~BOOK 4/PART ONE~ Paranormal: The Battle's Only Just Begun (Multi-Bandom FanFic)

Chapter 17

Author's Note: Hey guys! I just realized I posted these chapters out of order. I don't know what I was thinking! However, it shouldn't mess things up too badly. Thanks for understanding and I hope you like it! -Rachael

The three of the leaders exchanged a glance before leaving the mansion, Bruno the last one to go. Patrick could tell he wanted to say something else, something to him, but the vampire turned away from the wolf and ventured farther into the home, listening as the door clicked shut. This was a terrible mistake, a horrific idea, and it was damn sure impossible. Patrick pulled out his phone and dialed Kenya's number. Ky rang a few times before going to voicemail.

"It's Kenya, leave a message, and we'll talk," The familiar voice said before a ring sounded, telling me to leave a message.

The singer heaved a sigh before saying, "Kenya, you're out of goddamn mind. You thought of this plan. Some treaty you wanted. I believed you when you told me that I could make this happen. I even did what you asked me to, but it didn't work," He snapped into the mobile device, "The only thing that was accomplished was the guarantee that the factions are never going to unite as one unless all these ultimatums are met. Call me back as soon as you get this, because I don't think I can do this alone." The call was ended and Patrick let out a long breath.

The front door slammed open and he heard laughter, the voices belonging to Pete and Jack as they reminisced about their adventures in Vegas.

Pete's laugh came to an abrupt halt when he noticed Patrick, his eyes locked on his. "Holy shit, man, you look horrible," He commented, tilting his head to the side as if the singer was some piece of art that he was studying, "When's the last time you fed?"

"I-I don't know." The younger of the two rubbed nervously behind his neck. "What does it matter to you?"

Patrick turned his head and looked at himself in the reflective piece of glass that hung on the wall, stretching from floor to ceiling. He really did look like shit. There were bags underneath his tired eyes, his lips were chapped beyond belief - complete with a dried trail of blood, his own, coming from the corner of my mouth - and there wasn't a single hair on his head that was in place. Even his clothing looked disheveled - the top couple buttons of his shirt undone with one side tucked in and one side left out. The singer cringed at his appearance and quickly tried to fix himself up, starting with his shirt.

"Dude, you're my best friend. Let me get you a pack from Rachael's fridge." Pete brushed past Patrick to go for the "hidden" fridge when the singer turned around and grabbed the bassist by the arm.

"Don't bother," He muttered, finishing buttoning up his shirt and moving onto my hair, "I already tore through it. There's none left. Besides, I've got other things to worry about. What are you doing here, anyways? I thought you were having fun with your new best friend."

"It wasn't that much fun after you left," He admitted dismally, "Reality set back in and I realized that I couldn't keep putting off the undeniable. You need me."

"I don't need you, Pete," Patrick retorted coldly, glancing over at him, "I never have and I never will. If anyone needed anyone, you needed me. But that was years ago. You've found someone new. I get it."

"I didn't find..." His voice trailed off, realizing that he wasn't going to win this battle. He ran a hand through his hair and shrugged his shoulders. "Look, man, I'm not here to fight. I just want to help you get rid of this demon. Because I miss our family. I miss you, I miss Rachael...I just want things go back to the way they were."

"Well, you and I both know nothing will return to the way it was." And with that, Patrick walked away. He had too much on his plate, and he wasn't in the mood or in the emotional state to deal with any more of Pete's shit.