Forever Fearless

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

No sooner had Wayne popped the tab of his beer can than Deborah snatched it from his hand and threw it out her window. They sailed down the expressway at seventy-five miles per hour, the can becoming history as soon as it slipped from her hand.

“What the f**k!” Wayne howled, drawing his arm back as if to strike her.

“Don’t even think of it, Wayne. You’re not driving from here to Texas under the influence, and if you even so much as make a move to hit me, your ass is goin’ straight to jail.” She meant every word. Her days of being his punching bag were in the past.

Forever.

“That’s my goddamn beer. I paid for it, woman!” He lowered his arm and grasped the steering wheel, but she knew from the clenching of his jaw he remained furious.

“I’m not gonna argue with you.” She reached down to retrieve her purse, which was stowed beside her feet. She pulled it onto her lap and began digging through it, searching for gum or candy. She wasn’t going to even give her ex-husband the satisfaction of glancing in his direction. “You know, if you’d quit your drinking years ago and concentrated on being a father to our boy, we might not be in this situation.”

“What?” he bellowed.

She knew he’d heard her just fine. “All Robbie ever wanted was a man to love him…a father figure.”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ bout with your bullshit psychobabble. Ain’t that boy he took off with younger than him? How’s that a father figure?”

“Of course, you wouldn’t understand.”

He punched his foot into the accelerator, obviously annoyed, and quickly veered to the passing lane where he sped by a line of cars. Deborah closed her eyes and willed herself not to react to his recklessness. They rode in silence for the next ten minutes until Wayne had calmed himself.

“Look, I know I haven’t had the best relationship with Robbie, but, ya know, he’s my kid. He’s my son…and…uh—”

“And what?” she snapped. “He’s your son and what?”

“He’s my son and I care about what happens to him.”

“You can’t even say it. You can’t even say you love your own child!”

“I ain’t gotta say it! Jesus Christ, Deborah. You know I’m not like that, but…but I do love him. Of course, I do.”

“Well, you have a funny way of showin’ it. Earlier you said he was dead, like it’s no big deal.”

He took a deep breath then released it slowly. “I know. I shouldn’t a said that, but…well, it’s true. He might be.”

“Then how do you explain the money?”

Wayne shrugged. “You said yourself the police aren’t even searching anymore.”

“Still, they never found his remains. Don’t you think if he’d been killed they’d have found something? All those other boys’ bodies were identified, those kids from the church camp.”

“And they all supposedly were attacked by wolves? Are there even wolves in Texas?”

She had no idea, but the whole thing made no sense. “And what was he doing there in the first place? Why would two gay kids head off to a Bible camp out in the middle of nowhere?”

Wayne shrugged, clearly uncertain how to answer.

For the first time she didn’t blame the bastard for not answering her. How could you answer questions that made no sense? Deborah’s mind constantly churned through these questions and so many more. If he were a ghost, how could he bring me money? If he were still alive, then where did he go? Why had Richard and Brendan’s house burnt to the ground around the same time as Robbie’s disappearance? Was there a connection, and where were they now? Was Robbie still with Colt?

“Why we going here anyway?” Wayne asked. “I mean, if the police didn’t find anything, what makes you think we will?”

“Wayne, we gotta start somewhere. Maybe we’ll see something the police didn’t?

Maybe there’s a witness, someone who remembers seeing Robbie?”

“But if he came to you, that means he ain’t in Texas no more.”

“Probably not. But maybe we’ll uncover something that’ll lead us to him.”

He slowly shook his head. “Or maybe you’re leading us on a wild goose chase.”

~~~~~

Ray pounded the gavel to call the meeting to order, but the room full of distressed Matarians pulsated with anger and fear as members shouted back and forth, expressing their feelings over what had happened at camp.

“Order!” Ray bellowed and pounded the gavel again, multiple times. “I’ll have order!”

The din tapered to a dull roar, then silence.

Ray sat in the center of a large rectangular table at the front of the room. To his left and right other council members flanked him. He reached up to adjust his microphone before clearing his throat. He glanced to the back of the room and, with the wave of his hand, instructed the security guard to close and lock the entrance doors. He then took a deep breath and leaned into the mic. “Look, we all know why we’re here. We know what happened—”

“My son is dead!” A middle aged woman in the center of the room shot up from her seat, knocking over her folding chair in the process. “My Daniel is dead because this camp…this so called fortress…was breached!” she screamed. “I don’t know about the rest of you, but I want some answers. How did this happen? How did you let our children, the ones we entrusted you to keep safe, be slaughtered?” Her shrill voice continued to rise, climbing at least two octaves during the course of her outburst.

Ray held up both hands as the room again erupted with murmurings and shouts.

“Quiet! Quiet, please, we must have order!” He waited a moment, motioning for all to be seated again. “First of all, our deepest condolences cannot begin to mitigate your loss—all of you, all of us. We’re a family here, always have been, and we’re fighting a common enemy. I ain’t making excuses for our mistakes. But I can tell you, in the century and a half we’ve maintained this camp, this is the first such invasion. It appears the attack was actually a rescue mission. The vampires had come to free the prisoners held captive in the B7 warehouse.”

“Why were there vampires present, unguarded, in the same facility as our children?”

one of the parents, a silver-haired Latino man demanded from the back of the room.

“Eduardo, this was nothing new,” Ray said, raising his chin as he peered over the crowd to look directly at his longtime friend. “We’ve always held captive vampires at the camp. We use them for training purposes and target practice, and there’s never been any such rescue attempt.”

“Perhaps it should have been considered,” one of the other panelists stated. Kris Carver, a barracks supervisor of the camp, sported a short, military-style haircut. Her bright red hair shot up from her scalp in random spikes. “But we never dreamed werewolves would ever consider any sort of alliance with the vampires. It was actually a pack of wolves that broke into the camp. They leapt over the fences, then shifted to human form and freed the vampire prisoners.”

Ray shook his head. “The implications…well, I don’t need to tell you what the implications are. We’ve always enjoyed a peaceful relationship with the wolves. There hasn’t been a reported wolf attack on a human in over two centuries. Well, not until last week.”

“We consider the attack an act of war,” another panelist said.

Ibrahim Hawatmeh’s jaw tightened after he spoke. He stared out into the crowd of hurt, angry faces. “This is a call to arms.”

“It was your boy who let them get away!” someone from the crowd shouted. “It’s right in the report!” The blond haired thirty-something stood up, waving a document over his head. “He walked out onto the battlefield and called a ceasefire when we had the bastards cornered.”

The entire mob burst into raucous exclamations and cursing as Ray once more pounded the gavel. “We’ve all read the report. We all know what happened. The boy, Issa, entered the battlefield in an attempt to rescue a human. Let’s not forget that. Yes, the boy in question was with the vampires, but for all we know, he was their hostage, their prisoner.”

“Bullshit!” the blond man shouted.

Ray shot to his feet and pounded the gavel. “One more outburst like that and I’ll have you removed!” He looked sharply at the man who scowled at him, then sat down.

“Look, we can sit here and argue all day, pointing the finger at each other and blaming one another for mistakes that were made. Fact is, the security measures in place this year were exactly the same as they’ve been in years past for as far back as any of us can remember. This was a calculated, planned attack. And going forward, we will respond accordingly.” He sighed. “It don’t diminish what happened. It sure as f**k don’t bring back our kids we lost. All’s I can say is how sorry I am, how sorry we all are. We lost eighteen kids, and twenty more were terribly injured. Fighting against one another won’t change any of that. We’ve always known this. Almost every one of us has lost loved ones to vampires. My God, that’s why we’re here in the first place. Like Ibrahim said, this was an act of war, and rather than blaming each other, we need to pull together and work out a plan. We need to retaliate, and do so quickly.”

“But the question is, who do we attack?” Carver said. “The wolves or the vampires?

And do we even know which group of vampires is responsible?”

“Two of them are already dead,” Ibrahim noted.

“How do we know they’re really dead?” someone shouted from the crowd.

“Their hearts were ripped out. We have their hearts in our possession and they will be incinerated.”

“Will be? Shouldn’t that’ve been the first thing you did?”

All these questions were beginning to piss Ray off. “Look, we have a procedure to follow. The council meets this afternoon, at which time we’ll destroy the vampire hearts and release video via the Internet. We do this, especially in cases like this, to provide absolute proof that the enemy has been captured and destroyed.”

For the next forty minutes Ray and the other council members fielded questions, and by the close of the meeting they’d pretty much assuaged the concerns of most present. He honestly understood the intensity of their emotions. The events of the previous week had devastated their community in much the same way the terrorist attacks of 9/11 had shaken the nation. But now they had to pull together. They had to focus on seeking justice for their lost loved ones, their precious children.

After the meeting, Ray pulled Ibrahim aside. “Hey, I’m sorry you took so much heat back there,” he said.

They’d known each other for decades, and Ibrahim had always been a respected elder in the Matarian community. In spite of what had transpired with his son Issa, Ibrahim and his wife had lost their first son, so they knew firsthand the anguish and heartache the other parents were going through.

“It’s okay, brother,” he said. “I sympathize with their pain. Their questions are ones I’ve asked myself, even of my own flesh and blood.”

“Well, please don’t be too hard on him,” Ray said. “I know the boy only did what he thought was right.”

“Yes, and now he’s gone.”

“Gone?” Ray asked, thinking Ibrahim was referring to death.

“He’s run away from home, just like his older brother.”

Ray knitted his brow as he stared at his friend. “So why are you here? Why aren’t you out looking for him?”

“Issa has disgraced his family and his community. He’s no son of mine. My only son, Shadi, is dead.”

~~~~~

What would have been a four hour drive by car became a seven and a half hour bus trip, and the adventure was Issa’s first—and hopefully last—experience with Greyhound. His first challenge had been getting out of the house unnoticed, and that meant leaving really early in the morning while his parents were still asleep.

At 4:30 a.m. he snuck downstairs, backpack slung over his shoulder, and pulled out the drawer of the coffee table where he knew his father kept a credit card stashed only for emergencies. Hopefully he wouldn’t have to use it…but just in case.

He didn’t want to leave his mom. God, how could he? He glanced at the framed family photo hanging in the corner of the living room. The dim light of a streetlamp cast what almost appeared to be an angelic glow around the image of his mother’s beatific face. Gulping, he swallowed the emotion, forcing it down his throat lest it erupt in a sob. “I’m sorry, Mother,” he whispered, then kissed his fingertips and placed them gently against her image.

Leaving a note would be pointless. They’d figure out soon enough he was gone, and after their previous conversations, they’d have no doubt as to why. He still could feel the sting of his father’s palm against his cheek when he thought about their confrontation. The pain resonated in his heart, echoing and often clenching his chest like a vise. He was done, though. He’d reached the end of his rope and could no longer bear his father’s intolerance. And it really wasn’t just the gay thing. Yes, his dad was old school. He harbored homophobic feelings and beliefs, but Issa was confident his father’s hatred stemmed from something deeper than that. Even if he’d been straight, his dad would still have despised him.

He slipped on a pair of comfortable sneakers he’d left by the front door then entered the numeric code to disarm the alarm. Being in a Matarian household compared to living in Fort Knox. He’d grown up with it, though. He was used to the paranoia, the constant fear that hung overhead like a dark cloud. If only he could disengage his own internal alarm system. If only he could envision a normalized future. That’s all he wanted—a normal, average life where he didn’t have to worry about the monsters hiding under the bed or in the closet. The real monsters, not just childhood fairytales, and certainly not vampires.

From what he had seen, the vampires weren’t his biggest threat. As he mentally replayed the harrowing scene of the skinny blond kid hurling his body in front of his vampire lover, Issa knew they couldn’t possibly be the monsters he’d been taught they were. They loved, they felt things—genuine emotions—just like he and Dylan felt. They couldn’t possibly be evil.

And what about Shadi? What about his brother, the one who looked so much like him? Now that he’d joined forces with the dark side, was he condemned as well? Was he now one of the evil ones, the monsters?

Issa stepped briskly down the sidewalk then turned on the main road and walked the three miles to Starbucks, praying they’d be open at this time of the morning.

Thankfully, they were. They’d opened at five. He ordered himself a cappuccino and looked up the number for a cab.

Cab fare from Canton to Ann Arbor exceeded the price of the bus ticket, which wasn’t exactly cheap, at least not from Issa’s perspective. It cost ninety-two bucks to travel from Ann Arbor to Traverse City, with a transfer scheduled in Grand Rapids.

Issa had saved money of his own. He’d received cash gifts from his grandparents for Christmas and his birthday ever since the second grade. He always put the money in his savings account, having no reason to spend it, and this had seemed to impress his folks. They valued saving money, and his father especially encouraged him to save rather than make frivolous purchases.

During the summer, Issa took odd jobs to make money, including working one year at his uncle’s carpeting store. They didn’t actually install carpeting, but they sold remnants, and much of their business consisted of selling large area rugs and floor mats. At fifteen, Issa had been excited to take a real job, and he’d hoped that the manual labor, hefting the heavy rolls of carpet, would help him bulk up a bit. Perhaps it had made a slight impact, but he honestly couldn’t detect much of a difference. He had a slender build, and he seemed to possess the type of metabolism that allowed him to eat just about anything without gaining weight. Unfortunately, being a slow gainer also seemed to make it more challenging for him to build any muscle.

Dylan appeared to be the opposite. At sixteen he was already a brick shithouse—

with every brick in place. Images of Dylan with his flowing, shoulder length hair and toned physique flooded Issa’s memory as he settled into his seat near the middle of the bus. Fortunately, he’d nabbed a window seat, and after the first few stops, he ended up alone, without a passenger seated next to him. The farther north the bus traveled, the sparser the number of travelers grew.

He looked out the window, allowing himself to be lulled by the monotonous hum of the bus as it soared down the highway. Thoughts began to race through his head.

What was he doing? How could he throw away his future like this? What about finishing high school? Or college? He wasn’t even old enough to get a decent job, and what was Dylan going to say when he showed up?

A wave of panic washed over him, but Issa couldn’t turn back now. He couldn’t go back to that household, to his father’s judgment and hatred. And he had to find out what had happened to the blond boy, the one who’d been shot. Robbie. Issa had heard the vampire crying out his name as he held him to his chest.

Issa had to find out what had happened, and if the boy had somehow lived, he had to warn him of the Matarian plans for retaliation. He had to find Shadi as well. But that would be even more difficult. Issa had seen the look of anguish on Shadi’s face when Dylan had shot Raoul, the head vampire. Raoul and Shadi had shared something, a deep bond. They were mates, and Issa knew his brother would not have forgiven Dylan. If Raoul had not survived, the vampires were likely to track Dylan down and mete out revenge. If they weren’t already in the process of doing exactly that.

All the more reason to get to Dylan ASAP. Issa just had to be with him. He had to hold him once more, kiss him as he’d done back at boot camp. He needed to feel the strength of Dylan’s arms, hear the soothing tone of his voice. He had to get to him, at all costs.

He found himself waiting in Grand Rapids, a three hour layover before he could board the bus to Traverse. Already things looked different. As he glanced around the bus station he noticed far more white people than minorities. By the time he reached the end of his trip, other than the African American bus driver, there wasn’t a single Black or Latino person on the bus.

As he descended the steps of the bus, he expected to walk out into some sort of terminal, but instead all he saw was a large building that looked like a warehouse. He glanced around, confused. “This is Traverse City?” he asked the driver.

“That it is.”

“Where’s the bus station?”

The driver laughed as he reached down to lift open the luggage compartment.

“You’re lookin’ at it. This here’s just a drop off and pick-up station. They ain’t got a real bus terminal or nothin’.”

“Oh.” Issa turned to check out the building behind him. Midas Muffler. It was a car repair facility, already closed for the evening. Across the street another building sat, and it too appeared not to be open. “Wow,” he said. “Um, do you know how far this is from other businesses?”

“I don’t see any luggage for ya.” The driver was sorting through the suitcases stowed in the lower compartment.

“Oh…oh, I’m sorry. No, I don’t have any.”

The driver stood up and turned to face Issa. “Well then, that’s that. You’re the only one gettin’ off at this stop. Good day to ya.” He tipped his hat and turned to get back on the bus.

“Sir…wait!”

The driver turned to look at him, obviously annoyed. “Yeah?”

“I…uh…where…?”

“Head down this street here, bout a quarter mile. Just follow the sidewalk. It’ll take you to the business district.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.”

~~~~~

Colt used the tip of his index finger to trace a straight line down the center of his sleeping lover’s spine. The smooth, unblemished skin glowed, now a golden tan—

hardly characteristic of a vampire. But Robbie, still so young and in the first stages of his vampiric infancy, had not yet paled like the older vampires. His skin tone would gradually lighten over the years, a process exclusive to half-breeds.

Colt had learned a lot about Los Luzes over the previous months, since Richard had at last divulged the truth about their ancestry. Richard, the man Colt had known as his father for sixteen decades, was now gone. He’d recently told Colt there was no such thing as a truly immortal creature, and now those words haunted him.

For so long, Richard and Brendan had been his only family, and now they were no more. Colt had Robbie, and only Robbie, and it was up to him to protect the boy. It was up to Colt to teach him, mentor him as Richard had done with Colt and Brendan.

Colt had barely allowed himself to grieve. How could he? He had to focus on getting Robbie to safety, teaching him how to survive in his new existence. Colt had to concentrate on creating new lives—new identities—for Robbie and him, which is why he’d brought his lover here, about as far from civilization as he could imagine.

And so far, it seemed a wise choice. He’d made the necessary phone calls, transferring money in different time zones, then traveled on foot to Anchorage. The trip, which probably would’ve taken him at least a full day alone, stretched out over the course of a week. Robbie, being so young, couldn’t tolerate any sunlight. He moved much quicker than a human, but he wasn’t nearly as fast as Colt. That too would require time…and lots of practice.

For part of the journey, Robbie rode on Colt’s back, and at times Colt could feel Robbie’s body trembling, and not from the cold or from fear. His fragile frame would shake as he wept, and Colt knew the boy was mourning the loss of his former life. He’d said goodbye to his mother, his hometown, the only life he’d ever known.

Colt remembered. He remembered that emptiness as if were yesterday. He too had lost everything—his family, his humanity, and his James. But now he could offer something to Robbie that Richard had been unable to provide Colt during his time of transition. He could be far more to Robbie than just a mentor. They were soul mates, eternal partners.

And so in spite of Robbie’s sensitive heart, in spite of the tragedy the boy had witnessed and experienced, and in spite of challenges they surely would face going forward, Colt sensed a contentment within Robbie he’d never known himself. He knew it now, though. They shared a purpose. A destiny.

He leaned forward to press his lips against Robbie’s shoulder blade. Inhaling deeply, he allowed the boy’s youthful scent to intoxicate him. A jolt of s****l energy surged through him, his arousal evidenced by his throbbing c**k which now pressed against the back of Robbie’s thigh.

Robbie moaned.

Colt lowered his upper body over the boy’s back, blanketing him without allowing the full weight of his torso to crush him into the mattress. His mouth found Robbie’s neck. Tongue darting out, he tasted the smooth, succulent skin, and his fangs descended.

Robbie shifted beneath him, then quickly rolled over to stare up into his face. He smiled. “You’re still hungry?” That innocent smile—that unwavering look of trust in Robbie’s eyes—seized Colt’s heart, and the commanding lust that had consumed him seconds before, instantly dissipated, replaced by something far more powerful.

“I’m sorry, babe. Sleep. You need your rest.”

“Oh no you don’t.” Robbie laughed, then reached up to wrap his arms around Colt’s neck. “You can’t just wake me up like that, get me all turned on and horny then leave me unfulfilled.”

“Unfulfilled?” Colt’s mouth dropped open in mock astonishment. “You want me to fulfill you?”

“Mm hm.”

Colt felt Robbie’s hard-on pulse against his abdomen as the crush of his lips descended upon Robbie’s half-open mouth. Colt’s tongue darted into his lover’s mouth, invading it, seeking the razor sharp fangs that were now emerging. A delicious sting of pain electrified Colt when Robbie’s incisor sliced his tongue. Robbie gasped, gulping hungrily as Colt’s blood flooded his mouth.

Pulling back, Colt stared down at the boy, looking directly into his luminous, crystalline eyes. They’d changed at his conversion, retaining a lighter hue of blue that now appeared translucent, sparkling like diamonds. Robbie’s pale pink lips now glistened red with Colt’s blood, a trickle slowly dripping from the corner of his mouth.

He sighed as he looked up into the eyes of his master.

Colt had become Robbie’s master, but not in a bondage and domination sort of way.

He was Robbie’s maker, his mentor, his guide during the course of his transition. And he was Robbie’s dominant mate. His protector.

“Need you,” Robbie rasped, his breathy plea igniting a renewed stirring within Colt’s loins.

Colt grabbed hold of him, cupping both sides of his head as he again crushed his lips against Robbie’s. They shifted their positions, rolling back and forth on the mattress, clutching one another. Caressing. Stroking. Grasping. And at last Colt reached down, gripping his throbbing member at its base, and steered it toward Robbie’s welcoming hole. He’d spun Robbie around and was using one arm to hold him against his chest. In a smooth yet forceful movement, he thrust his pelvis forward, impaling Robbie as the boy cried out.

“Oh God! Colt!” Robbie took hold of Colt’s arm, pulled his wrist to his mouth, then bit down, sinking his fangs deep into Colt’s artery.

The rush of blood through his veins pulsated in rhythm with his throbbing c**k as he thrust, burying himself to the hilt—balls’ deep. Colt moaned and tossed his head backward, allowing the euphoria to completely overtake his senses.

He began to rut into his lover, slowly pumping his hips as he thrust in and out.

Gradually he increased the speed of his thrusts, nestling his face into the crook of Robbie’s neck, eliciting a sensual moan from Robbie as he repeatedly filled him. Colt reached down and took hold of Robbie’s now engorged c**k. He squeezed it as he thrust, then slowly began to stroke. He timed his thrusts to coincide with the stroking.

Robbie continued to moan and cry out. “Colt! Oh God…need you inside me…need you so bad!”

The sound of Robbie’s whimper was enough to at last send Colt over the edge. He groaned and thrust deep inside Robbie, whose body now shuddered from his own orgasm. Robbie’s high pitch cry accompanied a volley of hot c*m, erupting like a volcano from his c**k, splashing against his abdomen and chest. Colt reached his point of no return at exactly that moment and leaned forward to sink his fangs into the tender flesh of Robbie’s neck.

He fired his load deep within his lover as a draught of rich blood flooded his mouth. They clung to each other, Robbie again suckling from Colt’s wrist until the last wave of their orgasms at last dissipated. And then they slept.