Dr Le Millereux’s Surgery

2 PM

“Well, Pierre, there doesn’t seem to be anything wrong with you.” Doctor Le Millereux leaned back on his chair and studied the young man in front of him.

Pierre sat on the exam table in just his boxers gripping the edge of it in his hands. Normally he would have believed the doctor. He was a close friend of the family and a very reliable professional. His parents swore that the Doc was always at the top of his game. However, Pierre did not quite trust the doctor’s prognosis. Not this time; any other time, sure, but this was different.

He sighed heavily. “I feel drained though.”

The doctor tilted his head to the side; thin framed glasses perched lightly on the bridge of a highly arched nose. He had an air of wisdom to him; grey hairs escaping from their otherwise neatly combed position.

“Well, that could just be due to your touring schedule more than anything. I would suggest you just take as much rest as possible and not exert yourself too much.”

Pierre smeared his hands over his face. “But, doc...I fainted twice in one day...and...dammit...” He shook his head. “It’s fuckin’ weird...” He paused then laughed. “Sorry...I mean it’s weird...all these things happening to me...”

The doctor just smiled. Such language didn’t easily offend him. He had two teenage sons who dropped the F-bomb at every chance they got. He was used to it.

He splayed his hands out in front of him. “I’m not sure I can explain those symptoms...you’re tiredness may just be causing your senses to be confounded. I shouldn’t worry too much.” He stood and nodded to where Pierre had tossed his clothes. “You can get those back on. I’ll get the nurse to supply you with some aspirin, other than that I don’t think there’s much else I can suggest.”

Pierre nodded, hopping off the table. “Well, thanks for checking anyway...” He grabbed his shirt and jeans pulling them back on. He glanced at the doctor. “I guess I’ll just sleep for the rest of the week...”

Dr Le Millereux chuckled. “Sleep never hurt anyone. Take care, and say hi to your mother for me.”

Pierre rolled his eyes and exited the consultation room.

He found an anxious Pat pacing the length of the waiting room.

He glanced up, nostrils flaring slightly. “Pierre...what did the Doc say?”

Pierre made for the reception desk to pay the fee and get his bottle of aspirin, casting a sidelong look at his friend. “He couldn’t find anything.”

Pat’s jaw tightened even as he told himself he knew that would be the case. “Nothing?”

“Nope, he just said I was probably fatigued from touring.”

“Yeah, why the hell didn’t I think of that?”

Pierre missed the sarcasm in his friend’s tone. “I don’t know...probably just thought the worst. It’s human nature.”

Pat rolled his eyes slightly. That’d work...if we were fucking human... He raked tense fingers through his hair. “So...”

“So?”

“What’re you going to do?”

Pierre shrugged. “Guess I’m just gonna go home, put up my feet and not move for the rest of the week.”

Pat smirked. “Lazy ass.”

The singer snorted. “You can talk.”

His friend lifted an eyebrow. “I’m going to be busy doing shit for MOTH and Role Model...and for the SP website.” And making sure that fucker doesn’t find you...and figuring out how to explain what’s actually going on without freaking you out...

Pierre smiled weakly. “Dude, you’re the best, you know that?”

Pat shook his head a cocky grin flickering on his lips. “Well, it’s what I do best.” He clapped a hand to his friend’s shoulder. “Come on, we’d better get back to your place and let the guys know you’re not gonna die.”

Pierre laughed and followed his friend out of the doctor’s surgery.

Toronto

4:25 PM

Zacky Vengeance was leaning on the barrier that separated the front of the stage from the mosh pit. A small gaggle of fan girls hovered close by pushing gently at each other as if trying to get up the courage to approach the rhythm guitarist.

He sent them a winning smile, green eyes sparkling. “Hello, girls.”

They all gasped when he spoke, still giggling though. He kept smiling even though all he really wanted to do was grab the closest one, sink his fangs into her jugular and suck her dry. That’s what being a vampire does to one: an extremely hungry vampire...

I wouldn’t be thinking that, Vengeance...

The girls suddenly squealed and he glanced to the side to see his leader approaching. The master vampire looked completely benign and practically friendly as he came towards the barrier. Dressed in a pair of camouflage shorts, white T-shirt and flip-flops he looked nothing of the dangerous predator he really was. Just the lead singer of Avenged Sevenfold.

Zacky’s lip curled ever so slightly. Shadows...I wouldn’t act on it here... “Oh, look...now I guess you want hugs from him instead of me...” Zacky pretended to pout at the girls. One of them, a tiny blonde with black eye shadow circling huge blue eyes, blushed deeply.

The guitarist chuckled. “You wanna hug M Shadows?”

Shadows smirked. “She probably wouldn’t mind if you hugged her...you’re a lot chubbier than me.” He shot a look at the guitarist, darkness in his eyes that only the other man could sense. You’d better not, V; I’ll rip out your fuckin’ throat myself, if you do.

Zacky grunted disdainfully; the girls took that as a sign that he didn’t like being teased about his weight.

“Awww...don’t be mean...we like his pudginess...” one of the other girls giggled.

“Yeah, it’s hot!” Another girl blurted out.

Shadows rolled his eyes; for once, he wasn’t wearing his shades and his bright hazel eyes appeared warm, soft. “What about me? You think I’m hot?”

The girls giggled again. He smirked at them and braced his hands against the railing, gripping it firmly muscles flexing in his arms. They gawped at him; he knew exactly what they were thinking. They had never seen a male as buff as he was. He chuckled low in his throat, watching as they all went different shades of pink.

He smiled then dimples appearing, expression softening. “Who wants a photo?”

Zacky vaulted the barrier landing softly next to the girls. “I’ll take it if you want.”

The girls all giggled and crowded around Shadows where he leaned against the barrier. He placed a heavy arm around the tiny blonde’s shoulders, the other girls huddling around them. The girl closest to Zacky held out her camera.

He took it from her and took several steps back holding it up and squinting at the screen. “Smile everyone...you too, Shads...”

I don’t fuckin’ do smiles... The bigger male slid a smile onto his face, into his eyes. He was an extremely good actor.

Zacky clicked the shutter smirking. Why ever not, Shads? They look good on you...

Shadows gave a silent growl that vibrated in the guitarist’s skull. You want me to rip your throat out, kitten?

Zacky decided wisely not to respond and instead focussed on the girls, handing the camera back. “There you go, hope you enjoy the show.”

They thanked him profusely before hurrying off chatting excitedly to each other.

As soon as they were out of earshot, Zacky rounded upon the singer. “What the fuck is your problem?”

Shadows snarled, “My problem, kitten?”

“Yeah, and I wish you’d stop calling me that.”

His lips pulled into a cruel sneer. “What? Kitten?”

Zacky trembled, clenching his fists. “I am not a fucking child!”

“You’re a thousand-something years younger than me, Vengeance; you’re a child to me.” Shadows chuckled lightly.

The guitarist stalked close to his leader and pressed a finger against his chest, ignoring the tensing of the bigger male’s muscles. “I’m not Christ...I am not your fucking dog to bow down to your every goddamned whim!” He paused then a thought coming to him. “Where the hell is Johnny anyways?” He backed down from the larger man scowling at him. “We have sound check soon and he’s not even here...”

Shadows shrugged a bored expression on his face. “No idea.”

“No?” Zacky snorted.

Zacky Vengeance... The menace in Shadows’ mind was unmistakeable. The guitarist backed off lowering his eyes, which had incidentally turned a shade of olive.

Shadows sighed. “You hungry?”

Zacky glanced up at the singer. “Yeah...” I feel fucking dry...I need to bite something...and those girls...their blood... He shuddered slightly, biting his bottom lip as his canines’ began to ache.

The bigger male rolled his neck slowly, and then stretched his arms above his head. “Come on then...we have time before sound check. Syn said he found a place we could go. That’s actually the real reason I came out here. To tell you that.”

Zacky blinked. “Right.”

“Well, don’t sound enthusiastic, or anything.”

“Fuck off.”

Shadows hissed dangerously.

The guitarist held his hands out in a placating gesture. “Sorry...”

The huge male just grunted and turned on his heel heading backstage once more. Zacky trailed behind muttering under his breath, but falling silent when Shadows sent a cold stare back over his shoulder. Then he pushed open the door to the small room off the main backstage area.

Synyster and The Rev were lounging on one of the many sofas that were propped along the walls of the backstage dressing room. Syn had a Marlboro cigar hanging out of his mouth, smoke curling up in front of his face.

He removed it from his lips and rose from his seat, smirking faintly. “Ready for the hunt?”

Shadows rumbled in his throat.

“When is Shads ever not ready for the hunt?” The Rev commented wryly.

“Uh, that would be...never.” Syn chuckled then frowned faintly. “Where the fuck is the dog?”

Shadows glared at him. “Be nice, Gates. He’s a Were...not a dog.”

“Same diff.”

“It is not the same.” The larger male snapped, wondering silently why he was even bothering to defend the Were.

Syn laughed harshly. “Since when do you give a shit? Seriously, Shads. You fuck with the little shit as much as we do.”

Shadows grumbled sliding his aviators from his back pocket and slipping them onto his face. Then he focused his concealed eyes on the lead guitarist, brow furrowed. How I treat Christ is none of your concern, Gates. And for your information...I sent him on an errand. He’ll be back in time for the show tonight. He opened his mind to the others. Now, let’s move. Otherwise, none of us gets to feed.

Yeah, and that’d be fucking sacrilege... Synyster sneered. Shadows moved in a blur; before the younger gang member realised he was pinned against the wall with the huge male’s fangs buried in his throat. He gasped and clawed at Shadows’ shoulders trying to push him away.

His leader snarled sinking his canines in deeper. I’ll bleed you fucking dry, Gates...

Zacky and The Rev darted forward and seized his arms pulling him away.

“Fuck, Matt...don’t do that...” The Rev squeezed the larger male’s broad shoulders sending in a soothing rush of power. Shadows growled but backed off readjusting his shades and then vanishing from the room.

Syn leaned against the wall pressing his fingertips to the two holes in the side of his neck, catching his breath and forcing the wounds to heal. The Rev sighed shaking his head.

Zacky shot the tall vampire a disgruntled look. “How come you can get away with calling him that?”

The Rev smirked. “I’m older than him.” He jerked his head. “Come on, Matt’s right. We need to feed.” With that, the lanky vamp vanished.

Zacky sighed and disappeared after him. Syn, still rubbing at his neck, left out the door instead of dematerialising. He had to let the Berry brothers [the gang’s trusted crew posing as the band’s roadies] know the guys were off to feed.

Montreal City

Furniture Specialists Lycan Ltd

5 PM

He gives me the biggest fucking headaches... Johnny Christ slouched against a wall gazing at the man seated opposite. He was a large broad-shouldered male known only as Alpha. In Montreal City, he was a business magnate who was extremely influential and had a lot of power over the economy. And, he just so happened to be a Werewolf and Christ’s closest ally.

He lifted an eyebrow at the younger male seated before him. But, he’s good to you...

Hah, only because I owe him my life. Johnny paused, memories, from long ago, flickering in his mind. There had been a huge number of Werewolves in southern California back when he was a pup. Eighty odd years ago, the vampires had destroyed most of them during the long and bloody war between the two species. The war had been going on for eons, long before Johnny was born, even before Shadows had entered the world. Johnny was trapped and held captive, but for some inexplicable reason his life had been spared. He should’ve killed me, had me killed. But, instead he took me as his...servant. And most of the time it sucks.

Johnny shifted position scratching at the tip of his nose.

Alpha, chuckled. “Well,” he spoke aloud. “You wouldn’t be here at any rate if Shadows had killed you.”

“No, you’re right. I wouldn’t.” Johnny’s own voice was raw sounding as if he hadn’t used it for a while. He coughed a little. “So, Patrick won’t see me?”

The alpha sighed. “He says he needs a little time.”

Johnny groaned. “There’s no time. Shads wants his son.”

“Does he know who he is?”

The younger werewolf shook his head. “No. He has no idea...if he knew I was withholding that information from him...” Johnny shuddered slightly, images of what his master would do to him if he found out the truth flooding his mind. He pushed them away roughly and glanced at the man before him. “It doesn’t bear thinking...”

Alpha nodded. “I told Pat we’d give him two days. Time enough for him to explain Pierre’s situation to him.”

Johnny licked his lips. “Pierre Bouvier...who would’ve thought.”

The elder male chuckled, rolling his eyes. “Not the most likely candidate to be spawn of the Sanders’ clan...but, these things do happen.”

Johnny scratched at his nose again. “I need to be back in Toronto by seven...”

Alpha frowned, worry passing in his deep brown eyes. “How will Shadows take to you not showing up with the goods?”

Johnny sucked at his bottom lip then let out a low growl. “Not well...but...I can handle it.”

“You sure? I could always send some of the Brother’s with you.”

The Brothers were the Werewolves that were high up in the business world. In Montreal City, and in all other big cities of the world for that matter, Werewolves had assimilated into the human population extremely well. They did not look out of place in the high-rolling world of big money, politics and even the music and film industry, and they all had each other’s back, no matter the circumstances.

“No. They need to stay here. Stay in touch with Patrick.” Johnny breathed out harshly. “I’ll be back tomorrow...or the next day. Whenever he’s ready to talk.”

Alpha nodded brushing his fingers through reddish-brown strands of hair. “You could go down to Laval yourself...”

Johnny shrugged as he pushed away from the wall, making ready to leave. “We’ll see how things go.” He gave a sour smirk. “Gotta survive tonight first...first of several big shows in Toronto...”

Alpha cocked his head to one side, dark eyes narrowing. He sensed that what Johnny was actually worried about was surviving Shadows’ wrath. That was much more terrifying than playing a show in front of a thousand screaming fans. Still, he knew Johnny was tough. He descended from a long line of powerful Werewolves and time would reveal the young one’s potential.

“Good luck with that. Not that I think you need it...you do amazing things with that bass.”

A proud smile touched the corners of Johnny’s lips. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

He nodded, patting at his pockets ensuring he had his never-ending pack of cigarettes. Then with a nod to the Alpha, he vanished from his presence.

Notes