They had one night left to enjoy their temporary home before striking up a bonfire to bid it goodbye. Paul bobbed at the front counter, filling his arms with bottles of beer packed into a concession refrigerator. He didn't so much as flinch when he dropped a couple here and there to send them shattering at his feet.
The girl who worked the place was busy with Dwayne helping him pile pizzas and junk food on various dining tables that lined the bowling alley. They weren't normally such gracious hosts, but tonight was a party. Why not celebrate with a little something different?
He slammed the bottles on the counter, then caught a small breeze to carry him flying over to the opposite side rather than simply jumping. He ignored the warning glance from Dwayne, who'd been putting so much control on the girl's mind she was likely to break if he wiped any more of her memories of Paul's shenanigans. He couldn't help himself. Not even on a normal night.
"Paul," David said his name, sidling up behind him to clap a hand on his shoulder. No gloves.
Paul smiled obnoxiously, not at all innocent, "what?"
"Why don't you go check on the radio? Finished re-wiring it yet?"
Rolling his eyes, Paul once more flew over the counter and stalked into the back room. The overhead speakers had been on the fritz for what was likely years, given how the rest of the place was run. So he'd been trying to figure out some way to rig it to work. Hard to do if the speakers themselves were blown, but he knew David was just giving him busy work so he didn't drink all the beer before their guests showed up.
He wrinkled his nose as he slipped into the manager's office and snatched up a can of air freshener to spray away the scent of old death.
"You need a bath, bud," he snarked at the dead man propped up in his desk chair. No point in taking the leftovers out before the fire did the hard work for them.
Paul clicked his tongue against sharpened fangs to a beat in his head, finding the control box where the system was nestled. Sparks were flying from it now. His mind wandered back to Santa Carla. How long had it been since they'd left? Too many years to count. Planning trips could be dangerous, given how empty the roads could be. Finding shelter was quite literally life or death.
It had only been a few days, but he sort of missed their hotel. Maybe he was a bit of a homebody.
"Fuck!" He hissed, drawing a singed finger to his mouth. Right. No fixing this shit.
A gentle knock on the doorframe and Marko was strolling inside, "hey, bud. Whaddya think?"
Paul turned around and leaned against the wall to get a look at whatever his pack member was so proud of. He had a whole shopping bag in tow.
"Aw, sweety, did you get me something pretty? The one in the window?" Paul cooed, rushing forward to pluck at the shopping bag. Marko pulled it back and smacked his hand.
"Nah, you're too fat for it, babe," Marko replied as he fished into his treasure trove of goodies. A new pair of black leather riding gloves, a pair of black riding boots with heavy buckles over the ankle portion, and a nice leather jacket which appeared to be the pride of Marko's finds. He admired his own good taste, holding it up for Paul to get a good look at it.
"I think I got all the sizes right. The gloves are for Davey since he lost the last pair."
Paul rolled his eyes. "Lost?" They all knew their leader had a flair for the dramatic. He'd left them behind last night as a souvenir.
"Also got some guests coming," Marko added, "so I guess you can have some of them."
Anticipation danced beneath Paul's skin as he shifted to hide the ravenous hunger, fangs and bones shifting until he resembled something a little more human. Hopefully not for long.
Slinging an arm over Marko's shoulder, Paul led him from the office and closed the door behind them.
"So, you think we'll stay in Phoenix?" He asked, not really asking. The problem with cities like this was the attention more than one night out might draw. Hunters. Bible thumpers trying to prove something to themselves. What was worse were the cultist junkies. Sure, it could be fun to play god for an hour or two, but the game got stale when they started begging to prove their worthiness.
Worse than staying in Phoenix, a small town without tourists meant a very limited food supply. Their hometown really did have it all, he supposed.
"We could go to Vegas," Marko said, not quite joking. He had a thing for gambling and glitter. The only saving grace of their chosen dive bar they couldn't bring themselves to hunt at. The cheap slot machine and stripper glitter were better protection than holy water.
"These are towels," Max explained, patting two pristine white bath towels slung over his arm. "In the bathroom, you will find soap. Both kinds: bar and liquid. You'll also find shampoo, conditioner, and various other tools through which you will have the means to wash yourselves.
If Alan could stand on his own two feet without bracing himself against his easily weakened brother, he might attempt to rip out the jerk's throat. How they'd managed to follow him out of the 'sunroom' and into his house, he didn't know.
"As for," Max waved a hand at them with an air of distaste, "those burnt rags you're both wearing - - we'll see to them afterwards. For now there are a few boxes worth in the guest room closet to pick from. I usually throw out the stained items, so I'm sure you'll find something to your liking. Afterwards we'll get to know each other.
He pointed to a door to his right, "the guest room. Beyond that, the bathroom. I trust you can take it from here."
Once they were blissfully free from him, Alan summoned his strength from deep within his core to help his brother into the room, closing the door behind them. It was exactly the sort of room he'd picture in this guy's house. Bland and white, with the occasional pop of a slightly-less bland still life of lifeless flowers.
Alan took a deep breath, focusing on a door that in all likelihood led to the bathroom Max was talking about. He pulled his brother along, one shaky step at a time. His head pounded, his skin throbbed, and his teeth ached with the need to kill again.
"Ed," he said, "Edgar, we can get through this. Me and you. Just keep moving with me, ok?" His voice sounded wrong to him. Raspy. Deep. He almost didn't recognize it. Alan's tongue ran along his teeth and he realized his face had at some point shifted after they'd woken up. Or maybe it had been like that all night. It felt so natural now.
It was Edgar who gripped and turned the door handle to the bathroom beyond. Inside was a double sink, but no mirrors. A large bathtub, and a separate enclosed shower with glass doors. Good, they wouldn't have to bathe together like toddlers. Alan's skin itched with the flakes of burnt flesh peeling away from freshly-healed patches.
Alan helped his brother towards the tub, kneeling as best he could so Edgar could grip the edge himself.
"Can you stand? Long enough to shower?" He asked, knowing the answer already.
"Gonna kill him," Edgar hissed, spitting through gritted teeth and fangs.
"Right, so that's a no?" Alan replied, trying to play it off like a joke. Hard to laugh, remembering that only a few days ago they used to be the good guys. Now they were only that by definition of being at least somewhat less shitty than their maker. All for what? So they could look cool to the guys who were always riding their bikes on the boardwalk and picking up chicks? Hang out with them and see what getting drunk was like for just one night? Those were the last people in the world Edgar and Alan thought would be vampires.
Alan leaned over to turn on the faucets in the tub, gesturing to Edgar, "you get in first. Looks like there's some soap and stuff in the caddy on the wall," he gestured to a small mounted rack just above the tub. Weird place for it. Alan narrowed his eyebrows, "don't touch the one that says lye, alright?"
"I'm not stupid," Edgar grouched, tugging at the burnt remainders of his shirt to pull them away from his body. For just an instant, his brother reminded him of a goblin, his hair poking out in every direction and his fangs clicking as he whined in discomfort.
Alan bit back a laugh, turning away. It wasn't that funny.
"If we do anything, we gotta work around some stuff now," Alan pointed out. "Holy water, crosses, that shit…"
"We'll just get stakes. A lot of them!" Edgar shouted with new determination. He paused briefly to begin to work on the remains of his pants, "but we gotta eat first."
On that point they both agreed.
He waited in the parking lot, hands blatantly naked, cigarette rolling back and forth between his thumb and index finger. People were showing up. He nodded them to the door, all the while waiting for one particular person who seemed to be fashionably late to a fault. About a year, by David's estimate. It felt like the closer they got to their final goal, the longer everything seemed to take.
Pressing tentatively at the pack bond, he fastened himself to Michael's. Something had upset him, it would seem, so he was going for a ride before joining them. It was hard to bite back his sour scowl. He urged, perhaps a little too sharply, for the human to set aside the family drama. Bury it even. Forget about it and just come to them. They were waiting. It wasn't right to make them wait.
David didn't want to ruin it this time, but he was getting irritated. Irritated and starving. The taste he'd had last night wasn't nearly enough. He wanted - - needed so much more.
He smoked his cigarette down to the filter and was halfway through another by the time Michael finally showed up. He pulled quickly into the parking lot, nearly tripping over his own feet in his attempt to climb off of his bike. He looked incredibly pale.
Okay, perhaps David had taken just a little too much blood the night before, but all the more reason Michael should have gotten here earlier.
"Devil catch up to you?" David asked, looking around. His smile belied his anxious need to get on with everything. Finish it.
The brunette drew closer to him, "something like that. Nearly crashed my bike trying to dodge an accident. Had to stick around and tell the cops what I saw."
David raised an eyebrow, "and you didn't cause it?" He teased, walking closer to Michael. His fingers itched to touch him, but he managed to restrain himself just enough to pluck at an imaginary bit of lint on Michael's shoulder.
"We're having a party tonight. Wanna come inside?" He suggested, flicking his cigarette to the ground. People had stopped arriving by now, but there had to be at least a dozen or so. Marko did a good job with dinner tonight. Always did.
Michael nodded, running a hand through his curls, "yeah. Sounds great." He wore a tired, relaxed smile. If David had a conscience, he'd feel a little guilty for the headache he'd pressed into Michael's mind to force him to hurry up and come to them.
Wrapping an arm around Michael's shoulder, he led him towards the entrance, "allow me," he said as he opened the door.
"My hero," Michael replied dryly, a deep chuckle emanating from his chest. He liked this more relaxed side of the half-vampire, but David couldn't deny he very much enjoyed Michael's temper that he kept simmering beneath the surface just a little bit more. He wanted to grip at that part, claw it out of Michael's chest and use it to help mold him into the killer he really was.
The bowling alley was alight with music. Paul hadn't figured out the radio system, but he'd put his boombox on the front counter and was pushing the thing to its very limits. Dwayne and his new girlfriend were nowhere to be seen, but a simple brush at their link revealed that the other vampire simply wasn't interested in waiting around to eat. They were in the manager's office.
David snatched a pair of beer bottles from the front counter and offered one to Michael, smacking the lid of his own against the edge of the formica surface to knock the lid off. Foam spilled on the ground, but he simply shook off the excess from his hand and grinned as Michael simply twisted his own lid without the fanfare.
It was a shame to pull away to give the brunette a little space to move. Noticing Michael had found and was wearing the glove he'd left behind brought a smile to David's face as he took a deep swig of his beer. It didn't do much for him. Better in the blood. The ritual was fun, nonetheless.
The party was a mixture of mostly college kids, judging by the looks of them. Just old enough to drink, and young enough not to know how. Marko and Paul giddily wove around a pair of twins, their thoughts written so clearly on their faces one might as well have scrawled it in permanent marker.
Dwayne reappeared from behind the counter, winking at David, "glad the guest of honor showed up. We about ready?"
David shook his head, "not yet. Get the door."
Wordlessly, Dwayne hopped over the counter, fully aware it was stupid to pull a move like Paul before they really got the party started. He strolled casually towards the door, while David focused on getting Michael's attention to distract him.
"So," David began, nodding towards the humans snacking and dancing and in some cases fondling each other behind a dining table or ball rack.
"What, like the chips?" Michael asked. "Nah, but there's a girl over there who looks kinda fun to talk to." He pointed with the hand holding his beer bottle at a willowy brunette in a Boho skirt and Lettermans jacket. David snorted. Figures his type would still be the same.
They walked together. David pretended it was an aimless sort of stroll to mingle with a new face here and there, but he wanted to make sure when it all began that his new companion was in the thick of it. Close enough to feel and taste the sound of blood pumping fresh in human veins.
"I asked you something last night, do you remember?" David whispered, closing in on Michael just enough for him to feel breath on his shoulder. The brunette gave him a funny look, shaking his head.
"You asked me a lot of questions, man, wanna be specific?" He didn't pull away, in fact his pulse quickened just a little not that they were even closer.
"Are you scared, Michael?" David asked. Dwayne had locked the door and put a few chairs up against it now. Just enough of an obstacle in case their small party broke up, though the chase would be fun if one or two of them managed to make it out.
The halfling turned to look at David, sizing him up. "Am I scared? Of a bowling alley?"
Paul, Dwayne, Marko's, and David's laughter echoed, mingling with the music and chatter of the party guests. The other three closed in, circling around the humans who still remained blissfully unaware of their fate.