((This is where I claim not to own any of these characters, and I don't.
If you're reading this then you know who they belong to, and if you don't
then I'll tell you, Poppy Z. Brite. It's rated R for sexual content,
violence and swearing. Review it if you like, I'll leave that up to you
gentle reader, and otherwise enjoy.))
The years, like the miles underneath the van, seemed to roll on endlessly to Nothing, and it was hard to believe that it'd been six short years since the culmination of a sequence of events that led to him taking his father's place as leader of his pack of vampires. Nothing had taken to calling them a pack a few years after leaving, and held no illusions towards the contrary; Twig and Molochai weren't anything more than sentient animals, capable of giggling while they committed cold- blooded murder. He'd seen it firsthand, and what was worse was that he'd even participated and would again. The brown bloodstain underneath the front seat that no-one had cared to clean always served as a reminder to Nothing of his first kill, his childhood friend and lover, Laine. Nothing sighed, that night seemed so long ago.
"Where are we?" Still groggy from sleeping, Twig sat up and looked around. "North Carolina," Molochai responded from behind the wheel. "Hey, why don't you set us up with some of that primo weed you scored back in Boston?" Twig nodded and got to it.
Cheri, the blonde schoolgirl Nothing had seduced into his care the night before, stirred in his arms. Why he hadn't let Twig and Molochai have their way with her was beyond him. There wasn't anything different about this one. He just hadn't felt like it. In fact, he hadn't felt like much of anything lately. Nothing casually stroked her hair and stared off while she gently caressed his bared chest with her lips and fingers, and proceeded to rub her naked body against his on her way down. Even this simple pleasure was starting to wear on Nothing's nerves. This blowjob would be the same as the last one, and the one before that, and before that. There was no more spontaneity in it anymore. Nothing hated to admit it, but traveling with Twig and Molochai had finally worn thin; he needed something new.
Shortly after Nothing grunted into Cheri's mouth, Molochai pulled the van over to the side of the road to dump her lifeless body. There'd be other towns and other girls willing to give up their bodies for a taste of their mystery, and ultimately end up giving up their lives in the bargain; such was the nature of the vampire. Once again, Nothing had no illusions to the contrary, he just found himself wishing there was a reason for it beyond the next fix, or the next bottle of Chartreuse, or the next fuck.
It was during these times that Nothing thought of Missing Mile, and more specifically of Steve and Ghost, the duo of misfits who had formed his favourite band Lost Souls. As far as he knew, they still played that ratty old bar for a sold out crowd every Friday night. He was tempted to go back there to see them just one more time. He'd tell Twig and Molochai to go on and he'd hitch to Missing Mile. It'd be just that easy, right? Except, it wouldn't be that easy; Twig and Molochai had been the only family he'd known since Zillah and Christian had died, and to turn his back on them would be kin to betrayal. Besides, who would keep them in line? If anything, that was Nothing's primary reason for staying here - making sure Twig and Molochai didn't end up dead or worse at the end of one of their binges. Still, he couldn't help but miss Missing Mile.
"How far are we from Missing Mile?" Nothing heard Molochai ask Twig from the front seat. "Not too far now," came the response. "Why are we going there?" Nothing asked, suddenly interested. Molochai and Twig shared a knowing glance between them, and then both looked at Nothing. "You talk about this place in your sleep," Twig said, "the most we could do is go back there so you can see them play again. That's what you want isn't it?"
"Consider it a birthday present," Molochai said.
Touched as Nothing was, he couldn't help but worry about that malicious gleam in their eyes. There was something that they weren't telling him and that something made Nothing want to tear their throats out.
The years, like the miles underneath the van, seemed to roll on endlessly to Nothing, and it was hard to believe that it'd been six short years since the culmination of a sequence of events that led to him taking his father's place as leader of his pack of vampires. Nothing had taken to calling them a pack a few years after leaving, and held no illusions towards the contrary; Twig and Molochai weren't anything more than sentient animals, capable of giggling while they committed cold- blooded murder. He'd seen it firsthand, and what was worse was that he'd even participated and would again. The brown bloodstain underneath the front seat that no-one had cared to clean always served as a reminder to Nothing of his first kill, his childhood friend and lover, Laine. Nothing sighed, that night seemed so long ago.
"Where are we?" Still groggy from sleeping, Twig sat up and looked around. "North Carolina," Molochai responded from behind the wheel. "Hey, why don't you set us up with some of that primo weed you scored back in Boston?" Twig nodded and got to it.
Cheri, the blonde schoolgirl Nothing had seduced into his care the night before, stirred in his arms. Why he hadn't let Twig and Molochai have their way with her was beyond him. There wasn't anything different about this one. He just hadn't felt like it. In fact, he hadn't felt like much of anything lately. Nothing casually stroked her hair and stared off while she gently caressed his bared chest with her lips and fingers, and proceeded to rub her naked body against his on her way down. Even this simple pleasure was starting to wear on Nothing's nerves. This blowjob would be the same as the last one, and the one before that, and before that. There was no more spontaneity in it anymore. Nothing hated to admit it, but traveling with Twig and Molochai had finally worn thin; he needed something new.
Shortly after Nothing grunted into Cheri's mouth, Molochai pulled the van over to the side of the road to dump her lifeless body. There'd be other towns and other girls willing to give up their bodies for a taste of their mystery, and ultimately end up giving up their lives in the bargain; such was the nature of the vampire. Once again, Nothing had no illusions to the contrary, he just found himself wishing there was a reason for it beyond the next fix, or the next bottle of Chartreuse, or the next fuck.
It was during these times that Nothing thought of Missing Mile, and more specifically of Steve and Ghost, the duo of misfits who had formed his favourite band Lost Souls. As far as he knew, they still played that ratty old bar for a sold out crowd every Friday night. He was tempted to go back there to see them just one more time. He'd tell Twig and Molochai to go on and he'd hitch to Missing Mile. It'd be just that easy, right? Except, it wouldn't be that easy; Twig and Molochai had been the only family he'd known since Zillah and Christian had died, and to turn his back on them would be kin to betrayal. Besides, who would keep them in line? If anything, that was Nothing's primary reason for staying here - making sure Twig and Molochai didn't end up dead or worse at the end of one of their binges. Still, he couldn't help but miss Missing Mile.
"How far are we from Missing Mile?" Nothing heard Molochai ask Twig from the front seat. "Not too far now," came the response. "Why are we going there?" Nothing asked, suddenly interested. Molochai and Twig shared a knowing glance between them, and then both looked at Nothing. "You talk about this place in your sleep," Twig said, "the most we could do is go back there so you can see them play again. That's what you want isn't it?"
"Consider it a birthday present," Molochai said.
Touched as Nothing was, he couldn't help but worry about that malicious gleam in their eyes. There was something that they weren't telling him and that something made Nothing want to tear their throats out.