High Stakes

Part Two

Part 2

SEAN:

The boys are filling in around the giant cherry-oak table at Victor’s, while Owen and I remain standing until they’re all seated. When Luke twists his chair around to straddle it, and he’s the last one down, I finally nod at Owen and sit, deferring to him, like always.

The other teams look down on us because we have him--our enemy, our prey--at the head of our table, but they’re ignorant shits who let their prejudices control them. I trust Owen more than any of those idiots. I would die for him--fuck, he’s taken bullets for me before, literally blocking my body with his. He’s my brother, no matter his predisposition for Type A pos.

As the others settle down and get their ‘listening hats on,’ I try to subtly look our leader over. He’s sallower than normal, and his veins are more prominent. His skin is tight over his cheekbones, and I know it’s because he’s dehydrated, unfed.

He’s such a piss-ant. Owen always makes us be healthy; physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, whatever, healthy. But himself? He goes far too long in between feedings. His control is astronomical, don’t get me wrong, but he’s much stronger when he’s satiated.

Owen clears his throat and immediately everyone grows silent, cutting off mid-sentence. I grin. Our boys are well-trained, that’s for sure.

Owen takes off his jacket, folding it crisply and laying it over the back of his chair. He adjusts his cuffs, making sure everything is perfect--obsessive much?--and finally takes his seat, sitting up perfectly straight.

“From what we learned from the thrall this afternoon, there are at least fourteen vamps that are in the immediate area, all high school age, and living in the school district of Ashley Waters High School. We still have no further information leading to the identity of the ‘Master’ of Charleston.” Owen quickly debriefs.

“Mr Lee?” he waves him on, giving him the floor.

Kota nods, “The best plan of action is for us to infiltrate the high school, get closer to the action. We know from intel that most mature vampires migrate to Europe. Maybe the Master is using the young vamps to build his new colony. We go in, reconnaissance, get into the belly of the beast, intel, etcetera.”

I smirk at the seventeen year old boy who uses the word ‘etcetera.’

The others nod, and then Owen turns to Nathan, “Mr Griffin? What did you get on the Sorenson girl?”

Nathan sighs, “I haven’t even seen her all day. She’s not visible from any of the windows. I did, however, figure out why she has ‘Origin Unknown’ on that list. Her parents are human. So is her sister.”

“What the fuck?” North grumbles.

“So she’s not a vamp?” Luke asks.

“Or she’s adopted,” Gabe offers.

The thing is, vamps in the real world are nothing like vamps in pop culture, besides the whole silver hurts them shit.

Daylight? Fine. It’s actually the thralls that become sensitive to the sun, but it’s not solar or anything. Thralls are sensitive to all light. Their biochemistry starts to shift and, okay, that’s not important.

Garlic? It won’t hurt a vamp any more than basil. Though vamps can eat real food, it causes them discomfort, and most decide to throw it back up (TMI, I know).

Crucifixes? Bullshit. Vamps can be religious, although I’ve never seen one.

Mirrors? Vamps have reflections, and they can be recorded on camera, with a slight blur to their faces, weirdly enough, like the lens can’t get a focus lock or something.