Laval

Saturday May 24th, 2008

Bouvier Residence

9 AM

Pierre sat in his room staring blankly at the wall along which his bed was pushed against. Above the bed were several posters. Random posters of bands Pierre had been into when he was younger.

He blinked remembering the first concert he had gone to. His elder brothers had bought him tickets to see Lagwagon. Jay had been so excited because it had also been his first big gig.

Pierre clenched a fist and banged it against his knee; just the mere thought of his brother set his heart to pounding viciously against his ribcage. Closing his eyes he strained to feel for any hint of the master vampire except he could not pick up anything.

Perhaps the doctor had been wrong, perhaps Shadows had already returned to Toronto. If that were the case, then Pierre would probably have better luck chasing after him once he returned for the concert later that day.

Sighing, he stood kicking his chair over, the thump of plastic hitting wood resounding in his skull.

“Pierre?” Jon poked his head around Pierre’s bedroom door.

Pierre turned his head and grimaced. “Hey...”

“The funeral director called back.”

Pierre frowned. “What did he say?”

“Well, if we want to get Jay cremated Mom and Dad have to sign the papers. They asked me to ask you if-”

“Yes.” Pierre’s answer was abrupt. “Tell them it’s fine with me.” He paused. “I want to keep the ashes though.”

Jon lifted an eyebrow. His younger brother dismissed him with a wave of his hand as he righted his chair and sank down on it again, disappearing into his thoughts.

Jon sighed and went out to the kitchen and looked at his Dad who tilted his head at him.

“What did he say?”

“Do it. But he wants to keep the ashes.”

A strange expression appeared on Rèal’s face but he acquiesced, lifting the phone of its hook and dialling the funeral director’s number.

Louise looked bemused. “Did he say why?”

Jon shrugged, “No. He just said he wanted to keep them. And I wasn’t going to say no to that. Plenty of people do that.”

“True.” Louise went to the oven and checked the pie she had made for lunch. It was still early; however, she had needed to do something to occupy her time when she had first awoken. “Will Pierre be staying for lunch?”

Jon pushed away from the kitchen bench. “I’ll go ask.” He glanced at Rèal who had finished on the phone. “Dad?”

“The director said someone would be around soon to pick up Jay’s body. We have to give them the Death certificate that Dr Le Millereux wrote out.”

Jon sighed absently adjusting the shirt he was wearing. “I’ll let Pierre know.”

His parents nodded; then he turned and walked back out of the kitchen and headed down the corridor to his brother’s room. He halted outside the shut door wondering for a split second why it was even closed. He rapped on it lightly, again wondering vaguely why he was bothering. He never usually worried about knocking.

“Come in...” Pierre’s voice was muffled. Jon pushed open the door and poked his head around it. His younger brother was lying on the floor on his back, pillow pulled over his face, moving up and down while he breathed. So, that was why his voice had been subdued.

“Uh? Bro, what’re you doing?”

Pierre removed the pillow and looked up at Jon. “Nothing.” He sighed and sat up stretching his back and arms before standing. Then he walked over to his bed and sank down on the covers. “So...” He pressed his palm into the blankets and stared at the old frayed spread avoiding looking at his eldest brother.

Jon leaned against the doorframe. “Dad says someone will be coming from the crematorium for Jay...”

Pierre nodded without looking up, his focus not entirely on his brother.

Jon went on. “Mom wants to know if you’ll stay for lunch?”

Pierre rolled his eyes toward his elder brother. “I’d stay...but I need to...” He paused, drawing in a deep breath, allowing his eyes to flash over.

Jon shivered watching as Pierre’s eyes changed hues. The red ring around the iris had begun to expand, seeping into the warm brown, white sparks flickering in the pupils.

“Going after the...vampire?”

Pierre hissed, lip curling up and revealing his fangs. Clenching a fist he pounded it against the bed spread. “Yes. I’ll fucking kill him...” A shiver of fury coursed through his veins, searing his whole body. He squeezed his eyes shut tight, but then allowed them to open meeting Jon’s worried gaze. “I will.”

Jon shook his head, smiling faintly. “I don’t doubt that. So, you’ll be leaving?”

Pierre stood. “Yeah...could you tell Mom and Dad I love them...I would, but I need to leave now.” He tilted his head, nostrils flaring. “I want to catch up to Shadows...before I have to be back with the band.”

Jon sighed. “Would it be pointless for me to tell you to be careful?”

Pierre lifted his head and looked his brother dead in the eyes. “I think I can handle him.”

He flopped back on his bed and stared up at the ceiling for a long moment. Jon stayed in the doorway watching him. After several silent minutes, the only sound in the room their soft breaths, Pierre sat up once more, ran his fingers through his hair, and then with one last look at his elder brother, closed his eyes and faded from the room.

Somewhere...

10 AM

Light filtered through the heavily laden branches of a large oak tree. Shadows had taken himself, and the female, off to one of the smaller parks in Laval and was lounging up in the high beams observing the people passing by. Sherry sat at the base of the huge tree arms wrapped around her knees, head tucked down.

The master vampire had warned her not to try and run from him. At any rate, she wouldn’t have dared risk angering him. He had made it absolutely clear what he would do to her if she even thought of escaping him.

She sighed softly and glanced up at Shadows.

He met her tentative stare and flashed a cold smile her way. “Our son will be here any moment now.”

Sherry shivered biting at her bottom lip. She fervently hoped that whatever trap the master vampire had set for their son would fail. She had no idea, and neither did Shadows, that Pierre would not fall for the master vampire’s dirty tricks. Pierre had more sense than that. However, that would not negate the statement that Shadows had just made.

Pierre was very close by, and Sherry suddenly caught the whiff of caramel that was distinctly their son’s scent. She had only just realised that this was indeed the younger vampire’s unique mark, the first real hint of his scent had been at the Bouvier’s residence [even though he hadn’t been there at the time], but it was now very obvious. It permeated the atmosphere and then there was a soft pop, several metres from where she sat.

Shadows growled and dropped down from the tree landing in front of her and glowering toward the source of the sound. He sensed almost instinctively that his original plan of gaining Pierre’s submission was not going to work; he could smell the red hot rage boiling in the other vampire’s blood.

Pierre stood there eyes narrowed, body tensed, every muscle in his body coiled tight as the strings on a guitar. He stepped toward the larger male and hissed low, lips peeling back from his fangs.

“Sanders...” His voice came out in a low snarl.

Shadows folded his arms standing with his legs spread, feet planted solidly on the ground.

His gaze was concealed by his aviators; however, his intent was clear by the sneer on his lips. “Come about your brother, Bouvier?”

Pierre spat savagely in answer. “I should rip you to pieces for that, you motherfucking prick.”

The master vampire chuckled cruelly. “It won’t do you any good, Pierre. Anyway, I did the poor bastard a favour. He was going to die anyway from his cancer, so why prolong the inevitable?”

Pierre clenched his fists and gritted out harshly, “Fuck you, Matt. I never even got to say goodbye.”

Shadows snorted in disgust. "You’re too fuckin’ soft, Pierre. Toughen up. You’re a fuckin’ vampire; you shouldn’t give a rat’s arse about those fuckin’ humans.”

The younger male growled and lunged at Shadows. The master vampire met him fast, planting big hands against Pierre’s shoulders, holding him back easily.

Pierre shuddered bracing forward against Shadows’ grasp. “Bastard...I should rip you apart...”

The master vampire laughed shaking his head. “Don’t be stupid, Bouvier. You can’t fight me and hope to win. I own you.”

Pierre snarled in response, eyes flashing over red. There was no way he would submit to that fact. Shadows would never own him. He was his own person, and added to that was the fact that Shadows did not realise that Pierre knew the full truth of his parentage.

The master vampire had no inkling that Pierre knew he was his father. If he had known he could have used that against him, but Pierre wasn’t planning to reveal that he knew the master vampire’s secret.

Meanwhile, Sherry watched the two big males from where she remained huddled against the tree. Her eyes darted between her son and the master, fear evident in her expression.

Shadows pushed Pierre back. Pierre ground his teeth together, but then allowed his gaze to slip passed Shadows to the female watching them.

He hesitated staring at her then glancing back at the other male. “My mother...” Pierre frowned, a big question mark hovering in the air between them.

The big tattooed male folded his arms across his chest, nodding slightly. “She belongs to me. And she understands her place. Unlike you.” Shadows leered coldly. “But, you will learn.”

Pierre clenched his jaw thinking silently to himself. If you mean that I will learn that you’re my father... He rolled his eyes once again looking toward Sherry. She lifted her head and he trembled at the fear and hopelessness in her deep brown eyes.

He tore his gaze away and glared angrily at Shadows. “You fuck. I’ll kill you for this.”

Shadows threw his head back and laughed long and loud.

Pierre stared incredulously at him. “I’m serious.”

The master vampire just kept laughing, then without another word, seized Sherry by a clump of hair and vanished. His last thoughts voiced in a cold rush in Pierre’s mind. You’ll have to catch me first, Bouvier...

Pierre let out a cry of fury, clutching at his hair feeling an outbreak of sweat soaking through the white T-shirt he was wearing. Swinging around he grabbed a low hanging branch and tore it away from the tree with a hiss and furiously swatted at the air for a moment before realising how stupid he must look to anyone passing by.

Dropping the branch he sank to a crouch and buried his face in his hands. There was no time for him to go after Matthew; he needed to get back to Toronto...join the rest of the band...do sound check and all those other things a member of a band needed to do before a big gig.

He had no real idea how he was going to cope; along with thoughts of his brother, he had to contend with the ice cold rage coursing through his veins. All he really wanted to do was kill someone.

The blood lust in his mind was demanding he feed his wrath. And, he knew without a doubt if he couldn’t go after his intended target it would be another innocent victim who would be caught in his web.

Groaning, he came to a decision, one he knew that would most likely cause more problems rather than solve them. However, he saw no way around it. Shutting his eyes, he breathed out roughly and dematerialised from the park, making a beeline directly back to the Simple Plan bus...

Toronto

Simple Plan Bus

Noon

“No, David. Mom and Dad told me to come back for the gig. There’s really nothing I can do. They’re just trying to keep Jay comfortable. Can we not talk about it?”

The bassist was badgering Pierre about why he had bothered to come back to the bus. The singer was in no mood to entertain his friend, but knew that shutting him down was pointless.

David folded his arms and pouted. “If it were my brother, I’d cancel everything and stay at home with him.”

Pierre looked up, cocking an eyebrow. “You don’t have a brother.”

The bassist snorted. “Well, if it were my sister.” He flapped a hand. “You know what I mean.”

Pierre mumbled, “Unfortunately.”

Pat, who had spent the time from when he had returned to the bus the day before until Pierre had reappeared attempting to fend off all the questions from the rest of the band, looked up from the salad he was trying to consume. Seb was sitting next to him and stealing the cherry tomatoes that were on top of the salad.

“David, leave him alone.”

David rolled his eyes. “Why, Pat?”

Pat shook his head. “Just...” He sighed, and looked back at his salad, grimacing. “Oi...Seb. Where’re the tomatoes?

Seb laughed and gave an innocent little smile. “What tomatoes?”

“The ones you ate,” Pierre muttered as he stood, pushed passed David and headed for the top level.

Chuck was coming down just as the singer went up and he caught hold of his friend’s arm and spoke to him in a low tone. “What really happened, Pierre?”

Pierre paused and met his friend’s worried look.

He shook his head and mumbled softly. “Don’t wanna talk about it...just...” He pulled his arm away and kept going up the stairs.

The drummer watched him go then sighed and joined the rest of the guys sitting around the small dining table.

David grumbled as Chuck sat next to Pat. “I still wanna know what happened to Lachelle. She just...left.”

Pat grimaced; Chuck looked at him. “You know, don’t you?”

The Were sighed heavily. “Yeah. But...maybe you should call her if you want to know.”

David blinked then grinned widely. “Oh, I never thought of that!”

Pat rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s because you don’t think.”

Chuck laughed, “Said with all the love in the world.”

“Of course,” Pat smirked faintly.

David sniffed, jumped up and dashed up the stairs to the top level. Pierre who was climbing into his bunk to get a bit of shut eye, halted and watched as the bassist scrambled for his own bunk and dragged out everything and rummaged about. Seconds later, David grabbed his phone gave a loud triumphant yell then raced back down the stairs.

Pierre blinked, shook his head and pulled his blanket over his head, dropping off in seconds the thought that he was still extremely exhausted over the past days’ events the last thing that flashed through his mind.

Palladium Arena

2 PM

Pierre stalked the backstage corridors deep in thought. These early matinee gigs were a little more hectic than the night shows. He never could understand why that was.

Perhaps it was due to the fact that fans began to line up to get decent positions in the moshpit early in the morning. When the band had arrived at the stadium there was already a long line of teenagers waiting for the doors to be opened.

The throng of excited kids was really getting to Pierre’s senses. His rage was still up and surging through his body, controlling his actions. So, he had gotten off the stage as fast as he could once he had set his levels and gone for a wander hoping to walk it off.

As he passed the large door that lead from the backstage area into the main entrance foyer it cracked open slightly and myriad aromas filtered through and hit his nostrils.

Pierre hissed, his fangs punching out in his mouth. Fuck...need to feed...

He turned his head away from the door and closed his eyes trying to feel for Patrick; however, the tantalising smell of fresh human blood forced its way into his psyche.

Biting his bottom lip hard he turned, pressed a hand against the door, and then pushed it open bracing himself for the inevitable screams of excited fans.

He could tolerate that, perhaps sign a few autographs, find what he was looking for then get out of there all before he needed to front for the gig.

* * * * *

Ten minutes before the band was due to go on stage, Pierre was out the back toothpick between his index finger and thumb, absently picking at his teeth. David leaned next to him bass clutched in his hands fiddling with his pick.

Frenchie, the band’s only official tech, passed the two men and went to go out on stage to do a last minute check of all the gear.

Pierre turned his head to watch him go a strange light in his eyes.

David noticed the look. “What, Pierre?”

The other male shrugged nonchalantly but then the hair on the back of his neck prickled. Seconds later they heard Frenchie cursing sharply in French and the door to the stage burst open and he came stumbling through, eyes wide in shock and horror. He was babbling wildly in French waving his hands around.

Chuck and Pat had just arrived, and so the former went to the techie and grabbed him by the shoulders. “Frenchie? What is it?”

Frenchie opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, pointing back toward the stage.

He finally managed to get some words out, panting after each word, trembling in shock. “A. Girl...a...body...dead...merde...dead...Chuck...I...she...she was...just...there...lying...I...I almost fell over her...behind the drum kit...”

Chuck froze then glanced at Pat. Without a word Pat went out onto the stage. Moments later he reappeared, expression grim, his eyes going straight to Pierre who was leaning casually against the wall still picking at his teeth.

Pierre met the Were’s eyes and allowed his lip to curl slightly. What?

You fed...I had to get rid of the body...she was fucking drained. Pat glared at Pierre then turned to Frenchie touching him on the shoulder. “French...go back to the dressing room...get something to drink. I can handle everything back here.”

The tech nodded and left the backstage area, thankful to get away.

Pat turned back to Pierre who rolled his eyes slightly. So? I needed blood, wolf.

Pat stiffened. Again with the not feeding from me shit, Pierre.

Pierre snorted pushing away from the wall, deciding to speak out loud in response, causing the other guys to all stare at him. Even Chuck was slightly shocked, even though he already knew what Pierre and Pat were.

“If I remember correctly, Langlois, you said you were done letting me feed from you.” He stalked forward toward Pat absently twisting the black tie he was wearing, the sleeves of his white shirt straining against his tensed muscles.

Pat growled low eyes flashing yellow, pacing forward to meet the vampire halfway.

He hissed low trying to keep the others from hearing his furious words, but knowing that he was probably failing in that, yet too mad to really care. “You asshole. You fucking son of a fucking vamp! Why a fucking...fan...why one of them?”

Pierre licked his lips slowly, eyes going black. “She was a virgin. And her blood was so sweet...”

“God damn it, Pierre.”

Pierre laughed coldly. “I’m a vampire, Patrick. God doesn’t figure much.”

Pat opened his mouth, but Pierre cut him off speaking louder, all his pain and anger rushing out, ignoring the stunned expression on the others’ faces. All his focus was on Patrick; the Werewolf was meeting his gaze head on as he railed at him. “I have just lost my fucking brother to a homicidal vampire who wants to control me...I am fucking tired and the only way for me to re-energise is to feed. You were fucking busy so I took the closest thing. So what if it was a fucking fan? No one’s going to know. Unless you plan on telling someone?”

Pat glared at Pierre finally getting a word in edge way. “Talk about calling the kettle black. You think he’s fuckin’ homicidal? At least he hasn’t gone around killing fucking innocent virgins.”

Pierre frowned. “What?”

Pat shook his head a look of utter disgust in his eyes. “I know him better than you. And I can tell you he has never stooped that low...no matter how much of an evil bastard you may think he is.”

“He fucking killed my brother, Patrick!”

David who had been fidgeting with his pick suddenly blurted out cutting the two men off in the middle of their ranting. “What the fuck is going on??”

Pierre and Pat swung their heads around finally allowing the shocked expressions on their friends’ faces to register on their consciousness. Pierre swept his gaze over them, catching Chuck’s eyes for a second. The drummer just shook his head at him and looked away, not wanting to get caught in the middle.

Pierre groaned. “Merde...” He ran a palm over his face and glanced at Pat a pained look in his eyes.

Pat sighed and folded his arms. “I’m not telling them, Pierre.”

The vampire automatically bared his fangs, the two canines elongating as he hissed viciously. “I’m not fucking saying anything.”

Pat just rolled his eyes and muttered half under his breath. “You’ll have to now.”

David’s face went white. “Holy fuck, Pierre...are those what I think they are?”

Jeff walked close and stared at Pierre’s face. The singer grimaced and closed his jaw the tips of his fangs protruding over his bottom lip.

It was Seb who voiced what they were all thinking though. “You’re a vampire.” It wasn’t quite a question.

Pierre looked away and stared at the opposite wall.

“Pierre?”

“Yes,” Pierre snapped irritably. “I’m a fucking vampire. But, hey...we’re more common than you think we are.” He glowered at the rest of his band members then smirked jerking his chin at Pat. “And, Pat here. He’s a fucking Werewolf.”

“Pierre!” Pat snarled.

Pierre just shot him a hard look then turned to walk to the stage door; Chuck followed him, so as not to get caught up in the unavoidable chaos that was likely to ensue.

There was two seconds of silence and then the questions erupted from the other men as they fought to understand what the hell he was talking about. However, they weren’t going to get any clear answers because at that moment their manager appeared telling them to get their asses on stage.

Pat nodded agreeing with the manager. It was time for the show to begin. Jeff, Seb and David looked at him sharply.

He held up both his hands and then said so only they could hear him. “After the show...I’ll make Pierre explain everything.”

They nodded, knowing that they would have to accept that. Pat hustled them toward the stage door and said ‘break a leg’ to each of them before shutting the door on them and collapsing on a seat, leaning his face in his hands and letting out a rough breath.

Notes