Native American Horror Story
In no way affiliated with either Twilight or American Horror Story. No copyright infringement intended. Just for fun.
AU Volturi/Human Quileute pairings—VERY NON CANON PAIRINGS. Twilight/American Horror Story crossover. Horror lemons. Not strictly canon for either—basic canon themes/characters. Significant changes to both to make fit.
THIS WILL BE A SLOW UPDATER.
Leah kicked the door open, and then proceeded to stagger through it, a large wooden crate in her arms.
"Paul, you asshole. A hand?" she yelled in no particular direction.
The response came from the room to her right. "Be right there."
Knowing by his distracted tone that "right there" might take a while, Leah lowered the box as best she could, grunted as it slipped the final few inches, and then stormed into the future living room to give her boyfriend a piece of her mind. It didn't take long for her to become equally as awed and motionless.
It had been two months since they'd first viewed this place, and she had forgotten just how huge it was.
Seth walked into the room carrying three small cardboard boxes. "Wow. Can we actually afford this place?"
"Top end of our budget, but yeah. It's all ours," Paul replied as he came up behind Leah and wrapped his arms around Leah's waist, resting his head on her shoulder. She tried her best not to shrug him off.
After letting out a whistle, Seth asked where his room was, and as if he was sensing Leah's mood, Paul offered to show him.
When they'd started looking in Port Angeles for a place to rent, they'd never dreamed of finding anywhere like this. Bigger than anything else in the same range, in a good neighborhood, and if you could get over the olde worlde decor it was better than Leah was expecting.
Clean, too, Leah thought as she ran her finger across the bottom of the window frame. Spotless, in fact.
The house had been on the market for a long time—apparently the previous tenants had come to a sticky end, which probably gave others the idea that it was haunted or something stupid like that. Their loss, our gain, Leah thought with a smile and went outside for more boxes.
Leah wasn't worried about ghosts and the like. Neither were Paul or Seth; in fact, before she'd invited Seth to come and stay and was telling her mother about it, his reaction had been, "Cool!"
Even though her father and then her mother had a place on the Council, she didn't really believe in spirits and the like. She'd spent too many years listening to the stories of how the tribe was supposedly descended from wolves, and all that bullshit about the Cold Ones. Leah couldn't take it seriously.
Seth? Well, he was still a little naïve, and too big of a fan of horror films not to believe in things that went bump in the night.
Her brother's invitation had come later. In fact, she was sure that he'd chosen Peninsula College just so he could come with them, and who could blame him? The house was a palace compared to the bare step up from a hut they'd lived in back on the rez. And no doubt the money from renting the room out to him would help when it came to updating the place.
Things were looking up, Leah told herself. They'd come to Port Angeles when Paul had found himself a decent job, and that was the reason they'd given everyone when they told them they were moving away, but everyone knew better. Living in a place like La Push, everyone knew your business.
The reason Paul had been looking for a job in Port Angeles in the first place was that, if they'd stayed on the rez, their relationship would be history.
Okay, so the reason Paul and Leah had got together in the first place was because they both had difficulty letting go of their exes, but the difference was that the only contact Leah ever intended having with the contents of Sam's pants involved some kind of sharp implement. In fact, that mental picture had gotten her through a number of family gatherings now that he was engaged to her second cousin.
Leah winced as she remembered the day she had introduced her high school sweetheart to Emily. The double betrayal hurt so much, even seeing him for what he really was didn't take the pain away. The first time Emily had shown up with cuts and bruises on her face after "walking into a door" had washed away Leah's anger aimed at her, and turned it into pity.
Leah couldn't begin to understand why Emily stayed with him, or why she didn't just leave, at least until recent events...which weren't really the same.
She'd met Paul at an anger management class that had been put on by the local missionaries, hoping to convert the red-skinned savages. He'd cut her off on his bike leaving the parking lot, and seeing a red mist, her class forgotten, she'd followed him home to yell at him.
He'd yelled back, and before she knew it, she was sitting on top of him, both of them semi-naked in his hallway—they'd not managed to make it as far as his bedroom.
One thing she could say for that single session of anger management, it'd certainly given her an outlet for her pent up aggression. A red hot, smoldering outlet, at that.
Paul was very easy on the eye—tall, tawny skinned, with intense dark eyes, and abs you could scrub your small clothes on; he was quick to anger, and far better in the sack than Sam had ever been.
After getting into a brawl with his future brother-in-law, Paul's fiancée had left him. Luckily for him, he didn't have to see her quite so often as Leah had to see Sam. Or maybe it had been that absence that had led him to falling into bed with her the first time she came to visit after a year of visiting her twin in Hawaii?
Didn't he know how betrayed she felt after Sam? How she'd barely manage to pull herself through?
Leah had walked in, found them, and stormed out. At least he'd had the decency to come after her, pulling on his pants as he followed her down the hall and out to her car. That was probably why she'd given him a second chance—the feeling of being unwanted that Sam had left her with left her feeling flawed and unlovable.
Paul had begged her to take him back. He'd come around her mother's house every night for a fortnight. It'd been hard to deny him, but being reassured that he really did love her didn't make it any easier to forgive him.
This is exactly what they needed—somewhere new, a fresh start.
Leah grabbed another box from the truck and made her way up the steps leading to the ornate, gothic front door, forcing herself to smile.
It was no good. Even the pillow and duvet over Seth's head couldn't completely drown out the sound.
Creak. Creak. Creak. Creak-creak-creak. And then a moan.
That was it. He couldn't take it anymore. Maybe he should have asked to have one of the rooms furthest down the hall, away from Leah and Paul's room. There were some things that a brother just shouldn't have to hear.
Pulling on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt, Seth tiptoed over to the door and opened it quietly. Treading carefully, he made his way down the stairs, and into the kitchen, unopened boxes waiting to be unpacked littering the way.
Luckily, Leah had unpacked the glasses, Seth thought as he poured himself some water. Seth himself had concentrated on organizing his own things in his room. Paul had finally brought in a few boxes after giving him the tour, and he'd gotten the Chinese food—followed by severe earache from his sister for being a lazy ass bastard.
Seems they made up though, Seth thought, and then shook his head to make the bad images go away. Seth didn't mind Paul…he just didn't like hearing him bone his sister.
Leaning his back against the counter, Seth looked around the room in the dark. Paul's small table and chairs, where they had dominated his kitchen in La Push, were now dwarfed in the cavernous kitchen. They were going to need a hell of a lot more furniture to fill this place.
While he was wondering whether his sister and his boyfriend had finished upstairs, Seth spotted something peeking out of the top of a box marked "garage." He walked over and pulled it out—an old blanket that he remembered had once been his father's for when he went fishing.
Leah had kept this old thing? Well, he could understand why. Fishing was as big a part of their father as their mother or Leah and Seth themselves. Unbidden, memories of happier times, sitting in the yard after a family get-together when most of their guests had left, eating left over fish fry, and lying on this very same blanket with his mother.
Suddenly, Seth felt very homesick. Taking the old, musty smelling blanket and an opened packet of prawn crackers, Seth unlocked the back door and headed out into the garden.
Their new garden was very different to the one he was used to. There was a gazebo, and everything seemed planted in a very architectural, organized way. It looked nice, but it felt artificial. Seth laid the blanket flat and then stretched out on it on his back, looking up at the stars hidden by drifting murky-looking clouds and light pollution.
In La Push you could see the stars really clearly, and the garden was much more natural—since Dad had died, it had been left to Seth and his Mom to do the yard work. Mom had kept up Dad's vegetable patch, and Seth had done the blue jobs, but Leah hadn't been much use in that department. By then his sister had become the bitter, argumentative creature she'd turned into after the whole Sam thing. Asking her for a hand was more than your life was worth.
Seth still loved her though, and she'd mellowed a little since meeting Paul. She'd somehow found a guy almost as volatile as she was. Almost—not quite. And at least he kept his fists for the men.
What would Seth have done if it had been Leah and not Emily that Sam was beating on? The guy was huge. Seth might have been willing to play the knight in shining armor, but the chances were that he'd get just as many bruises if not more. As upset as she was about losing him, Seth couldn't help but feel like Leah had a lucky escape.
Leah had learned to be good around the house because Paul definitely wasn't. She hadn't officially moved out, but spent so much more time at her new boyfriend's house than at home. When that thing with him and his ex had happened, Seth had cringed, wondering how much worse she could get this time, but instead she'd stayed with him. That had surprised a few people.
And now here they were in Port Angeles, in a mini mansion, and Seth with them, too.
Seth's train of thought was interrupted when a figure pushed through some bushes and stepped onto the lawn.
The skin on the back of Seth's neck stood on end, and he sat up suddenly. With a slight shake to his voice, he yelled, "Hey, who is that?"
The figure paused—they were short and slight. They turned toward him and began to walk his way.
Seth swallowed hard. What if the place was haunted? Somehow it seemed less cool than it had when Leah had first told him about the murders.
As they came closer, the figure came into view. "Jane. I could ask you the same question. Who are you?" It was a girl, her blonde hair disappearing under a black hooded sweater, and she was wearing too much eye makeup.
"Um...I'm Seth. I live here."
The girl seemed to think for a moment, and then nodded towards the house. "There?" When Seth bobbed his head up and down in reply, she shrugged and said, "I guess someone was always going to move in eventually."
When the silence following grew awkward, Seth scratched the back of his head and asked, "Um, so do you come here often?" and then he cringed, realizing how it sounded. He was relieved when Jane smirked a little, the sides of her mouth curling upward.
"I used to live next door, but not anymore." She put her hands in her pockets. "I hang out here. The place has been empty for years."
"So, uh, you know who used to live here?"
Signaling for the girl to sit down, Seth shuffled along to one side of the blanket and moved the prawn crackers. Jane obliged and sat next to him, her knees tucked up.
"Sure. I know lots about the house. Who lived here…its history. Question is…will you still want to live here once I've told you?"
"What? You think a little horror story is gonna scare me away? Hey, I'm made of sterner stuff."
Their eyes met.
"Is that so?" With a smirk, Jane began. "Well, the last people to live here before you were a gay couple—Demetri and Felix I think they were called. They say Demetri killed Felix in a jealous rage, and then committed suicide."
"Yes. Really. But they're not the only people to have died here. Before that, when the place was empty, a bunch of kids snuck inside on a dare. They went down to the basement…and didn't come back out alive. Something lives down there…"
Seth chuckled. "That's so cliché. You have to try harder than that to scare me."
"Maybe you should be scared." Jane's eye's twinkled in the dark. She was kind of pretty in a gothy kind of way, Seth thought. "If you knew what that something was, you would be…"
Surprised to find her face serious rather than smirking, Seth whispered, "What is it?"
"What are they? I can't say. I saw them once, when I was a young girl." She looked Seth straight in the eye. "Don't go down there on your own. Don't let your family go down there."
Torn between wanting to agree and wanting to seem tough, Seth decided to go the way of bravado. "So a couple of gays and the mysterious things in the basement, anything else I should be looking out for?"
"Lots more. You'd be surprised." The smirk returned. "In the sixties two girls were murdered—drowned and stabbed—in there."
"Wow. For real?"
"Yes. There are more restless spirits in there than you can count on your fingers."
Seth stared entranced. "Will you tell me?"
Jane got to her feet. "There's too many. I'd be here all night."
Looking at his watch, Seth saw that it was almost one in the morning. "Uh, you wouldn't happen to go to Peninsula College, would you? It would be nice to know at least one person."
Jane shook her head. "No, I'm home schooled."
"Ah, no problem. If you wanted to catch up sometime, then I'd like to hear those stories."
Jane grinned. "Sure. Later, Seth." Then she pushed back through the undergrowth.
Cool, Seth thought to himself. I've been here less than a day and I've already found someone to hang with.