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bahrlee · 4 years

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Suck the blood from my Wound

Enter: Raph the Womf

🦇🦇🦇chapter 5: Impossible🦇🦇🦇

The next day, the three girls were reported as dead due to…. Throat related injuries. They didnt go into much detail as to not disgust or trigger their viewer's, they just mentioned the basics---they were found in the woods with their throats ripped out, bitemarks present---but still. It left him a little nauseous, and nervous. They were only in kindergarten, and here they were, viciously mangled buy someone in the woods during probably one of the happiest day of their lives. He tried to connect Dook too the crime, that would so obviously point to him, but there was just something so off about it in the first place. Were vampire fangs that strong enough to pull out a little girls trachea? Mitzi would definitely think so, in fact he remembered she said so.

Even though it was still offputting, he didnt let that ruin his day. He needed to get his house back to its former glory since that weird night. He found it hard to go on with his day, however, since there was an unpleasantness in the air that couldnt be ignored. Everyone all day was looking over their shoulders, hugging themselves, holding their children close to them as they walked down the streets. He has never seen a mother walk so quickly from him, a man with long blonde hair wearing cargo shorts a a shirt with flamingos on it. They were scared of any man, he guessed, since men always seemed to be the killers. Even ones who look like theyd surfed since they were toddlers. Which reminded him that he needed to surf again soon. Ever since Fatz left, he never found the motivation to hop on a board for awhile. But for now, today's goal: paint over the scratches on the wall. He was so happy it was only the paint that chipped, no actually wall damage, because he didnt know how to fix something like that. He wasnt good at fixing things.

The inside of the store was just as somber. Mothers pulling their kids from the toy isle when they usually let them explore it by themselves, the newspaper wrack was completely empty, things were just so different. It was only one murder, and everyone was losing it, like Ted Bundy was on the loose. And it was only one murder. Well, three, but it was all done at once. Who knows what would happen when or if another one happened? Who knows what would happen if they found out that a possible culprit was a vampire? That was too scary to think about, so he stopped and went to go get him some paint. He didnt even know what to do about the carpet yet.

Heck, what was he going to do about anything anymore since the possibilities seemed endless, now that there was a vampire loose through town.

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He stayed up late, but for the last couple days hes been staying up TOO late, trying to contemplate what he has learned. He just lived his life. Making a deal to become some sort of spy, getting himself involved in a rivalry between two different cryptids who treated it as though it were the civil war, except one of the sides wasnt even aware of what was happening and what the other was planned against them.

Just like he predicted, he didnt see him that much. For the first day, he once again had nothing to report to Mitzi. The next day, same thing. He hasn't seen him since their conversation at Roxys. She did return her part of the deal, providing the conversations you usually had with a friend. He even sat in the water with her, so she didnt have to be in such shallow places. That case if anyone walked by they wouldnt see the rest of her. They didnt get too deep, just stories, small talk, interesting things about being a sea monster and vice versa since even though she lived a double life she didnt exactly know too much, the normal stuff. She seemed a little upset he hasn't seen him, but it's not like he was seeking him out every single day. He wasnt a stalker. What a funny turn of events that would be though, if the HUMAN turned out to be the stalker instead of the vampire. That would be interesting. He hoped she didnt cut the deal off, and kept explaining to her why stalking is actually a bad thing, feeling shamefully desperate. But he couldnt help it, he had no friends.

He crossed his fingers, however, that they would cross paths again, both to satisfy Mitzi, and to see him again. He was so torn, when he spotted him acrossed the room at a comedy club while out with Fatz, he didnt know if he should go up to him.

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He preferred to sit in the back of everywhere, appearently. Maybe because it was so dark, and secluded, that he wouldnt be called out by the comic onstage at this particular place. Although it felt so out of place for him to be anywhere in town, or anywhere around town, really. Maybe theres this whole council of vampires, and hes on a mission right now given to him by them. Maybe he just liked to hang out at relatively dark places, or examine the nature of mortals. Or…. Maybe he was looking for his next victim, adult and in the next town this time, to mix it up a little.

His shoes were glowing this time. Similar to the vintage boots he wore, but this time the stars and crescent moons lit up. That was enough to mesmerize him.

"Whatcha looking at there, Beach?" Fatz asked, noticing his glances.

"Well obviously that boy over there." Esmeralda answered him instead of Beach. That was the thing with her, she answered all of Fatz' questions, even when directed to him, or somebody else.

"Hes a new guy. Met him at the movies once." Beach explained.

"Guess we didnt have to order you food tonight then," Esmeralda quipped. "You got yourself a nice meal right over there."

"Esme, I tried to flirt with him, okay? It's like flirting with Wednesday Addams child if she had a baby with the Willy Wonka from Tim Burtons awful adaptation of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory." He angrily drank his coke.

"Maybe you're just a bad flirt, you know?"

"Oh be quiet, Esmeralda. Beach is fine. Hes charming!" Fatz retorted enthusiastically.

"If you're so charming, go up to him. Say hi. Buy him a drink." Esmeralda advised.

"He doesnt drink." Beach quickly reverbed.

"Well now why doesnt he drink?"

Because hes a vampire, future Mrs. Geronimo.

"I dont know. I jus know hes not much for actually living in the moment you know, he just…." He turned and looked at him again, his head so obviously in the clouds. "....Kind of observes everything."

"You always go for the types that just sit there and look pretty, dont you?" Fatz said. He always questioned his type. The very monotone, 'too cool for school' men who tended to be more introverted and less talkative, two opposites of Beach. He liked his conversations. He was one of the best people to converse with because he kept it going. But he always went for the guys who's social skills were a bit stale. At least that's what Fatz thought, the truth was hes been with men of all kinds, Fztz only saw the shy guys, who were much less sh the more you got to know them. Fatz just tended to hold onto first impressions a little longer than he should.

"Shut up, quit acting like you know my type." He glowered.

"Cant deny it, Beach." He shrugged.

Some friend he was.

Esmeralda checked the time on her phone. "Fatz, its 10."

"Oh, what? Its 10 already?" He said.

"Yeah! We gotta go Beach, we're sorry. We gotta get sleep so we catch our flight to Louisiana for my family reunion tomorrow." She said.

A little mad that they were leaving, but understanding he had no control over it, he let them leave. He wasnt going to be too petty about it. Speak of Louisiana, however… he turned and saw Dook there, legs crossed, shows glowing---he still couldnt get over that, he wanted glowing shoes now---his eyes fixated on nothing.

Now that he was alone, he could probably try to talk with him. Mustering up his courage, he stood up, forgetting how tall he was for a moment and feeling a bit clumsy, and walked over to him. He seemed to be really deep in his own mind, because when he said hello, he jumped.

"Jesus christ!" He exclaimed. "What?!"

He held up a hand and waved. "Hello."

He exhaled loudly, giving him the stink eye, genuinely annoyed by his presence. "What the hell are you everywhere I go?" He spoke, putting emphasis on every word.

"Just find it funny that we find each other everywhere."

"No, you come up to me, say your shit, trying to get into my pants or whatever."

These non-mortals sure had some big mouths on them. But he guessed if they cant even get along within their world, of course they dont put any care into their interactions with humans. Was this his life now? Getting yelled at by two overgrown leeches for the rest of his days?

"No, I just came over here to say I like your shoes." He said. "You dont drink alcohol, but do you drink soda?" He recalled him drinking something at the movies.

Dook pointed to the soda on the table. "Little too late for that, man."

Dangit.

"Why are you so rude?" He asked him. "Why cant you just talk to me like a normal person without everything coming out of your mouth being a nasty comment? Why cant I just treat you nicely and be treated nicely back, huh?"

Dook slightly smirked at him. "Ficety."

Beach was a tad frustrated, but it only made him want to try harder. "No, you're ficety. I'm just trying to talk to you."

"You a nice guy?"

"No, I'm Beach."

And he finally heard him legitimately laugh. He was surprised at how audacious it was, and how much it revealed about him---he was a pretty goofy person. He seemed to be one for jokes, and humor. "Oh my god, alright, you're pretty funny, you can stay I guess. Sit down."

He obliged, feeling like he just achieved something impossible.

"So, Beach, if that's even you're real name, which I know it isnt, go ahead. Make this a speed date. Tell me a-a bit about yourself."

"Um…. Well…. I like surfing, and writing---I was an english major, actually---"

"Oh, interesting. Tell me something smart."

His mind drew a blank.

"Oh yes, wonderful. Did you uh, drop out or anything?"

"No, finished all four years. First one in my family not to drop out to persue a career as a rockstar, actually." He babbled, just excited to be getting through to him in any way.

"Huh. Interesting. I never went to college." He stirred the straw in his soft drink, smiling modestly.

"Did you drop out to become a rockstar?"

He thought for a moment. "Eh, kinda just happened. My dad forced me to play in a band when I was a sophmore. Actually, uh, enjoyed it and decided to stick with it for awhile. After that, I sang with my sister for a bit, and then something happened, and now I'm here."

"Huh." He knew what the thing was. He was immortalized. "Tell me about her."

"She lives back home. Three kids. A bit older than me, that's why she already has three. School music teacher." He said.

"Cool. I have a brother who's much older than me. Not as cool, kinda mean." He sighed.

"Hm, not very close to anyone, are you? I always see you alone. Guess that's why you bother me a lot."

He shook his head. "Yeah, my one friend who was just here a moment ago left, and hes been drifting away a bit. Everyone else is a workmate or an acquaintance."

Dook pulled the sleeves to his shirt over his hands and placed them under head chin. He was so obsessed with the way he dressed he couldnt handle it. "No wonder you're up the new guys ass."

Beach couldnt help be giggle. He was glad he was funny.

Dook reached over and grabbed one of those tiny pencils used to fill in Keno cards, and a napkin, and wrote something down. "Guess I'll amuse you for now." He slid it over to him. It was his number.

"Oh my god." He did it. It was out of pity, so obviously out of pity, but he got his number.

And finally, the late night comedy club announced its next act, after a long while of radio silence. The emcee came on stage, everyone cheered, well except for Dook who just glared up at him---well not really glare, he just seemed to have a case of a resting tired face, which wasnt necessarily a bad thing, but it still looked funny---seemingly board of every comedy routines seen tonight.

"Sorry for the delay everyone, we just had a minor difficulty with some of our guest comics tonight. But thankfully, one of them came prepared. Please everyone, give it up for Rolfe DeWolfe, and his no-so-friendly sidekick, little Earl Schmerle.

Once again everyone cheered accept Dook, who's eyes widened, a little stunned by his presence. The comedian, clad in a plaid vest and black undershirt, with a wacky voice and a yellow puppet on his hand, smiled and thanked the audience for being there.

"I knew he was here." Dook murmured.

"What---"

"Beach."

"Yeah?"

He leaned down, and turned his shoes off. "Can we leave?"

"Why?"

His eyes were locked on the comedian in a strange, prey-like state. "Hes not that funny."

It was very obvious it was not because of that reason, but of course he couldnt point it out.

He stood up slowly, creeping quietly (or as quietly one could walk in heels) through the dim room, as Rolfe and the puppet began their routine. Yes, Dook was actually correct, the routine was…. Meh. It made you smile, not laugh. But of course that wasnt the point if the whole thing going on right now, was it? He copied his moves, standing up and moving quietly, this time actually quiet because of the fact he was wearing actual shoes.

Beach Bear copied him, slinking out of his seat and following him to the door. They slipped out, into the warm night. The way he just…. Stared at him. He was going to take note of that. If only he remembered the name of whomever was onstage.

"So um…. What are we doing now?" He asked him.

"Ummm…. I dont really know." He laughed nervously.

"What do you know about that person in there?" He asked. "Seemed a little more than 'hes not funny.'"

He sighed. "You dont wanna know." He said.

Beach had a few guesses.

Dook shrugged and looked around, still a little alert. "We can just…."

"Take a walk?" He guessed.

"I mean…. Why not?"

The more time to get to know him.

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He dodged any personal questions, and the ones he did answer, he didnt go too deep into it. Simple, vague answers. No names of people, no small anecdotes, no detail. They did just meet anyways, of course he was valid for keeping most things for himself. Beach already knew things he was keeping from him anyways. He seemed a bit more anxious than usual, however, seeing that puppeteer onstage seemed to shake him a bit. Genuinely worried about how disoriented he seemed, he asked him if he were okay.

"Yeah, I'm fine. If-if I go into it, itll just…" he trailed off.

"Oh, okay. Just…. Making sure. You need to sit down or something?"

He shook his head. "I said I'm fine." He repeated.

"Like I said, just making sure." He sighed.

He hoped that not every moment between them would have some kind of stale silence between them. It was starting to get annoying at this point.

"Wait." Dook stopped, so he stopped, a little confused.

Dook crouched down and turned back on his shoes. "There. Better." He smiled, as if those shoes were the source of his pride and joy.

"Whered you even get those shoes?" He asked him.

"Goodwill."

"Huh. Are they battery powered or something?"

"Yeah. Batteries go in the heels." He said.

"You dress very cool."

"Um…. Okay, uh, thanks I guess." He laughed modestly. "You dress like you play beer pong."

He snorted, realizing it was entirely true. "But I'm serious. You're just… unapologetically bold in the way you dress. And I can tell you dress because you like it and not for attention, because you certainly dont seem like the type who likes all eyes on them." He explained.

"Well, yeah. Nobody can tell me what to wear, so…" he shrugged. "Many people think I'm a girl at first, but…. You know, whatever. I-I like it."

"Same thing about the mullet?"

He laughed again, covering his mouth shyly. "I mean…"

"It looks good on you though, not everyone can pull off a look like that."

Dook shrugged, grabbing the long part of his hair. "Yeah. I guess."

The streets were so serene when they were empty. Even though there was the abduction of three little girls who were found dead the next morning, and he might be standing next to the culprit, the night still felt so welcoming, and calm. Something about the street lights shining down on the sidewalk, the neon of the open signs in almost every window, the clearness of the night sky which he caught Dook glimpsing up at in awe once every few minutes.

"You like space?" He asked.

"Yeah. When I was little I wanted to be an astronaut." He said. "When um… playing with the band I always said I was gonna play with them until I could go to space." He said. "Didn't happen, though."

"Do you still wanna go there?"

"I mean, yeah, it would be cool."

The way the stars glistened in his eyes as he looked up at them in complete amazement.

"I feel the same way about the sea. I wanted to go underwater, like, in a submarine, for my whole life, just to explore. Don't you think it's weird how we know our moon better than our sea?"

He thought for a moment, looking a little hazed, maybe from the way the waning moon was shining down on them, distracting him from the real world. He seemed to be the type with an imagination.

"I can't believe every single one of those is a star up there. Every single one." Dook said. He began wiggling his fingers a bit in excitement.

He's never seen him impressed before. Maybe he should try and use space theme pick up lines to flirt, maybe then he'll notice him. But the only one he could think of was the classic your ass is out of this world joke, which he didn't think was a very cool one to throw his way. He might get punched in the face. He also was way too tired of thinking of something. These late night outings were really starting to get to him. It wasn't even that late out, compared to how late he usually stayed out.

"How close were you to achieving your submarine dream?" He asked him.

"I surf. That's about as close. I love it." He responded.

"Ah. The closest I got was space camp as a kid." He ran his fingers through the bangs and his mullet.

Beach put his hands in his pockets and kicked a rock into the road.

"Didya try going into biology or something to get into the ocean?" He asked.

"Oh no, my science grades were…. Not too good. I majored in english." He answered.

"How old are you?"

"23." He said. "What about you?"

Dook froze for a moment, thinking. Probably doing math in his head, which he probably wasn't very good at, from the way he snuck his fingers out to count. He didn't know why he was assuming so much from the little things, but he was.

"21." He finally said.

So he must've been 21 when he was turned into a vampire. And from the looks, it was in the 80s. Now he was wondering a lot. How did one even get turned into a vampire? He tried remembering back to Stoker's Dracula, Sookie Stackhouse, vampire chronicles, heck, even twilight. A bite? Excessive drinking of the blood? Canoodling with your partner, accidentally killing her, because vampires are apparently that strong (he hoped that wasn't the way, if anything that happened in twilight was true he'd probably run over to Stephanie Meyers house and drink HER blood)? All these questions he couldn't ask, because he didn't tell him. It was probably a very hard thing to tell in the first place. Mitzi was always incognito, and had a human end a close friendship with her once they found out about her secret, so he wasn't too surprised Dook was the same way. Mitzi was merely a teen, but Dook has been around for awhile---how many times was his heart broken by both partners and friends fearing him once they found out?

"So you're a drummer, right?" Beach asked. He couldn't be in his own head for too long.

"Yeah?" He said.

"Howd you get into drumming?"

"Band. You know…. School band."

"Huh, cool. I played Tenor sax."

"So you like Rush and have a strong disliking towards cornets." He assumed.

"Stereotypes, really?"

He shrugged. "What? You know it's true."

"Well then…. Since you're a percussionist I believe that you yell yeehaw any chance you get, have weak lungs, and have an affinity for Oingo Boingo."

He looked to his side with a knowing smile. "I mean I do like Oingo Boingo---"

"HA!"

"What? You just proved my point!"

They both started laughing, the feeling of their bond growing a bit stronger.

"What chair were you?" He asked.

"Always like…. Second. Third. I'm not the best. And…. Lemme guess, you were first chair a-and got all the solos?"

He shrugged. "We only had two in the top band, what can I say?"

He liked the constant laughter between them. It was a good sign, he believed. Laughter was an important step to any kind of relationship. If you couldn't see yourselves traveling the world as a comedic duo, what was the point? So his Hope's were set high, just as a love sick gay person should be.

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When they walked back to the club (both of their cars were there, they couldn't just walk home), Dooks goodbye was surprisingly hasty. Maybe he didn't want to encounter that guy that was here earlier, in case he was still loitering about, because his eyes carried the same alertness they did at the moment he spotted him. But he had his number now, an all powerful thing that Mitzi would be very happy to hear. He went to his car, very proud of what he accomplished, happy he finally got through to him enough to get to know a little more. When he had his hand on the handle, however, he heard something… interesting. A struggle of a woman was what he could compare it most to. He heard a male voice, one that wasn't Dooks, saying something. Remembering Dooks quick exit off of centerstage, he was inclined to follow the sound. He followed it to the side of the building, where he could clearly hear a woman's muffled screams. He could also hear the words from the other, currently disembodied voice, urging on whomever had her pinned.

"You want to starve, Dook? You can't just not feed for three months then go purge on woodland creatures for the next week!" The voice scolded.

Against the wall, he peaked over the corner, and saw the sight of Dook with a terrified blonde against the wall, fangs out, the pure look of struggle, and willpower in his face as he bit his lip, as to resist his urge to plunge them into her neck. The other dude was the comedy man, mister Ralph whats-his-name (man no wonder he was performing in a small comedy parlor in a small town in florida), was trying to egg him on to make the kill. Dook opened his mouth, obviously starving, but unwilling to bring harm upon the poor, unsuspecting patron, and turned away, dropping her to the ground. She shot up and scrambled away, probably scared for life. He turned back around the corner, hoping he wasn't spotted.

"Come on, Dook!" Comedian guy huffed at him. "Why can't you just be like every other vampire planet? Why do I have to force I yoh human blood?!"

"I mean…. ED?" He responded, scared but able to respond in his usual way.

"You were turned into a vampire to get rid of that." He groaned, tired, but seemingly used to his sass.

"Well that didn't work, did it---" there was a thump against the wall.

He turned to peak again. This time it was Dook against the wall. He had a hold of him with his shirt. He pulled out something in his pocket, and from closer examination, he made out the classic---a wooden stake, fit to kill any vampire with a stab to the heart. He lightly placed it against his chest, Dook visibly shaking, and struggling with all his might.

"You'll reap what you sow, Dook. If you don't follow orders, if you don't keep yourself alive for the better of your kind, you'll pay." He threatened.

Dook brought up his leg and kicked his stomach, the comedian losing grip on him and falling back, the stake falling to the ground.

"My kind is human, got it? I'm not doing anything for a vampire, or a werewolf, or-or for anyone, really!"

"Was human, Dook. You're one of us now, and you have to accept it. You do the duties bestowed upon you, I wouldn't be on your tail all the time!" He got up.

"Fuck you." He replied. The comedian screamed and threw his fists at him, only smacking against the brick as Dook flew out of the way.

"I can't believe I was assigned to you, my god!" He seethed.

"Then LEAVE!" He shouted.

"I won't, because I'm not disobeying my orders! It's my job to keep people like you in check and I'm sticking by it until the end of time, like what i'm supposed to do. I'm going to keep following you until you feed on humans, turn humans, and be grateful you died in our hands."

They both stared at each other silently, eyes fixed on the other with intimidating adrenaline.

"If you don't, you're dead. And I'll make sure of it. I'll make sure you don't up and head out of town this time."

"You wish."

He grabbed him by the shirt again, and began pulling him to the front.

Terrified, he turned back around, eyes wide.

Mitzi was gonna have a ball, hearing this.

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