The Girls

[Adley Reed]

BACKDATED October 2017

[LAKENNA]
“I don’t think I’m ready to go home.”

It hadn’t been the first time she had made that statement, and still, it didn’t change anything. She knew, just as Craven did, that she didn’t have a choice. There were bills to pay, lawyers to speak to, boxes to be packed – and yet, as the car turned onto the quiet suburban street, she wanted to scream. Dropping her head back against the leather of the seat, she closed her eyes to block out the mansion as the car rolled closer, as if by just willing it away, it would disappear. “We can still turn around, right?”

Even as she spoke the words, she felt the car come to a stop, the sound of the shift switching into park sounding as if her sister had just signed her fate. Swallowing past the razorblades within her throat, she forced her eyes to open, the blue shimmering with tears as she finally drank in the only home she had ever known. The manor that had once been filled with life now stood ominous, the curtains drawn, and the doors barricaded closed. There had never been a day when there wasn’t some form of life bustling about the grounds; the gardener, the groundskeeper, or even the dogs. There had always been someone to greet them when they pulled into the drive, but just like the day her father had died, it seemed the life had been literally siphoned from the world. No joy, no light, no love.

There was nothing left but pure and utter desolation.

“He’s not there,” she whispered, though this time, it was clear she wasn’t speaking to anyone in particular. Releasing a quiet sigh, she forced her unsteady fingers to uncurl from the cracked plastic of her Starbuck’s cup, the frozen coffee all but forgotten as it melted. She hadn’t even bothered to take a sip, every time the straw had met her lips; it had only been chewed into pieces. Paying it no mind, she settled it in the cup holder as she searched for the handle. She hesitated for a second, a single tear escaping to trail down a puffy cheek. She knew she looked like complete ****. Her eyes were swollen and red, her lips torn from the hours she spent chewing them into oblivion, her hair an uncombed mess. Even the clothes she wore, a single white t-shirt and a pair of oversized sweatpants screamed her despair to the world. “I’ll see you later, okay? Love you,” she breathed as she finally opened the door.

The cool autumn air danced across her skin as she eased from the passenger seat, her body mimicking that of an elderly lady instead of a twenty-three year old girl. Slamming the door shut behind her, she tipped her head back to gaze at the silent manor, her tongue trailing over the edge of her teeth. She knew he would want her to go inside, pack his things, and go on with her life. It was what he had always told her, yet, she felt as if was a sinking ship. Try as she might, she couldn’t stay above the water, and she couldn’t will her feet to move. Behind her, she listened to the car idle, and she knew that she wasn’t alone. It was that thought that propelled her forward, her breath locked in her lungs. Each step had her trembling, her tears falling freely now. By the time she had reached the door, she had dissolved into a complete wreck, her fingers shaking as she tried over and over to key in her pass-code to the alarm.


[CRAVEN]
It had a difficult past few weeks. To accept that her uncle had died was sealing the title of her best friend, her sister, being an orphan and Craven had lingered around as much as she could. She'd suggested they go out to lunch, to go pick up their animals, to even get Starbucks to postpone dropping Lakenna off. "We can always do everything but packing from my apartment. All you have to do is just say the word." She checked her rearview mirror and considered making a u-turn. She wouldn't be going back to work in the office until everything was sorted, she'd already spoken to her supervisor and due to the fact she'd gotten many pictures of Greenland, all he'd asked was for her to write an article when she was up to it. She'd made it clear that Laken was her priority and they'd agreed to let her work from home. Her audi rolled to a stop and she put it in park. A frown playing across her lips as she inwardly debated about continuing on. To leave Laken alone in this time just felt wrong, and who knew where the Shrew had gotten. "I can always stay, Lake." She offered.

Her heart felt heavy as she took off her seatbelt to twist, moving to watch the other and set her hand on her forearm. She felt like crying the second she took in her bloodshot eyes, the tear on her face. Where Laken looked a hot mess, Craven held herself together past her appearance - she'd dressed in a simple red jersey and a pair of blue jeans. That was always their relationship, wasn't it? Keeping the other afloat? From shattering? "Love you, too." Craven said the words softly. Cautiously. Any other day, she would have called out about slamming the door, but instead there was silence. She watched the other make her way to the front of the manor. She didn't turn off the car, or drive off just yet. She wouldn't until she made sure that Laken was alright, and had sent a text telling her to go home.

Her gaze drifted to the other's empty hands once she reached the door step and a frown played across her lips as she realized she'd forgotten her bag. Twisting in her seat, Craven found the bag sitting where she'd thrown it into the back before grabbing it and turning off her engine. The car would be fine, she told herself. With her keys and the bag in hand, she opened the car door and got out. "Lake," She called before heading up the pathway to her sister's side. Her heart broke all over again as she saw the tears and she set the bag down, "Let me," She said, reaching past the other girl as she slipped her arm around in a comforting manner. "I've got you."


[ADLEY REED]
This wasn’t Adley’s neighbourhood. His neighbourhood wasn’t too far away, but the differences weren’t subtle. Where in Adley’s neighbourhood, richness and poorness butted up together to create an amalgam of understanding and cultural acceptance, Elmworth was of a whole new league. He assumed that those who lived in these houses spat on the suburb next door, and thought even worse of the suburb beyond that. Westwall and Honeymead were Adley’s favoured stomping grounds, but to get better images and greater inspiration, sometimes his meandering footsteps took him even further.

The camera was always in his hand. These days he didn’t go looking for blood and gore to sell to the papers. These days he tried to take a more optimistic approach to life. He looked for beauty beneath the grime. He looked for beauty in the dirt. There was plenty of beauty on show in Elmworth, but it wasn’t at all natural. It was all manicured and man-made, and Adley wondered if there was anything worth his while, here.

He wandered, anyway. In a playground in mansioned suburbia he found a slippery slide with some graffiti painted down its side. At the edge of the park was a perfect picket fence and trees that had been groomed, local council no doubt responsible for the fairylights that were wrapped around the limbs month in, month out. It didn’t matter the season. Across the road was a lawn, perfectly cut, and a house that looked like a rich person’s Alcatraz. The house next door was similar. Adley found the right angle; the graffiti looked fresh. Had to have been, for it to still be there. He doubted those in this neighbourhood would stand to have the art remain longer than a day. It was too brash for their delicate sensitivities.

He wanted to capture the richness of the suburb beyond that single scrawled message in bold sprayed colours. It was a hint of the poor creeping in, a rebellious message to the elite. After capturing the image, Adley swung on the swings for a good ten minutes before leaping from them, crossing the road, and meandering further into the suburb. Watching, waiting for something interesting to capture.


[LAKENNA]
By the fifth attempt, her despair had been replaced with anger, and as her fingers curled into a fist, she let loose a quiet growl. How could she not enter a single ******* number? Slamming her hand against the door, she hit it once, twice – and when the third time came, she felt the warmth of Craven’s embrace. Her hand paused against the door, fingers played across the oak. “Thank you,” she breathed, though she didn’t bother to recite the number. There was no reason to. They were of one mind, one soul. Craven had lived in this house as long as she had, and as her fingers flew across the keys, she closed her eyes. “I don’t know how I can do this. I should never have come home. I’m not ready.”

When the light on the alarm switched from red to green, she pulled in a sharp breath, the scent of rotting leaves filling her senses. It was supposed to relax her, to calm her, but instead, she felt as if she were a second away from screaming at the sky. “Here goes nothing,” she whispered as she stepped in front of her sister, her palm pressing to the door to ease it open. One inch and she was tensing, two inches, and she was a second away from running, three inches – and something clicked. The sound was subtle, buried beneath the pounding of her heart, but she had caught it. Somehow, she had caught it – but only, it had been too late. She didn’t think to warn Craven, she didn’t have a chance to blink.

Click.

It happened far too quickly for her mind to process. One second, she had been contemplating giving everything over to the lawyers, and the next, she was thrown back. No, thrown was too kind of a word. She was literally blown away from the entrance, bundled in a blanket of fire. The heat was all consuming, and she couldn’t breathe. She couldn’t process anything. The roar of the fire drowned out the sound of her screams, and by the time her back crashed into the grass a few hundred yards away, she was unable to even remember her own name. Was she even awake? Was she dead? She didn’t know – how could she know, when all she saw was darkness? Open your eyes! She couldn’t. She couldn’t open her eyes, she couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe. It felt as if a ton of bricks had been dropped onto her skull and placed within her chest. There was nothing but pain and heat.

Oh, god, so much heat.

She wasn’t sure she was even consciousness. It was as if she were outside of her body, watching the scene from afar. The mansion was engulfed in flames, the front entrance completely demolished. The stone pillars that had once decorated the entrance were gone, bits of rock flying through the air to crash into the surrounding grounds. Smoke blackened the skies, and had she been coherent, she wouldn’t have believed what she was witnessing. She wouldn’t have been able to. Even now, when she felt the darkness inching in on her mid, she knew there was something she needed to do, someone she needed to save, and yet, as her mansion disintegrated into a million pieces, she couldn’t think of what. It wasn’t until she felt something crash at her side, the scent of burnt flesh filling the air that she remembered. She hadn’t been alone. She was never alone. Craven! Yet, as soon as the thought entered her mind, the darkness won, and she found herself succumbing as her world descended into utter chaos.


[CRAVEN]
The code was second nature to her as she kept her arm around the other, her dark hair falling over her features as she punched it in. Giving Laken a gentle squeeze, she stepped back and sighed. "You had to come home. Let's just get you some clean clothes, okay? To hell with getting things done. We'll work on it tomorrow, together." She frowned as she let her arm fall. The bag felt heavy in her hand, but she'd dump it out on her sister's bed and just pack it without thought. Maybe she wouldn't even do that, she'd just grab another and fill it. Bring them both back out. She'd been trying to get Lakenna to move in with her for ages now, why hadn't she pushed further? The question hovered between her as she waited for the door to swing open. Lakenna was in front of her, and the next thing Craven knew, she felt invisible hands shoving at her chest, her sister's weight connecting with her body at the same time and there was heat. Her head connected first, a whisper escaping past her as her body followed hard. Blackness enveloped her vision as she felt the wind leave her lungs.

There was a faint tingling sensation that ran from her thigh to her hip, one that she didn't register to be pain as she coughed. She felt something stab her, the smell of smoke and burnt hair evident. At her side, she could smell burnt flesh, but she couldn't remember what she'd been doing. Who she'd been with. Her head felt heavy, a fuzziness dancing within her head as she tried to open her eyes, a flickering brightness forcing them closed. She gasped for air and coughed, the noise a wheeze. It didn't reach her ears, where a constant ringing mixed with the sound of flames grabbing at the air around them. "Laken." She thought, the ringing continuing.

She thought, the ringing continuing. She felt a pull of warmth at her side, twisting as she tried to move. The moment she moved the slighest inch, she cried out - a mix of a scream and a gasp. Her eyes opened briefly, her head lifting as she looked down. Patches of blood and dirt stained her clothes, some parts torn and burnt away to reveal raw skin underneath.

She couldn't bring herself to sit up as she dropped her head back against the dirt. "La." She croaked out, panic rising in her throat as she couldn't see where the other had fallen. Carefully, she turned her head. Searching. Blue eyes opened briefly as she could see the smoke lifting into the sky. "Lak-en." She whimpered when she found her sister. Her hand slowly reaching out towards the other, fingers trembling and caked with rust. Was her chest moving? Was she moving? "Help." The word was said softly in a whimper before she tried it again, louder that time. She could see a shard of glass in her forearm. What the hell had happened? Her fingertips brushed against the familiar cheek just as she shifted her leg and froze. It was as if a white hot iron had cut through her thigh, Craven fading back into the darkness, flitting between the two sensations. Fighting to stay awake, but finding it hurting too much to be able to as her hand fell back against the grass against a charred piece of wood.


[ADLEY REED]
The last thing that Adley expected in this glowing, perfect suburbia was the mushroomed bloom of fire and chaos. All he had to do was take another five steps and there… whoah. He was nowhere near and he still felt the wave of heat crash over him, tickling at his scalp and rippling through his clothes. “Oh, ****,” he murmured; he should have taken a few steps back, should have been shocked or scared, but he was in awe. It was absolutely magnificent! He brought the camera to his eye and took a few snaps, the fire lighting the neighbourhood like Christmas come early – though of course it wasn’t Christmas decorations on people’s doorsteps. Not yet. They had to get through Halloween first.

He hadn’t seen the women to begin with. Rather than call the fire brigade or the ambulance or the police, he moved forward. It was habit, wasn’t it? He’d done this kind of thing for a living. He’d stalked accidents and crime scenes, he’d gotten to them before the authorities to get the pictures he needed without being told to stay behind the line. The camera was held at the ready; this was perfect. This immaculate neighbourhood was on fire and it was absolutely… ******* awesome.
It was only when he was close enough to feel like he was about to step into the oven that he heard them. Gasps, whimpers. Help, one of them asked. Adley approached the lumps in the grass and … he stopped. He’d lifted his camera, ready to take photos of the charred flesh, the blood. Oh, the blood. Nostrils flared, eyes widened. But he didn’t lose control like he used to. No, it was vampire blood that unhinged him, now. Humans didn’t excite him like they once did. One was reaching for the other, and Adley circled around went to his knees at their heads.

“Ladies,” he said. “You look like you’re in a bit of a bind…” he murmured, though he wasn’t sure either could hear him. He wasn’t sure they were even fully alive. They might have been pretty. He couldn’t tell. Adley peered at them, curious. The camera settled against the small of his back, the strap across his chest. He leaned back, backside resting on his ankles as he looked up at the fire. It was an explosion. A bomb. Someone meant to blow up this house. Was it the house they’d wanted to destroy, or was it the women now passed out in the grass? Adley arched a brow.

He knew if he touched them he’d only leech the last of their life from them. He couldn’t do CPR, then. That was out of the question. But he could… well. He glanced over his shoulder; they wouldn’t be alone for long. But … maybe long enough. He pushed up the sleeves of his jacket and, canines sharp, he tore into the tender skin of one wrist, then the other. Blood bubbled to the surface and he smiled before shuffling forward. Two at once? Why the **** not.

He pressed the bleeding gashes to their lips, hoping that whatever consciousness was left would, even in their sleep, awaken to realise the potion upon their tongues would save them.

[Lakenna (DELETED 9850)]

[LAKENNA]
There was no fear, no pain, no doubt. The despair she had felt only moments before have been vanquished within the heat of the explosion. She felt… absolutely nothing. The darkness that encased her mind had started to seep into her soul, and with every breath that she took, its tendrils crept around her heart. She knew she wasn’t long for this world, and yet, she didn’t mind. It wasn’t as if she could fight it, was it? She didn’t have to be awake to know that her body was destroyed. The thin cotton of her shirt had been burned away in the blast, and the skin of her stomach was nothing more than a charred mess. Her once beautiful face was utterly destroyed, but it wasn’t just her appearance that beckoned the Reaper closer – it was the unsteady beat of her heart and shallow breaths.

Each time she managed to take in a mouthful of blackened air, her lungs rattled and wheezed, as if she had spent far too many years with a cigarette between her lips. Her heart, despite the frantic need to survive, had slowly begun to edge on the side of death, each thump more hollow than the last. Yet, still, the girl fought. At least, she thought she did. She wanted to. She wanted to claw at the darkness, scream to the heavens for mercy, but she couldn’t. She couldn’t so much as twitch a finger. It was if she had become disconnected from her body, her soul pulling from her skin to stand above them. She could see it, in her mind, the damage this must have caused. Craven, bloodied and burnt; her house, destroyed. Of course, she wasn’t certain she was seeing anything at all. She was dead, wasn’t she?

If she was dead, why didn’t she see the light? Her father had always spoken of the light, of the warmth glow of the afterlife. He had reassured her countless nights that when her time came, she would know. Had he lied? He had to have lied. There was no way she could have survived the blast. If she had survived, surely she could open her eyes? She’d be able to hear something, right? Yet, all she saw was darkness, and all she heard was… silence. If she were still alive, then it was a fate far worse than death, because that meant that she was trapped within her own mind with no means of escaping. She almost wept from the injustice of it all – had she actually been coherent to process any of this.

Instead, she was a corpse, prone on the unkempt Easton grounds. Had she actually been conscience, she might have demanded the stranger help Craven. She was someone worth saving. She could survive this – but she wasn’t, and so when he knelt beside them, wrist to their lips, she… did nothing. She could do nothing. The blood inched across her tongue, down her throat, and she didn’t swallow. She didn’t know to swallow, she didn’t know that this was a way of survival, and so she remained still. Quiet.


[CRAVEN]
Everything ached. That was a good sign, wasn't it? Craven couldn't remember as she tried to think. There wasn't anything she could do. It hurt to move, she was bleeding and there were pieces of glass, possibly wood in her body. She knew if she could be crying, she would be and it would only be more misery adding to the significant course of misery that their night had taken. She came to briefly again, never lingering for long as she told herself to focus on everything. Once the ringing in her ears stopped being a roar, she could hear a bit better. The smell of smoke and ash causing her to cough, each breath she took a wheeze as she would repeat the cycle. Cough and wheeze, cough and wheeze. But, it was over this cycle that she could faintly hear the noise that her sister was making. And that was really what upset her. The two had been best friends for ages, would they really die together? What would her parents think, about putting both of them into the grave together so shortly after burying Vanessa's own friend. There was a steady clicking sound - one that she knew, but couldn't quite recognize followed by footsteps.

This time when Craven tried to call out, she couldn't get the words out. Her lips wouldn't move, her thoughts jumbled. There was a murmur, deeper than something that would come from Lakenna. Did he cause this? Who was he? Was it...? She didn't finish her thought as she slipped back out into unconsciousness. When she came back, she recognized the bitter, metallic taste of blood. Had she bit her tongue? What was happening? "No." She realized, her eyes opening a sliver as she felt the coldness. A man was with them, unfamiliar even to the little bit that she knew. What was he doing? Panic rose, but she did nothing as her body automatically let it go down her throat, letting the cool liquid sooth what the explosion had damaged. What the superheated air had done to her lungs. The word was lingering in her mind, but she couldn't reach it. It was the one she'd always been told she was crazy about, wasn't it? The one that her brother had become?

Whatever was going on, her brain didn't let her concentrate as she closed her eyes and began to pray silently. A tear slid down her cheek, burning the scorched skin on her cheek.


[ADLEY REED]
Adley had no idea whether this was something the women might want, but he knew that if they waited for an ambulance, they might not make it at all. And even if they did, they'd be scarred permanently. At least, this way, they would heal. Their skin would rebuild itself, the magic in his blood transforming them and making them whole again. He could have called an ambulance. He could have taken his photos and made a buck from them, just like he used to. He could have done numerous things but, the idea of siring, of bringing them back to life, of claiming them somehow as a part of himself, as something that he had helped create, it appealed to him. Deep down it was a desire, nay, a desperate need for more of that kind of connection that fuelled him. It was something that he was fully aware of, of course -- he'd always wanted children. Now he couldn't even touch them without causing the parents to worry. He of course was thinking about Kaspar; he was thinking about the man he called close friend, once lover, who was now deliriously happy because he was expecting two new babies. He already had one. Now he was getting two more, and as happy as Adley was that Kaspar was over the moon, he still couldn't but be envious, jealous. Deep down, to call his friend selfish.

Right here, before the crackling fire and on the grass, the two scenarios didn't connect. Adley was not a therapist, and he didn't think too hard about how his actions somehow related to how he was feeling. Some might argue he wasn't thinking at all. This wasn't a game. Vampires were not the gods they'd made themselves out to be, and the city was starting to realise just how bad they could be, if they put their minds to it. The city wasn't as welcoming as it once was. This could be a huge mistake. But still, it was a gamble he'd already started, and now there was no turning back.

One of the women seemed to take; awake, though she didn't grip his wrist like the life-giving force that it had become. The other one didn't move at all. He leaned forward, somewhere between the both of them, fingers clenched to encourage blood flow. "I want to help you," he said. "You both need to drink," he said. He didn't want to touch them too much. "Please," he said, turning from one to the other. "I'm talking to you, love," he said directly into the ear of the one he would later know as Lakenna. The one that unmoving. The one who was not responding. "I'm talking to whatever consciousness is left in there. You aren’t going to make it, unless you swallow…” he said, calmly, encouragingly.


[LAKENNA]
There was a voice speaking to her, but it was so far away. It sounded as if it were coming from beneath water, quiet and muffled. It was there, though. It was asking her to do – something. It wanted her to do something, but she couldn’t hear what it was. She couldn’t figure it out. What could she do? She was dead – or dying. She was dying. She wasn’t dead, yet. Is this what her parents had felt, this uncertainty, this lingering between the two words, between life and death? Had they followed that thread, had the found the light, or were they still trapped within the unknown as she was? Live, someone spoke, die said another voice. Back and forth, her soul bounced, like a ping-pong ball. Laken!

The sudden shout of her name penetrated the darkness and rose rapidly above all the rest. It was familiar, deep, a tenor that she knew so well. Daddy. No, it was impossible. He was dead. She had watched his body burn, had cried as the man she knew turned to ash. She had dusted their homeland with his memory – he couldn’t be calling to her now. He couldn’t be rushing across the burnt grounds, he couldn’t be kneeling at her side, whispering in her ear, begging her to drink. No, it wasn’t her father. Yet, she still tried to fight, she tried to push through the cotton that filled her mind. She wanted to obey him, she wanted to live for him, to fight whatever this was – but she couldn’t. She was too weak.

Craven, love, think of Craven.

The memory of her sister, her best friend, had her fighting harder. The invisible force that held her down was weakening, and she was pushing through. The tightrope she was balancing so precariously one was widening until she found her footing, and then her lips were parting on a gasp. It caused her to inhale, the blood that was being forced down her throat moving faster now, choking her. She started to cough, to choke and sputter, crimson drops staining her lips as most refused to go down her throat. No. No, no, no. This was wrong. Why was she tasting blood? Was it her own? Was it Craven’s? What was happening to her? She tried to shake her head, to scream, but she couldn’t. She was falling back into silence, into the waiting dark.


[CRAVEN]
What the hell was happening? Was Laken dead? Was she dead? No. She could still feel her heart in her chest beating, soft, but it was beating. She was still breathing - she swallowed and felt more of the metallic, bitter taste roll down her throat. It was soothing, despite what it was. What she knew it was: blood. She chose not to spit it out, she knew, she burnt fingers lifted to curl around the source. She tried to sit up, but failed. Clutching weakly, but she drank. It subsided the pain, she told herself. Later, she would be horrified, later, she would recoil at the action, but it was helping. As she did, she heard the encouragement - Craven didn’t want to die.

She wasn’t even twenty-five yet, and Laken... the thought of losing her sister had tears sliding down her cheeks. She let her hand fall again, but she kept on. Unknowingly, her heartbeat began to slow. Her wounds began to repair themselves, her breathing beginning to cease. As this happened, she became more aware of her surroundings - the crackling of the fire, the smell of burning wood and flesh intensifying causing her to gag. With a sense of renewed strength as she nudged the hand away, Craven began to cough and pushed herself onto her side. She sputtered as her need to take in oxygen stopped, at the very moment her pulse came to a stop. Despite the pain, she felt better, stronger.

Blue eyes flashed open to see a man with stunning eyes knelt beside her. She felt fear flash her - had he done this to her? Before the anger set in, the accusations, her gaze landed on her sister and she pushed herself up in shaken hands. “Lakenna? Who are... you’re...” She felt fear and panic rising in her stomach again, twisting with the horror of what happened to her brother. “Please don’t let her die.” Suddenly, Craven felt very young. She couldn’t do this again, not without her. ”Please, Lakenna.” She silently pleaded.


[ADLEY REED]
One of them began to respond, to which Adley smiled. She'd gripped his arm, she'd began to take the life-giving blood of her own volition. She swallowed, and he knew that it would do its job. It would heal her, from the inside out. He didn't know whether it would happen immediately or whether it would take a few nights, but he knew it would happen. Eventually. The other, however, would not take what he was offering her. She had not heard him. She was refusing the blood despite being told she would die if she did not take it.

And then one was awake, lucid. She was begging Adley not to let the other die, and Adley could only frown. He took the one hand back, pressed it against his stomache, stemming the bleeding as the wound on his wrist started to heal properly. He shook his head.

"She won't take," he replied. She was still alive, just; he could hear the way her heart struggled, the way her body fought. She didn't want to die. Who, really, would want to die?! Maybe, if she wouldn't listen to him, she would listen to her friend. Adley didn't know how the two were connected, but clearly they cared about each other. If there was one thing he knew helped when it came to life and death, it was the presence of loved ones. Sometimes they made the difference between letting go and giving up, or fighting and clawing one's way through. "There's nothing I can do to force her to drink. She won't listen to me, if she can hear me at all. I'm just a stranger. Maybe she'll listen to you..." he said. He could already feel the connection. It provided him a high he hadn't felt since Vita. It could have been the loss of blood, but he liked to think it was something different. Something special. That it wasn't just some meaningless chemical reaction. Family. Vaguely, somewhere in the back of his mind, the word whispered. He wanted -- needed -- family. This wasn't what he'd dreamed of when he'd imagined a family of his own. But he was making the best of what he had, and of what he could get.

And these girls were young. They were his age, he could tell. They were too young. They couldn't die. Not just yet.


[LAKENNA]
There was a ringing in her head, a sharp, loud bell that she couldn’t seem to escape. It didn’t matter how tight she held onto the darkness, the alarm only grew louder. The warmth of the crimson still stained her lips, and slowly, she found herself parting them to allow a single drop onto her tongue. It was the voice within her mind, the soft, pleading whisper above the chime of the bell that had her reaching trying. She couldn’t die. She was young. She had so much to live for, so much to fight for. She couldn’t leave Craven, she couldn’t leave… no, her father was gone. Her father had already left her, and he wouldn’t want this.

Fight, my beautiful angel, fight.

Rolling her tongue along the edge of her blunt, blood-stained teeth, she made a sound. A quiet, almost guttural sound as she finally wrapped her lips around his wrist. She pulled the blood into her system, her tongue licking across the opened vein. It was wrong. The blood was too thick, too rich. Even as she knew she had to fight, she found herself gagging. She hadn’t a clue what she was doing, but as more of the blood trailed down her throat, she found herself growing stronger. Finally – finally – she opened her eyes. At first, her lashes were too heavy, and she swore they were glued to her cheeks. It wasn’t until she choked, until she felt the tears burn the back of her lids, that she was able to fully open them.

The blue held a dullness to them that hadn’t been there before, but it was clear within her gaze, that there was so much life left to live and happiness to feel. They would brighten again, wouldn’t they? Even as she stared into the face of the man above her and saw his lips move, she… heard nothing. There was still… nothing.

All was silent.


[CRAVEN]
There was a lot of pain. Craven hadn't felt something so miserable in her life, the way that her muscles ached and screamed at her to stop moving. The smell was almost sickening. Any moment now, she suspected she would shift, that she would get sick all over the grass. She didn't know what was worse, that she'd drank a strangers blood or that all she could smell was burnt flesh and charred wood. There wasn't a single part of her frame that hadn't been abused that evening from the blast. What did the man mean, that she wouldn't take? Her eyes narrowed briefly, her head spun. Her stomach lurched as something cracked behind them, a pillar fell into the flames blowing hot air over their forms.

Sensitive to the heat, she felt her arms seem to prickle. In some places, her shirt had melted to her body. But, it was healing. It was something that Craven didn't notice, yet, but she would notice later. Her lips trembled, tears filling her eyes as she thought about living without the other. She didn't have any desire to trust him. Her nerves were running on high, but rather than argue, desperate not to lose her sister, Craven carefully moved her bleeding hand to rest against a non-burnt part of the other's form. "Lakenna," As the tears fell, she turned her attention away from the man and to her best friend, to her sister. How long had they'd always had each other's backs?

It was with the sound within her throat that she first thought that things were going to be okay. There was a whimper of relief. "Oh, thank heaven." She thought as she saw the movement. She shifted away, giving the man some more room. Giving Lakenna room. In some ways, she knew she was distancing herself from him. From a vampire. She knew she wasn't crazy, but it was all too surreal. The shrillness of a siren brought her attention towards the road, towards her car. The windows had been blasted in, debris all over the hood. The sound that escaped her was near hysterical as she saw it, as she took it all in.

She'd just paid the damn car off.

[Craven]

[ADLEY REED]
Times had changed, and humans knew about vampires. No laws had been put in place; no vampire was stopped from turning any human, though he assumed eventually there would be something. There would have to be, at least, some kind of law whereby humans can only be turned if they are willing, if it is their decision. There'd probably be paperwork involved too. So would it matter if those sirens arrived to find two new vampires at the scene? Adley would prefer not to find out.

The second girl had finally taken hold of his wrist. She'd shifted, she'd clung, she'd swallowed and life had wrapped its arms around her and hauled her back from the edge. Life, they might not have agreed. Yes, there were things that Adley regretted. He'd wanted a family. He'd wanted children. THEY would be his life. That was his only regret. Now, he would have a new family. A different family.

"Okay," he said, taking back his wrist and pushing himself to a standing position. He swayed on his feet; to bring them both back to life he'd lost a lot of his own blood. But though it was working on the both of them to heal them, they were still the worst for wear. Still, they had to get up.

"We should get out of here," he said to the both of them, shifting between them so that he could hold out his hands to help them both to their feet. "It's going to be far easier to get your revenge later, rather than having to explain how you healed so fast," he said. Or, maybe it wouldn't. "Unless you think your deaths will give you better leverage..." he offered. Honestly, he had no idea how it would all play out. Maybe he could be hailed as a hero!


[LAKENNA]
The blood was wrong.

It was wrong, but still, she drank. She drank until she felt herself grow stronger. She drank until she felt as if she could take on the world – okay, maybe that was a bit of an overstatement. She couldn’t take on the world. Even with his blood in her veins, she was unable to do much more than open her eyes. Even then, she found herself struggling, the blood thick as it coated her lashes. When she finally managed to pry them open completely, she wished she hadn’t. She wished she could pull back into the darkness, because to look upon her home and see it in shambles gutted her. Every memory, every laugh, every tear, every family dinner – was gone. Completely, and utterly, gone.

Turning her head away – oh, god, she could turn her head! – she found herself staring at the crouched man beside her. His sun-kissed skin, dark eyes, and his lips were moving. They were moving, but she couldn’t hear a single word. She couldn’t even hear the sound of her own breathing, or the rustle of the wind. She couldn’t hear a single thing.

The world was silent.

Panic gripped her, then, and before she knew it, she was on her feet. She was on her feet, and she was screaming. She thought she was screaming, she didn’t know. She couldn’t hear her words. For all she knew, she was whispering, but the pain her throat, the rawness she felt… she thought she was screaming. “Why can’t I hear? Why can’t I… Craven, I can’t hear. I can’t… I can’t hear!” She didn’t realize she had gripped the man – the vampire – but, she had. Her fingers had curled into his shirt, and in her hysteria, she had managed to tip sideways, her body unable to fully hold her weight. It was the adrenaline that allowed her to stand, the adrenaline that kept her going. “I can’t… hear…”


[CRAVEN]
She had never thought that she would become a vampire. Never in her wildest dreams. After her brother's disappearance, there had been nightmares. She'd remember the hunger in the undead man's eyes, the anger and rage visible beneath the surface. She'd remember the violence that had followed, the pain that danced through her body so similar to the pain that Craven could feel now. Similar, but different. Now, the pain was slowly beginning to dissapate through her slender frame.

Everything hurt, but there was more to it.

In the back of her throat, there was a steady itch that she couldn't distinguish. It was an annoyance beginning to build. That annoyance, however, settled as she took in the expression playing across Lakenna's features. And then the panic. She climbed to her feet instantly, moving to her sister's sides. Her hands curled around uninjured portions, her lips forming words the other wouldn't hear.

After a moment or two, her mind reached out and the words came that way, "I've got you. It's okay." She said without speaking. Her concern high as she tried to look the other over. "The explosion... she was closer. Her ear drums."


[ADLEY REED]
Adley's suggestion that they get out of there -- his enquiry about whether the girls wanted to stay or go -- literally appeared to have fallen on deaf ears. One pair, anyway, and the owner of the other pair was far too concerned about the first pair to pay any heed to the sirens that were drawing closer. If they left, whoever had wanted to blow the the girls to smithereens (both of them? Only one of them? The intrigue could wait until later) might just assume that there was nothing left. Or maybe, if there were no remains, no evidence of anyone dead, they might wonder. They might worry. They might sit on the edge of their seat, sleepless every night. Or maybe they wouldn't suffer at all, and they'd think they'd done what they had set out to do. Some people had the luxury of never feeling any guilt.

"Maybe they'll heal," Adley said, referencing the girl's deafness, her lack of hearing. He ought to have been more concerned but it was an emotion he couldn't summon. Even if she did lose her hearing permanently, even if it was something that his vampiric blood failed to heal, then it was something she would grow with, something she would learn to become accustomed to. Just the same as Adley needing to grow accustomed to the fact that his touch killed every living thing, and blood ... well. He wouldn't mention it.

"We should go," he repeated, circling the girls as if to round them up. They were on their feet; their wounds were still healing, but he supposed they'd be able to walk. They wouldn't have to walk far, he just wanted to get them all out of sight, and out of mind. They would need clothes. They would need blood. Their wounds would heal faster with fresh blood. Would they be open to it? He was nodding toward a copse of trees, around which they could go to find a path that would lead through to another cul de sac, a different street. Out of sight, out of mind.


[LAKENNA]
Her body had begun to knit itself together, and she could feel it. She could feel her skin inching closed, her bones beginning to strengthen. The bruises began to fade, but none of it was enough. Nothing happened to her hearing, and her body still ached, and now – now there was a burning in the back of her throat. It crept up into her mouth, and caused her jaw to ache. It threatened to swallow her alive, and for a moment, she thought to let it. She thought to sink back into the ground, but then her voice came. It entered her mind with a tenderness she had grown to love over the years, and she tilted her head back to gaze into her sister’s comforting gaze. She said nothing as she nodded her head, her arms loose at her sides and her gaze traveling from her – to the man that had saved them both.

She realized then, that she hadn’t thought to question the voice in her mind. She hadn’t thought to ask if Craven had spoken into her thoughts, but she realized she didn’t have to. It felt right. It felt natural. Closing her eyes for a moment, she forced herself to calm down. Already, she could see the blue and red flashing across the night sky, and though she couldn’t hear the sirens, she knew they approached. Reaching a hand out, she curled her fingers around Adley’s wrist, and gave it a tug. While Craven was able to use her own thoughts, she didn’t know how to reach out to the man across from her. Did she need to touch him? Did she need his name? She thought that would be something foolish to need, considering his blood coursed through her system, but she knew nothing of what happened.

And so, she did what she did best.
She went with it.

‘Thanks, for you know, saving us. Can you get us out of here? I don’t even know if you can hear me… Oh, god, this is so stupid. I’m stupid, aren’t I? You can’t hear me.’

The words seemed to tumble from her mind into his, though she wasn’t sure it had actually worked. Something told her it had, but how could it? None of this should be happening, and yet it was. Reaching a hand up, the Dane pressed her hand to her ear and closed her eyes. She couldn’t hear. She could tell the healing process hadn’t reached her hearing, but she couldn’t dwell on it. She didn’t have time to dwell on it. Adrenaline coursed through her, now, and she slumped into her sister’s side, waiting for them to find a way out of this mess that had been set in motion for her.


[CRAVEN]
"I hope so." Craven said quietly to the man, curling her arm tighter around Lakenna as her features held a minor amount of fear. Truthfully, she was afraid. It wasn't until she heard the sirens - the sound itself caused her to wince as if it were right beside her ear. "My parents..." It was only when Craven's attention fell back on her car that she thought of them. "Maybe I can tell them we went for a walk..." When her mom saw her car, she would surely panic. But how did the place blow? A gas leak? Did someone do that to them? No, Craven wasn't supposed to be there. She was supposed to leave and drop Lakenna off. Her fear slowly began to turn to mild concern as she wondered where the shrew, as both girls referred to Lakenna's stepmother, had gotten.

"He says we need to go, Laken. We should go." Her mind still screamed against the knowledge of what had happened. They both should be dead. It should have been the end of them. Craven could still feel pieces of glass and wood in her body - she was hyperaware of it. Was it adrenaline, or her body mending itself that made her so conscious of every little thing? Was it his blood? He began to circle them. Her nerves treaded on that had he seemed menacing, and not fatherly, it would have increased them signficantly. As it was, he wasn't moving in a predatory fashion, no.

It... was he checking them over? "Where are we going to go?" She asked, but gently pulled Lakenna with her as she took her first step. There was pain, but it was no longer agonizing as it had been when she'd landed. When Lakenna reached out to him, Craven stopped and lightly adjusted her hold on her sister. Gently, she nudged the other girl in the direction where the man had been nodding towards the trees.


[ADLEY REED]
The tug on his wrist brought Adley's attention back to the deaf one, eyes narrowed as he waited for her to try to speak, waited for a shout, the kind people adopt when they have headphones in and don't realise how loud they're actually speaking. Instead, her lips didn't move and her voice resounded within his skull. Ah, he thought. A telepath. It was comforting to know that her abilities were so quick to form, and perhaps it explained the way the two girls looked at each other without saying a word. Maybe they were both telepaths, in which case Adley's job was made easy. Easy in that he wouldn't have to figure out which path they belonged to. Not so easy because he had no idea about telepaths.

The first urge he had, he ran with -- Adley, who had no qualms about personal space or the fact that these women were still strangers, in the grand scheme of things. His blood ran through their veins, so in his estimation, they were no longer strangers. There was a bond that connected them far stronger than any other; they were not children, not by a long shot. But what he felt was akin to how he supposed a new parent might feel. His fingers brushed the back of the deaf one's neck, lips brushing a hasty peck to the top of her head. The broad smile on his lips and the consequent nod of his head was answer enough -- she was not stupid. He could hear her.

"My name is Adley," he said, gaze slipping to the other woman. He did not have telepathic abilities. If she did, she would have to relay the message. "I have a place we can go, somewhere quiet and private. First, though, you both might be feeling uhm... peckish. We should handle that first," he said, leading them both to the tree line, pushing through the undergrowth and creating a path that would lead to the other side. As expected, there was a street that looked a lot like the one they had just left. They were out of sight -- they'd have to keep walking to stay that way.

[LAKENNA]
Her world no longer made sense. Everything that she knew - or had thought she knew - had been obliterated the moment her father’s soul had left his body. Now, she felt as if she were standing on the edge of the abyss with the darkness waiting to swallow her whole, and the one person that could bring her back to reality had been ripped cruelly from her world. The sharp pain of that realization paired with the thick smog that covered the grounds caused her eyes to water, the tears that she had just dried falling fresh down her soot stained cheeks. Using the back of a trembling hand, she quickly wiped at her burnt skin and gave a quick jerk of her head, as if she could erase the events that way. When that failed, she lifted her wild and vibrant gaze to the man with the skin like mocha and watched as he continued to circle them with the animalistic grace of a wolf. When his lips began to move, she watched them curiously, until she felt the soothing hum of her sister’s lithe form when she responded. Their spoken words meant nothing to her. All was silent, all was… lonely. That didn’t stop her from trying to hear. She found herself straining as she turned her head towards the woods when she felt the wind blow. She could smell the smoke and fire, taste the ash on her tongue, but she couldn’t hear the call of the birds or the rustling of leaves. Turning her head again, she listened for the once familiar and comforting melody of her neighbors chime, but all she heard was her own thoughts and a dull ringing she couldn’t seem to escape as it bounced through her skull. There was nothing more. Swallowing the bile that had risen in the back of her throat, she quickly bound the despair and confusion in chains, before running her tongue along the chapped skin of her lower lip.

Somehow, admist the debris and blood, the taste of her cotton candy lipgloss had remained, acting as a sweet reminder to the world she had once been apart of. It reminded her of bonfires, her fathers laugh, the way he would lecture her and still somehow have such love and devotion in his eyes. Savoring the taste on her tongue, she found herself slowly trying to pull from her sister, so she could manage to stand on her own two feet. He was gone - her home was gone, and her body ached - but she had to go on. He would demand she go on, that she find a way to bring her happiness back to the world. At the touch to the nape of her neck, she jolted. It was the way his touch had sent a shiver down her spine, the intimacy of the act more surprising than unwelcomed. If there was one thing that never changed about the woman, it was her lack of a bubble. She was a free spirit, a woman born to be wild and untamed. She found comfort in the physical intimacy and wore her battered - but still trusting and loving - heart on her sleeve. A simple touch and a kiss to her tangled mess of hair atop her crown didn’t insult her. Instead, she found herself wanting to turn, to feel his arms wind around her as she lost herself in the strength of his embrace and the power in his soul - if only for a night. Instead, she tipped her head back and smiled. The curve of her lips felt out of place, but the sentiment remained. At least, she hoped he saw the truth hidden behind the grief in her eyes - or, maybe, just maybe, he had heard it all within his mind. She didn’t know. She didn’t know a thing.

It didn’t matter that this man was a virtual stranger. He had saved her - his blood had healed her, and she had risen from the literal ashes. Into what, exactly, remained a mystery. She hadn’t a clue what she had become, or who she was in that second, but as the flashing lights grew closer, she dropped her hands and laced her fingers with his - and her sister’s - before making her way towards the tree-line. She knew she’d find the answers she sought, but in the meantime, they needed to fade into the shadows and leave the burning ashes of her life behind.