Frank's got a new place to stay now
“Hm?” Mikey slowed his strides to let Frank catch up.
“You never gave me a real answer on why I don't have a scar on my neck.” Frank brought his hand up to his neck to rub small circles of where a wound should have been or a scar at least.
Bob chuckled, “You really want a scar.”
“No, I mean, I wouldn't care. I'm just a little freaked out on how fast it healed. I should still have like a fucking huge crater in my neck. I'm sure the wound I had on my neck wouldn't be able to heal in the time between my attack and regaining consciousness.” Frank pointed out. “I just wanna know what's going on.”
Mikey seemed amused, “It's simple. When you're turned into a vampire all skin blemishes—like pimples, scars, and cuts, disappear. Gone. Just like that.” He snapped his skinny fingers for emphasis.
On hearing that, Frank rolled up his sleeves and nearly pulled his shirt over his head. He sighed in relief to see that he still had his colorful tattoos adorning his torso and arms. He twisted around a little to make sure all of his tattoos were still there, and once he saw they were, he breathed a sigh of relief. Pulling his shirt down, he had forgotten that there were friendly strangers watching him with curious amused expressions.
Frank blushed. “Sorry, just had to make sure my tattoos were still here, it be a bitch if I had to get them all redone again.”
Bob nodded, “They're nice tattoos.”
The four men walked in silence along the hallways and Frank was curious about a lot of things. If Ray was a werewolf, then what was everyone else? How long had they been living here? Did they ever go out in public?
“So um...” Frank broke the silence, “If Ray is a werewolf... what does that make the rest of you?”
“I'm a wizard-warlock-what ever you would like to call it.” Mikey said.
“Really? How? Were you born that way?”
“No. When we found this house there were a bunch of spell books and cauldrons lying around. I decided to read a few books, you know for just a joke, but then I started getting these weird powers. I got mad at the toaster one day and it just fucking blew up out of nowhere. I thought it was faulty, but then I tested on something else...”
“Poor bird never had a chance.” Bob shook his head with an amused smirk on his lips.
“Wow...” Was all Frank could say. He read the Harry Potter series many a times, but he never expected it to be real, “That's amazing. So if I wanted to study your books and become a wizard... I could?”
“If you want, but it'll take years before you can actually control your powers. And you know, not succumb to the power-hungry beast that lives inside us all. I nearly went crazy.” Mikey frowned slightly and had this livid fire behind his eyes. It kind of scared Frank.
“That can happen?”
“Oh yeah, Frank, I'm not going to lie it really happens. You remember all those people who've wronged you, your family, your friends. Then revenge suddenly becomes your main focus and all you want to do is destroy and fucking kill those who've wronged you and your loved ones. Because you have all this power and you know you can get more, and you think your doing something right.” He paused.
Mikey took in a shaky breath and continued. “But then... you want to go after witnesses, people who could have stopped it but never did, and soon you go after innocent people and then the next thing you know it millions of people are dead. Innocent lives are destroyed and you accidentally end up killing your loved ones in the whole ordeal...” Mikey choked and turned his gaze to the ceiling. He blinked several times and took calming breaths.
Ray rubbed his back soothingly and whispered something to him that Frank didn't catch and Bob patted his shoulder.
“Did... Did that ever... did you ever do that?”
“No, but I fucking wanted too. If it wasn't for these guys I would have.” Mikey cast them all appreciative glances, smiling.
Frank bit his lip and turned his gaze to Bob. He was a little afraid to ask, but he did, “And... you?”
Bob stopped patting Mikey's thin shoulders and grabbed the hem of his shirt. He tugged the material up until the shirt was off his body and in one hand. Frank gasped at the sight. Bob had a bronze door with a key hole over his left pectoral. Then noticed a bronze key hanging from around his neck--must before for the key hole.
“Whoa...” Frank took a hesitant step forward and held his hand out. He paused, his fingers hovering just inches from the bronze door, looking up at Bob, silently asking for permission to touch. Bob nodded. Frank inched forward and his fingers grazed over the metal; it was warm. He could feel a slight hum under his fingers and he pulled back, looking up to Bob. “What happened?” Noticing faint scars around this chest and stomach area.
Bob shrugged, “My 'friends' abandoned me to a gang and I got the shit beaten out of me good. I thought I was good as dead until this really nice scientist-slash-doctor came and picked me off the street.” He nodded, "Fixed me up. He had to replace a few organs and a few ribs turned into titanium, because those fuckers knew where to break and stab a guy."
“Oh man. I'm sorry.”
“S'not your fault. I knew drugs and that kind of shit wasn't going to get me anywhere, but I guess I gave into the temptation.” Bob tugged the shirt back over his head. “I'm clean now.”
“That's good, but what happened to your 'friends'?”
“The gang caught up to them and the next day the news said they were floating down the river.” Bob shrugged again, clearly not disturbed by it at all. Frank totally understood Bob's casual tone--he'd be the same way, but still muttered a 'sorry' anyway. Bob waved it off, “Nah, I knew they weren't my real friends.”
“But you still hung out with them?”
“Because they had my next fix.”
Bob shrugged, “Like I said before, I don't do that shit anymore.”
Mikey seemed like he calmed down considerable and clapped Bob on the shoulder, “Alright. Let's get back to the tour. Maybe I'll show you my room and let you see my cauldrons and whatnot.”
So they continued the tour. Frank was shown the nice sizable pool in the back yard, large beautiful garden with a koi pond, and part of the forest that surrounded the whole house. Now that Frank had seen where this place was, secluded and pretty much the whole house, they led Frank to their spacious living room. The floor to wall windows were wide open letting the sun's ray spill all over the furniture and the floors. Frank was a little hesitant to enter the room. Didn't vampires spontaneously catch on fire when sun hits them?
Mikey, Bob, and Ray went ahead while Frank took shelter in the shadows of the hallway. The three flopped down on the couch and turned on the large television set, tricked out with a killer sound system, and had shelves packed full of CDs and DVDs. Bob grabbed the remote from Ray and started flipping through the channels lazily.
Ray cast a glance back to the hallway and gave Frank an odd look. “Why are you still over there?”
“Don't vampires explode when they step in the light?”
Mikey laughed, “No. Who told you that?”
“Countless of vampire movies, I guess.” Frank took a hesitant step into the room. The skin on his barefeet glowed in the light but didn't burst into flames. So Frank felt safe enough to inch his way more in the light. Sighing in relief when he didn't suddenly erupt into flames. Boy, did he feel like going up to Hollywood and proving those big shot directors that they were wrong.
“Nah, you guys are fine. The least the sun will do to you is hurt your eyes.” Mikey patted the seat next to him.
“Mhm.” Frank shielded his eyes and gladly took the empty spot. “Well, since I don't know about vampires as much as I think I do, can you fill me in? Give me hints?” Frank asked.
“I can certainly try.” Mikey smiled.
While Mikey began to give advice and some history on vampires, Bob and Ray were watching the television with Bob still flipping through the channels. A particular channel showed up on the screen before it was gone.
“Wait, Bob, turn back.” Ray said.
“Why? It was just the news.”
“But I think I saw something...”
Bob changed back a couple of channels and they gazed at the pretty blond lady with a microphone in a familiar part of the city. She was saying something in the microphone about a mangled body having been found three days ago; throat ripped out, scratches all over the body—something gruesome. They suspected it to be some wild animal that attacked the man. Bob and Ray assumed it was a freak attack, until a message flashed across the bottom of the screen.
Local 22-year old man, Frank Iero, still missing
Bob and Ray glanced at each other then to Frank, who was listening intently to Mikey, and then back to each other. They just shrugged and thought it was another Frank, but when a very recent picture of the short man flashed on the screen, did they look at each other again. Bob nodded his head in Frank's direction and Ray sighed, it seems he would have to be the one to get their attention. Ray cleared his throat loudly.
Mikey stopped talking and looked over, “Yes, Ray?”
“You might want to have a look at the news.”
Frank let his eyes rest on the large screen for only a moment before he caught sight of the message at the bottom, and then he was flying off the couch skidding in up to the TV. He accidentally knocked his head against the screen, “Shit!” He rubbed the sore spot.
“Hey watch it, Frank, I don't know how hard your head is and I don't want you cracking the screen.” Bob barked.
“Sorry.” Frank looked up at the large screen.
“Turn it up! Turn it up!” Mikey waved his hand frantically to Bob.
“Alright, alright. Jesus.” Bob clicked the volume button.
“...the mangled body of man was found over three days ago, it was decomposed so the investigators were unable to identify him or get any identity from him, but they did recover a tie from a man, 22- years old, Frank Iero.” Frank gaped. She went on, “His co-workers and boss reported to the police that he hadn't called in sick or come into work. They went to search his house and found that he wasn't there, it was then they walked a few blocks and found the mangled body, which had traces of Iero's blood and flesh around his mouth and on the discarded tie found at the scene.” Frank felt around his neck for the millionth time and found that he didn't have his tie. Ah, he always hated the thing anyway. “The search is still on for Frank Iero; if you find him please report to the police station.”
Bob switched off the TV. Frank whipped around to see the three men all had shocked expressions on their faces, as if they had know idea there was a search going on for him. “Wow.” Was all Mikey would say.
“You guys looked surprised,” Frank spoke slowly.
“We are.” Bob agreed.
“How? Didn't you guys know that my face is all over the news.”
Ray shook his head, “No, we were too busy making sure you were okay to even turn on the news. It's pretty much news to us.”
Frank sat down hard. “What am I going to do?”
Mikey said, “Good question.”
“You guys don't have any suggestions?” Frank looked hopeless.
“Well, you could always go back.” Mikey suggested, “We aren't going to stop you, we were just saving you and making sure you healed up nicely. Try to explain things in case you get this sudden craving for blood before you starve yourself accidentally.”
Frank grimaced, “I don't know if I want to.”
Frank sighed, pulling his knees up to his chest, “It's not like my life is promising. I mean, I have a shitty job with an asshole of a boss. I don't have any family to really go back too...” Frank grimaced.
“What happened. To your parents I mean?”
“Died in a car accident when I was 12.”Frank replied sadly, the three of them gave him sympathetic looks. He sighed, running his hands through his long hair then rubbing his eyes.
“Well... you don't have to go back.” Bob reminded.
“But where am I going to go?” Frank dropped his hands.
Mikey, Ray, and Bob all exchanged looks, silently talking to each other. Frank kind of wished he knew how they could keep talking to each other without actually saying words. Maybe they've been living together for so long they could just do that. When Mikey gave a small smile to Bob and Ray, he pulled his gaze from them and over to Frank, clearing his throat.
Frank looked to him expectantly.
“You could stay with us... that is if you want too.”
Frank didn't have much to go back too. He wished he had his guitar, Pansy, though. And had his clothes and CDs. “I don't have any of my things though...”
“We can get them for you.” Ray said.
“But my place has to be crawling with detectives and news people, how are you going to get past them with out rising suspicion?” Frank wondered.
“We'll go at night. Ray is really good with directions, just give him your address and he'll find it.” Mikey smiled to Ray, who blushed and smiled back.
“Yeah?” Ray nodded. “Well then... I guess I'm staying here.”
“Great!” Mikey stood from his seat on the couch and clasped his hands together. He pushed the magazines on the coffee table aside and grabbed a notepad from the bottom, flipping to a clean page he tossed the notepad to Frank. “Write down your address, maybe some stuff you want and then you'll have a shower.” Tossing him a pen to along with it.
Frank began to scribble down his address, “Is that a real subtle way of saying that I stink?”
Mikey laughed lightly, “No, but you got caked blood all over you, so I'm pretty sure you'll like to get all that shit off.”
By the time night had fallen Frank had taken a shower, Ray and Mikey set off to Frank's house with a written address and a list of items he needed the most, and Bob was cooking something up in the kitchen. Which smelled delicious when Frank emerged from the bathroom.
“Hey uh, Bob...” Frank pushed the door open slightly, holding tight to the towel around his waist. His dark locks were dripping in his eyes.
“I kind of don't have any clothes yet.” Frank said softly.
Bob turned from the stove to look at Frank peeking in through the door. “Oh that's right... uh, I'm sure Mikey wouldn't mind if you borrowed some of his stuff. He's small, you could fit...” He stirred what ever was cooking in the pot. “You can go to his room and get some clothes.”
“I don't want to intrude....”
“He won't mind.”
“...And I don't know where his room is.”
Bob sighed, “Alright, alright, come watch the food. I'll get you something.” Frank shuffled in still holding on to the towel and made his way to the stove. Bob handed him the big wooden spin he had been stirring the food with and walked to the door, “Keep stirring, don't let it burn,” And he disappeared behind the door.
Frank did what he was told. Leaning his hip against the counter he stirred, and whistled a light tune. He wondered if he could still eat regular food, and would it still taste good. He hoped so, he really hoped so, because he still wanted to eat salads and veggie burgers, instead of drinking blood all the time. The thought alone made Frank shudder and a strange hunger stir in the pit of his stomach.
Frank snapped out of his thoughts when he saw the kitchen door slowly creak open out of the corner of his eye. Frank whipped his head to the left and the door shut just as fast. Frank scratched his head in curiosity. He carefully put the wooden spoon to the side, kept his towel around his waist, and slowly tip-toed over to the door. He could hear a faint heart beat on the other side of the door(which in itself weirded Frank out) and had his fingers hovering just above the wood, ready to push the door open, but he was interrupted.
The other door to the kitchen burst open. Mikey and Ray had returned with his things.
“We interrupting something?” Ray set down his guitar case and a few other bags.
“Uh... no...?” Glancing towards the door before he decided to let it go and walk back over to the pot. “I was just watching the food for Bob.”
“Ah,” Mikey sat his share of bags down, “Smells good.”
“I have a question.”
“Yeah?” Mikey was leaning over the pot now inhaling the sweet aroma of the food.
“Can I eat?”
“Uh, yeah?” Mikey said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world—in a way it kind of was. “Who said you couldn't?”
Frank stirred, “I thought I would be scarfing down blood for the rest of my life.”
“Well, the blood is the side, you need it now so you won't starve and die. You can eat food, it can fill you up, but you just won't get the nutrition you need from it like you could when you were human.” Mikey reached his hand out, about to dip his finger in the stew, but Ray grabbed his wrist.
Ray shook his head, “You're going to burn you finger, Mikey, and I don't want to hear you bitch and moan to me about it later.”
Mikey pulled his finger back with a pout.
The kitchen door opened and Bob came walking in with a black T-shirt and jeans in his hands. He stopped short on seeing Mikey and Ray in the kitchen. He stood for a moment then tossed Mikey his clothes, “Great, you're back. You can take your own clothes back.”
Mikey grumbled something low and gave a quick flick of the wrist. A hand towel suddenly untied itself from the handle of the fridge, twisted up, and whipped Bob in the ass; Frank stared in both surprise and amusement. He yelped and growled, “I'm going to kick your ass, Mikey.”
Mikey smirked and Frank giggled.
Bob turned his deathly glare to the short man. “What are you laughing at? Go put some damn clothes on before I yank your towel off.”
Frank giggled, grabbed his things up—Ray offered his help, and quickly ran out of the kitchen.