Disclaimer: I once again own nothing to do with The Lost Boys and never will. But a girl can dream though, I suppose lol. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, I hope you find enjoyment in this chapter. Thank you to Aimz-Hesketh, Wainwright, SunlitMercy (and especially for your lovely words; this chapters for you!), Anon, Southernvampirepirate, Bri, and Hollywood Angel. Again I really hope you like this chapter! :)

Chapter Thirteen

Darkness surrounded me, trapping me, enclosing around me like a cage.

I lean my head against the rock wall, squeezing my eyes tightly shut, my heart pounding loudly in my ears. Thud, thud, thud... And then the sound slowly became more distant, until it finally faded, and then there was nothing around me except the darkness again.

And then voices; voices and footsteps intermingled...

"Whoa, bud. Was somebody massacred in here?"

Silence.

"Look over there – there's blood. Think it's Ruby's?"

"Hmm. I don't know Marko." David's dry voice. "Why don't you go taste it and see?"

Laughter. "Ugh, I'm right. Thanks, pal..."

"Ruby?"

Susie? My eyes pop open. I realize four eyes are watching me, observing me, glancing around the room, and then I see her. She runs around the bed to me and throws her arms around my shoulders. And then she sees it – maybe even smells it. The blood. Before I can register what is happening, her small body starts twitching. She backs away slowly, her small hands dangling at her sides, and then a low growl issues from her chest.

No!

"Marko." It was all David had to say. His voice is low, full of warning.

Marko is immediately at her side, taking firm hold of her arm, dragging her away from me. It was then that I caught sight of her eyes while he was holding her back, keeping her restrained as she reached out for me, her little hands clawing the air; dark, red horrifying irises.

She was ready for a quick and easy kill...

Another growl comes from deep inside her. "Whoa, hold it, little sister," Marko says gently, trying to placate her without success. She strains against the hold he has on her arm, her top lip quivering as she exposes her fangs at me.

If it wasn't for Marko restraining her, I probably would have closed my eyes tightly shut, surrendered to her and to the added pain she would have been inflicting on me. Instead I was there gawking at her, wide-eyed in fear and shock, cowering in the corner like some pathetic little rat, my back pressed against the hard rock wall of the cave, arms shielding me.

I had never seen Susie like that before, only in my nightmares. I never assumed it would be possible to see her like that... It depressed me. It was as if she had forgotten who I was – who she was, in that instance. I wasn't the older sister to her any longer; I wasn't part of her family, just a mindless quick cuisine to feast on.

David gave me a side-long glance, then looked at Marko, whose arms were failing against Susie as she tried to break free of his grasp. He didn't seem to speak; he pointed his unshaven chin out into the opposite direction and I thought I saw Marko smile wickedly. He gave me a little wave before turning and pulling Susie along with him, her feet stumbling and dragging across the ground as she held my gaze, another deep growl ripping through her chest, her fangs slightly even more exposed.

And then they were both gone.

Suddenly the room is very still, quiet, in her absence. Dwayne and Paul stand, frozen, staring down at me. And then they too leave, their boots scratching against the dirt and rocks with every step they took. It was only me and David now.

I think I was finally beginning to understand: while I was like this, to Susie – to them – I was nothing more than food.

And then David came slowly toward me. He kneels down in front of me, and I hold my breath, frightened for what would be coming next. Had he realized then that it was too much difficulty? Would he force me into becoming one of them, the very thing that I hated the most? I try to breathe slowly and deeply to get over the shock as he takes my injured foot between his cold hands.

For a moment I think he is going to pull the shard of glass straight out, and I brace myself for the pain. But what he did next was something I didn't imagine or anticipate from him at all; his eyes held mine for a long moment. There was a darkness in his glazed slate blue eyes that unnerved me. It was almost as if he was trying to communicate something with them of some sort, some warning or flicker of reassurance. And then he licked his lips, his tongue darting out slowly to moisten his lower lip.

And then he lowered his head.

What is he doing? What the hell is he doing?

And then he put his mouth directly over the cut. My heart races as his lips part slightly and then the stinging of the wound becomes increasingly evident as his tongue comes into contact with my skin. My breathing went quick and shallow and my pulse quickened as the skin around the cut felt tight against the pressure he was exerting with his mouth.

Was he... sucking out the blood? A plethora of unanswered questions came about in my head, the more important question: Why was he doing this?

The softness of his lips was overshadowed by the rubbing of his bristly chin against the tender skin, leaving it feeling sore and raw. I felt sickened as I suddenly imagined blood to be seeping out, being extracted. And then he withdraws, at last, removing his mouth from my skin. He leaned back, licking his lips again, his eyes twinkling. And then he slowly stood.

Unexpectedly, there was no throbbing or pain coming from the wound any longer. I sat there, frozen, still for a long moment, trying to wrap my head around what just happened. And then I sat up straight and peeked down at my foot.

There was nothing there. Not even a scar or any sign of blood...

It was as though I had imagined the whole thing, conjured up in my head the whole incident. There was no glass stuck in my foot, no puncture wound or evidence to show for it. But I was certain I hadn't imagined it – the dried, dark blood on the mattress was a sure-fire sign of that. Yet how did it heal so quickly?

I suddenly felt in a panic. "Did you do that?" I ask David, my voice coming out small and wobbly. "Did you make it heal?"

I realized it was probably foolish of me to accuse David of such assumptions, but at that moment I couldn't seem to care. When I looked up at David, I didn't understand the expression on his face. He looked defensive, on edge, for some reason, his arms crossed against his chest.

He grunted loudly. "Maybe I did, but then maybe I didn't..."

I opened my mouth to say a quick thank you, but then he turned his back on me, striding over to one of the bedside tables, his coat flapping against the light breeze that came with the quick movement. He strutted back over toward me and I flinched as I saw him hold something down to me.

"Now why don't you drink some more of this, Ruby," he says, tilting the bottle I had taken a sip from earlier toward me.

I could almost still faintly remember the taste, something resembling saline, coating my tongue. I didn't particularly enjoy it, but found it was just enough to satiate my thirst. Still, I would have preferred water.

I cringe away from the bottle, lowering my eyes so I wouldn't have to look at it, or him.

David thrusts it directly underneath my line of eyesight. "Here," he says, sounding annoyed. I caught the venom in his tone. "Knock yourself out..." He let the heavy bottle of liquid slide out of his hand and into my lap. The top of my legs tingled from the sudden burdening weight of it.

I exhaled sharply through my nose as I held it tightly by the neck of the bottle, holding it up into the air. The flickering flames from the can seemed to give it an ethereal, bright red glow. I uncapped it and lowered it down to my lips in time to see David watching me, his mouth pressed into a tight thin line.

Well, here goes nothing... I decided. I took a mouthful, a large swig, and forced myself to swallow it down, to ignore the revolting taste. Suddenly, a loud bustle erupted into the room. I had an audience of three boys and my little sister – who was quite herself again, and they were all clapping at me and calling my name, welcoming me into a firm, cold embrace.