The Second

The mourners walked and grieved. Slowly , they trudged their way out from beneath the shadow of the tall oak trees, leaving the DeGeorges to their eternal slumber. Benson and Stabler walked with the slow pace of the group, but their faces bore no grief, affected or actual. They remained official and icy, emotionally separate from the others.

Theresa Quimby moved along, head down. She didn't really know Felicia's parents, but assumed that they were people of an average level of decency, and found it hard to imagine why anyone would wish to kill them. Her thoughts were of Felicia, who still was missing.

A hiss from a nearby hedge caught her attention. She dropped, as if to tie a shoe, letting the others pass her by. She crawled over closer, and saw a face peering from the bushes.

"Felicia!"

"Shhh!"

"Oh-my-God! Where have you been?"

"I'll tell you later!"

"What happened? Did you escape? Did they hurt you?"

"I'm fine! Listen: meet me in the park tonight. I have to tell you something very important. Come alone."

"What? Why?"

"You'll see. Tonight, after dark. I need you to come, Theresa."

"Oh…okay."

"Theresa!"

"Er, um, come on, I want to get to the, uh, party."

Theresa turned to her parents, cast a quick glance back at Felicia, nodded, and ran off.

That night, Theresa found herself in the park. She couldn't figure out why she didn't tell anyone of her meeting with Felicia at the graveyard. Perhaps, she thought, Felicia did it. Then why didn't I bring someone with me? She asked me to come alone…why?

Felicia appeared from behind a tree.

"Hullo Theresa."

"Feli! What's going on?"

"I wanted to show you something. There's someone you should meet."

"Who?" Theresa asked, a thousand terrifying nightmare possibilities playing behind her eyes.

"Look," she said, pointing into the darkness. A tall, thin figure appeared. "The master!"

Burns emerged from the darkness, his face a long-nosed skull in the moonlight. Theresa began to step away, but the fear was too much, and she froze to the spot. Burns came up to her; her brushed her cheeks with his skeletal hands. Theresa shivered. Felicia hung back, her eyes wide and her mouth slightly open. Burns tilted her head to the left, holding it in his hand. He looked over at Felicia, grinning. Her opened his mouth, unhinging the jaw like a serpent. His lisp retracted; his fangs grew. His eyes glowed blood red as he moved in. Theresa screamed, kicked and whimpered. Burns drank. Felicia steadied herself against a tree. Theresa dropped to her knees. Burns stopped. He held up his hand palm up, and drew his long, clawed fingertip across its surface. Dark, cold blood came to the surface. He held it before Theresa's nose. She shuddered. He seized the back of her head and pressed it to the blood. He rubbed the bloody palm over her lips. She was crying. Satisfied, he tilted her head back, bit down once more, and drank until her head slowed.

At the Quimby home, Janet Letoille, Fred Quimby's wife, rushed to and fro, calling for her daughter. Her husband's car pulled up in the driveway.

"Er, eh, what's goin' awn?" he awsked…sorry, he asked (stupid infectious dialect).

"Theresa isn't here!"

"Where is she?"

"I don't know!"

"Well, uh, don't panic. She could be out with Johnny!"

"I called him! He hasn't seen her since school ended!"

John Quimby pulled up outside the house.

"Johnny!" Freddy called from the door.

"Er, eh, whatdya want?"

"We hawven't seen your sista! Look out, in the back, see if see has fallen asleep in the, uh, treehouse!"

"Er, fine!" he said. He tromped out to the backyard.

The Quimby home had once been but one of the houses the family owned in town, but financial circumstances required them to liquidate their assets. Now, former mayor's son lived in one of their old houses, and the ex-mayor lived in his penthouse apartment.

"Theresah! Get your arse down from there!"

There was a fluttering sound behind him that made John Quimby jump.

"Here I am, brother!" she whispered airily.

John entered the house through the back door. He walked through the kitchen into the sitting room. His mother was lying on the couch, arm over her eyes, a cold compress on her forehead, while his father paced back and forth.

"Well, was she out there, or should I, um, call the police?"

John said nothing, but moved in closer.

"Er, um, what's going on. What's so funny?"

John raised his hand, a meat cleaver clenched in his hand. He brought it down on his father's head. Janet heard a muffled gasp and a thud. She tried to sit up, but felt a great weight upon her chest. She felt a hands around her wrists. She opened her eyes, a saw two gleaming red eyes looking back. John watched in horror. Her felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned, but saw no one. When he turned back, he saw his sister. Her eyes were yellow, catlike. Her face contorted, her features became fierce and bestial. She opened her mouth, revealing long, canine fangs. John managed only a "Oh…"

"The Second!"