BH Fanfic: Aftermath ch 11-15 (over 15's only)

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Eleven

Pratchett put his shoulder against the door in the basement and gave it a hard push. It didn't move so he pulled instead. The door swung open on its hinges and crashed against the wall. He raised an eyebrow – the door wasn't half as strong and secure as it looked. The room beyond was eight feet across and probably thirteen feet long. It stank of lyco musk and dead blood, vampire blood.

There was a tiny barred window high up to the left of the back wall. Pale moonlight streamed through it lending eerie shadow to the scene. There were traces of blood on the floor that was the scent he has picked up. Pratchett grunted. This was definitely the right place. He looked around and spotted something dark just between two slivers of moonlight. He crossed the room and looked beside the doorway. A discarded, shredded demin fabric was rumpled, wadded against the wall thanks to the leading edge of the door. He picked it up and smelt werewolf all over it immediately. However, it wasn't this which caught his attention but the soft clatter of plastic on concrete. A mobile phone had fallen from the pocket and he stooped to retrieve it. Surprisingly, the cracked screen lit up when he opened it. Even more surprisingly, as he began to look through the information held within, the phone rang.

Curiously, he touched the answer button and put the damaged handset to his ear. A female voice came though, crackling and tinny due to a failing signal so far inside the building but audible enough. “George, are you there?.” She paused, waiting for a response. When none was forthcoming, she forged on. “Okay, I'm sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to be like that.” she paused. “But you were right. I really don't want to, to be alone. If its not too late, could you, um, could you come over? I wan....” Pratchett was smiling as he pulled the handset away from his ear and hit the 'end call' button. He had heard more than enough. He had all the evidence he needed.

Herrick's jacket was torn, these jeans were shredded and stank of lyco, the phone obviously belonged to Mitchells pet since it was called George. Mitchell had let his wolf do the work for him. The deal was Mitchell and Herrick face each other alone. His suspicions had been correct. Mitchell had lied.

*****

Nina faltered. “...I wanted to...” She heard a dull buzz from the other end. George had hung up on her without saying a word. She replaced the receiver of her phone slowly with a shaky hand. What had happened? She knew she'd hurt his feelings before but how could he just blank her like that. He'd done this to her, told her all about it and now cut her dead?! Her guilt gained a few companion emotions, namely resentment, anger and fear. She had half a mind to get her coat and go over there, give him a piece of her mind.

Nina had actually made her mind up to do just that when something she had been told came back to her. George had warned that vampires took the chance to attack any lone werewolf they came across and that she should be careful, especially at night when the vampires were at their strongest.

Balling the feelings up and hanging her coat back on the rack, she checked the locks on the doors carefully. She would see him tomorrow, at the hospital and give him a piece of her mind. Simmering with mixed emotions, she went to bed.

*****

“He asleep already?” Mitchell asked, looking up from pouring the soup into a bowl as Annie re-entered the kitchen. A small amount slopped over the side into the worktop in his distraction. Annie it pointed out with one slender finger and Mitchell almost scalded himself putting the half-full pan back on the stove.

“No, no, he's still in the shower. I thought I'd make a cup of tea while he finishes.” She replied, moving to the sink to get a damp cloth to clean up the spillage.

Mitchell settled into eating his soup with a little buttered bread. “Are you alright?” Annie finally asked as she poured water into the cup and sloshed the teabag around slowly.

“Yeah.” Mitchell answered with a smile, licking some of the tasty but hot liquid from his lips. “Yeah, I'm okay.”

“How's your chest now?”

Candidly, Mitchell told her. “It still aches a bit but I think its nearly healed.” He looked away and said no more. Annie tried to give a reassuring smile, but Mitchell was lost in thought again so she didn't want to disturb him. Instead, she finished making the hot beverage and disappeared upstairs to take it to George.

Mitchell ate on auto-pilot, scooping the chunky vegetable soup into his mouth without really tasting it. He was lost in the knowledge of just how he had come to be healed, that memory was fresh and acutely painful, infinitely more so than the injury itself could ever have been. Annie had inadvertently reminded him just as he had found something else to focus on. Josie, his sweetheart. She was now dead, gone from this world and all its ills, and he just kept on living, never aging or changing, simply existing. He had been thinking a lot about this, that was why he had thrown himself into the plan of living among humanity. It was why he had encouraged a reluctant George to do the same. His given reason, the stability which would help him stop killing, was also true, and a reason he knew would appeal to his friend, but put simply, Mitchell wanted desperately to be part of society because he could no longer stand having no-one. It was why he'd slipped and returned to his own kind for a while. Humanity was not the refuge he had hoped but neither, too, were the vampires. Right now, he was lost. He was neither a part of the vampire world, nor the human one. He was an outcast.

*****

Upstairs, all was quiet. Annie could hear nothing as she put her ear to George's bedroom door. Hesitantly, she rapped her knuckles twice on the wood. A muffled voice from inside told her to come in. She opened the door and the light from the landing lit a growing rectangle in the otherwise black room. Annie flinched as she thought she saw two silvery eyes looking at her. The bedside light came on so quickly though, that she was certain she'd imagined it. George was laid on his back, on arm stretched above his head touching the switch on the lamp.

“I brought you some tea. I didn't think you'd be, well, asleep so soon.” Annie began apologetically. George, clad in a loose, grey sleeveless t-shirt, rolled on his side and sat up beneath his covers. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards slightly as he gratefully took the mug from her and pressed his back against the wall.

“Thanks.” He took a sip and let out a low, pleasurable groan. “You know, these are so much better hot.” Annie had to smile. Even now he was having a gentle dig at her, or at least trying to. Annie dithered, not sure how to approach the conversation. She perched sideways on the edge of the bed, George's eyes watching her intently. “Mitchell's told you then.” He said, correctly intuiting her silence.

“Yes. I'm, I'm so sorry. For everything.”

The cup was lowered to his lap, where it sat in the thickest part of the covers. “Probably not half as sorry as I am.”

“Are you okay?”

“Define okay.” George replied drily, then he nodded and made his tone more conversational. “I'm not sure how things could have gone any worse last night. Nothing went to plan.” He lamented.

“What was your plan exactly?” Annie had to ask. Her realisation earlier today had been burrowing into her, the same way Mitchell's decision had hit her the evening before that. George shook his head but didn't attempt to speak. He wasn't going to tell her but he had a feeling she already knew. “I'm sorry for yesterday, too.”

George had just taken another sip of his drink and now regarded her quizzically. “Yesterday?”

“I was so hard on you. That could have, it could have been the last time we ever saw each other and I was just so angry that you'd leave us. I didn't know that you were going to do what you did.” She sounded tortured with guilt.

A dawning realisation raised George's features as Annie fumbled for the right words to explain herself. He found himself smiling a little. “Hey, I thought I was the one with the guilt complex.” He half-joked then waved a hand. “Its already forgotten.” Annie looked up. “You thought I was running away and leaving you and Mitchell behind so I don't blame you.”

“If we... if we hadn't realised what was going on, what would you have done?”

“Died, probably.” This was said with resignation. “If Herrick didn't kill me before I could change, the other vampires would have found me asleep in there in the morning and finished me off as I came out.” The reply was quiet but extremely matter-of-fact, almost calm, which was so unlike the George she knew that Annie had to look at him hard.

The ghost's voice cracked. “So you planned it? You never expected to come back to us, did you?”

George rested his head back against the wall. In the shadow from the lamp, she could see how much older his eyes were than they had seemed just yesterday. “I don't know what I expected. But bad luck follows me around, it always has. I couldn't stand for anyone else to have to suffer because of me. Not you or Mitchell. Not...” He swallowed. “Nina.” He took a moment to compose himself. “But I, I, I hoped that I could've. Come home, I mean.” The laugh he gave after this was hollow, humourless. “Pandora was right.”

Annie wasn't sure what he meant. “What?”

He looked at Annie and shrugged, taking a drink before speaking. “It just something I told Mitchell once. He disagreed with me but all this, it just, just... it proves it to me.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”

George licked his lips, clearly unsure of how to explain it. “Do you remember the... the story of Pandora?” Annie stayed silent, not sure where this was going. Taking it that she didn't know the tale, George carried on talking, slowly and tiredly. "According to the Greek legends, Pandora was the first woman and all the Gods helped create her by giving her powers and gifts contained in a jar. She was entrusted with the guardianship of it with only one condition. She should never open it."

"Jar? I thought it was a box." Annie interrupted.

"A modern mistranslation of the ancient Greek texts. I did a thesis on the Greek philosophers and storytellers, once." George almost smiled, but his eyes remained focussed on Annie as he continued. "Pandora was curious and opened the jar which held all the evils of the world."

"All that was left in the box... um, the jar, was hope." She added, remembering that part of the story and trying to figure out why he was telling her all this.

George nodded. "I asked Mitchell, what if hope is the worst of all the ills? The one that is better able to destroy a man than anything?" He stopped, looked away. “I started to let myself hope there was something, someone that could... Sorry, I'm just knackered.” He dismissed his own thoughts out of hand, his cheeks flushed as if he was ashamed.

“Someone you could be with who can cope with all of this?” Annie finished for him. George nodded then took a long drink of his tea. “Maybe you have.”

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Twelve

The world outside was grey and soaked with the rain that was still falling. The rain bouncing on the roof beat a steady, constant rhythm of fluctuating intensity. But that wasn't what roused Annie from her doze. She uncurled from her chair because she could smell something cooking and headed downstairs. The crackling sound of bacon in the two frying pans was unexpected, but as unexpected was seeing a quite content George cooking it. He was fully and casually dressed in blue jeans and a blue checked shirt with the sleeves rolled to the elbow. The heat from the stove prompted this, apparently. He was, at present, busily shifting the bacon around the pan to ensure even browning. Set out on the worktop were six slices of bread with brown sauce already spread neatly to the edges across them.

“Morning.” Annie greeted cheerily.

George turned. “Morning.” He managed to say before yelping as the bacon began to spit fat. Annie laughed.

“Perhaps you should roll your sleeves down.” She suggested. Stepping back with a little squeak, George agreed and quickly complied. He returned to the stove, turned off the heat and lifted the bacon, slice by slice from pan to bread. Annie recalled asking him once whether eating bacon was against his religion and he'd ruefully admitted he wasn't orthodox anymore, not since the “accident”. Instead she slid into one of the chairs and made herself comfortable, just watching her friend at work. George set the pans to cool toward the back of the stove and put the bread lids on his bacon before cutting them in half and placing them on an already prepared plate. The knife was put straight into the sink for washing. He brought the plate to the table and settled down to his breakfast.

“How are you feeling?” Annie asked just as he took a big bite of his first sandwich. George shot her a look that berated her for her timing and chewed furiously before swallowing.

“Better. And thanks. You helped me put things in perspective.” He gave her a gentle, genuine smile. Annie all but beamed even as she protested. George nodded and took another bite of his breakfast, this time chewing more slowly and enjoying his first real bite to eat in more than a day and a half. As he did so, Annie got to her feet and headed to the kettle.

By the time Mitchell arrived downstairs a mere ten minutes later, Annie had efficiently covered all surfaces in cups of tea, coffee and hot chocolate and was sitting chatting with George. Both greeted him with surprising enthusiasm before resuming their conversation about, of all things, pigs. Mitchell took to hunting through the various cups for one that resembled coffee before taking one and sat down at the table.

George protested.“But they're filthy. They're always covered in mud.”

“That mud keeps them cool. Thats what makes them look unclean. I actually like them.”

“So what you're saying is that pigs are cool?” George paused, half of his last sandwich halfway to his mouth.

“I suppose I am, yeah.”

“God, my mother would've cuffed me around the head for even thinking anything like that.” He grinned. “But I do like bacon so I suppose she's have me bang to rights on that.”

“She's a bit strict then, eh?”

George rolled his eyes, pausing with the half eaten butty halfway to his mouth. “A bit? Strict doesn't even come into it. When we were kids, she made us do a full hour of Torah studying a night or we went to bed with no supper. Forget homework, studying first.” The smile faded slightly.

Taking advantage of the distraction as well as shrewdly offsetting a possible downturn in the conversation concerning the families they'd all lost, Mitchell leaned across the table and snatched up the last half sandwich. Even as he was gobbling it up, the hungry werewolf protested. “Hey! Did you see that?” George squealed, appealing to Annie. “I slaved over hot pans for these, I'll have you know. Tell him, Annie.” There was a teasing note in George's voice, one Mitchell had rarely heard since he'd known him. There was no sharp edge of sarcasm, it was almost playful.

Mitchell swallowed quickly, offering a cheeky but distinctly unapologetic grin. “Hey, you and Annie were busy talking and that poor bacon sandwich was getting lonely. And besides, we've got to get ready for work.” George flicked his wrist to look at his watch. He got up from the table as if scalded and took the plate to the sink while stuffing the last part of his breakfast into his mouth. Annie shrugged at Mitchell. “I only said we need to get ready, we're not late yet.” Mitchell added.

As he quickly rinsed the plate and knife under the hot tap, squirting washing up liquid directly onto the plate then rubbing with a scouring cloth before running the cloth down the blade carefully. He turned the tap off, having finished his last mouthful of breakfast. “I want to get in early. Nina's meant to be on shift later and I want to go past her house to make sure she's okay on the way.” He turned. “If thats alright.” He added hopefully.

Mitchell nodded. “Yeah, we could do that easily.” He rose to his feet in a single movement and drained the cup of cool coffee. “But we're going in the car, its tipping it down outside.” The boys both said see you later to Annie and gathered up their things, both putting their jackets on, Mitchell taking the car keys from the pottery dish on the table by the door as George slung his bag onto his shoulder and paused. “I better call her first.” He murmured, patting his pockets down. He put the bag down and rooted through the contents. “Um, one minute.” He said holding up a finger then scampering up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Annie, who was standing in the kitchen doorway ready to wave them off, frowned. Mitchell shrugged as a vague thumping noise carried from upstairs.

“Good morning, you two.” A familiar voice greeted. Michael was once again standing in the living room. Gone was his denim jacket and instead he wore a strange, tassled leather jacket which ended at the hips.

“Morning!” Annie hurried over to greet him.

“Hi. It seems like you're never away these days.” Mitchell commented, flicking a suspicious look in Annie's direction.

“Oh, Annie said I could come over and see her any time, John. Its alright, isn't it?” He asked in a gratingly strident manner despite trying to sound reasonable. It was partly this which Mitchell had begun to hate about the ghost.

“You changed your jacket? I've love to know how to do that. There's only so long you can wear the same t-shirt and cardigan ensemble before you just want to scream.” Annie interrupted before the Mitchell could begin bristling again as he had last night.

“I can teach you if you want.” Michael offered. “I'd like you to be able to wear what you want to.”

“I'd love that! Thankyou.”

At that point George came clattering down the stairs. “You'd love what?” George asked, looking between his friends but never even pausing upon Michael.

“Oh nothing. Did you find what you were looking for?”

The ghost and the werewolf spoke over each other. “Find what?” Michael asked as George said “I can't remember where I left my phone.”

“Never mind, it'll turn up eventually.” George added, picking up his bag again and reaching for the door. Again Mitchell and Annie shared a questioning look as the boys left for work. “See you later, Annie.”

“Yeah, see you tonight.” She replied as Mitchell gave her a cautionary glance. He then waved and disappeared outside. She vaguely heard George urging Mitchell to hurry up and open up the car as the front door swung closed and clicked.

“I don't think John likes me very much.”

“We... we've had a few problems with new people so he's probably just wary.” Annie explained. “It'd be better if you knock on the door to come in, y'know, instead of just appearing.”

“Of course. You die, you forget your manners.”

Annie laughed. “Don't worry about it. But tell me more about how to change my clothes.” She encouraged, sitting down on the sofa and patting the seat next to her.

*****

George rapped on the door again. Rain dripped down his face, obscuring his glasses and drenching his shirt collar which was peeking out from his jacket. On the other side of the road, Mitchell's car idled noisily. Even as he tried knocking for the third time, he knew Nina either wasn't there or was still upset with him. Determined not to show his disappointment, he turned and descended the steps, getting back to the car just as the rain was joined by a rumble of thunder. He slid quickly into the passenger seat.

“Maybe she went to work already. Weather like this, its gonna be busy.” Mitchell suggested by way of consolation.

“Yeah. You're probably right.” George agreed, a little too readily. “Speaking of which, we should probably be getting on.” Mitchell put the car in gear and set off for the hospital. As the rain redoubled its effort to drown the entire town, neither Mitchell nor George noticed a battered yellow car pull out from a line of parked cars, flick on its lights and follow them.

*****

They were standing by their lockers fifteen minutes later, George drying his head with a towel and Mitchell pulling on the dry cleaner's uniform he kept in his locker. Mitchell nudged George and pointed. George peeked out from beneath the towel to see Nina standing talking ot Dr Newman in the corridor. “See, she did set off early.”

George dropped the towel over his bag, stuffed it inside his locker and closed the door. “Wish me luck.” He said and headed toward Nina just as she parted ways from Dr Newman who stalked off back toward accident and emergency. “Nina?”

As he approached, something in her demeanour made him nervous. “Oh, and now he decides to speak to me.” She snarled as she turned to face him. She looked absolutely livid “Aren't I the lucky one?” Having no idea what he'd done, George said nothing and tried to keep out of range of her angry gesticulations. “You tell me you're going to be there for me, but when I ring you up, asking for help, you just, what? Decide that I'm too much trouble?” She huffed.

“You rang me? When?” He asked.

“Oh you know full well when. I rang your mobile at ten and you just hung up on me!” Her anger was ebbing. “I needed you and you just...”

“But I don't have my mobile.” George interrupted. “I don't know where it is.”

Nina stopped. “What?” She looked down then back at George's face. “And when, when did you lose it?”

“I don't know.” He paused, “Oh wait. S**t. I put it in my back pocket when I was posting the letter into your locker. I, I don't think I took it back out anywhere.” He didn't sound sure.

“But someone answered.” She retorted, but there was less anger and more curiosity to her manner this time.

“Nina, I swear, it wasn't me.” George was so sincere that she believed him. “Maybe it fell out somewhere in the hospital and someone found it. I'll go and see lost and found later. Why did, did you need me?” He asked, switching from fussily sensible to immensely concerned about her. “Can... can I help now?” He reached out to touch her arm but thought better of it, letting his hand hover. He still really wasn't sure where he stood with her. “Is, is there something I can, I can do? Anything?”

His grey-blue eyes searched her brown ones for an answer and Nina saw a flash of disappointment as she moved back a pace.

From his place by the lockers, Mitchell saw Nina step move away slightly. It wasn't a good sign. George's shoulders sagged and he too took a step away and dropped his arm to his side.

“Well... its not important right now.” She replied quietly. George nodded slowly and made as if to turn away. Nina, however, wasn't done. She suddenly moved, pushing George back agains the wall hard enough to bump the back of his head. She gave him a deep, passionate kiss then pulled back. “But we'll talk about it when you come over tonight, right?”

George looked dazed as he nodded again, a slight silly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He licked his lips, savouring the taste, before replying. “Okay.” He breathed, hopelessly compliant. Then, in a second, Nina was gone. It took a moment for George to move, though the grin spread and an air of self-satisfaction radiated from him. Mitchell found himself smiling in return as George stumbled toward him, rubbing the back of his head. “She wants to see me tonight.” He informed Mitchell, unable to wipe the lopsided smile from his face.

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Thirteen

Michael and Annie sat in the kitchen, at the table. Annie clasped her hands delighted in front of her and laughed as Michael told her the tale of a ghost he once met who was forever forgetting his state and would disappear through walls unexpectedly.

“But anyway, the point I was making is that there's willpower and there's Willpower.” Michael continued. “He, as I say, had none of it.” He laughed. “But thats what it takes to change from this...” He indicated his attire, “...to this.” Before her eyes, the leather jacket faded, lightened and became the denim jacket he wore. He leaned forward and spoke in a quite enthusiastic conspirators whisper. “It's so boring always being in the same clothes all the time.”

Annie rolled her eyes, throughly charmed. “I know.”

“You do change, you know. A little here and there. But for the main, you're stuck, trapped. You know what traps you, don't you?” Annie shook her head quickly. “You. You're the one stopping you.” He smiled as Annie looked bemused. “Look, the only reason you can't change things is that you think you can't. You cling to things so you can't move on.”

“So you're saying if I concentrate hard enough, I can change my clothes?”

“Your clothes, your hair. Yourself. But you have to be set free first. You have to learn to not be reliant on, on places, things, people.” Annie was still slightly struggling with the notion. She understood it well enough, but she didn't like the implications of it. “Anyway, “ Michael continued, seemingly oblivious to her reluctance, “That is all down to you. It takes practice but its worth it.”

He looked her over. “You really are special though. Kind. And pretty.” He brushed her cheek with the back of his hand. “Thats why I want to help you. Free you.” He used his fingers to lift her chin.

“But I am free.” Annie replied, somewhat taken aback that he thought she was otherwise.

Michael smiled. “Of course you are, but there are levels of freedom. I mean, what if you could travel wherever you choose, whenever you choose? Its so much better when you can just imagine a place and go straight to it. You can't do that now, can you?”

“I'm... I'm starting to. I moved all the way from the hospital to here and back without trying.” She said proudly.

“But how about being able to go anywhere in the world? Anywhere your heart desires? Wouldn't that be better?” Michael suggested. “Its all a matter of your willpower but you have to be completely free.”

Despite the unsettling thought of what he might mean by complete freedom, Annie was intrigued by the idea of having such a useful power. She could use that to help look after the boys. “Are you completely free?” She asked. “Can you travel where you choose?”

Michael looked sheepish. “Almost. I can't... cross over.” He lamented. Annie felt a pang of sympathy for him. “But I can help you use your power, if you'll let me.”

“What can we try first? Annie asked, accepting the invitation.

*****

Mitchell stopped mopping as he sensed the presence of other vampires. He heard voices he recognised and setting aside his sudden desire to confront them for their disobedience, instead he took a more tactful line and listened. As they walked along the corridor, he could clearly hear Marco and Pratchett talking.

“They couldn't find the lyco. Bloody thing could have roamed for miles.” Marco complained, snarling with hatred. “I was lookin' forward to rippin' its head off, too, an' watchin' it bleed to death.” He genuinely lamented this missed opportunity.

Pratchett's thick accent betrayed his annoyance despite his even tone. “Marco, how have you survived this long being the idiot that you are, eh? That f**king lyco wasn't in the woods. Herrick was wrong about that. 'E was wrong about a lot of things.”

There was a silence in which Mitchell could accurately picture Marco's confused expression. But it didn't take away from the weight of what he had just overheard. As the voices drew closer Michell set aside his mop and intercepted the two of them, moving from his place in one corridor to stand before them in another.

“Mitchell.” Pratchett greeted coldly.

“Mitchell!” Marco was surprised, reinforcing the belief that he was, indeed, an imbecile.

“I thought I made it clear that none of you were to come here.” Mitchell snarled, forgoing the niceties of so much as a greeting. “I told you the hospital is off limits.”

Pratchett primly straightened the cuffs of his dark suit, unconcerned. “You see, we'd have all agreed to that, so we would, if you had a claim on leadership of the coterie.” His dark eyes met Mitchell's and there was no veiling of the threat within them. “But you don't.”

“I killed Herrick so I now run this operation.” Mitchell snapped back, on no mood for games.

“No, you didn't, and no you don't. You see, I know what really happened. You knew you couldn't beat him so you sent your pet in instead.” Pratchett stared, challenging Mitchell to deny it. He remained silent. “That lyco of yours has overstepped a mark and you let it. You're both marked. I run this coterie now and you will do what I say, when I tell you to do it.”

Mitchell was still standing proud, but his demeanour was less confident. “And if I don't?”

Pratchett moved in closer, so close that Mitchell could smell the fresh blood on his breath. The scent both repulsed and tempted him. “Well, if you don't, I'm sure we can find ways to amuse ourselves. Maybe we can toy with your little ghost. She could be made to do whatever we choose – Nana will see to that. And we can have our fun with your pet lyco. They make good sport, but I'm sure you remember the fun we used to have at their expense, old friend.” The smile the large vampire gave was unpleasant.

“Lyco baiting.” Marco chuckled. “Can we, Mr Pratchett? I miss that.”

Mitchell was horrified, not least by the memories of the lyco-baiting he has been involved in when he was a young vampire. Pratchett could see his threats had hit home. “Or, if you play the good little vampire we might well be inclined to leave them be. I'm not Herrick. I'm not prone to messianism or broken promises. You keep your side of the bargain and we will keep ours. Agreed?”

Mitchell hesitated. Pratchett was smart and vicious in equal measure, it was why aside from Mitchell, Herrick had kept him close. But unlike Herrick, Mitchell had never known Matthew Pratchett break his word. There was always a first time, however. “And you won't come after Annie or George? They'll be safe from all the coterie?” He asked, just to clarify the terms.

“No intimidation or attacks. They'll be left to live in peace.” Pratchett confirmed.

“Okay. What is it you want me to do?”

Pratchett gave his most charming smile. “Tonight, at the club. We have a meeting. There you will tell all the vampires who the new head of the coterie is and exactlywhy.” Mitchell understood the hidden meaning. This was Pratchett's way of discrediting him, of completely destroying the impressive legacy of John Mitchell among his fellow vampires, as well as establishing himself as head of the Bristol branch. The large vampire began to walk away, Marco trotting at his heels like a well-trained puppy, when he abruptly stopped and turned back. “And I think your pet is missing this. Tell it to be careful what traces it leaves next time.” He sneered, digging into the inside jacket pocket and throwing a dark object in Mitchell's direction. He caught the projectile and found it to be George's very badly damaged mobile. When he looked up, Pratchett and Marco were gone, leaving him standing alone.

*****

“George!” Mitchell spotted his friend at the far end of the corridor. He paused in pushing an trolley-load of dirty bed linen down toward the laundry room and looked up. He smiled warmly and waited for Mitchell to catch him up.

“Hi.” He greeted cheerfully, no doubt still on a high from this morning.

“Someone's happy.” Mitchell commented. George nodded and smiled broadly. “Need a lift home? Its still pretty dismal out there.” Mitchell offered. This was, of course, one of his reasons he had, but the other, bigger reason was that he wasn't sure if the other vampires would listen to Pratchett. He wanted to be sure his friends were safe. He had, in his break times, already phoned home but Annie was not there at any one of them. She was possibly out with Michael and though he had a mistrust of the other ghost, he wasn't a vampire so Annie was probably okay. Still, he was concerned. So concerned in fact, that he missed what George has said. “Sorry?” Mitchell apologised.

“I said, you go. I've only got half an hour of shift left and then I'm going to wait for Nina to finish and we're going back to hers.” George repeated.

Mitchell nodded. “Do you want me to wait and give you both a ride?”

“Why are you so keen on the whole giving a lift thing?” George eyed his suspiciously. “What's happened?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Mitchell lied. “I just want you make sure you two are okay. Oh, speaking of which, I found you phone.” He offered the damaged handset to George who groaned as he took it.

“Ohhh, how did that happen?” He moaned softly. “Where was it?”

Mitchell hadn't thought to ask Pratchett where he got it, the implication of him simply having it in his possession was enough. “Someone handed it in.”

“At lost and found? I asked there earlier but they didn't have it.”

Mitchell hated having to lie to his friend, even if to was to protect him. “Someone... must have handed it in later.”

“Uh, I suppose so.” George didn't sound convinced. “Thanks. And its okay, really. Nina has her car.”

This heartened Mitchell a little and he patted George's shoulder. “Just be careful, alright? See you at home.” George nodded and Mitchell set off back toward the lockers. George watched him leave, really not liking how the vampire and Annie were both fussing but grateful that he had them watching is back all the same. But if they knew what he really thought about having killed someone, he figured they really would worry. With a resigned sigh, George resumed wheeling the green canvas cart to the laundry room.

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Fourteen

Three weeks had passed since the night that Pratchett had told Mitchell to come to the club. That had been a less painful affair than he'd anticipated, in all honesty. Under Herrick's handling, Mitchell would have been belittled and used as a trophy raising Herrick's status within the coterie. However, Pratchett handled it in a far more civil manner, bringing Mitchell to the centre of the huddle and having him give his confessions uninterrupted. Pratchett, with an air of authority, then claimed the coterie and laid down the rules that unless he gave the word, Mitchell and his friends – no condescending references to his pet or a corpse here – were to be left alone. Any vampire caught defying this order would be cast from the protection of the coterie.

As for Mitchell himself, Pratchett decreed that he, Mitchell, would from now on be excluded from the coterie and would be allowed no further access to these meetings. This really didn't worry Mitchell in the slightest, but when Pratchett had gone on to say that similarly, he was not permitted to interfere with the actions of any of the vampires still protected by the group. The latter concerned him but to protect his friends, he'd have to agree. Aloud, Mitchell had consented then he made his way through the thronging masses to leave. However, as he passed by the new Master of the Coterie, Pratchett caught him by the arm and pulled him close. “Remember your promise, any time, anything, and I'll remember mine.” He whispered before pushing Mitchell away. For his part, the Irish vampire nodded his understanding but said nothing.

So now, Mitchell was completely free of the Bristol vampires and their ways. He was free to make himself the man that he wanted to be and live mostly without fear. The past few weeks had been about the calmest any of them had experienced in months.

Annie and Michael had grown quite close, she spent every other day with him. Despite being still wary of Michael, Mitchell couldn't help but take some comfort out of her contentment. She laughed more readily and whatever it was that she and Michael had been up to which had resulted in fewer mugs of tea and coffee strewn about the house.

As for George, neither of them had seen him around the house much lately. He and Nina were spending a lot of time together which was, of course, welcome and necessary. He'd not come home the night Nina had invited him over – it was the early afternoon when he finally came home and he seemed happy. He'd brought home a chippy dinner and he and Mitchell had eaten fish and chips at the kitchen table while Annie pumped him for information. She was genuinely delighted when he added that Nina had made it clear she wasn't going to let this get in the way of their relationship. She clasped her hands and laughed in excitement, eliciting a fond grin from George. Even the still present smattering of cups of tea and coffee around the house hadn't caused the usual quite vocal protests from George that they usually did.

So, three weeks on, everything had been calm. As he reclined on the sofa – once more alone in the house with Annie out on her travels with Michael – slightly later than normal but she was a big girl - and George taking a trip to the pictures with Nina, Mitchell rested himself and took stock of the way things were now.

Pratchett, though having threatened to have Mitchell performing menial tasks for him, had so far not been in contact. Mitchell knew the other vampire would, at some point, call him in, but right now he was getting used to relative normalcy again. The small pleasures to be had when the three of them, or sometimes four when Nina came calling, were together in the living room, watching TV, eating junk food and generally just bumping along.

There were always going to be the usual little spats between Annie and George, though these seemed less serious than before. It was like both were making an effort having realised what a good thing they really had and what they had been on the verge of losing forever. Mitchell recalled telling Annie once that time was like those snowstorm things. Events came and went, stirring things up as they did and leaving those in its wake changed but settled once more. As Mitchell took a drink of the coffee he had rested on his chest as he lay on the couch, he sincerely hoped the time of settling would last.

*****

It was a cold, dark and slightly icy night. Or it would be later. Right now, rain was falling but they had rather more of a thicker appearance, as if interlaced with snow. Even still, both George and Nina, as they walked back to the House, found their gazes drawn skyward now and then. Despite the waxing moon being invisible behind the cloud cover, both felt it there and sensed the pregnant power it held.

The moment was broken milliseconds later as car headlights passed over them. The yellowish-white glow showed up the icy droplets of rain as sparkling diamonds falling to earth as it continued around the corner. Nina huddled a little closer to George, her arm linked through his and their hands twines together. Nina had gloves, George did not so his fingers were turning quite a vivid shade of red right now. “Next time, I choose the film.” George told Nina firmly.

Nina expressed a mock-outrage at his suggestion, insisting that she wasn't to know what kind of film it was. “Come on, even you admitted it sounded quite good from the review in the paper.”

“Did it occur to you that the paper's get something back for making the weeks cinema-viewing sound good? They'd tell us Schindler's List is a light-hearted fairy-tale romance if they thought we'd pay to see it.” George countered, teasingly.

“May I remind you of one thing, my boyfriend. The last one you chose was....” She began. Nina didn't get to finish the thought as all of a sudden she and George were grabbed bodily and thrown up back up against the wall in a small alley near The Oxford public house. The impact with unforgiving pebble-dashed wall hurt her back but she bit back a cry of pain. George grunted with the force then both looked toward their attackers. Without thinking, George moved slightly ahead of Nina as the two young men and one woman crowded closer but spread far enough apart so the open ends of the small, dark alley were off limits.

“What do we have here?” The apparent leader of the group teased, stalking a few steps closer. George seemed to stiffen in recognition but Nina had no idea why. “Two lycos? That bloody Mitchell seems to have made all the filthy little animals think its okay to come to our city.” He moved closer still but George stood his ground despite shaking a little. Nina realised – they used the term lyco, and George has said vampires were the only ones to use that term. She was about to ask, to make sure, but she sensed the coiled tension in her boyfriend – the power coming off in waves. He was trembling with the pressure as much as any kind of anxiety.

“Awww, look. The dog's frightened. And his little b*tch, look at her. She has no idea what's coming.” The lead vampire smirked and turned his intense, blue-eyed gaze to George. “But you do, dontcha? Look at you, so weak – bet you get several beatings a week. Or you should. We can arrange it, can't we boys?” He laughed, loud, brash and confident. He stopped laughing when George suddenly lunged forward and gave him an almighty shove backwards, sending almost over the low metal barriers behind.

In films, the heroes of the piece would have taken to their heels and outrun their attackers. But this, this was real life and instead of conveniently backing off, the other two ignored their fellow vampire and closed ranks, blocking the newly opened escape route with ease, in an instant changing from nice and normal to black eyes and wicked fangs. The sight was horrifying. Nina, who had never seen a vampire before, not one that intended to do her harm, that is, gasped involuntarily. She wasn't weak, not by any stretch of the imagination, but the creatures before them had her terrified. It was taking all her willpower to simply stay on the spot. She'd be unable to run, even if she had the inkling to do so. Instead, instinctively, she shrank back.

“This one's going to put up a struggle.” The female vampire, the one to the left hand side and closest to Nina, hissed through his fangs. “I hate it when they just die without so much as a whimper.” He sneered, grinning at the prospect.

The vampire in the ground picked himself up and shoved his way through. He kept on travelling, one arm coming up to meet George's throat before propelling him backwards and slamming his head hard against the grey pebbledashing. Nina shifted to one side and the female grabbed her arm, forcing it so hard up her back, she felt the joints crack. She screamed and struggled, only to have the vampire grip tighter and, with her free hand, grab her by her jaw. Terrified, she still tried to shake her head, to get free of the vampire's grasp, but she was far too strong.

George, meanwhile, was pushing ineffectually at the vampire with one hand and clawing at the hand that choked him with the other. His throat felt as if it were in a vice, but instead of being held in place, the vampire seemed to be trying to crush his windpipe. He was stunned and half lifted off the ground, his vision was blurred and was beginning to grow black at the edges since the scant breath he could draw wasn't enough. He rasped painfully as he desperately treid to suck in air. His light eyes rolled toward Nina and fear shone brightly as he saw her predicament. He couldn't help her. He pushed some more with his free hand then let his other hand free and tried getting to the vampire's face, to scratch to do something. But he kept his eyes fixed on Nina even as his vision began to fade a little more.

“Shiiiiit, put him down, man!” The third vampire suddenly burst out. “Do it!” He commanded when the first vampire didn't move immediately. The hand released and George had the odd sensation of sinking down the wall, though he couldn't feel the rough stone scraping the skin as the wall snagged on first his jacket then his shirt, baring his flesh. His legs chose that moment to betray him and he crumpled to the pavement. Sucking in a great lungful of air, his head became both light and heavy all at once.

“What?!” The first vampire demanded in annoyance, turning but not before planting a frustrated boot on George's prone chest, pressing down so hard that his lungs were once more restricted and chips from the wall dug into his back again. In no state to cope right now, he took it, half lying down against the wall and leaning toward Nina. She was no longer struggling but staring at him with wide, fear and pain filled eyes. She was whimpering and tears strayed down her cheeks. George was powerless to help either her or himself.

“Thats Mitchell's wolf, Rick.”

“What?!” The vampire named Rick was having a hard time believing that.

“Mitchell's pet. Thats it. I saw it once, months back. Rick, they told us to leave it alone. Its under Pratchett's protection. We're gonna get kicked out for this.” The third vampire fretted, taking nervous steps all over the place as he spoke.

Rick turned back to George. “S'that right? You hang with Mitchell?” It was all George could do to look at his questioner and nod once. The boot restricting his chest was lifted but he found it had been the only thing holding him upright and he slid all the way to the floor this time. He panted, loading his lungs with as much air as he could, just like a freediver would. His blurred vision remained but the darkness at the edges faded to white.

“Oh fu*k, what do we do now?!” The third vampire wailed.

Rick backed off a few steps, jiggling one leg when he came to a stop as if it were a nervous tic. “Anyone finds out about this, we're cast out.”

“Would that be so bad?” The vampire holding Nina suggested, her surprisingly rough fingertips scratching on the werewolf's soft skin. She smelt terrible, the she-wolf musk almost as pungent as the male's. “We kill 'em and deny all knowledge, what's Pratchett gonna do? Can't prove a thing.”

“But, but, but, what about Mitchell? He'll do us in as soon as look at us. If we hurt 'im.”

“We know it was this little nutse that killed Herrick, not the great Mitchell. He's not a threat anymore. He's gone soft. Kill these two, kill him and fu*k it, if Pratchett doesn't like it, kill him too!” The female vampire crowed, twisting Nina's arm and causing her to cry out once more as the bones of her forearm grated together. Her scream echoed in the narrow confines.

“Someone's gonna hear that. We better get out of here.” The male vampires looked nervously toward the pub where, even now, people were stirring. The screams had filtered through the windows to the revellers inside.

The female vampire leaned close to Nina's ear as the young nurse tried to flinch away, expecting a bite at any moment. “Men are wimps no matter what your species, eh?” She purred. “Listen, honey. He might be protected by Mitchell's promise, but you aren't. Mitchell didn't have you on his list of things to save. You'd do well to remember that.” With a final laugh, right in Nina's ear, the female vampire threw Nina to the ground beside George, whom she gave a hard kick to the chest as she passed. The three vampires disappeared as people began to exit the pub to see what was wrong.

Coughing up a mouthful of blood, George crawled to Nina's side. She was half-sitting, half lying and sobbing with fear, pain and anger as she turned to him. He managed to stroke a hand down her back before his strength gave out. The darkness took him quickly and he was unconscious before his head hit the floor.

[Melissa Kane]

Chapter Fifteen

The front door opened and Annie came in, laughing happily then, upon seeing Mitchell, stopped laughing and turned to bid Michael goodnight. She knew how Mitchell felt about Michael but he couldn't possibly know what Michael was really like. Plus, she was more than four hours later home than she said she was going to be. It was nearly midnight and Mitchell had waited up for her. But still, she couldn't completely crush the rush of emotions as she looked back at Michael, standing there in a red shirt and grey jacket on the pavement outside. “Thankyou for tonight.” She gushed excitedly, gesturing at herself, clad not in grey, but in a pale pink, low cut necked blouse and black pants. She was showing a little flesh and felt like a million dollars. She honestly couldn't believe that she'd finally managed to change her appearance after two weeks of effort and concentration.

“The pleasure is all mine, as usual.” He brushed an imaginary hair from her temple and tilted his head. “You look divine. And you won't forget, will you?” He asked.

“No, I certainly won't.” She replied, finding herself gazed at him adoringly. Annie loved having someone around who not only completely understood her but who knew so much about how to improve her situation. Michael was completely charming but not in the sleazy way that that other werewolf, Tully, had been. He was confident and strong of mind, just like Mitchell yet sensitive and gentle like George was. He knew what was what, he was independent and he wanted to help her to be that way too. And, she discovered, the two of them had more in common than simply being dead. Their musical tastes were compatible, as were their interests and their respective outlooks on life, or should that be death? And, of course, it hurt nothing to have Michael as handsome as he was, too.

Either way, it wasn't a surprise that she and Michael had only tonight decided to begin dating for real. He was her boyfriend now. Boyfriend. She loved how that sounded in her head, thinking about Michael just gave her butterflies in the pit of her stomach. Until now, she only felt that way once before, in the moment when she and Mitchell kissed by accident in her room. Thinking of kisses, Annie leaned forward from the doorstep and gently brushed her lips against Michael's. He, in response, leaned forward into the kiss and the two lingers for a moment. The touch was cold but the sensation added warmth to the butterflies in her tummy. She pulled away regretfully and her apology to him showed in her eyes. They had discussed this, of course. It was better for Annie to tell her friends about her new boyfriend without him being there. She expected something of an explosive reaction from Mitchell. Michael had told her that he understood completely but that on Wednesday night, there was something special he wanted them to do.

“Well, goodnight then. And I'll see you Wednesday.” Michael smiled, gave her a little salute, their affectionate sign to each other, and made ot leave. Annie mirrored the gesture and stood on the doorstep to watch him walk around the corner and down the hill. With an irrational twinge of loss, she stepped inside and closed the door.

“Did'ya have a good night?” Mitchell asked, looking up from the TV interestedly. He seemed mildly surprised by her change of appearance and nodded approvingly.

“The best.” Annie flounced over to sit beside Mitchell and clasped her hands together near her throat in her glee. “Michael taught me how to do this. I'm not just stuck in the clothes I died in anymore. He's showing be how I can use the power I've gained from not leaving.”

“It makes you wonder how he knows all this stuff.” Mitchell murmured, causing Annie's brow to crease. Her happiness faded when she realised she ought to tell Mitchell right now.

“I have something to tell you.” She added, lowering her hands and biting her lip.

Mitchell's dark eyes, which had already been focussed on her, drawn as they were to a previously unseen cleavage, returned to her eyes and became curious but harder somehow. “About Michael?”

“Both of us. We're dating, Mitchell, and I... I think I love him.” Annie looked at her friend hopefully, somehow seeking his approval despite everything she'd learnt from Michael. She smiled in spite of her nerves, or perhaps because of them.

“When did this happen?” Mitchell asked, his tone careful and cool, but not as disapproving as it might have been.

Annie, for her part, had hoped for a rather less lukewarm reaction. She hoped that Mitchell would be as happy for her finding love with one of her own kind as he had been, as they both had been, for George to be in love with another werewolf. The simlie kind of stopped there since Michael had been a ghost for far longer than she had. Instead he seemed... disinterested. “We decided tonight to give it a try. We've been spending so much time together anyway so...”

Mitchell nodded. “Well, good on you. Both of you. I'm... happy that you're happy.” The words choked him even as he spoke them. He tried to put the best inflection into his voice that he could to hide the fact that he hated this new turn of events but he wasn't sure he entirely succeeded, even after all his long years.

They both stopped talking. Each thinking their own thoughts.”Oh, there, there was an ambulance down the road, near the Chinese takeaway.”

“Yeah? Hope its nothing serious.”

“Hope we don't end up getting the blame.” Annie added, mindful of the things that had happened around Bernie and Fleur.

Both of them jumped when the house phone began ringing. The moment broke and Mitchell got up. “Hello.” He greeted dully.

“Thank God, Mitchell. I didn't know if you'd be home.”

“Nina. Hi.” He greeted, his tone warmer already. Annie remained sitting on the sofa, disheartened as she listened to the call.

“Can you come to the hospital. Please? George and I were attacked when we were coming home.” She sounded calm but there was a slight tremor in the voice as she mentioned George.

“Oh Christ, are you both okay?”

“I.. I just need you to come. Can you come?” The tremor was getting worse. “Please?”

“Of course, I can be there in ten minutes. Where are you?”

“A&E. I've been treated but George...” She tailed off, her breath hitching and her voice close to cracking.

This alarmed him. “Okay, okay, just calm down and stay put. I'm on my way.” He put the phone down and turned, but Annie appeared at his side in a instant. She looked concerned.

“We have to get to the hospital. George and Nina have been attacked.” Mitchell looked worried but Annie could sense anger seething just below the surface. “It sounds bad.” His words were clipped and tense.

“What are we waiting for?” Annie and Mitchell were out of the door and into the car within seconds.

*****

Nina stood at the entrance to the Accident and Emergency, holding her broken arm across her body. She wasn't allowed to be in the room as they checked George over desite her expertise. Dr Newman had steered her gently away but assured her George was in safe hands and that she could sit in the waiting room and he would come and get her when they'd done. Nina hadn't been able to sit still. She was looking from face to face, her anxiety growing with every random cough or groan from the Monday night rush. She had gone to the phone and called Mitchell then gone to the door for some fresh air – not far enough away that she couldn't see when Dr Newman came back but far enough from people to feel safer. She needed someone stable right now because she didn't think she could cope with all of this. A tiny part of her began to understand why George was so keen to push her away. George.

The thought of him, lying there on the floor as the paramedics checked them both over, scared her. He had woken up in the ambulance, dazed and confused and breathing badly. He'd still managed to clutch at her hand before the medic settled him. The pain relief she'd been given since was helpful but it couldn't cure the worry that churned her stomach and the fear that clouded her mind. She heard someone coming up behind her and she cringed away to the side of the doorway, inside of course. It was an old lady with grey-white hair and a zimmer frame. She smiled toothlessly at Nina as she passed and went on her way and the young nurse cursed herself. Her heart was still pounding but she was kicking herself for being so nervous. They were in a hospital. Nothing could get to her here.

“Nina?” She almost screamed when she heard her name. Mitchell was standing behind her, with Annie at his side, as she turned and she let out a sob of relief. He saw her arm and the bruising on her jaw and neck. A strong rush of pity came over him. “Are you okay?” He asked, knowing she wasn't but also knowing she wouldn't admit it.

She nodded, desperately trying to control the emotions which were now threatening to overspill. She clamped her lips together tightly and Annie, who hadn't said a word, just moved in on her uninjured side and put her arm around Nina as a show of support. This single kind act broke the dam and Nina turned, sobbing onto Annie's shoulder. She held Nina gently, murmuring small platitudes and feeling the odd sensation of warm tears on her shoulder.

“Where's George, Nina?” Mitchell asked, peering over the new werewolf's shoulder and unable to find his other friend.

Nina straighted, wiping her eyes and wincing. Annie kept an arm around her. Controlling her breathing with an effort, Nina began to slip into nurse mode and Annie couldn't help but admire the woman. “They're still treating him. I think he, he might have a concussion, but he wasn't breathing so well. He, he might have a broken rib or two; he had, he had blood in his mouth. Punctured lung maybe.” She steadied her breathing and nodded. “I, I don't know what else.” There was a terrible loss in her eyes.

“Do you know who did this?” Mitchell asked as Annie began rubbing Nina's back comfortingly.

The nurse lowered her voice and looked around nervously before looking at her boyfriend's friends. “Just vampires.” Nina raised her chin and winced. “Two men and a woman. They attacked us then... stopped. They said something about, about a deal. That George is your pet and is protected? I don't understand.” She fixed her gaze on Mitchell, an intense look that demanded the truth. The strength of this woman was amazing. “They seemed scared by someone called... oh I can't remember the name. Pritchard?”

“Pratchett?” Mitchell enquired.

“Pratchett?!” Annie repeated, shocked.

“Pratchett.” Nina confirmed. “So you know him?”

“And you made another deal without telling us?” Annie contributed.

“Focus.” He seemed annoyed by her question. “I'm going to see if George is okay, Annie, you stay with Nina.” Mitchell moved off into the waiting room and to the A&E check in desk.

Annie was shaken but she'd have a word with Mitchell in private. Instead, she gathered the now shaking Nina to her, the smaller woman didn't protest, and led her to a quiet corner of the waiting room where they sat down. “He tried to defend me. He knew what was coming but he fought back anyway.” Nina looked at Annie. “I didn't do anything.”

“There's not much you can do against vampires. They're too strong.” Annie whispered. “Its not your fault. Its not anyone's.” She was looking at Mitchell's back as he sweet-talked the check-in desk receptionist.

Mitchell came back to them after a few minutes. He sat on the other side of Nina and looked immensely relieved. “They're patching him up and keeping him in overnight in case of a concussion, but he's going to be fine.”