Chapter 17 – It's Almost Here

“Uhhh…..oh,” he groaned, disoriented. The world felt like it was pivoting on its axis around him and for a moment he gripped the grass. Through this action, he ascertained he was lying on a lawn, chest down. There was a repetitive sound, sometimes varying between louder and longer, but it came again and again. With his free hand he gave his throbbing cheek a cursory touch, only to whine again. There was a familiar metallic taste in his mouth and the hand on his cheek moved to wipe the blood that was trickling down from in between his lips. Running his tongue along the inside of his teeth, he was relieved to find all were still accounted for. He surveyed the scene.

The first thing he noticed lay a few feet away from him. Andy, despite being tangled up in a net, was concentrating on something in the distance. Joe wasn’t conscious enough to think to check what was so important that prevented Andy from trying to escape his bonds. There were some fuzzy ‘people’ shapes a little further on from Andy and still that sound moved through his ears again and again. Joe finally noticed a broken stake gun a few feet away. Ever so carefully he crawled over to it, grasping a sharp stake and heading for Andy. When he finally reached Andy the fuzzy shapes were sharpening up to become his comrades and enemies, all motionless. Joe shook his head wondering how long he’d been unconscious, why he was outside, why no one was fighting but instead opting to stare at something Joe couldn’t see. Pete was blocking his view of whatever this thing was.

“Joe,” Andy jolted with surprise when he noticed Joe coming up behind him, though his voice was quiet. Joe set about cutting him out.

“What’s going on and why are you whispering?” Joe asked, matching Andy’s hushed tones.

“I thought you could tell me,” Andy replied, sitting up and throwing the ropes off. “I was in the gym and then everything went kind of dark, I heard this voice and then I was lying on the ground tied up but…a whole lot of bad shit happened just after I woke up so I couldn’t ask for help. Travis killed this Dandy but it wasn’t a good thing…I think his name was Ryan the one Brendon was supposed to dig and it’s like everyone…” Andy’s voice trailed off.

“What?” Joe asked, searching the disheartened looks on familiar faces now recognisable.

“It’s like we all remember how it is to lose someone,” Andy finished and then Joe really heard it.

That repetitive sound stirring the silence was cries.

*                                                 *                                                    *

Peace is a curious thing to be brought on by something as turbulent as death but, like the eye of a storm, Ryan had brought a lull. Minutes washed over those watching like hours, memories and feelings thick in the air. Brendon was still hunched over, head pressed against Ryan’s chest, arms wrapped protectively around him. It was only now that Patrick realized how important Ryan’s last act was. Ryan was the one who’d broken Brendon’s control over him. This Dandy, who looked a few years younger than him, had thrown his life away for Brendon, saving Pete and setting him free in the process. He felt another wave of grief flood his chest as he turned to Pete and whispered.

“He’s the one who let the Gym Class Heroes go, isn’t he?”

Pete’s gaze didn’t leave the two Dandies crouched a few feet away, expression cheerless. He looked strangely aged, the crow’s feet and bags under his eyes accentuated in the shadows. He too knew the gravity of Ryan’s sacrifice and for the first time the Clandestine recognised an ally they didn’t even realise they’d had.

“Yeah.”

Patrick’s shoulders slumped and he looked over the faces of his solemn comrades.

Gerard could feel the pain of his own lost loved ones burning in his chest as he listened to Brendon cry. His voice had not sounded so different that night and though he suspected Brendon had probably had a part to play in his family’s demise he couldn’t bring himself to feel hate or elation. He felt instead an odd sense of duty, as though he should shelter them until the most important moments had past. Goodbyes could last lifetimes contained in minutes and if anyone knew this Gerard did. Patrick’s gaze moved to Travis.

His hands were shoved deep in his pockets to hide the blood, more from himself than anyone else, and his dark eyes still scrutinized the dirt in front of him. Despite Ryan’s forgiveness, Travis felt a hole eat into his heart for the Dandy who’d never been unkind to him. It was the mostly small things that crept up to Travis and nagged at him now: their casual conversations; Ryan’s smiles a seemingly unnoticeable trait, but in the Dandy mansion were a welcome warmth; his positive effect on Brendon – all were now haunting Travis. He could never forget how Ryan saved his band either. Ryan had done all these favours for Travis and he had delivered Ryan to a slow and painful death. He pushed his hands deeper into his pockets, his blood feeling cold in his veins. Speechless apologies ran endlessly through his mind. He’d never been so rueful in his life.

Patrick’s eyes traced the shadows that had fallen across faces till another one gave him pause, the one he’d least expected.

William’s expression, Patrick reflected, was a point of interest.

It looked, for all the world, like melancholy.

*                                                 *                                                    *

William had long forgotten what it was like to feel something for another. Even before he’d hunted down the strongest vampire he could find in New Chicago and demanded to be changed, feeling things as delicate and fleeting as emotions had been hard for him. His past, known only truly to himself was such a decaying memory and hung in his mind like a faded photograph. The only colours he remembered of it were grey, black and a raw red. He remembered feeling little more than distinct, sharp suffering and the unwavering desire to end it. His younger human voice cracked through the silence in his mind, demanding change.

“I want you to give me the dark gift.”

It was done quickly and without drama, it was a comparably forgettable moment when compared to others that had since followed.

The first thing he recognised when he opened his new vampire eyes was not the hidden beauty of the night like most fledgling vampires, but the exquisite lack of feeling that sunk into his body and soul. He felt torment no more and a kind of tranquillity humanity had never offered him. Though he physically hadn’t changed, from that day forth his mind grew wiser with all the years that passed.

He offered the opportunity of eternal life to his four closest friends and they joined him willingly. He knew in them he had found the beginnings of a powerful clan and sought to improve it. He searched for those human’s who mirrored himself when choosing members, so their trust and faith in him would be strong. One evening when changing a particularly misanthropic human, the ironic name The Dandy Clan sprung to mind. A week later they attacked New Chicago in their first high scale raid viciously proclaiming their hold over the town. The massacre they left in their wake was infamous and The Dandy Clan’s name spread like wildfire. It wasn’t long before the Dandies were respected and feared.

As William concurred, he learned things that made him progressively ashamed and disgusted with his human self becoming more detached from it with every day. He learned that the vampire he had asked to change him was not the strongest in New Chicago, not by far an appalling mistake on his behalf. He heard of a clan of vampires, far older than most of the clans that resided in America, yet here they were in New Chicago. He learned everything about them and became ensnared by mystery and intrigue of the Way Vampires. Though the vampire that turned him had been weaker than these ancient creatures, Beckett’s strength had been growing at a surprisingly fast rate. He pondered this once or twice, suspecting it was his longstanding predisposition to this life that gained him power more quickly than the average vampire; this was only of mild interest to William though. Increasing strength is not what concerned him but rather the goal to be the strongest. If he was the most powerful no one would ever be able to challenge him, no one would bring him to suffer again and he was not going to wait for his progressing powers to eventually deliver him there.

After nearly a year of careful planning and calculated research William took the Way Estate and killed everyone inside. His plan was to drink from the newest heir to the clan’s potent bloodline and though he drank from one vampire that night, the vampire had been no stronger than himself, weaker in fact. Something about the events that took place in the lobby lodged in Williams mind till long after he’d left the Way clan to the sun. He had killed whole families before, seen them beg him for mercy and yet this family’s annoying sacrifice had reached him somehow. It was their cries that had touched him, leaving dirty marks of feeling on his glassy heart. He wasn’t guilty or remorseful for what he did but longed to sense things like they did. The pure unadulterated intensity of the emotions his victims went through that night made William try to remember what it was like, not to feel sadness or agony, but to feel for someone else as they had felt.

This fascination with emotion, the way one could manipulate human growth, relationships and even human identity through the tweaking of their emotions became as important to Beckett as his conquest for control. This curiosity reached passed human’s to their living dead counterparts all through the Way vampires’ deaths. William had always believed that nearly all vampires lost real emotions for others and even themselves when they were turned sensing only tendencies towards one feeling or another: annoyance, amusement, contentment; never true ravenous hate, despair or happiness. Once he had realized this to be false, his eyes were opened to the things he had not noticed till now, in particular the youngest Dandy, Brendon. He had originally turned Brendon because the boy already had a strong sense of emotions and Beckett had been curious to see if these traits would remain after being turned, as before Brendon he had only ever turned humans like himself. He knew Brendon had turned his best friend when he was about to starve and was keeping it a secret. Little had ever escaped Beckett about his clan. His new discovery prompted him to invite Ryan to live at the Dandy mansion bringing Brendon to euphoria. William found Ryan engaging and the games he and Brendon unwittingly played with each other served as the catalyst for fuelling William’s curiosity. He knew they were in love before they did, their antics eventually grew tiresome for him and so he sought to change another like them. That is when he found Pete.

Not long after he’d taken over the Way Estate some hunters emerged calling themselves the saviours of New Chicago, their name a contradiction to their declaration, The Clandestine Vampire Hunters. The would-be hunters that came before and failed were not as persistent and resourceful as the Clandestine and the new hunters did annoyingly well in keeping from being caught. They began systematically pulling William’s plans apart one sting at a time, taking down the vampires he’d set in place to run the city, saving victims, killing Dandies and causing permanent damage to William’s progress. The first time he actually saw Pete, laid eyes on him as he fought to prevent one of Beckett’s hunts from reaching the suburbs, he knew Pete would be the perfect subject to change and play with. He saw Pete’s volatile potential, his brash personality, and his fierce loyalty and knew Pete was the key to bringing down New Chicago for good. If he had Pete on his side, the other hunters would back down. He bided his time until Pete was finally vulnerable, distracted with chatting to friends in a car park and he stole him away. He drank from Pete until the amount of blood left in his veins barely sustained him and then offered him a chance to live. Weak, disoriented and confused Pete agreed and drank Williams’s blood before passing out.

William took Pete back to the mansion and waited for him to awake, buzzing from the sensations of having turned such a strange man. He was thrilled to realize he felt things more than before, and knew this was through sharing his blood with Pete. Pete’s verve blew though William like a fresh wind, so new and different. Pete’s life had been painful but a great deal happier as well and through Pete, William felt something for others now, things he knew he shouldn’t. There was a warm sense of friendship in his heart towards four people in particular; Joe, Andy, Patrick and Pete himself. William had grinned inwardly, pleased to know his enemies so thoroughly. When Pete did wake, things didn’t go as William had planned. Pete refused to join the clan and quickly escaped the mansion.

New found emotions boiling inside him, he turned his attention back to Ryan and Brendon, no longer satisfied with toying with them; his games became more demented with plans to pit their trust and allegiances against each other. Months rolled on and still the feelings Pete left in him remained, annoying William no end. After years of searching and taking control of Chicago one suburb at a time, William ran into information about the heir to the Way blood line. Not only was he still alive but he conveniently frequented the same bar every night. Using the Clandestine as a tool, William planted false information for them and lead them to the bar, hoping they would be able to subdue the heir enough to be able to take him; this plan too, fell through. Over the last few months everything had come to a head; his decision to kill the Dandy clan and replace them with more powerful vampires that didn’t remind him so much of his pitiful human self was just the first of many that were made. His strategy was perfect, flawless and he knew this time he wouldn’t fail.

He overlooked something. It was a factor he hadn’t considered because he hadn’t even thought it important; Ryan.

*                                                 *                                                     *

William’s brown irises picked up the muscles in Brendon’s arms contracting, the diminishing cries that fell out of the air the second they flew over Brendon’s tongue and the limp messy hair that masked his eyes. He’d enjoyed pitting Ryan and Brendon against each other, watching them pretend not to care and thinking that they had fooled him. All the things he’d seen in them and all the glee he’d extracted from their suffering seemed non-existent. There was a cold feeling pooling in his stomach, something like sadness. William wondered what Ryan would say to him if he had the chance now. If he stood before him, looking up face dissatisfied as though he’d lost another one of the chess games they had played together up until a few weeks ago. William cocked his head wondering just what he’d say. The boys mouth opened and closed but no words followed, just a small teasing smile. William scowled at the visualisation and let it go.

He turned his gaze to Michael and his closest crew of Dandies who were soberly watching the scene. As if sensing William’s movements they looked back to their leader one at a time, eyes all waiting and ready for Beckett’s order. His chin only raised an inch or two but it was a decisive move and their focus flew to Gerard who stood a few metres away, defenceless and distracted.

*                                                 *                                                     *

Patrick frowned. He had been studying William’s almost sad expression with astonishment for a few long minutes. It was like a mask had fallen off revealing something underneath the facade Patrick wasn’t even aware William had. He must’ve realized his guise had slipped because it wasn’t long before his features returned to their displeased scowl. Patrick’s eyes widened further as Beckett gave a slight nod to the Dandy’s who turned their attention to Gerard.

Patrick looked frantically to each of his friends, none of whom had seen Beckett’s silent exchange. He stood.

“Gerard!” Patrick shouted, voice barrelling through the increasing quiet as Brendon had begun to calm down. All heads twisted to stare at Patrick “Look out behind you!”  

Gerard was in a trance like state and didn’t look up or move. The Dandies pelted forward, Sisky and Chislett grabbing a hold of each of Gerard’s arms, Michael and Butcher rushing to attack Gerard.

“Oh hell no!” Travis exclaimed, running forward. His hands flew free of his pockets and he crashed into Butcher before he reached Gerard, tackling him to the ground.

“Patrick!” Andy shouted, charging at Michael, holding out one hand as he ran.

“Here!” Patrick bobbed down. He snatched Andy’s sword off the ground and followed through, tossing it to him. They had to act quickly to prevent this assault from achieving its purpose. Andy caught it and slashed at Michael, cutting a deep gash through his side as he tried to dodge. He hissed at the unexpected burning in his wound and, taking advantage of this, Andy kicked him over with one swift hard round house.

“RRRRR! It’s got holy water on it!!!” Michael snarled, hand covering the wound as he hit the dirt. His companion’s didn’t hear him, too busy with their assault on Gerard.

Pete was the next to join the brawl, pelting from Patrick’s side into Sisky, punching and pulling at him as he tried to get him to let go of Gerard. Gerard’s clothes were pulled and yanked as his captors struggled in the culminating battle around him.  

“Patrick!” Joe staggered over to stand beside Patrick, still disoriented, and presented him with a long sharp piece of wood “Are there any weapons around?! My stake launcher is broken and this is the only stake that’s not smashed.”

“Let me see...” Patrick said, scanning their surroundings for any discarded guns or swords “Hey!” Patrick pointed to where Travis was scuffling with Butcher. Joe flinched as one of Butcher’s fists smashed into Travis’s side, eliciting a loud cry from his victim. Then he noticed what Patrick was pointing to. Next to the two struggling vampires was Travis’s semi-automatic. Joe looked at Patrick.

“I got it, man.” Joe said and began to head for it when Patrick grabbed his arm.

“Give me the stake.” Patrick said, holding out his open palm. Joe slapped it into his hand.

“Be careful.” Joe said, before advancing on the Dandies.

Pete slammed his hand into Sisky’s chest, his last attempt at prying the vampire from his prey, but as Sisky’s body went into convulsions he lashed out, scratching his fingernails across the burn on Pete’s arm. Pete screamed, letting go and the beating continued. Chislett and Sisky were taking it in turns to thump Gerard whose body just flinched and flailed like a rag doll under the assault. Pete buckled, clutching his arm as the scratches bore blood.

“Gerard, what the hell?!” Patrick shouted, feeling helpless on the sidelines “Fight back!!! What the fuck are you doing!?!?”

Disashi had long since killed the trio of Dandies that had attacked him nearly an hour ago and was circling the battle waiting for an opening. Pete hardened his glare and wiped some sweat away from his forehead then stood, ignoring the pain as best he could. He slammed a double kick into Sisky’s chest and head, finally knocking him back. As he stumbled from Gerard, he tripped and Patrick saw his chance, closing the small space between them. One hard and swift stab was all it took; Sisky’s body arched and squirmed while the stake drained his life. He stared up at Patrick, gnashing his jaws and hissing but eventually lay still. Patrick then retreated, now completely defenceless. In a moment, Disashi was by his side.

“They all look busy so I’ll watch your back, man.” Disashi offered and Patrick accepted with a brisk nod, attention firmly fixed on the bodies raging wildly against each other before his eyes. It was horrific; punches, kicks, scratches, burns and cuts bursting from every direction. Some fights were more like brawls, with Travis and Butcher tearing at each other and rolling over, broken lips and scrapes scattered across their faces. Pete’s style was full of calculated relentless combinations of attacks, flowing one after another in a flurry against Chislett who still had Gerard and didn’t hesitate using him as a shield. Pete snarled in frustration unable to attack whenever Gerard was pulled in front of him.

Michael dodged as Andy’s sword came down at him again. Andy spun around, attempting to drag the sword in from the side but Michael stepped in close grabbing the hilt and pulling Andy to him. Andy shouted as Michael clamped down onto his neck, teeth sinking agonisingly through his flesh.

“Let go of him right now!” Joe glared down the gun as he shoved the cold muzzle against Michael’s forehead, hand on Andy’s shoulder to balance himself, not sure enough in his aiming to chance a more distant shot “I said get the fuck off!” Joe pulled the trigger and Michael’s head jolted back releasing Andy who took a step back, hand pressed firmly to his neck. Joe steadied him before taking aim again knowing anything less than silver bullets tended to be little more than an agitation to most vampires. Michael shook under the rain of bullet fire till his life barely sustained him. Joe saw his end was imminent and pulled the trigger one last time, Michael giving his last evil sneer to his killer.

Joe shoved the gun back in his belt then turned tiredly to Andy who was standing beside him still clutching his throat. The sparse light tinted the sweat on Andy’s face hidden, only slightly, by smudges of dirt.

“Are you ok, dude?” Joe asked.

“Yeah.” Andy replied, looking pale. His eyes were still watching Michael.

“That was a close one.” Joe said, noticing blood trickling down from underneath Andy’s hand. He frowned.

“Hey, gimme your scarf.” Joe said and Andy obliged.

“Move your hand,” Joe ordered and Andy finally looked back at him and shook his head “Don’t worry man, just do it.” Andy gulped before painfully removing his hand from his neck. What lay beneath was more like a wound than puncture marks and it was now obvious to Joe that Michael had thrashed as he’d bitten down, leaving gashes instead of a neat bite. Joe wasted little time and threw the thin scarf around Andy’s neck, winding it around a few times before tying it firmly.

“We’ll probably have to go to the doctor later for that one,” Joe said, worried at the amount of blood Andy was losing, though he suspected for the time being he would do fine.  

“Probably, thanks,” Andy tried to remain calm.

“No problem,” Joe replied before eyeing his gun “Three bullets left…” he turned to Andy once more “Hows your aim?”  

A few meters away, Travis had pinned Butcher and was raising his fist to punch but in that one split second, Butcher’s knee whipped up into Travis’s chest, belting him off. Travis hit the dirt with a thud and Butcher wasted no time following up with a knee to the kidneys. Travis used the momentum of the knee to roll over and putting his weight behind him fell into Butcher’s side hard with his elbow. A definite brittle cracking sound was heard through skin as ribs broke. He cried and coughed for air, arms wrapping instinctively around his front as he wheezed. Travis waited for Butcher to attack but he just curled up on the ground defencelessly before him. Travis fisted Butchers shirt and stood dragging him up with him. He held Butcher up to head height, his eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched blood beginning to form at the edge of his mouth.

Without warning Butcher punched Travis, catching the side of his jaw and stunning him enough to make him drop him. He punched him again in the side and stomach. Three shots sounded, finding their mark in Butchers shoulder, neck and back. He looked back to see Andy lowering the semi automatic, Joe by his side giving him the finger. Travis saw the opening and took it, both hands gripping Butcher’s throat tight. Travis knew while the broken ribs may have been healing, blood would still be pooling in his lungs, blocking up airwaves and making it hard to breathe. Strangling him might be enough to suffocate him.        

Several moments earlier Pete’s frustration finally got the better of him, as Chislett once again stopped fighting Pete and pulled Gerard in front of himself. Instead of dodging or pulling away to avoid hitting Gerard he roughly grabbed Gerard’s coat and yanked him out of the way belting the un-expecting Chislett square in the face. He flew back, his hand releasing Gerard. Pete turned to Gerard. He snapped his fingers in Gerard’s healing bruised face.

“What are you doing, dude?” Pete demanded, shaking him “Hello, Gerard! You’re supposed to be fighting, helping out, doing something, dude we need you,” Gerard opened his mouth mumbling, dim eyes scanning the battleground, dried blood running from his lip to his chin.

“…regret…. her name is fear I know it…mother war…death…they’re all dead…” Gerard said. Pete looked around but couldn’t see what Gerard was talking about. “motherfucker…the black parade…”

“Gerard, snap out of it!” Pete shouted.

“It’s almost…” Pete saw the two words whisper over Gerard’s lips before a shocking white blanked his vision and battered the side of his head. He staggered back before the ground rose to meet him with a thud. He scrambled to sit up, trying to blink the white away, which was beginning to slowly form smaller stars of white in his swimming, dizzy vision.

“What…what the fuck,” was all Pete could say, unable to stand or comprehend what had just hit him. At that moment, Travis also fell back hard, releasing his hold on Butcher’s throat for seemingly no reason at all. Butcher fell to his knees, coughing for air and holding the sores on his neck but Travis did not get up, lying flat on his back. Unconscious. Joe and Andy began to step back, eyes flicking wildly around, taking in the scene and trying to find the source of the danger. Gerard was standing a few meters from them, unmoving; Pete was sitting next to him completely dazed; Brendon crouched silently by Ryan, Disashi and Patrick were behind them and Butcher and Chislett were trying to compose themselves. Then in the middle of it all he appeared, coming into vision like a ghost, features sharpening into being. His dark unruly hair blew in the wind; his pale skin almost glowed in the moonlight and he fixed his cuffs straight. William had made a move.