Call me animal.

[phantastus]

WHO: Heather Mason and Maurice Hutch (OC)
WHERE: Dogtrot, Texas
WHEN: Just easing into spring.
WHAT: What probably would have been a night spent loitering around the drug store and breaking bottles in the alley like generic malcontent youths takes several unexpected turns when a vampire hunter interrupts Maurice while waiting for his friend from up north.
RATING: Probably PG. CW for violence, mild body horror and transformation.




awsum
ill be outside where the rentareel used to be

Maurice had put out the call and now he was in his place, hands in his coat pockets. He hadn't seen his friend for a while now. One thing or another would come up (said things including worrying mothers, various injuries, and plain bad weather) and now that at least the weather had calmed its bad self down, the world was ready to be trampled again.

And what a night for it! It was clear with chilly breezes sneaking around buildings and down alleyways. An orange moon hung low on the horizon and kept the clouds far on the edges of the horizon. It wouldn't rain for two more days. Spring was coming. The tiny green shoots had just barely started poking out of the ground where there was enough actual soil instead of the red clay of Dogtrot. Crispy dead leaves still hung in the corners where the buildings met the sidewalk. Easter candy all but overflowed on super market shelves.

The vampire thought of all the things they would do once Heather got there. They could graffiti the old building marked to be torn down the following week since it was technically not illegal anymore. They could eat pizza at Tod's until they were sick. And DRANKS. And Sega. If Meranda hadn't taken over the sofa for the night. An outlet in her room had blown (or so she said) so she spent a lot of time on the sofa during her WoW raids.

Something interrupted his thoughts. He had lived in Dogtrot for years now and not a lot surprised him. He knew the local vampires, he even knew a local spook or two. He knew the drug addicts and the few homeless and what they sounded like. What he heard on that empty chilly street was none of those things.

"Quack quack!" It was mechanical. Grainy.

Maurice lifted a brow and tugged his phone out wondering if Meranda had passive-aggressively changed the ring on it again.

"Quack quack!"

"The hell...?" It wasn't his phone. Maurice pocketed it and looked all around. The quack came from an alley across the street between a now defunct QUICK CASH and what was going to be a shiny new laundromat. Maurice looked both ways and ventured forward into the gloom.

The garbage can at the end of the alley quacked. Maurice screwed up his face in thought. Broken toy that suddenly came back to life? Stranded cyborge duck?

Up above on the rooftop, a long and lean and very crafty hunter was watching his prey fall for his trap hook, line, and sinker. His father had been a hunter--a normal hunter. Deer, ducks, rams. He had watched him make odd noises to get the attention of the deer. A whistle or a click to make them stop in just the right place. Sometimes to even lure them in.

Humans were the most curious animals that he knew of and though the thing in the alleyway wasn't human (not in the slightest) he had to watch it in fascination and amusement before he made his move.

Maurice peered into the trash. There was an old Talkboy straight from the eighties in the trash quacking away.

"Oh, man, sweet!" It was all his! He reached for it. Something dressed in full army camo descended upon him and drove a thin knife into his shoulder. Maurice screamed like a wildcat and the fight began.

Comments

[foolishwren]

cool c u there in like 5 mins lol

It was hard to believe, after everything that happened on the night of her father's death, that Heather would ever have been comfortable venturing into rifts and otherworlds by her own volition.

But well, here she was.

At least bending physics to get to Texas from Maine in ten minutes' time didn't involve any death or mayhem.

It was a path she'd trod often enough by now to be familiar with it, even if it had been a few months since she'd last gotten together with her undead southern buddy. The sleepy town of Dogtrot was a pleasant enough place to spend time, if only because it was a nice change of scenery from the slush and icy roads that had been clinging on well past their time back in Bangor. She rounded the street-corner in the middle of tugging off the heavy hoodie she'd worn out-- even a chilly Texas evening was practically balmy to anyone used to Maine winters.

Once she'd yanked it over her head, she realized she'd actually walked right past the designated meeting spot and carefully backstepped until she reached it again.

That was weird.

She dug out her phone to recheck the message she'd received.

Nope, this was definitely the right place.

There was just a very distinct lack of vampire.

Slipping the cell back into her pocket, Heather looked around again, uncertainty creeping in. It wasn't that it was totally out of the question for Maurice to be late for something. He was hardly a shining poster child of punctual arrivals. But he'd said he was already right in town. That was a pretty decent head start compared to someone passing through a couple hidden rifts and grottos to get there, no matter how well-memorized.

"... Huh..."

Thumbing her pocket, she briefly considered pulling the phone back out to shoot off a standard 'where r u' text.

Then she heard the scream.

[toothaches]

Maurice hit the blacktop with the older man on top of him.

His arm was wretched with pain and the weight from his attacker pressed the scream out of him. He could not inhale.

It was the first time he'd been pounced like this. Most hunters he knew came at him from behind or below or even faced him and gave him a monologue. The rage that tore through him was more directed at himself for being so gullible than at the man stabbing him repeatedly in the back. Maurice went into a death roll but quickly found an arm around his neck. It was strong. The vampire reached around behind him and raked his claws against the side of the man's helmet. Helmet!?

Anthony's hand shook. He drove the knife in again and again but somehow managed to miss the monster's heart each time. The blade was too short. The coat and flesh on the creature were too bulky. It had worked so perfectly in his head. He knew all about getting humans to stop moving. Bootcamp had taught him that. Monsters were different. The thrill of actually being up close to one of the things his father and uncle talked about was like being on a roller coaster. Part of him didn't want it to end.

That was stupid. Childish. He started hacking at the vampire's fleshy neck instead. That stupid fur ruff wouldn't save him.

[foolishwren]

Yo, stabbing people in the neck isn't a very nice thing to do, dude.

What were you, raised by wolves?

Well, no matter.

When Anthony drew his arm back for the fifth or sixth slash, he would suddenly find himself unable to bring it down again. Something had clamped around it-- not the wrist. His whole arm.

A set of giant fingers, blacker than the shadows he'd hidden in while Maurice wandered after his bait.

[toothaches]

It sure wasn't! Somebirdy better teach Anthony a lesson!

Anthony's arm was strong but not strong as the sudden force that had latched onto it. Reinforcements! Of course he wouldn't travel alone. Vampires traveled in packs! Like cockroaches! Disgusting! Just like Pa said. Anthony kneed Maurice in the back of the head--and hard-- before turning and swiping at whatever made the mistake of walking into the alleyway with him in it.

[foolishwren]

The eerie glow of eyeshine was something any vampire hunter probably familiarized themselves with before anything else-- how to tell a lurking allycat or a marauding raccoon apart from bloodsucking denizens of the underworld about to fly out of the shadows towards your jugular was probably pretty important.

But the two glowing circles that met Anthony as he whirled around were not the result of light bouncing off lenses and reflecting back.

They were two smoldering embers that made their own light, and also smoke. Tendrils of literal smoke drifted up from them and off into the night as they stared down at the vampire hunter, then at the faintly-glowing orange line that his knife had made on the back of its enormous hand. Then they followed the smoky trails skyward as their owner stood up. And up. And UP.

[toothaches]

Anthony had been on his share of forest trails at night and he had seen trucks and jeeps of all kinds roar past. He had been in those jeeps before--spotlighting illegally with his uncle. They jeered together at the hapless clusters of does trapped in the beams.

His whole body shivered despite the heat rolling off of those hellish headlights. Out of reflex, stupidly, he too followed the phantom trails of smoke that leaked from the piddly wound on the monster's hand.

Meanwhile, back at the farm, Maurice was still face-down on the blacktop smarting all over something fierce with the hunter perched on top of him. Anthony had severed quite a few vital wick highways during his little stabbing frenzy and one of his arms was completely useless until they mended themselves. Not to mention hitting concrete after several pounds of man muscle stunned you hurt and he ached for every poor soul he'd had to pounce.

Why had the stabbing stopped? He turned his head to one side and managed to suck in enough air to let out a growl.

[foolishwren]

The thing stood until it blotted out the street lights at the mouth of the alley.

As if to replace them, a line of searing light opened below the sizzling eyes.

A mouth. Or a beak, more accurately.

The sound that came out of the beak could barely be classified as a growl. It was the rumble that made your floor vibrate when a cumulus cloud had picked your house to grow fat and dark over, combined with a phlegmy, organic snarl that brought it down to earth just enough to stop you from forgetting the situation.

Here, 'you' would be Anthony, and 'the situation' would be the part where a god had him by the arm.

The beast narrowed its fiery eyes and yanked the hunter up into the air like a ragdoll.

YOU GET A LINE AND I'LL GET A POLE

[toothaches]

The sun had only just set and the heat of the day now drifted up from the red clay and stones that Dogtrot was made of. The smell of damp grass and lichen and bark filled the air like a fog and there was sound. Spring had began in earnest and the pine woods were full of peeping frogs and the sawing songs of crickets. And mosquitoes.

Dear sweet Jesus were there mosquitoes. Luckily for one of the two folks picking their way through the tall grass and fallen branches, he didn't really attract them since he gave off no heat.

Maurice stepped high in his rubber boots. The vampire wore his fishing hat right and proper and a canvas backpack that rattled. A pair of fishing poles bobbed over one shoulder (because he didn't trust Heather not to whap him with the thing as they walked) and he swung a camping lantern back and forth in his free hand. The path they sluggishly zig zagged down hadn't been taken in...quite some time. Not this path.

"Did I ever tell you about the time I got caught in a bear trap out here? Almost broke my damn leg!"

[foolishwren]

Unattractive to mosquitos: one of the few perks to being dead.

Heather, on the other hand, was slapping at herself what felt like every three seconds.

There were skeeters aplenty up north, but not in quantities like this.

"No, can't say you did. Before you do though, could you PLEASE tell me you brought some bug spray? I'm gonna DIE."

[toothaches]

"Uhm--" Maurice broke off from Storytime momentarily to look embarrassed. He'd forgotten. He tended to forget that things like mosquitoes were...well, things. "Well--! If you'd worn sleeves like a normal human being maybe it wouldn't be a problem!"

He did not understand the girl's aversion to sleeves. He wasn't sure if he'd ever actually seen her in--no. She wore a hoodie. Once. Maybe.

"I told you we was goin' fishin'!"

[foolishwren]

"NO, because they'd still get my face. AND neck. AND I'd also die from heatstroke," she groused as she tromped after him.

HMPH.

"... And anyway, the mosquitos aren't back from hibernation yet in Maine. Or wherever it is they fuck off to in the winter."

[toothaches]

Maurice trudged onward. And he thought.

Where did they go? He assumed they just all died but...then where would they come from when spring came back? He was so engrossed with this new revalation that he didn't even turn his head when they passed a pile of very old, very mildewed looking shoes situated next to a tree. They were mostly covered with leaves and pine needles. Except one. A left shoe. It was fresh--a converse. Red.

[foolishwren]

She followed behind, still grumbling.

Until the grumbling suddenly stopped.

"... Dude... is that your shoe pile?"

If Maurice turned around, he would find Heather standing in front of the stack, looking down with a wrinkled nose.

"You kinda let it go, didn't you?"

[toothaches]

Boots? Check.

Actual coat with sleeves? Check.

Adventure Backpack with first aid kit, snacks, flashlight, and extra clothes because somebody has a bad habit of hulking out and throwing theirs into random bodies of water? Check.

It wasn't that it was cold. It was a nice night with a light breeze but Maurice knew better than to stalk into new territory without sleeves. He could get caught by the sun. Or briers. Both sucked. They had gone the long way around the pond, around his shoe pile (for reasons) and now they had just crossed a barbed wire fence. Maurice stood on the wires and bowed the whole thing to the ground. The wood was old and the wire was black.

They weren't, however, so deep in the woods that they couldn't still hear civilization. Street lights glimmered in the gaps between the pines like stars that had fallen to earth. The woods stretched along the fields and encircled the town itself before thinning into farmland and small neighborhoods. The ghost of a farmhouse sat like a ship at sea between the treeline and the lights of the city.

The vampire squinted at it before turning back to his friend.

"Alright, Big Bird...we're in new territory now, so be nice to the neighbors."

[foolishwren]

"Nice to the neighbors. Got it."

Sitting on her haunches behind him like an oversized hood ornament, Heather was already in Tall, Dark and Shaggy mode. She was looking all around, the earlike tufts standing straight up.

Their last venture had kindled a confident little fire in her chest that hadn't been there before.

"But if one starts luring you out into deep water, I'm still allowed to punch it, right?"

[toothaches]

"I guess so, you wild animal." Maurice rolled his eyes. He'd actually packed earplugs just in case. "C'mon."

He looked out at the woods. Real honest-to-goodness unexplored territory. It felt a little strange. He had a nervousness in him--one that he wouldn't have had if they were world walking. He hadn't world walked in a long time. It was slowly dawning on him that there were still wonders in this world left to explore.

One example loomed behind him.

"How's your sense of smell when you're that thing, anyway?"

[foolishwren]

"Um, it's pretty good... but not like... super nose or anything. My eyesight's phenomenal, though."

ALL her senses seemed heightened when she operated this new body-- but it was hard to tell if it was a perk or if she'd just woken up somehow. Because when she returned to her normal self, the smells and sights leaped out more still.

She blinked her lamplike eyes, snuffling audibly through the nostrils in her beak.

"What'd you pack to eat? Peanut butter?"

[toothaches]

"A couple subs," Maurice corrected her. "Hopefully one the right size for your big mouth."

He leaned and pushed a low branch out of his way. The weeds were high and old wood burst apart under their feet. It was hard to tell if there were even deer or hog trails out this far.

"I hope nobody lives back in here...but I don't think they do. These woods always looked pretty thick from the air."

[foolishwren]

A giant finger was lifted to flick the back of Maurice's head.

Then she tossed her own head proudly and stood upright, starting to stalk after him through the underbrush.

"Well, you never know. I bet you didn't think anybody was livin' in that pond, either."

[toothaches]

It was raining.

It had been a nice enough drive. He actually wanted to drive this time instead of stalking through the woods in search of tree gates. Somehow, it felt more official. Getting in the truck and going to see Mom. And it wasn't like he was alone! So after a couple of hours of loud, terrible-on-purpose singing, they arrived.

Maurice ducked quickly onto the porch and crouched down to get the key out from under the little stone cherub seated on the front step. Margret had left a pot of soup on the counter for them and a detailed feeding schedule for the cats--all of which seemed to be piled on Maurice's parents' bed. A god in the house? Pfffff. They were cats.

And what did you do when your parents weren't home and wouldn't be home for quite some time? CHECK OUT WHERE THE FUCK THEY HID THE CHRISTMAS PRESENTS. That was their current quest. He had to know what his folks were getting the kids so he could get some idea of what they even liked these days. He hadn't seen them in forever.

Maurice steadied himself on the wooden attic ladder. It creaked under his boots and he bit his lip.

"Y'know, I don't think this thing is gonna handle me...she always makes Dad squirrel around up there."

[foolishwren]

Underneath him, down on the floor, Heather put her hands on her hips and dubiously stared up at his large rear end blotting out the view of the little attic door.

"... You want me to go up instead? I mean, I'd rather not, after what happened last time, but if the alternative is the ladder breaking and you falling on me..."

[toothaches]

Maurice bit his lip. Well...he hated to send his friend up into a creepy cramped space. But he also hated to be the uncle with the shitty gifts at Christmas. Maurice backed down off the ladder and made a showy gesture, allowing her entry.

"You're a hero."

[foolishwren]

"If I die up there, I'll come haunt you."

With that, she started to make her way up the rickety ladder, which still wobbled even though she was like half Maurice's size.

[toothaches]

Maurice leaned on the ladder and kept his eye on her.

"Can ghosts even leave the houses they died in?" He was a vampire. Ghosts were't his area of expertise. "Have fun haunting Mom's cats."

The attic looked as it had last time. It was cramped, a little musty, and stuffed with boxes of clothes and old dishes and blankets and bags of children's things. The eaves overhead groaned as the air pressure changed. Thin cascades of dust trickled downward here and thre.

[foolishwren]

"Ghosts can latch onto people, bro. Haven't you ever seen Ghost Adventures?"

She coughed into her fist as she made it into the dusty space above and squinted around.

"... I don't see any presents up here, man. Just old junk."