FicWad

Gerard woke up later than he had intended the next evening, a late night teamed up with the most glorious dreams had kept him trapped in the wonderful haven of slumber, only rousing from his bed when Mikey wafted a jug of coffee around his room, his own mug in his other hand, spinning slowly around and shaking his hips at the end of Gerard’s bed in some sort of strange dance, warbling out an unrecognisable tune.
“Hark Dewees, I am luring the beast out of his lair, ready yourselves!” He called out in between fits of giggles as he exited the room backwards.
Groaning, Gerard rolled out of bed and shuffled into his en suite bathroom to freshen up, before making his way to the conference suite of their complex. But as he sauntered through his bedroom on his way to the coffee, he glanced down at his bed, instantly catching sight of the blood stains, and almost punched the wall as he realised what he had done. Not only had he fucked a minor, but he had also drunk the little whore’s blood. Gerard ran a hand through his crimson hair and took a breath, weighed up his options, and carried on his way as if nothing were out of the ordinary.
‘Act normal Gerard,’ he told thought to himself, ‘they’ll only know that something’s up if you behave as if there is.’ He glided up the stairs to the floor above, his footfalls silent. ‘Follow the motions, burn the sheets as soon as you can.’ The door creaked slightly as he pushed it open gently. ‘If the kid snitches then you can run away easy, and snap the runt’s neck on the way out.’
Gerard smiled groggily at Mikey who returned a lazy grin as he poured himself a cup of coffee and sat down at the large conference table that ran along the length of the room, there were a couple of people from the Administration and Registration Department on the bottom floor slumped in their chairs, already weary from a day’s work, but other than that it was just himself, Mikey, Ray, Pedicone, and James Dewees, their team leader. Gerard shuffled the papers of his report and checked his pen worked, before giving James his full attention. Ray grabbed a handful of biscuits from the tray in the centre of the table, and then they were ready to start.
James sipped on his coffee as he looked over his notes, then cleared his throat and looked up at the assembled people who barely filled a quarter of the available seats. He pursed his lips slightly as he recalled the phone conversation he had had with the higher ups a few years ago over the refurbishment of the SBIA complex, thinking that surely the people in charge of an agency of their level of importance and secrecy should have more than two brain cells to rub together, but no. But James could never really be angry over it like he wanted to be, because three weeks after that phone call, without the medic room and the helicopters Ray would have been dead, Gerard probably would have been dead, and Mikey had a good chance of also ending up dead. James shook his head slightly to clear his mind; he had a strict policy with himself about recalling bad memories.
“Okay everyone, we’re here as a follow-up meeting of a recent callout we had to retrieve a kidnapped Incubus; victim was underage, and was summoned with an illegal spell by a faerie. This reopens the investigation into spell book trafficking, which was previously thought to be resolved.” James scratched the back of his neck in irritation; in the original investigation Ray ended up almost burning down a second hand bookstore, Gerard had been attacked by bewitched manuscripts, and Mikey kept wandering off into the sci-fi sections. Needless to say, Brian did not want a repeat of that.
“Um, actually James,” piped up Mikey, “I was looking through the book we recovered from the scene, and it doesn’t make sense.”
James shifted in his chair. “What? What doesn’t make any sense?”
“The spells in the book,” Mikey spread his hands out before him in a sort of half-shrug, “from what I’ve translated of the Gaelic, none of them are for summoning Succubae. I’m not sure on this, but I think the summoning spells are just generalised; non-specific.”
“So this Faerie, he could have been attempting to summon a human?” James said, scratching at the stubble on his chin.
“Yeah, or something else entirely, if he were trying to get himself a human, then winding up with an Incubus is way off target.”
“Which means,” Gerard said, leaning forward and propping his head up on his clasped hands, “that the faerie was aiming for the something else, and that is what we need to worry about.”
James grinned; he was always pleased when his boys managed to use their brains on a case.
“Let’s get to it then.”
_._._
Gerard whipped the stained sheets of his bed and stuffed them into a backpack, James had ordered him to investigate Frank’s father’s exact genealogy in order to build a picture of what they were looking for, and to swing by the derelict apartment block where he first met Frank to see if there was anything they’d missed the first time round. Sometimes Gerard felt that he was in an episode of ‘Scooby Doo’ and the gang had sent him to look for clues in the search to find out who they would find when they pulled off the monster’s face. Sometimes, Gerard wondered when they would finally pull off the compassionate human face he used as his mask, only to find a real monster underneath.
Gerard slipped into his leather jacket and swung the backpack over his shoulder; he would burn the sheets while he was out. He grabbed his car keys before slipping out of his bedroom and down the stairs to their underground car park. Ray and James were further interrogating the Faerie upstairs, and Mikey was huddled over the book, feverishly trying to translate it so they could find out exactly what they were searching for.
He sidled up to his shiny sports car, running his fingers long the cold black paint of the bonnet and swiftly twisted his keys in the driver’s side door. Just as Gerard was about to open the door of the car and get in, he felt static on his skin and a tingling sensation shot down his spine before a tug just behind his navel made him realize that his day had just gotten considerably more awful. Gerard breathed in deeply, and then released it, willing the tension out of his shoulders as he turned round slowly to face the little Incubus that had well and truly fucked up his last chance at life.
Frank stood in the middle of the underground car park, clothed this time in baggy, low slung blue jeans, thick soled skate shoes, a dark red hoodie that was zipped halfway up, revealing a crisp white dress shirt with what appeared to be a tie emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest hastily done up around his neck. The young, oddly dressed, man raised a hand and offered a small wave and a cheeky little grin to the crimson haired vampire. Gerard sucked his bottom lip into his mouth, chewing on it lightly as he glared at the teenager before him.
“What the fuck do you want?” he finally growled out.
The waving hand and the smile dropped simultaneously, a frown and a small pout making up a hurt expression on Franks soft face. The young man stuck his hands in his pockets and glided forwards until he was standing right underneath Gerard’s nose, glaring back up at him for a few seconds before bouncing up on his toes and stealing a kiss from the vampire’s lips. Gerard wanted to push Frank away from him, and to tie up his arms and legs and toss him in the boot of the car so he could burn both the blood stained sheets and the boy in one fell swoop. But as a needy sigh escaped the young Incubi’s lips, Gerard found himself dropping his backpack to the floor and wrapping his arms around Frank. Remembering when he first found the poor boy in that derelict apartment block, covered in blood and shaking in fear, Gerard could no longer quell the urge to protect the young man in his arms that was bubbling up inside of him.
Gerard heard the muffled sound of footsteps and smelt the familiar musky scent of Dewee’s cologne, but raised his face from Frank’s a moment too late. His team leader looked from their close embrace to the sheets spilling out onto the floor from Gerard’s backpack, the stains unmistakably that of blood, and then back to where Frank had now twisted round in Gerard’s grip, mouth hanging open in shock. Dewee’s face contorted into an expression of disgust and horror as he fumbled for his gun where it rested on his belt. Quick as lightening, Gerard flung the car door open and threw Frank inside, then slid into the driver’s seat, pushing Frank the rest of the way into the passenger seat, before slamming the car door shut, twisting the keys in the ignition. Dewee’s fired several shots, but the bullets glanced off of the bumper as the jet black sports car squealed past him and out of the car park.