Frank Iero thinks he's got it tough. But now, it's about to get a whole lot worse...
The vampire licked his lips, his tongue flicking over his fangs. He released his hold on the man’s body and he slumped to the ground very much dead. He nudged the corpse over with a thick and heavy boot, smiling at what he saw. Clutched in the man’s cold hands were a crucifix and a clove of garlic. They always fell for that one- every single time.
He plucked the objects out of the icy grasp and laughed, flinging the cross behind him and popping the garlic into his mouth. He turned and left the body where it was, chewing on the garlic slowly and thoughtfully. That man was of no use to him, which was a shame really, because if he could have just known who the boy he was searching for was, then his life might have been spared.
But the vampire had got hungry, it wasn’t his fault. It most definitely wasn’t his fault that humans were filled with the most delicious liquid in the world. Blood. And lots of it.
Dipping a hand into his pocket, and using both the light of the moon and a nearby streetlamp, he scanned the crumpled up photograph of the boy. He scowled; all he had was a name and a picture to go by. No address, no school name, no friend’s names, not even a last name. Just a first name and that was nowhere near enough to what he wanted.
But, he thought as he stared at the picture, I will find him.
He stroked the image with fondness.
“Frank,” He purred.