Ties Stronger Than Blood

center>Chapter Two

David knew when the sun touched the horizon--he could feel the approaching darkness. He hung quietly, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed, waiting. When he was human he'd enjoyed the last, lazy few minutes before he had to get up, and that hadn't changed. It was just that getting up now involved dropping down from his roost instead of climbing out of bed.

The rim of the sun sank behind the dark landline, the last wash of crimson and gold fading quickly into the deep blue that preceded full night, and David opened his eyes. For a moment he just hung there, getting a feel for the evening. His feet were hooked over a sturdy exposed beam, ankles bent at an angle that would have been impossible for a human. He cocked his head, listening. Dwayne and Paul's chosen lair was nearby, just off this larger chamber. Sometimes the sounds of their lovemaking inspired David to restlessly roam the halls of the hotel's subterranean ruins. He knew that if he just went to them he would be welcomed, but...

*But they should have time alone. They're a couple, and much as they love me, I'd be a third wheel.*

David sighed, then let himself drop, plummeting headfirst toward the rubble strewn floor. He flipped in mid-air, landing neatly on his feet. As his boots struck the ground, Paul and Dwayne emerged from the darkened hallway behind him. David took his leather duster off the chair where he'd left it that morning. As he donned it he said, "Good evening, brothers. Sleep well?"

Paul chuckled. "Like the dead."

Dwayne groaned good naturedly, slapping at his lover in punishment for the hoary joke. David smiled faintly. It might make his loneliness seem more acute, but he couldn't begrudge the others' closeness. It did his heart good to see people he cared about loving, and being loved. "I think they're getting ready to have some sort of thing over at the stage on the boardwalk in the next couple days. Let's hit the road and scope it out." They made their way through the darkened hulk, emerging into the warm, clear night. Paul and Dwayne continued to joke and jostle as they made the long climb up the cliff's side. At the top they walked their bikes out of the stand of brush that concealed them during the day, and mounted up.

David noticed Dwayne happily stroking his bike, and smiled to himself. The bike had been seized to cover debts, along with the rest of Dwayne's deceased stepfather's estate, and the boy had despaired of ever seeing it again. Max had told Dwayne he should just resign himself to getting a different bike, once Max could afford it. The bike was slated to be sold at auction, and since none of them could attend during the day...

David and Paul had noticed how disappointed Dwayne was. The next night they'd paid a visit to the impound yard. The security guard was unconscious for close to two days, and had a very confused tale to tell when he finally awoke--something about monsters with claws and fangs. Since he'd tested negative for alcohol and drugs, his superiors decided the confusion was from the head injury, and gave him a medical leave instead of a suspension. The only thing that saved his ass was the fact that the high-end sports cars they were counting on for a good sale had been left alone. They couldn't say for sure that nothing was missing, since the paper records had been shredded, and the office computer had disappeared. They just counted themselves lucky that no one had backed up a car carrier and taken off with a couple of hundred dollars worth of future budget. The look on Dwayne's face had been worth the tantrum Max had pitched about their 'reckless disregard for caution'.

David's mood lifted a little on the trip into Santa Carla. He couldn't help but be cheered, what with the other two boys racing and playing 'cycle tag', laughing and urging each other on. They were both so different now from how they had been when David had first seen them. Paul--his rough time on the streets hadn't yet dimmed his golden good looks, but he was skittish--wary--as if expecting a blow at any moment. He didn't belong anywhere, and he knew it--the world had made it abundantly clear. Dwayne--sullen and quiet, but with raw pain and near despair gazing out of his dark eyes. Now...

They weren't 'normal'. They're kind could never be what the rest of the world thought of as normal and balanced, but they didn't want to be. That part of society had never done them a bit of good. They embraced their inner demons, and found strength. They embraced each other, and found hope, and the closest thing to peace that either had ever known--a reason to go on.

David wanted that. He'd wanted it for a long time. For a few brief months he thought he might have found it with Paul, but then they'd met Dwayne, and he couldn't be unhappy about that. He loved Dwayne as much as he loved Paul, but Paul and Dwayne loved each other just a little more than they loved David. He could deal with that. It was as it should be, but he still felt the decades old emptiness, and he was still looking for something to fill it.

The boardwalk was busy, the Friday night crowds thick. They parked, and went first to Max's video store. It wasn't as if they were eager to see him, but they all knew that it was just easier to check in early, and avoid irritating the master vampire.

Max was in the back room checking inventory when they arrived. He glanced over at them, nodding. "Boys. Any special plans for tonight?"

David shrugged. "No. We had a pretty full evening yesterday." They'd found a nest of vagrants on a remote section of beach and had feasted. They wouldn't really feel any hunger pangs for another day or so.

Max nodded, checking something off on a clipboard. "Did you clean up after yourselves?"

David was glad Max had his back turned--he missed the blond boy's look of irritation. "Don't we always?"

Max gave him a sharp look, but said mildly, "It never hurts to emphasize good habits, David."

The clerk came to the storeroom. "Mister Graforlok, there's someone here that wants to speak to you."

"Excuse me, boys." They stood aside to let him pass, then followed him back into the store. The clerk indicated a trio of people standing at the counter--a man, woman, and boy. Max smiled as he walked toward them, and David knew that the elder vampire had already labeled them 'happy family'. "Good evening." He offered his hand first to the woman, then to the two men. "Max Graforlok. What can I do for you?"

The woman, a severely handsome woman in her mid-fifties, dressed in sober, modest clothes, said, "It's what we can do for you, brother. We're here to offer you a chance to help in the lord's work."

Max's smiled didn't waver, but David could see the skin around his eyes tighten. "Really?"

The man was holding a sheaf of papers. When the woman looked at him, he handed one to Max. While Max was studying it, Paul and Dwayne wandered over, flanking the group. The woman gave them suspicious looks, and was answered by angelic smiles. Dwayne crooked his fingers at the man, lifting an eyebrow as he nodded at the fliers. The man's smile seemed genuine, if a bit awkward, as he handed over a paper. Paul and David immediately moved to drape an arm over either of Dwayne's shoulders, and they leaned in to look at the flier.

It was a simple affair. There was a fairly good picture portrait at the top of a trio of people--these people, they noticed. The legend underneath said THE TALLMADGE TRAVELING GLORY SINGERS. Beneath it, in smaller print, it identified the trio as Father John, Mother Ruth, and Mark--'the fourth generation of Tallmadge to spread God's word through the wonder of music, and the glory of The Word.'

Dwayne looked up at his brothers, smirking, and Paul grinned, rolling his eyes. But David elbowed them both, and studied the boy, who was standing a couple of steps behind his elders. Now that he looked, Mark was older than he'd first thought--probably seventeen or eighteen. He looked younger, though. That picture must have been taken a couple of years ago, before he'd started his push toward manhood. He still had the soft blond curls and large brown eyes, and his features were still a little too delicate to be considered 'macho'--but planes and angles were starting to emerge from the adolescent softness, and his body was compact, but muscular--definitely a man's body.

The boy's eyes were wandering, scanning the brightly colored video boxes with clear hunger, and something akin to awe. Their eyes met, and David grinned at him. Mark looked startled, dropping his eyes immediately. But after a second he looked up tentatively. David nodded, and was rewarded with a tiny smile, a bare curving of the boy's almost delicately shaped mouth.

David was aware that the woman had continued talking. "As you can see, we'll be holding a revival here Sunday, Monday, and Wednesday. This is sure to bring hundreds of decent, God-fearing people to this boardwalk. I assume that this is a family store?"

Max looked a little non-plussed. The adult section was off in the back corner, but it was clearly marked. The woman was keeping her eyes resolutely turned away from it. "Yes, I certainly aim to be."

"Then you should let your community know that you support wholesome entertainment."

"I'll be happy to put one of your fliers up in our window."

She nodded. "Now, we also put advertising on our nightly programs, for a very reasonable donation. We have special rates for our brethren who wish to support our evangelical efforts, and..."

David had to force down a chuckle at the trapped look on Max's face. He drifted toward the door, with Dwayne and Paul following. As he passed Mark, he touched his arm, and tipped his head toward the door, inviting him along. Mark hesitated, but Father John had noticed the interaction. He silently poked the boy, gesturing for him to go along. Mark gave him a grateful smile and went out onto the boardwalk with the other boys.

They moved a few yards down, out of sight from the video store's windows, then stopped, and all stared at each other. David made the introductions, jerking a thumb at each boy in turn. "I'm David, and this is Paul, and Dwayne. You're Mark, right?"

The boy's face tightened. "No."

"No?" David took the flier from Dwayne, examining it more closely. He held it up next to Marko and made a point of looking between them.

"No." Marko said firmly. "My real name is Marko Blackman. Mark Tallmadge is just what my grandmother decided to call me." He hesitated, then said bitterly, "She wasn't too happy with my mother's choice of husband."

The Lost Boys all exchanged looks. They were familiar with family troubles. "Bummer," said Paul.

"Yeah," agreed Dwayne. "So, Marko--are you, like, a star, or something?"

Marko smiled. "Hardly. We don't fill arenas or concert halls. We're just a working class gospel group. Mother Ruth is always trying to scrounge a recording deal, but no one has bitten so far. We do sell our own tapes and CDs at each performance, though. She goes around to every Christian broadcasting station she can find, pushing free copies on them, and I think we get a little airplay now and then. No one can make her understand that even though Elvis and Kristopherson had huge gospel hits, they probably wouldn't have if it wasn't for their secular success."

"So why don't you sing regular music?" asked Paul.

Marko's smile faded. "It's complicated. I still have to live with my grandparents." He paused, then spoke a thought he'd been having for the last year. "For another few months, anyway."

David eyed him speculatively. "About the rock n' roll--Grandma doesn't approve?"

"Mother Ruth thinks that Pat Boone endangered his immortal soul by singing Hey, Good Lookin'."

"Ouch," said Dwayne mildly. "So I suppose you don't get many chances to cut loose?"

"You suppose right."

David lounged back against the building, lighting a cigarette. "You're going to be in the area for a few days, right?" He offered the pack to Marko.

Marko gave him a 'you must be kidding' look. "No, thank you. I already have a headache from the long drive here--I don't need any more chastisements." He didn't notice the angry understanding in Dwayne and Paul's expressions. "And yes. We're performing through Wednesday. After that, we're taking a couple of weeks break, but that'll be eaten up with practicing and making new arrangements, promotion, stuff like that."

"How come you're not in school?" asked Dwayne, curious.

"I'm home schooled--I have been since I was about ten. I think I could have passed the GED a long time ago, but Mother Ruth won't let me take it. I'm pretty sure she thinks I'll start getting independent if I have a diploma, and she's not about to give up a scrap of control."

"That sucks," said Dwayne. "You need to hang around here with us, man." He smiled. "We're great at promoting rebellion."

Marko had to return the smile. "You're the people Mother Ruth has warned me about."

"Maybe so," agreed David, "but we're a lot of fun. I second Dwayne. We're here at the boardwalk most nights. Come over and we'll show you around. Where are you staying?"

Now Marko looked troubled, even alarmed. "It wouldn't be a good idea to come around there."

"Why?"

As if in answer, they heard Mother Ruth's voice raised. "Mark? Mark! Where are you, boy?" She stepped out onto the boardwalk, eyes searching. When she spotted the little group, her expression froze, and Marko almost flinched. David felt a cold stillness settle into his stomach when he saw the apprehension on the boy's face. "What have I told you about consorting with such people? By your company shall ye be known, boy. Filth rubs off."

If she'd been trying to anger the boys, it didn't work. Paul just raised Dwayne's arm high, snuggling his face into his leather-clad pit and sniffing deeply. He came up, saying, "She's right, D. I toldya to use Dial."

Ruth's face flushed a dangerous brick red, and her voice was grating. "Get over here!"

Marko gave his new friends an apologetic look. But before he turned away he whispered, "Look for the bus. Can't miss it."

"Boy!"

"Yes, ma'am. Just trying to bear witness, Mother Ruth," he said as he trotted toward her. "You always tell me that we must bear witness at every chance."

"Well, do it by example--don't talk to them!" she snapped, grabbing his wrist. "John! Leave some of those fliers and come on. There's a whole string of places yet to visit." She marched past the Lost Boys, keeping a firm grip on Marko, with John in their wake.

Paul watched as they turned into the Frog's comic store, and almost immediately came back out. "What do you think?" he said. "Was it the kids' pseudo-militia look that ran them out, or the parent's obviously Satanic hippie background?"

"Who knows?" David tossed the cigarette to the boards, grinding it out. He nodded after the retreating trio. "But I have a feeling that even if the people he's with consider themselves Heaven bound, Marko's in his own particular little Hell."

Dwayne and Paul exchanged looks, and Dwayne said softly, "Are we going to do anything about it?"

David's eyes were still fixed on the graceful figure of the gospel singer. "Maybe," he said thoughtfully. "Maybe."