ḾṎᕍ⁅ᖇṈ ℄Ṏv⁅ | The Lost Boys

ᏨᏲᾀᑬt⁅ᖇ tᏲḭᖇtẙ-ຮḭჯ

The night was deathly still. It knew what was going to happen, what had to happen, and all of nature collectively inhaled all at once, holding its breath until it was over.

As I approached the house, I noted how none of the lights on. If it wasn't for the fact that I could smell my family—the stale scent of Michael's blood and Sammy's ambrosian human blood—I might've thought they weren't home. I might've thought they'd hunkered down somewhere else, somewhere safe.

Luckily, the boys did not simply charge the house. They touched down in the front yard, standing amongst the totem poles and piles of scraps Grandpa had laying about. A viscid, supernatural fog rolled in, swallowing your five figures, hiding them among the graveyard of abandoned projects.

On the far side of the yard, Nanook was chained to the fence. The moment I touched down, he was barking up a storm, snarling and baring his teeth. There was no way they couldn't know that we had arrived.

I stay to the back of the group, clinging to Paul's arm. This had to be done, you remind yourself, there's no other way. Once Michael turned, Sammy would surely follow, and Mom after that. Star and Laddie would rejoin the gang and I could all live as one happy family. Never alone again. Never scared. Forever young.

David stepped ahead of the group, pacing. He came no closer than three feet of the front porch. "Michael Emerson!" he shouts, tauntingly, "Come on down! I've got something you'll want to see."

No movement. My eyes scoured the windows, only to find each and everyone of them blocked. There was no movement. The heartbeats inside picked up astronomically, even the slower-beating hearts I knew to be the half-vampires hiding.

"C'mon, Michael! We know you're in there. We know you have Star and Laddie. We know about your little plan to destroy us, but think about it, Michael. Do you really want to kill me? After all I've done for you?"

A face in the window. It was too quick for me to know who it was, but the movement caught my eye. Other than that, the house remained calm.

The boys began to fan out. Paul and Dwayne fanned out, Paul keeping me close. Marko stalked up to a window, tapping on the glass playfully.

"Michael!" David tried again. "You're protecting traitors! They're going to stab you in the back the moment they get the chance."

The door was flung open so fast, it was nearly ripped off its hinges. Michael. He appeared, eyes a blazing yellow, face half-shifted into that of a vampire.

He charged the group, "Don't you dare—!"

I untangle yourself from Paul and throw myself in front of David. Michael comes to a staggering halt.

From the house, I hear a shriek. "Holy shit."

"The Concubine of the Damned is back!"

Both Edgar and Alan peer around the doorway, armed to the teeth with bows and arrows and garlic. Edgar takes aim, "Give me one reason not to stake you again!"

Marko hops out from behind the bush and hisses. It scares the shit out of them and Edgar accidentally releases his arrow, sending it flying. It it's the nearby totem pole, bouncing upwards and landing somewhere in the tall grass.

Snatching the bows from their hands, Marko breaks them over his knee. "Careful—you could hurt someone with that thing."

Michael stares at me, mouth agap, as if he's looking at a ghost. He blinks—unable to fully process what he's seeing. But, it's me. It's really me. "Rowan.." He whispers  in a low, broken voice. "How are you here? They said ... They said you were dead."

"I should be." I toy with the bottom of my sweater, which is crusted with my dried blood. The ragged hole in the center has the worst of it, but the smooth skin it displays beneath says it all. "In a way, I guess I am. If it weren't for them, I ..."

A breeze rustles the trees. A wind chime plays slow and soft.

"No." Michael's expression melted into that of pure horror. "Don't tell me ... You're not ... You can't be."

You narrow your eyes, voice hard. "I was dying, Michael, no thanks to you. Those little shits skewered me for no reason."

"You turned on us!" shouted Edgar. "She's lying, man! We saved your ass! She's a vampire loving freak! A traitor to our species!"

"I wasn't about to let them kill for the sake of killing. Ask Sammy, he was there. He knows I'm innocent."

Michael says nothing. The information comes at him in an endless barrage. He frowns, brows creasing. What I said was contrary to what the Frogs told him, and Sam kept tight-lipped about most of the details, all save for his guilt.

My eyes darted to my little brother, half-hidden by the doorway. "Sammy, please. You were there. I know you were having second thoughts, you tried to get them to stop. You know what really happened."

Michael turned, pain and betrayal clear in his eyes. "Sam?"

Sam swallowed hard. He was just as surprised to see me, maybe more. He thought surely I'd be dead. Not once had the thought of them turning me crossed his mind. Sam wasn't sure if he should be relieved or scared.

Anxiously, he tightened his grip on his gun of holy water. "She called out to one of them and they woke up, right as Edgar was about to stake the little one. They were going to kill us but she helped get us out. That was when Edgar ... That was when he..."

Michael tensed.

Edgar and Alan's pulses accelerated, beating out of control. I could smell their fear from where I stood, pungent and enticing.

"Now you see, Michael." David snakes his arm around my shoulder. "You're harboring traitors. Those kids tried to kill your sister. When she was bleeding out, where were you? Where were you, Michael? You were here, harboring traitors. Here, planning to kill us, while we dud everything in our power to save your sister."

"I didn't ..." Michael looks back at you, blanching. "I didn't know."

David narrows his eyes. "But you know now. Take a good look at her, Michael. You made her into one of us. You killed her the moment you decided to take those boys to us. How does it feel to be a monster?"

Frantically, Michael whispers my name, pleading me to understand. "Please ... I'm sorry. I didn't think this would happen."

A part of me wants to be angry with Michael. I want to make him suffer—to make him feel pain. But I understand. Michael was so caught up in the seduction of the group and their monstrous nature that he hadn't once considered the backlash his involvement would have on my family.

"What's done is done, Mikey," I murmur. "You can't change it."