Gale's P.O.V

I jogged up the big staircase with it's central runner the color of dried blood. The place was almost eery, especially when I knew there were actually a frickin' lot of fellow nest mates living here, though most were living below, 'How long has it been since I last lived here?'

The place hadn't changed at all, still a lot of hard wood floors, expensive rugs, general rich furnishings. Even with the modernization and care, I still couldn't get the tingling haunted house feel from running its spiderweb fingers along my spine. I did my best to shrug it off as I reached the landing and turned right, heading for the room matching the intricate key's head. One of the previous nest lords had a feel for the dramatic, and therefore had the keys made and doors detailed with different artistic knotting and signs, half of which I wonder whether it was pulled from their saggy, dead ass.

I reached the room all the way down the creeptastic hall, thankful I didn't have to continue any further to any of the various offshoot halls. The door's lock didn't even click, but rumbled as it was unlocked; the door was heavy and thick, the key a big palm-sized mother with a lock nothing to sneeze at. Yep, overdramatic.

And when I flipped the switch, nothing happened. I shouldn't have been surprised, "Well, okay then."

I opened the door wide, walked in, opened the drapes and rose the blinds to let the afternoon sun in on this dreary Sunday of impromptu packing. Yay. Now that that depressing thought was out of the way, I took a look around at the blind kid's room. Bed, a bit bigger than a twin with deep gray sheets and a shaded gray and white comforter; a little rumpled, but surprisingly made. The wooden floor had nothing on it, not even a rug. By the bed was a bedside table with a drawer and large weird-looking alarm clock in front of a really nice set of headphones on its own pedestal. From here I could see into the bathroom as well as into his closet; there was nothing on the dove gray walls. One would expect it to look depressing without much of a color scheme, but instead it looked surprisingly elegant, even mature.

I considered heading back down for the boxes, but figured I could just start arranging the things first, maybe bring some stuff down as I pick up the boxes and go from there. I didn't bother closing the door before starting. Vampires don't need much light at all to see by, but that doesn't mean we enjoy walking around in dark rooms for laughs and giggles. Well, I'm positive the blind kid doesn't mind, but I don't think he does it for laughs and giggles either.

I went into the bathroom, gathered his shower supplied and shoved them into his bedside drawer. It was mostly empty anyway, aside from a weird book which I tossed onto the bed with the rest of them I had grabbed off the shelving built into the wall. There weren't many book-like things and the shelving was mostly empty aside from those and a couple stuffed animals which I also deposited onto said bed.

The closet was creepy as hell with it's color-coding and weird tags, but then I thought 'blind' once more and it made sense. I was grabbing bunches of clothes still attached to hangers to put on the bed when I heard someone at the entrance.

"Dude look, his door's open," My ears perked, mind automatically assigning the label 'dumb jock'.

I heard a sigh, "I can see that, bro." This one sounded just as jock-y but less stupid.

"Think he's in?"

"Pfft, either way, I'm sure this will be fun," Not-so-dumb, dumb jock scoffed, walking in confidently.

"Looks like he's moving," the idiot says, pointing out the obvious.

"Just a pussy running away. Not like he can go anywhere outside the nest, though. He's probably just being moved to another room," I watched from my place in the closet, being sure to get a good hold on their scents as the guy put his foot to the bed and pushed it so it screeched along the floor and into the wall.

"Okay kids, you've had enough fun," I walk out of the closet with a few clothes in my hands. "Leave."

They appeared surprised, but the guy with dirty, blond shoulder length hair doesn't back down, and his buddy copies him, "And why should we do a boring thing such as that?" He takes a step back, which confuses me until he grabs the weird-ass alarm clock and throws it to smash into pieces and rain down onto the floor.

I'm on him in a flash, hands fisted in his shirt as I smash him into the wall, feet dangling. He barely gets out a gasp in surprise that turns into a groan as I push him into the wall while slowly dragging him down to my eye level. His feet don't fully touch the ground and I hold him, keeping him on his toes, "Now, that wasn't very nice of you, was it?" I growl quietly, nose to nose, before sniffing in the smell of his fear.

My right hand leaves him, my left keeping him in place with my hand now on his throat; he chokes and grabs at my hand while my other catches his sidekick by his collar, the punch he tried to connect grazing over my shoulder harmlessly. I dip my foot out to knock his legs from under him as I shove him mercilessly into the wall. Oops. I had been trying not to break the wall. Oh well. I smash them both into the wall again, resigned to the fact that the cracks were now well-spread up the wall.

"Now look what you made me do," I lightly banged them a few more times against the wall, watching as the spiderweb of cracks spread and dustings of what was probably plaster sift gently down on us. "And here I was trying not to damage the wall, but no, you just had to attack with my back turned. And you," I gleefully squeezed his throat a big more, making his eyes bug, "You just had to break that weird-ass clock."

***

I leaned back against the wall, legs crossed, chillaxing on the bed as the two dimwits carefully packed the blind kid's stuff for me. They knew better than to try to get away, and I doubted they were even healed enough to walk without a limp. I chuckled to myself, watching as they visibly shivered in response.

"Don't forget to wire that money to me for the clock," I singsonged the sentence, enjoying their reactions. "Brian. And Jerry? If I have any trouble getting those things out of the boxes later on, you'll be in trou~ble."

I enjoyed watching them stiffen and work more consciously on their tasks. Thankfully, the room was just about packed, and the truck was almost finished being packed with the boxes. Kid had a lot less in general than I had expected a teen to have. It was almost depressing in it's simpleness and voidness of anything naughty. Yes, I checked under the bed. I took a sip of the blood Brian had so kindly brought me earlier, sighing at all I had to go through lately. It's hard being an author... But this is some great material for some of my books.