Tuesday June 9th 2009
Who: Max and Rorie, then Mal and Garret (and a brief appearance by Sim) What: The Rescue! Where: Evil vampire's house When: Midday Rating: PG 13 for violence
Rorie had come home tired and went straight to bed. He’d slept all of Monday, not even noticing if Garret was around or not. There hadn’t been any noises, anyone tapping on him to check on him or just creeking on the door way as if they were leaning in to look at him. Nothing. Not that he really noticed anything right off the bat. Rorie was passed out and hadn’t moved except once to get up and go pee. Come Tuesday morning when he wasn’t as tired or sore, he shuffled around the house, foraging in the great fridge for something to eat when he finally noticed it was quiet. The kind of quiet that tells you no one’s in the house with you. Even Pete was silent in his corner of the room.
Rorie had come home tired and went straight to bed. He’d slept all of Monday, not even noticing if Garret was around or not. There hadn’t been any noises, anyone tapping on him to check on him or just creeking on the door way as if they were leaning in to look at him. Nothing. Not that he really noticed anything right off the bat. Rorie was passed out and hadn’t moved except once to get up and go pee. Come Tuesday morning when he wasn’t as tired or sore, he shuffled around the house, foraging in the great fridge for something to eat when he finally noticed it was quiet. The kind of quiet that tells you no one’s in the house with you. Even Pete was silent in his corner of the room.
Frowning, he looked around and saw no note saying Garret was out or anything. Strange. Walking around more, he found little evidence that Garret had been there since Rorie left. Pulling on some clothes quickly, he walked across the yard to Mal’s place to see if he’d been staying there while Rorie was out. The door was locked, but he had a key. Going in, he looked, listened, smelt around and couldn’t find anything. Not even the faint wisp of cooked breakfast that morning. It was getting more and more strange, so he decided to call Sim to see if she could look Garret and Mal up real quick.
Sim told him that she couldn’t see them. Not because they were dead or too far away, but because something was blocking her. Rorie’s nerves were getting tighter the more he found out. Doing a quick spell, the young witch was able to tell him where Garret and Mal were before they went off the map. Thanking her and telling her not worry, he got in his car and drove to the school, looking for his other hell hound. Rorie was going to need a better nose than his own at this point.
---
Max had been busy in his own life since the spell that had almost ruined his career (and almost gotten Maurice killed), so he hadn't been around very much. He knew that he was supposed to be going to the school and learning human things, but it felt better to be fighting. It felt more like what he was used to. But he had promised himself that next semester, after a successful summer, he would go back. Maurice said that dogs weren't supposed to last more than a few months, and if Max kept winning then people would get suspicious. Besides, he was growing, and soon enough something would sprout that wasn't dog-like at all.
Sleepy from a weekend of fights, Max was curled up on his bed when a familiar scent hit his nose, and a few seconds later there came a knock. "Rorie!" he yipped, sitting upright. "Come in!"
---
“Hey,” Rorie said, smiling just a tad so he didn’t come off rude. “Max, we have a situation.” How did you explain to your suedo step son that his foster family was missing. Well, it was more complicated than that, but still. “Mal and Garret are missing. I can’t find them with magic and I need your nose. Mine’s not as strong.” They’d have to work together to find them and even then there was no telling what would be there when they did.
---
A situation? Max's ears perked up. Despite his sleepiness, he was already alert and listening closely to Rorie's words. usually when there was a situation someone got hurt. And hearing that Mal and Garret were missing made it ten times worse. Mal wouldn't just leave, he wouldn't. He would never do that to Rorie, and he couldn't do that to Max.
As he bounded up from the bed, the little hound's mind was already reeling with the worst possibilities. If magic couldn't find them, it was very likely they were in Hades. But if that's where they were, Garret was already dead, and Mal soon would be. Stepping into his sneakers, Max gave Rorie a serious nod, and followed him into the hallway. "We'll find them," he said simply, because in his mind there was no alternative. Failure wasn't an option.
---
“I have where they were last, but after that I’m not sure. I haven’t gone there yet and I was going to take you with me.” If something or someone took them, then they were bad. Very, very bad. Mal was a 3,000 year old hell hound and Garret could just walk out of anything. Literally. Finn was out of the country and as he had found out from a few others after he told security, there were others missing too. Keely and the librarian and several others, even some security.
It was now up to him to not just sit around. He had to do what he could. That was getting Max and figuring out what the hell is going on. “They were last on the south side of Boston, both were taken from the same area between the middle of the city and the airport. It’s a lot of ground, but once we find a more definitive spot we’ll be able to track them easier.” Rorie explained what his plan was so far as they walked to his car. He just hoped he’d be able to get past the cops tonight speeding so they could get to Boston quicker.
---
Max was listening, and devising a plan, as he followed Rorie out to the car. Part of him was tempted to run there himself, follow a scent, but he couldn’t leave his person behind. If something had happened to Garret and Mal, then he couldn’t let something happen to Rorie as well. Mal wouldn’t approve of it.
Once they were beside Rorie’s car, Max stripped out of his clothing, folding it into a pile and setting it gently on the back seat. Then he shifted into hound form, his bones cracking and breaking as his body engulfed in flames. He could get a better scent in his true form, and he wanted to find his pack as soon as he could. Climbing into the car, he sat patiently and waited for Rorie to close his door and start driving.
---
Not saying anything about Max changing, in fact he prefered it at this point. Then he knew that if something tried to sneak up on them, then they’d have a card in their hand. Not much could take on a hell hound, even if he was a young one. Getting into the car, he started it and gunned the engine. Peeling out, Rorie got them onto the road and highway faster than he had ever tried before. Right then, he was channeling his inner Driving Garret. The man drove like a bat out of hell and Rorie needed to do that to get to Boston. There was little said on the way, just the sound of the tires on the black top and the purr of the engine as he sped, keeping his muscles taut and able to turn at a moment’s notice.
Getting to Boston, he only slowed down, but kept up the slightly deranged driving. Weaving in and out like a snake before pulling into a two hours spot and killing the engine. Rorie jumped out and let Max out as well, walking down the street briskly trying to catch something that might be a familiar scent.
---
With his head out the window, Max tried to catch a scent, but so far there was nothing. Too many cars and people around, and the wind was too fast. Rorie was nervous, Max could tell. But Max was calm. Rorie was a human, and he was prone to emotions, and he would need someone strong to keep him steady. Max would be that someone.
Jumping out of the car, Max shook himself, loosening his muscles and readying himself for a fast run if he needed to. Keeping close to Rorie, Max kept his nose low to the ground, sniffing for something, anything familiar. And soon enough, he got it. It was outside a bar, and it smelled like Garret. Of course. Looking up at Rorie, then checking to see if anyone was nearby, Max mumbled softly “Grit.” Low enough to be a small growl, in case anyone heard, but Rorie would know better. Picking up his pace, Max followed his nose, weaving through people and impatiently nudging them aside. It was Garret, yes, but something else. Something... dead.
---
Quick to follow Max, Rorie was right behind him. His own nose was picking up something familiar, but it wasn’t as strong as Max’s by far. Inhaling deeply, he kept up the quick pace. It was weaving and dodging people for a few blocks before they ducked down a side street that looked less than favorable. The scent got stronger, thankfully due to no rain, and their speed got faster, almost to a run before they came upon a slightly hidden door. Taking a deep whiff, Rorie knew what was behind it with Max having to tell him.
“Vampire,” he mumbled as keen eyes surveyed their surroundings. “Can you smell them, Max? Can you tell if they’re hurt?” Rorie didn’t want to say ‘alive or dead’ because then that meant there was a chance that they very well could be dead and he didn’t want to take chance with it.
---
This place wasn’t like other places. It was hidden, but obvious, and it just felt wrong. It felt cold, like a void in space. Like some kind of dark magic was in there. Stepping away from Rorie, Max sniffed around the grounds, looking for a basement window, a crack, something to indicate this place wasn’t what Max feared that it was. He listened closely to the wall, hearing the faintest of sounds within. Nothing he could recognize, but it just felt dead in there. And suddenly, a familiar scent hit his nostrils, and Max’s heart skipped a beat. It was Malcoda.
Trotting back to Rorie, Max sat at his feet, looking up. Part of him wanted to break down that door, tear into whoever it was that had Malcoda down there, and make sure they never saw the light of day again. But seeing Rorie’s face, the look on it... Rorie needed this. He was scared, probably more scared then Max even knew how to be, and he was ready to channel it somewhere. Max had seen the way Mal and Garret treated Rorie, and it was obvious that he was the runt of the litter. He needed to be the one to take charge.
“They’re in there,” Max told him. “Them, maybe more. A vampire lives here, it reeks of him.” Pausing, he straightened himself, readying himself for fight or flight. “Tell me the plan.”
---
So, it was a vampire. Licking his lips, Rorie paused to think for a moment. If a vampire took them, then he had to be one strong son of a bitch. “We go back, get together some supplies and weapons and come back. Call the healers on the way that way we can get them out while I distract the vampire,” he said. It was serving himself up on a silver platter, but he’d do it. “It’ll give you time to get them out of there and to safety. I don’t know how much time we have left, so we gotta work fast.”
Rorie led the way to the car and got in with Max, speeding back to their house. It seemed like no time had passed as he rushed into the house and went to their room. They had some weapons that Garret kept around since the Great Power Swap and he’d be digging into them. Finding some supplies that consisted of holy water, crosses, crucifix, stakes, and a gun, he shoved them all into pockets on his person before putting on the holster and slipping the gun in it after making sure he had an extra magazine and it was loaded. “Okay,” he said, hurrying down the steps of his house. “Let’s get the hell out of here and get our pack back.”
The drive back to Boston was just as quick as it was on the way to his house. Nearly breaking the sound barrier, he got to town while Max called the healers so that they could be on their way to help with the the people that were with the vampire. “Okay, Max. You go and get the people, out, I’ll deal with the vamp.” Walking straight towards the door, he kicked it open and let Max follow his nose while Rorie went looking. Stake in one hand, glass bottle of holy water in the other, he walked as quietly as he could, following his nose and ears till he found a dining room of sorts. It was decorated ornately like a medieval castle and smelt like it had the air for it too.
It seemed forever before he heard a small chuckle. “Have you come to slay the big, bad vampire?” Spinning, Rorie found a well dressed man in his late thirties. His suit was tailored made for him and it seemed he didn’t have a worry about money. “I was waiting for someone to realize and come hunting. I just didn’t know it’d be a little lycan, such as yourself.” Not saying anything, Rorie kept a sharp eye on him and kept on guard. Garret and Mal and Max and others were depending on him and he wasn’t about to let them down. “What makes you think that you can just walk in here with a pup of a hell hound and expect to walk out?”
“Never underestimate someone who’s married to two men,” Rorie said. “It makes them twice as mad when they both go missing.” Getting closer, he took the lead and lashed out with his stake, missing the vampire as he easily ducked out of the way.
“Come on, I’m sure you’ve got better moves than that,” the vampire laughed as Rorie lashed out again. “Or maybe not.” A few more missed hits before Rorie’s arm was caught and he was sent flying into a decorative mirror. Grunting, he looked up at the vampire before he skittered to get up and was on his feet again. Having lost his stake and bottle of holy water, he looked around before finding them under the table. “I dare you,” the vampire said, looking at Rorie. Darting forward, intending to dive under the table, he was caught by the neck and thrown against the wall opposite the mirror. The breath was knocked out of him as he attempted to get up, only to be kicked hard in the ribs by the vampire.
“Guess you’re not mad enough,” the vampire tsked as he kicked Rorie again, sending him into the table. He was picked up again, by his ankle and dragged out and picked up. Taking the stake, the vampire pinned Rorie to a wall by the neck before plunging it into his shoulder. Screaming out in pain, Rorie could barely feel it when the vampire started to lap at the blood. “A vamp’s gotta eat,” he grinned before pulling the stake out. It felt like Rorie’s entire right shoulder and arm was on fire. Holding him up still by his neck, the vampire flung him onto the table, making the decorations and table cloth go askew or be knocked off.
Rorie felt like he was in agony as he tried to focus while the vampire readied to stab him in the heart now. “I’d let you know how your boys tasted, but I’m pretty sure they’ll tell you on the other side. Except, do hell hounds have afterlives?” He asked, laughing before Rorie’s good arm shot out and nailed him in the stomach.
“They’ve got a lot more options than you do,” he snarled as he grabbed a chair and flung it at the vampire before pulling out the gun and firing his clip into him. Taking a moment, to get a breath while the vampire was down, he looked down and scrambled for the holy water and stake, grabbing them in time. Just as the vampire came back, fists flying, Rorie slammed the bottle of holy water into his face. It shattered and the water started to burn his flesh off, earning a scream of pain. Feeling more satisfied, Rorie decided it might be a good time to use his telekinetic powers. Holding out his hand, he focused and slammed the table to pin the vampire. Stake in hand, he approached him and made sure he had a clear shot before shoving the sharpened wood into the heart of the vampire. Standing back, he watched his still body a moment, blood oozing from the chest wound slightly after some of it had splattered onto Rorie.
Breathing, as well as he could with more than likely broken ribs, he fell to his knees feeling dizzy. “No more vampire fights,” Rorie mumbled as he slowly started to crawl towards the door hoping that he hadn’t missed the healers yet.
---
Every one of Max’s instincts wanted to go against Rorie. Old vampires were bad news, and dangerous, and going in alone would be suicide. Max knew he should have been the one to face the undead creature, but he could also tell that there would be no dissuading Rorie. His mind had been made up, and the fiery anger of Hell itself burned in those eyes. So Max had simply nodded, and followed his human along as he needed to. He could take orders, and he could get the people out and get them safe, and then go get Rorie if he had to. He could call the healers and make them come and help out the people. He could do all of it.
When they entered the house, Max kept low to the ground as he followed his nose to the basement. It smelled more like death in here than it did anywhere else he’d ever been, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found out why. It was horrible down here. Max had seen some horrible things, but this was maybe one of the worst. But at least the people he knew were alive, and Garret and Mal were down here, and it was almost enough to make Max cry with happiness. But instead he set to work on getting them out of their chains, which wasn’t as easy as he’d anticipated. There was a null spell down here, which explained how his human and his Alpha had been kept here for this long. Eventually he managed to find a pair of bolt cutters, something that he assumed the vampire used to unchain the dead bodies from their posts.
There was no time for reconciliations. A scuffle was going on above their heads, and Max had to just let Rorie deal with it for now, because he had to get the people out. There was a bulkhead door far off in the corner behind a steel shelf, and Max managed to clear it enough that everyone could get out without having to go back through the house. If Rorie was losing that battle, all they’d meet on the other side would be death.
When they were all outside, Max didn’t go to his pack like he wanted. He didn’t make sure they were okay, he didn’t assure them that he himself was fine. He ran back through the basement, up the stairs, sniffing and searching for Rorie and hoping that the blood he smelled wasn’t more than the lycan’s body could afford to lose. “Rorie!” he barked, stumbling into the kitchen to find the vampire dead, and Rorie looking close to it. Getting to his knees, Max put a hand on Rorie’s shoulder, turning him gently onto his back. “Stay,” he said firmly, but gently. “Stay.”
---
Mal finally stumbled outside with the help of his pup. No, not a pup anymore. Young hound. He stretched and growled, feeling the surge of power come rushing back through his body, a familiar and welcome force. Glancing around, he ruffled Max’s hair in silent thanks as he made his way over to the healers, watching them check out Garret. The whole time, he was breathing deeply, scenting where they were and what was going on. Glancing at the house, he frowned. Someone was still inside and Max just ran back in.
“Rorie.” A glance back at Garret to ensure he was safe and Mal was rushing inside. He followed his nose, which wasn’t all that hard. Max and Rorie were together and there was blood. Shit. Blood, death, vampire and Rorie all rolled into one bittersweet tangle. Finding the kitchen, he knelt down on the other side of Max, looking over his husband. “Did he bite you?” Of course that would be his first question.
---
“ ‘m staying,” Rorie mumbled as he felt all the little aches and pains start to catch up with him since he stopped moving. It was getting harder to breath, more painful when he needed the air the most. “I’m fine, just a scratch,” he muttered as he laid there, not really wanting to move for fear of more pain. Hearing hurried footsteps, he turned his head and blinked slowly as Mal rushed in.
“Never gave ‘em the chance,” he said, smiling slightly. “Shoulder hurts like a bitch though.” It was still bleeding, even with Max’s hand on it. “Hole’s fuckin’ big. Got me with the stake I used on him.”
---
“Shh,” Max instructed, looking over Rorie and assessing the damage. He had a pretty decent hole in his shoulder, and he was losing a lot of blood from it. Reaching over to grab the table runner that had been dropped to the floor, Max wadded it up and put it over the wound. In a moment, he would carry Rorie outside to the healers, but right now he had to make sure that picking him up wouldn’t damage anything vital.
When Mal came in, Max looked up at him, then back to Rorie.
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Who: Max and Rorie, then Mal and Garret (and a brief appearance by Sim) What: The Rescue! Where: Evil vampire's house When: Midday Rating: PG 13 for violence
Rorie had come home tired and went straight to bed. He’d slept all of Monday, not even noticing if Garret was around or not. There hadn’t been any noises, anyone tapping on him to check on him or just creeking on the door way as if they were leaning in to look at him. Nothing. Not that he really noticed anything right off the bat. Rorie was passed out and hadn’t moved except once to get up and go pee. Come Tuesday morning when he wasn’t as tired or sore, he shuffled around the house, foraging in the great fridge for something to eat when he finally noticed it was quiet. The kind of quiet that tells you no one’s in the house with you. Even Pete was silent in his corner of the room.
<lj-cut text=""> Rorie had come home tired and went straight to bed. He’d slept all of Monday, not even noticing if Garret was around or not. There hadn’t been any noises, anyone tapping on him to check on him or just creeking on the door way as if they were leaning in to look at him. Nothing. Not that he really noticed anything right off the bat. Rorie was passed out and hadn’t moved except once to get up and go pee. Come Tuesday morning when he wasn’t as tired or sore, he shuffled around the house, foraging in the great fridge for something to eat when he finally noticed it was quiet. The kind of quiet that tells you no one’s in the house with you. Even Pete was silent in his corner of the room.
Frowning, he looked around and saw no note saying Garret was out or anything. Strange. Walking around more, he found little evidence that Garret had been there since Rorie left. Pulling on some clothes quickly, he walked across the yard to Mal’s place to see if he’d been staying there while Rorie was out. The door was locked, but he had a key. Going in, he looked, listened, smelt around and couldn’t find anything. Not even the faint wisp of cooked breakfast that morning. It was getting more and more strange, so he decided to call Sim to see if she could look Garret and Mal up real quick.
Sim told him that she couldn’t see them. Not because they were dead or too far away, but because something was blocking her. Rorie’s nerves were getting tighter the more he found out. Doing a quick spell, the young witch was able to tell him where Garret and Mal were before they went off the map. Thanking her and telling her not worry, he got in his car and drove to the school, looking for his other hell hound. Rorie was going to need a better nose than his own at this point.
---
Max had been busy in his own life since the spell that had almost ruined his career (and almost gotten Maurice killed), so he hadn't been around very much. He knew that he was supposed to be going to the school and learning human things, but it felt better to be fighting. It felt more like what he was used to. But he had promised himself that next semester, after a successful summer, he would go back. Maurice said that dogs weren't supposed to last more than a few months, and if Max kept winning then people would get suspicious. Besides, he was growing, and soon enough something would sprout that wasn't dog-like at all.
Sleepy from a weekend of fights, Max was curled up on his bed when a familiar scent hit his nose, and a few seconds later there came a knock. "Rorie!" he yipped, sitting upright. "Come in!"
---
“Hey,” Rorie said, smiling just a tad so he didn’t come off rude. “Max, we have a situation.” How did you explain to your suedo step son that his foster family was missing. Well, it was more complicated than that, but still. “Mal and Garret are missing. I can’t find them with magic and I need your nose. Mine’s not as strong.” They’d have to work together to find them and even then there was no telling what would be there when they did.
---
A situation? Max's ears perked up. Despite his sleepiness, he was already alert and listening closely to Rorie's words. usually when there was a situation someone got hurt. And hearing that Mal and Garret were missing made it ten times worse. Mal wouldn't just leave, he wouldn't. He would never do that to Rorie, and he <i>couldn't</i> do that to Max.
As he bounded up from the bed, the little hound's mind was already reeling with the worst possibilities. If magic couldn't find them, it was very likely they were in Hades. But if that's where they were, Garret was already dead, and Mal soon would be. Stepping into his sneakers, Max gave Rorie a serious nod, and followed him into the hallway. "We'll find them," he said simply, because in his mind there was no alternative. Failure wasn't an option.
---
“I have where they were last, but after that I’m not sure. I haven’t gone there yet and I was going to take you with me.” If something or someone took them, then they were bad. Very, very bad. Mal was a 3,000 year old hell hound and Garret could just walk out of anything. Literally. Finn was out of the country and as he had found out from a few others after he told security, there were others missing too. Keely and the librarian and several others, even some security.
It was now up to him to not just sit around. He had to do what he could. That was getting Max and figuring out what the hell is going on. “They were last on the south side of Boston, both were taken from the same area between the middle of the city and the airport. It’s a lot of ground, but once we find a more definitive spot we’ll be able to track them easier.” Rorie explained what his plan was so far as they walked to his car. He just hoped he’d be able to get past the cops tonight speeding so they could get to Boston quicker.
---
Max was listening, and devising a plan, as he followed Rorie out to the car. Part of him was tempted to run there himself, follow a scent, but he couldn’t leave his person behind. If something had happened to Garret and Mal, then he couldn’t let something happen to Rorie as well. Mal wouldn’t approve of it.
Once they were beside Rorie’s car, Max stripped out of his clothing, folding it into a pile and setting it gently on the back seat. Then he shifted into hound form, his bones cracking and breaking as his body engulfed in flames. He could get a better scent in his true form, and he wanted to find his pack as soon as he could. Climbing into the car, he sat patiently and waited for Rorie to close his door and start driving.
---
Not saying anything about Max changing, in fact he prefered it at this point. Then he knew that if something tried to sneak up on them, then they’d have a card in their hand. Not much could take on a hell hound, even if he was a young one. Getting into the car, he started it and gunned the engine. Peeling out, Rorie got them onto the road and highway faster than he had ever tried before. Right then, he was channeling his inner Driving Garret. The man drove like a bat out of hell and Rorie needed to do that to get to Boston. There was little said on the way, just the sound of the tires on the black top and the purr of the engine as he sped, keeping his muscles taut and able to turn at a moment’s notice.
Getting to Boston, he only slowed down, but kept up the slightly deranged driving. Weaving in and out like a snake before pulling into a two hours spot and killing the engine. Rorie jumped out and let Max out as well, walking down the street briskly trying to catch something that might be a familiar scent.
---
With his head out the window, Max tried to catch a scent, but so far there was nothing. Too many cars and people around, and the wind was too fast. Rorie was nervous, Max could tell. But Max was calm. Rorie was a human, and he was prone to emotions, and he would need someone strong to keep him steady. Max would be that someone.
Jumping out of the car, Max shook himself, loosening his muscles and readying himself for a fast run if he needed to. Keeping close to Rorie, Max kept his nose low to the ground, sniffing for something, anything familiar. And soon enough, he got it. It was outside a bar, and it smelled like Garret. Of course. Looking up at Rorie, then checking to see if anyone was nearby, Max mumbled softly “Grit.” Low enough to be a small growl, in case anyone heard, but Rorie would know better. Picking up his pace, Max followed his nose, weaving through people and impatiently nudging them aside. It was Garret, yes, but something else. Something... dead.
---
Quick to follow Max, Rorie was right behind him. His own nose was picking up something familiar, but it wasn’t as strong as Max’s by far. Inhaling deeply, he kept up the quick pace. It was weaving and dodging people for a few blocks before they ducked down a side street that looked less than favorable. The scent got stronger, thankfully due to no rain, and their speed got faster, almost to a run before they came upon a slightly hidden door. Taking a deep whiff, Rorie knew what was behind it with Max having to tell him.
“Vampire,” he mumbled as keen eyes surveyed their surroundings. “Can you smell them, Max? Can you tell if they’re hurt?” Rorie didn’t want to say ‘alive or dead’ because then that meant there was a chance that they very well could be dead and he didn’t want to take chance with it.
---
This place wasn’t like other places. It was hidden, but obvious, and it just felt wrong. It felt cold, like a void in space. Like some kind of dark magic was in there. Stepping away from Rorie, Max sniffed around the grounds, looking for a basement window, a crack, something to indicate this place wasn’t what Max feared that it was. He listened closely to the wall, hearing the faintest of sounds within. Nothing he could recognize, but it just <i>felt</i> dead in there. And suddenly, a familiar scent hit his nostrils, and Max’s heart skipped a beat. It was Malcoda.
Trotting back to Rorie, Max sat at his feet, looking up. Part of him wanted to break down that door, tear into whoever it was that had Malcoda down there, and make sure they never saw the light of day again. But seeing Rorie’s face, the look on it... Rorie needed this. He was scared, probably more scared then Max even knew how to be, and he was ready to channel it somewhere. Max had seen the way Mal and Garret treated Rorie, and it was obvious that he was the runt of the litter. He needed to be the one to take charge.
“They’re in there,” Max told him. “Them, maybe more. A vampire lives here, it reeks of him.” Pausing, he straightened himself, readying himself for fight or flight. “Tell me the plan.”
---
So, it was a vampire. Licking his lips, Rorie paused to think for a moment. If a vampire took them, then he had to be one strong son of a bitch. “We go back, get together some supplies and weapons and come back. Call the healers on the way that way we can get them out while I distract the vampire,” he said. It was serving himself up on a silver platter, but he’d do it. “It’ll give you time to get them out of there and to safety. I don’t know how much time we have left, so we gotta work fast.”
Rorie led the way to the car and got in with Max, speeding back to their house. It seemed like no time had passed as he rushed into the house and went to their room. They had some weapons that Garret kept around since the Great Power Swap and he’d be digging into them. Finding some supplies that consisted of holy water, crosses, crucifix, stakes, and a gun, he shoved them all into pockets on his person before putting on the holster and slipping the gun in it after making sure he had an extra magazine and it was loaded. “Okay,” he said, hurrying down the steps of his house. “Let’s get the hell out of here and get our pack back.”
The drive back to Boston was just as quick as it was on the way to his house. Nearly breaking the sound barrier, he got to town while Max called the healers so that they could be on their way to help with the the people that were with the vampire. “Okay, Max. You go and get the people, out, I’ll deal with the vamp.” Walking straight towards the door, he kicked it open and let Max follow his nose while Rorie went looking. Stake in one hand, glass bottle of holy water in the other, he walked as quietly as he could, following his nose and ears till he found a dining room of sorts. It was decorated ornately like a medieval castle and smelt like it had the air for it too.
It seemed forever before he heard a small chuckle. “Have you come to slay the big, bad vampire?” Spinning, Rorie found a well dressed man in his late thirties. His suit was tailored made for him and it seemed he didn’t have a worry about money. “I was waiting for someone to realize and come hunting. I just didn’t know it’d be a little lycan, such as yourself.” Not saying anything, Rorie kept a sharp eye on him and kept on guard. Garret and Mal and Max and others were depending on him and he wasn’t about to let them down. “What makes you think that you can just walk in here with a pup of a hell hound and expect to walk out?”
“Never underestimate someone who’s married to two men,” Rorie said. “It makes them twice as mad when they both go missing.” Getting closer, he took the lead and lashed out with his stake, missing the vampire as he easily ducked out of the way.
“Come on, I’m sure you’ve got better moves than that,” the vampire laughed as Rorie lashed out again. “Or maybe not.” A few more missed hits before Rorie’s arm was caught and he was sent flying into a decorative mirror. Grunting, he looked up at the vampire before he skittered to get up and was on his feet again. Having lost his stake and bottle of holy water, he looked around before finding them under the table. “I dare you,” the vampire said, looking at Rorie. Darting forward, intending to dive under the table, he was caught by the neck and thrown against the wall opposite the mirror. The breath was knocked out of him as he attempted to get up, only to be kicked hard in the ribs by the vampire.
“Guess you’re not mad enough,” the vampire tsked as he kicked Rorie again, sending him into the table. He was picked up again, by his ankle and dragged out and picked up. Taking the stake, the vampire pinned Rorie to a wall by the neck before plunging it into his shoulder. Screaming out in pain, Rorie could barely feel it when the vampire started to lap at the blood. “A vamp’s gotta eat,” he grinned before pulling the stake out. It felt like Rorie’s entire right shoulder and arm was on fire. Holding him up still by his neck, the vampire flung him onto the table, making the decorations and table cloth go askew or be knocked off.
Rorie felt like he was in agony as he tried to focus while the vampire readied to stab him in the heart now. “I’d let you know how your boys tasted, but I’m pretty sure they’ll tell you on the other side. Except, do hell hounds have afterlives?” He asked, laughing before Rorie’s good arm shot out and nailed him in the stomach.
“They’ve got a lot more options than you do,” he snarled as he grabbed a chair and flung it at the vampire before pulling out the gun and firing his clip into him. Taking a moment, to get a breath while the vampire was down, he looked down and scrambled for the holy water and stake, grabbing them in time. Just as the vampire came back, fists flying, Rorie slammed the bottle of holy water into his face. It shattered and the water started to burn his flesh off, earning a scream of pain. Feeling more satisfied, Rorie decided it might be a good time to use his telekinetic powers. Holding out his hand, he focused and slammed the table to pin the vampire. Stake in hand, he approached him and made sure he had a clear shot before shoving the sharpened wood into the heart of the vampire. Standing back, he watched his still body a moment, blood oozing from the chest wound slightly after some of it had splattered onto Rorie.
Breathing, as well as he could with more than likely broken ribs, he fell to his knees feeling dizzy. “No more vampire fights,” Rorie mumbled as he slowly started to crawl towards the door hoping that he hadn’t missed the healers yet.
---
Every one of Max’s instincts wanted to go against Rorie. Old vampires were bad news, and dangerous, and going in alone would be suicide. Max knew he should have been the one to face the undead creature, but he could also tell that there would be no dissuading Rorie. His mind had been made up, and the fiery anger of Hell itself burned in those eyes. So Max had simply nodded, and followed his human along as he needed to. He could take orders, and he could get the people out and get them safe, and then go get Rorie if he had to. He could call the healers and make them come and help out the people. He could do all of it.
When they entered the house, Max kept low to the ground as he followed his nose to the basement. It smelled more like death in here than it did anywhere else he’d ever been, and as his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found out why. It was horrible down here. Max had seen some horrible things, but this was maybe one of the worst. But at least the people he knew were alive, and Garret and Mal were down here, and it was almost enough to make Max cry with happiness. But instead he set to work on getting them out of their chains, which wasn’t as easy as he’d anticipated. There was a null spell down here, which explained how his human and his Alpha had been kept here for this long. Eventually he managed to find a pair of bolt cutters, something that he assumed the vampire used to unchain the dead bodies from their posts.
There was no time for reconciliations. A scuffle was going on above their heads, and Max had to just let Rorie deal with it for now, because he had to get the people out. There was a bulkhead door far off in the corner behind a steel shelf, and Max managed to clear it enough that everyone could get out without having to go back through the house. If Rorie was losing that battle, all they’d meet on the other side would be death.
When they were all outside, Max didn’t go to his pack like he wanted. He didn’t make sure they were okay, he didn’t assure them that he himself was fine. He ran back through the basement, up the stairs, sniffing and searching for Rorie and hoping that the blood he smelled wasn’t more than the lycan’s body could afford to lose. “Rorie!” he barked, stumbling into the kitchen to find the vampire dead, and Rorie looking close to it. Getting to his knees, Max put a hand on Rorie’s shoulder, turning him gently onto his back. “Stay,” he said firmly, but gently. “Stay.”
---
Mal finally stumbled outside with the help of his pup. No, not a pup anymore. Young hound. He stretched and growled, feeling the surge of power come rushing back through his body, a familiar and welcome force. Glancing around, he ruffled Max’s hair in silent thanks as he made his way over to the healers, watching them check out Garret. The whole time, he was breathing deeply, scenting where they were and what was going on. Glancing at the house, he frowned. Someone was still inside and Max just ran back in.
“Rorie.” A glance back at Garret to ensure he was safe and Mal was rushing inside. He followed his nose, which wasn’t all that hard. Max and Rorie were together and there was blood. Shit. Blood, death, vampire and Rorie all rolled into one bittersweet tangle. Finding the kitchen, he knelt down on the other side of Max, looking over his husband. “Did he bite you?” Of course that would be his first question.
---
“ ‘m staying,” Rorie mumbled as he felt all the little aches and pains start to catch up with him since he stopped moving. It was getting harder to breath, more painful when he needed the air the most. “I’m fine, just a scratch,” he muttered as he laid there, not really wanting to move for fear of more pain. Hearing hurried footsteps, he turned his head and blinked slowly as Mal rushed in.
“Never gave ‘em the chance,” he said, smiling slightly. “Shoulder hurts like a bitch though.” It was still bleeding, even with Max’s hand on it. “Hole’s fuckin’ big. Got me with the stake I used on him.”
---
“Shh,” Max instructed, looking over Rorie and assessing the damage. He had a pretty decent hole in his shoulder, and he was losing a lot of blood from it. Reaching over to grab the table runner that had been dropped to the floor, Max wadded it up and put it over the wound. In a moment, he would carry Rorie outside to the healers, but right now he had to make sure that picking him up wouldn’t damage anything vital.
When Mal came in, Max looked up at him, then back to Rorie. <span title=”You need to be outside with the healers, Malcoda”>”Musíte byť vonku s liečiteľov, Malcoda,”</span> he said calmly. <span title=”You’ve been drained too much.”>”Boli ste príliš vyčerpaný.”</span> To Rorie, he said softly, “Breathe in as much as you can,” as he placed his free hand on Rorie’s chest. Things weren’t in one piece in there, definitely, but nothing felt like it was prodding other things.
---
Mal didn’t bother to respond to Max, he knew the young hound was right. He’d lost a lot of blood being one of the first ones taken, but he’d be damned if he’d just sit by and watch his husband bleed out. Closing his eyes, he centered himself, needing to do so simply so his head would stop that infernal spinning. He held out a hand over the wound in his shoulder, starting to murmur a healing spell in Hellenic. Sure it was usually for hounds, but it would stop the bleeding. If he had to, he’d keep going until he passed out.
---
“Can’t breath too much,” Rorie mumbled, his head spinning more and more. “Might inhale a bone.” Sure, he was trying to be funny, but it kept him awake. “Where’s Garret? Is he okay?” He asked softly, swallowing as his eyes started to water from the pain being overwhelming now. “Mal?” It was getting difficult to focus, so he went quiet, his shallow breathing loud and wheezing as bone threatened to puncture his lung. He was barely registering that Mal was casting a spell, let alone saying anything. “Garret?” He whispered, a few tears dripping from his eyes as he groped his good hand to find the one he was looking for.
---
The moment Mal’s hands touched Rorie, and his lips started moving, Max knew what he was doing. Rising up for better leverage, the younger hound swung out his arm, hitting Mal in the throat with his forearm and knocking the elder off to the side, breaking the spell and the contact. “Elder NO!” he barked loudly, narrowing his eyes. <span title=”What good are you to the pack unconscious?”>”Na čo sú vám na balenie nevedomie?”</span> he asked sharply, then spoke more softly in English. “If you’re going to help, bring him a healer. He won’t bleed out in the next two minutes and you can’t go dark on me.” Max had been around enough hurt dogs to know when a rib was broken, and when it was going to start piercing internal organs. As long as Rorie stayed put, he could be healed and his lungs would remain intact. And if Mal thought he couldn’t watch his husband bleed out, then he might have half an idea how it would be for Max to have to watch Mal needlessly push himself near death. There was still dark magic all over this house, and Max didn’t know if they were all still in danger. He couldn’t risk not having Mal to help him.
---
The forearm to the throat was unexpected given Mal’s concentration and he dropped back, coughing. Turning red eyes to Max, he growled low, threateningly. His mate was in danger and Max dared to step between them. Still, he had a valid point, once Mal managed to clear away the anger. Nodding, not yet trusting himself to speak, he gave Rorie’s hand a reassuring squeeze and ran back outside, calling for a healer.
One of them, the one with Garret, immediately looked up since he’d finished with the poor patient. “Need you. Now. Broken ribs, stab wound in right shoulder. Thready breathing.” Mal didn’t even bother to watch, moving back inside the house and hearing the technician call for equipment and hauling ass to catch up with Mal, running to the kitchen.
---
It felt like an eternity as he laid there, hearing muffled voices go in and out. Even his own excelled healing wasn’t patching him up as quick as he needed it to. So, this was what it was like to be on the brink between life and death. It was odd and scary, something he didn’t think about often. After all he was hoping for being old and in his sleep when this happened. Instead, he was in a vampire’s house/den and bleeding to death it seemed. “Garret?” He whispered, barely making a noise. “Mal?”
---
Garret had certainly had enough with being left behind, and he’d definitely had enough with being mollycoddled and healed and fussed over like an invalid child. Mal’s timing could not have been better because in a moment, he’d have started swinging at the poor healer just trying to do his job. So following close behind, and then pushing his way past, Garret ran into the kitchen, looked down at the floor, and sucked in a hard breath. “Oh fuck,” he mumbled. Kneeling down on the other side of Rorie and getting entirely in the way of the healers, Garret took hold of Rorie’s hand. “You’re an asshole,” he told him simply, giving the darkest glare to the nudge on his shoulder as healers attempted to stop the bleeding. (He would move out of the way, yes, but he didn’t have to like it.) “Mal and I spent days chained in a basement getting cut and bitten and sitting beside rotting death for days, and you insist on looking worse than the both of us. Way to steal our thunder, you douche.”
---
Mal rubbed his throat, still a little tender from the clothesline he’d gotten a couple minutes ago. Which reminded him. Reaching out, he clapped a hand on Max’s shoulder, giving him a solid squeeze and nod in approval. He did well and Mal was proud. Keeping his hand there, he dropped his gaze back to his partners, watching the healers’ hands glow as they worked.
---
Rorie kept quiet mostly as he was worked on, maybe mumbling Garret’s or Mal’s name here and there. Things were rearranging back to where they were supposed to be and by that time, he’d given up and just closed his eyes. The light was burning and making his head ache. Firstly, the shoulder’s bleeding had been stopped and then the actual repairs were being done. Bone and tissue were being put back together seamlessly before the healer moved onto his ribs. His grip on Garret’s hand was light at best, long fingers curled around Garret’s with the tiniest muscle tension to let the older man know that Rorie was still there.
At the end, he felt sore and extremely tired. It felt like he’d run a million miles and had just collapsed down where he was. The healer checked his vitals and made sure he was still breathing properly before saying he was good to be moved, but would be weak for a long while from all the blood loss. Cracking his eyes open, Rorie looked up at Mal and Garret. “Sorry. . . For stealing the. . . Thunder,” he mumbled, half way coherently.
---
Max didn’t flinch as Mal’s hand closed hard on his shoulder. He knew that he had been right in his actions, and he knew that Mal would have done the same if the roles were reversed. Of course, he couldn’t blame the elder for being so emotional in the moment. It had been hard to keep his head level, but Max was used to bloodshed and injuries. Malcoda had been living a softer life lately. Not that he would say that to the elder’s face.
When Rorie spoke again, and Garret broke into a smile, Max got to his feet. “I will check on the others,” he said quietly, stepping past Rorie and following the healers out into the yard. There would be lots of questions from security, and possibly the local police, and Max would help them address it. The husbands needed to be alone right now.
---
Focusing on the healers, Mal’s attention was pulled away when Max rose to his feet. He was taking on what should have been Mal’s job. What he needed to do. Sighing, he shifted closer to his husbands, grabbing each of their hands. “That’s it. I’m giving you both protection charms. Apparently I just can’t take you humans anywhere,” he gruffed.
---
“Protection charms don’t do much when a vampire is hell bent on eating you,” Rorie mumbled, attempting to push himself up, groaning at the tired feeling his entire body had. “Besides, I just got flung around like a rag doll saving your asses, the both of you. I at least better get a ‘thank you’ or something like one.” Letting out a huff, he stayed still so he didn’t fall back down from his dizzy head. “Maybe a blow job even,” he smirked, half expecting a crack from Garret.
---
“Don’t coddle me, pup,” Garret grunted, not willing to take concern from the healers and certainly not willing to take it from Mal. Besides, Rorie had looked pretty damn near to death, and he was sitting up and living to see another day. Clearly the humans were not doing too badly on the survival front.
Wrapping an arm around Rorie, Garret pulled the younger man’s head onto his shoulder, keeping him close and making absolutely sure that he was okay, that there was a heartbeat, that he hadn’t slipped through Garret’s fingers. He couldn’t take it. “Thank you,” he murmured, kissing the side of Rorie’s head and squeezing Mal’s hand tightly, sort of a silent way to let him know that Rorie was actually okay. “I’ll make sure that Mal gives you that BJ you so well deserve.” Chuckling a little, he paused, then looked over poignantly at Mal. “Wait, what do you mean you can’t take us humans anywhere? You got grabbed <i>before</i> me!”
---
Mal watched the two embrace and just sat back, letting his nose take in everything. Rorie was fine, Garret was his usual stubborn self and other than being slightly panicky, everyone out on the lawn seemed to be doing just fine. He wasn’t even going to touch that blowjob comment. “And how many times have I told you that when I leave suddenly you’re not to follow me,” he tossed back. Glancing towards the kitchen window, he frowned, deciding to change the topic. “A lot of staff and students are outside. Including your friend, Declan.” Mal didn’t know if Garret had seen the dryad strung up or not since it was behind his position in the basement.
---
“Don’t change the subject,” Garret scolded, mainly because Mal was being a total hypocrite and Garret was pretty sure that he knew it. If either he or Rorie had just vanished without a word for a few days, Mal would be the first to head out after them. They could have been in the Vatican, Mal still would have followed.
“You’re not the boss of me. And I wasn’t following you. I didn’t even know you were gone. Though now that I think about it, you didn’t have a bagel for me on Saturday morning, so that should’ve been a clue.” Tugging on Mal’s hand, Garret tried to draw him closer, get him involved in this family hug. Probably against his will.
---
Mal just stared at Garret, letting the man harp. He’d change the subject if it suited him to do so. And it did. “I was taken first, therefore you followed,” the hound smirked. He was in the right and would happily debate it as long as needed. At the tug, Mal did resist. “I should help Max check on everyone outside.” He started to rise to his feet, looking at Garret’s hand expectantly. He needed to be released to check on the others.
---
It was obvious from the look that Garret gave Mal that he wasn’t thrilled about letting him leave, and that if he did go outside then there would be sulking and glaring aplenty. But he did let go of the hound’s hand, wrapping his arm around Rorie instead. “Yup,” he said dismissively. “Guess you should.”
---
“Are we fighting?” Rorie asked, leaning against Garret as he looked between his husbands. “We’re seriously arguing over who followed who when there was no following at all? Way to spoil me kicking a vampire’s ass for you guys.” Of all the times and places, this awkwardness because Mal had to be a badass and Garret had to be stubborn, though Rorie was siding with Garret mostly. “Let’s just hurry up and get home. I’m sticky and gross and it’s not in a fun, sexy way,” Rorie mumbled as he started to walk on his tired legs. “Ask him if he and Max want to ride back with us or not.”
---
Mal sighed and though he knew he should step outside to check on everyone, he didn’t. He stayed where he was, coming up behind Rorie to kiss his temple. The hound even went so far as to whisper “thank you” against his ear, soft enough so that his lycan hearing would pick it up.
---
With a sigh of his own, not unlike Mal’s, Garret got to his feet. “We’re not fighting,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and letting Rorie stand on his own two feet unaided. Rorie didn’t, and probably wouldn’t ever, understand the complicated and stupid way Mal and Garret communicated. Plus, they had just been chained together in a basement for who knew how long. This kind of banter is what had kept their sanity.
“We’re grabbing Max and going home. And if you like, you can tell us all about your badass exploits with the vampire.” For once, Garret was glad that he wasn’t going to be the one behind the wheel.
---
Standing still a moment to catch his balance when Garret let go of him, Rorie followed at a shuffled before getting himself in gear. “I liked this jacket,” he mumbled to himself as he picked at the hole in it. Going outside, he looked at the others that were standing there. It gave him a slight smile. He’d done that. They were alive because of him. Rorie wondered if this was what being a superhero felt like. To be Iron Man or Hawkeye or Batman and to see people alive because of the actions you took. It caused a small, fuzzy feeling in himself as he got his keys out and went to the car with the others.
---
Mal followed the two out, walking behind them and keeping his nose out for anything, checking in with various people by scent. Everyone seemed to be okay, or getting fixed. No one was turned, so that was a bonus. He didn’t have to hunt someone. “Max!” He gestured to the car, a silent command. The pack needed to be together, and Max was pack.
---
Hearing his name, Max’s head whipped up. He had been doing his rounds around the house, checking on people and answering questions and doing whatever was needed of him. Seeing that Mal wanted him, Max excused himself from his current conversation and trotted over, wiping the blood on his hands onto his jeans. “Rorie is good?” he asked, looking the little lemur man over and sniffing the air. He smelled gross, but he looked okay. Then again he always smelled a little gross. Like lemur.
Climbing into the back seat, Max buckled himself in and did a quick head count. All four. He couldn’t remember the last time the whole pack was together like this. It felt a little empty, though, without Cobalt and Maurice.
---
Rorie slipped into the front seat with Max behind him, the other two situating themselves. Pulling out the keys, that were thankfully not broken or destroyed in the fight, he slipped them into the ignition and started the car. The welcoming purr was something that Rorie was glad to hear. Checking quickly, he pulled out and zoomed around in traffic to get home. He wanted to get there as quickly as possible so that they weren’t stopped or pulled over and had to explain all the blood was indeed not from a giant homicide. It was quiet on the way home, but a welcomed one. There’d been too much noise and Rorie was sure that everyone just wanted to get home and rest. He was also sure Mal and Max wanted to burn off their grossness and Garret wanted a shower. Clean up, get food if needed, then bed. All of them. Rorie didn’t care if they couldn’t sleep or not. He’d turn on the TV and leave it on for them to watch, but he wanted them all together, even if it meant no sleep because of Star Trek episodes. </lj-cut>