FicWad

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"You look sick."

"Thanks."

"No, seriously," Joe cupped Jamie's chin in his hands. Joe had this thing about touching people. His hands were always frigid. He studied Jamie's face, raising his eyebrows and biting his bottom lip. "Have you been feeding properly?" He blurted out.

"Eating?" Jamie half-corrected, they were standing in the breezeway at school. Anyone could have heard that and taken it wrong.

"No. It's called feeding when you're a - mmph." Jamie grabbed the lapels of Joe's jacket and shoved him into an alcove.

"Joseph!" He was inches from Joe's ear. "What the hell are you thinking?" He hissed through gritted teeth. Then he noticed it, Joe smelled like a lit cigarette, "Of course." He muttered. Joe grinned,

"Jamie, relax, I'm more concerned about you. Have you been feeding properly?" He asked again while looking Jamie in the eye.

"I... Joe, don't look at me like that. It feels like your eyes are boring into my brain."

"It's because they are." He widened his eyes for effect. "Have you turned anyone yet?" Jamie let the material of Joe's jacket slip from his grasp. He was ashamed to say he was afraid, but he was. He didn't want to curse anyone like he had been cursed.

"Well..."

"I take that as a no. Jamie, what have you been doing to feed?"

"I go to clubs and feed off drunken girls. When I was younger, I used to feed off my friends in their sleep..." Joe had the nerve to laugh.

"Clever. Get a whore drunk, and then drink her, she wakes up with a massive hangover and a hickey from a horny vampire." Joe kept laughing, then propped his foot up on the wall behind him. "Jamie, that's not healthy. You need to turn someone; you're starting to look sick."

Joe was right. Jamie had dark circles under his eyes. His pale skin had turned a sickly gray color and his eyes had a yellowish tint to them. He was starting to get weaker and slack off.

"What's your type?"

"My... type?"

"Dear god, Jamie. What type of blood do you crave?" Jamie shifted his weight. "Let me take a wild guess... you don't know." Joe smirked. "Quit racking your brain. Your type is A negative."

"How do I tell? Other than getting a mind reader, that is."

"Jamie, Jamie, Jamie." Joe said, shaking his head in disappointment. "Do you have no social skills? You just go up and ask people their blood type!" He smiled wryly.

"Har, har, you're such a comedian."

"Seriously, Jamie, you should've noticed that your sense of smell has heightened. Not only do you smell like a human, you also breathe like a vampire. Blood now has a scent." Joe subconsciously licked his lips.

"Won't I smell everyone's blood?" Jamie asked, worried that his body would go out of whack and he'd want to feed off every person with a pulse.

"Nah, just A negative, in your case."

"What's your type?"

"The hot ones," Joe said, pushing off the wall and slapping a girl's ass as she walked by. He smirked and mouthed the words 'call me'. The girl turned and slapped Joe across the face.

"Smooth." Jamie stated, heading toward the parking lot. As he was making his way to his car, someone walked by him. Jamie instantly turned on his heels and followed. He wasn't sure what it was that made his heart start to pound. He felt his fangs sharpen and extend. Was this what it felt like? After the two stared each other down for what seemed like hours, the stranger spoke,

"Are you lost?" Jamie could feel his pupils dilate.

"No."

"Okay, well, I'd really appreciate it if you stopped following me." Jamie's eyes traced the neckline of the person before him. His eyes stopped at the shoulders and worked their way up to the eyes.

"My name is Jamie."

"That's great." He backed up uneasily. He ran his hands through his black tousled hair, a nervous habit. His voice sounded small and distant. Jamie could barely hear it over the rush of the boy's blood and the beating of his heart. "Look, what is it with you?" Jamie suddenly felt a hand clamp down on his shoulder.

"Peter, hey!" A familiar voice shouted next to Jamie's ear. Joe leaned forward, grinning like a dork.

"Joe, tell your stalker buddy to stop following me." Peter said, raising his eyebrows. Joe slammed his open palm between Jamie's shoulder blades.

"Bad social skills," Joe half whispered. "So, doing anything for your birthday?" He asked, changing the subject. Peter chuckled sarcastically and shook his head. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

"Parents grounded me for a week."

"The hell?" Joe asked, leaning on Jamie.

"Yeah, something about my attitude... I don't even know."

"Well, what do you say to sneaking out on your birthday, and going to a club with me and the Jamster?" Peter smirked deviously.

"As long as Jamie promises to not stand too close." He said, his smirk curving into a frown. He rotated his lip ring in a full circle and shifted the weight of his messenger bag. Jamie nodded and swallowed hard.

"So it's set. We'll be at your house at exactly two twenty-three."

"You remembered." Peter said, beaming.

Peter and Joe had been close since elementary school; they were notorious for getting in trouble together. That reputation even carried on into high school. If anyone wanted a prank pulled for vengeance, they'd get a hold of either Peter or Joe.

"See you later, Petey." Joe waved like a moron and then walked with Jamie to the car.


Felix leaned against the old mustang. He cracked his knuckles then pulled out a pocketknife, using it to clean out his fingernails. He watched Joe and Jamie part ways with Peter. He waited until Peter rounded the building before stuffing his pocketknife back where it belonged and taking off to follow. He raked his fangs across his bottom lip, causing it to bleed.

"Felix is on the move."

"Excellent." Castor snarled. "This could be his chance to prove his loyalty to the Deadlies."

"Should we follow him?"

"Yes, Mitrik. Take some troops with you."

Felix was a stealthier stalker than Jamie was. His training had paid off, and he crept quietly around corners and between buildings. Peter stopped at a crosswalk. Felix pressed his body to the corner of the building closest to him. Felix was up the structure in no time, using a garbage container and a rusty old fire escape ladder to aid him.

He watched below on the sidewalks as Peter walked home. Hopping between buildings and sneaking behind billboards, Peter didn't suspect Felix above him. Felix paused above one of the alleys. This is where the ambush was to take place. Felix crouched.

Felix observed as Mitrik shoved Peter into the alley. It didn't take long for Mitrik to have him by his throat, pinned high against the wall. Peter gripped Mitrik's beefy arm trying to break free of his grasp. He started swinging his feet forcefully, hoping to get a good kick in.

With one hand tightly wrapped around Peter's throat, Mitrik hurled Peter into a wooden fence at the end of the alley. Mitrik disappeared, that was Felix's cue. Peter was crumpled in a heap at the base of the fence. Obviously deciding what to do, he gingerly touched his neck, where Mitrik had clamped his meaty hand. Then with a sudden burst of energy, he sat up, and scrambled to his feet.

Felix stood at the mouth of the alley. Waiting patiently for Peter to stand. He lifted his gaze; two yellow-gold orbs stared at Peter. Peter clenched his shaking hands into fists.

"What do you want with me?" He shouted, his voice cracking nervously. Felix stepped into the alley, staying close to one of the damaged walls. It had been carelessly repaired with four planks of rotten wood. "Hello? I'm talking to you." He said, anger evident in his tone. Felix chuckled and lowered his head. Peter ceased the chance and tackled Felix into the makeshift wall.

The wood splintered under their weight. They landed on the floor inside the building, which didn't feel too stable either. Peter used his arms to push himself up. He cocked his right arm back and brought his fist down against Felix's jaw. The floor cracked loudly in protest. Peter tried to scramble backwards, but Felix grabbed the collar of his shirt. The floor gave way and both boys plummeted into the darkness.

Sharp pain shot through Peter's body as he landed on a support beam. Felix didn't have as much luck, he continued falling. Peter watched him land on both feet on another support beam about one story down. He couldn't believe his eyes.

The sound of sirens echoed down into the basement of the building. Peter lifted his head as much as his injured neck would allow. He craned his neck to see through the hole at the top. When he turned to look back at his attacker there was no sign of him.

"Hey! Where'd you go?" He shouted into the darkness. His eyes scanned below the beam he was lying on.

"Is anyone down there?" A voice boomed from above.

"Yeah." Peter answered.

"Are you hurt?"

"Kind of..."

"Well, can you stand and climb out?" A flashlight suddenly shined over the floor. The light was extremely bright, especially in the kind of darkness that lurked below.

"I'm stuck on a support beam."

"Okay, hang tight, we'll throw a rope down." Peter checked below him again, he sighed. He didn't expect the police to believe what happened to him. It was even hard for him to believe it.