[Fanfic] Monster Mash 4
Title: Monster Mash 4
Characters: Francis, Arthur, Alfred
Rating: 18
Warnings: Shockingly, hardly any blood in this one. Wall-o-text and backstories though.
Summary: Originally inspired by this. (Link to pic for those who don't have Pixiv here.) Due to popular demand, what was a oneshot has now spawned a fic.
Francis awoke the next morning with yet another bump to the head.
But instead of it being a book, it seemed that the door he’d fallen asleep leaning against was opening, bumping his head as well as pushing him across the floor and giving him one hell of a wedgie. Groaning, he rolled out of the way. Without his body weight keeping the door closed, the person who had been trying to open it fell straight through, landing face first on the bedroom floor. Alfred swore, sitting up and rubbing his nose.
“Ow ow ow...” he whined, pouting at Francis. “That hurt, why’d you have to move so... quickly...” he paused to stare, eyebrows climbing. “Wow, you look like shit.”
“Merci.” Francis grumbled, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes like it would drive away his headache. “What do you want, Alfred?”
The teen perked up instantly, injured nose forgotten. “Oh yeah, you said you’d help me make hamburgers right?” He chirped, smiling widely in anticipation. “Can we do that today? Please? Pretty please with sugar and candy on top?”
Francis squinted at him. “How old are you again?”
“Twenty in July, now come on, get up!” Strong hands grabbed the semi-ghost’s wrist, pulling him to his feet in one quick tug. “It’s 12 already and I’m staaaaarviiiiing!”
It was like dealing with an excitable child on Christmas. Grumbling to himself, Francis allowed Alfred to pull him out of his room and down the the stairs, through the dining room and into the kitchen, where it seemed he’d already got out the minced beef and other such ingredients. So it seemed he knew what went into a burger, but not how to make one. Francis rolled up his sleeves and went over to the basin, gesturing for Alfred to follow him.
“Why the sudden eagerness to learn to cook? Wash your hands before touching that.” Francis asked, smacking the teen’s hands away from the fresh meat and towards the sink.
“Well this house isn’t on google maps or any satellite things, ‘coz Arthur cast some kind of weird voodoo magic on it.” Alfred explained, running his hands under the warm water and messing around with the soap suds. “So I can’t just order stuff in, and it’s a pain having to drive to take out places. And Arthur can’t cook for shit, so I need to know how.”
“Sourcils hasn’t had to cook for nearly 500 years.” the older blonde smiled to himself, pulling the minced meat apart into even-sized clumps. “He only eats when he has someone staying over who will cook for him. Such as myself.” He snickered. “Also he’d probably give himself food poisoning, he’s that terrible. Food hygiene from the 16th century.”
Alfred laughed, carefree and blowing bubbles out of the soapy water in his hands. “He tried to cook me something once. I dunno what it was, it came out all black and stuff, but it wasn’t too bad!”
Francis stared openly at him.
Alfred washed the soap off his hands. “What?”
“You really are indestructible.” the Frenchman uttered in wonderment, shaking his head. Alfred continued to look confused, and Francis just shook his head. “Never mind.”
“So, like, how long have you known Arthur?” the teen asked after a pause, rinsing his hands. “You two seem pretty damn familiar with each other.”
Francis’ hands went briefly still, hovering over the individual clumps of mince. “It’s been a bit on-and-off, over the years.” he said, thinking back. “I think... yes, the first time we met was in 1548. I’d come across to London for a change of scenery. Ended up in the seedier parts of the city. Somewhat fitting, considering I was possessing a whore at the time.”
Alfred shuddered. “Okay, dude, I’m trying really hard not to think about how you’re a g-ghost and all, so can you not bring that up too often? I’m trying to get on with you here.”
“Sorry, sorry, I won’t say it.” Francis smiled to himself, holding up his hands. “But that’s why I was there, propositioning men for a good time. And you know, when you’re a woman of the night you tend to meet others of your kind.” he nodded. “Her name was Bess. Elizabeth really, but everyone called her Bess. Busty Bess if you were her customer. She had the longest, loveliest red hair I’ve seen in my days, and always wore green, without fail.”
The teen looked blank. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Let me finish.” the Frenchman said, continuing. “Bess got a lot of customers, but some times, they wouldn’t come back. Still, it was London, a lot of people vanished in London, and it was never anyone very important, so no fuss was made. She was good at what she did, drawing men in and then taking them back to her rooms. One night, a man, extremely drunk, propositioned both myself and Bess at the same time. She didn’t seem to want to go through with it. I thought she was trying to steal a customer from me. Eventually, she gave in, and on the condition we went to her rooms.” A smirk appeared. “And that was where I met Arthur.”
Alfred’s mouth hung open. “Arthur was living with a whore?”
“Don’t let him hear you call her that, he might kill you.” Francis warned. “Besides, she played the same role as you do now; she brought him prey. A feeder, is what they call it in a vampire’s terms. She was human though. Stayed that way, died naturally of old age.” he waved his hand. “But I’m digressing. Back to how I met Arthur. As I said, we went to her rooms, and performed without any interruption. To be honest, he was so drunk that it was terrible. Bess and I had to keep ourselves entertained.” He smirked. Ah, memories.
“Not interested, get to the good bit.” Alfred said, looking just as bored as he announced.
“Fine, fine. Bess got herself dressed again and went out through the door to the next room. I thought to myself ‘well, she’s off in a hurry,’ but I didn’t exactly want to stick around Monsieur Beer Belly either. So I got up, and started to get dressed as well, when suddenly, the door flew open. Whoever came through moved so fast I couldn’t see them, but the next thing I knew, the drunk man was gargling his last breath, and there was Arthur, teeth clamped on his throat and glowing red eyes watching me.”
Alfred seemed completely enraptured in the story, leaning forward in interest with wide eyes like a child.
“Of course, I’d never met a vampire before, but I had heard stories, so I screamed. But that didn’t get very far either, because Bess reappeared then, covering my mouth and grabbing my arms. ‘Hush’ she said in my ear, ‘you’ll wake the neighbours’. I was trapped. I tried kicking my legs, struggling, but Bess was a strong woman, you see. So what else was there for me to do? I ejected myself from the body I was possessing - sorry Alfred, but that’s part of the story - and got away from her. She was still holding the body of the whore, though it’d stopped moving, unconscious. I didn’t expect her to see me. Most people can’t see ghosts.
“This time, she was the one screaming. She dropped the body and scrambled back. Arthur abandoned his meal to go to her, to check she was alright. Then he noticed me too, and I began to wonder, how on earth had I stumbled onto not one, but two people who could see ghosts?
“We eventually managed to talk it out, though don’t let Arthur fool you into thinking he was always a gentleman, he was incredibly rude to me. I couldn’t get back into the original body I had, since I can only possess a body once, so I was stuck, but I ended up staying with them for a while.” Francis shrugged. “And that’s how I met Arthur.”
Alfred applauded him like he’d just finished the retelling of an epic. Playing along, Francis bowed slightly, smiling. “Man, you’re an awesome storyteller, Francis.”
“Merci, mon cher.” He said finally turning his attention back to the hamburgers. “So, fair is fair, how did you meet Arthur?”
The teen chuckled sheepishly. “Aw, my story isn’t even all that interesting next to your one.”
“I’d like to hear it still. Come help me squash these into flat circles, will you?” he moved to the side to allow Alfred access to the lumps of meat. The blonde eagerly pounced on them, carefully squishing them into flat disks.
“Right, well, okay, I came to England to get away from trouble at home, yeah? But you know, I can’t help but do what I do. So I’m chasing this one girl through the forest just north of here, and damn, she can run, like an athlete. But it’s a lot of fun chasing her, so I don’t try so hard to keep up. Anyway, one second I’m chasing her, and the next, she’s suddenly gone from my line of sight. I was seriously confused, until I looked down, and I could see her legs sticking out of the bushes, but they were all twisted in weird directions, like she’d been hit by a truck or something.” He crushed the heel of his hand into one of the burgers to illustrate.
“Course, it’s only now that I know it was probably because Arthur was going about as fast as a truck too, but right then I was hella confused. So I look in the bushes, and yep, there’s Arthur, snacking away on her neck, and shoulders, and pretty much everywhere. He must have been in one of his really crazy hungry moods. Maybe he hadn’t eaten for a week or something, I dunno, but he was going at her like it. I just kind of watched him for a while, because it’s kind of fascinating, isn’t it? When he gets all wild like that, ripping and tearing at them and getting all messy.”
Alfred was wearing that unsettling smile again, and Francis chose not to comment on whether or not such a display was fascinating or disturbing. It would probably escalate into an argument and Alfred might try a demonstration. Which nobody really wanted, did they?
“And I know he must have noticed me because he looked right at me, creepy glowing red eyes and all, and that was when I twigged that he was a vampire. Which is actually pretty cool. But he says he doesn’t sparkle in sunlight, just burns, so oh well.” he shrugged one shoulder. “Anyhow, he actually finished eating and then sat up all proper like and said all politely ‘sorry, is this yours?’ at me.” Alfred’s imitation of Arthur’s accent was laughable at best, and did elicit a chuckle from Francis. Alfred chuckled too. “Yeah, I know right? I mean, he’s covered in blood, the chick on the floor is totally decimated, and he’s trying to pretend like nothing happened?”
Francis shook his head. “He’s so obsessed with being a gentleman these days, I think the Victorian era really left an impression on him.”
“Definitely. Okay, so I take my mask off - I forgot to say, I usually go chasing people with a hockey mask on. Gotta love your classic horror movies - I take my mask off, and he just kind of freezes. And here comes the creepy part.” he leaned in conspiratorially, looking completely serious. “He totally knew my name.”
Ah. Francis pretended to be surpised, eyebrows shooting up, even if he knew exactly why Arthur recognised the teen murderer. Whether or not the two Alfreds were actually connected was a different matter.
“He ended up insisting I stay at his house, and eventually we just kind of fell into the routine of me getting folks and killing them and him eating them.” he pulled a face. “And what, you said that means I’m his feeder now? What am I, a zoo keeper?”
“I’m afraid so, mon ami.” Francis shook his head, stepping back to look over the burgers they’d made already. “Okay, let’s get these on the grill.”
Soon enough, the burgers were ready, and Alfred was heartily tucking in to one of them with all the vigor that he usually attacked his food with. He seemed quite contented though, and mumbled around a mouthful. “Thish ish really good!”
“They do say that food tastes better if you make it yourself.” Francis said, eating his own burger at a calmer pace. As it was, Alfred had three, and was already half-way through his second one. “Probably because you can make it just the way you like it.”
“Mustard, ketchup, onions, relish, lettuce and tomato!” Alfred grinned, then looked serious. “But never pickles. Not in my burger. Ick.”
Sometimes Francis found it hard to consolidate the image of the young man across from him - who had now started on a rant about how he didn’t like pickles in his burger and always had to pick them out - with the blood-soaked murderer that could be found every night in the basement. Which brought him to another thought entirely.
“Oh yes, what are we going to do about feeding Arthur?” he asked, gazing thoughtfully out the window at the garden. The slightly overgrown hedge maze still had a lingering mist around it, though it was quickly being burned through by the mid-day autumn sun. “No more killing people in the basement.”
Alfred shrugged one shoulder. “Let him starve for a few days. He’ll be fine, he always is.”
Francis raised an eyebrow at him. “You’d do that? It’s quite dangerous, you being a live, regular human and all. If you’re in the same house as him when he reaches his limit, it’ll be trouble.”
“Pfft.” the teen chuckled, flapping a hand at the Frenchman. “I can take him. I’ll fight him off if I have to.”
Blue eyes stared. “You.” Deadpanned Francis. “You can fight off a vampire. Without the aid of any kind of magical weapon.” Francis couldn’t help but gape at him. Vampires were notoriously strong, able to hold down the strongest of prey with little effort, as well as monstrously fast. When Alfred had described Arthur as going as fast as a truck, Francis wasn’t hard pressed to believe him.
“I got a chainsaw, but it’s not magic.” Alfred blinked back at him obliviously. “I know he’s pretty damn strong and fast, but he’s never gone for me as bad as he’s gone for anyone else. He lashed out this one time, but the second he drew blood - knocked me into a bookshelf, cut my elbow up good - he ran off. It’s not that dangerous. I’ve got worse cuts from my own chainsaw.”
‘Ah,’ thought Francis, understanding finally. ‘Must be because he looks like Arthur’s Alfred. But he doesn’t seem to know that.’ It would probably be prudent to remain quiet about such things. Especially after last night.
He wasn’t looking forward to when Arthur woke up this evening. He might have to make himself scarce.
“But yeah, he’ll probably just be sulky for a few days, he’s got enough downstairs that he won’t die or anything, but he gets all jumpy when he can’t get it fresh.” Alfred’s face was slightly mystified. “Vampires are weird.”
“I’ve met stranger creatures.” Francis said, picking up both his own and Alfred’s now empty plates and taking them to the dishwasher. “But vampires are very fickle, picky types. It’s not uncommon for them to develop a certain repetitive habits.”
“You mean like OCD? Arthur cleans enough that I bet he has it already.” the teen snorted. He was right, the house was nearly always spotless, aside from a few locked rooms. Perhaps it was a side effect of being alone for so long at night; he had to do something with his time.
“No, I mean very strange compulsions. There used to be a method of defeating vampires by dumping rice in their coffins.” When Alfred gave him a confused look, Francis explained more clearly. “They would have to count each grain, and by the time they were finished it would be nearly dawn, and the person they were chasing would be long gone.”
The American laughed. “Man, that’s kinda silly, doncha think? Big scary vampires getting their panties in a twist over some rice.”
“Sand also works. It just goes to show that most things of a supernatural nature have some kind of weakness.” He raised his eyebrows, smirking. “By the way, those religious symbols won’t repel ghosts like me. The salt would have worked if I hadn’t been in a human body.”
Alfred flushed, embarrassed and pouting. “What else works on ghosts?”
Francis made a thoughtful humming sound. “Depends on the kind of ghost. A wandering spirit like me is generally harmless unless provoked, just like a regular person, only dead. Poltergeists and vengeful spirits can sometimes only be satisfied by the death of their target, though you can get an exorcist in for those.” Drying off his hands, he picked at a loose thread on the towel. “Though it gets tricky there. A trait that ghosts share with vampires is that religious items and such like won’t affect them... unless they believed in them while alive.”
The teen opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “I don’t get it.”
“Say you were being chased by a vampire, and you held up a christian cross. If that vampire were, say, Jewish, he wouldn’t be affected by it. But if you held up a Star of David, or another Jewish symbol, he’d cringe away or run or, if you were close enough, crumble to dust.” He nodded. “When it comes to supernatural creatures, the matter of belief is very important. You’ve heard the story of Peter Pan, right?”
Alfred looked confused at the sudden change in direction of conversation but nodded. “I used to watch that movie loads when I was a kid.”
“It was a book and a play first. Either way, you know from that story that if you say, with conviction, ‘I don’t believe in fairies’, a fairy will drop dead. Following me?” At the teen’s nod, he carried on. “And you can bring a fairy back by clapping your hands to show you believe. It’s very basic, childish logic, but that’s the kind of thing the supernatural world runs on. There’s deeper stuff which is much more complex and you’d be better off asking Arthur about than me.”
“Right...” Alfred trailed off thoughtfully, sitting in silence for a few moments. “So. What would work on you? I mean, what did you believe in?”
Francis shrugged, smiling. “I was a Catholic, never particularly staunch, but followed it as you did in those days.” He indicated his body. “But when I’m possessing someone, that won’t affect me so easily. Chant some psalms, get some holy water, a priest and a nice big silver cross, and we’ll see. As it is I’m so stuck to this body now it’s practically mine. It’d probably be a difficult thing to do.”
Alfred sighed, putting a hand to his head. “This stuff is confusing and makes my brain ache. I’m gonna go watch some TV.”
“How long has Arthur had a television?” Francis asked, surprised. Generally the vampire failed miserably with operating any kind of electronic machinery, from what he could remember. Actually, the fact Arthur had installed lightbulbs in his house at all had come about only in the late 1960s.
“I got him one for Christmas. He wasn’t happy at first but now he’s crazy about his soaps. Like an old lady.” laughed Alfred. “And when I told them he could get them all recorded too, he made me go out and buy a DVD player too. I’m still trying to get him to buy a games console though.”
“I’m afraid you might have to give up on that dream, mon cher.” Francis shook his head. The rest of the afternoon passed in a lazy kind of atmosphere, with the chilly Autumn air creeping under the doors of the old house, enough that Alfred lit the fireplace up for them to keep warm by. Turned out Arthur kept his TV in a cupboard that had probably once housed books. It was only a small thing, but it worked well enough for Alfred to content himself watching Spiderman 2 on it. Francis was too busy marveling at modern cinematic technology to notice the sun set.
“Yeah, CGI’s kind of awesome. You can make anything with it these days!” Alfred grinned, slouching ever further in his seat. He was nearly horizontal by this stage. “To be honest, I see a lota stuff in this house that you could usually only make happen on a computer.” A frown formed. “Apart from that hellfire stuff from earlier. How the heck do you get black fire?”
Francis shrugged one shoulder, glancing to the window, and then sitting up slightly. “Oh. It’s nightfall.”
Alfred craned his neck to look. “Oh yeah, it is. Days getting shorter, eh?” he sighed forlornly. “Man, and tonight’s gonna be mega boring. Blarg.” He flopped sideways over the armrest of his chair, playing dead. “When d’you think Arthur’ll come down?”
‘Hopefully never.’ thought Francis nervously. He’d planned to make a run for it, but if he started now, the vampire would easily catch up with him. “Maybe he won’t bother, since there won’t be any food.”
“I dunno, maybe we should go wake him up.” Alfred seemed concerned now, sitting up. “I mean, what if he over-sleeps and wakes up at sunrise?” A look of horror crossed his features. “Oh no! Francis, what if he spilled a bowl of rice and sand and is stuck there picking up all the pieces?!” He lept to his feet. “We have to go help him! Come on!” He grabbed the Frenchman’s arm before any protest could be made, pulling him out of his seat with reckless strength, heading towards the door and up the stairs.
“Alfred, I really don’t think we should.” Francis knew it was a futile effort, since Alfred was much, much stronger than him, but maybe he had a faint hope of being let go if he voiced his opinion of the matter. “Arthur’s always grumpy right after he’s woken up.”
“Arthur’s always grumpy anyway.” the teen brushed him off, stopping right outside the door to Arthur’s room. “Arthur! It’s night time! Are you stuck in there counting rice?” There was no answer. Alfred turned to Francis, looking distressed. “He’s so caught up in it he’s not even able to talk! We’ll have to go in!” Francis was about to protest, but Alfred was too fast. His hand landed on the doorknob, and turned, pushing the door open to show the pitch dark room.
It was simply black. The light of the hallway didn’t even cut more than a single rectangle of illuminated carpet into the darkness. Alfred paused, as did Francis. The silence held. For a long moment, nobody moved.
“Arthur?” asked Alfred.
Red orbs appeared in the darkness, snapping open wide. Those two crimson points in the darkness stared out at the intruders. Then, just as sudden, other lights appeared. Millions of eyes appearing from the dark, peppering the velvet black with bright red. Their combined glow was enough to reveal the room’s contents.
The countless bats, perched on the ceiling, on Arthur’s 4 poster bed, hanging on the curtain rods above the blacked out windows, wings wrapped around themselves. Arthur himself was sitting up in bed, nothing more revealed of his face than his eyes and silently snarling mouth. He hissed, and in response, the bats let out a piercing cry, pitched high enough that both Alfred and Francis had to cover their ears. A cacophony of noise erupted as thousands of wings unfurled, and the bats took to their air, rushing out of the door, their sheer numbers forcing Francis to the ground, ducking and covering his head. He could feel their tiny claws scratching at him as they went past, defending their lair. The living black cloud swarmed above them and down the hall, out into the hallway and bursting through the front door. They seemed to go for ages, until finally, silence fell.
Francis opened one eye experimentally, and saw bare feet in front of him. Following them up, he found Arthur staring contemptuously down at him.
“I thought I told you to get out.” he uttered lowly, one bat still clinging on his shoulder. His eyes had returned to their usual green colour, but were cold and unforgiving as ice. “Worthless, snooping son of a whore.”
“I was only curious, Arthur.” Francis said, sitting up a little and taking his hands off his head. “You never told me.”
“You never asked.” his eyes narrowed. “Moreover, I can never be sure if I can trust you, can I?”
“Have you told Alfred?” Francis asked, noticing that the teen was no longer in the hallway. He’d probably run away, being faster than Francis.
“No.”
“He’s not the same one as your boy, you know.” the Frenchman said, warily. “They seem similar, but from what I recall, your Alfred was quite a quiet, kindly boy.”
A long moment passed, before Arthur let out a deep sigh. “We fought. Before he left.” he said, a weary tone to his voice. “He wanted to find a way to cure our vampirism. I didn’t want a cure, I was happy how I was. But he insisted, and eventually, left. He told me that if I didn’t want to solve the vampirism problem, he’d tell the hunters where I was, and solve it that way.” He absently stroked the little bat on his shoulder, scratching behind it’s large ears. “For so long... I’d hoped he’d return. Three hundred years, Francis. You have no idea what that’s like.”
“Non, I do not.” Francis stood up slowly, carefully. “Why are you doing this to yourself, mon cher?”
“Because, if I let him go, I’d lose it all again.” the vampire shook his head. “When I first saw him, I knew he wasn’t a vampire. My first reaction was to wonder if he’d finally made himself human, cured his vampirism so to speak. He always acted like it was some kind of disease.” The little bat took off, fluttering down the hall. Arthur watched it go. “But he’s not the same Alfred. He doesn’t remember me. He’s only 19. So then I wondered...” He looked back at Francis. “Had he had children?”
The older blonde raised his eyebrows. “Impossible. Vampires don’t reproduce, you know that.”
“Quite, we just sire more vampires. That is, I suppose, our reproduction. However, humans do reproduce. Do you follow?”
Ah. That made sense. “You think that your Alfred turned himself human, and had a family?”
“Yes.”
“You... you do realise that means your Alfred is long dead?”
Arthur’s mouth turned down, eyes narrowing. “Yes. I’m fully aware of that.”
“So why? Why are you doing this to yourself if you know full well it’ll only end in tears?” Francis knew he was pressing into dangerous territory here. Arthur might snap at him again.
But instead, the vampire closed his eyes. “Because I want a brief moment of happiness in this continually lonely existence.” Francis had never known green to be such a sad colour, but when Arthur looked at him, it was as though he had all the sins of the world on his shoulders. “Is that too much to ask for?”
Francis gave him a small smile, patting the other on the shoulder. “Non, mon cher. I think, for you, it’s just enough.”
Monster Mash 5
Notes:
- I'm not dead! I've just been really, really busy! Thanks for the support and comments so far, I really love reading them even if I don't get the time to respond to them!
Characters: Francis, Arthur, Alfred
Rating: 18
Warnings: Shockingly, hardly any blood in this one. Wall-o-text and backstories though.
Summary: Originally inspired by this. (Link to pic for those who don't have Pixiv here.) Due to popular demand, what was a oneshot has now spawned a fic.
Francis awoke the next morning with yet another bump to the head.
But instead of it being a book, it seemed that the door he’d fallen asleep leaning against was opening, bumping his head as well as pushing him across the floor and giving him one hell of a wedgie. Groaning, he rolled out of the way. Without his body weight keeping the door closed, the person who had been trying to open it fell straight through, landing face first on the bedroom floor. Alfred swore, sitting up and rubbing his nose.
“Ow ow ow...” he whined, pouting at Francis. “That hurt, why’d you have to move so... quickly...” he paused to stare, eyebrows climbing. “Wow, you look like shit.”
“Merci.” Francis grumbled, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes like it would drive away his headache. “What do you want, Alfred?”
The teen perked up instantly, injured nose forgotten. “Oh yeah, you said you’d help me make hamburgers right?” He chirped, smiling widely in anticipation. “Can we do that today? Please? Pretty please with sugar and candy on top?”
Francis squinted at him. “How old are you again?”
“Twenty in July, now come on, get up!” Strong hands grabbed the semi-ghost’s wrist, pulling him to his feet in one quick tug. “It’s 12 already and I’m staaaaarviiiiing!”
It was like dealing with an excitable child on Christmas. Grumbling to himself, Francis allowed Alfred to pull him out of his room and down the the stairs, through the dining room and into the kitchen, where it seemed he’d already got out the minced beef and other such ingredients. So it seemed he knew what went into a burger, but not how to make one. Francis rolled up his sleeves and went over to the basin, gesturing for Alfred to follow him.
“Why the sudden eagerness to learn to cook? Wash your hands before touching that.” Francis asked, smacking the teen’s hands away from the fresh meat and towards the sink.
“Well this house isn’t on google maps or any satellite things, ‘coz Arthur cast some kind of weird voodoo magic on it.” Alfred explained, running his hands under the warm water and messing around with the soap suds. “So I can’t just order stuff in, and it’s a pain having to drive to take out places. And Arthur can’t cook for shit, so I need to know how.”
“Sourcils hasn’t had to cook for nearly 500 years.” the older blonde smiled to himself, pulling the minced meat apart into even-sized clumps. “He only eats when he has someone staying over who will cook for him. Such as myself.” He snickered. “Also he’d probably give himself food poisoning, he’s that terrible. Food hygiene from the 16th century.”
Alfred laughed, carefree and blowing bubbles out of the soapy water in his hands. “He tried to cook me something once. I dunno what it was, it came out all black and stuff, but it wasn’t too bad!”
Francis stared openly at him.
Alfred washed the soap off his hands. “What?”
“You really are indestructible.” the Frenchman uttered in wonderment, shaking his head. Alfred continued to look confused, and Francis just shook his head. “Never mind.”
“So, like, how long have you known Arthur?” the teen asked after a pause, rinsing his hands. “You two seem pretty damn familiar with each other.”
Francis’ hands went briefly still, hovering over the individual clumps of mince. “It’s been a bit on-and-off, over the years.” he said, thinking back. “I think... yes, the first time we met was in 1548. I’d come across to London for a change of scenery. Ended up in the seedier parts of the city. Somewhat fitting, considering I was possessing a whore at the time.”
Alfred shuddered. “Okay, dude, I’m trying really hard not to think about how you’re a g-ghost and all, so can you not bring that up too often? I’m trying to get on with you here.”
“Sorry, sorry, I won’t say it.” Francis smiled to himself, holding up his hands. “But that’s why I was there, propositioning men for a good time. And you know, when you’re a woman of the night you tend to meet others of your kind.” he nodded. “Her name was Bess. Elizabeth really, but everyone called her Bess. Busty Bess if you were her customer. She had the longest, loveliest red hair I’ve seen in my days, and always wore green, without fail.”
The teen looked blank. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“Let me finish.” the Frenchman said, continuing. “Bess got a lot of customers, but some times, they wouldn’t come back. Still, it was London, a lot of people vanished in London, and it was never anyone very important, so no fuss was made. She was good at what she did, drawing men in and then taking them back to her rooms. One night, a man, extremely drunk, propositioned both myself and Bess at the same time. She didn’t seem to want to go through with it. I thought she was trying to steal a customer from me. Eventually, she gave in, and on the condition we went to her rooms.” A smirk appeared. “And that was where I met Arthur.”
Alfred’s mouth hung open. “Arthur was living with a whore?”
“Don’t let him hear you call her that, he might kill you.” Francis warned. “Besides, she played the same role as you do now; she brought him prey. A feeder, is what they call it in a vampire’s terms. She was human though. Stayed that way, died naturally of old age.” he waved his hand. “But I’m digressing. Back to how I met Arthur. As I said, we went to her rooms, and performed without any interruption. To be honest, he was so drunk that it was terrible. Bess and I had to keep ourselves entertained.” He smirked. Ah, memories.
“Not interested, get to the good bit.” Alfred said, looking just as bored as he announced.
“Fine, fine. Bess got herself dressed again and went out through the door to the next room. I thought to myself ‘well, she’s off in a hurry,’ but I didn’t exactly want to stick around Monsieur Beer Belly either. So I got up, and started to get dressed as well, when suddenly, the door flew open. Whoever came through moved so fast I couldn’t see them, but the next thing I knew, the drunk man was gargling his last breath, and there was Arthur, teeth clamped on his throat and glowing red eyes watching me.”
Alfred seemed completely enraptured in the story, leaning forward in interest with wide eyes like a child.
“Of course, I’d never met a vampire before, but I had heard stories, so I screamed. But that didn’t get very far either, because Bess reappeared then, covering my mouth and grabbing my arms. ‘Hush’ she said in my ear, ‘you’ll wake the neighbours’. I was trapped. I tried kicking my legs, struggling, but Bess was a strong woman, you see. So what else was there for me to do? I ejected myself from the body I was possessing - sorry Alfred, but that’s part of the story - and got away from her. She was still holding the body of the whore, though it’d stopped moving, unconscious. I didn’t expect her to see me. Most people can’t see ghosts.
“This time, she was the one screaming. She dropped the body and scrambled back. Arthur abandoned his meal to go to her, to check she was alright. Then he noticed me too, and I began to wonder, how on earth had I stumbled onto not one, but two people who could see ghosts?
“We eventually managed to talk it out, though don’t let Arthur fool you into thinking he was always a gentleman, he was incredibly rude to me. I couldn’t get back into the original body I had, since I can only possess a body once, so I was stuck, but I ended up staying with them for a while.” Francis shrugged. “And that’s how I met Arthur.”
Alfred applauded him like he’d just finished the retelling of an epic. Playing along, Francis bowed slightly, smiling. “Man, you’re an awesome storyteller, Francis.”
“Merci, mon cher.” He said finally turning his attention back to the hamburgers. “So, fair is fair, how did you meet Arthur?”
The teen chuckled sheepishly. “Aw, my story isn’t even all that interesting next to your one.”
“I’d like to hear it still. Come help me squash these into flat circles, will you?” he moved to the side to allow Alfred access to the lumps of meat. The blonde eagerly pounced on them, carefully squishing them into flat disks.
“Right, well, okay, I came to England to get away from trouble at home, yeah? But you know, I can’t help but do what I do. So I’m chasing this one girl through the forest just north of here, and damn, she can run, like an athlete. But it’s a lot of fun chasing her, so I don’t try so hard to keep up. Anyway, one second I’m chasing her, and the next, she’s suddenly gone from my line of sight. I was seriously confused, until I looked down, and I could see her legs sticking out of the bushes, but they were all twisted in weird directions, like she’d been hit by a truck or something.” He crushed the heel of his hand into one of the burgers to illustrate.
“Course, it’s only now that I know it was probably because Arthur was going about as fast as a truck too, but right then I was hella confused. So I look in the bushes, and yep, there’s Arthur, snacking away on her neck, and shoulders, and pretty much everywhere. He must have been in one of his really crazy hungry moods. Maybe he hadn’t eaten for a week or something, I dunno, but he was going at her like it. I just kind of watched him for a while, because it’s kind of fascinating, isn’t it? When he gets all wild like that, ripping and tearing at them and getting all messy.”
Alfred was wearing that unsettling smile again, and Francis chose not to comment on whether or not such a display was fascinating or disturbing. It would probably escalate into an argument and Alfred might try a demonstration. Which nobody really wanted, did they?
“And I know he must have noticed me because he looked right at me, creepy glowing red eyes and all, and that was when I twigged that he was a vampire. Which is actually pretty cool. But he says he doesn’t sparkle in sunlight, just burns, so oh well.” he shrugged one shoulder. “Anyhow, he actually finished eating and then sat up all proper like and said all politely ‘sorry, is this yours?’ at me.” Alfred’s imitation of Arthur’s accent was laughable at best, and did elicit a chuckle from Francis. Alfred chuckled too. “Yeah, I know right? I mean, he’s covered in blood, the chick on the floor is totally decimated, and he’s trying to pretend like nothing happened?”
Francis shook his head. “He’s so obsessed with being a gentleman these days, I think the Victorian era really left an impression on him.”
“Definitely. Okay, so I take my mask off - I forgot to say, I usually go chasing people with a hockey mask on. Gotta love your classic horror movies - I take my mask off, and he just kind of freezes. And here comes the creepy part.” he leaned in conspiratorially, looking completely serious. “He totally knew my name.”
Ah. Francis pretended to be surpised, eyebrows shooting up, even if he knew exactly why Arthur recognised the teen murderer. Whether or not the two Alfreds were actually connected was a different matter.
“He ended up insisting I stay at his house, and eventually we just kind of fell into the routine of me getting folks and killing them and him eating them.” he pulled a face. “And what, you said that means I’m his feeder now? What am I, a zoo keeper?”
“I’m afraid so, mon ami.” Francis shook his head, stepping back to look over the burgers they’d made already. “Okay, let’s get these on the grill.”
Soon enough, the burgers were ready, and Alfred was heartily tucking in to one of them with all the vigor that he usually attacked his food with. He seemed quite contented though, and mumbled around a mouthful. “Thish ish really good!”
“They do say that food tastes better if you make it yourself.” Francis said, eating his own burger at a calmer pace. As it was, Alfred had three, and was already half-way through his second one. “Probably because you can make it just the way you like it.”
“Mustard, ketchup, onions, relish, lettuce and tomato!” Alfred grinned, then looked serious. “But never pickles. Not in my burger. Ick.”
Sometimes Francis found it hard to consolidate the image of the young man across from him - who had now started on a rant about how he didn’t like pickles in his burger and always had to pick them out - with the blood-soaked murderer that could be found every night in the basement. Which brought him to another thought entirely.
“Oh yes, what are we going to do about feeding Arthur?” he asked, gazing thoughtfully out the window at the garden. The slightly overgrown hedge maze still had a lingering mist around it, though it was quickly being burned through by the mid-day autumn sun. “No more killing people in the basement.”
Alfred shrugged one shoulder. “Let him starve for a few days. He’ll be fine, he always is.”
Francis raised an eyebrow at him. “You’d do that? It’s quite dangerous, you being a live, regular human and all. If you’re in the same house as him when he reaches his limit, it’ll be trouble.”
“Pfft.” the teen chuckled, flapping a hand at the Frenchman. “I can take him. I’ll fight him off if I have to.”
Blue eyes stared. “You.” Deadpanned Francis. “You can fight off a vampire. Without the aid of any kind of magical weapon.” Francis couldn’t help but gape at him. Vampires were notoriously strong, able to hold down the strongest of prey with little effort, as well as monstrously fast. When Alfred had described Arthur as going as fast as a truck, Francis wasn’t hard pressed to believe him.
“I got a chainsaw, but it’s not magic.” Alfred blinked back at him obliviously. “I know he’s pretty damn strong and fast, but he’s never gone for me as bad as he’s gone for anyone else. He lashed out this one time, but the second he drew blood - knocked me into a bookshelf, cut my elbow up good - he ran off. It’s not that dangerous. I’ve got worse cuts from my own chainsaw.”
‘Ah,’ thought Francis, understanding finally. ‘Must be because he looks like Arthur’s Alfred. But he doesn’t seem to know that.’ It would probably be prudent to remain quiet about such things. Especially after last night.
He wasn’t looking forward to when Arthur woke up this evening. He might have to make himself scarce.
“But yeah, he’ll probably just be sulky for a few days, he’s got enough downstairs that he won’t die or anything, but he gets all jumpy when he can’t get it fresh.” Alfred’s face was slightly mystified. “Vampires are weird.”
“I’ve met stranger creatures.” Francis said, picking up both his own and Alfred’s now empty plates and taking them to the dishwasher. “But vampires are very fickle, picky types. It’s not uncommon for them to develop a certain repetitive habits.”
“You mean like OCD? Arthur cleans enough that I bet he has it already.” the teen snorted. He was right, the house was nearly always spotless, aside from a few locked rooms. Perhaps it was a side effect of being alone for so long at night; he had to do something with his time.
“No, I mean very strange compulsions. There used to be a method of defeating vampires by dumping rice in their coffins.” When Alfred gave him a confused look, Francis explained more clearly. “They would have to count each grain, and by the time they were finished it would be nearly dawn, and the person they were chasing would be long gone.”
The American laughed. “Man, that’s kinda silly, doncha think? Big scary vampires getting their panties in a twist over some rice.”
“Sand also works. It just goes to show that most things of a supernatural nature have some kind of weakness.” He raised his eyebrows, smirking. “By the way, those religious symbols won’t repel ghosts like me. The salt would have worked if I hadn’t been in a human body.”
Alfred flushed, embarrassed and pouting. “What else works on ghosts?”
Francis made a thoughtful humming sound. “Depends on the kind of ghost. A wandering spirit like me is generally harmless unless provoked, just like a regular person, only dead. Poltergeists and vengeful spirits can sometimes only be satisfied by the death of their target, though you can get an exorcist in for those.” Drying off his hands, he picked at a loose thread on the towel. “Though it gets tricky there. A trait that ghosts share with vampires is that religious items and such like won’t affect them... unless they believed in them while alive.”
The teen opened his mouth, then shut it, then opened it again. “I don’t get it.”
“Say you were being chased by a vampire, and you held up a christian cross. If that vampire were, say, Jewish, he wouldn’t be affected by it. But if you held up a Star of David, or another Jewish symbol, he’d cringe away or run or, if you were close enough, crumble to dust.” He nodded. “When it comes to supernatural creatures, the matter of belief is very important. You’ve heard the story of Peter Pan, right?”
Alfred looked confused at the sudden change in direction of conversation but nodded. “I used to watch that movie loads when I was a kid.”
“It was a book and a play first. Either way, you know from that story that if you say, with conviction, ‘I don’t believe in fairies’, a fairy will drop dead. Following me?” At the teen’s nod, he carried on. “And you can bring a fairy back by clapping your hands to show you believe. It’s very basic, childish logic, but that’s the kind of thing the supernatural world runs on. There’s deeper stuff which is much more complex and you’d be better off asking Arthur about than me.”
“Right...” Alfred trailed off thoughtfully, sitting in silence for a few moments. “So. What would work on you? I mean, what did you believe in?”
Francis shrugged, smiling. “I was a Catholic, never particularly staunch, but followed it as you did in those days.” He indicated his body. “But when I’m possessing someone, that won’t affect me so easily. Chant some psalms, get some holy water, a priest and a nice big silver cross, and we’ll see. As it is I’m so stuck to this body now it’s practically mine. It’d probably be a difficult thing to do.”
Alfred sighed, putting a hand to his head. “This stuff is confusing and makes my brain ache. I’m gonna go watch some TV.”
“How long has Arthur had a television?” Francis asked, surprised. Generally the vampire failed miserably with operating any kind of electronic machinery, from what he could remember. Actually, the fact Arthur had installed lightbulbs in his house at all had come about only in the late 1960s.
“I got him one for Christmas. He wasn’t happy at first but now he’s crazy about his soaps. Like an old lady.” laughed Alfred. “And when I told them he could get them all recorded too, he made me go out and buy a DVD player too. I’m still trying to get him to buy a games console though.”
“I’m afraid you might have to give up on that dream, mon cher.” Francis shook his head. The rest of the afternoon passed in a lazy kind of atmosphere, with the chilly Autumn air creeping under the doors of the old house, enough that Alfred lit the fireplace up for them to keep warm by. Turned out Arthur kept his TV in a cupboard that had probably once housed books. It was only a small thing, but it worked well enough for Alfred to content himself watching Spiderman 2 on it. Francis was too busy marveling at modern cinematic technology to notice the sun set.
“Yeah, CGI’s kind of awesome. You can make anything with it these days!” Alfred grinned, slouching ever further in his seat. He was nearly horizontal by this stage. “To be honest, I see a lota stuff in this house that you could usually only make happen on a computer.” A frown formed. “Apart from that hellfire stuff from earlier. How the heck do you get black fire?”
Francis shrugged one shoulder, glancing to the window, and then sitting up slightly. “Oh. It’s nightfall.”
Alfred craned his neck to look. “Oh yeah, it is. Days getting shorter, eh?” he sighed forlornly. “Man, and tonight’s gonna be mega boring. Blarg.” He flopped sideways over the armrest of his chair, playing dead. “When d’you think Arthur’ll come down?”
‘Hopefully never.’ thought Francis nervously. He’d planned to make a run for it, but if he started now, the vampire would easily catch up with him. “Maybe he won’t bother, since there won’t be any food.”
“I dunno, maybe we should go wake him up.” Alfred seemed concerned now, sitting up. “I mean, what if he over-sleeps and wakes up at sunrise?” A look of horror crossed his features. “Oh no! Francis, what if he spilled a bowl of rice and sand and is stuck there picking up all the pieces?!” He lept to his feet. “We have to go help him! Come on!” He grabbed the Frenchman’s arm before any protest could be made, pulling him out of his seat with reckless strength, heading towards the door and up the stairs.
“Alfred, I really don’t think we should.” Francis knew it was a futile effort, since Alfred was much, much stronger than him, but maybe he had a faint hope of being let go if he voiced his opinion of the matter. “Arthur’s always grumpy right after he’s woken up.”
“Arthur’s always grumpy anyway.” the teen brushed him off, stopping right outside the door to Arthur’s room. “Arthur! It’s night time! Are you stuck in there counting rice?” There was no answer. Alfred turned to Francis, looking distressed. “He’s so caught up in it he’s not even able to talk! We’ll have to go in!” Francis was about to protest, but Alfred was too fast. His hand landed on the doorknob, and turned, pushing the door open to show the pitch dark room.
It was simply black. The light of the hallway didn’t even cut more than a single rectangle of illuminated carpet into the darkness. Alfred paused, as did Francis. The silence held. For a long moment, nobody moved.
“Arthur?” asked Alfred.
Red orbs appeared in the darkness, snapping open wide. Those two crimson points in the darkness stared out at the intruders. Then, just as sudden, other lights appeared. Millions of eyes appearing from the dark, peppering the velvet black with bright red. Their combined glow was enough to reveal the room’s contents.
The countless bats, perched on the ceiling, on Arthur’s 4 poster bed, hanging on the curtain rods above the blacked out windows, wings wrapped around themselves. Arthur himself was sitting up in bed, nothing more revealed of his face than his eyes and silently snarling mouth. He hissed, and in response, the bats let out a piercing cry, pitched high enough that both Alfred and Francis had to cover their ears. A cacophony of noise erupted as thousands of wings unfurled, and the bats took to their air, rushing out of the door, their sheer numbers forcing Francis to the ground, ducking and covering his head. He could feel their tiny claws scratching at him as they went past, defending their lair. The living black cloud swarmed above them and down the hall, out into the hallway and bursting through the front door. They seemed to go for ages, until finally, silence fell.
Francis opened one eye experimentally, and saw bare feet in front of him. Following them up, he found Arthur staring contemptuously down at him.
“I thought I told you to get out.” he uttered lowly, one bat still clinging on his shoulder. His eyes had returned to their usual green colour, but were cold and unforgiving as ice. “Worthless, snooping son of a whore.”
“I was only curious, Arthur.” Francis said, sitting up a little and taking his hands off his head. “You never told me.”
“You never asked.” his eyes narrowed. “Moreover, I can never be sure if I can trust you, can I?”
“Have you told Alfred?” Francis asked, noticing that the teen was no longer in the hallway. He’d probably run away, being faster than Francis.
“No.”
“He’s not the same one as your boy, you know.” the Frenchman said, warily. “They seem similar, but from what I recall, your Alfred was quite a quiet, kindly boy.”
A long moment passed, before Arthur let out a deep sigh. “We fought. Before he left.” he said, a weary tone to his voice. “He wanted to find a way to cure our vampirism. I didn’t want a cure, I was happy how I was. But he insisted, and eventually, left. He told me that if I didn’t want to solve the vampirism problem, he’d tell the hunters where I was, and solve it that way.” He absently stroked the little bat on his shoulder, scratching behind it’s large ears. “For so long... I’d hoped he’d return. Three hundred years, Francis. You have no idea what that’s like.”
“Non, I do not.” Francis stood up slowly, carefully. “Why are you doing this to yourself, mon cher?”
“Because, if I let him go, I’d lose it all again.” the vampire shook his head. “When I first saw him, I knew he wasn’t a vampire. My first reaction was to wonder if he’d finally made himself human, cured his vampirism so to speak. He always acted like it was some kind of disease.” The little bat took off, fluttering down the hall. Arthur watched it go. “But he’s not the same Alfred. He doesn’t remember me. He’s only 19. So then I wondered...” He looked back at Francis. “Had he had children?”
The older blonde raised his eyebrows. “Impossible. Vampires don’t reproduce, you know that.”
“Quite, we just sire more vampires. That is, I suppose, our reproduction. However, humans do reproduce. Do you follow?”
Ah. That made sense. “You think that your Alfred turned himself human, and had a family?”
“Yes.”
“You... you do realise that means your Alfred is long dead?”
Arthur’s mouth turned down, eyes narrowing. “Yes. I’m fully aware of that.”
“So why? Why are you doing this to yourself if you know full well it’ll only end in tears?” Francis knew he was pressing into dangerous territory here. Arthur might snap at him again.
But instead, the vampire closed his eyes. “Because I want a brief moment of happiness in this continually lonely existence.” Francis had never known green to be such a sad colour, but when Arthur looked at him, it was as though he had all the sins of the world on his shoulders. “Is that too much to ask for?”
Francis gave him a small smile, patting the other on the shoulder. “Non, mon cher. I think, for you, it’s just enough.”
Monster Mash 5
Notes:
- I'm not dead! I've just been really, really busy! Thanks for the support and comments so far, I really love reading them even if I don't get the time to respond to them!