I've never felt safer, despite the fact that I'm covered in my own seed, naked, and currently spooning with Tweek.
Now if you were going to tell me that, by the end of that day, I'd have lost my virginity to this twitchy blonde, I would have probably laughed you out of town. Not now. My head's still swimming, my limbs the consistency of pudding, and body shaky from the earlier act. I'm sure he's in the same position as me, with the way he noses the back of my neck and jitters just barely against me. His hand is splayed over my stomach, knees knocking against the back of mine, our legs intertwined underneath Craig's covers. The shitty part is that people keep walking in now, quickly closing the door as soon as they see us; my ass hurts and I'm sure I'm about to puke from the stress and alcohol and whatever fucking things are going through my mind exactly aren't helping.
We have to kill them. We have to.
"K-kyle...?" His warm breath tickles over my ear, and instantly I roll my shoulders to fight off the shiver. It's just nice, but...you know, it's really not what I want. Definitely welcome, don't get me wrong, but somewhere deep down we both know he's not the one I want next to me. Hell, I sure didn't hear him moaning my name out earlier, so no hard feelings. I slide my hand down to grasp at his, slipping my fingers in between his. He seems to understand, giving out a little hum and kissing my neck before we both shakily find our way out of the sheets and into messy, sticky clothing.
And as fate would seem to have it, we were caught. At least it wasn't with our pants down this time; Tweek was fidgeting with the buttons on his shirt as I searched for my hat when Craig Tucker decided to check up on us for his own amusement. Or whatever was going through his mind. No doubt someone had told him by now that he'd need to change his sheets to get rid of the evidence we both left behind.
Ah, there it was. Seething behind his usually-stoic face, that anger building up in his eyes and behind the new color flushing to his face. Well, well, well, someone's pissed that they didn't get to break in their own bed. For the moment I'm spared his wrath; Tweek is shoved back against the wall with a huff.
"What the fuck, Tweek?!" He says it like it was a betrayal of the greatest aspect. "What the fuck!?"
Half of me is surprised that the blonde shoved back, the other half knew it was coming. For the most part the alcohol's ran its course through his system, judging by the way he's no longer staggering. So I have only a little clue as to why he's looking just as angry and hurt, his fist balling up and shoulders hunching. "Just leave me the fuck alone," I hear him utter through grit teeth, bending slightly and grabbing my hat in his hands. "I'm not...gah, I'm not disturbing your party."
Craig practically rips the hat out of Tweek's grasp; I'm surprised the thing's still in one piece from the brutality. "No, you're just fucking Broflovski in my own goddamn room!" His finger points to me like the illegitimate lovechild of an affair Tweek just had, which is impossible because tonight's events just told me that the possibility of that happening without sperm-jacking is zilch.
"Oh leave him alone!" Tweek bats Craig's hand down and puffs up, looking as big as he can in some move to intimidate the black-haired sixteen-year-old. The fact that it worked, and that Craig falters for a moment, is amazing in itself. He regains ownership of my hat, tossing it back to me over his shoulder. In a hurry I put it on while Tweek just stares down his best friend with the most hate I think I've seen all night. And don't get me wrong or anything, but at that moment I was just indifferent to the fight. I might have been there, and I might have been the cause of it, but there was no way I was getting in the middle of it. Something in my mind was just telling me to get my clothes on and to get the fuck out of Dodge.
And as I chance a glance over, I see Craig staring back with the most bewildered look on his face. This is something I'd expect from someone...y'know, a little more passionate. So either Craig's on some sort of drug or this is really hitting him hard. Poor bastard. I slide on my jacket and step up to Tweek's side with a nudge. "Let's just go," I half-whisper, grasping at his shoulder and flashing an apologetic look to Craig. "Let's just go home, Tweek."
Craig steps back, face slowly morphing into something I'd expect to see on a broken-hearted bitter old man. At least he fits three out of the four at that moment as he turns on his hell, storming out and nearly knocking down Pip in the process. Tweek's tense shoulders sag, and I can tell that Craig means a lot to him from the little bit of wetness in his eyes. He wipes them on the back of his hand before grabbing mine, leading me out of Craig's room and back into the throng of the party.
Life seems to have gone on in our absence. Sans Craig, everyone's having a good time. Even Cartman, though the fat bastard's passed out with little Sharpie scribbles covering his face. Stan's giggling, finishing his dick-mustache rendition of a doodle across Cartman's upper lip as Kevin Stoley laughs in an uproar, Bebe hanging off his side. It's as if we were never here, really. My hand grasps Tweek's tighter as we brush past Token and Clyde and head out the door.
Freedom.
I'm sure that the cops are gonna be called by this hour; the noise coming from the Tucker house is enough to wake the dead. But inside that mass, we're normal. Out here, in the fog-covered night, we're aspiring to be more. Two boys up to no good, murder sloshing on the brain and relative insanity as a chaser. I laugh at that notion, letting my hand fall free of the blonde's before turning to him and sighing.
"Last chance. If we're really going through with this, we're gonna walk off of Craig's porch and not turn back. If not, we should head back inside and try to make it up to him." I cross my arms, waiting for him to say something about how much pressure I was putting on him, that this was a tough decision. If anything I was looking for any hesitation in him; to see if he would react like I wanted him to or if he was just as crazy as I was at that moment and felt eerily calm.
There's not even a twitch. He sighs, his eyes closing and looking like he's at peace for the first time in years. "We're gonna need an elder or someone who knows how to turn us. We're gonna have to..." He stutters then, like any normal insane person would at that moment. "...gonna have to, y'know. Grab Red." He opens his eyes then, giving a little twitch and setting one foot off of the porch.
I follow suit, giving a nod and blinking against the darkness, thanking the city of South Park that we have somewhat-decent street lights. "I know where he lives. Knowing him he's either gonna be there or at that waffle-house drinking shit coffee."
"No such thing exists," he utters, hopping off the porch with his back to the old days. I join him with a grin, bumping my hip against his. He lets out a little smirk, bumping back and leaning in to kiss my cheek. "I'm right behind you. Lead the way, Boogeyman."
I have to give a cheeky grin to that, pulling him by his arm into a run. We've only got until sunrise to get this done. There's no time to waste.
*~*
I've never seen Craig so fucking hurt in my entire life.
And this is me talking through the vodka. I've always kind of wondered why the hell he and I are best friends when it's obvious he'd rather be with Tweek than little ol' me. Which is why, for the whole course of his party, I've merely stuck close to Bebe and Token and nursed the Burnett's that I got from my mom. I'm sure she'll notice it missing in the morning when she opens the freezer and her favorite coffee-addition is nowhere to be found. Oh well, tonight was worth it. Or it was until Bebe stopped professing her love to me and moved to whatever guy was around her at that moment.
Women.
But all that's put behind me, and I tug on Token's shirt. "Dude, we should check up on Craig. He just came storming outta his room."
"Tweek's probably still drunk," he tells me while attempting to roll his first joint. "I'd be pissed too. That JD was his." I shake my head, tugging him again as Kyle and Tweek brush past us and head outside.
"Not like that, dude. I mean like I think something went down," I say in a low tone which always meant I was serious. Or at least I hoped that's the tone I had. "You know how he is about that guy."
I hand him the lighter and he thanks me with a knuckle-bump, holding in the smoke for a few good seconds before blowing it back in my face with a long sigh. "Tucker's fucking crazy over Tweek, everyone knows it. He probably just overreacted cause he caught them cuddling or whatever."
"They just walked past us," I remind him as he offers me the joint while licking his lips. "He and Kyle were holding hands." And I gave him the eye which can only be read by another best friend, the look which could say what the English language couldn't express.
I take a puff as he leans forwards, taking a sip of his Blue Moon. "Wait...you don't think?"
"Oh yeah," I wheeze out, coughing as I pass it back to him and squeeze my eyes shut so they won't water up so bad. "I bet you anything they did it on his bed too."
"Who did what?" Wendy saunters over, and I give her a wink and pat the wall next to me to invite her over. "Hey Token."
"Sup," he says with a nod, almost looking like he wants to ditch the joint to avoid any verbal yakking from our resident goody-two-shoes. Wendy's either very forgiving or very smashed at this point, because all she does it eye it and shrug, looking between the both of us for an answer. This is very bad news, because we both know what happens when you tell one of our class's girls anything. Rumors, lies, and slander. Really, its what makes them fun, but only when the story's not about you or someone you know. Token and I stare at each other in that sort of best friend gaze again, as if we're mentally arguing over whether or not to tell her.
"Fellers! Hey, hey fellers!" Our moment's totally cock-blocked by Butters, who runs over looking like he's just been told Jesus Christ is actually a woman. "Did you hear!? Kyle and Tweek, well...they done did the dirty!"
Now Butters is a good kid, but it's moments like these where I just want to smack the shit out of him. Wendy's drawn in now; there's no way that this is staying a secret. If it was one to begin with anyways. "Really?" I hear her ask, eyebrows practically raising just judging from her voice. "Where did you hear that from?"
"Well, y'see," He starts off, trying not to fall over on his face, "Craig kinda kicked me outta the bathroom just a while ago. Poor fella, I thought he was gonna go and puke y'know. And I really had to go to the bathroom, so I waited outside." He pauses, bringing up his hands for emphasis. "Jimmy gets a call and goes into the bathroom with Craig, and I overhear Craig telling Jimmy that he caught Tweek and Kyle in bed together."
"No way," I hear Token say. Oh great, now he's drawn into this little gossip story. Well, what the hell, I might as well jump on board so I don't end up being left behind. I nod, waving my hand at Butters to get him to tell more. "C'mon Butters, you're just pulling our legs."
"Aw shucks, I bet you it's true! There's gotta be proof it happened in Craig's room." He's staring at the ground now out of nervous habit, bumping his fists together and looking like an outright faggot. I shake my head, glancing at Wendy and Token for any input.
Wendy's need for gossip seems to be sated, but her curiosity's going to be the death of the human race at this point. "Come on guys, let's go check it out and see if they did. You have got to be just a little curious."
"No," I lie, crossing my arms but heading towards Craig's room anyways. "Let's just get this over with. I wanna smoke some more of Token's stuff."
"Moocher," I hear him grumble at my side as the four of us brush past a few other classmates and head to Craig's room. The area around it is relatively quiet, creepy almost. I use the toes of my shoe to push the door open, hoping to God that Craig doesn't see and decide that we're the ones going to get our asses handed to us because he can't keep his temper bottled up for long. Immediately we're hit with the smell of musk and sweat, and I want to pull a Stan and wretch right there.
"Smells like sex in here."
"No duh dip-shit," I hear Wendy mutter, pushing past me and walking over to the messy pile of sheets once known as Craig's bed. That's surprising; she must be a bit more than plastered. And I don't mean on alcohol. She's brave though, I give her that much as she pulls down one of the covers to inspect it.
She jerks her hand away, shaking it like it's on fire. "Oh sick! There's fucking cum on the bed!"
Token clicks his tongue as I shake my head in disbelief. You don't have sex on your friend's bed, especially not your love interest's bed unless it's with him. Tweek, you're a fucking asshole. "Ho-ly shit," I hear my friend mutter while Butters remains quiet. "You weren't lying."
"Well I told you I wasn't," he retorts, almost like he's trying to stand up for himself while feigning innocence. That's the thing with Butters; we're not sure if he's passive or passive-aggressive. "See? Th-there's even a little bottle on the bed."
"Lube," I say with a scowl, eyeballing the little bottle and wondering where the hell it came from. "What the hell were they thinking?"
"That's what I'd like to know," comes a familiar nasally voice that makes the four of us jump out of our skins. We all turn and find a very calm-looking Craig, glaring at us through red-rimmed eyes. They're not the kind of eyes you get from being stoned, however. Rather than ask if he'd been crying, or ask anything at all, I just give a little laugh.
The first thing to do is try to explain what the fuck we're doing in his room in the first place. "W-we heard noises, and-"
He flips me off, and immediately I shut up. If he wasn't in a bad mood already I didn't want to be the cause of his psychotic mental episode. "Never mind. Where are they?"
"Who?"
He glances over to Wendy, almost flipping her off as well. I think his hand's just on autopilot; it's really the only thing that makes him who he is at that moment. "Tweek and Broflovski. Where are they?"
"They went outside," I hear Token say as he takes another puff, hogging his joint all to himself for the moment and exhaling through his nostrils. Craig mutters something, holding his head in his hands before looking back up at us with a sigh.
"God damn it. I have to get them back here before Tweek ends up hurting himself." I know he doesn't give a damn about Kyle, but Wendy does and she gives a nod before holding Butters by the shoulders and leading him out. "I'll grab Stan and Kenny," she mentions to Craig in as much seriousness as an intoxicated mind can offer. "We'll go and look for them, don't worry."
Which, really, that's the worst advice you can offer anyone. Telling someone "don't worry" is a surefire way to make them worry. And Craig's already looking like a wreck without your help, Wendy. Thanks but keep that comment to yourself. I clap my hand on his back, watching him move away to grab his hat and coat and head out to our little rag-tag search party.
Looks like Kenny's sobered up a bit; he can stand on his own without Stan holding him up. They both look like lost little kids as Wendy explains the situation to them in detail. As much as we love Tweek, I'm sure they love Kyle in the same way. They're like our respected mascots. They define us by being completely different from who we are. In a way, minus the way Kenny dies all the time and Craig's obsession with that damn Red Racer show, we're just too normal to be tolerated. Stan looks at Craig, trying not to sway due to the fact that we're all still pretty boozed up.
"Is it true?"
Craig, to no one's surprise, flips him off. It's to be expected. "That's what I saw. But we need to get them back here before they go and do something stupid." He leans on the table, glancing over to the still-going party and giving a look that says "fuck it, the place can get robbed for all I care." Token's right, Craig tends to go a bit overboard when it comes to Tweek. If that's what love's all about, I'm not sure I'm ready for it right now.
"Alright," he begins, tapping his fingers on the wood of the table. "Let's start with where they'd go."
"Home," Kenny says through his parka. The voice is still a bit muffled, but over the years we've all begun to really understand what he says underneath all of that clothing.
Token shakes his head, rubbing out the joint in the ash-tray Craig's Dad uses. "No way dude. They're both drunk. Kyle's mom would castrate him and Tweek'd be too afraid that he was gonna get disowned for coming home drunk."
"'Kay," Craig mutters while mentally crossing off those places from the list of places to check. "They're probably both still together...Tweek's gonna want coffee eventually. Maybe the 24-hour pancake house?"
Stan gives a nod, remembering the place from his little stint as a goth. "That could be a place to start. Where else? Kyle doesn't like coffee so he might not be there for long."
"Tweek might follow," Wendy reminded Craig so that he could focus on finding them both. We all know he's a little biased, but prodding the bull at this point is just cruel. Not to mention the fact that it's prodding a fucking bull, and he has no problem in lashing out at us over this.
"I know," he says irritably. "Just hang on a minute I'm thinking."
Butters stutters for a moment. Honestly, I kind of forgot he was even here to begin with. Why he's so interested in helping is beyond me, though I have to admit that he's kind of too nice a guy to just not do anything about it. "Well, what about a quiet-like place? Stark's Pond maybe?"
"They'll know it's one of the first places we'll check," I retort, really just trying to reason through it all.
Wendy clicks her tongue, shifting her weight and her hips at the same time. "Don't rule it out though. Eventually they're going to want to be found. We should still check it out."
Craig gives a nod, hands in his pockets as he glances around the room in his thought process. "The bus depot."
"Really?" Stan gives a shrug. "I mean, do you really think they'd skip out of town just because-"
"Not because of that but because it's open right now. It's almost two in the morning," Craig reminds us with an irritable snap. "If they're not going home they're going to be someplace that's open. Any other ideas?"
"We could check downtown," Kenny suggests, scratching at his hair and getting dandruff flakes everywhere. It's disgusting but we have more important matters to attend to. "There's a bunch of places open down there.
"Unless they have fake ID's I don't think we'll find them in a bar," Wendy ponders, to which I give a nod to. "Probably in one of the other 24-hour restaurants down there."
"There's the back of the library," Stan adds in, pinching at the bridge of his nose. "I think that it's unlocked anyways. Kyle and I used to sneak in there back in middle school to mess with the librarian."
"Yeah, she was a bitch."
"Focus, Token," Craig reminds. "Alright, so we check downtown and the faggy library as well. If we don't come up with anything, call me. We'll meet up behind the Elementary school and decide what to do then. If you find them, call me. Anything, just call me." Craig's tough guy exterior cracked a little bit then, and we see just how sickly worried he is over Tweek. It's really kind of sad, when you think about it.
"Don't worry Craig. We'll get them both back," Wendy says with a raised eyebrow, wrapping an arm around Stan's and motioning for Butters to go with them and Kenny. Which leaves me, Craig, and Token for the other search party. Our cellphones are on, and those of us not too inebriated to drive have their keys out and ready to roll.
The hunt is on.
*~*
The plank of wood cracks nicely over the back of Red's head; his body slumps against the patio of his home in an instant.
Jesus, I hope I didn't knock him out too hard. "Grab his legs," I motion to Kyle, quickly picking up his shoulders and starting to drag him off before his parents can notice the commotion from downstairs. That is, if his parents care at all. He stays out all night and has some of the freakiest friends I've ever seen, I doubt a strange noise is going to alarm them. Good news for us, bad news for our little friend.
By the time he comes to, we've got him in the back of my little Toyota just a bit past Stark's Pond into the Colorado woodland. Usually I'm too nervous to drive out this far this late, the deer are notorious for suicide-bombing people's cars. He makes a loud noise, kicking his feet against the spare tire in the bed of the truck which makes Kyle turn his head and lick his chapped lips. "Jew Scouts knots are better than Boy Scouts," he says smoothly, probably admiring the handiwork of the twine rope binding currently keeping Red from just jumping out and making a mad break for freedom. I don't know if it's meant to be an insult or just a simple statement, but whatever it is has him smiling and that's enough to make me chuckle.
When we can't see the lights of South Park anymore I shut off the engine, leaving the headlights on and opening the cab door to the cool air. Most of the drunkenness is gone by now, but that sense of self-high was still flowing mighty strong in my veins. Kyle joins me, flashlight in his hand as we both make our way back to the bed and flip down the back to gaze at our prize.
I'm not surprised to find him pissed. I mean, I would be too if I woke up with a splitting headache in the middle of ass-fucking nowhere with two people I never would have expected to kidnap me. Then again when I think about myself being kidnapped, me being pissed off is the last thing I imagine I would be. More like a scared little twit. So either Red's just insane or this has happened to him before. Perhaps a little of both. His past issues aren't our concern now as I loosen the gag around his mouth and let him finally get a word in about the matter.
"I'm not going to squeal like a pig for you."
"We know," Kyle snaps with a roll of his eyes. "That's what a conformist would do. Just shut up and tell us what we want to know."
He even flips his hair out of his face, despite the fact that this is anything less than friendly. "And how the hell am I supposed to know?"
Then Kyle does something I don't think I think he'd do. He grabs at the black-and-red dyed strands and yanks him out of the bed of the Toyota in a single move, the goth yelping from the unexpected violence and sputtering against the Colorado dirt face-down. Kyle must have mentally lost it on the drive; all I see is an animal. And that notion excites me, since that's exactly the way we want to be. I watch as Kyle saunters over to him, a hand on his hip and the other hand flashing the flashlight directly into Red's makeup-covered face.
"How do we do it? What's the ritual?"
"Are you fucking psycho?! I have no idea what you're talking abo-"
I don't even wince as Kyle's foot uppercuts Red's chin, flipping the bound boy over onto his back with a stream of crimson flowing down his nose and mouth. I'm panting and just watching the little streams flow down his pasty skin in the glow of my headlights. Blood. This is going to be a life of blood. Am I really okay with that?
"Skin-walkers," Kyle says with a bit of a growl in his voice. He circles our captive for a moment, gripping at his arms and glancing back at me every once in a while for input. I've got nothing really to add; he's doing fine on his own. "You know the ritual to become one, and you're going to use it to turn us into them."
Even I get a little upset when he turns over and stares at us like we're crazy. We're not. We're just determined. But it further agitates me when he just starts laughing, eyes wide and hair a matted mess against his crimson life. "Oh my God, you're serious. You're way fucking serious about a fucking fairytale!" He closes his eyes, resting the back of his head on the ground. He doesn't see us as a threat yet. "Well you might as well off me then, kid. I'm not telling you a thing."
"You'd like that too much," I mutter, looking in the back of the Toyota for the tire iron. "Maybe when we're done with you."
Kyle arches an eyebrow, eyeballing me carefully. "What are you gonna do?"
"Jesus, don't start with the pressure." The heavy thing scrapes along the bed eerily, almost falling out of my hand and landing on my toes as I heft it up with both hands. "I'm just gonna give him what he wants most."
Ah. Kyle's got it, and he lets a smirk ease its way across his face like he himself was the Cheshire Cat. "Life is only pain?"
Red looks up in the first human emotion I've seen on him that's genuine. Fear is something you can't fake very well. I raise the tire iron over my head with a great swing, smashing it down as hard as I can on his knees. He yowls in agony, writhing in his spot and screaming his fool head off. No one's going to hear him though; it's why we chose this area to bring him to. What's a man's worst fear than being beaten to death in the mountains by the locals?
I pant, leaning against the metal bit and watching him curl up to try to relieve what I've done to his kneecaps. "Life is pain."
"They're not real!" he screams back at us as we watch him with mild interest. "Jesus Christ, they're only made up!"
Kyle takes the tire iron from me for a moment, slapping it against his hand and pointing at Red's skull threateningly. "Then you better pray that they are. Now do you believe that we're serious? Are we conformist now?"
He lets out another pain-filled shriek as the tire iron's whacked against his ribcage; I see blood starting to seep from that wound. Maybe he's got a cracked rib now. At the very most, some internal bleeding. Kyle waits another moment, looking very cross and sharing that look with me."
"He's not gonna talk."
I sigh, looking back to the tool kit in the pickup with interest. "He better. We could start cutting off his toes. That's painful enough to get his attention."
He leans against me, kissing at the base of my neck while humming his disagreement. "We already have his attention and all he's doing is bitching. I say we start gouging out his eyes."
"That could work. Start real slow..." I trail off as Kyle sucks at the flesh on my neck for a moment, shaking him off. We have a job to do. He gives a pout, but I just have to shake my head and deal with it later. "One at a time. I have a bunch of rusty screwdrivers."
Red finally seems to get the picture as he stutters out something almost unintelligible. We both glance to him at the same time, staring him down for a repeat. "...I-I said I have to do the chant. Then you have to perform the sacrifices." His breathing is labored due to his new injuries, but he's taking us seriously this time.
"The real chant," I say with a bit of a scowl. "Gah, not anything fake. You'll be wishing you could die but we won't let you if you try to fake us out." He gives a nod, his tongue dancing across bloodstained lips as he begins.
In a way it's like a song. Something filthy, and he stares at us as he chants like his life depends on it. In a way, you expect a bolt of lighting, a gust of wind, something stereotypical right out of the movies to come crashing down to add to the thickness of the situation. But there's nothing. At least, at first there's nothing.
It's licking at your heels at first, like tongues of flame that leave you chilled instead of burned. And in a way it's a pleasant feeling, the back of my skull buzzing more than I've ever had it before. Not caffeine, not coke, not even weed could measure up to this feeling just slowly bubbling in my cranium. Before I know it the flames are dancing up my legs, scratching at my arms as the chant grows louder and more intense. The pleasant feeling's starting to overstimulate, and I'm panting and gripping at my head and arching against an invisible lover.
I can't even open my eyes as the flames start to hurt, running up my thighs and stomach and grasping tightly at my windpipe. I'm not even sure how I ended up on the ground in the first place, but I think I'm trying to scream as I feel something otherworldly licking and whispering in my ear. I instantly recognize the voice; it's mine. But the words are in a language I've never heard; like speech turned on backwards but whispered in sharp rises of pitch and decibel. I can't breathe, I'm choking. Oh God, I can't breathe!
And then it grips at my heart. Like whatever it is is dissecting me slowly over the span of lifetimes and taking it own sweet time in ripping out my heart. I feel faint; feel it slowing down despite the fact that I don't think it's in my chest anymore. Ba-dump. Ba-dump. Jesus Christ I'm dying; I feel that my body's having a seizure but my mind is so crystal clear like an out-of-body experience that I'm not sure what the hell's going on.
Ba-dump.
Ba-dump.
And then it's gone. The pain, the thing killing me slowly, it's all gone. I hear nothing, no screaming. Not even my own breathing. I think I'm floating in a sea of black, and my instincts tell me I should be frightened. Whatever this place is, it's not limbo.
Are you unhappy, little one?
It's my voice. "Yes..." I answer back in monotone, because I know I'm supposed to answer. I feel an embrace, I feel myself being held close to something rough and...evil. I open my eyes but still see only black. Whatever it is, it does not want me to see it.
I feel it stroke my hair softly, cooing in my ear with what I imagine must be a jagged-toothed maw. We can make you happy again. We can make you into what you want to be. This is what you want, right?
I sigh out, shuddering against this touch like a virgin. "Yes."
It laughs in my ear, then I feel it merging with me like a warm blanket. It's rooting itself deep inside, nestling in with my organs and bones. Then you know what to do. Wake up, Skin-walker.
"Wake up."
When my eyes open, everything seems to be the exact same way it was before. But I'm on the ground and I taste bile in my mouth, and sure enough there's a puddle of puke next to me on the ground. But nothing hurts, nothing feels wrong. Which is in itself wrong. I'm on my feet in no time, looking over at Kyle who seems to be doing the same thing and brushing off a few twigs from his clothing.
"What the hell...you aren't supposed to be a-alive!" Red seems perpetually freaked out by this event, and with a roll of my shoulders I snap my attention to him.
"Did you try to kill us?"
I think he fears another beating with the tire iron. Perhaps this is why he's so quick to answer with: "No! Y-you just both...had seizures. You've been there for a good hour, I thought you were-"
Kyle arches his eyebrow, and for a moment I know its different now. In the dark, his eyes are glowing. They have night-shine when they shouldn't; catching on the glow of my dying headlights. He blinks and stretches out, looking over to me in a knowing manner.
I nod. "They're with us. We don't need him."
He gives a shrug, waltzing over to me and nuzzling my cheek affectionately. But now I'm reading his body language, watching the way he slinks around. He's without form, without grace. We won't survive long if we don't complete the first part of the ritual. "We'll deal with him later. Sun's going to be up soon. We'll meet back here." I grasp at the back of his head and kiss him, the impulse to do so stronger than anything I've ever felt before.
He licks at my teeth with a hum, pulling away with a bite to my lip and shifting his focus onto Red. "He's not going anywhere with that fucked up knee. Stick him in the cab." I nod and we both circle our captive, and he looks up at us with wide eyes. He's prey, my mind snaps to that conclusion and I lick my lips and teeth and grin at him. "Until later, my friend." He yelps as we yank him up roughly, watching more of his blood pool on the ground before I open the door and we throw him in. I grab my keys and stuff them in my pocket for good measure, watching as we're bathed in no light except what shines from the little sliver of moon above.
Kyle gives a laugh, watching as he struggles with trying to get free. "He won't get out."
"I know."
For some reason we're both grinning, watching each other curiously as we curl our hands and crouch on the ground. It's too synchronized to be coincidence that we seem to be able to mimic each other so well, right down to the way we breathe and blink. I feel my muscles tensing as I prepare to dart off into the night, possibly to the last time I will ever see my parents again.
Break out the banners. We're going home.
