Art Entwined in Blood, Pt. 10

    Frank didn't know what to do. He had promised to leave, but he just couldn't. He tripped over a fold in the staircase carpeting and plundered to the floor boards, creating an echo in the empty Grand Room. He grumbled into the dust, cursing to the wood; his limbs were numb and he didn't feel the urgency to move. Everything was swimming in his mind that he thought he had started to see things. He thought the faint glow down the hallway was all in his head. The warm sensation of someone who belonged in the home overtook him and lifted him up to his fragile feet. The ornate rug seemed to pull him down the corridor, aiming towards the glow that grew brighter the closer he got. Running his hands along the cracks, Frank followed the glow, reminding him of when he found his neighbor bleeding mercilessly on the floor. The memory sent a chill up his spine. Soft whispers were emerging from the room, but nothing that sounded dangerous. In fact, it sounded a bit like...

    "Frank? Oh, no, he is but a man."

    "Are you positive? He seems a bit...close."

    "No, I am completely positive. He just enjoys company."

    "Your company?"

    "Company."

    Frank heard a quiet sigh, followed by a chair squeaking. He couldn't see anyone in the room, yet the door opened and someone brushed past him. A darker figure also left the room, but this one stopped and grabbed Frank's shoulder. He gasped of fright, but quickly inhaled sharply again, seeing the figure.

    "Gerard..."

    "Frank. What are you doing?"

    Gerard's face looked strained, like he was yelling, yet his words were as smooth as satin to Frank's ears.

    "Frank, I need to get you out of here, now. This is not safe, and you will die. Please, leave the circle. Now."

    Frank shook his head in confusion, looking for a circle. However, as his eyes wandered, the rug turned into grass and around him erupted in flames. In panic, he turned to Gerard, his face alight with the embers of their surroundings, tears streaming down his face.

    "Frank, can you even hear me?! Get out of here! Go! Don't worry about the flames, it'll only be slight burns; just go!" Gerard screamed over the incessant chanting from outside of the circle.

    He wanted to listen to Gerard, he really did. His legs, on the other hand, seemed to be concrete. His eyes glazed over, and Gerard's voice seemed to fade out. As the chanting grew louder, Frank's consciousness slipped further and further away. Gerard's mouth screamed one last thing before everything went black.

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    "...well, I don't really think..."

    "...it's the only way..."

    "...but what if we..."

    "...the doctor, um... Frank?"

    "Oh, God, Frank? Are you waking up? Is he waking up? Please say something if you can hear me!"

    "Jamia, calm down. He has been through a great deal. Let him take his time."

    Frank cracked his eyes open, but to only see shadows. He could tell he was in a hospital though; the beeping from the machines was louder than he would want it. His vision cleared as he saw his wife and... someone else standing next to her. They were both wet from rain.

    "Who are you?"

    Jamia followed his gaze and stared at the other man. She bit her lip slightly, nodding to him.

    "He's talking to you."

    The man stepped forward and crouched down to be eye level with Frank. He took his hand, being mindful of the IV tubes, and lightly kissed his fingers.

    "I'm afraid you don't need to know who I am, Frank," he breathed, his voice shaking. "I see now that you are better off not knowing my name or where I'm from. Hell, even what I am, though I know you never found out. It will just be easier this way; stay with your wife and have children, even! You will be happy; more happy than I could ever make you. If your complete memory ever rushes back to you, which I know it will eventually, just know that I'm sorry. My realm is just too dangerous for you to be in. I-"

    "Stop."

    "What?"

    "Stop. Yeah, I don't know who you are, but from the sound of it, we had a good run, maybe a little reckless. You seem really fancy and that's pretty cool. But I know for a fact that you're a Jersey dude and hey, I say we're family if you're in my hospital room; and Jamia knows you! You can't be all bad," he paused, "can you?"

    He chuckled and squeezed Frank's fingers while dropping his head. He looked back up and smiled, a genuine smile, where Frank could see small, nicotine-stained teeth with slightly sharper canines. It wasn't frightening, nor disturbing, but rather comforting to know that Frank himself wasn't the only one into vampires.

    "No, I guess not," his smile dimmed.

    "Maybe I could come over some time."

    The man's eyes widened as he stared at Frank's face. He shook his head, his wet, shoulder-length hair swinging wildly into his face. He stood up and dropped Frank's hand, mumbling something about having to drive home in the rain. He grabbed his jacket and hat and swiftly left the room. Jamia came up to him afterwards and gently kissed his forehead. She pulled over a chair and sat down.

    "What did he want?"

    "He was just telling me about what we did or something. How his life is more dangerous than mine. I bet he doesn't even do taxes, a rich guy like that," Frank giggled.

    "Oh Lord, the morphine kicked in," Jamia rolled her eyes.

    Frank erupted in laughter, trying to talk but unable to find words. Jamia rested her head on his shoulder and closed her eyes.

    "What... What was his name?"

    "Gerard," she hummed, almost falling asleep.

    "Gerard... That's a cool name."

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    "So are you done with him now?"

    "Yes, are you happy now?"

    "Yes."

    Michael stood in the corner of the library with a smug expression carved into his face. Gerard was packing books and journals into giant chests. He came across one book however, a certain Russian book. He stared at it, and carried it over to a chair by the fireplace. The cover and binding of the book were almost dust in his hands, and the words on the pages were almost faded to the point that it couldn't be read anymore. He gripped it tightly and held it to his chest. He sighed and with a single tear escaping his eye, he tossed the book into the flames and watched it be engulfed. He stood and returned to packing away his other books.

    "That was a fine choice, Brother."

    Gerard was silent.

    "Oh, are you not going to talk to me now? Because I helped you?"

    Gerard leapt at Michael, baring his teeth in a animalistic manner. He shoved him to the floor and clasped his hand around his throat.

    "You didn't help me!", Gerard snarled. "You helped yourself! The rest of the family had no problem with me being a human's friend, but you just wanted him dead! Does that sound like you were helping me? Does it? No! You are nothing but a pathetic abomination, searching for your lost love! Well, I will let you know one thing, Brother: she is dead! She has been dead! For close to one hundred years now! Even if she was alive, she would not want to see you anyway! You are a cold-hearted heathen that has no pleasure in anything but killing! You are not part of this clan," Gerard clenched his teeth, "and you are certainly not my brother."

    He released Michael's throat, to which he coughed repeatedly, trying to breath inwards. He curled into a ball, spitting on the floor. Gerard stood over him, waiting for him to stop. When he did, he looked up at Gerard with pleading eyes.

    "Brother, please! Have mercy!" he shrieked.

    "I have no mercy for you, Michael. Only for my brother," he replied coldly, swinging his leg as hard as he could towards the terrified face of a once innocent child.