He was an early riser. Long before the sun had even begun to set, Quinton was standing beside the blacked-out window giving Alan and Ed directions like they were his trusted minions. Ed, for his part, was immediately under his spell...no thanks to his constant need to challenge anyone with a firm glare and grunt. It was at least the fifth time he'd been put into a trance, and Alan was starting to get a little frustrated with his brother. Especially now that he was crouching on the ground and polishing Quinton's shoes and wearing that patented goofy grin, as if he lived to do nothing else but please and worship the master vampire standing above him.
"We'll be going out to acquire some new attire tonight." He looked down at Ed, "You missed a spot."
Alan gazed at the window, then back at the vampire, knowing full well he probably wouldn't even be able to get one strip of tape off of the frame before something bad happened...possibly even to his brother…"they've got clothes in the closets here…" he mumbled, looking down at his feet and leaning against the wall. He could still see those poor people in his mind, being gutted and hung out to dry...they were just in the other room, so it wasn't as if he didn't have a good reason to remember it as clearly as he did.
"Nothing looked quite right, we'll find something tonight." He said again, closing the issue. Alan hated how he felt compelled to just accept it, like he was just as bad of a boot-licking assmonkey as Ed was right now. But he dropped it.
They had to ride in style. On the dead guy's credit card, no less. Because apparently the master vampire was too good for a station wagon. Never mind the paper trail they'd leave if police caught up to them after all of this was over. Of course that didn't seem to bother Quinton in the least and Alan hadn't bothered to explain it all either. The moment the sun was down, the master vampire was heading for the door, Ed at his heel like a dog.
The small shop that Quinton found for them to go 'shopping' in was soon closed and the people working were quickly drained to sate the vampire's hunger. In the face of all that blood, Alan struggled to maintain his self-control.
"If you ask nicely, you can have the leftovers." Quinton said absently as he started looking through the clothing.
"I don't want them!" Alan lied, covering his eyes and whimpering as he crouched down beside a shelf piled high with ties and trousers, using every single ounce of strength he had to keep from launching himself towards the lifeless bodies only ten feet away, staring up at the ceiling with the final images of Quenton bearing down on them burned into their eyes.
"It wouldn't count as a kill, of course, they are already dead." He pulled a shirt off the rack, looking it over.
Halflings could be so dramatic. Of course if he did take blood from any of them it would be far more difficult for Alan to control himself in the face of a living, breathing person. He tossed the shirt to the side. He had no plans of dressing himself like the brothers, modeling new attire off the shopkeepers and the previous owners of the house was the better choice.
Edgar obligingly held out his arms like proffered tree branches, every inch of available skin covered with a different tie to match any possible choice he could make. "Blue silk would bring out your eyes, master," he grunted.
"Master?!" Alan exclaimed, dropping his hands from his face, "Ed! Get a hold of yourself! That's a vampire you're talking to! He just killed three people! Two more last night! He's a monster, a blood-sucking fiend, a glutton, an unholy shadow-pig!" He was one to talk, with his eyes glazed black and teeth at the ready to tear into the nearest available target.
A look of confusion flitted across Edgar's face, and he shook his head a couple of times, slowly beginning to come out of his daze, before immediately caught in Quinton's gaze once more, and settling down. He raised his arms a little higher so he could get a better look at the ties.
"Alan," he chided, "mind your tongue, or do we need another lesson?" He looked at Edgar meaningfully, "Shadow-pig, really? I'm sure you can come up with something better than that." He plucked the blue tie from his arm, sliding it on, yes, this would do nicely. He adjusted a black blazer so it settled right on his shoulders, "Get me that shirt." He pointed to one on the other side of the store.
Edgar turned around, swiveling mechanically as he marched towards the shirt, while Alan stood far away, not even bothering to lift a finger while he quivered and shook like a recovering addict, tinged with just a little bit of restrained outrage.
"Alan," he turned his gaze to the halfling, "you will behave yourself, yes?"
The young man challenged him merely by remaining silent. He expected an answer when he asked a question and he would have one.
"Alan." He warned, "I expect an answer."
"What's that even mean, huh?" Alan glared over at him, "I'm a hunter. I hunt. I don't know what you want from me."
"You're not a hunter anymore. It's time you stopped acting like one. You'll be making your first kill soon, you need to accept that and move forward."
"If I did, then Sam would stake me. You can bet on that," Alan promised him, drawing his shoulders back.
"Sam will be learning the same lesson when we locate him."
"It should only take about half an hour to drive there, master," Edgar added helpfully as he brought the shirt back to him, "Santa Carla's pretty close."
He chuckled softly, "Thank you, Edgar, for being so helpful." Praise was a wonderful thing, when earned of course, hopefully Alan would be earning his soon. It should only take a few more hours, just in time for them to find the other one, before his cravings got the better of him. He'd be more than biddable, if it meant giving in to them.
The night after Sam got to enjoy the taste of a barn owl squirming in his arms and staining his precious coat with bloody feathers, they paid a visit to grandpa and Lucy.
"Michael! Sam!" Lucy exclaimed as she pulled open the door and placed a delicate hand to her chest, "you should have told me you were coming tonight!" She chided, seeming to have recovered enough from their revelation a few days ago...at least enough not to burst into tears when she locked eyes with her youngest.
"Sam's got something to tell you," Michael firmly nudged his brother through the door. He'd pretty much already quit his job today, and had a pretty long chat with the younger Emerson. Now it was Sam's turn to make good on what they'd agreed to.
"When this is over, I'm going to go back to school, no more hunting." He said softly, looking at the ground.
"Over?" Lucy asked hopefully, putting her hands on Sam's shoulders and meeting his eyes, "you've found a way for you boys to go back to normal?!"
He glanced at Michael, not sure what he should say, if he should tell her that Sam would be but Michael...Well, he'd just signed up for the blood train.
"Don't worry, mom. Everything'll be fine," Michael added, stepping into the house and closing the door behind them, "something smells good. You make enough for a few extra plates?"
Lucy's smile fell for just a moment, but recovered just as quickly, "there's eggplant in the oven. Mashed potatoes...Sam, honey, why don't you help me set the table, and you can tell me all about what you've been doing with yourself...aside from...that…" she smiled weakly as she led her youngest through the house, while Michael remained behind, turning back to the door and peeking through the peephole.
David stood, leaning against a tree, at the edge of the lawn. He gave a little salute when he saw him, he was waiting, watching, they would see anyone that showed up before anyone in the house did. The other boys were back further, prepared to uphold their end of the deal so Michael would come home.
He was, in a way, relieved to get all of this over with. Granted, he actually enjoyed his job, but it wasn't as if he had to work to pay rent to live in a...a cave. Honestly, the more he thought about it, the less Michael even really understood why he'd fought so hard to keep his apartment, to keep his job, to have the 'option' of daytime beach trips, when he rarely ever left the house before two.
Then he saw it...and Michael quickly slipped outside of the house, closing the door behind him so he could get a better look. A red viper sped down the road, tossing up gravel and dirt in the misty smoke it left behind it, before roughly pulling into the driveway, and nearly colliding with one of grandpa's carved totem projects.
The man that stepped out was well dressed but Michael immediately knew that he was other, like Sam. David was striding forward smoothly, making his way to the other vampire. Then, the Frog brothers slowly climbed out on the other side of the car, peering out at the pair with no small measure of fear plastered on their faces. Michael snorted and shook his head, crossing his arms to watch the spectacle unfold in front of him.
David's face was blank as he stopped in front of the other, the boys coming up behind him, "So, you're the one who made a couple halflings and let them loose." He paused, "Welcome to Santa Carla, my territory."
The intruder maintained a stiff expression, "I've come to fetch one of them, so you needn't worry for long. I have little interest in...lingering in such a quaint little town like this one. I detest the smell of fish."
David chuckled softly, "Well, see, that's where we have a little problem. Sam, the one you came to collect, well, he's the little brother of my halfling and, well, I'm sorry to say he doesn't take too kindly to having Sam become like him. I'm afraid that we're going to have to have a little conversation about that. After tonight, we need Sam back to normal…" He trailed off, shrugging, "I'm sure you can see the problem here."
The stranger drew himself up to his full height, smoothing out his tie and idly glancing down at his freshly manicured nails, "yes. It appears we do. I'm really not inclined to give up something once I decide it's mine. Sam and Alan behind me," he indicated the cowering Frog brother, who clearly had trouble wrapping his mind around the fact that David and the boys were alive and well, "are mine. They rudely interrupted my sleep, and I fully intend to teach them a lesson for doing so. Tell me, though, do you have anything to offer? I'm willing to negotiate."
"I'm always up for making a deal. We've been awake longer than you have, nice clothes by the way, and I happen to know of a few groups of hunters who would benefit from your unique brand of education." He smirked, "If that doesn't meet your obviously high standards I'm sure we can discuss something else."
That got his attention, "that might be...amusing. And all you want is...Sam, is that it?"
He glanced back at Michael briefly, "Should probably ask for both of them, I don't care much for the little shits behind you but I gotta make the request. Sam though, he's primary. That is if they're willing to leave my city and never come back, what happens after that, well, fair game." Of course he meant that if the other vamp still wanted Alan, he could make a show of letting him go only to pick him up later.
There was a moment of silence, while they sized each other up, before the intruder finally broke the silence, "very well. They're amusing, but hardly worth the effort of fighting for," he snapped his fingers...and Alan dropped to the ground, throwing up torrents of brightly-colored blood into the driveway. Lucy's screams echoing inside the house indicated a similar scene was likely occurring there as well.
"Handy if you don't want a halfling anymore and want to let them go. We don't have that option." It was morbidly fascinating to watch, David couldn't bring himself to look away.
"Edgar," the vampire turned towards the brothers, smiling congenially, "you may want to get him cleaned up. Also, please be sure not to follow me. Next time, I don't think I'll be quite as nice." He glanced back at David, "shall we discuss the details of those hunters you mentioned, then?"
"Yes, I believe we shall, want to go somewhere more comfortable?" There was an all night coffee shop they could settle in to discuss further details, "Or we can just finish up here."
"I'd rather not get blood on my shoes...they were just polished."
Sam had never felt as sick as he did right now. Lucy was panicking as he retched again. Who knew owl tasted as bad coming up as it did going down? He panted for breath, sweat beading on his face, was he dying? Did something go wrong? A groan escaped his lips as he flopped over on his side, hoping the worst of it was over.
"Michael!" Lucy was screaming for him, kneeling down beside her youngest, brushing his hair back from his face, "Michael, where are you?"
"Mom? I think I'm dying." Sam groaned, looking up at her, his stomach gurgled angrily.
"DAD!" Lucy shrieked, "DAD, CALL 911!"
"He'll be fine, mom," Michael rasped as he stepped into the kitchen and stared down at his brother, "I think he's just getting it all out…"
"Michael, please, god...tell me what's happening!" Lucy stared up at her eldest with tears in her eyes, pulling Sam's head into her lap now that he'd finally stopped vomiting. Sam was sure it made for a very 'Hallmark on acid' family picture.
"He's fixed. Sam, you're human again," Michael shrugged, kneeling down to examine his brother's face, "after you take a shower, if you're up for it, you might want to help those two dorks outside into the house. He almost sounded amused by the whole scenario. "Edgar's crying like a baby."
The old man scrambled into the kitchen, and laid eyes on the three together, and then took a deep breath, "somebody wanna tell me what's going on in here?!"
Sam gave him a weak smile, "Someone wanna help me into the shower? I feel like shit."
"Sam, honey, we need to take you to the hospital," Lucy whispered, placing her hands on Sam's cheek, not caring that she'd gotten blood all over her crisp white apron.
"Not gonna do much good," Michael told her dryly as he climbed up and sat down at the kitchen table. She looked over at him incredulously, unable to even begin to find the right words.
"What? What did I do?" He scowled.
"Michael...Emerson…" She stammered, then held Sam even closer as her father stomped out of the kitchen to fetch a mop and a bucket.
"What?!" Now Michael was getting defensive. He didn't see what the big deal was. "He's fine, all they're going to do is charge you a bill and give him a stomach pill or some shit…there's not a treatment plan for a recovering blood-drinker, mom..."
"Sometimes I honestly don't even know how to talk to you anymore," she replied quietly, smoothing her hand through Sam's sweaty locks, "I'll help you get to the bathroom, honey. Do you need me to wash your hair for you?"
Sam nodded before looking at Michael, scowling slightly, "Michael?"
"Yeah?" His brother looked down at him, propping his chin up on his hand as he leaned against the table. "You think you're going to be okay, Sam?" He added belatedly, as if that somehow made up for him being a dick just a few moments ago.
"Yeah, but Michael…" He looked at him pointedly as if to say, what about you?
"I'm gonna go have a smoke and check on your friends outside...see if they can make it to the door," Michael sighed, climbing to his feet and stalking out of the kitchen, just in time for their grandpa to nudge by with his cleaning supplies.
"Once you're all done getting yourself cleaned up, Sam, you're gonna clean this up too…" he grumbled.
"Dad, he almost died!" Lucy snapped, holding her youngest even closer, practically smothering him in the process.
Sam glared at him, "Sorry, at least I'm not half anymore?" He rolled his eyes.
Trauma has a funny way of making grown men act like children, when all's said and done. For Sam and the Frog brothers, once they'd all managed to recover enough from the night to be able to string together cohesive sentences, it was no different. Just past midnight, once Sam had finally convinced Lucy he did not in fact have to sleep in her bed with her just in case, nor did he need a night light, all three of them had settled together on the living room floor, and were quietly flipping through old comics.
Not vampire comics.
"You think they're going to come back and finish us off?" Edgar asked, glancing over his shoulder, having sobered up just enough to remind himself they weren't yet out of the woods yet. There was a whole pack of bloodsuckers out there, and they definitely weren't on their good side…
Sam shook his head, "I don't think so...Michael hasn't come back since going outside to smoke…"
Alan squinted at the comic in his hand, examining a fuzzy speech balloon and trying his best not to think, but...well, he wasn't doing a very good job of it. "How does he handle it? For this long?"
"Honestly, I have no idea. I almost snapped and he just reined me in and stopped me from doing something stupid. I dunno how he's managed for 8 years."
"We could do him a favor. Pay him back...save him…" Edgar suggested, "it would just take an afternoon and a couple of sta-"
Both Alan and Sam looked at him with an expression of sheer incredulity.
"Or not…" He trailed off, sticking his nose back in the comic he was reading.
Sam looked toward the window, "Mike? Where are you?"
He could go inside now. He could spend the night, put everything off until the next day. As long as the boys didn't show up again to get him, Michael was pretty sure one more night wouldn't hurt. Then he heard the sound of their bikes roaring in the distance, and cursed under his breath as he tossed his last used-up cigarette butt to the ground, grinding it under his shoe.
They were far louder in their approach tonight than usual. Because they didn't give anyone knew they were there. He could actually hear them howling into the night air, and a part of him wanted to join in, but he held himself back. Didn't want to wake mom up, or get Sam running outside to stick his nose in where it didn't belong.
David pulled up, skidding to a stop right in front of him, "Ready, Michael?" He smirked, "Where's your bike?"
He nodded towards Sam's car, "it's in the driveway. You sure this can't wait another night?" He asked, a hint of hope in his voice. This was a major step in a direction he'd been fighting for 8 years now, he felt like just...giving in...would pretty much make all of his hard work and self-denial practically pointless.
He rolled his eyes, "You've had 8 years, let's go home."
Michael looked back at the house, debating whether he'd bother to stick around for a few minutes to say his goodbyes...but it wasn't like he was leaving forever. He'd come back. He'd visit. He hadn't made any kind of agreement to cut off ties with his family. "I don't see why I can't have one more night," he grumbled under his breath as he headed towards his bike.