~BOOK 2~ Paranormal: A Lycan's Fearful Past (Multi-Bandom FanFic)

Epilogue - Third Person

Patrick looked over the tour dates and his eyes grew wide. "New Orleans?"

"Uh, yeah, Patrick. We have fans everywhere," Pete retorted.

"We can't go there," He objected, slamming the piece of paper down on the table and shoving it back towards their manager, "I want it cancelled. Now."

"The show is sold out, Pat. I'm sorry, but you're playing in New Orleans."

"No, you don't get it!" The singer shouted, standing up and slamming his hands down on the table, "I can't go back there. We can't go back there. Period. Cancel the show. I'm not playing it."

"Look it's one night, then you all get a break," He replied, standing up as well, "So get over yourself, Patrick, make sure you're at rehearsal, and be on time for the concert - or else." And with that, the manager left the room.

Patrick crossed his arms and shook his head, screaming before flipping the table over out of anger. "We need a new manager," He mumbled, "One that understand us."

"Patrick, it's just a concert," Andy chimed in, "I think we'll survive. We used to live in a lot of places we toured in, so this town shouldn't be a problem."

"Have you completely forgotten about what happened in New Orleans?"

"It was a year ago." Joe crossed his arms. "Plus, it's not like we're staying."

"Guys, I just don't want to go back there." He ran his hand through his hair and heaved a sigh. "And I certainly don't want Rachael to go back there."

"Fine we'll put it to a band vote," Pete exclaimed, "Those who want to skip the New Orleans show, raise your hand."

Patrick scoffed. "This isn't fair. You guys are all going to vote against me!"

"Those who want to skip the New Orleans show, raise your hand," Pete repeated, crossing his arms. The singer rolled his eyes but put his hand up anyways. He was alone, as he anticipated. Pete called for anyone who wanted to play and the rest of the group agreed to perform.

Patrick shook his head. "What great friends you are."

"It's just one night, Pat," Joe assured him, "We'll play the show and then leave in the morning."

"And from the rumors going around, Kenya is still in a coma. So we'll be safe to pass through," Andy added.

"You know what? I don't care. Because Rachael's going to want to see her, and I don't want her seeing her. Then on top of that, Brendon's probably going to show up and try to convince Rachael to leave me, saying that I'm the bad guy. I'm not the bad guy, he is, and he's somehow got her thinking that he's good when he clearly isn't."

"Sounds like someone's jeaaaallllooous," Pete sang as he danced around Patrick.

"How old are you, five?" He glared as he crossed his arms. "I'm just saying that it would be a mistake for us to go anywhere near New Orleans. Trouble always seems to find its way there. Plus, Rachael hasn't really thought about it in a long time and-"

"Pat, we get it, both your control issues and your ability to worry too much," Pete cut him short, "But we're going, so good luck telling Rachael."

*****

Rachael was sitting in the attic of hers and Patrick's new house, hidden deep in the Adirondacks - once again - far away from civilization. The house wasn't nearly as big as their last one, taking on a more cabin-like feel, rather than that of a mansion, though the house wasn't small by any means.

Her legs were crossed and her hands were in her lap. A circle of candles, six to be specific, surrounded her, each of them burning brightly, and underneath her was a chalk drawing. She straightened her posture, closed her eyes, and exhaled slowly.