Author's note: Honestly, I like classic country music, but somehow I doubt a bunch of hair metal biker vampires from California would be too hot on it. Anyway...copious bloodshed and violence is about to occur in this chapter.
"There's nothing but shitty country on this thing," Marko whined, flipping through the songs on the beat-up bar jukebox. "The sooner you two eat, the better, I can't handle the crap music in these hick towns anymore," he added for good measure before reluctantly settling on 'Blood Red and Goin' Down'. At least the name was cool. Then he gave the jukebox a good kick of frustration before striding back towards the booth Michael and Star were tucked in, flopping down beside Star and throwing an arm around her shoulders. She flinched, but remained silent, digging her nails into the scratched up old table top in front of her, staring straight ahead at Michael.
It was only now she'd noticed the liberties the others had taken with his clothes too. Sure, he still had the same jacket, but his shirt was black...probably to hide the bloodstains David no doubt expected would blossom there later if Michael wasn't able to keep control of himself. She tried to lean forward and catch a glimpse of the rest of him, see if they'd at least let him keep his old Levis, when she felt the pressure of Marko's clawed hand on her shoulder easing her back into place. She didn't struggle, because that was part of the deal. But oh how she desperately wanted to find something sharp and jam it in his hand right then and there. There was a feral quality to that urge, something inhumanly dark and vicious. She didn't know whether thinking about it too much would be a good idea...but the image of Marko screaming in pain and drawing away like a frightened animal gave her a secret sort of glee.
Michael's blue eyes stood out in his drawn face, as he focused on Star, and fought back the impulse to try and do the very thing to Marko she had imagined doing herself. They couldn't have any idea how similar their thought process was at that moment, but David relished listening in from the comfort of a bar stool, while Paul happily polished the counter top as he tied an apron about his waist and played house. They'd just flipped on the neon 'open' sign at the front of the building, so any minute now the game would really be kicked into full gear.
"Just so we're clear, I've got Mikey. That means, he bites first...I win. Got it?" Paul's thought rang in Marko and David's minds, hidden from the halfies sitting at their little booth together quietly, too stubborn to play nice enough even to talk about the weather. But that would change, soon enough, once they finally fucking gave in. And weren't they just being so self-righteous about it, too. Like martyrs. Sitting there and pouting, he could just see them now strung up on crosses. It was more than a little irritating. After all, you didn't see him making a fuss about it when David made him eat his cousin back in the twenties. Granted, she was a bitch, but she was still his cousin! And they couldn't even bring themselves to chow down on complete strangers?!
"I've got Star," Marko joined in quietly. He was increasingly delighted that his attentions were practically making Michael and Star squirm in their seats. As sweet as he may look when his fangs weren't out, he had a pretty sick sense of humor, even for a vampire.
"Both of them. At once." David clarified, looking back and forth between the other vampires while he leaned back against the bar and let smoke drift out of one corner of his lips, smirking. He'd cheat if he had to. He didn't plan on losing this bet. His remark had a second meaning, though. Both of them. At once. When the bet was over, and they submitted to the blood lust, they'd be very compliant, after all...
"And you call me a horny fucker!" Paul cackled aloud, causing Michael and Star to jump, their gazes sliding towards the bar to look at him in confusion.
"...I really don't want to watch that, Davey. Can't you keep it in your pants until we get home?" Marko added, biting on the thumb of his glove as he watched David throw a warning scowl between them.
"...The fuck are you two talking about?!" Michael blurted, panicking. He didn't understand a god damned thing they were saying, and he didn't want to, either. But then he recalled the dream...and felt sick to his stomach.
"You know something, Star? First time I ever saw you, I thought...fuck, that's some curly hair. Wonder if the curtain matches the drapes." Marko leaned in close to Star's ear, grinning all the while as he spoke.
"I could say the same thing to you," she replied, looking at the wall, a muscle in her jaw twitching as she gritted her teeth in an attempt to restrain herself. Just an hour. This would just be an hour. Already five minutes down. Just fifty-five to go.
"Back off," Michael ground out.
Don't get jealous, Michael. That's what he wants! Star wished he could read her mind in that moment, nervously pressing a foot forward under the table to brush against his calf in an effort to calm him.
"Play nice, kids, sounds like we got some customers," David called out as the entrance to the door opened and a group of burly bar-flies poured in. About eight in all, each hairier and more age-worn than the last. Not a terribly appetizing sight. But enough to send both Michael and Star's pulses raging as they picked up the scent of human blood in the air. After they'd been drained so effectively, the hunger would be stronger now than either of them had ever known.
"Where's Bill?" The gruffest member of the group croaked, sitting down at a stool and giving Paul a dismissive snort. "Why's he got some kid who's balls ain't even dropped workin' back there tonight?" He added, scratching at his hairy chin before he adjusted a grease-stained trucker cap on his head to cover his balding pate.
"Billy-boy went on a break. Said he'd like me have a go at it, one night only." Paul replied, grinning and chuckling as if the remark about his balls was the funniest thing he'd heard since they actually had dropped several decades ago. Probably because he was imagining what he'd do to the guy for saying it.
"That don't sound like Bill," another man called out as he crossed to the other side of the bar and pulled three pool sticks from a rack, passing them to two of his companions before snatching up a chalk square.
The remaining four men took their seats at a table facing the booth Star, Michael, and Marko were nestled in. One of them, gangly and grinning with a mouthful of rotting teeth, was more than a little interested in the only chick in the bar...especially with the eye-full he was able to get of her chest through that top. By the looks of things, he thought she was begging for it. And Star...she forced herself to begin counting down the seconds as she focused on the table-top and examined the scratches she'd carved into the wood.
"Gimme a beer on tap, boy," the man at the bar shouted at Paul, "and a round for the rest of us, huh?" He glanced over at David, who watched him intently, tapping his cigarette in a dirty ashtray on the counter top.
"Boy, huh?" Paul bobbed his head, "alright. That's cool. Yeah...I can do that, no problem."
"You got a problem, little man?" He straightened up to his full height, glaring at David through his red-rimmed eyes. The man was the worst kind of alcoholic. The kind who pre-gamed, gamed, post-gamed, and pretty much drank so much throughout the day that there was a higher proof in his veins than a bottle of rotgut.
David narrowed his eyes, a dangerous warning in them that belied his smug grin. "No, no problem at all." He nodded to Paul, "treat him real nice, Paul. You know what I mean?"
Paul's grin matched his own as he leaned forward on the bar and crossed his hands in front of himself, "I don't know, Davey. Do you know what he means, Marko?"
Marko looked towards the bar, slowly pulling his arm from around Star, to her immense relief, "no, I don't know what he means, Paul. What about you, Michael?"
Michael looked up at the ceiling, "go to hell. All of you. I'm not going to say it."
"Say what?" David quirked an eyebrow, innocently. 'Innocently'.
"'I don't know what he means, do you, Star?'" Michael mimicked, immediately scowling when he realized he'd just been tricked into saying it anyway.
The Lost Boys trained their eyes on Star expectantly, and the remaining patrons in the bar did as well, a little more than confused exactly what kind of scene was playing out right now.
"I know what he means," Star finally sighed. "And I don't like it."
"You kids are weird," one of the men shook his head as he wracked up the balls and prepared his shot. "Clearly you ain't from around here," he added, taking in their appearances. "You're dressed real funny. When I was your age, I wore normal clothes," he directed his attention particularly at Marko, eyeing the cut-off t-shirt with more than a little disdain. The word 'faerie' rolled around in his mind, and small-town bar manners prompted him not to say it until he had a few more drinks. Marko had already picked his meal for the night.
"I sure do," the man who had yet to take his eyes off of Star even for a second remarked, giving her a good...long once-over. Focusing on one area in particular. She blushed furiously, reaching for Michael's hand across the table again, making it clear she wasn't interested.
"Hey..." One of the other men at the table craned forward, "what's wrong with you kids?" He'd just noticed the gashes on Michael and Star's necks, when a few droplets of blood fell onto Star's hand as she leaned towards her companion.
"Cut themselves shaving," David remarked dryly.
"I ain't never seen a girl like that had to shave her neck," the man replied doubtfully.
That was when Paul had finally poured the jerk at the bar his beer, and crossed the room to quietly lock the door, turning back and pressing himself up against it with a sneaky little smile. "I can tell you one place she doesn't shave, if you play nice," he snickered as his fangs descended.
And David proceeded to push himself away from the bar as well, now that the most impulsive member of their little pack had decided to spill the beans less than ten minutes in to the party.
"I was hoping for a little more cat and mouse," he sighed, though not too terribly upset. The fucker who'd been snapping at him was beginning to get on his nerves.
"What the hell?!" One of the men shouted, reaching for a gun under his jacket, when Marko leapt straight across the bar and sailed over the pool table to attack. A shot rang out in the bar, blowing him back against the ceiling in a splatter of blood and shattered stucco. The three men surrounding the pool table gaped up at him as his lifeless body seemed to cling there, suspended above them like some kind of gruesome chandelier...before he came crashing back down, totaling the pool table beneath him.
Paul and David watched silently, while Star very slowly tried to pull herself out of the booth, though she hardly had enough energy to even move. Michael looked at her, eyes wide, but he remained silent. Maybe...maybe they'd be distracted long enough so she and him could get away...
Time seemed to stand still as the music on the jukebox died, and Marko remained motionless...until the man with the smoking gun leaned forward to poke at him with a cue stick...and that was when he pulled up, laughing wildly, snatching the only somewhat useful weapon the man had, though he likely didn't even know it...and throwing it against the wall to watch it shatter into a thousand pieces. His victim screamed as Marko pulled him close, coughing up his own blood, and only too happy to replenish it with his prey's own.
The other players quickly dropped their own cues and tried to make a run for it, only to run smack into Paul, and he wrapped his hands around their necks, "game's not even over yet, boys!" He cackled, squeezing, squeezing, and...grinning even wider when he felt the satisfying squish and crack of their crushed windpipes and shattered neck bones.
Star had reached the edge of the table now, and tried...oh how she tried to push herself to her feet...and she only managed to stumble into a graceless heap on the ground.
"Come on, honey, I'll protect you," the greasy man at the table whispered, jumping out of his chair to rush towards her. There was little chivalry in his motivations, but if he somehow got some tail before these demons tore him to pieces, that would be enough. Clearly she wasn't capable of doing much else than letting him have a go of it anyway.
"Star..." Michael rasped, but before he could say much more, a new song was blaring from the jukebox, loud enough to drown out the screams that would fill the bar. Ironically, it was a very cheery one too, 'I've Got a Tiger by the Tail', by Buck Owens. Not that any of them knew that.
"Guess it's my turn," David stepped towards the man with the beer, and there was nothing of the gruff front he'd been displaying only a few minutes before. No...he was pissing his pants.
"...Ugh..." David wrinkled his nose, "well, you just got lucky. I'm not going to eat you," he sighed, and a grateful smile spread across the man's lips before it was immediately wiped from his face as he crumpled to the ground. David pulled his bloodied hand away from a gaping cavity in his victim's chest.
"...Fuck, Davey, you should've ripped out his balls! Could've made a good joke! Something like 'I guess yours finally dropped', y'know? Or...or maybe 'this is nuts!'..." Paul complained, when the remaining three men seated at the table near Michael and Star tried to make a break for it to the locked door.
Marko pulled his bloodied mouth away from his quarry, snickering at Paul, "dude, Paulie, that was...that was really fucking stupid."
Paul shrugged, rounding on the men who'd rushed for the door and sailing towards them with an insane cackle.
"GOING SOMEWHERE?!" He shouted, voice feral and deep.
The greasy bastard pressed up against Star on the ground, running his fingers through her hair, whispering soothing words against her head while he kept his eyes trained on Michael as if to say 'you're a pussie. Why aren't you down here getting one last squeeze before you die, kid?' And god, how he wanted to really tear the fucker's throat out...watch the crimson spill over his hands, lick it up from the ground while the man just stared in horror at his life draining away in a puddle around him. '45 minutes left', Michael gritted his teeth. '45 minutes left, and we're safe. Don't...don't do anything...'
But what would he do if Star was hurt?! What would he do if the others just watched, let this fucker get away, drag her out into the night as if he was rescuing her, just so he could toss Star in the bed of his truck and stick his dirty-
"STAR, NO!" Michael shouted, as the thread of control in her finally snapped, and she seized towards the man who'd wrapped her in his arms, digging her teeth deep into his neck and shrieking as blood bubbled up from his skin into her mouth in quick hot spurts. And as she caved, he could see the horror of her actions fade away from her face...replaced by a dark, wonderful glee. The part of him he'd been holding back, the part she'd been helping him control, loved the sight. And the other part...the remaining will to keep fighting and running and doing anything he could to remain free from the Lost Boys...began to fade in the face of his hunger.
On cue, David grabbed one of the thrashing men from Paul, and he was doing quite a good job of somehow restraining three men at once. Dragging the man across the bar, he tossed the victim directly at the last remaining member of his pack left un-turned, only too happy to witness how the blood lust would take over. A thrill ran down his spine as he reached down to stroke through Star's hair, keeping his eyes trained on Michael. Star groaned through a mouthful of blood, struggling to chase every single drop she could.
And Michael, oh god...it was coming back. That same feeling he'd had on the road, or when he was swimming in the lake with Star chasing geese, but this time he knew there was no one left to hold him back. Not even himself. With one last sad glance at the girl on the ground, face painted red, eyes glowing gold now and forevermore whenever she ate...he let himself go.
The first drop on his tongue when he bit into the man's throat, surprised at how easily the skin seemed to split...the first drop was hell. Hell, because it made him even hungrier. From then on, absolute heaven, as ironic as it was. He would always be cold now, but it was changing. Becoming something more...natural...comfortable. Growling into his victim's neck, he rode on a sea of ecstasy and pain, as his soul was ripped free from his chest and replaced with a monster, sewn into him, permanently fixed into his very being.
Michael Emerson was gone. Star was gone. And now...they were going home. David won, but what's more...he also won the bet.
The music finally died with the last two victims in the bar, both claimed by a still ravenous set of fledglings, who by now were past caring what or who they killed as long as they could continue to drink and be and live forever in a river of blood. And David's laughter rang throughout the building.
They'd be furious later when they came back to themselves, of course. But for now...he'd never been more proud.
Marko cleared his throat. "You know, Davey...technically I'm the one who actually won the bet...just putting that out there."