarily lost,
and in his scrabbling haste he lands
a hand onto David's belly, causing a squeaky grunt of annoyance.
"You're awake." He mumbles. Never a morning person as a human,
he is not a twilight person
as a vampire. He rubs his eyes and rolls over. "Good."
Raven can hear the surf pounding outside, hushing and rushing
along the iron barrier of debris.
His ears have stopped ringing from their paint-stripping agony the
night before, and he feels rested and
lively. It is not at all a bad sensation--he has slept a good 12
hours or more, unusual but apparently just
perfect to his newly vampiric physiology.
"So, David...what're we doing tonight?"
"First, we get dressed. Then, we find food. And not blood, not
yet. We eat human food first."
"Good. I'm hungry."
"Hmm." He smiles indulgently, swings out of bed to find the
clothes he cast off the night before.
Raven follows, snatching up boots and socks and sitting on an armchair
to put them on.
"So what do you do? At night, I mean? Just wander?"
"For a long time I have been...healing. In my last battle I was
hurt badly. Otherwise...I have
hunted occassionally, but I've only caught a few animals."
"Wait...you mean, you haven't had a human's blood...?"
"Not in over a year."
"David, you should've told me. I--we--we could've shared that
guy's blood. I would've let you
have at him."
David smiles, but shakes his head. "No. No, my little bird, it
had to be your kill. Yours alone."
The smile becomes a smirk. "Besides, it is bad manners to share a
kill with one who is not your mate."
Raven lowers his head quickly, fumbling for words. "I...uhh...I
didn't know that." He knows it
sounds stupid, but it's all he can think to say.
The elder laughs, and strokes the boy's cheek lightly. "Now you
do. No hard feelings, right?"
"Heh. Right.'
They go, and fly high above the crashing, angry blackness of the
ocean. They set down just
outside the boardwalk grounds, careful not to be seen or heard--except
when Raven lands, and it's
more of a crash. David rolls his eyes and helps him up.
They traipse the boardwalk, David chuckling as he tries to keep
up with Raven's peculiarly
intelligent curiousity. They get to the carousel, and Raven motions
him over to several gaudily
decorated picnic tables. Raven then opens his coat, and begins
setting things out on the table. All
different types of food that he has wheedled, stolen, or found. All
is fresh, and depending, hot or cold.
"You *are* a clever boy, my little bird." David is laughing so
hard his eyes water. "Clever as
any."
Raven beams with childish pride. "You like it?"
"A fine spread, little bird."
The boy tosses a plastic fork to the other vampire. "Well,
what're we waiting for then?" He
digs in ravenously.
David chuckles.
"Wha?" Raven asks indignantly, a cascade of noodles hanging from
his mouth.
"You have attrocious manners, little bird. Maybe the humans are
fortunate that pictures of the
man you killed were not published."
He slurps the noodles down. "I guess. But...I was just hungry.
Really desperate. Is
everyone's first kill like that?"
"Oh, many, yes. It's a new sensation--I think you'll learn to
handle it your own way. My
brother, Marko, never quite did--he always leapt into the fray, taking
out the eyes first and ripping
everything in sight."
"Helluva guy." Raven says without looking up. "What was your
first kill like?"
"Oh...much different than yours. It was...I think it's now
nearly...two hundred fifty years ago. I
stopped counting. But no vampire ever forgets their first kill,
little bird. I was twenty-two years old
when I was first turned."
"I'd wondering...so you were born...?"
"1718, something like. I was turned by a man named Maxwell, a
man I thought at the time to
be my savior--from church and sermons and everything else in a young
puritan's life. I came, originally,
from Plymouth, you know. A horrible place in the 18th century, not
particularly pleasant now.
Anyway, he had turned me, and I won't go into that--such things I
would not force on you, my little
bird--but one night, as a crept beside him in the woods, I felt a
seizing up in me like nothing else--"
"So did I! I felt that! Like someone holding your heart in a
vice and twisting, oh it hurt!"
"So it occured to me. I was young, and frightened, and I took
off. I came upon another man at
the edge of the wood, and ripped his neck open. Finally, my pain was
eased. But--I found in the
morning that I'd killed the town preacher. I woke in Maxwell's
hideaway, my clothes crusted with
blood. I couldn't go back to human life again."
"Wow. That's really...I don't know...not exactly terrible,
but...I get the feeling Maxwell sort of
used you for his own means."
"He was my master. He was two thousand years old. He too was
killed last year--" He
snorts, "--no big loss. You're lucky, my little bird. I'm glad he
could never hurt you."
Suddenly Raven twitches, a scent twisting through the air, one he
recognizes. "David...who..."
"Raven, what's wrong?"
"Someone...he smells like human, but like you, too..." Raven
looks worried.
David freezes, a look of glacial fury crossing his face. "He's
an enemy, little bird. Come with
me, we can't stay here." He stalks off quickly, and the boy scrambles
to keep up, grasping one of the
loops on the back of David's coat.
"David--wait, who is he?"
"He would've been my brother, if he hadn't been so damned
*human*..." The vampire growls.
"He was a halfling until they killed Max. He and the other two
halflings reverted."
"Oh." Raven struggles along, then thumps into David's back as he
stops suddenly.
"See him...the one with black hair, with the girl?"
The boy peers over the crowd. "Those two?"
"Yes."
"So as long as they don't see you, we're ok?"
"Yes, don't worry. But I need you to know these things so you
don't get hurt."
"Who's the kid with them?"
"Oh, him...he wouldn't have joined us anyway." David snorts
irritably.
Quite suddenly Raven thumps into someone's back. The smell is
unflatteringly human, and it
smacks him in the nostrils with a quick one-two punch. The person
turns around, all teenage bluster in
camoflague and a red bandana holding back his hair. He is about to
give Raven a verbal whaling, until
he sees who is behind him.
"Jesus fucking christ, it's *you*...!"
Seconds seeming ageless, Raven sees a long, silver blade pulled,
and a hand shooting forward.
He snarls with lusty rage and strikes back, his newly-clawed hands
shredding whatever they touch.
"Raven! Raven, stop!"
"Eddie! Get over here, asshole!"
"Shit, shit, shit..."
Flashing white teeth over a tawny, unprotected face, snapping and
chawing, desperate to get a
good hunk of human flesh. Raven feels the pain of the knife plunging
between his ribs, but ignores it
with David's honorable guarantee--you will heal. So many are
fighting, too many arms and legs and
necks and teeth and the unmistakable stench of frightened human, and
somewhere, somewhere safe,
the faintest whiff of vampire, his kin and kind. Raven claws his
attackers, bites and tears, struggling to
get through.
"C'mon, little fucker. Get back here--!"
Someone grabs him by the neck and *pulls*, and god that hurts,
and something wet is hurled
across his back and the agony shatters his resolve. That hurts, that
is real pain, and that will not heal,
and he knows it. Now he is frightened, and the scent of vampire is
too confused, coming from all
directions. Where is David? Is he safe? Who is this man holding
him?
"Let go of me! Let go!" Raven struggles violently, kicking and
yowling. The human is strong,
but *he* is a vampire, *he* is immortal, *he* is evolution's rightful
heir. He feels a surge of great and
preternatural strength fire through him, and he pulls free and
*bolts*, straight down the boardwalk,
ducking and diving the frightened humans, as far as he can get. He
makes it to the cliff, taking a literal
flying leap, though diving too much as whatever liquid--acid? Holy
water?--was poured on him burns
further, sapping his strength.
When he returns to the cave he is exhausted, in pain. He smells
old scents, vampires, dust,
blood, chinese food. But no David. With a soft whimper he collapses
on the floor. His trust is broken,
sawed into rough, uneven halves and quarters. He feels it is his
fault, and now he is alone, again.
But David is a clever, centuries-old vampire with more than one
trick up his leather sleeve, and
he is alive. He returns as well to the cave, tired but unhurt. What
greets his eyes rips at his ichorous
heart even more than the deaths of his brothers. His one second
chance, his little bird, so viciously
wounded, helpless as a baby sparrow in the dirt. He kneels and gently
prods the prone figure.
"Raven? Raven, wake up, it's me."
The faintest sliver of green eyes tinged black with pain. He
hisses through uncontrolled fangs.
"Raven..." He cradles the lost boy, careful of the burns. With
time--much time--they may heal,
but the scars will be a permanent reminder. To the boy, of his
battle; to David, of his failure. "Oh, little
bird I'm sorry. I will strike them down...tear their hearts to
pieces."
"David..." comes a breathless, toneless rasp, "David...it
hurts..."
"Yes." The edge is brutal, knifelike. "It is Holy Water.
Deadly sometimes. One of a
vampire's true weaknesses. It burns and saps your strength. It takes
much time to heal."
"David?"
"Hm?"
"Did I get him?"
"Yes. You got two of them, in fact, in your fury. You are
strong, little bird. You will grow
stronger. You killed a guard, and the bastard who attacked you. I
could not catch the others. Oh,
Raven...I'm glad you came back. I thought you were gone..."
"I...was scared...thought you'd...be here."
David nuzzles his companion gently, a rasp of soft blonde stubble
on pallid skin. "Come little
bird...the night may be young, but you must rest." Carefully David
lifts the boy with strength belied
by his gaunt figure, and places him gently on a bed. Raven whimpers
as his burns pull and twist, and
David winces in sympathy. He has been burned before--he does not wish
it on anyone, even humans.
He pulls off the blood-soaked t-shirt, the boots and socks, and
gently lays a blanket over the
semi-conscious young vampire.
"David..."
"Yes, little bird?"
"Will they follow us?"
"They can't. We flew."
"Oh. Right...but how can we--"
"Hush. Your concern right now should be to rest and heal
yourself. We may be fighting
sometime very soon."
"Ok...good--uh, night--David."
"Good night." He smiles faintly, and Raven relaxes more deeply
into the bedcushions, asleep
almost immediately.