Thou Shall Not Kill - Lost Boys

Chapter Nine: Showdown

Beneath a veil of dust, dirt, and splinters, an agile figure drifted from the upper storey, layer upon layer of fabric flailing through the smog. Soft hands gripped the large block of wood, which led a trail of shattered oak down to Earth. Max didn't turn to see the assailant. He kept Sam at his hip and Lucy in his eyes, holding onto his failing vision of a perfect life with his perfect, 20th century wife and his imperfect children. Though he would never let his dream end, whether he could see it or not, the shackles binding his new bride were beginning to buckle.

The Frogs raised their pistols, hiding behind the illusion that they would be able to swing the battle in favour of the bloodsuckers. Laddie's legs followed the upward swing of the weapons, launching him to the humans' side.

Michael, Marko and Azrael made the rapid journey to the ground, where they stumbled drunkenly over the shifting bodies of David, Dwayne and Paul. David locked eyes with Michael, a sudden mutual understanding clouding the Emerson's judgement.

As Star's knees pressed into Max's shoulders, Paul began to roll onto his stomach, fear pushing the bones of his hand towards the surface as he reached out for Marko.

The half-vampire's body was swiftly followed by the railing severed from the banister, flakes of wood mingling with the smoke and coming to rest in the curves and curls of Star's hair.

Max crumpled below her, her skirt wrapping around his shoulders, clinging to the crisp suit adorning his ancient figure. Having driven the stake as far she could manage while fighting the pull of gravity, Star shot from her place hanging in the air, bouncing from her victim to the thin puddle that had spewed from Sam's forgotten gun. Her back arched as she writhed and groaned, dark locks sticking to her exposed arms, a small puff of steam lifting from her skin. Her skull slammed into the bottom stair.

Michael froze. Marko lunged forward, ready to sweep Star from the darkened pool now sprayed along the floorboards. Paul's talons grazed Marko's pant leg, blond hair exploding about his face.

Max spun on his way down. Azrael's jaw slackened as the chuck of wood removed itself from between the vampire's shoulder blades. The stake spun across the space. 

Azrael screeched. 

Marko bent at the waist, arms thrown up beside his head, neck craning backwards. His knees buckled, his magnificent jacket now decorated with a strand of blood.

Azrael's heart leapt into their throat. David and Paul's fanged mouths opened, calling to Marko and Star. The Frogs, Laddie and Michael hesitated. Scraping past the gaze of their associates, Azrael wormed their way between the fallen bodies and the blood and the horror. They saw Max turning to greet them, the beastliness slipping from his face. His jawline softened. His eyes dulled.

Azrael's vision narrowed to the repulsively calm face grinning in twisted pleasure. It was just him and them. The people they had been fighting for were scattered around their home. Their hairband struggled to keep hold of the flying locks intermingling with the dark shapes that stretched across the mortal's face.

To the others in that suffocating room, all semblance of the cool, humorous human had disappeared. A ring of firelight was strung around their head, glowing in ethereal perfection. Their humanity was lost in the shadows of a harsh, supernatural world.

They forced their left hand toward Max's chest, ripping through his suit and ploughing into his flesh. The blunt blade pried him open, blood trickling down their wrist. It was shockingly cold, and it shot a spasmic chill through their back, as though someone had taken a stick and run it down their spine, playing each vertebrate like some gothic xylophone. It was a distorted, low tune that reverberated through the floor around Azrael's feet.