Jeremy’s plan had been simple.

He didn’t need anybody else. When he’d figured it out, he’d sent three texts: they were to Brandon, Keevian and Satsuki saying it was all a joke.

KerriAnne had told him about the garden where the vampires were placid and even that the bedroom window was there. All he needed to do was walk back to Jesse and Walter’s house during the day, slip in through the garden gate and hide. No fuss, no pain. No vampires to avoid while he went there, no vampires to dodge once the sun went down. Then smash the window, hop in and kill the bastard. After that, it wouldn’t matter what happened to him.

Well, he’d done it just as planned, except that the killer wasn’t there. He faced the vampire’s husband; the little man quivered revoltingly.

Jeremy’s revulsion had nothing to do with Jesse being gay. His parents were grandly generous about accepting same sex couples but Jeremy’s generation just said, “well duh.” Brandon was gay for instance.

His revulsion was because this man had touched the killer, had slept with him.

“Did you know?” he whispered viciously. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about!”

Jesse looked towards the door. Jeremy bounced savagely from the bed, slammed into him with a thud which knocked the breath from both and grabbed the front of his t-shirt. The point of Jeremy’s wooden stake poked into Jesse’s throat. Jesse’s breath whistled.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

“You fucking bastard,” Jeremy said, but he already knew he couldn’t kill the man. He couldn’t kill a living human being. He couldn’t face Sister Amanda having done that.

“You kissed him, you talked with him in bed about the shit he did. Didn’t you?” Jeremy was trying to get up enough hatred to hurt this guy. “You, what, you turned your simpering ass up to him and you probably, like, said ‘do me, killer.’ Didn’t you?!”

“I d-don’t like anal —”

“Shut up!!!”

Almost experimentally, Jeremy poked hard and trickle of blood appeared among the stubble of red whiskers.

Jesse was terrified, nearly hyperventilating.

“She’s dead because of you,” Jeremy tried. He did feel a surge of blind rage. “She’s dead!” he said again.

In his panicked confusion at the word “she,” Jesse said just the wrong thing. “I thought it was your little brother he kil–”

The blind rage roared through Jeremy so that he couldn’t see. He slammed Jesse against the wall and all he knew was that his fists pummeled something that screamed and thrashed. “You fucking, fucking, filthy fucking bastard!” he raged and sobbed punching and stabbing. “You filthy filthy shit!”

He came back to his senses, still clutching the stake. Jesse’s eyes closed and his head lolled. His face was bloody and puffed as Jeremy stepped back and let him slide to the floor beside the door.

The doorknob turned. “Buttercup?” a voice whispered as the door pushed open.

The murderer of his brother was on the other side of that opening door.