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That first night he saw Severen, he was a hideous presence looming over Caleb, and he seemed boundless. A black leather maniac with endless miles of tarry road ahead of him.
He seems so much smaller now.
Whenever Jesse tells him no, he slinks back like a kicked dog. It means he turns around and comes after Caleb twice as hard as usual.
Caleb never had an older brother, but he saw enough of the same shit between his friends and the older boys in their families to recognize the situation for what it is. So when Severen’s stubbing out cigarettes on the collar of Caleb’s only good jacket, or pissing on his boots, or distracting Mae when Caleb has been trying to get her alone all night, Caleb thinks: I fuckin’ see you, bitch.
It helps that Mae is smug about him. She parades him around, enjoying the freshness of him compared to the others, who are old fuckin' news. It burns Severen up, but he can’t do anything about it now, because Caleb’s over the hump and hunting with the rest of them. The rules are clear about that kind of thing.
Two nights after Caleb’s first kill, they pick up a new van. It’s a luxury RV that had been languishing on some used car lot in Bumfuck, Kansas. Severen is the best at hotwiring, so he snags it for them and reaps the rewards: a smattering of praise from Jesse, which Caleb is sure he’ll live off for weeks.
The new van has couches, bunk beds, and a master bedroom. Homer claimed the top bunk immediately, so Severen settles in below, across the way from where Mae and Caleb are curled together on the pullout couch bed. Severen falls asleep right away, body in a loose sprawl.
With the jacket and boots off, it's easier to see the traces of the man he used to be. His shoulders are pale and soft without the leather armor and plastering of police badges.
Severen is obsessed with the way things are supposed to be. Some mysterious code of vampire honor, comes from who-knows-where. Mae, at least, has a mind of her own. Sometimes Caleb isn’t so sure about Severen.
Now and then, Caleb gets a few blissful days with Mae, and he has the chance to feel the way he always thought being a young man would feel. Nothing was ever entirely right, when he was human. The experience never measured up to his expectations. He was always too weak, chasing after some girl, trying unnaturally hard to impress the guys at the bar. Nothing was easy. But with Mae, he feels young and powerful and the night wraps around them like a lover.
Diamondback and Jesse mostly let them enjoy the honeymoon, their fondness for Mae winning over their wariness of Caleb. Homer glares and throws cigarette butts and wadded up straw wrappers. Maybe his disgust is part performance; Caleb tries not to think about what Homer thinks or feels.
Their lives revolve around food and finding a place to wait out the sun, and those needs drown out everything else. Tonight, Jesse has told them they’re going to follow a family on a road trip and drain them. He spotted them at a fast food joint, a sweet little group packed into a deluxe RV.
The girl’s face is familiar: Caleb has seen it somewhere, or one just like it. They must be famous, or rich, or something, and that means unwanted attention , right?
“Jesse, I think that girl is on TV. I mean, look at them. Look at their car. Shouldn’t we just leave that alone? This is asking for trouble.”
Jesse scoffs and turns to face him. “Boy, I hope I haven't given you a false impression of our vulnerability. Look at us . We have survived garroting, bullet wounds, and hell, even a stake to the heart. That family is ours, and there's nothing anybody can do about it.”
Diamondback smiles admiringly at him, says, "This is what we do."
Severen is sitting calmly at the table, running a finger along the pointed spur ends on his boots. He looks up at Caleb thoughtfully.
“Come on a walk with me, boy,” Severen says, and Caleb feels hunted again. Stupid. It’s stupid, because Caleb is done with being fresh meat. In a group full of vampires, it gets old quick.
Caleb nods, though, because what else can he do? Despite himself, he always wants to see what Severen is going to do.
This time, he just lets Caleb talk, maybe trying to give him enough rope to hang himself.
Caleb doesn't pull any of the poetic shit Mae loves: touching the ground, looking at the night, letting the sounds wash over them. He just blathers on about the other people staying at the motel, the girls who stared at him as he passed by the pool.
Finally, Severen spits it out. His reason for dragging Caleb out here. “Do you think it’s right to question the man who takes care of you?”
Caleb has never been more confused. “Who, you?”
“Not me. Jesse .” He hisses the name, balling up his fists. "He makes sure we all have a place to sleep and food to drink. Keeps us from killing each other. Keeps our heads on straight, which let me tell you, after you've lived through a century or two, it takes work."
“So, brother, I’m asking you nicely,” Severen says, the start of a mean smile stealing across his face. “Back off, huh?” He steps into Caleb's personal space, making him move back and back until Severen has him against the rough stucco of the motel. Severen’s eyes are wide and wild, and some vestigial instinct in Caleb wants to look down, look away. He can’t do that or Severen will fuck him six ways to Sunday.
“I know you won’t fuckin’ do anything unless Jesse gives the okay,” Caleb spits. “You’re his goddamn dog.”
Severen gives a soft little laugh, different from the way he does it when everyone is together. “Who says I’m not rabid? How much can anyone control a dog?” Severen’s eyes flick back and forth over Caleb’s face, and he must find something, because his big mouth is stretching further across his face.
“I guess you can’t always. Sometimes you gotta put ‘em down.” Caleb thinks back to the steel of the vet’s office, the bad smell in the summer and the parts of the business they had to hide from Sarah.
"Careful, kid. Better watch your mouth." Caleb’s shoulder grinds against the wall.
Caleb laughs. "You know that didn't hurt."
"I could make it hurt, if I wanted. That's a promise." His eyebrows are twin arches leaping off his forehead and the tip of his tongue sticks out from between his teeth.
He’s putting on the wild man, and the display is supposed to scare Caleb, but it’s doing something else. He wants more of this. More physical contact, more of Severen swanning around, and more of his bluster. He wants Severen to chase him into bed, he realizes: a crazy fucking thought.
Severen keeps him pinned there for minutes, the two of them staring, panting, until finally he lets go and Caleb slides down the wall about an inch and Severen watches.
“We got work to do,” Severen says finally, no trace of the wild man or the grin. “C’mon.”
The entire family goes down easily. Jesse was right about the path they'd take, and they all follow his lead when they get to the rest stop. The family is lounging by their car, close to it but not inside.
Mae stops them first, says hello and asks if they’ve seen her brother around, she’s worried sick. The mother is dismissive, says something short and sharp Caleb can’t quite hear from where he’s watching.
But the father is taken by small, beautiful Mae with her dirty shirt and sad eyes. He asks her what she needs and Mae pitches her voice up an octave, feminine and distressed, which makes him put a hand on her shoulder.
Mae’s job is to separate the family, and the patriarch disappears with her behind the Visitor Center at the rest stop. Last month, Caleb would have worried about her alone with a man. Now he knows better.
They wait for the mother to get angry and follow before they wander up to the two kids left alone. It takes her twenty minutes. Severen goes first, because he has a more natural touch with children he’s about to slaughter. They like his smile.
These two aren’t really children. They’re teenagers, only a few years younger than Mae looks. Still, they’re interested in Severen, who’s wearing his heavy jacket even in the heat, and looks like he stepped out of a movie or a poster or some other fantasy.
Homer comes out too, while they’re distracted, and these polished, pampered teenagers look at him with open distaste. He kills the girl first. The boy tries to run, but Severen’s got an arm around his neck, and it’s all over.
Caleb is closer to Severen, and he knows Homer doesn’t share, so he takes an experimental step forward. Severen is making disgusting slurping noises and groaning as he enjoys himself, and it's hard to fucking bear. Does Severen even fuck, he wonders, or is this all that does it for him.
Severn stops drinking long enough to notice him staring and make eye contact. He looks almost welcoming, which is enough to draw Caleb closer. Severen has the neck, but Caleb takes an arm.
Once his teeth break the skin, his awareness narrows down to the blood seeping into his mouth. It’s like Severen isn’t even there, for a moment: it’s as peaceful as feeding alone. As they both take their fill, though, he rests a hand on Caleb’s shoulder, and he slides it up to cup the back of Caleb's head, grabbing a fistful of his hair. Little pinpricks of pain tingle over his scalp and shoot down his spine.
Caleb stops drinking to gasp at air he doesn’t need. He’s panting, his harsh breaths punctuating the air at the empty rest stop. Severen drinks a little more before dropping the corpse and saying, “Got cold.” He looks hard and long at Caleb, trying to sniff something out. Whatever it is, he still seems unresolved when they get to work on the dismemberment.
It's the first time they have a meal together.
---
They’re at that motel for another few nights and Severen avoids even looking his way. Stuck within the room, time slows to a crawl and the group gets hungry and testy. This room has no TV, doesn't even have a shower. Sitting around and waiting never gets any easier.
Jesse gathers them all the next night, right before as the sun comes up, because Severen has something to share with all of them.
"I was invited to a wedding tonight," Severen tells them. "This girl told me her cousin is getting married not too far from here. Told her I work the night shift and I might not make it. But then she says there's a midnight wedding reception."
Jesse gives him a dangerous grin, and it turns his gaunt face into a jack o’lantern. “Well, where is it, son?”
“Down the street.” Severen actually laughs, giddy and almost sweet.
“This is good, Sev. We haven’t had a moment like this in a couple weeks. Gives us a chance to put him through his paces,” he says, looking at Caleb.
Diamondback says, “It’s about time for him to start pulling his own weight around here.”
Caleb is starting to understand that entertainment is just as important to them as staying fed. Television doesn’t do much for them, and what the hell else are they supposed to do? Join a fuckin’ book club? A sewing circle?
“We gotta get ready,” Diamondback says, her eyes lighting up. “Homer, I’m gonna get you into a decent outfit if it kills me.”
“It just might,” he grumbles, which makes Caleb laugh.
Severen talks strategy with Mae about how maybe they can grab a few of the wedding presents on their way out. Not every night is as indulgent as the night at the bar. But they take their wins where they can get them.
They hook up an outdoor shower rig to get the stench of death and dirt out for the occasion, because the motel doesn’t have one. From the look and smell of them, Caleb assumed they never even bothered. But he watches Severen set up the bucket of water and wrap the spray nozzle around a tree branch, and he’s clearly done this before.
They're out in the desert, surrounded on all sides by sandy soil and scrub brush and the occasional cacti. Even at midnight, the air is warm as a blanket.
Caleb is jolted out of his daydream by a heavy bundle of fragrant leather smacking him in the face. A zipper catches the corner of his mouth, hard enough that he tastes pennies. He locks eyes with Severen, who is currently shimmying out of his pants. It takes a lot of bouncing and muscle-flexing, and saliva floods Caleb's mouth as he tugs them down to his thighs past dark curls and the soft place between his legs.
"Are you just gonna watch me, or are you getting' in here?" Severen demands.
"What?"
"There's only so much water I can carry, boy, and it ain't enough for each of us to have a spa day." He stands there crossing his arms over his bare chest and acting all impatient as Caleb holds back laughter.
"Strip," he commands, raising his eyebrows like Caleb's dumb.
Caleb hurries to do it. It'll feel good to get clean again after a few days of stewing in the van.
He's been so distracted by blood and new types of urges that he hasn't thought about sex in days. He remembers all about it when he walks over to where Severen is gleaming in the moonlight.
Severen pumps the hose setup and water comes raining down on them. It's sun-warmed and the same temperature as blood as it soaks them both, and Caleb watches rivulets make their way down Severen’s chest, getting caught in his hair.
“Got any soap?” Caleb asks, because he sure doesn’t.
Severen grins. "I get first use," he says, and rubs it over his balls. Caleb has been trying to avoid looking, but now he can't. Severen is washing himself thoroughly, with a smirk Caleb doesn't like. He works a hand over himself in a way that would be sexual in any other context, if his smile were any friendlier.
Caleb tries to stop staring and instead focus on wetting his hair and scrubbing his scalp. There might be blood caked there.
Severen tosses him the soap. Caleb almost thanks him for it, until he sees dark curls of pubic hair embedded in the waxy surface. He watches Caleb delightedly as he grunts in disgust and scrapes them away.
That brief shower's not enough to get Severen smelling nice , exactly, but his hair is soft and a good four shades lighter than Caleb had thought. The motel bedside lamp catches reddish highlights that must have been there all along. With all the grease, it looked almost black.
He looks soft and normal and touchable. Caleb wants his mouth on him, whatever way he'll be allowed. He's not sure they do sex the way he thinks of it, though. His time with Mae has mostly been chaste. No privacy to really give things a try beyond some kissing and touching.
Mae is already dressed and gorgeous in a satiny pink dress. Caleb tries not to think about where she got it. She's waiting by the door, helping Homer get his tie straight.
Severen doesn't have his shirt on yet. He's lounging back in the bed and his pants are biting into the meat of his sides and belly just slightly. It's making Caleb hungry. Severen seems to sense it, somehow, because he takes his time getting his things together and shoots Caleb looks the whole time.
“Help him get dressed,” Mae says, ever eager to make Caleb useful. She thinks it’s helping him fit in. "You're the only one who's civilized here, so why don't you do his tie and comb back his hair.”’
Caleb can't understand why this is all falling to him except as some kind of punishment. Severen finally slips on his white shirt, but he lets Caleb do the buttons up for him. “Go on,” he says, jerking his chin up. “Make me respectable.”
Caleb wraps the black tie around his neck. He holds the tension for a second as he loops the tie over itself and remembers the biker in the bar, his hands around Severen's neck. Caleb is a lot stronger than that man would’ve been. If anyone could do this, it’s him. The fabric digs into his hands, which must mean he’s holding it too tight. He tugs the knot closer and closer around Severen’s neck, and he can feel the tie constrict around the bones and muscle, tighter than anyone would ever wear.
Severen must be thinking the same thing, because he sets a hand on the back of Caleb’s neck and says, “I’m not that easy to get rid of. You know that.” Severen brings their faces closer, then knocks their foreheads together. When he exhales, his breath smells like rust.
Severen isn't warm, but he gives off an undeniable presence. There's a chilly electricity between them. Caleb’s fingertips are hypersensitive to the woven texture of his shirt, his hair, the smooth skin behind his ear that he brushes accidentally. The cool touch of his skin is still a shock.
Caleb lets the tie go slack so it fits normally again. Unfortunately, it looks sexy on Severen even when he’s not on the verge of being strangled and bruised.
“Thank you, darlin’,” he says. He holds Caleb’s eyes a moment longer than normal and winks, and it’s just about bowling him over with desire and fear.
---
Overhead, the sky is teal with a dark ring of indigo bleeding closer and closer to the horizon. It’s the earliest they’ve been out in weeks. Ahead of them is the reception, all lit up with strings of lights that glint off big aluminum tubs filled with ice and beer. The people look happy and buzzing and filled with a vitality that’s utterly foreign to Caleb, now. He’s hollow and fragile, like a paper wasp's nest.
Or maybe just hungry, a voice drawls inside his head.
“I’m starved,” Severen says. He looks almost normal in this getup, except around the eyes.
“You’re always starved ,” says Homer. “You big goddamn lug. Try to leave some for the rest of us.”
Jesse is whispering something in Diamondback’s ear. Caleb envies their decades together, wishes he could think of a goddamn thing to say except, I’m scared. Mae soothes a thumb over his palm just then, like she can hear him. He kisses her wrist where her pulse should be.
The night is dark, and it’s late, and Caleb didn’t even consider that kids would be there. Thinking back to every wedding he’s ever been to, it’s obvious. But he hears high-pitched shrieks and giggles, and it’s like ice water in his guts.
Severen must have some kind of special sixth sense for fucking Caleb up, because he throws a casual arm around his shoulder that feels like a vice grip.
“You’re gonna enjoy yourself tonight, aren’t you?” he breathes. “Find yourself a girl. Leave the adult work to the rest of us.” His breath is cold, and that distracts Caleb enough for him to form and vocalize a thought.
“We can’t do this,” Caleb says desperately. He sounds weaker every day, like he’s being washed away.
“We will.” Mae is telling him, now, gently but firmly. “It’s the way things have gotta be.”
Jesse is ignoring him, because he’s being boring and a baby and barely a vampire. His hand rests at his hip, though, where Caleb knows he has a gun. He knows from experience that’s not enough to take him down for good, but he would still feel the pain.
“Don’t scare these people,” Jesse says. “You’ll ruin all their chances at once. The way it is now, some could still survive. The night is young. Maybe some folks will leave before the party really starts."
Homer disappears to the kids’ table, which is laid out prettily with tiny lacy cakes and little sandwiches and brownie squares dusted with sugar. Petit fours, Caleb thinks, and remembers Sarah. He hasn’t thought about her in days.
The people in the crowd look so normal. If he touched them, could they fix him? If he drank from them, could he feel happy again? He doesn’t feel happy anymore. He feels sated , like the six-foot python Mr. Gibson brought to Caleb’s father a few months before Caleb left town for good. One of his last memories in the vet’s office is watching that big, dozy snake blink its eyes after feeding time.
There’s music playing, and Caleb recognizes it from the bars and dance halls back home. It must be getting old by now, last season’s song.
Severen keeps him dancing, and soon Mae is there too. The first bite from Severen, he barely feels: surgical precision, needle-sharp teeth, he could let Sev do this all day if he needed to. The world goes fuzzy, and he has just enough of his wits about him to murmur, “That ain’t fair, Sev,” before Mae leaves her mark on his collarbone, just above his heart. He dissolves into giggles, and Mae and Severen are laughing too, beautiful round bubbles of laughter that swaddle him like a cloud.
He doesn’t even notice that they’ve led him away and laid him down until they’re leaving; lying there feels about as good as being twirled around by the two most beautiful people he’s ever seen. Caleb hasn’t felt this good in a long time, maybe years. The night unspools quickly as he lies there consumed by thoughts of Severen and Mae and the lives they’re gonna live together.
He nestles into the ground where he’s lying, but it shifts beneath him precariously. Sitting up takes all his focus, but he does it, and realizes he’s in a pile of firewood. This side of the house is dark, casting shadows everywhere. When he rounds the corner, the light is blinding and so is the view.
Each table is piled high with bodies, stacked carelessly like slabs of meat. The children’s table is out of view, but there’s an inauspicious trail of wispy, shredded white cotton on the ground. Homer is nowhere in sight. Nor Mae, nor Jesse or Diamondback.
Severen, though, is there. He’s always there. Stretched out on the sweetheart table, knocking over wine glasses, dirty boots smearing the linens.
“You left me lying in a pile of firewood.”
“If anything went wrong, you could pass for drunk, which could buy you a little time. Mae’s idea.”
“What are you doing?”
“Relaxing. Don’t I look good like this?” He’s blood-drunk, leaning his head back, grinning like someone just handed him an award.
“I guess you do.” Caleb staggers forward and finds a chair before his legs give out.
He looks around, finds he doesn’t especially like what he sees, but he’s hungry. It’s the smell, he realizes. That iron-rich tang, the one he associates now with Severen, messy eater that he is. He learned it from Mae first, but they don't eat together anymore because Caleb needs to learn to feed on his own.
Behind Severen, there’s a child crawling slowly along the ground. There’s a trail of blood behind it, but it’s going steadily. Like it might actually get away.
“Sev,” he says weakly. “Missed one.” He nods his head in the direction, and Severen jumps to his feet on the table, hand flying to his gun.
“Oh,” he says when he spots the issue, “Sugar, that’s no problem at all. Let me get him for you.” He climbs down and bounds over. The child struggles a little at being picked up, but Severen gives a quick nip and then there’s no more movement.
Too soon, he’s back in front of Caleb. “You haven’t eaten yet, have you?”
“I can get something else,” says Caleb, although he’s finding all his reasoning distant and less important than it ever has been. He shifts under Severen’s scalding gaze.
“No, you’ll eat what I put in front of you,” he says gruffly. “C’mon. It’s still good, fresh.” The kid is as limp as a doll; easy to dehumanize.
“Don’t wanna,” Caleb says, looking up at him. “Fuck.”
“Here,” says Severen, and he guides the small neck to Caleb’s mouth. There’s already torn skin there, and blood smears richly against his lips. It’s over then, and Caleb suckles hungrily until the blood in his mouth runs cold.
There’s no clarity after feeding, only a bubbly euphoria and an unwillingness to do difficult things.
“Get this away from me,” he says of the little figure dressed in its best clothes.
“Always wanting someone to do the dirty work,” Severen murmurs. He swipes his fingers over Caleb’s mouth, then sucks them. “I barely got a taste.”
But he moves the body far away and comes back to settle in Caleb’s lap.
“Any more where that came from?” he asks, leaning close, and Caleb nods and opens his mouth. Severen slides his tongue in, searchingly, seemingly really chasing the last droplets Caleb so greedily swallowed. Not just a line, then.
They keep going until all Caleb can taste is Severen, the indistinct flavor of cigarettes and spite and yes, several people’s blood. Caleb’s dizzy and hard and Severen flexes his thighs around him. When they break apart, Severen slides to the ground in front of his lawn chair, and Caleb can see the rest of the party again. The carnage.
All that white cloth, ruined. It's a damn shame.