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The echoes of the concussive blast which had accompanied Max’s spectacular demise were still ricocheting through the living room when Michael dared to raise his head. Momentarily bewildered by the shockwaves, a frown of confusion creased his brow as he met Star’s disconcertingly close gaze, his arms still wrapped protectively around her from when he’d pulled her down right before the climactic detonation that had rocked the house. He had a millisecond to wonder at the excitement that twinkled within her wide, dark eyes before he heard her joyful exclamation that their nightmare was finally over. It was only then that the pieces fell into place and he realized something was very, very wrong.
The unwelcome truth was that although he’d been shocked back into human form by the force of the explosion and fireball that had engulfed the head vampire, nothing else had changed for Michael. The bloodlust which had begun to overtake him a week earlier continued to surge unchecked through his veins with every beat of his thundering heart, and the murderous rage he’d unleashed when he’d battled David still simmered just below the surface.
David... The teen’s gaze unconsciously sought the other boy, who still lay unmoving on his grandfather’s cluttered desk where Michael had thrown him, gore-splattered antelope horns sprouting obscenely from his chest.
‘What the fuck did you do to me?’ He accused the blond silently, but there was no answer.
Hiding his growing panic behind a brittle smile, Michael slowly climbed to his feet. In a daze, he allowed himself to be drawn into hugs from his mother, Star - and even Sam; although it was all he could do to resist the dark hunger that rose within him as they insisted on pressing his cheek against their fragrant, unguarded necks again and again. It was even worse when his brother jumped on this back for a celebratory piggyback ride as Michael followed his mother, and the trio trailed after Grandpa into the ruined kitchen. As the door swung shut behind him, the overpowering aroma of Paul’s blood that painted every surface hit him like a ton of bricks and nearly stripped him of what little control he had left.
He tried breathing through his mouth, instead, as his grandfather revealed that he’d known Santa Carla had been infested with the bloodsucking undead all along; but that only turned the coppery scent into a tantalizing taste as it wafted across his tongue. So when his mother’s expression darkened with outrage at Grandpa’s confession and she ordered Michael and Sam to go start cleaning up so she could have ‘a word’ with her father in private, Michael immediately dropped his brother and bolted out of the room before he lost all semblance of humanity and started ripping throats out with his teeth.
“I’ll take care of David,” he announced to the room at-large as he strode across the decimated den, his shoulders hunched and his face turned away from the others in case the monstrous need he was desperately trying to keep under wraps had broken free and changed his features.
“Hey, wait up, Michael,” came Sam’s eager voice from somewhere behind him. “I’ll give you a hand.”
Michael paused by the entrance to the work room. “Leave me alone, Sammy,” he shot over his shoulder without lifting his head, his hand gripping the edge of the sliding door so hard the wood creaked. “This is something I need to do by myself.”
He heard Sam’s sharp intake of breath and prepared himself for an argument, although he wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to maintain the upper hand with the furious need to feed that was currently burning its way through his body like wildfire. The last thing he expected was for his grandfather to chime in. “Sam…. Why don’t you head upstairs with the Frog boys and work on the bathroom.”
“Sure, Grandpa,” Sam called back toward the kitchen, even though Michael could feel his brother’s eyes drilling holes into his cheek, silently begging him to look at him – to glance up even for a second and meet his gaze. After a moment he heard the younger teen heave a defeated sigh. “Whatever, dude,” Sam murmured as he lowered his voice, his words now for Michael’s ears alone. “I don’t know why you always need to be such an asshole; I was just excited that you were back. Way to kill the mood, bro.”
At any other time, the hurt and disappointment in his brother’s tone normally would have snapped Michael out of his funk long enough to at least apologize. But at the moment he could barely hear Sam’s words over the sound of the boy’s heartbeat, which demanded his attention with a hypnotic rhythm that grew stronger and more insistent the closer he came. Fortunately for both of them, just as Michael felt the outer limits of his endurance begin to crumble, his brother turned away and flounced up the stairs in a huff, taking his telltale heart and the Frog Brothers with him.
It was Michael’s turn to sigh – this time with relief, as he stepped inside his grandfather’s taxidermy studio and pulled the doors shut behind him.
He regretted his decision an intake of breath later when the smell of David’s blood hit the back of his throat, rich and dark and intoxicating. But instead of driving him into a frenzy as his family’s – and even Paul’s – had threatened to do, the scent had the opposite effect, calming and welcoming him like he’d just come home after a long, arduous journey. He inhaled deeply and let the soothing sensation wash over him; and for a fleeting second it was almost as if David was standing beside him, his arm stretched reassuringly across Michael’s back and his hand resting softly, possessively, on Michael’s shoulder as it had so many times in the past week. Contact that, at the time, he’d told himself was creepy and vaguely threatening, but now he found himself missing.
‘No!’ Shaking his head as if to clear it, Michael pretended he hadn’t been mentally relaxing into that phantom touch and stalked toward the desk, feeling strangely drawn to the body lying on top of it. The dim fluorescent bulbs cast a cold, sickly glow on the vampire’s corpse, but all Michael could see were the sharp planes of David’s handsome face highlighted in the low light, and the length of his dark lashes which lay like soot against his pale skin. Without conscious thought, he leaned closer, his hand outstretched and trembling as it hovered inches from the other’s smooth cheek, aching to run his fingertips over the exquisite bone structure he’d wanted to touch from the moment he’d laid eyes on him.
But no, this wasn’t getting the job done. Swallowing hard, Michael snatched his hand back and straightened. His expression, which had been so soft and full of a hunger that had nothing to do with blood a heartbeat before, now hardened as he stared down at the blond.
“Goddamnit, David, what did you do to me?” he breathed, his voice harsh and choked as he wrapped the last tattered remnants of his frayed self-control around another unacceptable desire, one that he’d been battling for far longer than his recent bloodlust. He glared a moment longer, his eyes traveling over the vampire's features as if trying to memorize them, before he reluctantly tore his gaze away and scanned the study for something to wrap David's body in.
Other than the piles of animal skulls that had been collected over the years, and the taxidermy tools and chemicals his grandfather hoarded like gold, the corner room was a sort of catch-all for anything that didn’t have a home elsewhere in the house. Including, he realized, the tarps they’d lashed over their meagre belongings on the trip from Phoenix to Santa Carla. It took a little searching through the accumulated crap, but he finally located them under a box that contained a hodgepodge of loose teeth and claws, and glass eyes of various colors and sizes that rolled around like marbles in the bottom when he lifted it. He pulled the topmost piece of haphazardly folded canvas off the stack and shook it out, sending billows of dust into the air. Eyes slitted against the flying grit, he fanned the worst of it away with his hand then knelt and spread the cloth out on the floor, being careful to avoid the puddle of blood that had pooled under the corner of the desk, shining and black in the dim light.
Once he had it laid out to his satisfaction, he climbed to his feet and, steeling himself, turned and approached David again.
After everything the Lost Boys had put him and his family through, Michael knew that he should have been feeling triumphant to see his foe so thoroughly defeated, but the unexpected swell of grief, anger, and regret that suddenly threatened to close his throat told a very different story. Unable to look away, a single tear leaked out of the corner of his eye and ran down his cheek as he stood and stared at the injuries he’d inflicted so callously in a fit of rage that had matched the vampire’s. Although if asked, even Michael wouldn’t have been able to say whether he was mourning his lost innocence or David’s passing.
Feeling unequal to the task of sorting out his conflicting emotions, his fingers curled into fists that shook at his sides as he tamped down the maelstrom of feelings as best he could, while a single, burning question - the same one he'd been asking himself since Max's death, pressed urgently against the back of his tightly clenched teeth.
“Why haven’t I changed back?” he whispered to the corpse when he trusted his voice not to crack. “I killed you to keep myself from turning into a monster, but it's happening anyway. And now you’re not here to tell me why, or what I’m supposed to do next.”
A stab of impotent anger finally tipped the scales and Michael could feel the otherness inside him howling for release in the guttural growl he couldn't quite suppress. “I can’t just… I can’t go back out there and pretend nothing’s wrong indefinitely,” he hissed in agitation, his eyes flashing yellow as he flung his arm out and gestured toward the living room. “I’m not human anymore and they’re gonna figure that out pretty fast. And then what? I wake up someday to Sammy and the Frog Brothers pounding a stake through my heart?”
Swallowing against the tightness that constricted his airway, he stepped up to the desk and peered down at David’s clean-shaven, angelic features, searching desperately for answers that would now never be revealed. Realizing the futility of his outburst, Michael impatiently swiped a sleeve across his tear-stained face. Then he closed the distance between them and gingerly slipped his hands inside the other boy’s open coat and under his armpits, being careful to keep his face away from the gore-spattered antlers. The last thing he needed was to lose an eye on top of everything else.
With a concerted tensing of muscles and a grunt of effort, Michael gathered his preternatural strength and lifted David clear of the bloody horns in a single fluid motion. Once the tips had retreated through the pale, ruined flesh with a soft sucking sound and the antelope skull clattered back onto the desk, Michael held the vampire chest-to-chest and carried him to the tarp with the weight David’s head resting bonelessly on his shoulder. Although he attempted to maintain a modicum of clinical detachment, he felt a faint undercurrent of excitement run through him at the chance to finally embrace the beautiful boy who’d broken down his barriers and become the center of Michael’s universe in such a ridiculously short period of time. It would have been laughable if it wasn’t so tragic.
Doing his best to ignore the butterflies beating themselves to death in his stomach, he knelt and gently lowered David down on the tarpaulin. The leader of the Lost Boys looked so peaceful in his repose, his face serene and his limbs loose and relaxed like a puppet whose strings had been cut; and it was all Michael could do to keep himself from gathering him into his arms again and cradling his head tenderly against the hollow of his throat. Quashing the urge, he instead settled for straightening out David’s torn, bloody t-shirt and arranging his long coat in careful folds before laying the vampire’s arms across his chest.
When he was done, he sat back on his haunches and surveyed his handiwork with a weary sigh. He wondered if, when his time came, Sammy would put the same time and attention into preparing him for the grave. Unfortunately, it only took a moment of allowing the muted sounds of activity coming from the rest of the house to intrude on his consciousness for his enhanced hearing to catch his brother and the Frogs gloating over their killing of Paul and Marco and Dwayne, and discussing their future vampire-hunting careers while they cleaned the bathroom.
The flash of anger that shot through Michael aimed at Sam and his friends took him by surprise, an instant before his brain caught up with his feelings and he found to his dismay that in that moment, instead of condemning the Lost Boys, he'd unconsciously counted himself among their ranks. His furrowed brow smoothed as comprehension dawned, and shock replaced fury when he realized that by tapping into the darkness within to save his mother and brother and Star, he'd chosen to cross a line in the sand that all of David's coercion hadn't been able to manage. In the span of a single evening, he'd gone from brother, son, and friend - to adversary; and now he stood on the far side of a yawning chasm which had opened up between himself and his family despite his best efforts to avoid it.
He was no longer welcome here.
The realization hit him like a punch in the gut. Gasping with the almost physical pain of it, he blinked back the tears that pricked the back of his eyelids as he reached for the edges of the tarp and folded them over David’s body. “It’s not a coffin, but it’ll have to do,” he murmured as he climbed to his feet and glanced down at his fallen brother wrapped from head-to-toe in dusty white canvas. “At least you’ll get a decent burial.”
And with that promise, Michael crept to the door and slid it open a crack to assess the lay of the land. When he saw that the living room was deserted, he widened the gap and darted out so he could grab his leather jacket off the back of the sofa where he’d left it, and where it had miraculously stayed through the entire battle and subsequent demolition of the house. Slipping it on, he shoved his hands in the side pockets to settle it on his shoulders, his fingers automatically curling around his wallet and the keys to his bike.
Satisfied that nothing had been misplaced, he’d just pulled his hands out again and started heading toward the study when he heard the kitchen door swinging open behind him.
“Michael, where are you going?” came his mother’s tentative voice.
“I’m going to bury David out back, in the field,” he replied, bracing himself for the unexpected interaction. He quickly schooled his features into as pleasant an expression as possible as he turned back to face her, even though he was sure he probably still looked pretty rough around the edges if the widening of her eyes was anything to go by.
Lucy covered her reaction quickly with a maternal frown, although she kept glancing at him, then away, her gaze sliding off Michael’s face to land on his shoulder like it was difficult to look directly at him for too long. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to go out there all by yourself right now,” she asserted, her voice taking on the sharp tones of command as she resumed her role of protecting mother without missing a beat. “It’s the middle of the night. Why don’t you wait until tomorrow morning and I’ll ask Sam to help.”
Nonplussed, Michael stood and gaped at her as he mentally scrambled for some sort of excuse, when Grandpa wandered out of the kitchen with one of his ubiquitous bottles of root beer clutched in his fist. Coming to a halt by Lucy, the old man placed his other hand on his daughter’s shoulder and gave it an affectionate squeeze, although the look he directed at Michael was shrewd and wary. Suddenly every muscle in Michael’s body tensed as a jolt of fear and adrenaline shot through him, and his heart began pounding a rapid tattoo against his ribs. Grandpa knew.
“Let him go, Lucy,” his grandfather counseled quietly, his gruff reassurance belaying his flinty eyes. “He’s not a boy anymore. He’s made up his mind; this is something he has to do – on his own.”
Lucy’s eyebrows shot up questioningly as she gave her father a sidelong glance, her expression suddenly uncertain. “But, Dad… it’s late. We’ve all been through so mu- “
“It’s fine,” Grandpa interjected softly as he wrapped his fingers around her upper arm and gave it a gentle tug. “You go on, Michael,” he said over his shoulder as he herded a perplexed Lucy back toward the kitchen, his guarded gaze never wavering from Michael’s as they retreated. “We have dishes to do.”
“Okay,” Lucy capitulated as she allowed herself to be led away, although she sounded like she still had reservations. “I guess you’re right; I can’t keep him a baby forever.” She turned and offered a fragile smile as she waved at Michael from the doorway. “Be careful, honey.”
A corner of Michael’s mouth quirked up into a melancholy half-smile, and he lifted his hand in response just as the door swung shut, cutting her off from view. In the silence that followed, he found himself wishing for one of those hugs he’d been so afraid to indulge in earlier, but he doubted his grandfather would ever let him near his mother again.
“I will, Mom,” he whispered to the empty room. Then he made his way back to the study, numb with grief.
David was where he’d left him, cocooned in the tarpaulin like some rare, dangerous insect waiting to emerge from its chrysalis.
“If only,” Michael muttered to himself, as a surge of hopeless yearning swamped his chest and made his limbs ache with the need for something – anything - to cling to so he wasn’t alone in this nightmare. But before his sadness could take hold and drag him under, he viciously grabbed it by the throat and shoved it as far down as he could. When he finally had it subdued enough to function, he turned his attention to the task of moving the body, grateful for the distraction.
He had a moment of concern when he remembered how heavy Star had seemed when he’d rescued her from the Lost Boys’ lair that afternoon. Then he recalled how easily he’d lifted David off the horns, and realized that the difference between the two was literally night and day. He’d moved Star with the sun mercilessly beating down on him, blinding him with its light and draining him of energy with its deadly radiation; and he’d moved David after dark, the time when a vampire’s power was at its greatest.
Bolstered by the revelation, he crouched next to the tightly wrapped corpse with a determined set to his jaw and slid his arms under the vampire, one behind his knees and the other around his shoulders. Then with a deep breath, he slowly rose to his feet, bringing David with him in a modified powerlift. He paused for a moment, marveling at how light the other teen was, before hugging David to him and carrying him out of the studio.
With one last glance in the direction of the kitchen, Michael crossed the living room to the gaping hole left by Grandpa’s truck. He carefully picked his way across shards of glass, splintered timbers, and chunks of plaster until he reached the opening, then stepped out into the night. As he crossed the porch, Michael could feel how cold the ocean breeze was as it blew across the rolling hills, but other than registering the drop in temperature, he noticed that it wasn’t really affecting him. Thankful for small favors, he hoisted David’s body a bit so he could settle it more comfortable against his chest, then he made his way around to the back of the house and struck out across the field behind it.
It didn’t take him long to reach his destination: a spot on the hillside that overlooked the house and provided a panoramic view of the valley. It was a place he’d often retreated to in the past week as he’d tried to make sense of the strange, terrifying changes the vampiric blood he’d unknowingly ingested were wreaking on his body and mind. For a moment, he gazed out over the darkened landscape and remembered it in daylight before he laid David down gently. Then he sat down beside him with a despondent sigh and leaned back on his elbows in the tall grass.
Only the final task of burying the dead vampire remained. But then what? Michael glanced back toward the house. From his spot on the hill, he could see his mother and grandfather washing dishes side-by-side in the kitchen; his brother horsing around with the Frog Brothers as they cleaned the bathroom; and Star ineffectually pushing a broom around in Sam’s room while Laddie jumped on the bed. It was a homey, domestic scene that he no longer had a place in. Not as he was now, anyway.
He glanced away from the rectangles of light that were almost too bright to look at and up into the cool comfort of the starlit sky. This was where he belonged: lost in the shadows.
He had no idea why, but he was like David and the rest of the gang now – or would be soon enough, and although the warmth and light below drew him like a moth to a flame, he knew he couldn’t enter his grandfather’s house again. At this point, it was inevitable that he would eventually give in to the hunger that even now clawed at his innards like a ravening beast; and the last thing he wanted was to hurt the people he loved, especially after he’d given up everything to save them. As much as it pained him to admit it, he had nothing to offer his family and friends now but the cold embrace of death.
Bowing his head, his gaze was inexorably drawn to the wrapped body which lay like a beacon, blazing white against the night-darkened ground, and he felt another sharp pull toward it – as strong and irresistible as when David had called to him mind-to-mind and implored him to join them. Without conscious thought, he sat up and began tugging at the rough fabric, only coming back to himself again when he’d loosened the canvas and peeled it back to expose the vampire to the cool night air.
To human eyes, the moonlight that bathed the hillside in a faint purplish glow would have leached all color from the boy beneath him and reduced him to shades of white and grey and black. But with Michael’s superior night vision, he had no problem seeing how beautiful David was regardless of the lighting. With no one else around to see and judge, he let down his guard and openly admired the pale blond of the vampire’s hair which matched the sun-bleached grass, and the clouded greenish-blue of David’s irises, the bottom of which peeked out from under his half-closed lids, that reminded Michael of the ocean. His gaze traveled lower, to the reddish stubble glittering like spun gold on David’s jaw and upper lip, that he’d always imagined would feel amazing chafing against his face as they kissed, leaving whisker burns on his lips and -
His mind screeched to a disoriented halt when as he realized that David’s scruffy beard, which had magically disappeared when his spirit had departed in a wash of shimmering light, had just as magically reappeared. A confused frown momentarily puckered Michael's forehead as he leaned over the other boy to get a better look, and before conscious thought caught up to impulse, had cupped his cheek in awestruck wonder, resigning himself to yet another vampiric mystery that he was probably never going to figure out. The velvety bristles scratched softly against his palm, ticklish and tantalizing, just as he’d dreamed they would as he rubbed his thumb over David’s cheekbone like he’d wanted to do so badly earlier.
With the tender, forbidden touch, the last of Michael’s walls came down and the feelings he’d been denying for so long suddenly overwhelmed him. “I wish you weren’t dead,” he whispered, his voice hushed and passionate as he searched the other boy’s placid features. “For a lot of reasons; not just because I need answers. I mean, I do need answers. I need to know why I’m still a half-vampire, and whose blood I drank; but I also just need… you.”
He could feel his face heating, but he forged ahead, regardless. “I know I resisted you with everything I had, but underneath it all… I wanted you. God, I wanted you. From the very beginning, when I followed Star to where you were waiting; suddenly you were all I could see and it scared the hell out of me. Honestly, it’s not the first time I’ve had a crush on a guy; but it was the first time I knew it was serious, and that I was in deep shit. So I pretended it wasn't happening and ran straight into Star’s arms; and when I couldn’t deny it anymore, I tried to destroy it. That’s what I did tonight when we fought, and I threw you across the room with so much anger and rejection. It was really all directed at myself for these… feelings that I can’t stop and I can’t get rid of no matter how hard I try."
He signed softly then - a quiet, wistful sound. “And all I’ve learned is that is that I wish I hadn’t tried so hard, so maybe you’d still be here with me and I wouldn’t be alone in this.”
Michael’s voice trailed off, and it took him a full minute to realize he’d been distracted by the vampire’s slack lips. They were so ruddy and full, he wondered what it would be like to kiss him, just once. As the thought popped like a bubble on the surface of his consciousness, he instantly recoiled, disgusted with himself for wanting to violate a corpse. But the idea, once planted, wouldn’t go away; and after all, he reasoned, even when David had been up and walking around, he’d been an undead monster anyway, and Michael had wanted to do a lot more than that to him – even after he’d found out. So what did it matter?
He could feel the change when it happened as his vampiric side came to the fore with his desire, and without hesitation, he pushed a fang through his lower lip as he leaned closer.
“I’m sorry I killed you. I think we would have been good together,” he murmured, and pressed his mouth to David’s. It was cold against his own, but not unpleasantly so, and more pliant than he’d thought it would be in death. At the taste of his own blood, he groaned softly and deepened the kiss, and for a brief instant he had a strong sense of David’s presence again, as if he was there with him to accept the drops of precious claret Michael let fall between unresponsive lips.
He pulled away and sat up a moment later, his expression both sad and fond as he gazed down at the vampire lying next to him. His tongue automatically found the puncture in his bottom lip and he worried at it absently until it healed up, feeling oddly… satisfied by the whole experience, even as he shook his head in disbelief at how far he’d fallen in so short a time.
“I guess it’s time to put you in the ground,” he stated, sighing heavily as he glanced up at the sky. He wasn’t sure how he could tell, but he still had about six hours before dawn. If he was going to dig a grave, fill it in, and find a place to go to ground for the day, he was going to have to get moving.
That was when he realized that he hadn’t brought a shovel with him.
“Dammit,” he snapped as he climbed to his feet. Snarling with frustration, he turned toward the house and weighed his options. Grandpa had tools stowed all over the place, but most of them were stored too close to the light and activity happening below for Michael's comfort right now, and he didn't want to risk running into anyone. Then he remembered a rusted shovel he’d seen in one of the outlying sheds. Knowing that he'd be able to get to it without alerting the rest of his family of his return, he was about to head down the hill when he heard a noise.
He froze and listened closely. At first, he thought it was the wind suddenly rushing through the trees that crowded close to the edge of the field. But he heard something else, too. There were other sounds behind the wind: the soft rustling of leathery wings, and a whispering, like a hundred voices softly calling his name. 'Michael.'
In the next instant, he felt a pair of arms encircle him from behind and a strong, broad chest press against his back. He gasped as too many emotions broke free from their moorings all at once, and with nerveless fingers he scrabbled disbelievingly at the black-clad forearms that crossed his abdomen, uncertain whether he was trying to push them away or pull them closer.
“First you get me all worked up and now you’re going to bury me? Typical, Michael,” rumbled the soft, seductive voice whispering in his ear, cool breath raising goosebumps as it ghosted past his cheek.
For a second, a wave of pure relief washed over him, and Michael allowed himself to melt into David’s arms before the shock of his unanticipated resurrection took over. With a final shove at the arms that held him, he broke away from the vampire, barely registering the other’s unsteady stagger as he rounded on him.
“David! What are you doing here?”
“You’re the one who brought me here and revived me, Michael,” the other teen rasped as he regained his footing and squared his shoulders, although his face looked haggard and drawn. “You tell me.”
“No,” Michael snarled irritably, “I mean alive. I saw you die!” he exclaimed, his voice taking on the harsh, nasal edge it always did when he got upset. “I saw you change from this,” he continued, indicating David’s perpetual two-day old beard and greasy, spiked hair with a wave of his hand, “into some sort of innocent choirboy. There was even a hazy light surrounding you, like your soul was leaving your body or something. How do you explain that?”
David’s smirk teetered on the verge of affectionate as he openly appraised the other boy’s frantic features. “How do you like those maggots, Michael?” he finally replied, mimicking the same wide-eyed, inquiring expression he’d affected when he’d first played that game with the dark-haired teen on a night that had passed only a week earlier, but already seemed like forever ago.
“Wait, what?” Michael blinked and shook his head, confused.
The blond vampire snorted, a sound caught halfway between derision and amusement. “Things aren’t always what they seem, Michael. You of all people should know that,” he explained patiently, his low voice as soft and smooth as velvet. “One of the antelope horns nicked my heart on the way through. It wasn’t bad enough to kill me, but almost. I was gravely injured and barely conscious, and since I wasn’t in a position to defend myself, I created an illusion to protect myself from you and your brother and his little friends. I hoped that if everyone thought the horns had done the job, then I wouldn’t be subjected to getting staked for real like poor Marco.”
A surge of guilt shot through Michael and he looked away. He hadn’t really expected that the Frog brothers would be successful in locating the vampires’ nest in the maze-like halls of the underground hotel, never mind actually killing the compact, cherubic Marco. And they wouldn’t have if Michael hadn’t led them there in his desperation to be free of the curse that now seemed destined to remain unbroken.
The hiss and click of a lighter being ignited brought him back to the present moment, and he turned back just as David lit a cigarette. The tiny flame illuminating his face from below in the otherwise dark, secluded field reminded Michael of the moment he’d first learned about the Lost Boys’ true nature, by the light of a bonfire an instant before they’d torn the Surf Nazis limb-from-limb. Adrenaline coursed through him and he took an instinctive step back as David glanced up and met his gaze, his eyes the same bright yellow they’d been that night. Then the flame was extinguished, and in the sudden darkness that followed, a cloud of cigarette smoke enveloped him as he felt the other boy’s hand grip his upper arm to keep him from bolting.
“There’s nothing to fear, Michael. You’re one of us now.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of,” he whispered back breathlessly. Rooted to the spot now by his own traitorous body because of other’s close proximity, his heart pounded in his chest as he attempted to blink the afterimage of the flame from his retinas so he could see again.
His night vision returned in time to see David cock his head as though he was listening to something Michael couldn’t hear.
“Ah,” the vampire murmured after a moment, his tone pensive. “Probably not the best turning I’ve ever planned, but I was in a rush.” He took one last drag off the cigarette then dropped the butt on the ground and crushed it under his boot.
When he realized that David had been picking up on his thoughts, Michael could feel a blush creeping up his cheeks that only intensified when the vampire tugged him closer and pulled him into a rough embrace.
“I’m sorry for that,” David continued, his face mere inches from Michael’s and human again. “I wanted to secure you before Max caught wind of my deception. I didn’t realize how strong you were; or that you’d be able to resist that kind of temptation. I admit that I was angry with you for not giving in that night, but it only made me want you more – not as a subordinate, but as an equal.”
“I... You what?” His head spinning, Michael gripped the lapels of David’s coat just to stay on his feet as his world turned upside down then righted itself again. Did that mean that all the casual touching and possessive closeness, and the sultry way David’s voice caressed his name - whether he spoke it aloud or called to him in his head, was because the tangled, unnatural feelings he had locked up inside him were reciprocated?
“I’d say 'unnatural' is a relative term in this situation,” David said with a smirk, once again replying out loud to Michael’s unspoken ruminations. “But yes, they’re reciprocated. Like you, I felt the spark between us the minute I saw you. Even if Max hadn’t ordered me to bring you over, I would have done it anyway; but I wanted you to be mine, not his – so I filled the initiatory bottle with my blood and mixed it with the wine, knowing that I would be bringing you to our lair and offering it to you eventually. Max would have killed me if he’d known what I’d done, but it was an act of mutiny I was willing to risk if it meant attaching you to me forever.”
Michael’s eyes grew wide as realization set in. “So you were telling the truth when you said your blood was in my veins.”
David nodded. “Yes. The reason you didn’t become human again is because I am your sire, not Max; and try as you might, you didn’t succeed in killing me.”
“Not yet,” Michael muttered darkly, feeling the sudden tension in David’s arms as his brows rose in surprise.
“After your impassioned confession, I would have thought that wasn’t an option anymore,” the blond drawled, his voice carefully neutral. “But if you’re hellbent on killing me so you can go back to your family, now would be the time. I’m weak yet; you might have a chance of succeeding.”
As soon as the words had fallen from his lips, Michael had regretted them; and he felt even worse now that David had called his bluff. For all that he wanted to be free of this unholy craving with every fiber of his being, how could he possibly drive a stake through David’s heart when he already knew how it felt to lose him?
He dropped his gaze and shook his head forlornly. “I can’t, David. You know that.”
A pair of cold fingers under his chin lifted his face so the vampire could meet his eyes. “I didn’t until this very moment. Now I do. More importantly, so do you, and together we will be unstoppable; but first I must feed.”
Completely thrown off-balance by the other’s unexpected declaration, all Michael could manage was a gasp as David's arms tightened around him. Even in his weakened condition the vampire was incredibly strong, and Michael was helpless in his powerful grasp as David raised a clawed hand to his face and glided it along the line of his cheekbone and up into his hair. Torn between passion and panic, he shivered at the sensation of icy fingers gently pushing his dark curls aside. Even colder lips followed, finding his warm skin and laying down a line of soft, teasing kisses against his neck until they found a pulse, and a heartbeat later, Michael cried out as sharp fangs pierced his flesh.
The first tendril of genuine fear unfurled in the pit of his stomach at the sudden and unexpected pain, and he lurched in David's arms in an abortive attempt to push him away, to no avail. His heart raced as a rush of adrenaline flooded his system, but in the instant before he began to struggle in earnest, the blond hesitated and Michael felt the fangs in his throat withdraw as the vampire's iron grip loosened and his body tensed with the effort of reining in his appetite. Then David lifted his head from the crook of his neck to meet his terrified gaze, golden eyes blazing with thwarted hunger and lips pulled back from blood-smeared teeth in a snarl.
“You’re not going to kill me, are you?”
Michael watched intently as the predatory light in David’s eyes faded enough for him to even be able to parse what he’d said. He saw the moment self-awareness returned, and the hint of startled amusement that animated the vampire’s face as he snorted. “Of course not, we are destined to be partners - possibly mates. But if we want to be well away from here before first light, I’m going to need some of your strength.”
Still nervous but oddly reassured by the other's hard-won show of restraint, Michael gave a tentative nod of assent then slowly tilted his head back to allow David access. Without hesitation the blond dove back in, sealed his lips around the bleeding wound, and began to drink.
As Michael clung to David’s coat, he could feel the bond between them spark to life with the exchange of blood, a profound connection growing stronger and more intense with each swallow; and beneath it, a burgeoning twist of carnal desire in David’s gut that soon had Michael hard and breathless with need as well.
‘Yes!’ the vampire’s telepathic whisper was triumphant and sensual all at once. ‘This is how you were able to sense what I needed even when I couldn’t form a coherent thought.’
“Keep this up, and pretty soon I won’t be able to form a coherent thought,” Michael shot back as his knees buckled and David tightened his grip to keep him upright.
The vampire chuckled and gave his neck one final lick to seal the wound, then raised his head so he could look him in the eye; but before Michael had done more than meet his gaze, David had combed his fingers through his unruly chocolate brown curls and pulled him back in for a savage kiss. Lips clashed - hard and hungry, stubble rubbed deliciously against sensitive skin, tongues danced and dueled for dominance while blood flowed from fang-nipped punctures, and Michael had never been more turned on in his life. None of his fantasies could hold a candle to the reality of being with another guy, especially one as terrifying and sexy as David, and all he knew was that he never wanted this intense, wild, unabashed passion to end. With a moan of wanton pleasure, he rose to the occasion and finally loosened his death-grip on David’s coat so he could reach for the man himself, but the vampire broke the kiss and held him at arm’s length, the pair of them panting like they’d just run a marathon.
“Come with me, Michael,” David proposed, as he gazed deep into eyes that were as fierce and golden as his own.
Dazzled and aroused in a way he’d never been before, the only answer Michael could muster was, “Of course;” but the blond shook his head.
“I mean come away with me,” he elucidated. “Let’s leave this place. Santa Carla isn’t safe for either one of us anymore, and probably won’t be for a long time.”
The leading edge of Michael’s euphoria faltered, and he glanced toward the house down the hill. All the lights were still on, but everyone seemed to be gathered around the kitchen table, drinking root beer and dipping into Grandpa’s Oreos.
He stared, undecided, while his mind raced. He couldn’t deny that he wanted David and the wildly adventurous existence just being with him promised; but he also wanted the security that his mother and brother and grandfather represented. He stood and stewed for several minutes as he watched people finish their drinks and cookies before they dispersed into various rooms to continue their chores, leaving Grandpa in the kitchen to clean up. Then there was a soft, hesitant touch on his arm that spoke of understanding and sympathy for what he was going through, and he was back with David, who was close by and speaking softly in his ear.
“You can have them, Michael; but only if you’re human. You and I both know they’ll never accept you any other way.”
Michael turned back toward the other teen and nodded sadly. “I know. I just didn’t expect things to end like this.”
“It can also be a beginning, if you let it,” David reminded him quietly as he slid his arms around him again, taking possession as unobtrusively as possible. Michael leaned into him, glad of the closeness. “We can go anywhere, and do anything we want; and as soon as you turn, we can do it forever.”
Michael decided not to think about the turning part for the moment. He’d deal with that when the time came. “Okay, but where would we go first?”
“Tonight? We find someplace safe to hide. Tomorrow night, you can pick which of the boys’ bikes you want – they’re better for highway travel than yours, and we can head out. Maybe up the coast. Maybe East…”
“Maybe Arizona?”
“Maybe,” David offered that small, mischievous smile which had captivated Michael from the very beginning. “If you’re good.”
“Never,” Michael quipped, and then sobered as reality caught up with him and some of his earlier trepidation returned. “Never again.”
David shook his head in mock irritation and smirked. “It’s not that bad, Michael. You’ll like it, I guarantee it; and we’ll be together.”
Suddenly feeling like he was running out of time, Michael paused to consider his options once more, trying to determine the right course of action. Like it or not, he knew that sometime in the very near future he wasn’t going to be able to resist the hunger that burned like liquid fire in his veins any longer, and he’d make his first kill. Then there'd be one of two paths for him to follow. He could stay here and lurk in the shadows like a wraith, watching his family go about their lives – a life he could no longer take part in – and pine for what he had lost until his brother, or the Frogs, or some new vampire hunter found and finished him. Or he could go with David and get on with his own life, living every night to the fullest. And whatever happened, at least he would have someone by his side to face it with.
There was really only one choice that made sense.
“Let’s go, then,” Michael replied as he made his decision, for better or worse. He glanced in David’s direction to find the blond studying him, hooded eyes glittering with satisfaction and dark with promise, and Michael felt the beginnings of a grin tug at the corner of his mouth as an answering tingle of anticipation crested inside him. Stepping closer to the other boy, he slipped his arms around David’s torso and held on tight as the vampire kicked off and they sailed into the air without a backward glance.
And as they took off into the night, wrapped in each other’s arms and whispering about the future, they didn’t notice the Grandpa-shaped silhouette standing on the back steps where he’d witnessed the whole thing, or see him go inside and shut off the porch light.