Chapter Text
They left under the cover of night.
Cause of course, they had to. Their father was asleep. The roads were clear. It would take them seven hours to get to the cabin. The window was tight, but it was doable.
Michael rested his chin on his hand and leaned against the window. The world flew past them. The quiet rumblings of the local radio station played in the background. Sam was talking to Lucy about the newest Superman comic.
“Tell me again why we couldn’t just fly there?” The teen bounced his leg restlessly.
Lucy eyes him through the rearview mirror. “You really think you could carry all our bags? Imagine if something fell out. Local man gets hit by a toothbrush that fell from the sky.” She put on a news reporter's voice.
“Then can I at least ride my bike the rest of the way?”
“What if we’re still driving when the sun rises? I’d rather move into the new home with my son, not his ashes.”
The teen let out a huff, going back to look out the window. He could see the ocean poking behind the trees and hills. His mom really thought they would be safer in a beach town?
A large billboard loomed on the side of the road. ‘Welcome to Santa Carla, ’ it read in big blocky letters. It was littered with paintings of palm trees and sunsets. Michael kept his eyes on it, noticing some writing on the back.
‘Welcome to the Murder Capital of the World.’
Oh, so that’s why Lucy brought them here.
—-
The Emerson family arrived an hour or so before sunrise. The cabin looked decrepit. Random boards stuck out of the porch. Weeds and ivy crawled up the sides like spider webs. Windchimes sang their tinny tune in broken notes. Michael wasn’t entirely sure how long their grandfather had passed, but it seemed the house had fallen into disrepair a decade ago.
The inside was just as abhorred. Stuffed mounts were hung on every wall, with some leaking onto the floor and couch. Tools and barrels of tanning fluid littered side tables and countertops. There were even a few preservation jars with the floating remains of squirrels and mice. Michael had heard his grandfather was eccentric, but this seemed to border on downright insane.
“Very ‘Texas Chainsaw Massacre’.” Sam mumbled. “I know we’re vampires, but that doesn’t mean we can’t have taste.” He poked at the head of a buck resting on the couch like it was infected (which it might have been).
Lucy dropped the box she was carrying. “It just needs a little remodeling. Your grandfather sure loved taxidermy.” A flicker of sadness crossed over Lucy’s face. “It’s been too long, Dad. I sure miss you.” She said to seemingly no one, glancing over at the hand-carved crucifix left on the dining room table. “We can unpack these boxes tomorrow. Let’s go up to the attic.”
The three Emersons made their way up the creaking stairs to the attic door. The inside was pitch black, with no windows to let in the light. The ceiling was high and looked relatively stable. More stuffed mounts were thrown around here and there, along with some power tools.
Sam sniffed. “Welcome home.”
“You should be lucky. The vampire who bit me lived in a cave.” Lucy glided up to a rafter, positioning herself upside down. “Come on, you two. We need to be up early tomorrow.”
Her sons did as they were told. Sam slept close to his mother, but Michael was a few feet away. He listened as the sound of birds slowly began to echo around the vast attic.
His mother thought they could escape, but Michael knew he would never be free.
The burn on his stomach was proof of that.
—
Michael was greeted the next night by his mother and brother unpacking boxes in the living room. The room was lit by pale moonlight peaking in from the curtains. It was nine-thirty-ish, plenty of time to go out.
“I’m going down to the Boardwalk.” Michael proclaimed from over his shoulder, grabbing the keys and making his way to the door.
Lucy was in front of him, arms crossed. Michael hated it when she did that trick. “You’re hungry already?”
Michael shook his head. “I just wanted to check out the Boardwalk.”
His mother hummed. “It might be a good idea for all of us to go. I do need to start looking for a job. Sam, put that down and put on a jacket.”
The eldest son grumbled at the idea of having to walk around with his family. Hopefully, he could sneak off.
And that’s exactly what he managed to do. Michael wormed his way through the crowd of tourists and locals alike, all strange and fascinating. The people here made vampires look normal. They smelled like sweat and smoke; all warm and alive.
He stopped when he saw a large mob surrounding a stage. From his vantage point, he could see the band playing. The guitarist was propped up near the drummer, both giving each other playful looks. The bassist was more studious, tapping his foot in perfect rhythm with his eyes closed. He had a small smile resting on his lips.
Then there were the singers. They were like lightning and thunder; dangerous and loud. The girl danced like a flame on a candle, fluid and fast. Her eyes glimmered with a beauty no gemstone or diamond could compare to. There was a power to her voice that beat through Michael’s undead heart.
The guy, on the other hand, was something wild. His eyes gleamed with intensity only matched by a predator’s. He was commanding, confident, and wicked. He smelled like a bonfire.
And he was staring right at Michael with those cold, feral eyes.