It's muggy. The smell of cotton candy and stale carnival hamburgers clings to the air. Dwayne can smell the sweat clinging to the bodies of tourists as they stroll down the boardwalk, oblivious to the monsters who stalk them. Paul and Dwayne lean against their bikes passing a joint back and forth. The security guard near the carousel is giving them the stink-eye, but he won't make a move unless they approach the ride. Dwayne's head spins and he feels himself getting lost in a tornado of his own anxiety. He can make things work with Kara, but there's a massive caveat. Eventually, he'll have to turn her. Charlie, too. The pack won't stay in Santa Carla forever. The city will wear out its welcome, as all cities do. Too many dead, too many missing. People get suspicious. They've never camped out in one city for too long. A few decades may seem like a long time to a human, but for them, it's the blink of an eye. For a long time, it was just David, Max, and Dwayne, prowling the depths of Moscow until the second revolution. They moved throughout Europe and the rest of the world like ghosts, picking up Paul in France, and Marko years later as a runaway in Oakland.
It's in their nature to vanish.
"What's goin' on, D?" Paul asks, blowing smoke rings.
"Huh?"
"You're distracted. You missed three potential meals because you're up here."
He knocks on Dwayne's skull. Normally, the dark-haired vampire would smack his brother or shove him away. Instead, he sighs and drums thoughtfully on the boardwalk fence.
"I'm in love," he whispers.
"Christ on a bike," Paul groans. "You're kidding."
"Is that bad?" Dwayne laughs.
"Yes, it's bad!" Paul exclaims. "Three girls walk into this group and all of a sudden my brothers turn into a bunch of quivering pussies. Now, Marko and David, I expected this shit out of, but you? You were the last man standing."
Dwayne finally gives Paul a well-earned shove.
"Hey, fuck you!"
Paul holds his hands up in surrender and laughs.
"I'm joking, I'm joking!"
"Right."
Paul knows to tread lightly around this topic. This is the first time Dwayne has felt anything like this in years. Dwayne can tell that his brother is attempting to broach the subject casually; with subtlety, but Paul is about as subtle as a fire alarm. It's simply not a talent he possesses, yet he tries to master it every chance he gets, much to the rest of the group's amusement.
"So it's that Kara chick, huh?" He asks, drumming what Dwayne guesses is a Motley Crüe song on the railing while keeping an eye out for their dinner.
"Yeah."
"I should've known from the first night you laid eyes on her," Paul sighs.
"What do you mean?"
"You've got a thing for little blondes, dude. That's why I told Marko to watch out when he first joined up."
Dwayne rolls his eyes.
"We messed around a couple of times. We all have."
"You and I haven't."
"True, but you and David, and then you and Marko. Me and David..."
"Good point," Paul mumbles. "What are you gonna do? About Kara, I mean."
"I got that much, Paul," Dwayne laughs. "don't know... If I bring up turning her..."
"Sofie'll take your fucking head off. Max'll have to line up behind her to dismember the rest of you."
"And I'd have to turn the kid, too."
Maybe Sofie would understand his justification for turning Kara, but Charlie would have to wait. He knows how uncomfortable she is with the idea of Laddie becoming a vampire at ten years old. Charlie is completely off-limits in her mind. Silence settles between them. Dwayne is comfortable with it, as he is with all silences, but Paul is beginning to go mental. The song he's drumming becomes manic and off rhythm. He's searching his brain for something to say, anything that could ease the tension that hangs above them.
"You wanna know what I think?" He asks finally.
It almost feels like a setup for a punchline that Dwayne is obligated to finish. He takes a deep breath and looks over at his brother. For as much as Paul plays the airhead, he's got a depth of experience to him that not a lot of people appreciate.
"What's that?" Dwayne whispers.
"I think you should ride this thing out with Kara for as long as you can. Have fun with her. Just brace yourself."
"Brace my - what are you saying?"
"I'm saying that if you can't turn her and you want to play pretend, eventually, she's going to want things from you that you're not going to be able to give her."
"Like what?"
"Like what if she wants to get married? Like in a big church with a priest and all that shit. What if she wants to have another kid? How're you gonna explain that you don't legally exist AND that you shoot blanks because you've been dead for 90 years?" Dwayne blinks. Paul sighs. "Look, dude... Fall in love, play pretend, feel that shit until it hurts. If the powers that be want the two of you to be together forever, then cross that bridge when you get to it. You could end up like Marko and Sofie."
"And if we don't?"
"Then you have to accept that, D. The downside to being one of us is that, sometimes, we're doomed to eternal unhappiness."
Dwayne chuckles sadly.
"Immortality is kind of soul-crushing, isn't it?"
"It's the one thing I wasn't prepared for," Paul confesses. "I never realized how short the human lifespan was until I saw them get snuffed out like candles."
Dwayne wraps his arm tightly around his brother and pulls him close, placing a gentle kiss on the top of Paul's head.
"Thanks, man," he says softly. "For everything."
"I'm gonna start charging you guys money to unload on me like this," Paul teases. He stops, his attention becoming entirely zoned in on a group of Surf Nazis harassing a young couple a few miles down the beach. Both Dwayne and Paul can hear their conversation from here. Dwayne glances over.
"Shall we?"
"Oh, fuck yeah," Paul mumbles, tossing the joint on the ground and crushing it beneath his boot.
The kill is easy, blissful even. David enjoys a challenge, a chase, but sometimes Dwayne and Paul just want to fucking eat. Drunk Surf Nazis are perfect. They have no idea what's going on until it's too late. The boys drink their fill until they're both dizzy and stumbling in the sand, the whiskey from the Surf Nazis coursing through their veins. Paul flops onto the sand and looks up at Dwayne who is cleaning his fingers.
"We didn't even have to buy booze," he laughs.
"Shit," Dwayne mumbles. "What time is it?"
Paul giggles, rolling in the sand while Dwayne dumps the corpses on an abandoned bonfire.
"I'm a vampire, bro. I don't wear a watch."
"We gotta get to the bar."
"Because of your giiiiiirlfriend?" Paul teases.
"Get up," Dwayne laughs, giving his brother a gentle kick in the leg. "We gotta go."
+++
She's pinned against the wall while Marko's hips crash violently into hers. Knife-like claws scrape against the already chipping eggshell paint and she yowls like an animal. He runs his fingers through her hair before pulling it back hard, forcing her spine to arch like a bow. A hoarse cry escapes her lips and his hand wraps around her throat as he fucks her harder.
"Do you want more?" He purrs.
She nods, unable to form words other than incoherent babbling. Dizziness takes over. Marko releases her hair and gives her ass a hard smack. She can feel the welt forming.
"Beg," he commands.
"More," she chokes.
Another smack. She whimpers as a wave of pleasure floods her core.
"You can do better than that, baby," he growls.
"Please, Marko! More!" She cries.
"Louder."
"Fuck! Marko, MORE!" She screams.
He pulls her hair back again, gently this time, and lets his teeth graze the shell of her ear. Her eyelids flutter and she comes undone in his arms.
"Good girl," he breathes.
The deep rumble of his voice sends her over the edge. She comes with an animalistic howl as he begins to speed up, chasing his own release. He's not far behind her from the sound of his ragged breath and soft grunts. She wishes she could see his face, eyes rolling back, plush lips parted, face glistening with sweat. She can picture him clear as day in her mind. His hips begin to leave bruises on her skin as he slams into her. The grip on her throat tightens and eventually, she's flush with the wall as he thrashes against her, one leg rising to get a better angle. He's losing strength, his entire body desperate for release. He's completely out of control, grunting, whimpering, and growling in her ear. It's beautiful. She gasps as the tip of his cock hits her g spot.
"Oh God, Marko!"
His only response is a rabid snarl as he slams into her one final time, emptying himself completely. He claws at her arms, twitching and shaking, barely able to hold himself up. They're still for a few minutes, communicating through soft sighs and giggles. He kisses up and down her neck and eventually, finds the strength to pull himself off of her. They both sink down onto the floor. The sweat from their bodies makes their limbs stick to the hardwood; her weakened muscles make her want to sink into the ground. It's not often that he wears her out. Being a vampire means almost unlimited endurance.
Almost.
"Holy shit," she laughs.
Marko's head rolls to the side and he flashes her a lopsided grin.
"Good?"
"Always," she purrs, pulling him in for a kiss. "Hey, I got an idea."
"Another round?" He growls.
"You're insane, you know that, right?"
Marko cackles.
"What was your idea?"
"Let's go to the bar. Kara's DJ'ing tonight. We can dance, drink..."
"Meet our favorite detective..." Marko snarls.
Sofie rolls her eyes.
"Marko..."
"I don't know, Sof."
"Come ooonnnn!" She whines as she sticks her bottom lip out in a mock pout. "You used to be fun, you know?"
Marko feigns offense.
"I'm still fun!" He picks at his fingernails for a while before heaving an overly dramatic sigh and turning to her, eyes twinkling with mischief. "Go get ready."
"YES!"
Sofie flings her arms around his neck and tackles him to the ground, placing soft, quick kisses all over his body. Maybe it's the adrenaline, maybe it's the fact that tomorrow night, they'll have an answer to their problems, but she feels so good. Better than she has in years. She scrambles to her feet and races to the bedroom. Instinctively, she pulls out a short, tight red dress and the black jacket that Marko bought her for her birthday. Sofie shimmies into it, cursing the fact that she bought something that was clearly two sizes too small, but it gives her far more cleavage than she actually possesses. To be honest, that's the only reason she hasn't tossed the dress in the trash. She slips on the jacket and saunters out into the living room. Marko is already dressed. When he glances over at Sofie, his jaw falls open. She giggles.
"Is it okay?"
He raises an eyebrow.
"Are you sure you don't wanna go for another round?" He asks. "Because I'm ready."
"Marko!"
"Okay, okay," he laughs, clamoring to his feet. He grabs her gently by the shoulders and brushes her cheek. "You're fucking beautiful."
She reaches into her jacket pocket and pulls out a tube of red lipstick. Marko gently plucks it from her hand and opens the lid.
"Hold still." He runs the tube across her lips, accentuating them perfectly, and smiles. "I promise I won't kiss it off this time."
She giggles and tucks her hair behind her ear. Marko leans in to nip at her neck.
"Let's go."
She jams her feet into a pair of sneakers and they speed toward the bar. For the first time, Sofie joins Marko in his wild yelps and screams as they careen down the highway, laughing as she clings to him with everything she has.