The release was immediate. Even in the middle of the day, when only mortal danger could wake any of the boys from their rest, they all felt Max die. Even David hadn't realized how deep their head vampire's grip was buried in their minds, when suddenly he was just gone. For the first time in over a century, they were truly their own masters.
Tonight, they were going to party.
Tonight, Lucy was planning a special dinner. Michael had worked so hard in packing and helping with the house, her job was going wonderfully, and Sam had friends. She hadn't honestly expected him to make them so quick, and lord knew he needed them. Sometimes she worried he spent too much time with his comics, or watching TV when they used to actually have a set. At least with friends, though those two boys seemed like quite a handful, she could trust him to stay out of trouble.
There'd been a wonderful deal on some fish at the market, and spur of the moment she thought it would be a wonderful way to celebrate their new life in Santa Carla. A fresh start, that was all they needed. She was almost certain she was ready to let her father go, and put the divorce behind her now. It had only taken a good job to take her mind off of the bad things.
Lucy used a fork to check the fish in the oven, pleased that it was flaking nicely. Any minute now Michael would be back with Sam. She'd sent him to the boardwalk to pick him up while she made dinner, so they could eat at a decent hour.
Poor Michael. How on earth he'd managed to let a box fall on him and bruise his face so badly, she hadn't a clue, but he deserved this treat. He was a good boy. They both were. Lucy was grateful for that.
It was around six when they sat down for dinner. The timing couldn't have been better. No sooner had she finished preparing fresh lime juice for the fish and setting the table, Michael and Sam were striding into the dining room.
"Hey, mom," Sam kissed Lucy on the cheek, "smells good."
She beamed at him, "you seem very happy today. Did you have fun with your friends?"
He shrugged, pulling a chair out from the table, "I guess. They're kinda dramatic, but hey, their folks just offered me a part-time job for the summer!"
"Oh!" Lucy exclaimed, a little concerned, "just for the summer?" She didn't want him dropping out of school to work at a comic shop. Even her free-spirited father would be spinning in his grave at the thought.
"Just the summer," he clarified.
Michael sat down across from Sam, straightening the cuffs of his leather jacket. She'd noticed it earlier, but hadn't mentioned it, "Michael, where did you get that jacket?"
"Friends," he shrugged, "they had a spare one, said nobody else really wanted it."
She nodded, "just be careful about accepting things from people you barely know. Nothing is ever free." It wasn't at all surprising that Michael had made friends, too. He was certainly leaving the house frequently enough to make them.
"Don't worry," Michael reassured her, "I'll be fine. We're meeting up tonight after dinner."
"Do you have to go out tonight?" She asked, just a little hurt, but covering it up with a slight smile as she dished out portions of fish and watercress salad.
For a moment, he looked confused, staring straight at his plate as if he didn't really understand the question.
"Mike?" Sam waved a hand in front of his brother's face, taking a huge bite of his fish.
"Uh-" Michael jumped, looking back up at them, "we're meeting up tonight after dinner," he repeated, and it sounded very strange. Lucy wouldn't press him, though. He was a good boy. It was still summer. Things would settle down once school started.
Michael was sure to park his bike somewhere safe tonight, close to a store with plenty of lights, just in case that skin-head and his friends decided to do something to it. The guy clearly had it out for him. Hell, it'd probably be better just to stay home until things cooled down, but it almost felt like that option wasn't on the table. He'd go to the boardwalk every night, and that was it.
There was a reason. He knew there was. Whenever he tried to remember why, though, he got a headache. Even now, he could feel a migraine coming on.
"Michael!" David shouted towards him. It was kinda funny, he sounded like he was just whispering, but when Michael met the blonde's gaze across the crowd parked near some railing he knew the guy had to be shouting.
He quickly made his way over, peering around, "where's everyone else?" It was just David and his bike.
"They're getting the party ready. We're meeting up later."
"Party?" Michael frowned. Nobody had mentioned a party last night.
"Yeah, we're celebrating. Wanna come?"
"I guess," Michael shrugged.
"Here," David reached under his coat and pulled out a flask, "have some, relax a little before we go."
Michael eyed the flask thoughtfully, then slowly shook his head, "nah, I'm fine. Maybe another time. I still don't really know this place that well, don't wanna do something stupid while I'm riding."
A dark expression flitted across David's face, and if Michael hadn't been looking right at him, he'd have missed it, but pretty soon the blonde was giving him that same secret smile he'd come to expect, "alright. Next time I'm not taking no for an answer, though."
"Fair enough." Michael nodded, "next time."
After he'd tucked his flask away, David threw an arm around Michael's shoulders, "you'll like our place. No rules. No bar fights. Just the boys, some booze, some broads, maybe even something special Paul cooked up." Frankly, judging by Paul's example, Michael wasn't exactly sure he was interested in that last one.
"C'mon," David gestured towards his bike, "I'll wait for you."
When they left, it didn't escape Michael's notice that the skinhead and his friends were lingering beside the same shop he'd parked near. He was all too happy to leave them far behind, wondering if maybe he needed to stop bringing his bike to the boardwalk altogether.
He had to push himself hard to keep up with David, a wraith in the fog, and he didn't doubt this was going to be a recurring theme. With all of them. Dwayne, Marko, Paul, David. Candles burning at both ends. Despite himself, a small part of Michael wondered what it would be like to live like them. The aches of his injured cheek and hand were the not so subtle reminders that maybe, just maybe, that probably wasn't the best idea.
Michael couldn't see any stars tonight. Nothing but a film of ink and fog. He could barely make out where they were parking before a gloved hand reached for his and pulled him through the dark, stumbling over rock and sand until his feet met grass, and finally wood.
"How can you see in this shit?" Michael asked, squinting after him. He could just barely make out an outline. Bleached blonde hair painted gray by the night.
"Just following the music, Michael," David tossed back at him.
Music? Yeah, he could hear it now. Hair metal mingling with laughter and shouts.
"Sounds like they started without us," David went on, reaching back to grab Michael's shoulder once or twice when he stumbled over rickety steps. Eventually they were on firm ground again, and the dark around him was pierced by glowing firelight as they stepped through into an odd cave. Or building. A combination of the two.
It was incredible. Cracked and water-stained pillars leaned against each other, some embedded in rocky walls, engraved with faceless women in Grecian robes. Tree roots dangled from the earthen ceiling, some of them tangled with stained glass windows, cracked in a hundred spots, revealing only more earth behind them.
"Nice place," Michael managed to say, in total awe. He only half-heard David's explanation. Used to be a hotel. He could almost picture it, new and rich, sinking into hell as the world opened up to consume it, only to get stuck halfway between the sky and the sea.
"It's all ours," David informed him, cracking a grin as Dwayne passed him by, tossing the blonde a bottle. There were a few people here and there besides the boys, though not many. A pair of girls passing a joint between each other while Paul relaxed in-between them, occasionally leaning over to whisper into one of their ears, before giving Marko or David a sly look.
There had to be at least a hundred candles, some fresh, and far more of them half-burnt, lining the ground of the hotel to make up for the stars that had disappeared tonight. Maybe they'd just come down to enjoy the party.
He shook his head, making his way over to a ratty couch Dwayne had decided to make his home for the time being, and settled down beside him.
"Beer?" Dwayne offered him a bottle, and Michael happily took it, glancing over at David. The leader of the gang had settled himself into a wheelchair, tossing his coat over the back and leaning back with a relaxed sigh.
Across from them was a large defunct fountain, filled with metal scraps and what had once been what Michael could only have imagined was a glorious chandelier. A thin girl reclined there, throwing bedroom eyes at Michael while she ran a hand over the dirt beside the fountain as if it were water. She looked very pale. With the flickering light of the burning candles and oil barrels surrounding them, it almost looked as if blood was dripping from her wrist. If that were true, though, there was no way she'd be so calm.
Marko sat down beside her, accommodating the girl so she could rest her head in his lap.
"Want some more, Barbie?" Marko asked her, brushing a wisp of red hair away from the girl's forehead.
"Name'sh Shamantha," she slurred, closing her eyes and opening them again. " Please lemme-" she was cut off when Marko grabbed the hand she'd been running over the ground, and brought it to his lips, kissing the skin on the inner side of her palm, leading a trail down her wrist.
Michael chose that moment to look away, growing uncomfortable enough to focus on drinking his beer instead. Even if he didn't have his own arm candy, the music was good. The party was fun.
"Paul, stop hogging them!" Dwayne called out, only to be served with a dirty look from the rocker, who'd found one of his two groupies nestled against his shoulder. Michael took another gulp of beer, bewildered at how quickly she'd fallen asleep. Whatever they were smoking had to be pretty fucking strong.
He marveled at this strange place, this subterranean tribute to hedonism. Some of the oil barrels burned furiously, while others held mountains of cans and bottles in memory of celebrations past. It was nice for just a moment to pretend he was one of these guys, not the responsible son keeping his family together. The team captain with mediocre grades. Not just someone who'd seen his glory in sports and a couple of girlfriends, keeping his younger brother safe. Tonight, he was just Michael.
Dwayne stood up, trailing over to Paul's spare, but very lively girlfriend, then quickly knelt in front of her to cup the girl's chin in his hand. Paul glared at him, but said nothing, pulling the sleeping one into his lap and pressing his mouth against her shoulder bared by a fallen bra strap. Her tan line was so stark, even from where he was sitting Michael could trace it with his finger.
"Michael," David caught his attention, "having fun yet?" The blonde, who had for the most part always looked coolly amused, had a very strange look in his eyes now. Intense. If it weren't for the fire casting shadows and playing tricks, Michael could have sworn his eyes had turned gold.
He nodded, feeling oddly at peace when he met David's eyes. Suddenly, it didn't seem so weird that Paul and Marko were making out with narcoleptic beach bunnies. It was perfectly normal. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Dwayne slow dancing with his chosen partner, while the staticy radio melted into some song by The Doors. Strange Days.
It took a lot of effort to tear his eyes away from David's, and look down at his beer suspiciously. Had they put something funny in it? Why did he feel so relaxed?
Michael didn't see the unnatural way Dwayne pressed his dancing partner back, how rubbery her spine seemed to be as he dug his teeth into her neck and tore at fresh pink skin until blood welled up and drenched his face. He didn't see Marko scoop his own girlfriend into his arms and unceremoniously dump her into an empty space in the fountain. He didn't even see Paul's claws digging into the back of the unconscious girl beside him, viciously tugging at a gaping wound on her shoulder to get every last bit of blood he could.
To Michael's ears right now, the pitiful screams of Dwayne's partner melting into empty gurgles must have been something weird coming off of the radio. Like a DJ screwing around with the track and throwing in his own idiotic jokes.
David was standing over him now. All he could do was blink up at him and stare back at those hungry eyes. Definitely gold now. No trick of light.
"David?" Michael said his name, still calm, confused.
"Go to sleep, Michael. You can crash here tonight."
His beer fell from his hands, clattering to the hotel floor, and spilling out into a whitish froth, washing away thin trails of old blood staining the ground. Distantly, Michael felt a sharp pain in his wrist, but he was too tired to do anything about it.
Sam stared at the spread of crude drawings across the foot of his bed, glaring at each and every one of them with a critical eye. They were all 'okay', but none of them really provoked the terror he'd experienced at the jaws of the hellhound, in the grasp of the she-demon, or even hovering over the master dork-pire. There was one that looked passable enough to at least grab some attention, and as he reached for it Nanook took that opportunity to leap onto Sam's bed, scattering and crushing all of the drawings beneath him.
"Nanook!" Sam protested, trying to give the behemoth of a husky a good shove. Nanook whined in response, slumping down and placing his chin firmly in Sam's lap.
"Alright, boy, I know I haven't been paying a lotta attention to you lately," he relented, stroking behind one furry ear, "but I gotta pick out a good ad. Ed and Alan are coming over today, and we've got work to do!"
Nanook stared up at him, un-phased.
"So it's gonna be like that?"
A stubborn huff, followed by a couple of toothy yawns. The husky would have to be physically removed. Sam didn't have the heart to do it.
"Mom!" Sam shouted, "can you take Nanook out?"
"He's your dog, Sam!" Lucy called back, using the ultimate mom-voice to quell any possible arguments.
"Alright, move your fat butt," Sam commanded half-heartedly, leaning forward to tug a few crumpled drawings from beneath Nanook's immovable form. Most of them were throwaways. Oblong sketches of Bella Lugosi or that creepy thin vampire guy from silent movies, the one with the rat teeth. Edgar and Sam had sent him home after they'd cleaned up from the hunt yesterday and given him a stack of their ads to proofread. See which ones passed muster, or which ones would grab people's attention.
So far, it was just a mess. He'd have expected something a little more impressive, a little more professional. How long had they been hunting, anyway?
Maybe he could get Mike to help. His brother wasn't much for brains, so Sam would probably have to go into overtime just trying to teach him where a stake went, but Mike was strong. He was the muscle that neither Edgar, nor Alan, nor Sam had. Even combined they probably couldn't take him without pulling a dirty trick.
He wasn't home, though. Come to think of it, Sam hadn't seen his brother since yesterday afternoon, and he knew Mike wasn't in the house that morning when he'd woken up. His bike was gone. Weird.
A guttural whine from Nanook caught Sam's attention, "are you just needy today, boy?" Sam rolled his eyes, "okay. I'll take you out. See if Mike's back yet." He'd have heard him by now outside. The walls weren't exactly sound-proof.
Maybe Nanook could help, sniff out bloodsuckers if Sam got a hold of some grave dirt to help him remember the scent. Was that what they smelled like? Dirt? He scowled, remembering the little contact he'd had with the head vampire, and the only scent he could clearly remember was the heavy aftershave. Somehow Sam doubted they all smelled that bad. Did the other one smell like dirt? Not really. Blood and flowers, maybe. Something decaying beneath it. Like wet sheets left in the washer a little too long, or forgotten in the garage for a month.
By the time Sam was outside, he knew without a doubt his brother wasn't home yet. It had to be about twelve in the afternoon now. The sudden thought that a vampire had gotten to his brother grabbed at his heart and shoved it down into the pit of his stomach.
"Oh god," Sam exclaimed, unable to stop himself from picturing his brother in an alley somewhere, pale and drained of blood. Throat ripped open like a candy wrapper. He'd just be another picture on the local news, plastered on the thousands of missing persons billboards around Santa Carla. What would that do to mom? Would she go looking for him at night?!
Then maybe she'd come home, and crying, and go crazy. Maybe she'd pop a handful of valium before taking Nanook out to help search. Then they'd both end up as chew toys for the ungrateful dead. Shit! What was to stop the whole city's bloodsucker population from tracking him down and turning their Texas chainsaw house into an all-you-can-eat Emerson buffet?
Hopefully Mike would be home soon, before Sam convinced himself the world was ending in a bloody vampire apocalypse with him as the main course.
Hazy sunlight stretched through the entranceway of the hotel, stopping short long before it could reach the couch. Michael woke in the late afternoon, sluggish, exhausted. The bandage on his hand was missing. When he sat up, he pressed that same hand to his forehead, groaning. Felt like he'd been hit by a freight train, even though he knew he hadn't even finished one beer last night.
Last night. Shit. Mom was probably freaking out by now, and he seriously doubted Sam was making her feel better. Knowing his little brother, he'd probably be quoting missing persons ads from the paper, or bringing up that stupid vampire bullshit again. If it wasn't one thing, it was another. Sam really needed a hobby. Or a girlfriend.
Michael lowered his hand, examining the cut there. It wasn't getting any better. Looked just as fresh as when he'd been cut, except it wasn't bleeding. The skin around the edges were puckered a little. Was he scratching it open in his sleep, maybe? He'd have to just bite the bullet and go to a doctor, or maybe the clinic, and give dad a call to see if he could get some extra money.
He stood up, peering around the hotel lobby. In the dim light of day, what little he could make out, the place didn't seem quite so mystical. More like a disused junk room. Maybe the guys were around here somewhere sleeping it off. They had to be trashed.
Strolling around the room, he picked through odd piles of trash or junk, glanced at a couple of novelty photographs of David and the others dressed up like cowboys. Or maybe cattle rustlers. God knew how drunk they had to be when they decided to do that.
Michael finally wandered over to the wheelchair, settling down into it with a sigh. There was a lighter there and a pack of cigarettes on the ground nearby. Michael snatched up the lighter, and fashioned what he could out of what was available. A few old shirts, a stick with burnt edges discarded by the side of an oil barrel, and a dented can of lighter fluid. He felt like a leather-wearing boy scout right now. Or just a dumbass trying to waste time before he worked up the nerve to go home.
His makeshift torch wasn't pretty, nor safe, but it got the job done. He just had to find out if there was more to this place than just the lobby, or if the earth had eaten the rest of the hotel before the boys could claim it for their cozy little club.
A little voice told him this was a stupid idea. Hadn't he been through enough in the last few days? What if he stumbled into a pit and broke his leg, or got swarmed by rabid bats? Michael shrugged his doubts aside and walked towards the very edge of the lobby, where a thin stretch of cobweb curtain led into darkness. Black. Endless. He used the torch, dripping with sparks, to burn away at the spider silk until there was enough room for him to walk through.
At times, it felt like he was walking through massive caverns, precarious beams supporting bits of earth that only defied gravity for the hell of it. Then, there were places Michael thought he was going to find himself at a dead end, as narrow as his path became. At those points, he held his torch ahead of him to be sure he wasn't walking into a stubborn crevice. He always made sure the light was low enough so he could see where he was walking.
He didn't know why he was so curious, or being so stupid right now. Maybe the last few days of playing everything by ear with a group of maniacs was rubbing off on him. Distantly, Michael heard the sound of water. Not exactly rushing, but trickling. Like a faucet. He followed the sound, his footing growing more confident, his path becoming a little less difficult. Hopefully he wasn't just getting himself lost. Shouting for help would just bring the whole damn place down.
When Michael finally found the source of the trickling water, he very nearly tripped over something large and soft. His torch went flying, extinguishing itself once it smacked into the wall and rolled to the ground. A glowing red dot was all he could see, as it shifted into darkness.
"Shhhh-" he began a curse, catching himself short as he knelt down slowly to find out what he'd tripped over. Fuck, he hoped it wasn't a dead body. Why would there be a body here, though? That was stupid. David said this place went down decades ago, there was no way anybody who'd died would still have enough flesh left on them to be soft, and this was definitely soft. Definitely a person, too.
"Hey," Michael whispered under his breath, grabbing what felt like a cloth-covered shoulder. "You alive?"
A soft growl. It didn't sound human, but it had to be. Suddenly, Michael felt very small. The growl melted into a grumble, though, and finally ended. Then a hand with very sharp nails reached up to grip at Michael's shirt, and it was all he could do not to stumble back into god only knew what. He couldn't see anything, after all.
"Michael." It wasn't a question. It was a moody statement of fact.
"David?!" He blurted out in response, not sure whether he was relieved or even more freaked out.
There was a soft 'click', and a light flashed right into Michael's eyes, making him flinch and hold up a hand to shield his eyes. David was lying on a pile of flattened throw pillows, all of them old, and had very likely been there longer than either of them was even born. Then again, he couldn't really see well enough to judge.
"What the hell, man?" Michael demanded now, gradually calming down after he'd managed to blink a few times and the flashlight David directed at him was lowered enough to soften the glow.
"We didn't feel like driving home," David replied simply, his voice a little sluggish. He looked like hell. That party really must have been a shit-show after Michael crashed.
"Why didn't you stay out there?! Shit, you could get yourself killed back here." Never mind the fact that Michael had been blindly exploring the place for the last half hour.
Apparently he'd said something funny, because David burst out into eerie laughter so loud, it was multiplying into a barbershop quartet across the echoing walls of the cave. Michael grew a little nervous when he saw a small dusting of earth float down between them.
Once the laughter died, Michael could swear he heard rustling nearby, but managed to ignore it. He wasn't going to let this place get to him. The last thing he needed was for David to think he was afraid of the dark like Sam.
"Don't worry about it, Michael," David handed him the flashlight, "I'll be fine. We're always hanging around somewhere back here. It's safer than you'd think."
Michael narrowed his eyes, taking the flashlight without complaint, "don't you need one?"
"Nah," David waved him off, bringing his gloved fist to his mouth to hold back a yawn, suddenly looking even more like death warmed over. Clearly not a morning person. Day person. Whatever.
"You sure?"
"I've got plenty of flashlights. Go on."
Michael slowly stood up, wondering not for the first time whether it really was a good idea to hang out with these guys.
"Bye, David," Michael told him, determined that when he finally made his way out of there, he was going to spend a few good weeks at home doing absolutely nothing that could get his neck broken.
"Michael," David said his name just as he turned to leave.
"Yeah?" Michael paused mid-step.
"See you tonight."
"Yeah, I guess so."
Then, just like that, he was leaving. A numbing calmness seemed to spread down the back of his neck like an ice bath, chilling his spine. He'd come back tonight. Of course he would. There was no real reason he shouldn't, right?
Once the human had left, Marko, Dwayne, and Paul slithered through the darkness towards their leader, tired yellow eyes exchanging hungry looks. Hard not to go into survival mode when someone came nosing around.
"What was the point of that?" Dwayne's voice echoed in their minds together, on the collective wave of thoughts they exchanged as naturally as a living person might breathe. It was far more comfortable than talking.
"He should've taken the blood last night," David admitted darkly, "just a little warning. That's all."
"Can we go back up now? My back is fucking killing me," Marko complained. "Feels like I'm being stabbed."
David was all too happy to comply, and they all took flight to their perches above. One place of many.
"Okay," Lucy patted Sam's knee as she parked the car. "I have to pick up some groceries, so I won't be long, but have fun with your friends." Her thin smile wavered, just enough for him to know she wasn't quite as happy today as she pretended, "let me know if you see your brother, okay, honey?"
"Y-"
"I know he's grown, old enough to look after himself, but this is a new place. I don't know where he went, I don't know why, and it's just not like him. Not to mention all those poor children disappearing day in and day out. Honestly, Sam, I'm sure he's fine. I'm sure. I'm sure he is." She repeated that a few more times, just to reassure herself.
"Mom!" Sam stressed the word, "I'll let you know, alright?" Then it was his turn to fake a smile, "he's probably with a girl or something. Y'know. Muscle-brains and all that, he just didn't think he needed to call us."
"Don't call your brother that," she chided, "but you're probably right. I know this move has been rough, too, so I suppose both of you deserve to enjoy yourselves. Maybe Michael made a few friends like you did. He's always been very popular. There are probably a few gyms around here. If he did something silly, maybe drank something, I guess he decided not to drive home. I don't really want him to drink, but I don't want him to drink and drive either, and he really should have called-"
Sam gave her a funny look, "mom," he put a hand on her knee, "he's fine." It twisted his stomach into a knot and a couple of somersaults, lying to her like that, but Sam just couldn't tell her he thought his brother was dead. Not until he knew. She could be right, after all.
"Alright, I'll come back to pick you up when I'm done shopping. Do you need anything?"
"No," he shook his head, "well, maybe. I've been craving garlic lately. Lots of it."
She gave him an odd look, "garlic?"
Sam nodded, "yeah."
"Alright, if that's what you want, I'll get you some garlic."
"Lots of it."
Lucy paused, before finally nodding and laughing a little in response, "lots of it."
Despite her clear concern for Sam's odd cravings, she let him go and drove off, though she waited until he was safely surrounded by people. Sam gave his mom a reassuring wave, then rushed towards the comic shop, patting the folder he'd tucked safely under his brightly-colored coat. Thank god for unreasonably large inner pockets. The pictures he'd been sorting through on his bed were safe and sound, including a few new ones he'd spent the last few hours perfecting for their new ads. The ones they were going to plaster on every visible surface in Santa Carla. Screw getting a paper route, Sam wanted real money.
Okay, so maybe it meant he had to risk his neck just a little, and put his life in the hands of Edgar and Alan Frog on a regular basis, but they'd survived this long, hadn't they? Sam just had to make himself believe that they really were the great hunters they said they were, despite the fact that he was pretty sure dumb luck was the only real reason they'd survived their trip to the royal dork-pire's little slice of hell in the burbs.
Ed and Alan were pulling the same tricks they'd used to try to reel Sam in. Without the holy water. They were stalking a pair of customers through a couple of shelves, and he didn't need to be close enough to hear Ed's ominous warnings to know exactly what the gist of their conversation was. The irritated expressions on the couple's face as they fled the shops without buying anything spoke volumes.
How did they even keep this place open? Did people really like Batman enough to brave a trip here more than once? Or were there actual days when Ed and Alan didn't play the super-freak Rambo twins act?
"Hey," Sam waved at Alan to grab his attention. Edgar was still busy staring after the couple, and Sam could only imagine he was trying to look brooding as they walked away.
"You're here," Alan greeted him, or as close to 'greeting' as either of the Frogs would get. Not really the best at small talk, these two. "We thought you weren't coming in until tomorrow."
Sam shrugged, "mom was going out anyway, so I hitched a ride with her." He eyed the pair of them. Their battle scars from the dog were readily apparent, now that the Frog brothers had all the blood washed off of them. Alan especially seemed to have gotten the worst of it, his face riddled with scratches. As for his hands, they were pretty heavily patched, like he'd decided he might as well use the whole bandaid package in one go. As for Edgar, well, he didn't look too bad. Then again, he hadn't been the one forced to barricade a broken window against a furry demon dog.
"You got the ads?" Edgar walked over to Sam, holding out his hand expectantly.
"What, no please?" Sam replied, digging into his coat to pull out the folder, "I've got it narrowed down to about five. All we have to do is draw more of them, maybe check if the library will let us post on their bulletin board, and we're in business."
Edgar took the folder, flipping through the drawings, "where's the one I drew?"
"Uh, Ed, I'm not sure it really fit what we were going for…" Sam trailed off.
"Whatta you mean?" Ed straightened up, closing the folder and glaring back at him.
"He's got a point," Alan admitted, "I mean, what do vampire hunters have to do with yetis in bikinis?"
"It was summer themed!" Edgar snapped back at his brother. "The point was that it grabs your attention, speaks to you."
"If you want the yeti, we'll use the yeti," Sam relented, a little exasperated. That had been the first one to go in the trash, honestly.
Between the three of them, they somehow managed to agree on three of the ads Sam put in the folder, two drawn by Alan, one by Sam. Then, apparently, they were going to use the stupid yeti one too. Maybe they'd stick it up by a snow cone stand or something. Sam couldn't believe how fast the day was flying by when he glanced down at his swatch watch. Already three.
Alan glanced over Sam's shoulder, scowling and then giving his brother a quick nod before they split up, leaving Sam with the folder and absolutely no clue what they were about to do. Probably on another mission to drive an innocent bystander away.
"Sam?"
His eyes snapped open wide, and Sam spun around to face his brother, alive, in one piece. "Holy shit, Mike! Where the hell have you been?"
"Hanging around," Michael admitted quietly, "how's mom?"
"You're a real ass-monkey, you know that?" Sam snapped back, "I-we thought you'd broken your neck or something. Seriously, where the hell have you been?" He repeated it in an even higher pitch, as if he expected a better answer this time. Like Michael wasn't the older, usually more responsible of the two.
"I was hanging out and I fell asleep, that's all." Michael straightened up, just a little defensive, "not like I'm stupid enough to walk down a dark alley," he gave Sam's hair a bit of a ruffle, making Sam feel a little bit less irritated, "I did go home about an hour ago, by the way. Even left a note for mom, so calm down. I would've called."
Sam tucked his hands into his coat pockets, "she's going to be pretty upset when she sees you."
"Yeah," Michael agreed, "I know. Why do you think I came looking for you?"
"Oh, I get it, hide behind me cause you're too scared to face her alone?"
"I'm not-" Michael stopped talking abruptly, and that's when Sam noticed both of the Frog brothers peering over his shoulder like he'd suddenly grown a couple of extra heads.
Michael narrowed his eyes, "dude, both of you, back off." He didn't know what their problem was, but from what he'd gathered when he walked in, they seemed to be Sam's friends. So they got one strike before he decked them.
There was something about the pair that rubbed him the wrong way, and they hadn't even said anything. They weren't intimidating. Michael could take them both in a fight, easy. It wasn't just the fact that their apparent knowledge of personal space needed some work, either. They made him feel a little uneasy. Come to think of it, right now Sam was too. He chalked that up to his guilt, though, and shrugged it away.
"Sam, your friends are freaks," he stated flatly, once they'd finally given him some distance and instead exiled themselves to one of the back shelves. Still staring at him like he'd grown an extra arm or something. Maybe they were handicapped. Probably gave Sam discounts just to hang out with them.
"Ed and Alan?" Sam asked, as if he hadn't thought of it before, "they're alright. Just take some getting used to."
Michael rolled his eyes, "do you need a ride home?"
"Nah," Sam shook his head, "mom's picking me up soon. Wanna rip the bandaid off now and talk to her before she corners you at the house?"
He thought about that for a moment. Michael was old enough to know his mom couldn't really do anything to him if she was upset, but he really didn't like feeling like the bad guy. There was a pretty good chance she'd want him to stay home tonight, too, and that made Michael uneasy. He knew he'd go out again anyway, like he didn't even have a choice about it. He just was.
"I'm gonna go for a walk, see if there are any places hiring yet," Michael told him, not sure what else to say. Maybe there was a new job sign up somewhere. It couldn't hurt to put off going home for a couple more hours if he was doing something useful with his time. Plus, it'd give him a little more fresh air, maybe dissipate the smell of pot and old beer that was probably still clinging to his jacket.
"You sure?" Sam was getting upset all over again, "it's gonna be late soon."
"Your point?"
"V-" He cut himself off at a look from Michael. "I just want you to be safe!"
"Chill out, grandma," Michael slugged his little brother's shoulder, eliciting a yelp.
"Mike!"
"I'll be home tonight. Promise."
Summer was fucking incredible this year. They finally had their market cornered, a steady stream of regulars, and plenty of cash to last them until winter when all the joyriders dried up and went home. Worst case, they had a few girls always ready to turn some tricks for a few grams.
"I think I'm gonna treat myself," Gene said aloud, "get a new board." He'd been eyeing a nice one, but that tweaker from the pussy gang last week had stolen his cash before running off. If there was anything that ruined a Surf Nazi's night, it was those guys. Every time one of the gang tried to go after them, though, he ended up disappearing. They'd have to take the assholes on all at once, or corner one of them.
"Sounds good," Eric agreed, wiping at the traces of white under his nose and sniffing a little. They were chilling out on the beach together right now. A little nose candy, a few shots, there was no better way to finish up a day. Gene's trunks were still drying from his last swim, and it wouldn't be long before night hit like a ton of bricks. Santa Carla changed faces at night.
"I want to do something tonight," Gene decided aloud. He wasn't in charge. Their missing leader had gone off with his ball and chain last week, and they still had no god damned clue where. Probably an impromptu shag party. Whatever.
Anthony, the mohawk-sporting asshole bogarting all the nose candy, agreed. "Yeah, let's do something." Eric somehow managed to pry the little baggie away, spilling some in the sand.
"Shit!" Eric whined, trying to scoop up what he could.
"You're gonna sand-blast your nose if you try to snort that," Anthony advised him.
"Fuck if I care," Eric snapped back, trying to sift what he could through his fingers. He looked pretty stupid right now.
They bickered for a while, until Gene snatched the bag away to tuck safely into his wallet and shove into his drying swim trunks, "c'mon, let's go grab a burger." It was only three of them tonight. Everyone else was cruising Luna Bay for new customers. New hits.
So wouldn't you know it, right when they'd managed to get to their favorite greasy dive on the boardwalk, a little stall with no closing hours, they saw him.
"Hey, that the guy who kicked your ass?" Eric nudged Gene's shoulder, grabbing his attention.
Gene looked over at the leather-clad teen. He'd looked pretty clean cut the last time they met. Gene hid a smile, nodding. "Yeah, that's the one." Hard to miss. Maybe the guy didn't go out of his way to stand out, but it wasn't every day you saw those bikers picking up fresh meat to join them. Gene had seen them together a couple of times, regretted letting him go the last time they'd had a chance to get even without those assholes around to stop him.
"Hey, Tony," Gene glanced over at Anthony, holding out his hand, "pass me those knuckles, would ya?"