Holy snot. The troubles I've had trying to post this chapter are ridiculous. Anyway, this one's a little longer than the others but it's pretty intensive. I've also figured out a convenient posting schedule. Considering I type in my WIPs at the end of the month, I figured I might as well do this too, get it all done in a day, especially since this has fallen to a monthly update schedule anyway. So from now on, look for an update around the last weekend of the month. It's the best time for me.

In my profile I've proposed what I think is a neat idea for a kind of fanfiction database for Lost Boys stories. Go take a look and let me know what you think. It starts with the paragraph with the bolded first sentence.

And be sure to vote in my poll while you're there! There are only four more chapters left of ATTWT and I'm roughly halfway through writing the final story of the series. Once that ends, I'm taking the poll down and starting on the first history. Right now Dwayne's and Paul's histories are tied. If you want, vote more than once! I don't mind! Just vote! It'll make me happy.

xXx

"Smoke

14

"Smoke?"

Marko nodded.

"Smoke."

"Smoke. You know, comes before a fire, gray in color. Well, I guess a better term would be mist but that's only technical."

"Smoke."

"Look, you were worried about getting in undetected. This is the best way."

"Yes, because a phantom puff of smoke migrating towards the elevator is inconspicuous."

"Do you plan on having a lot of people around?"

"No, it's after hours. He's usually one of the last to leave the building at night. It's when he actually gets some work done."

"It'll work perfectly then. Up the side of the building and in through the window."

"You say it like I've turned to smoke before . . ."

Marko rolled his eyes at her. "It's easier than flying. Trust me."

"I've never seen you do it before."

"None of us do it very often but we can all do it."

Detta sighed and looked over at the television screen. Some prime time show was wending its way across the clock but she couldn't have cared less. She was thinking just how she wanted to do it, how she wanted him to die, and every time the thought of laying her hands on him and drinking from his veins crossed her mind, it revolted her. He was too tainted for that. The notion that Marko repeated early about vampires being able to do funny things with human minds kept coming back to her. She wondered just what she could make him do. That is, if the very sight of his supposedly dead employee doesn't give him a heart attack first.

"Here," Marko snapped her out of her daze and Detta turned her head to face him, blinking moisture back into her eyes. "Just imagine yourself dispersing."

Detta watched as the form of Marko dissolved into nothing more than a sheer mist that was able to move at will. It traveled from her feet over the carpet, up onto a chair, down onto a table, across the unmade bed and into the bathroom. Sure, he made it look effortless but he did that with flying as well and that was something she still hadn't mastered yet.

"See? It's really easy," Marko's voice, acoustic in the tiled bathroom, echoed out to her. She walked over to the door and stood in the frame, staring at him as he sat on the sink. "It's an odd feeling. You'll see but I'm telling you, it'll work. Try it. Just think of dispersing."

"Easy for you to say."

"Would you cut the shit and just do it?"

Detta glared at him before shutting her eyes. She wondered just how one was supposed to imagine oneself dispersing, whether if it was more like disintegrating or fading. Then she felt it, an odd sensation throughout her entire body. It almost felt as if she were floating, weightless. She opened her eyes and realized she was eye level with the toilet bowl. Her vision was fizzy, as if a film clouded her eyes, yet she could see, or rather sense, perfectly, as if she didn't need fully functioning eyes to get around.

"I told you you could do it."

Marko's voice came to her muffled, sounding almost groggy. There was nothing to lift when she tried raising her hand to her ear, no arm either and nothing it should have been attached to. She did it. Detta made herself mist. She wanted to go back towards the bed and before she knew it, she was facing the other direction and floating at ground level towards it. Instead, she decided to make a detour up the wall—and she did. At the crook of the ceiling she turned, gliding effortlessly across the textured paint splattered against the surface. When she should have been looking upside down, she was looking directly at the bed, as if her back were pressed against the ceiling, at the TV, at Marko as he walked out of the bathroom and watched as he smiled up at her misted self. A smile automatically flashed back to him as she lost all sense of the ceiling and of her vapor form. Next thing she knew, Detta squeaked as she bounced face first onto the bed and then off onto the floor. She sat there for a moment, dazed at the sudden transformation, before Marko reached out a hand and helped her to her feet.

"You break your train of thought, you turn back."

"Thanks for that, Captain Obvious. Is there a better way I can flip back and forth without falling on my face?"

Marko laughed. "Just think about your body again, whole. You'll form back up." He smiled a sly, devious smile at her. "You'd be surprised at just what you can do when you're mist."

"Something we'll have to try?"

"Try," he scoffed. "You won't know what's going on until it's already done," he growled in her ear.

Detta uttered a throaty giggle before bumping him away with her hip. "Not now! We should get going anyway."

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?" Marko asked as he ushered her out the door, locking it behind him.

"I'm sure. I told you, I need to do this alone. Meet me at Coney Island."

"Trading one boardwalk for another, huh?" he chuckled.

"I guess so." Detta smiled back at him.

"The Cyclone in an hour, an hour and a half. I shouldn't be much longer than that. I'll find you."

"Or I'll find you. You sure you want to meet so far away?"

"It's really not that far. I just don't want to get caught."

Marko cocked his eyebrow. "Caught? Detta, according to every human who knew you, you're dead. You even have a cutout of your own obituary on your refrigerator. No one's going to think that you rose from the dead to avenge your asshole boss."

"What if I'm seen?"

"That's why you use the smoke," Marko whispered, his voice barely audible as they passed the front desk. "But regardless, you can more faster than humans can see you. Don't worry. You won't get caught, you won't be seen. You'll be fine. I've never seen you worry like this over any other kill.

She looked into his eyes, her fingers intertwining with his. "This isn't any other kill. Besides, I'm not even going to feed from him. That I can't do, have his blood sloshing around in me." Detta sneered at the thought but quickly wiped the image from her mind and smiled at Marko before kissing him.

She placed a hand on either side of his face and he countered, placing his hands on her hips and pulling her towards him. They remained locked in that position for minutes, the sounds of people's footsteps passing them by carried to their ears but neither moved as the bodies brushed past them. Detta was the first to break the embrace.

"Roller coaster. Coney Island. I'll see you soon."

She walked backwards a few steps, still gripping Marko's hands in hers, before she turned and soldiered off, walking down the nearest side alley and stopped. She turned full circle and opened her ears as much as she could, listening for mortal movement. The only things she could hear were rats scuttling about in the garbage cans and cockroaches zipping along behind them. Red brick and black windows glared down at her when she looked up to survey the building, reassuring herself that her launching pad was absent of human life. Detta stepped into flight, the sound of bats carrying after her as she headed to Midtown, satisfying revenge riddling her mind.

vVv

Alleys. New York was filled with alleys. While mortal that's a bad thing, being a vampire it makes the city all the better. Darkness hides in alleys, one of the reasons why people avoid them. It's fear that causes them to stick as close to the main streets as possible. Better for Detta for so many reasons but tonight at least no one would be able to see her slink up the side of the building, this odd patch of mist defying all laws of nature as it scales its way up the Midtown high-rise, its source unknown. All of the windows were shut when she reached the right floor but no matter. If she couldn't find a crack, there were plenty of air ducts she could make her way into.

Through the haze of her misted eyesight, she saw that she had made it into the office of what she previously knew to be the co-editor. However, it was barren, looking like its occupant vacated not long ago. Dusted outlines of what were picture frames still dressed the wall, the teak desk scratched and obviously used, the chair turned over. Anger. It was residual but Detta could feel it lingering in the air. This man did not leave on good terms. It was a shame, though. She actually liked this guy. His content lingered in the room. Some memories were stronger than the others. He was a good man, would even stand up for her on occasion. That was probably why he left; he was too good of a human being to stay.

Detta's re-formed self walked silently out of the office and across the newsroom to where she knew her editor's office to be. From where she stood, she could see that he wasn't in there. Her heart dropped momentarily until she felt his presence. He hadn't left for the night, just for the moment. She edged towards the office door, her boots scuffling lightly on the ground, and made her way in. It felt oddly familiar, reminiscent, but she only knew that this was where she was supposed to be because it was what her gut told her. She knew the outside to be his office. The inside was nothing more than a distant dream.

She walked over to the desk and started flipping through some papers, general curiosity getting the better of her. On the corner of the desk sat a tattered brown leather journal stuffed with bits of paper. She reached for it and picked it up, careful not to let anything fall out. The cover fell open effortlessly; the worn spine indicating it was heavily used. Random newspaper articles filled the page gaps, scattered notes written on the yellowed paper in between. Something in the back, however, caught her eye. She flipped the journal over and let the back cover fall like the front and there sat a standard obituary. There was a fairly large amount of them stacked in back. She lifted them out of the journal and placed it back on the desk, wanting to get a closer look at the clippings. All of the faces in the pictures were vague to her. She knew she might know them but was at a loss for who they actually were.

It wasn't until she came across her own that her motions stopped. Detta felt detached, staring at her own face, her name, her dates of birth and death, all staring right back at her from the obit in her hands. It was surreal, like finding a gravestone with her name on it. It would have been different if she were still mortal and had faked her own death but this was different. The girl in the picture she was looking at was dead. She'd been replaced by the undead figure now standing in the office. Two different people, two separate lives that merged two years prior. The last few months of her mortal life blended seamlessly with the start of her vampiric one. Detta breathed deeply, taking in the death of her former self.

Behind her obit lay one more, that of the man she knew occupied the office she came into. Then is struck her. The stack of obituaries she held in her hand were his tally marks, people that pissed him off or wronged him in his own demented way. She was right. She wasn't the only one that he put a hit on. She grabbed the journal and stuffed the pieces of newspaper into the back and replaced it in its rightful nook. She could feel him coming back. It was nearly time.

Behind the door in the corner; it wasn't necessarily dark but it was out of sight. He would have to step all the way into the office before he even saw her and by then it'd be too late. Detta heard the ding of the elevator echo around corners to her as her former editor, Ted, as instructed by the nameplate on his desk, thumped down the hall. She could smell his sweat, his collared shirt ringed. He'd gained weight, evident by his pounding steps. She could sense it on the air. His breathing was hoarse, heavy and ragged. Years of smoking clouded his lungs and he hacked before entering the room. Her lip curled but she maintained her position, leaning against the wall.

He lumbered in, grunting as he did, slamming the door behind him more than likely out of habit than actually wanting the door closed. His forehead has grown larger, if only by the smallest amount. It was still noticeable to her. His back had widen, his trousers fit a little more snugly then the last time she saw him. But he still hadn't seen her, or felt the eyes boring into the back of his hypertensive neck. He was oblivious, like always, to everything around him except for himself. Detta smirked to herself, laughing at his blindness, his unwillingness to give a shit. All of that was about to come to an end. Detta pulled a cigarette out of the pack fit snugly in her jacket pocket and placed it gently between her lips. She reached into another pocket and pulled out a lighter, flicked it and lit her cigarette. Ted's head shot up immediately, eyes darting towards the corner of the room where there burned a flame and a figure his eyes couldn't quite focus on. She snapped the slighter shut, stowed it back safely in her jacket and took a long drag from the smoke, savoring the taste, the puff filling her lungs, smoke that would never harm her. Her eyes closed momentarily on the inhale but opened on the exhale, focusing directly onto Ted's widened eyes.

She smiled sadistically, lit cigarette held between two fingers. "Hello, Ted. Good night?"

Ted squinted, a confused look riddling his face, unable to place the vaguely familiar girl in front of him. "Who are—" His voice caught in his throat when Detta stepped out of the corner and into the dull glow of the desk lamp. Ted stumbled over his words, searching for speech.

Detta cocked her head to the side in a playful manner. "What's the matter, Teddy? Not happy to see me?" She took another drag on the cigarette and exhaled the smoke in Ted's direction.

He let out a disingenuous cough before speaking. "Can't be. Published your obit." Ted shook his head. "No. It's been a long night. I'm dreaming or something."

Detta shook hers in turn. "Oh no, Teddy. This isn't a dream. It's very real. Here, want to feel my pulse?" Detta stretched out her wrist towards him. "Go ahead. Do it."

As if in a daze, Ted reached out two fingers to take her pulse while Detta fought back a cackle. After trying a few different spots, he pulled his arm back, a look of horror on his face.

"This is a joke. Someone put LSD in my coffee or something."

Detta walked up to Ted and slapped him hard across the face, anger chiseled on her features. "Did that feel like a hallucination, Ted, huh? You ever get slapped like that in a dream?" She was surprised she didn't knock him out. The force of her hit was intense and while she could easily tear Ted in two, her effort hadn't been in the slap, not really. Although a definitive handprint was now forming on his cheek.

His head turned slowly back to face her, his eyes wide and fearful. The 'no' shook rapidly from his head, wobbling it dangerously on his neck. It was a 'no' in quick succession, disbelief quivering in his jowls. "No, no. It can't be. You faked . . ."

"No faking, Ted. The dead is walking and talking. And slapping. I'm very real and very pissed."

Ted backed up to his desk, his eyes fighting to bulge from his head. He nearly lost his balance but composed himself quickly albeit without the luxury of grace. He walked backwards, groping along the edge of the desk for support as Detta walked towards him. She hadn't even used her powers of persuasion yet. He was just too scared to try anything. It was almost calming to see the man that had previously been in no other position except for a powerful one be reduced to a quivering, bug-eyed bag of fear. A smile stretched across her face at the thought and Ted's heart began to race even more. She didn't know how long he could last with his body under that much stress and really, she didn't care. As long as she got what she wanted before he died, she would be fine.

"So tell me, just how many people have you ordered killed?" He jaw began to quiver. "Does your wife know about your numerous murders for hire? What about the plethora of secretaries you've' fucked? She know about them? Do you bring one home and force her to join in? Do you like watching while your wife fuck another girl just to keep you happy? She many not know numbers but she's not dumb. Shit, I don't even think you know your numbers. But I do think if you had a daughter who was to your standards, you'd plug her too. And if she ever squealed, you'd just kill her off like the rest of them. What's that smell?"

Detta stuck her nose into the air and sniffed. An acrid, stale smell filled her nostrils as her eyes wandered around the room searching for its source. They stopped once they found the crotch of Ted's trousers, the darkened khaki around the zipper spreading wider onto the legs, the fabric sticking to his skin. He looked down at himself and backed away from Detta who was trying with all her might not to burst out laughing. It almost didn't seem appropriate, not now. The chair greeted his wide load as he stumbled back around the corner of the desk, gaping wide-eyed at her, afraid to move, too scared to speak.

"I take it I'm the first, oh what an honor, to make you wet yourself. Sucks to be this scared, doesn't it? At least my attackers were humans," Detta lied. He didn't need to know about her or the boys. It wasn't necessary. "I'm beyond that, Ted. I don't even have a pulse. You've pissed me off so much that I've clawed my way out of my own grave to exact revenge. A mighty feat, raising the dead. Good job." Her voice was throaty, bordering on seductive but was dripping with intimidation and disdain. "You've gotten away with it all for far too long. You've used too many people, destroyed too many lives all because you thought you were above them, a king playing with his pawns. I'm calling you out, Ted. Your luck's run out and your number is up. But before you go," Detta sat on the edge of the desk, one foot on the floor, one leg dangling from the edge, occasionally kicking Ted's leg. He didn't move or attempt to stop it. "I think a suicide note is in order."

He burst into tears. The sight was pathetic and only induced a sense of vile revulsion in the pit of her stomach. Mucus and tears mixed on his chin as he tried to grope for words but was only drowned out by his sobs.

After a minute of hysterics, he managed, "I don't want to die."

Detta erupted in a fit of maniacal laughter. "I don't care what you want. It's not up to you anymore. You're done with choices. Now I highly recommend you start that letter. A full confession of your indiscretions, your affairs, your murders, berate yourself a bit, let everyone know how big of a piece of shit you thought you were, how you enjoyed destroying people for your own personal gain and I think a good ending would be to say that you deserve to die before the rest of your past catches up to you. Yeah, I think that could work."

When Detta looked back over at Ted, he was already writing through the sobs. His hand moved smoothly but not of his own accord. He was crying too much to even discern what it was he was writing. This was her doing it. She was controlling him now. There was no way he would do this on his own. Had she not been a vampire, he would have fought this but he didn't stand a chance. Being so young, she still wasn't that powerful but in his weakened state, she was able to latch on and take hold of his psyche, doing with it what she pleased. What scared her was that she didn't know it had happened. She was probably too emotionally overwrought with the situation. She felt the control take hold when her and Marko fed from that girl but this seemed different. At the moment, she didn't care. It was her time now and her editor that sentenced her to death was going to die.

After several long minutes of writing, Ted finally righted himself above the desk, placing the pen next to the scrawled piece of tear-stained paper. Detta looked at him, her face emotionless, before leaning in to grab the letter. She read it over: it contained everything she asked—a confession to everything, his motivations and, at the end, an apology, a begging of forgiveness for playing god, rounded out with a signature. She placed it back on the desk and a memory came to her, as if forgotten for ages. The journal.

"You know what?" Detta said, picking the letter back up and handing it to Ted, "stick this with all those obituaries in that journal of yours and put it right there." She pointed towards the spot where the letter previously sat. "People should find that first, don't you think?"

Still sobbing, Ted leaned across the desk and grabbed his journal. The front cover flipped opened just as easily for him and he set the letter inside before placing it just where Detta wanted it. He looked up at her when he was finished, his eyes nearly swollen shut but they were still pleading with her to be lenient, to let him go. The rest of his body was rigid, under her control.

Detta scoffed before looking away from him towards the office door. "I'm done with you."

Ted wailed, portions of his mind breaking through her control but not enough to stop his body from getting up and walking towards the window. The click of the lock sounded and the window slid up before she turned around. He was still crying as he hoisted one large leg over the windowsill and wedged his body through the small square opening, pulling his other leg out after him. He stood on the ledge for a moment, weeping into the uncaring night, before he leaned forward and let the wind take him to the ground.

He landed in the dark alley stories below with a sickening thud, like a watermelon being slammed onto the sidewalk, his body just as splattered. From that height, she would be surprised if he was recognizable after the impact. The alley was deserted and it was New York. If someone did hear it, they wouldn't make any move to find out what it was. Chances were no one would know he was dead until the following morning, perhaps when the garbage men came to collect the trash.

Detta stood up and took one last look at the office. She felt detached. She could have torn him limb from limb with her bare hands, made him eat his own heart but she kept her emotions in control. What she still felt for Ted in her mortal life that carried into her vampiric one died with him. The resentment, the anger and what little fear she had left jumped out that window and splattered on the New York City street below. Now she was as distanced from the past she was standing in as if it hadn't even been her own. Her surroundings were becoming less and less familiar, indicating that her business there was finally finished. No longer did this black cloud swim in her mind. She could leave the office that night and none of it would exist to her anymore. All that was left now was her new life in Santa Carla, the wide open city in front of her, the eons of world still unexplored and Marko waiting for her in Brooklyn.

xXx

Reviews are always appreciated.