U/D 24/3 Dwelling Place For Demons - SP/A7X Fic

So, this story actually started off as a Pierre Bouvier [Simple Plan] fic that featured A7X...but it became more of a crossover as it got bigger. It's AU fic, except that both bands are still bands in the story. That's all I'm going to say, though because I don't wish to spoil it, obviously.

~~~~~~

Two bands. Two vampires. Two Werewolves. Revelations will bring a father and son together, and a great evil will be released. Touring in a band has never been so hazardous before.

Warnings: For violence, graphic sex, language.

Note: A Simple Plan/Avenged Sevenfold crossover.



DWELLING PLACE FOR DEMONS

Prologue - "...a tale that will freeze your blood and chill you to the bone..."

Friends, let me tell you a tale that will freeze your blood and chill you to the bone: A tale of a creature who lives on the blood of the innocent and prowls in the deepest, darkest depths of your nightmares. He is a Prince of Darkness, one of the denizens of the night...yet, at first glance, he is not what you would expect...

Our story begins in Orange County on a dark stormy night...

May 1979

Huntington Beach, California

10 PM

Lightning flashes in the pitch black sky illuminating a large gothic mansion on a hill overlooking downtown Huntington Beach. Rain pelts down across the small town, heavier than any other night. The residents remain huddled within their cosy homes oblivious to the stirring deep in the night...an ancient evil rising above the town and settling over the hill...

A young woman paced a long hallway arms wrapped loosely over her stomach. She was a slip of a thing barely over four feet tall. Long black hair fell beyond her waist; her skin was pale, alabaster almost translucent. The bump in her stomach, evidence of an impending pregnancy, was the only large part of her physique, and even then only by a little.

Eyes half closed, she sang softly to the unborn babe that stirred within her. Glass rattled in a window close by; she glanced toward it. A gibbous moon hung low in the sky; the silhouette of tree branches cast strange shadows onto the inside walls. They looked like hooked claws. Raindrops dripped down the steel frame of the window. She shivered a little then continued her movement.

A shift in light quality tugged at the edge of her vision and she glanced toward the window again. A dark shadow fell across the window ledge. A looming figure filled the window frame. She swallowed hard pulling her nightgown close to her body and hurrying further into the house.

She headed for the largest room on the lower level of the two-storey building senses on high alert. Glancing warily from side to side, she noticed an open window along one of the hallways, but she didn’t slow to close it. She needed to get further into the colossal mansion. She would be safe then. Safe from whatever was out there…

Someone was out there. She could sense whomever it was without having to see them. Her skin prickled unnervingly as she made her way into the darkened living room. Then she halted heart rate increasing as she heard a sound coming from her left.

A low hiss as if from an exhaled breath filled the room and seemed to envelop her senses. She shuddered and stumbled toward the wall, fumbling in the dark for the light switch. She hit it and soft light filled the huge room. Then she swung round to where she’d heard the noise. There was no one there.

She relaxed and leaned against the wall, breaths slowing. Wiping a hand over her face, she sighed softly, laughing at herself.

“Just imagining things...”

Soft laughter reached her ears as soon as she voiced that thought, then a sibilant hiss deep from inside her mind:

I wouldn’t be too sure of that, sweetheart...

She gasped holding her hand to her throat as a burning pain shot through her heart. Fear gripped her and she dashed for the door entering the dark corridor and racing toward the one sanctuary she knew.

The tiny chapel in the centre of the mansion was the only place she knew that could not be breached by the denizens of the night. Even he would hesitate before breaching the code of sanctity that was set for that place. No matter that, she was one of his ilk; she was still pure of mind and heart, even if her soul had been darkened.

More laughter echoed through her, taunting her as the corridor seemed to get longer by the second. She whimpered as she stumbled along, arms wrapped over her stomach.

Finally, after what felt like hours, but was really only minutes, she reached the enormous double doors that lead to the chapel. She reached out, fingertips brushing the handle. She went to turn it, the latch unlocking.

“Don’t.”

The voice that echoed through the darkness caught her off guard and, allowing her hand to fall from the handle, she sank to the floor clutching protectively at her stomach.

A deep, masculine chuckle slid around her entering her mind as she trembled, pressing into the floor. Silent footsteps approached and the same looming figure she’d witnessed in the window earlier towered above her.

She gazed up at the figure, nostrils flaring. It was male, the levels of testosterone in his blood was overwhelmingly evident; she could almost taste it in the stifling atmosphere that surrounded them.

Sinister shadows obscured his face from her as she cowered against the wall. However, she did not need the light to recognise him. She could smell his blood, sense it pulsing through his veins as he stepped closer to her. His bulky frame blocked out all light. Straightening up so she was standing, she hissed, lip curling, showing a fang. He chuckled, the sound sending shivers down her spine.

“You’re close, aren’t you?”

His deep voice chilled her to the bone. Looking away, she brought her hands to cover the bump beneath her dressing gown. He smirked faintly, teeth flashing in the dark.

“How soon?”

She trembled, breath catching in her throat.

“Days...”

“When?”

His tone was harsh. She shook her head. His hand shot out gripping her throat. She grabbed hold of his muscled forearm, more just to hold him then to try to push him away. His grip tightened.

“When, sweetheart?”

She whimpered as his fingers squeezed on her windpipe, clawing weakly at his skin, absently noting the ink that etched the length of his strong arm. He growled low.

“Tell me...”

“The 9th...”

Her voice wavered desperately. He released her and she slid to the floor pressing her forehead to her knees. There was a rustling above her and then he was right in her face, crouched before her, his breath hot on her flesh.

“Know this, sweetheart...your child belongs to me...he has my blood coursing through his veins...” He chuckled cruelly. “And you know what that means don’t you, sweetheart?”

She trembled but lifted steely eyes to his; his expression concealed behind dark shades. A sudden burst of bravado surfaced from within her soul.

“No. That won’t ever be...you’re a fucking monster. I will not allow you to corrupt our child.”

His laughter was ice-cold. He touched his fingertips to her neck, stroking lightly.

“Oh? And how do you propose to stop me?”

She whimpered.

“I won’t let you near him...”

He sneered, eyes narrowing behind his shades.

“It’s a boy?”

She shuddered turning her face away, knowing she’d given him too much information. He smiled icily.

“Then it’s already too late to stop this...he’ll be as black as the night...”

“No...” She let out a desperate sob. “No...he will not...I won’t allow it...”

He smirked then leaned close to force his lips against hers slowly pressing his tongue into her mouth curling it against her sharp canines. She whimpered clutching at his biceps. He snarled and bit her bottom lip hard, drawing blood. Then he drew back, standing, watching as she winced sucking her bottom lip.

Chuckling he whispered, a deadly promise:

“Do not think that you can hide from me. Wherever you go...I will find you.”

Then he was gone as silently as he had come. Trembling she remained huddled against the wall eventually falling into a deep, yet, troubled slumber.



* * * * *



The next morning found her hurrying through the mansion into the master bedchamber. Blood-red drapes hung around an enormous four-poster bed. She avoided the bed, not even wanting to look at it, afraid of the memories that stirred in her mind. Memories of the night her child was conceived. She had been a virgin. He had not been gentle. Now, she wanted rid of those memories, this life.

Moving quickly, she went to the walk in wardrobe and began to gather her clothes together, grabbing a large suitcase and tossing them inside. She did not have time to worry about making sure they were neatly folded. She planned on leaving and never coming back. She had no idea where she was going to go but she knew she had to find a safe haven for her unborn child.

She paused for a moment as he stirred inside her womb. Placing a palm over her belly, she murmured soothingly.

“Hush…you’ll be okay…” He stilled and she went back to her packing.

Half an hour later she stood in the front hall overstuffed suitcase at her feet. Holding her right hand to her stomach, she gave the huge entrance hall one last glance over. She would miss the place; she was born there after all. However, she knew that she had to get away, find some place safer for her child to be born. After that, she did not know what would happen. Only time would tell.

Lifting her bag, she stepped out through the front door and made her way down the steps to the vehicle waiting to take her away. The chauffeur opened the door for her; she nodded her thanks and slipped inside. As she did, an icy tingle snaked down her spine and the sensation of someone watching her filled her with dread. She turned her gaze toward the hills towering behind her home scanning the horizon; then motioned the chauffeur to close the door.

As it clicked shut and the driver climbed in, starting the car, an overwhelming wave of fury descended upon her. She gasped clutching at her stomach, curling on the seat of the car, whimpering.

“Drive…for mercy’s sake…drive!”

Wild rage surged across the hill, the rain thickening as lightning flashed furiously in the sky. She huddled tighter into herself muttering soft prayers over her unborn child, holding his wrath at bay, wanting to feel even the smallest sense of hope. Yet, knowing that in the end it was useless. She would lose… He would win.

He always did.

Y'know I totally missed this when you posted it, brain must have been asleep when I checked the topics.

I don't know anything about Simple Plan but A7X plus vampires and werewolves? Count me right the hell in

^Lol, it's all good

This is Simple Plan, btw.


L-R: Sebastien, Chuck, Pierre, Jeff, David

Chapter One - We Come Out At Night

Laval, Montreal

May 9th, 2008

Bouvier Residence

8 AM



Pierre yawned, rubbing at his eyes as he wandered into the kitchen of his parents’ house. Louise Bouvier glanced over from the stove where she had several rashers of bacon sizzling in a pan. A soft smile played on her lips as she watched her youngest son sink onto a chair at the table.

“Mmm, that smells nice, Mom.”

He stretched, scratching at his cheek. Then rubbed at his eyes again, feeling a slight itch. Louise noticed and frowned faintly.

“Pierre, if you’ve got sore eyes you should use some drops...”

Pierre blinked. “Nah...I’ll be right, Mom. What’re you cooking?”

She grinned. “What do I usually cook on your birthday?”

He laughed, shaking his head.

“Bacon...as long as you leave the fat on.”

Louise clicked her tongue in mock disapproval. He stood and walked over to stand behind her wrapping his arms around her waist and squeezing gently.

“Thanks, Mom...no one in the world cooks bacon as well as you do.”

“Oh, you. Flattery won’t make it cook faster...”

Pierre just smiled, but then grimaced as his eyes began to water slightly. He rubbed his knuckle into the corner of his eye.

“Merde...Mom, maybe I will use some drops...where are they?”

Louise shot her son a worried look.

“In the fridge, door shelf.”

He went to the fridge and pulled the door open, just happening to catch his reflection in the stainless steel surface. His eyes flashed red before going back to their normal deep brown hue. He blinked hard just managing to stifle his surprised gasp.

What the...? I think I need more sleep...

He had only been home one day from touring with his band; and he was exhausted. That had to explain why he had just seen that flash of colour. Shaking his head, he found the small bottle of saline drops and headed for the bathroom.

The door was locked; he banged on it sharply.

“Jay. Get your ass outta there...” Pierre growled.

A sudden flash of pain shot through his head, between his eyes. He groaned, clutching at his forehead.

“Fuck...”

“Language, son.”

Rèal was walking past at that moment. He forgot his reprimand a moment later when he saw the pained expression on his youngest son’s face.

“Pierre? You alright?”

Pierre rubbed at his eyes furiously.

“Uh...”

He looked up at his father and almost instantly, a wave of cinnamon assaulted his nostrils. He frowned.

“Son?”

Pierre muttered an ‘I’m okay’ under his breath and rushed down the hall to his room. Rèal stared after him then shook his head and made for the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Pierre shut himself in his room leaning back against the door. Breathing deeply he glanced toward the body length mirror on the wall. Meeting the bemused stare his reflection was giving, he took several long breaths.

“Merde...what is wrong with me?”

He smeared a hand over his face. His eyes were beginning to sting. Uncapping the bottle, he tilted his head back and squeezed a drop into the corner of his left eye. Big mistake. Searing pain jolted him and he sank to the floor grasping at his face, moaning.

“Tabernac...”

Squeezing his eyelids together, he tried to massage the pain away, but that just made it worse.

“Fuck...”

The pain was intensifying; his temples throbbed. Curling up on the floor, he buried his head against his knees trying to stave off the wave of white-hot pain that surged behind his eyes. It felt like a burning hot poker shoved right between his eyes into his brain.

Make it stop…make it stop…

What sounded like water whooshing through a pipe filled his ears at that instant and he groaned because all it did was increase the stabbing pain even more.

“Turn the fucking shower off!”

He moaned clutching at his hair, pulling at it hard, even though he knew that was a pretty stupid thing to do. The door to his room slammed open and Jay banged in with a scowl on his face.

“What the hell is your problem, fuck’tard?”

He halted when he saw his younger brother curled in a foetal position on the floor.

“What are you doing down there?”

Pierre didn’t move, but absently noted that the whooshing had gotten louder. He clamped his hands over his ears and almost whimpered a response.

“Make it stop…”

Jay frowned tilting his head.

“Uh…make what stop?”

Pierre groaned, weakly.

“The water…it’s rushing through my skull…make it stop…”

“What the fuck are you on about?”

He stepped closer and nudged his brother with his left foot.

“Get up off the floor…”

Pierre growled low. Jay backed off.

“Jeeze bro…”

He frowned noticing sweat glistening on his younger sibling’s skin.

“Uh…are you okay?”

Pierre snarled in reply, “What the fuck does it look like?”

Jay grimaced at his tone.

“No need to bite my head off…”

“Sorry…”

He pushed up carefully from the floor, holding his palm to his forehead.

“Need an aspirin…my head feels like it’s gonna explode…”

His brother snorted.

“Been partying?”

Pierre shot a baleful glare his way.

“No. Got back from tour yesterday…just fucking tired…”

Jay nodded and moved out of his brother’s way.

“Yeh…well there’s a full pack of aspirin in the bathroom…”

Pierre nodded and stumbled out of his room, the whooshing in his ears now thrumming deep in his body. Making his way into the bathroom, he managed to get to the vanity, but that was as far as he got before the room suddenly appeared to jerk and everything went black.



* * * * *



Toronto

Same time



Sunlight streamed down onto the pavement where two men slouched at a cab rank watching the early morning traffic move along at a snail’s pace.

These two men were like chalk and cheese. One, leaning against the railing that separated the cabstand from the road, was smallish with shorn dark hair, a piercing in his left nostril and soft brown eyes that darted nervously up and down the street. Tattoos of faces adorned his right arm that dangled over the railing.

The other man, much larger than the first, stood propped against a lamp pole. Ink covered the powerful arms that were folded across a broad chest. His expression was concealed behind a pair of dark aviator shades.

“Shadows, sir...”

The smaller male mumbled half under his breath as he kept scanning the street, face tilted slightly upwards.

What the fuck is it now, Christ?

Shadows shot a hard look at the smaller man as he leaned over the railing nostrils flaring slightly. They were waiting outside a hotel for the rest of their gang to surface so they could head to the nearby venue: Avenged Sevenfold, their public face, was to play several shows in Toronto before embarking on a cross Canada tour.

Christ glanced at his master with a slightly confused expression on his face.

“Someone’s hit puberty and not liking it very much…”

Shadows sneered. No one fucking likes it, Johnny. You try being a fucking vamp at puberty…

Johnny Christ winced at his tone.

“I don’t think I want to…going wolf is bad enough…”

The larger male just snorted and looked out across the quiet street. Johnny shifted his weight shoving his hands into his pockets, glancing sideways at the man beside him. Shadows met his look and cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes?”

His physical voice was deep, raspy, an ever-deadly undertone lacing through his words. Johnny swallowed hard.

“You didn’t ask me who it was…”

Shadows laughed.

“Why should I? It’s probably just some random that you caught a whiff of down the street somewhere…”

His laughter stopped when he saw a haunted light flash in the smaller man’s eyes.

“What? Christ?”

Johnny tore his eyes away, Adam’s apple bobbing nervously.

“It’s coming from Montreal…”

Shadows’ brow furrowed.

“What? So?”

Johnny massaged his temples.

“The scent’s strong, Matt...”

Shadows growled.

“Don’t call me that…”

“Sorry, sir…”

He grunted.

“So. Tell me. Who is it?”

Johnny bit his lip. “You remember…her?”

“Who?”

Shadows turned his head to look at the smaller man, sliding his shades down the bridge of his nose, eyes narrowed warningly.

Johnny shivered and rubbed at his arms glancing across to the entrance of the hotel, wishing the guys would hurry up. Shadows gave a low growl.

Who, Christ? Remember, who?

The younger male exhaled harshly.

“Serena.”

Shadows looked away the muscles in his jaw tightening as he clenched his teeth.

That whore...

“She wasn’t-”

Don’t. She dared to defy me.

“It was a long time ago...”

“Twenty-nine years...not such a long time, considering,” Shadows bit out harshly.

He looked across the street once more.

“She was pregnant.”

Johnny nodded slowly, thinking out loud.

“She brought her unborn child...here...to Canada...”

Shadows blinked suddenly realising what he was driving at. His lip curled savagely.

“Her son...” He’s reached that age...

Johnny bobbed his head up and down in the affirmative.

“Yes sir.”

Shadows cast a cold, calculated look his way.

“You have contacts in Montreal City.”

It wasn’t a question.

Johnny slipped a pack of cigarettes from his back pocket, nodding slowly as he removed one and lit up. His master frowned pinching his bottom lip absently.

“Get in touch with them. Find the source...I want her son.”

Shadows looked toward the hotel lips pressed together in a severe line.

Our son... MY son...

Johnny nodded slowly then went back to scanning the street, smoke streaming from his mouth as he sucked at his cigarette.

“Hey, fuckers!”

Johnny perked up and looked back over his shoulder; a tall lanky figure swaggered toward them, clutching a steaming cup of coffee. Shadows’ wrinkled his nose as he pulled out of his thoughts and nodded to the figure.

“Rev…are the others even bothering to show?”

The Rev smirked and tilted his head just as there was a soft pop and the two remaining gang members, both adorned with colourful tatts and matching scowls, appeared.

Shadows growled glancing across the street.

You shouldn’t be doing that here…people might see…

“Ah, don’t get your knickers in a knot, Matt.”

The one who spoke had flickering green eyes; they shifted shades from deep emerald to light hazel depending on his mood. Snakebite piercings adorned his bottom lip, which he sucked on lightly watching for their leader’s reaction.

Shadows glowered at him.

“Shut up, V. And don’t call me that.”

“Jeeze, what crawled up your ass and died?”

The other gang member, sporting a cocked fedora, smirked cruelly. Shadows looked at him.

“I’ll explain later, Syn. We need to get to the arena.”

Synyster Gates grunted.

“I don’t see why we even bother with this fucking charade…”

The Rev laughed.

“Because it’s a fucking ball…”

Shadows smirked, rolling his eyes behind his shades.

“Syn, it’s just a front…and Jimmy’s right, it is fun.”

He turned to Johnny who’d moved a little closer to his side. The larger male stroked the back of his head almost tenderly.

“And pup here has a good time…”

“Oh, yeah…and of course you give a shit what the dog likes.” Synyster sneered menacingly, shooting a brutal stare at the smaller man.

Johnny shrank back. Shadows snarled.

Lay off, Gates. He’s mine…remember that.

Fedora-wearing male backed off and nodded.

“Of course.”

He muttered under his breath, “If I’d had my way…”

Shadows shot a dangerous look at him then swung around from the lamppost and began walking away. Johnny trotted along behind him, holding his body tense not daring to look back as the others trailed behind, silent and watchful.

Yay! Now I can finally catch up on this! xD I was sooooooooo behind.


P.S = Pierre is smexy.

I need to get my ass into gear, sort my fic into chapters and post it, I think you might like it

Ooooooh, yes please Ciara

Chapter Two - Strike!



Laval, Montreal

Bouvier Residence

Same Day

11 AM



“You okay now, bro?”

Jay crouched by Pierre as he sat on the floor clutching a glass of water in his right hand, kneading at his temple with his left.

“Yeah…” He shook his head. “I think so…”

“What the hell happened?”

Pierre shook his head again. “Not sure…just blacked out…”

Jay turned and sat next to him leaning his back against the vanity.

“Maybe you caught something on tour?”

Pierre’s nostrils flared faintly.

“Could be…” He frowned as a light aroma of chocolate floated around him. “Uh…you got chocolate on you?”

His older brother blinked.

“Um, no.” He tilted his head. “You sure you’re fine?”

Pierre grimaced. No…I think I’m going crazy…why the hell am I smelling things…and what the fuck is that whooshing sound?

The sound of liquid rushing through pipes had come back stronger; it appeared to be extremely close, but he had no clue as to what that was. Maybe there was something wrong with his inner ears. He pushed up slowly from the floor, bracing his hands on the vanity. Jay watched him carefully not wanting his younger brother to collapse on him.

“Uh...maybe you should go see a doctor?”

Pierre shook his head. He stopped when he realised that caused his vision to spin.

“Nah, I’ll be right...nothing a little rest won’t cure...” He glanced at the pack of aspirin sitting on the shelf. “Oh...and one of those.”

Jay rolled his eyes as Pierre grabbed the box and emptied one pill into the palm of his hand, tossing it back with the last of the water in the glass.

“I guess we shouldn’t mention this to Mom and Dad?”

Pierre snorted. “Yeah, that’d go down well. Mom would probably make me go to the doc.”

He smeared a hand across his face, and then turned the tap on, splashing water onto his face. Straightening he dried his face on a small towel then turned to exit the bathroom. Jay followed him out scratching at the back of his neck.

“So, what’re you gonna do with yourself?”

Pierre looked back at him and smirked.

“Not much. Chuck might pop round later.”

Jay folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

“You’d think after touring for months together you’d be sick of each other.”

“They’re my only friend’s, Jay. We never get sick of each other...sick of living on top of each other sure...but at least here we can go home and have that time away from each other.”

Pierre scuffed his shoe against the carpeted floor.

“Anyway, touring may be fun...but it’s work. Spending time together at home...it’s purely pleasure.”

Jay chuckled. “Speaking of pleasure, you heard from Chelle?”

Lachelle Farrar was Pierre’s fiancée. They had met at an art gallery opening four years ago; Lachelle was an art student in Toronto and had been hosting an exhibition for one of her school peer’s. During semester, she was in Toronto and kept in touch with Pierre via phone and e-mail. She came home during the festive season and her larger breaks.

Pierre shook his head. “Not yet. I haven’t checked my email since I got back.”

“Uhuh. Well, maybe you should...”

Jay smiled slightly then pushed away from the wall and left his younger brother staring after him in bemusement.


* * * * *



Noon



“Pierre!”

Pierre popped his head out of his room, where he’d holed himself after grabbing a bite to eat.

“Yeah?”

Louise appeared in the hallway purse slung over her left shoulder.

“Your father and I are off to the mall. Do you want us to get you anything?”

Pierre sucked on his bottom lip; a dull pulsing thrummed at the back of his eyes again as a whiff of roses floated towards him. He shook his head.

“Uh...no thanks, Mom...I think I’m all set.”

She smiled, nodding then turned to head out. Jay popped out of his own room as she passed it and caught hold of her purse muttering something to her. Pierre didn’t hear because he had ducked back into his room.

He plopped himself down in front of his desktop computer and switched it on. As it rumbled to life, he frowned as the noises of his parents’ car filtered into his room.

“That’s weird...” He muttered quietly. He stood and went to the window. It was shut tight. He scratched at his head. “Why can I hear the car?” He closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again.

A loud rhythmic buzzing caught his attention then and he turned his head staring at his bag that lay open on his bed.

What the... He walked over and dug around until he pulled out his cell phone, which was vibrating furiously. He glanced at the caller ID and grinned faintly. Flipping it open and sliding back onto his swivel chair, he answered with a slight smirk.

“Hey, Chuck...missed me, eh?”

His best friend and band mate laughed at the other end of the line.

“Yeah, how long has it been, buddy?”

Pierre pretended to think for a moment.

“Um...one night?”

Chuck practically cracked up laughing.

“Fuck, we just can’t get enough of each other.”

Pierre rolled his eyes.

“Indeed. What’s up?”

“Well, I know you’re probably sick of all of us...but David called and said we should go bowling. Bring the girls along too...”

Pierre sucked at his lip and swirled around on the chair, absently noting a fly that was crawling across his desk. Its footsteps sounded like tiny pins tiptoeing in sand. He blinked at that thought and shook his head returning his focus to his phone call.

“Bowling?”

“Yeah, it’s that thing you do with a heavy ball and a set of pins...”

“Hah, you’re so funny.”

“I try...so, you in?”

“Sure...I’ll come along. When were you thinking?”

There was a rustling at Chuck’s end as he was scrounging for something then he answered, voice muffled slightly.

“Uh...in an hour. The old joint in town.”

Pierre shrugged even though his friend couldn’t see him.

“Sounds great. Oh, by the way...I guess I’ll be girlfriendless...Lachelle’s still in Toronto.”

“Right. Of course. Oh well, you could bring Jay.”

“Yeah, like he’s any substitute for my fiancée...”

“He needs to get out of the house...”

Pierre sighed; he knew his friend was right. His older brother had been sick for quite a long time; he’d had non-Hodgkin’s Lymphoma and it had been touch and go there for a while. He was in remission now and Pierre prayed that that was the end of Jay’s illness. Their elder brother, Jon, had visited from Toronto during the past two years wanting to see how his two younger brothers’ were coping. But, with Pierre being away on tour Jay hadn’t left the house much.

“Okay, I’ll bring Jay with...”

“Great. Will see you at one then.”

“Yep, see ya...”

Pierre clicked off his phone and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. Then he glanced at his desk again where the fly was now perched on his computer keyboard, cleaning its front legs. He scowled at it. It flew off with a high-pitched squealing buzz. The sound assaulted his ears and rang for many seconds after the insect had disappeared.

Pierre frowned and wriggled his finger in his ear hole. Then, laughing at himself, he turned to his computer and settled down to read the gazillion emails that he’d left unopened whilst on tour.



Downtown Laval

12:55 PM



Patrick Langlois sat in his car fiddling with the rear-vision mirror. He had only just recently bought the car from a friend and already he had found several things wrong with the vehicle. A dickie mirror was the least of his problems, but right now, it was the easiest to fix.

Sucking on his tongue, he twisted the joint slightly.

“Come on, fucker...” He muttered under his breath as he finally clicked it into place.

“Who you calling a fucker, Pat?” A disembodied voice floated through his open window. He jerked his head around just as Pierre poked his head through the window. Their foreheads collided.

“Ow...” Pat backed up, pressing his hand to his head. “Jesus...”

“Nah, it’s just me.” Pierre grinned, rubbing at his own forehead, but then his nose wrinkled up as a strange scent wafted toward him. “Jeeze...did a dog die in here or something?”

Pat frowned, his own nose wrinkling as a soft hint of caramel assaulted his own senses.

Shit...it’s fuckin’ happening... “Uh. No. Last owner never had a dog.”

“Strange...I swear I can smell a dog...”

Pat rolled his eyes. “Right, of course.” That’s not dog you’re smelling...

Pierre looked at him sharply.

“You sure you haven’t got Stuey hiding in here?” Stuey was Pat’s girlfriend’s French bulldog.

“No. Mare has him.”

“Oh. Well, you coming in?” Pierre tilted his head toward the entrance of the bowling alley. Patrick nodded slowly squinting faintly at his friend.

“Yeah, give me a moment.”

“Okay...just hurry the fuck up, eh?”

He removed his head from the car and ambled across the parking lot to join the others who had just appeared in Pat’s view. Pat shook his head and looked into the rear-vision mirror meeting his eyes in the reflection.

“Great answer, Langlois... ‘right, of course...’ that’s great...” He grumbled angrily to himself. You should’ve just told him the truth... “Right...that’d go down well...not...” Well...it’s not like he doesn’t have his own...issues. “Great, now I’m having a conversation with myself.” Well- “Just be quiet...”

Pat rolled up the window and then got out locking the door and making his way into the bowling alley.



* * * * *



“I call 60!”

“What?” David scowled at Pierre who was standing on one of the chairs a bright pink bowling ball cradled against his chest. The singer chuckled.

“I call 60.”

“What the fuck does that mean?” The bassist looked confused. Pat came up next to him and slapped him on the shoulder.

“He means that you’re gonna lose by 60 points, buster.”

David pouted and glowered at Pierre.

“No way! I’m gonna beat your ass!”

The singer chuckled, bounced off the chair and made for the lane to take his first shot. Pat rolled his eyes and flopped in front of the tiny score monitor watching as the numbers flashed on the screen. As he absently watched his friends’ taking turns to bowl, a tiny tickling sensation tingled at the tip of his nose. He growled under his breath.

Jesus...not now...gimme a break...sorry, Pat...but...um someone’s calling you...fuck off, loser breath...­it’s kinda important...can’t it fuckin’ wait? I’m trying to have some fun for a change...it’s about Bouvier...if it’s about his fuckin’ change...well it’s more than that... what? ­Christ needs to talk to you... Christ? Is he there? He’s just arrived in the City...and he’s pretty damned upset about something. Fuck. Not Shadows? He can’t find- Don’t panic, he doesn’t know. Christ picked up the scent and thought he should contact us. Not now. I need some time... Fine. We’ll give you a couple of days. Then you NEED to see Johnny. Fine, now piss off, you dog.

Pat shook his head to clear it and glanced up just as David went barrelling past and almost slid along the lane crashing into the pins. He watched as Pierre cracked up laughing, clutching at his stomach. He rolled his eyes.

“Jeeze, Pierre...it’s not that funny...”

Pierre glanced over at Pat and smirked.

“What shat in your corn puffs?”

Pat just grumbled and looked back at the screen.

Just you’re fuckin’ puberty setting my nerves on fire... “Nothing. Oh, look. David got a strike for that.”

Pierre got up off the floor and came over, bracing a hand against the back of Pat’s chair.

“Oh, look...he did...fucker...”

Pat snorted and didn’t even bother looking around. However, when he heard a soft groan from behind him, he slowly looked back just as he heard David call out:

“Pierre!” The bassist dropped his ball into the rack and dashed over, just as Pat saw Pierre’s body slide onto the floor, his eyes rolling back into their sockets.

“Fuck...” Pat spun out of the chair so fast he almost sent his brain spinning. He got down on his knees next to his friend’s prone figure. “Fuck...fuck...”

Motherfucker...­What is it, Pat? Pierre blacked out...Not good... Not good? That’s all you can fucking say- you know what, just shut up...I’ll deal with this. Pat blocked off his mind and placed a hand on Pierre’s forehead.

“Pierre...Pierre...”

“What’s that gonna do, Pat?” David was kneeling next to him with a bemused scowl on his face. Pat just grunted.

“We need to get him up.”

“He’s out cold!” David groaned. Chuck came over then, phone in hand.

“Should we call an ambo?”

Pat looked up.

“No. No need.” He looked back down into his friend’s face and slapped lightly at his cheeks. Pierre...wake up... That was enough. Pierre’s eyelids dragged open and he stared into his friend’s bright hazel eyes.

“Did you just...?”

Shh...don’t ask...I’ll explain later. “You okay, bud?”

Pierre blinked at him slowly gathering his thoughts together.

“Did he just what?” David poked his head over Pat’s shoulder. Chuck pulled the bassist away. Pierre rubbed the back of his head.

“Uh...I think I just fainted, eh?”

Pat nodded slowly. “Yeah. Any idea why?”

Pierre bit his bottom lip. “Don’t know...but it’s the second time it’s happened...”

Great... Well, of course this is the second fucking time...the first was when Christ sensed the change... That makes sense... Pat ran his fingers through his hair.

“You think you’re gonna be okay?”

The singer grimaced.

“I think I need to see a doctor...”

“No!” Pat blurted out before realising. His friend gave him a weird look. He sighed. “I mean...are you sure you need to? You seem fine, now.”

Pierre rolled his eyes. “I doubt blacking out twice in one day is normal...”

Not for a healthy human...but he’s not a human...he’s a fuckin’- Just shut up, okay? I know what he is. Yeah, right...Anyway, the doctor won’t find anything wrong with him...Then just let him go...no big deal. Hah, glad someone thinks so...

Pat sighed. “Okay, you want me to drive you?”

Jay, who had been just sitting watching everyone, glanced over.

“I’ll drive Pierre’s car back.”

Pierre nodded to him.

“Thanks bro.” He turned his eyes back to his friend. “And, thanks, Pat. Might be an idea...”

Pat stood and helped the singer onto his feet.

“Okay...let’s go.” He waved to the others. “Sorry, guys...you’ll just have to go on without us.”

David pouted, “No fun...”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “Well, you might beat me at any rate...”

The bassist giggled, grabbing his bowling ball and making for the lane. Pierre and Pat both rolled their eyes and left the alley in silence, neither male noting the intense heaviness that settled in the atmosphere above. There was a storm coming and no one knew it.

Oooh, intriguing, liking this so far, glad you updated it again!

I'd seriously forgotten I'd even posted this here, that's why I hadn't updated lol. This story is actually now complete so I can post whenever

Chapter Three - What's up doc?

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.