Chapter Text
Through his haze he could hear Sweet Pea's concerned whines. His head stung like a hundred bees were flying around inside it. Gravity pulled at his ribs and something deeply unsettling nudged his conscious mind.
Then fuck. Right. It started coming back to him in waves.
__________________
"You think if I went to church more, God would hate me less?" Frank ran his thumb over the crucifix hanging from his necklace as he held the phone to his ear.
"No, but I think if you had less anal sex, God would like you more." Despite himself, he laughed.
A thick silence crackled over the line before Ray continued.
"Seriously though man, things haven't been great for you lately. Sweet Pea getting sick, the shop closing, and now your Grandma. Are you sure you want to go alone?"
"I'll be fine; I used to go there as a kid all the time. Plus it might be nice, you know, packing up all her stuff. Cathartic or whatever. Besides, you need to finish up, well..."
"Yeah."
Truth be told there were few things that ranked higher on Frank's list of Oh God Please Don't Make Me Do That, Why Do You Hate Me So Much than sorting through his dead Grandma's house, alone, in the middle of a swath of forest that made the Blair Witch Project seem quaint. But New Jersey's last independent record store was closing; subsequently leaving New Jersey's worst record store employees without jobs. Him and Ray were supposed to finish out the week lugging boxes and taking down shelving when Frank got the call about his Grandma. As much as he wanted his best friend with him he knew Ray needed the money from the last week of work. Hell, he needed the money too but didn't have much of an option. Flesh and blood and all.
"Well I'll come check on you at some point. Make sure you haven't had your blood sucked."
"Haha very funny. You know those are all stories anyways. No one's actually seen a real vampire in like 30 years. That's basically forever."
"Let's hope for your sake that's not true. It would be the most action you got in-"
"I'm hanging up now asshole."
"You love me."
"Whatever."
"Honestly, call me if you need anything. And I'm sorry. Your Grandma was a cool old lady."
Car loaded up with a thermos of coffee, Sweet Pea, a duffel bag of warm clothes and four packs of cigarettes he started his journey.
His heart ached as he watched the trembling dog in the front seat. She was the runt of her litter and couldn't find a home. She was dumped in an ally by the breeder and lived under a dumpster until Frank found her. Two weeks ago the vet told him she had cancer. Poor little thing never really had a chance. Frank didn't even know dogs could get cancer. She was doing her best though- still running around and licking Frank's face. It was probably a good thing Frank brought her. The fresh air would be nice for her. And despite not believing in them, not really anyways, it was always best to take every precaution available against vampires.
The last verified sighting happened 30 years ago in 1974. Vampires, for the most part, left everyone the hell alone. And they left the vampires alone. They were hard to find and almost impossible to tell apart from a human. The only thing to give them away was their cold skin; if you were close enough to feel it it was too late anyways. Dogs on the other hand had an innate ability to tell the two apart. Growling and barking at any creature of the night. Frank glanced over at Sweet Pea and couldn’t imagine her putting up a fuss. Oh well. Vampires were extinct. Probably.
As his car thumped and kicked down the freeway, buildings became shorter and more spaced out, eventually giving way to trees and thorn bushes. A fuzzy mist snaked around the underbrush like a spider's web and Frank might have thought it beautiful on a different day.
The road turned to gravel, then dirt, then mud. He could feel the sharp jolts of his '93 junker car turn syrupy. Fuck.
He made it another mile before all movement stopped and he was left alone with the sounds of Sweet Pea panting and his Misfits CD.
Getting out of the car he realized it was only a short walk to the solitary house that broke up the woods. The only house for miles and miles. He was the only person for miles and miles.
Examining his tires that had sunk deep into the mud he relented.
"Guess I won't be going anywhere in a hurry." Great. Three minutes in the woods and he was already talking to himself.
Hand on the doorknob of a house much older than himself Frank looked back at the forest. It looked normal. For about 30 seconds. Then the trees seemed to twist and contort into gnarled shapes, dead leaves started to grow eyes and mouths and tangled roots reached out to him like hands. Despite his knit sweater and jeans the unique chill of the forest forgotten by time seeped into his very bones. Every muscle was on a hairpin trigger and goose flesh raised along his body. He felt dizzy with it. An intoxicating thrum of fear edged at his feet and pulled at his mind. He blinked and the trees were just trees again.
This is why he stayed in the city. Plus Frank was fairly certain you couldn't get Chinese delivery out here. He opened the door and closed himself and Sweet Pea inside, or closed the forest outside, if he were being honest with himself.
Yellowing wallpaper with the ancient echoes of a floral design peeked and bobbed around, lost in the sea of crucifixes that encrusted the walls. Frank ran a finger over one that had Mary's face in the middle. Seemed wrong somehow to let her steep in the dirty veil of dust. Transfixed by the sheer number of crosses Frank was half convinced they had cast a spell over him. Wormed their way into his brain and pushed themselves out of his eye sockets. He started seeing them carved into the baseboards. Burned above the stove. Scratched into frames holding out of date photos. It was too much- overwhelming suddenly. He had to get out of there. His feet moved of their own accord until his back connected with a lamp and they both went tumbling to the ground.
_________________________
And here he was. His head throbbed like a bottle of tequila. A tentative hand reached out and he could feel the very real raised edges of a cross carved in the base of the lamp.
He wasn't sure if he was relieved or not that this wasn't a hallucination. He knew his grandma was religious but this. Well this was insane.
His eyes wandered to the darkening forest as he propped himself back up.
He spent the next two hours prying crosses off the wall with a crowbar and throwing them into a cardboard box in the corner of the room. If only the nuns from school could see him now. One solitary cross remained unmoved. Mary's tear stained face watching his every action.
If he was ever going to be able to sell the house it needed to look distinctly less like a set from a horror movie.
The house had been built in 1912 but the majority of it had been torn down to rebuild sometime in the 70s. All that remained of the original was the guest room Frank always slept in as a child when he came to visit.
He put away the sparse groceries he'd brought with him and saw unmarked metal cans stacked in the bottom cupboard. A shiver ran up his spine. They'd been there, untouched, since he was a kid. He wondered if the metallic red filling had congealed or turned to dust over time. His grandma always thought it best to have an olive branch to reach out.
She was lucky- all things considered. Living alone in the woods apparently infested with vampires and dying at the ripe old age of 87 by natural causes. He supposed the rest of his family was too- they’d all done well for themselves. But not him. Misery stuck to him like a slick sweat in the humid Jersey summer. It clogged his throat and crusted over his eyes. Worst of all he didn't even know what he'd done to deserve it. Sure, he wasn't a saint by any stretch of the word but he wasn't a dick. It wasn't his fault he finished university at the same time an economic collapse ravaged the cities. Nowhere decent was hiring. Thankfully, with his drinking habit and suitcases full of self guilt, he wasn't decent. He'd been working at the record shop for two years now with Ray. It wasn't all bad. They goofed off a lot and Ray didn't tell their manger when he went 'round back and smoked pot. He would miss seeing Ray's smiling face everyday. He would miss his shitty two bus commute. He'd miss skimming change off the tip jar to go buy a coffee from the cute barista across the street on breaks. It wasn't fair. He didn't fucking deserve it. What he was quite sure he did deserve, however, was the expansive display of alcohol arranged neatly behind crystal glasses and tall spoons. Thank you Grandma Iero.
He unscrewed the top of a bottle filled with something clear and amber. It smelled like a blackout; might as well have had a sign that said ‘drink me’ on it.
After twenty minutes he had the antiquated speaker system working and music blasting through the creepy house. The bass line rattled the china cabinet and he lit a cigarette. Maybe it wouldn’t be too bad here.
Alcohol addled confidence made him open the sitting room window.
“Hope you like Dead Kennedeys you blood sucking freaks!”
No one answered. He felt an odd pang of disappointment. Frank went back to the ‘drink me’ bottle.
Normally when he went to bed drunk he slept like the dead. But not tonight.
He kept jolting awake feeling a hundred sets of eyes on him. The fourth time he woke up he wanted to scoop his brain out and wash it down the sink. The wave before the storm hit as nausea snaked up his throat. He ran to the bathroom and vomited. What a waste of alcohol. Now he was going to have to sleep sober. Like this night didn’t already blow. He couldn't wait to be done packing up this shit and go home to his crappy apartment.
As he stepped into the guest room the feeling of eyes boring into him amplified. He wanted to hide inside his skin or sink down into the earth. He felt like a kid but he could swear the darkness was moving around him. He could’ve sworn it licked him with something sickly and hot. His heart beat faster and with a shaking hand he switched on the light.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he remembered pestering a nun, Sister Agnes, as a kid with questions about Hell. What was it like? What did they do to people there? What did demons look like? She had told him to be quiet. She had said some things were best left unknown. He really wished he hadn’t turned the light on.
It was human shaped but inside out. Slick red insides shone in the delicate overhead light. At first he thought it didn’t have eyes but then he saw them in soft, fleshy craters embedded in the creature's hands and extending up its arms; Frank tried to count them but froze as they all turned in his direction. It walked on all fours, contorted grotesquely, with its spine to the floor. He thought about Sweet Pea asleep in the sitting room in front of the fireplace. He hoped she stayed there.
His feet were rooted to the floor and his chest couldn’t keep up with his barreling heart. Maybe it would explode. Maybe that was a better way to go than whatever this thing was going to do to him. Its movements were slow and sloppy as it dragged itself over to Frank. Long nails scratched the floor. A crack rang over the room like a jet liner; the creature had spun its head around to face Frank instead of the ceiling and oh fuck. A broken jaw dragged along the floor and a tangle of intestines and guts poked out from what Frank assumed at some point must have been its lips.
In Sister Agnes’ voice it told Frank to be quiet as its teeth dug into the flesh of his hip and its nails sunk into his thighs.
Frank woke up with sheets twisted around his legs and sweat dripping down his face. It was just a dream. The red numbers on the alarm clock blared at him like a sleazy neon sign. The feeling of relief made him lightheaded. He almost giggled. Maybe it was time to stop watching so many horror movies.
Something wet splattered his forehead.
His eyes flicked up before he could stop them. The slack jawed monster clung to the ceiling above his bed. All of its eyes blinked as blood dripped from its mouth.
Frank screamed.
He woke up on the floor curled into a ball and ran to the light switch. No monsters. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Dark circles, dry skin, wild hair, a red bloody face behind him.
The cycle of nightmares continued for the rest of the night.
By the time he pried open his crusted over eyes it was only 8am but he couldn't face another dream so he, his headache and Sweet Pea filed downstairs. He pretended not to see the scratches on the floor. They were definitely there before last night. Probably.
He looked out the window. Overcast. Of course.
Sweet Pea whined at the door and he let her out to run around. He sighed as he watched her wiggle out the door. She’d lost more weight.
His mouth felt pasted shut like someone had filled it full of cement and let it dry overnight. He eyed the faucet as a dream from last night rushed back and shivered as he remembered the maggots pouring into the sink. Coffee it was. Who needed water anyways?
He switched on the ancient machine and trudged back upstairs to the bathroom. He looked like shit. His lips were dry and pale, looking stark against his lip rings, his cuticles were bleeding, dark circles would’ve been a complement for the mess under his eyes and his previously sweat soaked hair had stiffened and dried at odd angles. The clothes he passed out in last night were rumpled and damp. He noticed a bit of vomit on his shirt. Fuck. Fine he’d shower- but he wasn’t going to like it.
Despite his resolution to be miserable the hot water felt nice on his sore body and dampened the pounding in his head. By the time he got out and brushed his teeth he felt almost human; colour had returned to his cheeks and lips and he’d managed to get all the grime and goo out of his eyes. He even drank a few mouthfuls of water from the shower head. The image of perfect health he decided as he lit up a cigarette after pulling on clean black jeans, an old t-shirt from an ex girlfriend and a ratty knit sweater.
Guilt edged at his mind as he sipped his coffee from a ridiculous china teacup and texted Ray. He had promised to do it when he got here last night. But then he got busy. Being drunk. And screaming Dead Kennedy songs to imaginary vampires in the forest. God, he needed some hobbies; he was definitely going to take guitar back up when he got home. Or get a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. Anything to make his evenings slightly less pathetic.
He shifted slightly on the floor as he called for Sweet Pea. There was no point sitting anywhere else until he started cleaning. Everything was coated in dust- the type that's greasy and tacky and clings to everything and won't quite ever come off. He tapped his foot impatiently when it hit him. He never let her back in the house.
Terror worse than any of his nightmares raced through him as he ran out the front door yelling her name. Fuck. Fuck!
45 minutes later he collapsed on the porch. No Sweet Pea to be seen. What a shitty fucking person he was letting his dog with cancer get lost in the fucking vampire woods even though vampires probably aren't fucking real. He picked up a rock and threw it as hard as he could into the trees.
“Ow!”
Standing at the edge of the porch with a hand up to his forehead where the rock had assumedly hit him and mouth agape like a 1920’s silent film actress was a man who looked distinctly out of place. He had a gamine face and black hair tucked behind his ears, a few pieces of loose fringe above his eyes, black skinny jeans, converse, a grey denim jacket with beautiful painted pictures up the sleeves of supernaturally hued flames and he could swear the dude was wearing mascara. But none of that really mattered because he was holding Sweet Pea. The dog happily lapped at the guy’s face and wagged her tail enthusiastically.
“Oh my God! You found her! Fuck, thank you so much.” Frank shivered as his hand brushed against the guy’s as he picked up Pea from him. Their arms were momentarily tangled together as the dog tried to stay in the other guy’s arms. Traitor. Another pang of guilt swept through Frank as his cross necklace scraped against the guy’s wrist and he flinched.
“Come on.” He gestured to the porch and a wide smile broke across the guy’s face. There was something a bit off about it.
“I’m Gerard. You seriously must be the only other person living in the woods." An incredulous laugh escaped his mouth. "I haven’t seen the dog before though?”
“Oh, I’m just here for a bit. This was my grandma’s house. I’m cleaning it out so we can sell it I guess. Frank, by the way.” He extended his hand but Gerard never took it. A bit freaky but whatever. You had to be a bit of a freakshow to willingly live in this forest.
“Sorry to hear she passed.” He looked down at his shoes with his brows drawn together. The guy looked genuinely upset.
“Thanks, it’s fine, she went peacefully and all that. The house is kind of creepy though.”
Gerard let his eyes fall on the peeling white paint and crooked shutters.
“I kinda like it.”
“Yeah, creepy can be cool I guess.”
His eyes lit up at that. “You think so?”
“Yeah, sure. I mean like The Misfits can be creepy but they’re cool.”
“No way! I love them!”
“I have their CD and some coffee. I should probably thank you after throwing a rock at you and you saving Sweet Pea and all that.” They both laughed and something odd and electric passed through the air. “Did you want to c-”
It hit Frank then- what was off about Gerard’s smile. His teeth were small and even, perfectly spaced- except two. His canines were slender and sharper than the rest of his teeth.
Normally he would dismiss it. But cold hands, pointy teeth, appearing out of fucking nowhere in the woods with no car to be seen, his grimace when he passed Sweet Pea over and his hand brushed over Frank's crucifix necklace.
The threshold of the house suddenly seems too far away to Frank.
Two sets of hazel eyes bore into each other. Frank knew. And Gerard knew Frank knew. For once something went right in Frank’s life as the sky overhead began to lighten with orange and yellow. A break in the clouds.
“I’d, uh, better go.” He looked sad in a way Frank had never seen before. A deep seated sadness that permeated everything around him and hung in the air- almost tangible. Before Frank could answer he’d started back into the trees.
Guilt clung to Frank like a widow to melancholy. He couldn’t put into words exactly why he felt bad but that look in Gerard’s eyes had everything to do with it.
His body seemed to catch up to the situation before his mind did and he scrambled back into the house with Sweet Pea at his feet. Some fucking vampire detector she was.
As Gerard retreated Frank saw the painting on the back of his jacket and almost passed out. The same image of Mary on the cross that Frank had left up was engulfed in flames. Her peaceful face seemed to hold some sort of power as her own destruction raged on around her. It was haunting.
As Mary’s painted face disappeared into the trees the gravity of the situation hit Frank. A vampire knew where he lived, his car wasn’t going anywhere fast, nevermind the fact he’d have to venture into the forest to retrieve it and no one but Ray knew he was here. Outside the house vampires stalked the woods and inside gory monsters clutched at his mind. Nowhere was safe and he was fucking stuck here.
Breathing became difficult and his knees stopped supporting him. He let himself slide to the floor as massive sobs wracked his body and ringing filled his ears. He shoved his hands over them trying to make it shut up.
Frank wasn’t sure how long he laid like that but by the time he regained control of himself his legs had cramped. Sweet Pea sat next to him nuzzling his shoulder. He patted her absentmindedly.
“Good girl.” His voice sounded wrecked and croaky. He reached for a cigarette as she wagged her tail.
It had been a long time since he had a panic attack that bad.
He thought about texting Ray but decided against it. He was stressed enough having to close down the store by himself. He didn’t need Frank’s shit on top of that.
Frank resorted to his tried and true method of problem solving- ignoring it until it either went away or ultimately destroyed his life. Either option didn’t bother him that much. It’s not like things were going great anyways.
He cranked the stereo and started packing. Whenever Pea needed to go out he clipped her leash on and waited for a break in the clouds. When he was pretty sure he would die of boredom if he had to pack up another set of china he let his mind wander.
He started thinking about how normal Gerard looked. How nice. How pretty. Wait- fuck. He groaned. Of course his fucked up mind gave him a crush on a probable vampire that theoretically wanted to suck his blood. He decided to cut himself some slack. It had been a while since he had gotten any action so his mind, and body, were desperate for anything. At least that’s what he told himself. Even if Gerard was human it’s not like he was Frank’s type anyways. He didn’t usually go for the art school dropout look.
As evening set in so did Frank’s supernatural ability to procrastinate. Apparently not even the fear of an undead creature ripping out his neck was enough to make him meet a deadline. He convinced himself he’d gotten enough done for the day and cracked open a beer from the fridge he’d brought with him.
While he was sifting through knick knacks he’d found an old photo album. He settled on the couch with his drink and Sweet Pea at his feet and started to flip through it.
A little girl smiled up at him. Black and white photos morphed into colour and wrinkles formed around the woman’s bright eyes. Eventually the man, constantly at her side, stopped appearing in photos and her face looked sadder- almost desolate. Seeing his grandma’s whole life laid out before him tugged at his chest.
A whole person- with a life and a heart and passions and ideas- gone. It seemed wrong all of a sudden that these photos were trying to be her. They didn’t have her laugh or her soft hands or the way she always used to smile before a good cup of coffee. She always used to say her little Frankie made the best coffee in the entire world; he was so proud, at nine years old, pouring a coffee for his grandma. It wasn’t until he was older he realized she was just being nice. He didn’t understand how all that could just be gone. All her energy and soul stuffed into little pieces of paper. He wanted to throw them out suddenly but somewhere in his rational mind he knew he’d regret it later. He settled for slamming the book shut and downing his beer.
Another beer fizzed open. He thought of the stories she would tell him. Of fairies. Of goblins. Of vampires.
She never thought they were evil; said they were lost souls waiting for someone to reach out a hand. She told him how they were cold, how crucifixes burned them, how the sun turned their skin red and painful, how they needed permission to enter a house. He was quite sure that’s what gave him his fear of answering the door. Even the pizza delivery man knew to knock and leave the pizza on the floor. She also told him how his room was part of the old house. How it was safe no matter what; if anything happened, she told him, run to your room and don’t let anyone in. The only reason, she said, that vampires hurt people is because they are creatures of the night. Susceptible to Satan’s will. They could be possessed by demons and wreak havoc on the living. It was rare though. A vampire attack hadn’t been recorded since the 1930’s. Not that it comforted him; most people who saw a vampire attack didn’t exactly live to tell about it.
He used to think it was just superstition. He knew vampires existed but thought, along with most other people, that they had died out long ago. They were too overrun with their own guilt to kill a race they used to be a part of. The evil ones, the possessed ones, they hunted their prey. But people began to move away from the forests- to cities and towns. Without their food source few survived.
Frank decided then Gerard wasn’t possessed. The sadness in his eyes was too real- too human. That didn’t stop him from jumping as a branch scratched at the window. Or flinching when the moans of the wind started to sound a bit too much like his name. He got another beer.
A sense of dread followed him around dutifully, like a servant to a master (although Frank wasn’t sure which he was), as he tugged on his pajamas and brushed his teeth. He ventured cautiously downstairs to turn off the lights.
Growing up with a belief in the supernatural hanging in the air gave you a certain sense of calm. Odd noises and strange shuffling? Could be a monster- sure. But it had been studied and proved over and over again- most of the time it wasn’t. But as the hall lights flickered off and a shadow fell across the foyer floor a million years of evolution told Frank something was wrong. Trees didn’t move like that, didn’t have curves in their arms reminiscent of a violin or teeth like Juliet's dagger.
He wanted it to be silly. To be something he could laugh off with Ray later. But then it knocked. The shadow on the other side of the door knocked.
Maybe it was the wind.
Maybe it was Gerard.
Sweet Pea pranced to the door and started wagging her tail and barked happily. Dread curled in Frank’s stomach as he remembered her reaction to Gerard before.
An icy feeling spilt over his head and he was pretty sure he was going to die.
He reminded himself Gerard couldn’t come in unless Frank invited him. Nothing to lose by opening the door and looking. Just checking. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight otherwise and he was fucking tired from his marathon of night terrors the previous evening.
His hand paused on the doorknob; he supposed it was like ripping off a band-aid.
Creaaaaaaakkkkkkkkk.
Nothing. Just darkness and humid air and moths.
At first.
Slowly the darkness and shadows on the porch morphed and pinched and twisted into something human (he hoped) and Frank realized he’d been staring at Gerard this whole time.
A pale face blinked at him.
“I didn’t think you’d answer.”