Sunday May 11th, 2008

Laval

Mont Royale Public Park

Dog Off-leash area

9 AM

Pierre and Pat sat on a park bench watching as Stuey, Mare’s French bulldog, wandered around the trees sniffing at every tiny little scent he could find. The two men had come out here to while away the hours. It was a Sunday morning and neither man had felt like going to church with their families. Not because they didn’t believe but because they had both spent all day Saturday with aforementioned families and felt more like spending time outside.

The rest of the guys were scheduled to meet them around lunchtime when they were going to try for a second time bowling. This time without Pierre fainting on them.

Pat glanced sideways at his friend. “How did you do yesterday?”

“Hmmm?” Pierre was staring at a rose on the other side of the park noticing the strong scent that wafted toward him. He met Pat’s questioning expression. “Yesterday?”

Pat nodded, leaning back against the wooden slats of the bench. “Yeah. Anymore funny episodes?”

Pierre looked thoughtful for a long moment. “No. Come to think of it...no more blinding headaches...I guess the aspirin did help with that.” He bit his bottom lip. “I did have this sudden craving for red meat though. Dad cooked a barbecue...and you know what’s weird?”

“What?” Pat tilted his head giving his friend a curious glance.

“Well, normally I have my meat medium to well done...but yesterday I practically ate it right off the cow.”

“Rare?”

“Yeah...”

Pat shivered slightly, tingles racing up and down his spine. Blood cravings...

He’ll need to feed soon...ask him if his teeth have been aching...

Yeah, right...how the fuck am I s’posed to ask that without looking crazy?

Just do it, Pat.

Okay...Okay... He shifted on the bench turning his eyes back to Stuey. The small yet muscled dog had his head stuck in some bushes making soft snuffling noises. Pat watched him before speaking again. “Hey, can I ask a weird question?”

Pierre smirked. “A weird question?” He brushed a hand through his scruffy hair then smoothed it along his left arm, fingering the ink absently.

“Yeah, you been getting a strange feeling in your...uh...mouth, lately?”

Pierre blinked staring hard at his friend wondering at the query. He sucked at his teeth lightly. As he did so, a dull throb began pulsing at the base of his canines.

He scrunched up his face, rubbing at his jaw. “Fuck...” He mumbled, “I am right now...”

Pat sat forward on the bench, just as Stuey suddenly started barking furiously. The two men turned around to see what the commotion was. They both blinked; Pierre in shock, forgetting for a moment about the ache in his mouth; Pat in bewilderment. Standing in front of Stuey backed against a tree was the largest dog either man had ever seen.

Of course it took Pat a mere second to realise that, one, it was a Were not a dog; and two, that he knew who that Were was. Christ...what the hell are you doing here?

The Werewolf snarled at Stuey, who instantly backed off still barking but doing it quietly. Then it turned deep brown eyes to the two men.

Pierre sat frozen to the bench staring in disbelief at the huge animal. Its fur was rough looking, dark grey all over except for the underbelly, which was a shade lighter. Pat got to his feet and began to walk toward the large dog. Pierre blinked then stood as well opening his mouth to tell his friend to be careful. Then he watched in surprise as Pat got down on his knees and took the massive animal’s head in his hands, pressing his forehead against its fur and closing his eyes.

The Werewolf rumbled in its throat, nudging at Pat’s hands. I thought I’d come see how things were going...and let you know that there’s only so long I can keep my master from knowing Pierre’s identity.

Pat bit his bottom lip hard. If Shadows finds out...

You need to explain everything to Pierre... Johnny waved his tail from side to side, then his muzzle wrinkled, lips pulling back from his teeth. He needs to feed...

Pat swallowed hard glancing back at Pierre who now had his face in his hands, jaw clenched tight as if trying to hold back some hidden pain.

“Shit...” Pat muttered loud enough for his friend to hear.

Pierre looked up and glowered back at him. “What?” His voice was thick with a need he didn’t even realise he had. Pat got up and walked back to his friend getting down on the ground in front of him. “Pat? What are you doing?” Confusion clouded Pierre’s eyes.

Pat stared up at him. “Tell me where it hurts, Pierre.”

“What?”

“Where does it hurt?”

Pierre clenched his jaw then opened his mouth slightly. “What the fuck do you-”

“Pierre just fuckin’ tell me!” The desperate tone to his friend’s voice made him jump slightly but Pierre decided to answer the question.

“My teeth...” He pressed his fingertips to the front of his mouth. Then he cast a wary glance at the large dog, wolf, whatever the hell it was. Johnny padded closer and sat back on his haunches, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Pierre scowled. “What’s up with the dog?”

“I’m not a dog, Bouvier.” The voice that issued from the creature’s jaws distorted due to the large teeth.

Pierre backed up on the bench eyes widening slightly. “Did...did you just...” He shook his head and glanced at Pat. “Tell me that...that...animal didn’t just...”

Pat sighed, “Yes, he did. Look, Pierre...there’s something I need to tell you. And...it’s not going to be easy to...digest.” He glanced at Johnny. “Maybe you should stick to telepathy...”

Yeah...I sound much better like this...

Pierre swallowed passed a lump that had formed in his throat. “You just...”

The Were turned his head to look at him. You’ll get used to it. I’m sure Pat’s been doing it to you too.

Pierre frowned and shot his friend a sharp look. “At the bowling...”

Pat smiled weakly. “Yeah, at the bowling.” He shifted so he was sitting on the ground. “Look, I think I should start with Johnny here.” He tilted his head toward the large animal.

Pierre followed his gaze and pursed his lips together, kneading at them slowly. “Johnny...?”

Pat nodded slowly. “Johnny here...is a Werewolf.”

The singer stiffened expression sceptical. “Pull the other one.”

It’s the truth, Bouvier. Once every month I get all shaggy and howl piteously to the moon. There was a hint of sarcasm to the Were’s tone.

Pierre couldn’t help but laugh. “Funny...”

I thought so. Johnny thumped his tail against the ground.

Pat rolled his eyes, licking nervously at his lips. “Well, that’s not all...um...you’ve heard of Avenged Sevenfold, right?”

Pierre leaned back against the bench. “Yeah, of course. They’re only the best crossover band out there on MTV.” He squinted at his friend. “What of it?”

Johnny’s ears twitched forward and he let out a soft growl. I’m the bassist. Johnny Christ.

“Holy...” Pierre shivered a little staring hard at the Werewolf. “You’re in Avenged...do they know that you’re...” He trailed off not sure what he was really trying to ask. Hell, he wasn’t even sure he believed what he was hearing; perhaps it was all just a crazy dream he would wake up from. He blinked rapidly then stared hard at his friend.

Pat snorted getting up and moving to sit on the bench again. “They all know. Which brings me to the important part of all this. You.”

“Me...?”

“Yes, Pierre. All these weird things that have been happening...they’re um...not gonna go away anytime soon...”

Pierre stood up abruptly. “What? But, it’s driving me mad...I can hear this fucking rushing of water-”

Johnny cut in. That’s not water you’re hearing...

“What the hell is it then?” The singer was beginning to feel agitated.

The Were made a sighing sound and padded closer nudging his nose against Pierre’s knee. It’s the sound of blood travelling through the veins and arteries of the people around you. Johnny hesitated before continuing. You can hear it because...you’re um...a vampire...an immature one...but still...

Pierre went white as a sheet as a tremor shook his body. He sank back down on the bench grasping the edge tightly.

He bit his bottom lip hard, squeezing his eyes shut tight. “No...no...I’m going crazy...this is just fucking...unreal...” He was trembling now the colour fading from his skin.

Pat growled under his breath. Holy shit...this isn’t good...

Johnny snarled pressing his nose against Pierre’s knee. He needs to fucking feed...

Pat shuddered. But...his fangs haven’t even...

They will if he tastes blood in his mouth. Johnny rumbled in his chest and nudged Pierre again.Bouvier...

Pierre jerked away. “Don’t touch me...” His teeth were aching even more now, the pain throbbing savagely.

Pat could almost feel his friend’s pain. He glanced down at Johnny. What do I do? It’s not like we can go attack someone...

Johnny growled again. Your blood will do.

Pat frowned. Mine...?

The Were nodded gently. Go on...

Pat sighed and dug in his back pocket for the switchblade he always carried there. Pulling it out and snapping it open, he made a small cut vertically down his wrist.

Pierre noticed and scowled through his pain. “What are you doing?”

Pat didn’t answer instead thrusting his wrist close to his friend’s mouth. “Here...”

“What?” The singer recoiled.

Pat groaned. “Pierre...just...please...”

Pierre blinked slowly but something deep inside him compelled him to take the proffered wrist. He moved forward as if in a dream and pressed his mouth to the open cut. The copper taste of blood hit him like a tidal wave. It overwhelmed all his senses and the throbbing in his mouth eased as an entirely different sensation took over.

Pat deliberately pressed his wrist harder against Pierre’s teeth, trickles of blood stimulating his salivary glands. That was enough to trigger the transformation. Pierre’s body stiffened as he felt his canines elongate and sharpen.

His eyes widened, but before he could pull back, Pat caught hold of a clump of his hair and held him in place. “You have to drink, Pierre...”

What the fuck...

“Drink, Pierre...you won’t hurt me...”

Pierre hesitated; Pat pressed his wrist insistently against his mouth. The singer groaned but finally succumbed to the sickly sweet tang of his friend’s blood and began to suck at the cut. After several minutes, he pulled back a satisfied feeling welling in the pit of his stomach.

He blinked several times then tilted his head as he noticed Pat licking lightly at the wound. “What’re you doing?”

Pat looked up at the question. “It seals faster if I lick it...”

“Oh...” He paused slowly running his tongue around the inside of his mouth, pressing it against his newly formed fangs. “Damn it, I really am...”

“Yeah, you are.” Pat gave a light chuckle. “Those are real, so be careful not to bite yourself.”

Pierre sat back on the bench once more and let out a loud sigh. “Fuck...”

Indeed. Well, this has been interesting...but I need to go back to Montreal City...then back to TO...

Pierre looked at the Werewolf. “Toronto?”

Yeah, Avenged is performing several shows there. So, I gotta be present to play bass.

“And they know that you’re a werewolf?” The singer was still confused by that notion.

Pat smirked. “They know. But, how they know is a whole other story.”

As is the fact that you’re a Were, as well.

Pierre’s eyebrows shot up. “What?” He looked at his friend. “You too?”

Pat smiled sheepishly. “Yeah, me too. But, that’s a long story.” He brushed his hands on his jeans. “I’ll have to tell you about that some other time. I think you’ve got enough to think about right now.”

Pierre decided he would have to agree with his friend’s sentiment. So much was rushing through his mind; he didn’t think he could contain his thoughts.

Raking fingers through his hair, he looked down at Johnny again. “Guess...I’ll be seeing you then?”

The great animal bobbed his head up and down, tongue lolling from his mouth. Yeah...on tour maybe...

Pat reached down and stroked the tips of his fingers across the nape of the Were’s neck. Johnny rumbled then turned and loped across the grass without a sound. Pierre tilted his head; Pat leaned back, and Stuey scrambled out of the bushes he’d hidden under after he’d quit his barking.

“Stuey...c’mere...” Pat held out both hands. The little dog raced over and jumped into his arms, tucking his head into the man’s chest.

Pierre smiled faintly, still licking lightly along his fangs. “So, you’re a werewolf?”

Pat nodded without meeting his friend’s eyes. “Yeah.”

Pierre crossed his arms, frowning. “How did...um...” he bit his lip. “How’d you know...about me?”

Pat rubbed at his cheek shaking his head. “I’ve always known, Pierre.” He stood suddenly becoming agitated. “It’s...hard to explain.”

He glanced across the park, the opposite direction Johnny had gone. Pierre craned his neck around to see what his friend was looking at. His nostrils’ flared as four different scents suddenly assaulted them. Coming towards them, the bassist right at the front bouncing toward them as was his wont, were the rest of the band.

Pierre snarled under his breath, the whooshing of the four men’s blood causing his hunger to rise slightly.

Pat sensed the sudden tension in the vamp’s body and reached out to him, pressing a hand to Pierre’s shoulder. Don’t Pierre...you can’t feed from them...they’re our friends...

Pierre sucked in his breath, harshly. Fuck...I can smell their blood...

Pat lifted his eyes to the sky sending a silent prayer to the Powers-that-be then he stood and walked toward the others. “Hey, you’re early...”

David grinned, “I can’t wait to beat your asses at bowling.”

Pat shook his head. “I think we should grab something to eat first.” He glanced back toward Pierre. If you get some meat into you, it’ll ease the hunger...a little...

Pierre bit his bottom lip, being careful not to reveal his fangs. He had a feeling that they weren’t going away anytime soon. He tilted his head concentrating his mind on Pat. Focusing he found that he could triangulate his thoughts and send them out in a strong line of communication. It was just like talking except he didn’t need to open his mouth.

Who smells of strawberries?

Pat started slightly at the sound of Pierre’s voice in his head. Then he smirked faintly as he turned his eyes back to the others, responding to his friend’s question at the same time slapping David on the shoulder and adding that he bet he could beat the bassist.

You’ll have to figure that one out...what else do you smell?

Pierre stood, joining them smiling at his friends and joining in the banter whilst continuing his silent conversation with Pat. Burgundy rum, icing sugar...fish...and uh...dog...

Pat cast a sharp look at Pierre. I do not smell of dog. I’d think I was a little less of the domesticated smell...

Maybe it’s Stuey I’m smelling then?

No...that would be me... Pat looked back at the others. “So, lunch?”

Chuck shrugged. “Sure, I never had breakfast at any rate.”

Pierre rolled his eyes and laughed, “Typical. Always too busy to do anything important for yourself. Seriously, you’ll kill yourself one day.”

Chuck snorted and slapped Pierre on the shoulder. His eyes watered a little at the closeness to fresh human blood.

Pat noticed and stepped very close to him and gripped his left elbow firmly, squeezing hard. Bite your tongue, Bouvier...you can’t lose control now...you won’t be able to handle it...

Pierre did as Pat suggested sinking a fang into his tongue. The taste of his own blood was alien to him; the copper he expected was something else entirely.

However, it did ease his need a little, and he relaxed. Thanks, bud...

Welcome. Pat slapped a hand against his thigh. “Right, come on then. Can’t just stand here.”

“You going to drop Stuey back to Mare’s first?” Jeff nodded to the little dog still snuggled into Pat’s chest.

“Nah, no need. The place I’m thinking has let me in with Stuey before.”

Pierre grinned suddenly. “De Angelo’s Deli? Chelle’s taken Delilah in there several times. Gino’s fed her some of his best cuts of salami.” He chortled adding after a second’s pause, “Delilah that is, not Chelle.”

The other’s laughed.

“Come on then,” Chuck smirked.

Sebastien poked his head over Pat’s shoulder. “Speaking of Chelle, she emailed June and said she’s coming back tonight. Her last art showing was cancelled...due to funding or something so she’s coming home now rather than in two weeks.”

Pierre blinked jaw tightening ever so little. Shit...”Fantastic, I can’t wait to see her. It’s been too fucking long...”

Only Pat sensed his friend’s anxiety at his fiancée’s arrival and he knew what the reason was for that.

He squeezed Pierre’s elbow again then dropped his hand. It’ll be okay... He stretched shifting Stuey’s weight in his arms. “Okay, enough yammering, let’s get out of here.”

The others’ agreed wholeheartedly and the six men traipsed across the park glad just to spend time not having to worry about anything. They did not do enough of it, and unbeknownst to them they were going to have to make the most of it. That storm was approaching ever closer.

Notes

>.< I know what you mean, I'm like that about some of the stories I like to read.