Hey everyone!
First off, thank you all for the reviews! Secondly...we are now beginning the end. This chapter is part one of the ending and for issues due to length and the fact that you all would probably tear your eyes out if I had not seperated the ending into two seperate chapters is why I have seperated the ending. The second half will be up in a couple of days. I need to re-write sections and all that fun stuff but never fear. And then after that the epilogue and then finito. (But I do have a little surprise for all of you at the end of this story) My god, I've just realized that it has almost been a full year since I started this story and nowI am so very close to finishing it. Well dear reader, let us finish this journey together just like we started it.
Happy Reading!
Now every vampire buff on this planet knows what happens at the end of The Lost Boys right? You wouldn't be sitting here listening to me ramble on if you didn't. But what happens in the film is only a quarter of what really went on that night and let me tell you my dear, there is a whole lot more to it than just a bathtub full of holy water, a couple of amateur vampire hunters and a beat up pick-up truck playing La Cucaracha. Honestly do you really think that it was that easy? I'm sure you are all nodding in agreement with me because when it comes down to it, it takes a whole lot more to kill off a vampire and here they were dealing with three. Mind you like I said before, no one is perfect and the boys really screwed up royally. How many times have I told them to never ever underestimate their opponent? Well that night Paul wasn't thinking straight due to the fact that he woke up with Marko's blood splattered all over the walls of the sleeping nook and that little twerp, what's his name…Sam, got really lucky. BUT if David had originally stuck to the plan none of this would have happened.
Sometimes I wonder if people ever listen to a word I say. David didn't, my children don't, neither does my husband half the time and the list just goes on and on. And I'm rambling again! I'm sorry. Ok, so you want to know about what really happened the night the Lost Boys died? Well, it all began when an unexpected visitor showed up on my doorstep around seven o'clock that evening.
"Boys via manga! Figaro, Elvis! Dinner time! Don't make me call you again!" Fay shouted from the kitchen as she grabbed a can opener and began to work the lid of a can of Friskies Beef and Liver cat food. Two bowls, one red and one blue with the names of the two cats painted along the sides, sat on the kitchen counter already half filled with dry cat food and as Fay went about preparing the cats dinners, the expecting felines were nowhere to be seen.
"So help me if those two don't get their furry tails in here on the count of three I'm throwing this out!" Fay growled to herself as she grabbed a spoon and carved half the tin into the red bowl and the other half into the blue one. Yawning behind the back of her hand, she blinked owlishly and peered up at the mobile Felix the Cat clock, taking note that it was five to seven. The sun would set around 7:45 and that's when she would catch the bus down to the Boardwalk to find out how things were going. It had been a few days since the initial set up and Fay was anxious to know how everything was playing out. David and the others knew exactly what had to be done and she was certain that they wouldn't muck things up. This was their one chance to get rid of Max once and for all and she made dead sure that each vampire knew it, especially David. She had broken her good wooden spoon over his thick skull during their last "war council" and she knew that her sacrifice would not be in vain. Good wooden sugo spoons were few and far between and what was an Italian cook without her faithful wooden spoon?
"Ok, that's it. ONE! TWO!..."Fay yelled as she slammed the empty tin can down on the counter with a hollow "tang" and just as she was about to yell three the sounds of running paws was heard along with a crash of broken pottery and a surprised screech. Moments later Figaro darted in through the cat flap that Fay had installed on the kitchen door and leapt neatly onto the kitchen counter, tail arched in a question mark as if he was asking what was for dinner. Yet before Figaro could begin to stuff his face Fay grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and hoisted up him so that he was standing on his hind legs and speared him with a look.
"What did you do to Elvis?" She asked him and even Figaro's best suck-up expression didn't phase her a bit. Lucky for the tabby, Elvis decided to make his grand appearance when he did or else Fay would have really let him have it. Ever since Dwayne and Paul had given Fay the black kitten, Figaro had been trying his very best to either kill the kitten or chase it off. And now that a few months have past and Elvis was no longer the little fuzz ball that he had been, Figaro resigned to the fact that the black cat was here to stay and had dedicated his waking hours to making Elvis' life as miserable as possible. The funny thing is Elvis didn't seem to mind. In fact he liked the attention oddly enough. He was the classic case of all fur and no brains and Fay wasn't the only one to realize this.
Elvis let out a gruff meow as he shook himself, sending potting soil flying in all directions. Fay sighed and gave Figaro a disapproving look, one that he seemed to wilt under, before she scooped him up and plopped him down on the floor. Muttering to herself she grabbed the two bowls and placed the red one by the counter and then the blue one near the fridge. Once the cats started eating away like a pair of miniature horses, Fay tossed the empty can into the garbage and walked out of the kitchen and into the living room where she flopped down on the loveseat, massaging her forehead with her right hand.
"I asked him for cats. Not dogs. And what does he bring me? A dead dog." She muttered in a tired voice as she looked over at the coffee table where the still form of a stuffed Pekinese sat, staring glassy eyed at the wall in front of it. She was a cat lady, not a dog lady. She had a cousin who had a fetish for canines but thankfully she didn't inherit that gene.
"What am I going to do with a dead dog?" She moaned out loud before she grabbed a pillow and buried her face into it with a huff. For the past couple of days Fay had been trying to see if she had inherited any of her aunt's talent in bringing the dead back to life and so far all she had managed to do was resurrect a mouse, one that Elvis promptly ate when it started to move, and bring back mobility to a stuffed badger for a few minutes. However none of this seemed very promising and Fay had a sneaking suspicion that she would have better results if her test subject was of the feline family. Hopefully the next time she saw Henry Emerson, he would be kind enough to remember her request and bring her a stuffed cat. Right now she would have been happy with road kill.
"Maow?" Elvis' deep meow announced his presence as he rubbed up against the couch, his thick black tail flicking this way and that, wanting to be the center of Fay's attention. Over the past few months the tiny little puffball that was Elvis had certainly grown to be a very large puffball and despite the fact that he was now bigger than Figaro, Fay knew that he was going to end up being the size of a small dog by the time he finished growing.
"What is it Elvis?" Fay muttered from behind the pillow as the cat placed his paws on the couch and nudged the pillow with his nose, trying to get her attention. When Fay didn't move, Elvis licked his lips and crouched down, his yellow eyes glinting as he sprang onto Fay with a loud meow.
"Elvis you idiot! Mamma is trying to sleep!" Fay cursed as the cat landed on her stomach, nearly knocking the wind out of her. Elvis just sneezed as he walked around on Fay, trying to find a comfortable spot to curl up in. Instead what he got was a smack in the face from Figaro as the cat sailed in from the kitchen, leaping onto the arm of the loveseat before pouncing on the black cat. Squealing and hissing, the two cats tumbled off of Fay and onto the floor and in order to break up the fight Fay had to resort to throwing a pillow at them.
"Stop it! I swear you two are no better than Dwayne and Paul! I can't even get a moments rest in my own home!" She hissed at them, sending Elvis scurrying behind the couch while Figaro just sat there, licking his paw as if nothing had happened.
Ding dong.
Figaro looked up from what he was doing to look over at the front door as the doorbell rung once more. Talk about perfect timing.
"Does it ever end?" Fay muttered out-loud as she hoisted herself up off the love seat and made her way over to the front door, cursing the fact that she had left her cane up in her bedroom. As Fay began to unlock the multiple newly installed locks on her door, Elvis cautiously peeked out from his hiding spot, only to duck back again when Figaro hissed at him. Running a hand through her hair, Fay cautiously pulled back the last deadbolt and slowly cracked open the door, peering out to see who it was.
"The Widow Johnson I presume." Henry Emerson, better known as Grandpa Emerson, said gleefully as he gave Fay a formal half bow. Figaro meowed in question as he stuck his head out of the crack by Fay's leg, looking up at Grandpa with a curious expression on his furry face.
"Henry, what are you doing here?" Fay asked quietly as she opened the door a little wider and stuck her own head out, looking left and right to see if there was anyone watching. Aside from Grandpa Emerson's motley truck that was parked by the curb, there was nothing out of place in the pristine suburb, which was a good thing. Before Grandpa could say another word, Fay grabbed him and hauled him inside before she slammed the door shut behind him and quickly started to relock it. Grandpa stood off to the side, eyebrow arched as he watched Fay work on the eight different locks before he looked down at Figaro who was sniffing his shoe.
"You're not supposed to come here tonight Henry, why the surprise visit?" Fay asked him when she finished with the door and turned to face him as Elvis came padding out from the living room to see who the visitor was.
"Surprise visit eh? Sam told me that you had called and that I was supposed to pick the "Widow Johnson" up at seven instead of eight. Found it mighty interesting seeing that I didn't have the cat done yet." Henry said as he idly scratched his chin while Figaro and Elvis looked at one another and stepped away from the old man.
"Call you? I never called you." Fay said, a frown suddenly appearing on her face as an uneasy feeling suddenly swept over her. Grandpa Emerson caught the sudden change in her expression and arched an eyebrow.
"So it seems my grandson lied to me. be something to do with those two kids Sam and Michael brought home today." Grandpa said with a casual shrug before he took a slight step back when Fay speared him with a god-awful glare.
"What two kids?" She asked him as she nodded towards the kitchen. Knowing better than to do otherwise, Grandpa Emerson lead the way and sat down at the kitchen table as Fay sat on his left. Figaro jumped up onto a chair on the other side of the old man and sat as well, his thin tail curled daintily around his paws as if waiting to hear what news the old man had to offer. If this strange behavior surprised Grandpa, he didn't show it. After all Fay was a witch and her cats were going to be a cut above the average mouser. Fay's grandmother, Eleanor Prima had been an old friend of his when she was alive and Henry Emerson had gotten a first hand experience of what that woman could do with animals so this was nothing.
"Well, lessee. While I was putting in the new fence Sam and Michael took the car around one and came back a little after two. This time they had a girl and a little boy with them. Oh and those two commando boys were with them." Grandpa Emerson said as he sat back in his chair, totally at ease with the situation, while Fay seemed to grow more anxious by the second.
"Is that it?" Fay asked him, looking at Grandpa and then up at the clock, checking the time once again.
"Yeah, that seems about all there is…wait there is one other thing." He said, suddenly remembering something that he had noticed when he had come across his grandkids and their friends a few hours before. Fay gave Grandpa a sharp look, but the old man either didn't see it or just ignored it. He was a tough old salt and not some jumpy greenhorn after all. "From the looks of it, it looked like they got into a serious scrap with a vampire. Sam and his friends were covered in blood and I don't think it was Max that they finished off, seeing that Lucy went off to his place to have dinner with the guy." Grandpa Emerson said, practically spitting the last words as if they left a foul taste in his mouth. Fay sat there stone faced for a few minutes, digesting what the old man had said before she came to the inevitable conclusion. The Emerson boys and their friends must have gotten access to the cave and somehow made their way into the elevator shaft that David and the others used as a sleeping nook during the day. That meant that one of the boys was dead.
Fay swallowed hard as she rose from the table, shaking her head when Grandpa Emerson gave her a curious look. Figaro instantly jumped down from his chair and ran from the kitchen while Fay excused herself for a minute and followed in her cat's wake, leaving Grandpa and Elvis to keep each other company for the time being. Hurrying to the bathroom, Fay dashed inside and closed the door as quietly as she could while Figaro jumped up on the bathroom counter, pacing in circles as he meowed his concern. Fay looked at her cat for a moment before she rested her back against the door and breathed in deeply, trying to fight back the overwhelming wave of panic that was rising like the tide.
"Who is it Fig? Who did they kill?" Fay asked as she breathed in again and closed her eyes, slowly calming herself while she tried to clear her mind Think Fay, think and breathe. Who was it? Who? Which one is lying dead in the cave? Just think….think….Fay slowly let out another deep breath as she forced all thoughts out of her head and focused on the boys, visualizing each one in her mind as she slowly delved deeper into her psyche, digging deep down in order to find the answer. Figaro stood stock still in anticipation as he get his eyes glued on Fay's face, waiting to see what her reaction would be. Fay's composer crumbled when she saw Marko fall from his perch with a wooden stake rammed through his chest as the last moments of his undead life flashed across her mind. Figaro's alarmed mewls went unnoticed as Fay let out a pained whine and slowly sunk to the bathroom floor, doing her best to hold back a howl of anguish as she curled into a ball, shaking uncontrollably in silence.
This wasn't supposed to happen! He wasn't supposed to die! No one but Max was supposed to die! What went wrong? Why did this happen? Why Marko? Why? Why?
Fay repeated this mantra over and over in her head as she fought for control. She couldn't crack now, she couldn't come undone. Not when they were this close. Something had gone terribly wrong and if Fay didn't do something about it now, the whole plan as well as the rest of the boys could be in jeopardy. Now was not the time to give into grief. Now was the time to pay Max back for all of this, pay him back tenfold and make him suffer like they had suffered. Now was the time to act god damn it! They had not come this far to fail and they would not fail, not as long as one of them still lived. Figaro nudged Fay and continued to meow frantically when she slowly stopped shaking and relaxed, unmoving for a few moments before she opened her eyes. Figaro peered up at her face, one that did not show a spec of the grief that was locked away inside, and knew that something big was about to happen, something really big.
Fay blinked once before she grabbed a hold of the bathroom counter and hoisted herself back onto her feet. When she glanced at her reflection in the mirror, all she could see was the cold hard resolve that glinted like flint in her eyes and taking that into account, she turned and opened the bathroom door, striding out into the hallway with her head held high while looking like she was ready to wage war against the world. Instead of the world, that war would be waged against a certain vampire whose days were defiantly numbered and one did not have to be psychic to realize it.
"I'm guessin' that this is gonna be a long night?" Grandpa Emerson asked off-handedly when he saw the look on Fay's face as he closed the refrigerator door and popped open a bottle of cola that he had decided to help himself to. When Fay didn't respond, Grandpa just shrugged to himself and took a swing from the bottle as Fay hurried up the stairs and stormed into her bedroom, the door slamming shut with a echoing bang.
"A word from the wise my furry friend, never piss off one of the Primas. Heh, it'll be the last thing you ever do." Grandpa Emerson said to Elvis as the cat looked up at him and meowed in agreement.
"Now lessee what else she has around here to eat. You hungry?" He asked the cat as he began to rummage through the cabinets in search for something to snack on. Well, if he was going to be up all night while attempting to kill the head vampire he figured that Fay wouldn't mind if he raided her larder.
While Grandpa Emerson was busy in the kitchen, Fay moved about her room like a woman possessed, ripping of her clothes and throwing on new ones as she grabbed the frame of the Elvis portrait that hung beside her dresser and moved it gently to the side, revealing a small safe that was set into the wall.
"Figaro, I want you and Elvis to hurry and find as many cats as you can. You have twenty minutes to get them here. It's high time that we repay Max for what he and his devil dog did to the others." She said to Figaro as she quickly turned the dial on the safe, fingering in the release code while Figaro mewled an affirmative and turned to leave but stopped when he saw that the door was closed. Arching his tail into a question mark, he looked over his shoulder at Fay and didn't have to say a word because as he did so the wooden door suddenly swung open on its own accord. Without another sound the gray tabby bolted from the bedroom and raced down the stairs, jumping the last three as he meowed for Elvis to join him at once. Realizing that this wasn't some sort of prank, Elvis jumped down from the counter where Grandpa Emerson had been feeding him pieces of anchovies and ran after Figaro, vanishing through the cat flap as the two cats raced around the house, Figaro dashing off across the lawn while Elvis leapt the wooden fence and took off in the opposite direction in a race against time.
"Wonder what's gotten into them?" Grandpa muttered to himself as he peered out the kitchen window to see the two cats run off. He looked down at the half finished anchovy in his hand and with a small shrug popped the small fish into his mouth as he began to make himself a make-shift sandwich with whatever Fay had in her fridge and cupboards. Half-way across the downtown core of Santa Carla, action in the Emerson house had doubled as Michael arose as the sun slowly started to set and rushed around the house along with Sam and the two Frog brothers, the four boys hurrying to reinforce the house before David and the others came a-calling. Along the rocky coast about twenty minutes opposite the Emerson household, Lucy carefully made her way up the wooden walkway of Max's house, adjusting her shawl as she cautiously peered about in the growing shadows, fearful of confronting the hulking white form of Max's guard dog. When she made it to Max's front door unscathed, Lucy breathed a sigh of relief as she raised her hand and rang the doorbell just as her son Michael was bolting the doors and windows of their home, while deep within the hidden cave the three remaining vampires slept on as the sun neared the horizon line and began to sink out of sight.
"So what do we plan on doing now? The whole fire and pitchfork routine or are we going to go along with something more subtle, like a .45 caliber bullet between the eyes? He'd be just as dead without a head than with a stake through his heart and this is my own good suit, would be a shame if I ruined it." Grandpa Emerson said out-loud as he brushed off the remains of his triple-decker Emerson supreme off of his beard and looked towards the stairs to see if Fay had heard him. "Fay?" He called out once more and as before, he did not get a response. Frowning, the old man headed towards the stairs and quietly made his way down the second floor hallway as he sniffed the air, picking up the smell of burning incense that was coming from what had to be the master bedroom. Grandpa Emerson stopped just outside the bedroom door and as quietly as he could, he turned the door handle and opened the door a crack, cautiously peering in to see if Fay was all right. What he saw was Fay kneeling on the floor before what appeared to be a make-shift alter of some sort, murmuring something under her breath as she held aloft her jaguar handled cane, as if offering it to whatever god she was praying to. Sitting upon the alter were two hand-carved statues that looked like they could probably be dated back a good three thousand years, both Egyptian in design and figure. From what he could see, both statues were female but one had what had to be a lionesses head on its body while the other had the head of a cat. Unable to take his eyes off what he was seeing, Grandpa Emerson watched as Fay lowered the cane and slowly slid the hidden blade out of the wooden shaft before she held the sword cane over the smoldering incense and softly chanted something over and over again in a language that he couldn't make out. When he realized what was going on, Grandpa Emerson quietly closed the door once more and shook his head. Ah well, what can you do? Sighing to himself, Grandpa Emerson made his way back down the hallway and decided that he would wait until Fay finished up with whatever voodoo mumbo jumbo that she was doing before he asked her what exactly was going to happen tonight. For now he would content himself with reading the T.V. guide.
As the minutes ticked by, the western sun sank further and further into the horizon until there was nothing left but the pale pink sky that signaled in the beginning of the evening twilight. The crashing of neither the incoming surf nor the intense electric hum that was coming from the boardwalk seemed to penetrate the solemn silence that hung throughout the hodgepodge conglomeration that was the vampires' cave, while hanging upside down, David, Dwayne and Paul slowly started to regain consciousness. Inside each of the boys' heads, the dying screams of their blood brother echoed as loudly as they had hours before and David was the first one to awaken, a blood-curdling scream filling both the blood covered shaft and the cave as he released his hold on the rail and plummeted to the ground. A split-second later Paul and Dwayne snapped awake, shrieking their own curses and rage as they launched themselves after David, swooping up into the tightly packed corridor tunnel that connected the sleeping shaft with the main cave. The mummified remains of what had once been Marko only added fuel to their already mounting fury and as the three remaining vampires soared out of the cave Paul unleashed a howl that sounded out above the loud music of the boardwalk and for a few seconds all the people who heard it shuddered in unison before going back to doing whatever it was that was occupying their time.
"I KILL THEM! I'LL KILL THEM ALL!" Paul bellowed, his vampire visage unmistakable in the mulitcoloured light that glittered from the boardwalk and for a moment it looked as if he had truly lost all forms of sanity. For once Dwayne did not contradict him for he too was foaming at the mouth in anger at the injustice that had been done to Marko. Those fucking brats were too cowardly to fight them face to face so they attempted to pick them off while they were defenseless. Max or no Max, Fay or no Fay, Michael's twerp of a brother was going to pay for Marko's death with his own god-damn blood!
"You two head for the house. Kill them but leave Michael to me!" David barked above the howling wind as he banked to the left, going south-east instead of north-east. Dwayne growled darkly as he flew past David and nudged Paul on the proper course because at that moment Paul was too infuriated to even see straight much less fly in the right direction. Whatever David was planning was his business. Right now he and Paul had dish out some serious payback and they were going to enjoy every damn minute of it. While Dwayne and Paul shot off in the direction of the Emerson house, David made a bee-line for Max's place, keeping just above the tree line for maximum cover as he scanned the roads, hoping to intercept the beat-up old station wagon that Michael's mother drove. Wouldn't it really stick it to Max if the only part of his infatuation to arrive to "dinner" was her head? Yet whether it was by some sick coincidence or just sheer luck, Lucy had left work early and made it to Max's house before the designated arrival time and by the time David got there, she was already inside, safe and sound.
"Die!" David snarled in his head as he sent Max that one word through the reinforced mental link that the two of them shared as he circled the house. Somewhere inside he heard Thorn bark in warning but that stupid mutt couldn't stop him even if it tried. Tonight was going to be the night that Max's world came crashing down around his ears and if he and the others died because of it, well then they would just have to take him with them. No more playing games, no more skulking in shadows while plotting behind his back. Tonight David was going to make Max rue the day that he ever decided to come to Santa Carla while he painted the place red with the blood of Marko's killers.
Meanwhile, sitting casually at the dinning table, Max offered Lucy a reassuring smile as she delved into great detail about what her son Sam had done that after noon, going on about how her son was convinced that there were vampires that were after him. Max feigned interest while he quickly tried to think of an excuse that would enable him to get over to Lucy's father's place in order to prevent David from pulling off something that Max knew he wasn't going to like. That boy was asking to get himself killed and for Max enough was enough. He had a pretty good idea as to what David might try to pull and knew that if he didn't act soon, all of his planning, plotting and subtle coaxing will have been for nothing. And he couldn't have that now could he?
"You know Lucy, after hearing about Sam's latest escapades; I cannot help but blame myself for all of this. Clearly your son considers me as some sort of threat and I would hate to put the relationship that you and Sam have in jeopardy. So I was wondering that after dinner, would you mind if I drove us to your house and had a talk with Sam? I would just like the chance to show him that by no means am I trying to steal you away from him. Maybe after he has gotten the chance to know me a little he'll begin to understand that I am not the scary boogey man that he seems to think I am." Max said calmly as he placed his fork down and looked over at Lucy. For a moment Lucy did not know what to say, but when she realized what Max was trying to do, she gave him a beaming smile as she reached over and laid her hand over his.
"Would you really do that?" Lucy asked, completely captivated by his kindness and selfless personality. Max smiled softly as he laid his other hand over hers as he gave her his most charming look, one that seemed to melt her like butter.
"Of course I would Lucy. It would be my pleasure." He reassured her, taking her hand and gallantly kissed it. Lucy's smile seemed to light up the room and when Max looked up at her he could practically see the stars shining in her eyes. After all this time he certainly did not loose his way with women, that much was certain.
Back at Fay's house half an hour had come and gone and still Figaro and Elvis had not returned. Grandpa Emerson was debating on whether or not he should venture back upstairs and interrupt Fay in whatever it was that she was doing but in the end he didn't have to because the sound of Fay's footsteps was easily heard coming down the stairs.
"We all set?" Grandpa Emerson asked as he rose from the couch as Fay appeared in the doorway of the living room with her cane in hand and a knitted sweater draped over her shoulders. For a minute there Grandpa Emerson could have sworn that it was Fay's grandmother standing there instead of Fay because the two suddenly seemed to look so much alike, but when he looked closer, he realized that it must have been his eyes playing tricks on him.
"We're going to Max's house first." Fay said as she eyed the clock on her wall, checking to make sure that she had the right time.
"Max's house? Why the hell do we want to go there?" Grandpa Emerson asked as Fay crossed the room, cane in hand as she went over to the living room windows and peered between the drapes to check something outside.
"We don't." Fay replied as she grabbed her keys off of a side table and made her way over to the front door. In no time the multiple locks were unlocked and when she opened the door to let Grandpa Emerson go out first, what he saw waiting for them on the front lawn made him stop dead in his tracks. Cats….everywhere there were cats. All colours, shapes and sizes. To Grandpa it looked like half the cats of Santa Carla were sitting out in front of Fay's house, waiting for something to happen.
"They do." Fay said to him as she pushed him gently out of the way and stepped out of the house, closing the door behind her. Figaro and Elvis trotted up the front steps as Fay began to lock up the house and looked up at her seemingly very pleased with how their combined efforts had paid off.
"My god, it looks like a scene out of The Birds but only this time there are cats. Where'd they all come from?" Grandpa Emerson whispered to Fay, afraid of raising his voice just incase he accidentally set the cats off or something. There was something very surreal and unnerving about having over 30 cats watching your every move and the old man was certain that they weren't all here because they had nothing better to do. Whatever Fay was planning, he was sure that it was going to be big.
"I have a lot of friends Henry. It's just that most of them are the four legged kind." Fay said as she finished locking up her house and pocketed the keys. Figaro and Elvis brushed up against Fay's legs before scooting off of the porch to join the rest of the cat crowd that was waiting for Fay's signal. As Henry watched on in utter astonishment, Fay made her way off of the porch and straight into the middle of the group, the cats in her path moving out of the way almost if she were Moses parting the Red Sea. Never before had he seen such a thing.
"You know what Henry? I remember telling a friend once that the only difference between the Wicked Witch of the West and myself was that she had flying monkeys while I had cats. I guess it's true." Fay said as she turned around to face Grandpa Emerson, nodding for him to come off the porch and join her. "Also, I don't melt as easily." She chuckled softly to herself as a small, tired smile appeared on her face. Dozens of gleaming eyes looked up at her from all directions as the cats rose to their feet, waiting to see what Fay would do next. Fay looked down at the multitude of cats for a moment, frowning slightly as she debated about something in her mind, but in the end she nodded slightly to herself.
"Maorrroaw mereer!" She meowed loudly to the cats, letting her gaze sweep over them all as she rotated on the spot in order to see them.
"MERROW!" The cats mewled in unison as they lifted their tails into the air and ran to Fay, rubbing up against her, purring and meowing as they tried to get close. Elvis butted his way to her side while the ever slick Figaro launched himself into the air and Fay caught him easily as she hugged him to her chest.
"You want to help me load them into your truck?" Fay asked Grandpa Emerson as he just stared as the strange scene played out before him. Instead of reply, the old man just nodded his head and carefully made his way over to his truck, trying his best not to step on any of Fay's little army. It took a couple of minutes but he and Fay had the cats loaded onto the back of the truck safe and sound as well as having a few ride up front with the two of them. Grumbling to himself, Grandpa started the truck and carefully pulled away from the curb while Ellen Grisham watched them leave from her living room window.
"That Henry Emerson is up to no good again." She muttered to her husband as Frank sat in his lazy boy, reading the evening paper and going his very best to ignore his wife's mutterings.
"Oh will you get away from that window Ellen? Whatever Henry is up to is his own business not yours." Frank growled as he pushed his reading glasses further up along the bridge of his nose as he turned the page of his paper. If prying into other people's lives was an Olympic sport, his wife would be a three-time gold medalist.
"Oh really. So when vampires come barging into our house next time, then it will be our business?" Ellen snapped as she closed the living room drapes and turned to give her husband a scathing look. "I remember the last time when you and Henry got mixed up in all that riff-raff blood-sucking nonsense! And now he's got Fay helping him. Will it ever end!" Ellen exclaimed, waving her hands into the air for extra emphasis but the only reaction she got out of Frank was a loud "harrumph!"
"If there is anyone who can hold their own against vampires Ellen, it's those two. We knew Fay's grandmother and we know Henry. Aged leather isn't as half as tough that old coot and Fay's got all those damn cats. They'll be fine." Frank muttered as he closed his paper and grabbed a pen from his shirt pocket as he began to work out the daily crossword puzzle. Ellen kept her eyes on him before she sat back down in her rocking chair and picked up her knitting and the old couple fell into a shaky silence as Ellen's metal knitting needles clicked away in time with the ticking of their old grandfather clock.
It took little over forty minutes for Henry to pull up in Max's long driveway and when he did so, he just shook his head and looked over at Fay. Sitting smack-dab along the edges of the driveway were a dozen or so more cats but the only difference between these cats and the ones that were sprawled all over his truck were that these cats were covered in scars, skinny as rails and scruffy looking. And the scruffiest and skinniest of them all was none other than Tomfoolery, sitting on fence as calm as can be with his crooked tail swaying from side to side like a pendulum.
"Let me guess…they're yours?" Grandpa Emerson said as he looked over at Fay with a raised eyebrow. Fay returned the look with one of her own and she just shrugged nonchalantly before planting a kiss on the back of Figaro's stripped head.
"They are the friends of a few friends." She said as she opened the side door and waited until all the other cats had jumped out before she carefully stepped out of the raised truck, using her cane to steady herself as she did so. Grandpa Emerson just snorted and let himself out as Fay moved to the back of the truck and started to help some of the cats down while the others just leapt onto the gravel drive, ears perked forward as they looked around cautiously. Grandpa Emerson looked around carefully, taking note that his daughter's car was still here but Max's flashy red corvette was nowhere to be found.
"So how are we going to kill Max? How do we even know he's here?" He asked Fay as he stepped to the side as the cats began to mile around his feet as they started towards the white fence, tails held high and fur puffed out as they picked up the indistinguishable scent of a canine on the premise.
"We're not here to kill Max. We're here to kill someone else." Fay replied as she headed towards the gate with the forty or so cats padding behind her like rats following the Pied Piper, barely making a single sound. Fay stopped when she came up to Tom and Grandpa Emerson just stood back and watched as the two seemed to converse for a moment in a way that he didn't understand and nor did he want to. So instead he just crossed his arms over his chest and leaned against the rusty hood of his trusty truck and decided that he'd sit this round out.
"Thanks Tom." Fay said as she ruffled her familiar's ears before she reached down and unlatched the wooden gate and swung it inwards. No one moved as the gate banged loudly against the wooden fence, everyone waiting to see what would happen when their presence was finally noticed and they didn't have to wait long. A booming bark erupted from behind a potted shrub as Thorn came running pell-mell from the backyard, growling and barking in warning as his gold and silver dog tags jingled with each step. Max's hellhound skidded to a stop in front of the front door as he lowered his head and pressed his ears back, growling loudly as the fur along his spine bristled. Instead of backing off, Fay just looked the dog in the eye and smiled, giving him a toothy grin that set him off like a lit fuse. With his eyes flashing dangerously, the vicious dog came galloping towards Fay, drool flying in strings as he bared his teeth and snapped at the air, barking like mad. Stupid dog.
"Raaaarrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr," Figaro growled as he planted himself in front of Fay, his sleek coat standing on end as he pressed his ears back and hissed at Thorn. He had not forgotten what that damn devil dog had done to Fat Cat and the others or what he had almost done to him. Tomfoolery stepped up beside Figaro, standing tall as he glared down his scarred nose with his one eye, sneering as Thorn came pounding forward like a thunderbolt. Elvis, who had never seen a hellhound much less met Thorn, would not be left out and sprang into position on Figaro's right, his thick tail wagging back and forth as he hissed and spat for all he was worth. Three prissy housecats against one angry hellhound was no match and Thorn closed the gap between himself and the cats, hell-bent on tearing fur from flesh but whoever said that cats were smarter than dogs were damn well right.
"It's payback time mutt." Tom meowed in feline as Thorn let out a shuddering snarl and launched himself at Fay and the three cats, jaws held wide as he aimed for a lethal bite.
RAAAAAAARRRRRRRRR!
REEEEAAAAAAAARRRRRRROOOOOOOWWWWW!
HISSSSSSSSSSSSSS!
MEEEEERRRRRRRRR!
The fur flew. Thorn never made it to Figaro, Tom and Elvis. When he went airborne so did forty other cats and the hellhound was knocked backwards, paws over tail under a wall of fur and claws as Tom lead the charge once again, leading the cats to battle against the greatly hated hound of hell. Fay backed away a few steps as she and Henry watched the cats literally rip the hound to pieces, neither of them saying a single word. Tom hung gamely off of Thorn's left ear, shredding it to ribbons with the other alley cats went for the neck and stomach, clawing, scratching and biting while Figaro and the housecats ripped the fur out of Thorn's tail and ravaged his unprotected backside with their claws. It was vicious, it was brutal and it was bloody. Soon the walkway was littered with the torn bodies of cats as well as carpeted with Thorn's white fur and blood, but no matter how viciously the dog fought, the cats attacked twice has hard and three times as savagely. The utter hate and loathing that was shared between the animals was plain to see and the fact that these animals could hate one another so deeply was really unnerving. A few minutes into the battle, Thorn slipped in a puddle of his own blood and went down hard on his muzzle and when that happened the cats swarmed all over him, using their combined weight to keep him pinned to the wooden boards. Once he was down, he never got back up.
"Fay, a bunch of cats may be able to kill a hellhound, but they won't be able to kill a head vampire." Grandpa Emerson said as he turned away from the grizzly scene and looked over at Fay, whose eyes were glued onto the writhing mass that was what was left of Max's loathsome companion.
"We'll see." Was all she said.