Converted: Bring the Family, part 10

“You have poisoned him!”
David staggered back and leaned with his back against the kitchen wall, while Francesca ran to him trying to hold him up.
Sharon laughed.
Her first idea had been to pour the black liquid in a beer and have her cousin drink it, but when she had seen his eyes grow wide at the sight of the vial, she had remembered Heidy’s words, about how fast the stuff had worked on her father. So she had just offered the vial to the young man, and while he shook his head and protested, and Francesca hung to his arm pleading him not to do it, he had thrown back his head and swallowed the fluid in a single gulp anyway.
“He’s dying!” Francesca screamed again.
Sharon snorted. “He’s fine,” she said. She walked to the young man and pulled him up, grabbing his arm. “And in a little while he’ll be a lot better.”
“Oh, fuck!” he groaned.
Francesca was staring at her, fear and excitement playing in her pretty face.
“Help me carry him to his room,” Sharon said.

Francesca nodded and slipped under David’s other arm, supporting him as he staggered along the corridor. He held on to the two young women, and Sharon felt a hot hand grasp her left buttock. She suppressed an evil grin, and squeezed his ass in turn. Dave was showing promise.

When Francesca gasped, Sharon turned at her and arched an eyebrow, but the black-haired girl just shook her head. Sharon glanced at Dave’s sweaty hand firmly placed on Francesca’s buttock, and was no longer able to hid her smile.
This was going to be fun.
They pushed inside David’s room, and helped him to the bed.
The room was drab and squalid like everything else about this house. The girls walked the young man to his simple bed, and Sharon piled up the cushions.
David fell on the mattress with a curse, his eyes staring at the ceiling, the pupils dilated and feverish.
“We must call a doctor!” Francesca said.
“A doctor?” Sharon chuckled. “Why don’t you just pray for him to be good?”
Francesca stared daggers at her. “You bitch—” she hissed.
Sharon pretended surprise. “Francesca, darling, language!”
Then she laughed at Francesca’s furious expression.
She could feel the young woman’s spirit boiling inside her, fear and anger mixing with a dark spike of excitement. Sharon knew that brew and knew how powerful it could be.
She had great hopes for sweet raven-haired Francesca.
“He’s going to be super fine,” Sharon said again. She looked around for a place to stub out her cigarette, then shrugged and dropped it on the floor. The room was clean and ordered and without any personality. But things were bound to change, of course.
Francesca sat on the edge of the bed, and ran a hand over Dave’s damp forehead.
She was probably too concerned and confused to fully notice the changes, but Sharon could see that her cousin’s hair was growing darker, and longer. He rolled on the bed, shaking, cursing, and his muscles were bubbling under his white shirt, veins bulging along his arms and his neck. His crotch was showing a massive hump. He circled Francesca’s waist with his arms, corded muscles rippling underneath his skin.
“What’s happening to him?” Francesca asked, her voice panicky, short of breath.
Sharon leered. Maybe the brunette was not as dumb as she thought.
“You stay with him,” Sharon said. “He will need you soon. Talk to him, hold him…”
Francesca moved closer to the thrashing young man, and started whispering something that Sharon thought was a prayer of some kind. Francesca took Dave’s big hand between hers and leant closer, her lips still moving, her voice a mere whisper.
Sharon grinned and walked back to the kitchen. She took a six pack and a bottle of vodka from the bag. She cracked a carton of Marlboros open. An evil smile on her painted lips, she went back to Dave’s room.
The man was no longer shaking on the bed. Francesca was kneeling on the mattress by his side, his right hand in hers. Dave’s left hand was caressing Francesca’s back, slowly running up and down her spine. Sharon tiptoed in, unnoticed at first, and placed the vodka, the beers, two packs of cigarettes and a lighter on the nightstand.
“He’s fine now,” Francesca said softly, without lifting her gaze.
Dave’s hand slipped under her sweater. She blushed, but did not stop him.
“I’m sure you’re both going to feel a lot better soon,” Sharon said.