Love Conquers All _The Sequel_

Chapter Twenty Two - Late

Tex's POV:

With my bum firmly planted on the cushion of the sofa, I wait patiently. Kim is seated across from me, lamenting. Worry stirs in my ribcage after the intense encounter occurring only minutes ago. My shirt is splattered with tiny droplets of blood gone awry from Michael's mouth. But, Mary wormed the antidote from Kim's grasp, and Michael should be healed now, right?

I drum my fingers across my knees, chewing on my lip and smacking my spit to fill the silence between Kim and I. Despite Kim's murderous demeanor, I know she's just a scared little slush puppy, and I pity her. I glance at her, and she catches me, a fire in her eyes that contrasts with the tears staining her cheeks. I quickly turn away, choking down vomit.

What is taking them so long?

I am almost angry at Mary for forcing me in this awkward situation. Just cause she can fly... You'd think she's a queen or something. She'd probably claim that she is, could she hear my thoughts.

Clearing my throat, I speak up. "I- uh.." Hairs stick up on the back of my neck as I cough once more, avoiding eye contact with Kim. "I'm gonna go see if they're close," I utter, pointing at the door. Kim spits at me with a venomous glare as I stand and exit.

As the breeze of the night air hits me, I gasp. I can finally breathe comfortably without Kim's stony, hateful eyes penetrating my soul. I close my eyes and breathe in, then take a step towards the general direction of Mary and Michael's whereabouts. Strangely enough, I don't see them in the sky.

I begin to wander that way; I decide I will search for them. Michaels weight was probably just too much for Mary, so they decided to walk.

Along the pavement I look down at my feet. I'm wearing the same pair of shoes I wore when we first arrived. They're becoming worn, with their supple leather tongues losing their stains and the laces wasting thin. I have to see if I can get some new clothes or something soon.

The gravel crunching beneath the old soles of my boots prevents my ears from detecting the wailing in the distance. As I near closer, the crying finally reaches my eardrums, and my casual mood is shed within a moment.

I begin to sprint and, as I round a small corner, my eyes lay on a rather startling scene.

Michael is limp on the ground, his limbs sprawled around him, grunting in pain, and Mary is just sitting and watching with tears pouring down her face like a waterfall. Well, I guess, in a way, his weight was too much for her. Why is it that when situations such as this occur, Mary sits just crying, never taking action?

"What happened?" I ask Mary, gripping her shoulders to snap her out of hysteria.

"I frickin' dropped him!" Mary rips out a chunk of her hair as she panics.

"How is he not dead?" I wonder aloud. With this statement, Mary's head snaps upward, and here eyes develop a crazed glint.

"He should've died, shouldn't he have?" She asks, a crooked grin cracking across her chapped lips.

"Uh... Yeah, considering he was already close to death before you dropped him."

Mary begins to laugh maniacally, and it's a bit unnerving. I look left and right, signifying that I'm confused. Michael still lays gasping for air on the gravel.

"He didn't die! He must be immortal!" Mary shouts, and then I notice that the bald spot left behind from the way she tore her hair has disappeared; the hair's regrown.

"Mary, your hair!" I exclaim.

Her hand flies upward to the side of her head, and with a sharp intake of air, she laughs once more. She runs over to Michael and kneels beside him.

"You'll heal," she tells him quickly, "you're immortal!"

Michael lets one eye open, squinting at Mary. He looks confused.

Mary places her hands behind his shoulders and pushes him upright. He sits, silent, taking shallow breaths.

With his chest rising, he inhales, preparing to cough.

When the sickly throat gurgle escapes his lips, so does a massive burst of flames.