Author's Note: Helloo(: Just a warning, I'm changing the story line a little bit. Instead of meeting Murlough in the city, the vampires find him elsewhere first and then follow him there. In addition, Debbie Hemlock won't come into play until a little later in the story. Thanks for reading and please review? :D
Michaela opened her eyes wearily. She lifted her head slowly as memories of the night she'd had hit her like a ton of bricks. She looked behind her to see if Steve was still there—but, as she'd assumed, he was not. What she hadn't expected was to see a folded-up piece of paper in his place. She forced herself into a sitting position and picked up the note, frowning as she read the front. To Michaela was scrawled on the front in Steve's crude handwriting. She almost burst into tears right then and there— he never called her Michaela, unless he was really pissed at her. It was his way of saying that he was detached; that he didn't want to deal with her. She opened it to find only one word:
Sorry.
She sighed and tossed the note back to where she'd found it. She didn't know whether to be happy that she had seen him or devastated that she finally knew that it was really and truly over between the two of them. Either way, she knew that she wouldn't get over him for a long, long time. She was just about to curl up in a ball and cry about it when she heard a knock at her door. She scowled and walked down the stairs to answer it—it was probably just her mom, returning like she occasionally did and having lost her key again. She opened it and frowned when she saw a man she had never met before. He was tall, with stringy black hair and a disgustingly marred face. His eyes were wide and full of hate, and his teeth all ended in sharp points. He was scary, to say the least. "Can I help you?" she asked hesitantly. She could tell just by looking at him that he wasn't one of her 'uncles'; her mother had better taste than this man.
He grinned an evil grin before planting a foot over the doorstep. "I do believe so."
Her heart thudded in her ears as she tried to slam the door shut, but he easily caught it in his hand and forced it open. "Good try— you are clever. Clever child. But not clever like Murlough. Because Murlough knows best."
Steve scowled as he watched the news from an empty house on the outskirts of a nearby town. He couldn't help but perk up a bit when the reporter told of five drunken men being found in a car that had driven off a cliff with all bodies having been drained of blood—so Murlough had come, drank his fill, and cleaned up the mess. He was always good like that. Steve sighed after the story on his and his mentor's crimes was over, because he wasn't really interested in anything else. He didn't care about news or politics or weather. All he cared about was his night with Michaela. He missed her already. He knew he shouldn't have bothered helping her, and he definitely shouldn't have kissed her. He sure as hell shouldn't have stayed the night. He knew he had been smart about leaving as early as he had, though; if he'd stayed to watch her wake up, he knew he wouldn't have ever left. He'd wanted to say so much more in his goodbye note, but he didn't know how to put it all into words. His mind went blank the moment there was a pen in his hand, and so he wrote down the one word that just kept repeating in his mind: .
Steve frowned despite himself—maybe he should go check up on her? He forced himself to disregard that thought immediately. She was fine. Michaela would be better off without him. It would just hurt them both even more if he came back again. After all, it was hard enough to leave the first (and second) times. How would he manage to do it a third time?
He put his fist through the wall next to him— he was being stupid, and he knew it. He just needed to forget about her, and he knew just the way to do it. He needed to drink. He would be fine after he got some fresh blood in his system. He knew that he needed to abandon the human part of him and embrace his new, immortal side. He needed to be who he knew his destiny would lead him to be; the leader his people had been looking for for years ever since they got wind of Mr. Tiny's prophecy.
He would need to abandon all emotional ties if he was to be the Vampaneze Lord.
As Darren followed Mr. Crepsley through the streets, they became growingly familiar. The scenery went from big-city factories to beautiful landscapes. He frowned at each step; he felt an exhilarating sense of déjà vu with each one he took. He felt like he had trekked this hike before, but he couldn't quite place when or why. It wasn't until they scaled the gates of a rather large cemetery and stepped inside when he felt another wave of the overwhelming feeling that he had been there before wash over him. This time, it was intensified almost tenfold. He recognized the area, but he didn't know how…
Despite his master's protests, Darren went ahead of him and walked his way forward, letting his feet take him wherever they happened to take him. He made turn after turn after turn as he wound his way around gravestones and tombs, ignoring the path that was laid out for walkers-by and just going with his gut. When he came to a stop, Mr. Crepsley grabbed his arm and violently pulled him back. "Darren. Come."
Darren ripped his arm out of Crepsley's grasp and responded with a husky, "Let go of me!" before turning to face whatever it was he had come to see. He knew that it would be right before him.
He gasped aloud when he saw his name staring back at him: Darren Shan. He was at his own tombstone! He looked at Mr. Crepsley and demanded shakily, "Why are we here." When he didn't respond, Darren boomed, "Tell me why!"
"We need to…" His voice faltered, which shocked Darren beyond belief. When did Crepsley ever show any sign of emotion? The idea that he was overwhelmed didn't exactly console Darren's fears. The fire-headed mentor paused before looking at his assistant and continuing, "We are here because we are following the trail of a psychopath, Darren. There is a mad vampaneze on the loose, and he has been terrorizing towns near and far for much too long. Normally I would not take an interest in the acts of their kind, but he has taken the life of one of my dear friends. I have been tracking him in secret ever since, and when he approached your hometown…"
"He's in my town?" Darren screeched. "Killing my people?"
"There have been five deaths so far," Mr. Crepsley said solemnly.
"But… what do you care?" Darren asked slowly, confusion and fear taking over his anger. "It's my home, not yours."
"Because, Darren. Like it or not, you are my assistant, companion, and what I consider to be a friend. You may not feel the same, but I have grown to like and enjoy your company. Besides, even if I did not care for you, throughout the duration of my stay I happen to have made a friend or two that I would enjoy keeping alive."
Realization dawned on the young boy and he said aloud, "Michaela." It was not a question, but a statement of fact.
"I had assumed you would feel the same way when it came to her safety, would you not?" He caught Darren's nod of approval and responded, "So be it."
"What do we have to do?" he asked bravely, all fear forgotten. He didn't care what it was. To help Michaela, he'd willingly jump into an active volcano. To him, it didn't matter what he had to do; he would do anything to keep her safe. For her, it was all worth it.
"Now," Mr. Crepsley said, "You sleep."
Darren stared at the man incredulously. Had he lost his mind? "Do you honestly expect me to sleep at a time like this?"
"Indeed. You will be of no service to me if you are exhausted come tomorrow morning."
"What about you?" he challenged. "What're you gonna be doing?"
"I shall be tracking the vampaneze, of course," Mr. Crepsley responded, wondering if his assistant had taken an especially hard blow to the head lately. He wasn't usually this clueless.
"Why can't I help?" Darren whined instantly. He didn't mean it to come out so childishly, but he didn't care much, either. It wasn't fair that Crepsley expected him to stay while he went after his friend!
"I shall be of no use during the day. We shall alternate shifts, with you searching during the light hours and me searching at night while it is dark."
"But—"
"I will wake you if I find anything. I expect the same from you. Are we understood?"
Darren let out a long, exasperated sigh. "Fine," he muttered, solely to please his master.
Crepsley gazed at his assistant warily. He could see the deceitful look in the child's eyes and knew that the moment he turned his back, the boy would be running off to do as he pleased. Crepsley had a feeling he knew what that was, so after careful consideration, he informed his assistant: "I shall visit the girl's residence first thing tonight, and shall go there as soon as we depart from the cemetery. You may accompany me for that. However, the very moment you have seen that she is safe, you are to make your way over to the large willow tree on the outskirts of the cemetery and retire for the night; do you understand?"
Darren nodded eagerly. He didn't care about some stupid vampaneze; he only cared that they didn't kill Michaela and Steve and his family and his friends and…
Huh, Darren decided after a moment. He frowned— actually, he did care that there was a mentally unbalanced serial killer loose in his town. He cared a lot. Suddenly, he didn't feel the urge to only check up on Michaela—he wanted to actually run around town like a lost idiot and find the asshole who dared to hurt his home. But his top priority was checking on Michaela. She wasn't the most likely target for the vampaneze or anything, but she was the most likely out of anybody he knew to have done something stupid. He had to make sure that she wasn't sick, drinking, smoking, or doing anything that could possibly do harm to her. He needed to see that she was still… living. Not alive—he had a feeling she wouldn't do anything that drastic—but living. He knew that she hadn't been before she met him, but he hoped that she had continued to do so even in his absence.
Darren climbed on Mr. Crepsley's back to speed the process of moving along. The older vampire was much stronger and faster than his assistant. Normally, Mr. Crepsley would have been able to deal with going at a half-vampire's pace— but Darren's habit of not drinking blood had him going almost as slow as a human. That was far beyond the old vampire's patience level, so he flitted with the child on his back and climbed up Michaela's wall before setting Darren down on her wrap-around balcony. Darren walked from their side of it to where he knew Michaela's window was and glanced in.
Darren sighed happily when he saw that she was asleep, just like she should be at the late hour. However, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of something—he wasn't sure quite what emotion it was, but he knew it was unpleasant— when he noticed that she was in Steve's arms. It was the first time he'd ever seen them actually acting like the happy couple they'd previously been since his and Steve's night at the Cirque. He knew he should be happy that they were together again, but he couldn't help but kind of… sick, he guessed he could call it, at the idea. He banished that feeling from his mind by reminding himself that as long as she was with Steve, she would be safe. There was no chance in hell that Steve would let her get hurt. Still, there was a sinking feeling in his stomach as he walked back to Crepsley and grumbled, "She has company."
"She—" Mr. Crepsley was gone and back within ten seconds, his concern for her safety replaced with a bemused disgust. "Ah. That kind of company… I would have thought that a girl as bright as her would have a taste far too refined for her to be taken with Mr. Leonard."
Darren studied the expression on his mentor's face before evaluating, "So… basically, you're jealous."
"Jealous of a teenager and his sad excuse of an attempt at romance? Please," Mr. Crepsley scoffed.
Darren's sides shook as the ice inside of his chest melted away and he let out a laugh at the mercy of Mr. Crepsley. "I cannot believe that you have the hots for Mikey!"
"She is but a child," he snapped. "She is a kind young woman, and I am very much fond of her. That much is true. However, I do not in any way wish to court a mere child."
"You're in love with a seventeen-year-old girl that you've met only once in your life, despite being… old," Darren clarified. "How old are you, anyway? Two hundred? Three hundred?" he asked with genuine curiosity.
Much to Darren's amusement, Crepsley's face reddened to be almost the same shade as his hair as he grumbled an angry, "I will allow you to believe whatever you may wish, despite how incorrect your childish assumptions may be. Now, as much as I would enjoy to continue bickering with you on whether or not you think I have feelings for one of your childhood friends, it is time for you to uphold your side of the bargain and leave me be."
A grin spread across Darren's face as he responded, "You're just mad 'cause you know you like her."
Crepsley's face darkened as he threatened, "Child, if you do not cease your taunting, I shall leave you up here with no means of reaching the ground but to jump. And I assure you that I will not be waiting with open arms."
"No need to get so snippy, Cupid!" Darren exclaimed sarcastically as he mounted the man's back. A sudden wave of exhaustion rolled over him. He couldn't wait to be able to sleep and just get this day over with.
Michaela shook with fear while Murlough walked around her constricted body condescendingly. She had a feeling that whatever he had in store for her would be a hell of a lot worse than what Johnny and his friend would have been capable of. "Young blood. Fresh blood," he purred after stabbing her shoulder quickly with his nail and licking it clean. He circled around this sad excuse of a teenage girl and couldn't help but wonder why Steve had left her alive. Murlough knew that Steve would not be too fond of the decision, but he wouldn't make the same mistake. "Murlough is very clever. He is the smartest man in history, he is—written history or otherwise. A genius, Murlough is! Number one! Never a bad idea from this clever head. And clever Murlough thinks—"
The doorbell rang, cutting off Murlough's long rant in a series of speeches about how intellectual he thought he was. He let out a growl and considered his options before cutting through the ropes binding Michaela to her chair. "Murlough's plan must wait. His genius plan! I can see you waiting to hear it. Very anxious to hear it, are you? Yes! But you shall go. Open the door, you will!"
She wobbled to the door on tired, uncirculated legs and pulled it open, managing a weak "Can I help you?" when she saw it was two cops.
The taller of the two flashed his badge. "Yes, I'm Officer Harkins… are you Michaela Freiland?"
"Yeah," she managed to murmur uncertainly. She lifted her head to meet his gaze and said in a louder voice, "What's… what is it?"
"We found five bodies inside of a truck at the bottom of a cliff… they appear to have driven off in a drunken stupor. Do you happen to know anything about that?"
Michaela frowned, unsure of how this information pertained to her. "Why would I have any idea what you're talking about?"
"Well, it was five men, ranging from in their twenties to thirties… heavily intoxicated. All but one was blonde." When Harkins caught the look of confusion on Michaela's face, he sighed. "Listen, Ms. Freiland. We found samples of your DNA all over one of the men— Jonathan Ambarti?"
The color immediately drained from Michaela's face as she gasped aloud. Her hand flew to her mouth and she managed to leak out a weak, "Johnny."
"You knew him?" the officer asked, even though he already had proof of that. "How?"
Trembling, she forced out a stuttered, "No. I was by the dirt road near the cemetery… leaning against that big weeping willow tree… and he and his friends came along… and he… they tried to…" Her eyes met the officer's and she managed a weak, "Well… y'know."
"It would be much easier if you just said it. We cannot just infer your meaning—"
"Rape," Michaela said loudly. Her voice lowered as she repeated quietly, "They tried to rape me."
The shorter cop who had been silent until that moment asked, "May we come in?"
"I don't think—" she began to stammer.
"What's the problem, miss?" Officer Harkins inquired as he stepped over the threshold. His partner quickly followed him into the house.
Both bodies hit the floor before the door had even shut behind them.
A/N: So… thoughts? They'd be appreciated. This is the first thing that I've posted that I haven't had it all completely written out and finished before putting it up, so I'm kind of worried about how this is going to turn out. I would really like (and desperately need) feedback! Thank you so much(: