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Thought I’d post this one-shot here in case anyone would like to check it out!

Not a ship fic, just a peek at what I think the relationship between Star and Marko might’ve been like.

—

“Star.” David drawls, and Star lets her eyes fall shut as she hears the amusement in his voice.

“You’re with Marko.”

She pries her eyes back open, looking towards Marko who offers nothing but a wink and finger wave in return.

It’s his usual playful fashion, but Star can tell by the stiffness in his body that he isn’t pleased, not in the slightest.

But he won’t say so, won’t disagree with David. None of them did really, but especially not Marko.

I don't know if I should cry or feel relieved that she got rid of her boyfriend, I just know that I would love to see the continuation of the reader with the boys😍

New Thrall

AU: Star is the sire, reader gets cucked by her terrible boyfriend Michael (or was he just under her thrall?), also no laddie bc these Headcanons are NSFW, Star is a girl boss but at what cost 🥲

Bro I just hurt my own feelings oml, this wasn’t intentional but hey @britany1997 I got some more headcanons for you lol

Warnings: angst, cucking, reader gets treated like a trading card, and toy, hints at dubcon/noncon, hints at hypno

-it started on your first night in Santa Carla, hand in hand with your boyfriend Michael you took in the sights around you.

-the distance between you two was cold, on the outside, you still looked madly in love with each other, but honestly the passion had dried up months ago.

-you two had found each other just when your lives seemed to fall apart. While Michael’s home life was somewhat elevated when his parents got a divorce, your home life only got worse.

-you two were mostly friends now, you were hanging on to the lingering affection you two had shared and Michael was comfortable, you two got along, both his brother and mother loved you, and it’s not like he had any better options. So when you got kicked out of your house while they were packing up to leave for Santa Carla, Michael allowed you to tag along. Despite the withering chemistry between you two.

-and then Michael, seemingly transfixed on something, or someone, dashed out of the concert venue, with both Sam and you following behind.

-you didn’t notice who he was following and Sam wouldn’t tell you either, only looking at Michael with increasingly obvious worry.

-brushing you off, Michael went off on his own, so you tagged along with Sam to the comic store, Sam trying to lift your spirits.

-to be fair, Sam did succeed, until you met back up with Michael who was practically drooling over some bikers.

-no not the bikers, but a beautiful girl with one of the bikers.

-this had disturbed you for obvious reasons, so much so you followed him out to the boardwalk the next night.

-you helped him pick out a ‘rocker’ outfit, bitterly swallowing the implications of this and before you could work up the courage to break up, already seeing the alarm bells, the beautiful girl had whispered something in his ear and it was like you didn’t exist anymore.

-You were panicking now, you rode on Michael’s bike, and it was clear how he could and would abandon you here in order to impress the new girl. As the bikers from before invited Michael to the ‘Hudson’s bluff’

-before he could drive away with ‘Star’ in tow you asked how will you get home urgently, looking in Michael’s eyes, trying to find any indication that it crossed his mind.

-instead, his eyes were cloudy, as if he was completely high, or on auto pilot. As one of the bikers asked who you were, and Michael quickly answered ‘a friend’

-it was Star who suggested that you come with, despite wanting nothing more than to crawl your way back home, catching her eyes suddenly and now it was like following them was the only choice you had despite the sinking feeling you had in your stomach.

-reaching the cave you look around in wonder, perhaps too long, as when you go to sit down you realise that all the seats were taken, with only the couch in the corner away from everyone was available.

-fortunately, depending on how you view it, the bikers were more then willing to drag you onto one of their laps, with the spikes haired blonde, who you learned was Paul, winning out. Squeezed between Marko and Dwayne, you were almost boxed in. It felt claustrophobic as the three boys teased you, only to be mostly ignored as you watch Michael and Star whisper to each other. Paul pinched at your sides, chuckling at your squeaks and grumbles as you heartbrokenly watch your boyfriend and Star.

-Michael didn’t look your way once, even as you were being practically groaped by these bikers. It was actually Star, who even looked your way, but she only smiled with smug sympathy. Nodding towards Marko who brought over a finely decorated bottle. Michael drank from it eagerly, and Star climbed into his lap, straddling him. He only groaned with delight as she grinds her hips down. You truly couldn’t believe your eyes. Everyone was quiet as they watched the scene unfold.

- “Michael?” Star asked. “Yes?” He replied breathlessly. “She’s your girlfriend isn’t she?” Neither of them looked at you. Michael didn’t hesitate to answer yes this time, which filled you with false hope. Only to cruelly break you back down into reality as Star asked. “Do you want her?” “No. I only want you!” He didn’t hesitate. Star giggled as if he was telling a joke, and Michael beamed at her laugh. You wanted to die.

-“If you don’t want her, can my boys have her? They seemed to have taken a liking to her, and they’ve behaved so well recently” Michael grinds his hips up, smiling as Star leans down to kiss him. “Yes I don’t care.”

-you try to leap up to leave, but Paul’s arms were like vice. Star turns to the boys, looking past you as if you weren’t there. “I want her to watch.” Meeting your eyes briefly, you were suddenly compelled to follow her command.

-you watch horrified, as Michael undos Star’s shirt, kissing up her stomach reverently. His hands teasing at her flesh, palming at her breasts. Star’s head rolls back as she moans sweetly.

-Standing on shaking legs, she hikes her skirt up enough so that you can see her hook a leg around his shoulder, and he eagerly starts to lick and suck at her pussy.

-the sounds of suckling and kissing was echoing off the cave walls as Star moaned in earnest.

-you couldn’t look away but your eyes watered as you remember how Michael refuted you on returning the favour as you had sucked him off many times before.

-Star’s hips shake and buck onto his waiting mouth as she grabs his curly hair, his own hands grabbing and squeezing her ass.

-“ah! Ah! Ah!” Star moaned loudly, giggling as she looked down on your heartbroken face, having no choice to meet her eye. “Your ex is- ahh~ quite talented, I’m sure you must be disappointed yeah? You really don’t have to worry, I’ll satisfy him so he won’t stray. It’s your job now to satisfy my boys, pay close attention to my lesson so they won’t leave you too!”

-Star giggles between her moans, on a high that’s only reaching higher. She didn’t doubt her boys would be quite taken with you, but she’d be lying if your humiliated crying face didn’t turn her on.

-letting herself cum while she humps Michael’s face, he eagerly helps her ride it out, as the sound of her moaning and Michael’s work drowns out your small sobs.

-she lifts her leg off his shoulder, her hand rubbing at his cheek fondly. She could take him back to her nest now, but she wanted to ‘teach’ you, break both you and Michael by the time she’s done.

-you watch as Star unbuckles his belt, his cock popping out quickly from his underwear and Star immediately sinks down. This time Michael moans loudly, he had always been sensitive.

-Star starts riding him with no hesitation nor does she break a sweat, kissing him sweetly as they get lost in eachother.

-you can feel the others get restless under you, pinching and fondling sensitive areas but you were not allowed to look away.

-sounds of their hips slapping together was deafening as she speeds up, Michael thrusting up to meet her.

-they both cum together, something you thought only happened in cheesy erotica novels, and they continue going. Michael rolling over her to thrust into her lewdly.

-from this angel you can see the cum gush out of her but she only smiles happily.

-rolling her had to the side to face the others, Michael kisses down her neck. Speaking brokenly as she’s pounded into the couch, she gives her boys the green light.

-looking back at you she says “you’ll let them indulge until they’re satisfied right? That’s what’s really important here, it’s not like you have a boyfriend anymore.”

Part Three: Outlaws Of Santa Carla (The Lost Boys Fanfiction/Western American Fanfiction AU Fanfiction)🤠🦇✨🖤

If Paul was to be turned, he was going without a fight.

Slipping through the branches of the trees with far from graceful grabs for the bark, only his fear in the silence of the woods propelled him. The canopy  of dark green clustered pines remained still, not a needle moving among the darkness. 

Night had come as everyday promised and with it was the truth that he would be caught. He didn't have the speed or the strength that Marko had or the hunger to hunt him in return. Paul had become prey now, losing his place as the shadow watching from afar as others found themselves trembling in his current position. 

"Only a few hours 'till sunrise, then you can see yourself out of here. Only a few more hours." Paul's voice remained as a soft echo in his head as every thought was aided with a weak attempt to regain a steady breath. 

Gripping on to the grooves of the tree, holsting himself farther into the crook of the thickest limbs, forcing himself into a much more comfortable position. Would he really have the will to hurt his closest friend or would he have to give in to his friend's monstrous actions? It was clear that Marko didn't want him dead but had a far worst fate in mind. Either he could accept the curse and live as a social outcast or try his best at taking down Marko and getting away scot free with a well crafted story of his heroism and fight with a dangerous vampire. He could be the hero that he had always strived to be. He could do something in honor of his father for one last time.

Paul felt a tear prickle at the thought of the day he had taken down his father, the person closest to him and it had been the worst agony that one could dream of suffering. 

Could he do it again? 

Paul's thoughts were becoming more and more overwhelming, blocking out the world around and below him. Armed with nothing but a stolen military knife and an empty pistol, his chance of hunting Marko in return was far too slim to even revisit those thoughts. 

A rustle through the branches facing him snaches him from his thoughts as the forest lit with life. The cries and songs of the once silent birds of the forest filled that air so loud that gripping his ears became an instant response. The beating of wings sounded louder than his heart.

Kicking out at the slant in the tree, bark explodes from the surface, raining down on the ground below. 

"I'm gonna die!" Reaching out for a higher hanging branch, his fingers barely found the separated twigs, pulling a few of the, off before gaining a stable hold. Blood dripped down his wrist as he held on tighter to the branch, swaying under his weight. 

"You aren't gonna die, Paul. You're gonna live forever." A shadow hunched over the adjacent branch, hands on knees, golden eyes glaring and an array of forest dwelling birds perched on his shoulders. The gleam of a black and silver dagger slicing through the air caught Paul's eyes. The very thing that could save him or turn him. 

Letting go of the branch, his stomach dropped.

Marco darted forward through the branches, weapon extended but not close enough to meet with Paul's skin. With barely enough time to balance on the branch below him, Paul summoned all the strength possible and swung forward. Grabbing  his friend with a strength that he never knew that he had within him, the slant branch snapped. Paul fought for a grip on something, anything, but the claws of his friend dragged him farther into the air. Falling through the splay of branches, Paul had already come to terms with defeat. 

The flock of birds surrounded them in a cloud of black, each one pecking at his skin and attempting to claw through the thickness of his hair. 

Paul, barely able to make out Marko kept pushing against him, ignoring the fear of the steady fall to win. A sharp ring and the scream of Marko echoes as the branches of a short pine crash into Marko, tangling them both in a mess of pine needles. Holding on to him, both float feet above the forest floor as if they had never fallen. 

It hit him with a sharp knowing like no other, They are floating.

He had seen Marko do it, but as he held on to his friend, so was he. 

Searching his friend for the thing they had crossed endless miles for, he found nothing.

"Where is the dagger?" Paul screamed over the beat of one hundred wings, grabbing Marko's chin and tilting it so that their eyes met. 

Marko simply snarled, fangs dangerously close to his flesh. His nails could rip him apart but aided with adrenaline, he was numb to the steady scraping of claws on his sides. 

Marko's empty hands drive Paul deeper into a frenzy of anxiety. "Marko, you need that dagger."

With that, the air that had once held him so tight let go without warning, leaving him snatching at the air. 

"A vampire is only as wise as his wit and strength. A wise vampire with none of that would have it better as vampire hunter bait. Leave the wiseness to the witches, Laddie boy, if you want to live."

- David, (Of Sharp Stones🌊)

Part one of (Of Sharp Stones, a lost boys fanfiction) "Ocean" coming soon after aesthetics, playlist, prologue and plot release on Wednesday 12th, 2023.

🌊OF SHARP STONES🌊

SECTION ONE: OCEAN

Chapter: Introduction//Prologue

Fandom: The Lost Boys (1987)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Blood, Violence, Witch hunting, Witch burning, Witchcraft, Trauma and Character death.

Summary: A coven of witches living on the beach of Santa Carla have to deal with the death of their leader after a lethal witch burning that leads to the bounty hunting of both them and their romantic partners, the notorious lost boys of Santa Carla. Yet, something more terrifying lives in Santa Carla and it's the spirits of those killed by the hunting, begging for revenge.

Note: Please Like and Repost! It would be much appreciated. Thank you so much!!!

Fanfiction playlist:

🎠Kimora🎠

Night has long fallen.

Upon the pier sits a gathering of birds, crying out my summons within their own strange language. The beat of their wings, silvery and onyx along with the song of their caws once had filled me with awe. Now it's only a nuisance and a reflection of my shortcomings.

A witch without her familiar is as dangerous as holding a wild viper, no protection in her craft or against those who seek to harm her. The birds call out to a familiar seeking a witch but it seems that all of them are too far from earshot.

"Maybe they're dead, Kimora." The blonde lays across my lap, his blue eyes tinted with flecks of gold. "Or deaf."

"Don't speak of misfortune." I'm quick to hush him. "Paul, you know what happens when a witch loses her familiar or worse, never finds them."

"Maybe you have found them." Paul reaches for my hand, his bracelets shimmering and clinking against mine.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Star has David. She lost her familiar but with him, she seems quite fine." Our hands intertwine, the cold of his fingers becoming less bothersome with the passing of months. They cling on to the warmth of a recent feeding, but it's quickly passing, leaving the warm tone of his skin to pale to his unique silvery gleam.

"But she's not. You can't be my familiar, Paul. That doesn't even sound right." I lean back and listen to the magic below, the blue and turquoise waves crashing on the shore of the beach. It sounds much like electric currents, shifting through the waves, up and under the crash in the way that fish do.

"Oh, am I far too lame, not magical enough?" The dramatic part of him itches to push at my core but I can barely hinder my laugh, the true me that all the harsh training and shadow work could never bury away for good.

"No way."

"Then what is it?" Lifting himself, he throws his head back to slap me in the face with his golden hair. His beads and bangles chime softly, even the hook of sapphire stone and vibrant sea glass I hooked in his hair creates their own song.

"You don't understand witches. Our familiars can't be humans."

"You talk about witches like you're some kinda secret club, much like us vampires but witches always have to be superior, you can't sit with us types." Paul jokes around. "Well, I'm not human."

"Familiars have to be ancient spirits in the form of animals," I say, pretending to be tired of going back and forth with him. "Not human, not vampire, not werewolf, not witch."

"I know." His breaths slow. "But what about us? When that animal comes, cat, dog, or whatever you'll have less time for me. Less time for our jukebox dinners, less time to play records or shred a guitar with me. I'm scared that I'm gonna lose you."

Paul has always been the small feeling of warmth that lasts in my heart through the lonely nights, the reason I would sneak away from the coven's beach house at twilight. When I had first met him I was far different, plump with pecan tan skin and a hunger for familiarity, a hunger for the snow-capped mountains and the endless wildness of home.

Now my muscles have formed from straining the magic within my blood, dancing with it, and burning my skin under the scorching Santa Carla sun. My body, one I was unhappy in had grown consistent in muscle mass, yet, still, I've found no peace in my self-perception. Paul was a force to be reckoned with on his own but still, somehow he'd remained playful and carefree.

It was what drew me to him amongst other listable things, of course.

He was the cool water on the scorching sand.

"Do you really think a familiar will change things?" I lift my hand to his face, cupping his cheek.

"You'll be doing much more magic." He whispers. "You and the coven might disband."

"Never."

"Star left the coven and joined us." He looks off in the distance as a ship rings its bell across the waves. The chime echoes in my head, ringing as I try not to get lost in my thoughts.

"She lost her familiar. It was no way that we could convince her that she was still one of us. She was also terrified of her family's judgment." I hold his hand tight.

We both sit in silence as the ship passes below us, heading towards the boardwalk. Leaning against his shoulder, I wonder if he truly believes it. Lines of bright gold lights up a clear path through the ocean as the blue and white hunk of metal slices through the waves.

"And you know how much Darla loves Marko and Dwayne has the hots for Angel."

"Yeah."

"Your uncontrollable powers and my hunger for blood." He chuckles. "We make one deadly duo."

"And none of us will age." I say. "We'll always be young."

I stand up, called to the trees by something that rings through my blood like the bells of the ships docked. I know it isn't that though because this sound is far too strong. It isn't tangible or has a source I can pinpoint. Though, it's personal.

Paul stands with me, the metal decor of his jacket jingling softly as we leave the wooden pier and head toward the beach. He silently follows close, not questioning my reasoning as he used to. It's our ever-growing trust combined with the little things that my magic has found that keep him from stopping me. Antiques and small trinkets, sometimes trespassers on witchland that made him a nice blood snack, and another picture on the missing board.

The lights of the ferris wheel and the millions of attractions splayed out across the boardwalk catch my eye but the feelings running strong through my veins keep me on my path, strengthening it so that if I wanted to break away from it, my attempts would be in vain.

The wood of the pier disappears into metal gates, chain link fences, and sand as we cross the threshold, the waters fading into golden sand stretches and shrubs. The salty smell of the water fills my nostrils, a smell that took nearly six months to get used to.

My eyes stay on the trees swaying in the wind, the shadows that dance on the forest floor through the space where light pierces through the veil of darkness. The birds on the pier, the servants of the witches lift and fade into the night as flashes of black.

Maybe it's my familiar. I doubt it though.

My feet don't stop as Paul steps to my side, his eyes filled with worry and a silent plea to turn around. It's unclear if he can sense that something is wrong. If even the vampire feels the stillness in the air, I know I should note.

The tree branches poke into my sides as I slap them away, moving farther and farther through the forest. They leave scars on my face, drawing blood as the pines reach out. The ground thins but my feet are dragged along by a sensation burning through my body, seeping into every part of my being. The sweet smell of pine hangs on the leaves, getting stronger with each step.

"No!" I fall to my knees as the earth slants downward, leaving me without a foothold as Paul does the same. Shocked, even he's not fast enough to hold us both up as we plummet down into the earth's pore.

Through the crashing and thrashing, nothing holds me. With every rock that my feet touch, they simply fall with me and the awkwardly twisting branches snap.

I dislodge pieces of the earth as I grapple at stones, slippery with what feels like ocean mist. My feet kick up stones and gravel as I fall. Paul calls me as he half floats, half falls through the space.

"Blood!"

Halfway through calling me, he stops.

With one last slam into the earth, it all gives away and I hit the ground with no warning. Pines cones and needles lay under my back with the occasional stone ripping into my skin.

The sky hangs above dotted with thousands of blinking stars, twisting and twirling in the night sky. They fall around the moon as if in mourning, a sign that had only happened during the final witch trials, the symbol that marked the last burning, never happening before or again in history.

Crunching on the leaves breaks my eyes away from the sky, the panic of Paul reminding me that this isn't some weird dream. That this is real and my blood, the life of me led me here.

"Kimmy." His hands find my face.

I look up and see his fangs and the tremble of his body, the attempt to keep himself from vamping out.

"What?" I lift my eyes to the circle of sticks that surround me against the trees, each stick only a few feet away from the other in the clearing with charred lumps attached to them with the smell of magic and blood in the air. I can barely make out what they are, but like some ancient connection that ignites the primal fear of all witches, I scream loud and guttural.

I gasp, dragging myself up despite the pain in my back and arms. My feet threaten to drag me back down as Paul fights against his hunger and true nature.

"No. No. No!" I scream to the poles, to the bones that remain, and the blood that seeps from the pine wood to the earth. Small crosses litter the earth, poking up from the litter of dried-out pine needles.

My magic threatens to burst from my veins and set the entirety of Santa Carla's forest ablaze but Paul's grip on me keeps me restrained. Not that could but I would do anything to calm my anger and fear.

The memories of this place go straight to my head with a hazy fog as I touch a torn piece of fabric from a frilly young witch's blouse that hangs on the splinters of the partially burnt pole.

The scene comes to me. It smells of sage and warm cinnamon pies, the dinners of the witches of the bluff, a coven far from the boardwalk but within walking distance of the beach. They had always been rather kind but different from my coven.

The witches of the bluff were far more open with magic as the sight of tarot cards, wands, crystal balls, and herbs come to mind, attractions to bring in humans, to make money.

The scene shifts to darkness, of the blue-tinted sky of the evening shifting into the night, of the first stars blinking around the moon. They're alive.

Screams come next and magic, oh, glorious magic. Gold and pink, cobalt and deep green as men dressed in black march with each witch carried and dragged with rope, their powers subdued with flames upon wooden sticks wrapped with cloth.

A young hippie witch, much younger than me, dressed in pink falls to the ground as a man pulls on her ropes with a cruel laugh that boils my blood. Pieces of sleeves rip as she fights against a pole, her magic, a flash of bright yellow flares from her palm so bright that the man who holds her rope shrieks.

She's so ferocious and strong but in the face of hatred, in the face of terrified men, she's nothing but a weak attempt.

I gasp, my lungs burning as life returns to me and the past fades away. The witches are no longer fighting for the last bits of life. They're long gone, burnt corpses above us like angels of death.

Paul holds me tight, suppressing his hunger. His claws dig into my skin as I linger at the foot of a pole.

My head twirls again and I hear her voice. The voice of our High Priestess calling in my head, her cries strained by sobs and gasps for air. Between her screams for help is the sound of leaves crunching as something heavy drags across the earth.

Her life flashes away like smoke, the scene of ropes binding her hands as magic the color of fire spills from her fingers as she tried to do what was right fades.

I know her intentions as if they're my own. She gave her life as the ropes of death snatched her noble existence away in little more than a few seconds. Now our coven is without a leader. Without a teacher, without a figure to keep us strong.

She's dead, snatched away from my coven when I should have been right at her side, even if that meant death.

And I'm without a glimpse of the faces and the bloody hands that took her away from me.

🌊OF SHARP STONES🌊

SECTION ONE: OCEAN

Chapter: Introduction//Prologue

Fandom: The Lost Boys (1987)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Blood, Violence, Witch hunting, Witch burning, Witchcraft, Trauma and Character death.

Summary: A coven of witches living on the beach of Santa Carla have to deal with the death of their leader after a lethal witch burning that leads to the bounty hunting of both them and their romantic partners, the notorious lost boys of Santa Carla. Yet, something more terrifying lives in Santa Carla and it's the spirits of those killed by the hunting, begging for revenge.

Note: Please Like and Repost! It would be much appreciated. Thank you so much!!!

Fanfiction playlist:

🎠Kimora🎠

Night has long fallen.

Upon the pier sits a gathering of birds, crying out my summons within their own strange language. The beat of their wings, silvery and onyx along with the song of their caws once had filled me with awe. Now it's only a nuisance and a reflection of my shortcomings.

A witch without her familiar is as dangerous as holding a wild viper, no protection in her craft or against those who seek to harm her. The birds call out to a familiar seeking a witch but it seems that all of them are too far from earshot.

"Maybe they're dead, Kimora." The blonde lays across my lap, his blue eyes tinted with flecks of gold. "Or deaf."

"Don't speak of misfortune." I'm quick to hush him. "Paul, you know what happens when a witch loses her familiar or worse, never finds them."

"Maybe you have found them." Paul reaches for my hand, his bracelets shimmering and clinking against mine.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Star has David. She lost her familiar but with him, she seems quite fine." Our hands intertwine, the cold of his fingers becoming less bothersome with the passing of months. They cling on to the warmth of a recent feeding, but it's quickly passing, leaving the warm tone of his skin to pale to his unique silvery gleam.

"But she's not. You can't be my familiar, Paul. That doesn't even sound right." I lean back and listen to the magic below, the blue and turquoise waves crashing on the shore of the beach. It sounds much like electric currents, shifting through the waves, up and under the crash in the way that fish do.

"Oh, am I far too lame, not magical enough?" The dramatic part of him itches to push at my core but I can barely hinder my laugh, the true me that all the harsh training and shadow work could never bury away for good.

"No way."

"Then what is it?" Lifting himself, he throws his head back to slap me in the face with his golden hair. His beads and bangles chime softly, even the hook of sapphire stone and vibrant sea glass I hooked in his hair creates their own song.

"You don't understand witches. Our familiars can't be humans."

"You talk about witches like you're some kinda secret club, much like us vampires but witches always have to be superior, you can't sit with us types." Paul jokes around. "Well, I'm not human."

"Familiars have to be ancient spirits in the form of animals," I say, pretending to be tired of going back and forth with him. "Not human, not vampire, not werewolf, not witch."

"I know." His breaths slow. "But what about us? When that animal comes, cat, dog, or whatever you'll have less time for me. Less time for our jukebox dinners, less time to play records or shred a guitar with me. I'm scared that I'm gonna lose you."

Paul has always been the small feeling of warmth that lasts in my heart through the lonely nights, the reason I would sneak away from the coven's beach house at twilight. When I had first met him I was far different, plump with pecan tan skin and a hunger for familiarity, a hunger for the snow-capped mountains and the endless wildness of home.

Now my muscles have formed from straining the magic within my blood, dancing with it, and burning my skin under the scorching Santa Carla sun. My body, one I was unhappy in had grown consistent in muscle mass, yet, still, I've found no peace in my self-perception. Paul was a force to be reckoned with on his own but still, somehow he'd remained playful and carefree.

It was what drew me to him amongst other listable things, of course.

He was the cool water on the scorching sand.

"Do you really think a familiar will change things?" I lift my hand to his face, cupping his cheek.

"You'll be doing much more magic." He whispers. "You and the coven might disband."

"Never."

"Star left the coven and joined us." He looks off in the distance as a ship rings its bell across the waves. The chime echoes in my head, ringing as I try not to get lost in my thoughts.

"She lost her familiar. It was no way that we could convince her that she was still one of us. She was also terrified of her family's judgment." I hold his hand tight.

We both sit in silence as the ship passes below us, heading towards the boardwalk. Leaning against his shoulder, I wonder if he truly believes it. Lines of bright gold lights up a clear path through the ocean as the blue and white hunk of metal slices through the waves.

"And you know how much Darla loves Marko and Dwayne has the hots for Angel."

"Yeah."

"Your uncontrollable powers and my hunger for blood." He chuckles. "We make one deadly duo."

"And none of us will age." I say. "We'll always be young."

I stand up, called to the trees by something that rings through my blood like the bells of the ships docked. I know it isn't that though because this sound is far too strong. It isn't tangible or has a source I can pinpoint. Though, it's personal.

Paul stands with me, the metal decor of his jacket jingling softly as we leave the wooden pier and head toward the beach. He silently follows close, not questioning my reasoning as he used to. It's our ever-growing trust combined with the little things that my magic has found that keep him from stopping me. Antiques and small trinkets, sometimes trespassers on witchland that made him a nice blood snack, and another picture on the missing board.

The lights of the ferris wheel and the millions of attractions splayed out across the boardwalk catch my eye but the feelings running strong through my veins keep me on my path, strengthening it so that if I wanted to break away from it, my attempts would be in vain.

The wood of the pier disappears into metal gates, chain link fences, and sand as we cross the threshold, the waters fading into golden sand stretches and shrubs. The salty smell of the water fills my nostrils, a smell that took nearly six months to get used to.

My eyes stay on the trees swaying in the wind, the shadows that dance on the forest floor through the space where light pierces through the veil of darkness. The birds on the pier, the servants of the witches lift and fade into the night as flashes of black.

Maybe it's my familiar. I doubt it though.

My feet don't stop as Paul steps to my side, his eyes filled with worry and a silent plea to turn around. It's unclear if he can sense that something is wrong. If even the vampire feels the stillness in the air, I know I should note.

The tree branches poke into my sides as I slap them away, moving farther and farther through the forest. They leave scars on my face, drawing blood as the pines reach out. The ground thins but my feet are dragged along by a sensation burning through my body, seeping into every part of my being. The sweet smell of pine hangs on the leaves, getting stronger with each step.

"No!" I fall to my knees as the earth slants downward, leaving me without a foothold as Paul does the same. Shocked, even he's not fast enough to hold us both up as we plummet down into the earth's pore.

Through the crashing and thrashing, nothing holds me. With every rock that my feet touch, they simply fall with me and the awkwardly twisting branches snap.

I dislodge pieces of the earth as I grapple at stones, slippery with what feels like ocean mist. My feet kick up stones and gravel as I fall. Paul calls me as he half floats, half falls through the space.

"Blood!"

Halfway through calling me, he stops.

With one last slam into the earth, it all gives away and I hit the ground with no warning. Pines cones and needles lay under my back with the occasional stone ripping into my skin.

The sky hangs above dotted with thousands of blinking stars, twisting and twirling in the night sky. They fall around the moon as if in mourning, a sign that had only happened during the final witch trials, the symbol that marked the last burning, never happening before or again in history.

Crunching on the leaves breaks my eyes away from the sky, the panic of Paul reminding me that this isn't some weird dream. That this is real and my blood, the life of me led me here.

"Kimmy." His hands find my face.

I look up and see his fangs and the tremble of his body, the attempt to keep himself from vamping out.

"What?" I lift my eyes to the circle of sticks that surround me against the trees, each stick only a few feet away from the other in the clearing with charred lumps attached to them with the smell of magic and blood in the air. I can barely make out what they are, but like some ancient connection that ignites the primal fear of all witches, I scream loud and guttural.

I gasp, dragging myself up despite the pain in my back and arms. My feet threaten to drag me back down as Paul fights against his hunger and true nature.

"No. No. No!" I scream to the poles, to the bones that remain, and the blood that seeps from the pine wood to the earth. Small crosses litter the earth, poking up from the litter of dried-out pine needles.

My magic threatens to burst from my veins and set the entirety of Santa Carla's forest ablaze but Paul's grip on me keeps me restrained. Not that could but I would do anything to calm my anger and fear.

The memories of this place go straight to my head with a hazy fog as I touch a torn piece of fabric from a frilly young witch's blouse that hangs on the splinters of the partially burnt pole.

The scene comes to me. It smells of sage and warm cinnamon pies, the dinners of the witches of the bluff, a coven far from the boardwalk but within walking distance of the beach. They had always been rather kind but different from my coven.

The witches of the bluff were far more open with magic as the sight of tarot cards, wands, crystal balls, and herbs come to mind, attractions to bring in humans, to make money.

The scene shifts to darkness, of the blue-tinted sky of the evening shifting into the night, of the first stars blinking around the moon. They're alive.

Screams come next and magic, oh, glorious magic. Gold and pink, cobalt and deep green as men dressed in black march with each witch carried and dragged with rope, their powers subdued with flames upon wooden sticks wrapped with cloth.

A young hippie witch, much younger than me, dressed in pink falls to the ground as a man pulls on her ropes with a cruel laugh that boils my blood. Pieces of sleeves rip as she fights against a pole, her magic, a flash of bright yellow flares from her palm so bright that the man who holds her rope shrieks.

She's so ferocious and strong but in the face of hatred, in the face of terrified men, she's nothing but a weak attempt.

I gasp, my lungs burning as life returns to me and the past fades away. The witches are no longer fighting for the last bits of life. They're long gone, burnt corpses above us like angels of death.

Paul holds me tight, suppressing his hunger. His claws dig into my skin as I linger at the foot of a pole.

My head twirls again and I hear her voice. The voice of our High Priestess calling in my head, her cries strained by sobs and gasps for air. Between her screams for help is the sound of leaves crunching as something heavy drags across the earth.

Her life flashes away like smoke, the scene of ropes binding her hands as magic the color of fire spills from her fingers as she tried to do what was right fades.

I know her intentions as if they're my own. She gave her life as the ropes of death snatched her noble existence away in little more than a few seconds. Now our coven is without a leader. Without a teacher, without a figure to keep us strong.

She's dead, snatched away from my coven when I should have been right at her side, even if that meant death.

And I'm without a glimpse of the faces and the bloody hands that took her away from me.

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I forgot to do tags last night because I made this post on a schedule last night! I'm sorry for the bother, if you don't want to be tagged anymore just let me know! Thank you guys so much!🌊

🌊OF SHARP STONES🌊

SECTION ONE: OCEAN

Chapter: Introduction//Prologue

Fandom: The Lost Boys (1987)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Blood, Violence, Witch hunting, Witch burning, Witchcraft, Trauma and Character death.

Summary: A coven of witches living on the beach of Santa Carla have to deal with the death of their leader after a lethal witch burning that leads to the bounty hunting of both them and their romantic partners, the notorious lost boys of Santa Carla. Yet, something more terrifying lives in Santa Carla and it's the spirits of those killed by the hunting, begging for revenge.

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🎠Kimora🎠

Night has long fallen.

Upon the pier sits a gathering of birds, crying out my summons within their own strange language. The beat of their wings, silvery and onyx along with the song of their caws once had filled me with awe. Now it's only a nuisance and a reflection of my shortcomings.

A witch without her familiar is as dangerous as holding a wild viper, no protection in her craft or against those who seek to harm her. The birds call out to a familiar seeking a witch but it seems that all of them are too far from earshot.

"Maybe they're dead, Kimora." The blonde lays across my lap, his blue eyes tinted with flecks of gold. "Or deaf."

"Don't speak of misfortune." I'm quick to hush him. "Paul, you know what happens when a witch loses her familiar or worse, never finds them."

"Maybe you have found them." Paul reaches for my hand, his bracelets shimmering and clinking against mine.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Star has David. She lost her familiar but with him, she seems quite fine." Our hands intertwine, the cold of his fingers becoming less bothersome with the passing of months. They cling on to the warmth of a recent feeding, but it's quickly passing, leaving the warm tone of his skin to pale to his unique silvery gleam.

"But she's not. You can't be my familiar, Paul. That doesn't even sound right." I lean back and listen to the magic below, the blue and turquoise waves crashing on the shore of the beach. It sounds much like electric currents, shifting through the waves, up and under the crash in the way that fish do.

"Oh, am I far too lame, not magical enough?" The dramatic part of him itches to push at my core but I can barely hinder my laugh, the true me that all the harsh training and shadow work could never bury away for good.

"No way."

"Then what is it?" Lifting himself, he throws his head back to slap me in the face with his golden hair. His beads and bangles chime softly, even the hook of sapphire stone and vibrant sea glass I hooked in his hair creates their own song.

"You don't understand witches. Our familiars can't be humans."

"You talk about witches like you're some kinda secret club, much like us vampires but witches always have to be superior, you can't sit with us types." Paul jokes around. "Well, I'm not human."

"Familiars have to be ancient spirits in the form of animals," I say, pretending to be tired of going back and forth with him. "Not human, not vampire, not werewolf, not witch."

"I know." His breaths slow. "But what about us? When that animal comes, cat, dog, or whatever you'll have less time for me. Less time for our jukebox dinners, less time to play records or shred a guitar with me. I'm scared that I'm gonna lose you."

Paul has always been the small feeling of warmth that lasts in my heart through the lonely nights, the reason I would sneak away from the coven's beach house at twilight. When I had first met him I was far different, plump with pecan tan skin and a hunger for familiarity, a hunger for the snow-capped mountains and the endless wildness of home.

Now my muscles have formed from straining the magic within my blood, dancing with it, and burning my skin under the scorching Santa Carla sun. My body, one I was unhappy in had grown consistent in muscle mass, yet, still, I've found no peace in my self-perception. Paul was a force to be reckoned with on his own but still, somehow he'd remained playful and carefree.

It was what drew me to him amongst other listable things, of course.

He was the cool water on the scorching sand.

"Do you really think a familiar will change things?" I lift my hand to his face, cupping his cheek.

"You'll be doing much more magic." He whispers. "You and the coven might disband."

"Never."

"Star left the coven and joined us." He looks off in the distance as a ship rings its bell across the waves. The chime echoes in my head, ringing as I try not to get lost in my thoughts.

"She lost her familiar. It was no way that we could convince her that she was still one of us. She was also terrified of her family's judgment." I hold his hand tight.

We both sit in silence as the ship passes below us, heading towards the boardwalk. Leaning against his shoulder, I wonder if he truly believes it. Lines of bright gold lights up a clear path through the ocean as the blue and white hunk of metal slices through the waves.

"And you know how much Darla loves Marko and Dwayne has the hots for Angel."

"Yeah."

"Your uncontrollable powers and my hunger for blood." He chuckles. "We make one deadly duo."

"And none of us will age." I say. "We'll always be young."

I stand up, called to the trees by something that rings through my blood like the bells of the ships docked. I know it isn't that though because this sound is far too strong. It isn't tangible or has a source I can pinpoint. Though, it's personal.

Paul stands with me, the metal decor of his jacket jingling softly as we leave the wooden pier and head toward the beach. He silently follows close, not questioning my reasoning as he used to. It's our ever-growing trust combined with the little things that my magic has found that keep him from stopping me. Antiques and small trinkets, sometimes trespassers on witchland that made him a nice blood snack, and another picture on the missing board.

The lights of the ferris wheel and the millions of attractions splayed out across the boardwalk catch my eye but the feelings running strong through my veins keep me on my path, strengthening it so that if I wanted to break away from it, my attempts would be in vain.

The wood of the pier disappears into metal gates, chain link fences, and sand as we cross the threshold, the waters fading into golden sand stretches and shrubs. The salty smell of the water fills my nostrils, a smell that took nearly six months to get used to.

My eyes stay on the trees swaying in the wind, the shadows that dance on the forest floor through the space where light pierces through the veil of darkness. The birds on the pier, the servants of the witches lift and fade into the night as flashes of black.

Maybe it's my familiar. I doubt it though.

My feet don't stop as Paul steps to my side, his eyes filled with worry and a silent plea to turn around. It's unclear if he can sense that something is wrong. If even the vampire feels the stillness in the air, I know I should note.

The tree branches poke into my sides as I slap them away, moving farther and farther through the forest. They leave scars on my face, drawing blood as the pines reach out. The ground thins but my feet are dragged along by a sensation burning through my body, seeping into every part of my being. The sweet smell of pine hangs on the leaves, getting stronger with each step.

"No!" I fall to my knees as the earth slants downward, leaving me without a foothold as Paul does the same. Shocked, even he's not fast enough to hold us both up as we plummet down into the earth's pore.

Through the crashing and thrashing, nothing holds me. With every rock that my feet touch, they simply fall with me and the awkwardly twisting branches snap.

I dislodge pieces of the earth as I grapple at stones, slippery with what feels like ocean mist. My feet kick up stones and gravel as I fall. Paul calls me as he half floats, half falls through the space.

"Blood!"

Halfway through calling me, he stops.

With one last slam into the earth, it all gives away and I hit the ground with no warning. Pines cones and needles lay under my back with the occasional stone ripping into my skin.

The sky hangs above dotted with thousands of blinking stars, twisting and twirling in the night sky. They fall around the moon as if in mourning, a sign that had only happened during the final witch trials, the symbol that marked the last burning, never happening before or again in history.

Crunching on the leaves breaks my eyes away from the sky, the panic of Paul reminding me that this isn't some weird dream. That this is real and my blood, the life of me led me here.

"Kimmy." His hands find my face.

I look up and see his fangs and the tremble of his body, the attempt to keep himself from vamping out.

"What?" I lift my eyes to the circle of sticks that surround me against the trees, each stick only a few feet away from the other in the clearing with charred lumps attached to them with the smell of magic and blood in the air. I can barely make out what they are, but like some ancient connection that ignites the primal fear of all witches, I scream loud and guttural.

I gasp, dragging myself up despite the pain in my back and arms. My feet threaten to drag me back down as Paul fights against his hunger and true nature.

"No. No. No!" I scream to the poles, to the bones that remain, and the blood that seeps from the pine wood to the earth. Small crosses litter the earth, poking up from the litter of dried-out pine needles.

My magic threatens to burst from my veins and set the entirety of Santa Carla's forest ablaze but Paul's grip on me keeps me restrained. Not that could but I would do anything to calm my anger and fear.

The memories of this place go straight to my head with a hazy fog as I touch a torn piece of fabric from a frilly young witch's blouse that hangs on the splinters of the partially burnt pole.

The scene comes to me. It smells of sage and warm cinnamon pies, the dinners of the witches of the bluff, a coven far from the boardwalk but within walking distance of the beach. They had always been rather kind but different from my coven.

The witches of the bluff were far more open with magic as the sight of tarot cards, wands, crystal balls, and herbs come to mind, attractions to bring in humans, to make money.

The scene shifts to darkness, of the blue-tinted sky of the evening shifting into the night, of the first stars blinking around the moon. They're alive.

Screams come next and magic, oh, glorious magic. Gold and pink, cobalt and deep green as men dressed in black march with each witch carried and dragged with rope, their powers subdued with flames upon wooden sticks wrapped with cloth.

A young hippie witch, much younger than me, dressed in pink falls to the ground as a man pulls on her ropes with a cruel laugh that boils my blood. Pieces of sleeves rip as she fights against a pole, her magic, a flash of bright yellow flares from her palm so bright that the man who holds her rope shrieks.

She's so ferocious and strong but in the face of hatred, in the face of terrified men, she's nothing but a weak attempt.

I gasp, my lungs burning as life returns to me and the past fades away. The witches are no longer fighting for the last bits of life. They're long gone, burnt corpses above us like angels of death.

Paul holds me tight, suppressing his hunger. His claws dig into my skin as I linger at the foot of a pole.

My head twirls again and I hear her voice. The voice of our High Priestess calling in my head, her cries strained by sobs and gasps for air. Between her screams for help is the sound of leaves crunching as something heavy drags across the earth.

Her life flashes away like smoke, the scene of ropes binding her hands as magic the color of fire spills from her fingers as she tried to do what was right fades.

I know her intentions as if they're my own. She gave her life as the ropes of death snatched her noble existence away in little more than a few seconds. Now our coven is without a leader. Without a teacher, without a figure to keep us strong.

She's dead, snatched away from my coven when I should have been right at her side, even if that meant death.

And I'm without a glimpse of the faces and the bloody hands that took her away from me.

🌊OF SHARP STONES🌊

SECTION ONE: OCEAN 

POV: Kimora

Chapter: Chapter One

Fandom: The Lost Boys (1987)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Blood, Violence, Witch hunting, Witch burning, Witchcraft, Trauma and Character death.

Summary: A coven of witches living on the beach of Santa Carla have to deal with the death of their leader after a lethal witch burning that leads to the bounty hunting of both them and their romantic partners, the notorious lost boys of Santa Carla. Yet, something more terrifying lives in Santa Carla and it's the spirits of those killed by the hunting, begging for revenge.

Note: Please Like and Repost! It would be much appreciated. Thank you so much!!!

Playlist Link:

"Yes!"

I swing my hands in the air, stealing the water vapor from the atmosphere with little more than a thought and the pain of overexertion. A flare of white forms in the air, creating a cloud that aims itself toward the well-toned girl only a few footsteps away. Her hair, long and the deep shade of coconut is mixed with pure white highlights that shimmer and shine like the works of a very bad glamour magic attempt.

Her familiar, a chow chow lays in the sand, watching as the event unfolds between us.

A clap and a whistle from one of my biggest fans forces me to bite back a smile as I barely get away from the witch's hand. She's fast but I'm stronger and bigger and the only way that I'll win this battle is to use that to my advantage.

Eyes the color of a rare blood moon gleam at me as the cloud slices through her weapon, a wand made of pine wood and tarnishing copper. I arch back as she darts at me, her fist outstretched for my jaw but only finding my shoulder. I wobble backwards but stay afoot, moving away from her next blow.

Reaching for her wrist, I bury my nails into her skin and drag her onto the sand with a snag. The girl's eyes widen, the red glamor leaving them for her natural hazel with a blink and a yep for help.

"Conclude!" The referee, a young girl about seven years old runs to stop us, her raven black braids flying behind her. Her eyes, two large brown balls of light look between us with worry.

"Heard, Zefra." I say, offering my arm to Hannah, the sun-kissed girl who drags herself up from the earth.

"You owe me another wand." Hannah grins, dusting herself off. "You might have won the fight, but I won a new stick."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." I snort as she reaches for my arm.

Before I can jerk away, my knees give away and the scorching ground burns my arms with unrelenting viciousness. Hannah says something under her breath as I lay in the sun with Zefra asking me a hundred times if I'm alright.

"I'm fine, Zefra." I huff as my skin starts to sting. "Just disappointed in myself."

"But you won." The dark-skinned girl looks at me with a soft sadness.

"I know."

"Then why are you disappointed?"

"Because I'm not perfect. One day I will be but right now, I'm gonna give myself hell until my form is undefeated."

"I thought you were great! And that cloud! You aren't even a storm witch and you did that with ease! Maybe you could teach me, Kim!" Her hand finds mine and I pull myself up to give her the illusion that her strength has grown.

"Maybe I'll be your mentor when the time comes."

Her smile grows so big that it makes my heart leap in my chest.

"Maybe you'll find your familiar too." I stand up as she says the very thing that I've been trying to forget.

Even after the horrible event of the destruction of the bluff's coven and the death of Ruth, my coven's leader, my familiar hadn't come to me. Things had gotten worse for us witches, as we had been forced to reduce our training and day-to-day lifestyle.

Even the waters had become agitated, forcing the human dominations to ban the surfers and the fishermen from taking to the waters. The spirits of the bluff's witches ran to the sea, finding comfort in the waves but even within the cobalt, their anger bubbled and raged.

Rightfully so.

"Yeah, maybe." I dust myself off with one hand and keep her hand in the other as we cross the beach towards the gathered witches.

"What do you think they'll look like?"

I shrug. I always imagined the creature would be bigger than the common snake, fox, or rabbit.

"A bloodhound."

"Why?"

"So I can hunt down those men who killed our friends. I want to hunt them like them like the animals that they are."

I don't tell her about the plans that Paul and I had conjured only a few nights after the tragic event. About the ideas that the rest of his lair mates and my coven had thrown in. It shocked me that even the vampires had felt the rage that we had, but alas, Max knew that an attack on us would mean an attack on them.

"Oh. Aren't you scared?" Her bright eyes warm my soul.

"Yeah, but we all are. We have to be to survive." I say, wishing that I could be as strong as the words coming out of my mouth, to be as sure as my steps.

The water hisses from behind me, smacking into the stone wall of earth rising above the waters. Jutting rock shelves hang like swords on a shelf, protecting the upper world from the crashing waves. The saltiness of the ocean fills my every sense, stinging my nose but reminding me of the magic that lives within it.

Zefra looks up in fear as the waves retreat without a body in tow, their hunger for revenge left unquenched.

"How can we please the spirits?" Her small voice asking such a big question catches me off guard.

I don't know.

"No one knows."

She holds my hand tighter as we walk closer to the gathered covens.

"Maybe they're hungry." She whispers.

"You think so?"

The small girl shakes her head. "I know so."

I freeze at her words but before I can clarify just what she meant, she breaks away from me and runs to her coven leader, a pale woman with a heavy amount of black eyeliner and lipstick, her eyes hard on me with something that ranges between distrust and curiosity. Then again, who could blame her?

Any good coven leader would question my motives. It was I who had found the charred remains of the witches with a vampire companion. It was also me who had been too wrecked to help place the bodies to rest before the humans could stump on our sacred lands and destroy what was left of not only our but their dignity.

I wave and dip my head low in respect.

The coven of the twilight hour.

The symbol of a half moon on the leader's arm in the form of a black tattoo clarifies that.

A pigeon pecks at her head, digging its beak in her huge bat's nest of a hairstyle but she seems not to mind it, her gaze locked on mine as she reluctantly returns the gesture.

Her cold expression fades as Zefra embraces her, replaced with a rather soft laugh. I take it as my cue to break the stare, moving off to where my coven of two stands huddled like they've seen a ghost. Even the outgoing Angel, a beam of sunshine seems to be bothered by something.

"Somebody died?" I joke.

"That's not funny." Darla steps forward, her Led Zeppelin shirt stained with its fair share of grit and sand from defeating challenge after challenge except for the last she lost to a girl as fast as lightning.

"Not that it was serious, Darla." I hold my ground as her frown grows deeper.

"Or something I want to bring up." She remains hard.

"Well, I assume that you two are gonna let me know why you're both looking like somebody kicked a puppy." I cross my arm, trying to look tough despite the sun using my head as a target practice.

Angel speaks first, her downward expression forming into one a little better but still quite worrying for her.

"They've been talking about us." Angel keeps her statement short.

"You in particular, as they have for the last weeks-." Darla raises her voice as she keeps going.

"And I should care, why."

"More like why you shouldn't care." Darla snaps. "Let's see, you were seen with a vampire."

"We all date one, keep going." Her pale eyes outlined in dark liner she took from my vanity could rip me apart.

"But you were seen with him in broad moonlight"

"-discovering bodies. If it wasn't for me following my intuition into the woods where their coven is located, who knows what those coven hunters could have done? They should remember the broadness of our situation."

"But they don't see that, Kimora." Angel's voice sounds like a plea. The wild colors of her maxi dress make it hard to focus on her dark brown eyes only a few shades darker than her complexion. "They see what they want to see."

I fight back the shutter in my stomach.

"I don't need to care what they see because I know my intentions. I know what led me there that night and if any of those twilight hour witches try to claw at my name, I'll ask the real question. Why didn't they hear anything, why did our leader have to die when they should have been the first combatants."

"Why are you so adamant?" Darla grabs my arm, the rosary around her neck worn as both a travesty and an attempt to fit in with the humans as a protection cold against my skin.

"Why are you so afraid?" I spit. "We are of the coven of sharp stones, we were never the biggest and now we're the smallest. We can't let them kill off what's left of us."

Darla is never afraid to fight but in front of the other covens would be pure stupid. I hope with the stillness and quiet anger burning in her gaze, something inside of her head is thinking about how right I am.

"Stop it." Angel forces her way between us.

Angel's name is more than fitting if you're relying on the image that comes to a human's head. She is indeed the stereotypical image of the humanoid figure of perfection and love, her beauty and kindness unmatched.

Her heavyset features only add to her goddess appearance, not a blemish on her skin as her stringent self-care routine and perfected glamour magic had paid off.

"Kiki is hungry and if I don't get home, she'll destroy the house." Angel starts, worry edging in her voice for the bobcat.

"You didn't feed her?" I ask.

"No, because if I feed her, she'll still destroy the house trying to find some more food." She lifts her finger. "And today is Laddie's birthday so I have to find him something, we all have to find him something."

Angel narrows her eyes with solemnity. She has come to love the kid almost as much as Dwayne does, if not more. I'm not quite sure who loves him more, Dwayne, Angel, Star, or Paul. Marko is much like David and Darla, silent around the boy with not much to say to him besides a simple, "Hey Kiddo."

"Of course." I nod. "How could I forget."

Only half vampire, like Star, I wonder just how long David or Max would allow Star and Laddie to stay that way.

"You never forget." She pats my hand. "But you-."

She pivots her eyes to the sulking Darla who's already leaving, her copperhead climbing out from the inside of her vest colorful with patches and iron-ons.

"Never mind her." I close my eyes against the sunlight. "Sorry about everything."

"It isn't your fault." I flick my eyes to the now empty beach, the humans only specks farther out towards the mainland closer to the boardwalk.

"There are so many eyes beating down on me, you know what I mean. I want to be perfect, I want to be that girl who holds her punches and laughs it off. The girl who participates in everything and makes everyone feel at home."

"But you aren't that girl. You're the girl who's better at defense magic than memorizing incantations and makes a mean sigil when she needs to. You're the girl who we'd send to walk through danger because your brain completely rotted in the fear department."

"I know and they fear that."

"That's what we love about you. That's what this coven needs." Her lips twitch as she tried to fight back a smile. "That's what Ruth loved, why she let you join with nothing but a stupid Crowley book, a welcome to California notebook, and some herbs which you still have in a box."

My throat trembles as I try to hold back tears and cover it up with more laughable memories.

"She set the Crowley book aflame."

Angel chuckles. "A good choice to be honest. She always knew best."

I try to keep myself as composed as Angel does.

"I miss her."

"Me too." She looks out at the ocean which rears up yet again and strikes, but this time at the humans, dragging some form too close to the warning line of red tap away.

Angel quickly points but I remain tranquil as the people scream and cry out curses to the waters, some running away while a few of the brave dart out to the water to retrieve a man long gone.

When the spirits strike, nothing is left.

Ruth's deep voice rattles through me. I feel it with every fiber of my being.

"We should go." Angel takes my hand. "We need to go."

I shake my head, happy that she said just what I was thinking. "For sure."

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