Greg-the-Vampire

[aggybird]

Kee-rist, here's the next bit. Since I was scolded for lack of puns, I made up for it in this chapter. Be careful what you wish for, jerks.

You know, this story is about 3/4 of the way done. D:

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four | Part Five | Part Six | Part Seven | Part Eight | Part Nine | Part Ten | Part Eleven | Part Twelve | Part Thirteen | Part Fourteen | Part Fifteen | Part Sixteen



Greg found the warming spell he was looking for and practiced it on three separate sinks in the house to make certain he had it right before he tried it out for Flipper. Since the first sink had exploded, and the water in the second sink had vaporized, he felt this was a justifiable concern.

Frank and Drake would be waiting for them to switch shifts, so he made certain he had the spell mastered and he and Luce hopped into Luce’s Firebird and made their way to the orphanage.

On the car ride there, he stared out the window and let himself feel . . . happy. There were thoughts trying to crowd into his head: dangerous spells, the children’s safety, Arvel, Cregan - but he would think about them later. For now, he had warm sun on his face, a full stomach, and the closest friend he’d ever had. He wasn’t sure he was allowed to be so lucky.

Luce seemed content to leave him to his silence; he hummed along to a Thomas the Fly Rhymer song on the radio, tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time with the beat.

When they arrived at the orphanage, Greg found that his good mood evaporated entirely: Frank and Drake waylaid Luce at the door, saying that they needed to speak with him privately. Frank gave Greg a sympathetic, guilty look and Greg wanted to smash in his nose.

He made an excuse about needing to check the perimeter anyway, as though he couldn’t be bothered with a short meeting even if they’d asked, and watched them go into Luce’s office, a hard, bitter knot forming high in his throat. No matter how long he’d helped out at the orphanage or how hard he’d worked, it seemed he would never be a member of their little circle.

It hurt, but it was a familiar kind of hurt. He was well used to feeling alone. He’d simply thought - with all the things he’d shared with Luce - that it might have been different.

He shook off his melancholy thoughts. Hadn’t he told himself he would appreciate things while he had them?

He went upstairs to check on the children and found them all down for an afternoon nap in the playroom. Sniffing cautiously at the air, he detected a hint of chloroform. The children were sleeping very soundly.

He watched them for a few minutes. Emma lay on a blue mat, curled around her dolls; the twins, Flint and Malachite, slept back to back; Flipper dozed in a shallow wading pool, blowing bubbles in his sleep; Oliver was on his back, his feet kicking in the air as he dreamt a were-cat dream. It probably involved mice. The baby naga was asleep in her crib; the wooden bars bore faint teeth marks and Greg made a mental note to reinforce them with steel before the baby splintered the wood with her teething.

Taking one final look around the room, he bent to brush a lock of hair from Emma’s forehead and left, quietly shutting the door behind him.

He was halfway down the stairs when the alarm ward over the front door sprang to life inside his mind. Before he did anything else, he turned and sprinted back up the stairs and cast a shielding spell around the room that held the sleeping children. Then he raced toward the front door, the alarm spell screaming in his head as he vaulted over the railing and landed hard on the floor, causing the wooden boards to vibrate with the impact.

The wards were reacting to someone they didn’t recognize, someone who they had deemed strong enough to pose a threat. That was not good.

He skidded out into the long hallway, the riotous sound of the alarm still clanging between his ears, and thought about calling for Luce’s help. When he saw the intruder, he stopped dead. Well, undead.

A young woman stood at the end of the hall just inside the front door, glancing at her surroundings with apparent interest. She was petite and thin, with short, spiky purple hair. She might have almost passed for human, if not for her faintly green skin and the large, curling snake tail that sprouted through the back of her jeans and writhed across the floor. A battered orange messenger bag hung carelessly off her shoulder.

“Hello,” Greg said shortly, striding toward her and making a quick gesture to silence the spell in his head. “Who are you and what are you doing in my - this orphanage?” He was aware that his voice did not sound very friendly.

The girl didn’t smile - she grinned. Apparently no one had ever told her it was poor form to grin at vampires barreling down upon her. She looked to be in her early twenties, at exactly the age when most monsters possessed far more confidence in their abilities than was warranted, and as she grinned Greg could see two long, curved fangs extend from her mouth.

“I’m Nagina,” she said. “But you can call me Gina. And I’m here to teach stuff to your little buggers and make sure they stay outta trouble. I’m the resident hall monitor with a side of history tutoring.”

Greg looked askance at her ripped jeans, her multiple piercings, and her faded “Black Hags World Tour” t-shirt and said, “Surely not.”

Gina frowned, almost imperceptibly. “Well, the ol’ phoenix himself hired me.”

“Was he drunk?”

Gina laughed merrily. “Naturally. Reckon he was drunk off my wild beauty.” She tossed her head, and her tail flicked back and forth behind her. It caught Greg’s attention.

“You’re a naga halfling?” Greg asked, surprise registering in his voice.

“If I wasn’t a halfling,” Gina said, “I woulda spit paralyzing venom in your eyes and suffocated you with my tail the second I saw ya. Naga instincts ‘n all.” She grinned again, showing off her large, hooked fangs, and favored Greg with a wink.

“I . . . see,” Greg replied slowly. He was certain that part of the reason Luce had hired such a perky young monster was purely to annoy him. “Well, I’m a vampire. I would have wiped your venom from my eyes and ripped out your jugular. Vampire instincts and all.”

“You’re a vampire,” Gina said flatly, her tone indicating she thought his next words might be something like, “And a Viennese polka champion.”

“I’ve always preferred the term ‘Temporary Exsanguinator,’ but yes,” Greg said, crossing his arms. “The black clothes didn’t give it away? The general air of brooding and menace?”

“Nah, thought vampires were scarier than you. You’re just kinda grumpy - I thought ya were a gargoyle,” she said, leaning against the hall wall with an indolent shrug. Her forked tongue peeked out from between her smiling lips. Her smile was almost contagious. “‘Old Stone Face’ suits ya.”

“I highly advise you against attempting to call me that. What about my gaunt features and chillingly pale skin?”

“Maybe a ghoul,” she said easily, and waved her hand as though Greg should really understand.

“And the fangs?

“Overzealous goth kid,” she replied promptly, with a cheeky grin.

The corner of his mouth curled up slightly, despite himself. She was certainly persistent. “And even now, you aren’t afraid to be trapped alone in a house with a villainous scourge of the night?”

“I could bite ya back,” Gina said, running her strange tongue over her teeth. “Put up a fight. I’ve got venom.”

“I’m immortal,” Greg returned easily. He found he was enjoying himself.

Gina pouted. “Well, yeah, but ya gotta admit, it would inconvenience ya for a while.”

“You’re assuming you’d get close enough to bite me before I killed you.”

Gina laughed at him. “I dunno, I’ve got a pretty fast strike. Besides, I know we aren’t alone.” She flicked her tongue out and tasted the air. “I can smell other people.”

“Ah, yes, you must be sensing the other unfortunate monsters I’ve trapped in my diabolical lair.”

Gina laughed again. “I like you. What’s your name, stoney? Awful rude of ya not to introduce yourself proper-like.”

“I’m Greg,” Greg said.

Gina blinked and took a small step backward. “You’re Greg? Oh, uh, I didn’t realize. I thought you’d be more - sorry, this bizarre conversation makes a whole lot more sense now.” She grinned but this time it was half-hearted and a trifle nervous, and her eyes kept darting down the long, dark hall as though for reinforcements.

Greg stifled a sigh. It was hard to find good witty banter when everyone was afraid of you.

“Yes, well,” he said. “I understand Luce may have felt you were ready for the job but that doesn’t mean you’ve won me over. I’m not at all sure of your qualifications.”

“Oh yeah?” Gina said, her yellow eyes narrowing. She hitched her orange bag up higher on her shoulder. “Well let me tell you, I got qualifications comin’ outta the yin-yang. I graduated top of my class for each of my seven degrees and I helped raise a whole nest of my brothers and sisters. I hope you know snakes can lay a lotta eggs.”

“I’m familiar, yes. But I still can’t say I feel comfortable with you.”

“Why?” Gina asked. “So help me, stone face, if you say it’s ‘cause I’m half-Naga, I’ll -”

“Oh I don’t care about that,” Greg said. “I know nagas don’t have the best reputation but if you’re stupid enough to eat one of the children then I’ll simply kill you.”

“Then what?” Gina asked, her tail lashing angrily.

“You’re just so young,” Greg said. “Have you had any work experience? Taking care of these children is not going to be the same as taking care of your brothers and sisters. And what are your credentials? Did you bring a copy of your curriculum vitae? Lucian is not the best judge of character - after all, he’s friends with me - and I don’t doubt that you snake-charmed him into offering you the position. Just how old are you?”

Gina stared at him, her mouth hanging open. “That’s your objection? I’m young? You don’t even care that I’m half nasty-venom-spitting snake-lady? Fuckin’ hell, you are a piece of work, old man. You do realize that not everyone is as old as you and the buzzard, right?”

“The - buzzard?” Greg said, thoughts momentarily derailed.

“You know, big feathery guy, about yay-high?” She stood on tiptoes and used her hands to indicate a spot high above her head. “Handsome as all get out and painfully gay?”

Greg barked out a surprised laugh. “Is this how you spoke to him?”

“Pretty much,” Gina said. The grin was back.

“And how did you know he was - how did you phrase it? - ‘painfully gay’?” Oh, Greg was looking forward to teasing Luce about this later. It was even better than the time he’d heard Luce squawking out his own rendition of ‘Monster Mash’ in the shower.

“’Cause he didn’t check out my rack once!” Gina said. She sounded offended. “And I was pretty bummed because I always figured my secret weapon for getting the job would be to show a little tail.” She wiggled said tail for emphasis.

“Yes, any naga would be drooling acid over you,” Greg said wryly.

Gina paused. “It really doesn’t bother you that I’m a snake? Most people don’t like nagas too much.”

“Most people aren’t fond of vampires either. It’s truly a mystery. What does being half-naga have to do with anything?”

“C’mon,” Gina said, shaking her head. “Why do you think I wanna bust my ass helping halfies? It’s fuckin’ hard for us out there. I’ve got seven degrees to my name but I work at a greasy humburger joint and can barely manage my bills.”

“A humburger joint?”

“Where they sell humanburgers. They're made of leftover bits of the dead ones. Ghouls dig 'em up. It's not the healthiest thing you could eat but it's damn tasty.”

“Ah,” Greg said. He studied Gina with new interest. “You’re right. You understand what these children will face in a society that has not accepted halflings.”

“Yeah,” Gina said softly. Her tail curled around her leg. Just then, she did look very young. But she also looked determined.

Greg uncrossed his arms and held his hand out. “If you promise to call Luce a buzzard where I can witness it, I have no objection to you taking the position.”

Gina looked up at him, her yellow eyes dancing with mirth. “Yeah? You got yourself a deal, stone face,” she said, shaking his hand. “But why do I feel like I just made a pact with the Devil?”

Greg smiled widely, displaying his fangs. He heard the door to Luce’s office open down the hall and the sound of footsteps coming up behind him.

“Gina! You made it,” Luce said, all smiles, as he stepped up beside Greg and slung an arm around his shoulder. “I see you’ve already met our friendly greeter. I’m thinking of getting him a nametag and a vest.”

“The vest would be splattered with your blood,” Greg replied evenly.

Luce laughed. “I’ll make sure it’s a red vest.”

Gina looked back and forth between the two of them, a little furrow in her brow, before her expression cleared and she grinned again. “It’s like that, huh? Makes sense. Yeah, he was a great welcoming committee, bossman. Really put a girl at ease.”

“I’m sure he did,” Luce said wryly. “But I’m glad you came when you did. You can meet Frank and Drake, too. They’re my partners in crime.”

Frank and Drake had come up to join them as Luce spoke. Frank was the first to say hello. He shook Gina’s hand enthusiastically and said, “I’m Frank. Glad to have you on board. I hope your insurance is paid up.”

“Don’t worry,” Gina replied. “If I get hurt I’ll just sue your ass.”

“You can try to sue my ass,” Frank said. “But I gotta warn ya, he’s cheeky.”

Drake and Luce groaned in unison.

“We’re gonna be friends,” Gina said. “I can tell. Can I be frank with you?”

“I dunno,” Frank said, his eyes lighting with unholy glee. “I’m Frank. It might get confusing.”

“Oh, yeah, I know you’re frank - it’s a refreshing trait,” Gina said, her eyes dancing, “But can I be Frank, too?”

“But I thought you were Gina.”

“I’m Gina. Surely you know that?”

“Yes, of course. And -”

“ - don’t call me Shirley!” Gina and Frank said together, cackling.

“Someone stop them,” Drake said, sounding pained, “Or they will be at it for hours.”

“Yes,” Luce said. “I can see we’re going to have to separate you two.”

“Hey, it’s not my fault you guys don’t have a funny bone in your body,” Frank said. “Or should I say punny bone?”

“You can say whatever you want,” Gina put in. “You’re Frank, remember?”

Luce and Drake groaned again.

Greg’s mouth curved into an amused smile. “I think Frank has found his soulmate.”

“Mm,” Gina said. “He might do.”

Frank laughed but Drake’s expression went dark. He shot a quick glare at Greg and grabbed Frank’s arm, dragging him toward the door. “I am Drake,” he said through gritted teeth. “Regrettably, we must leave you now. It was a singular pleasure to meet you, Gina. Excuse us.”

The front door slammed behind them but Greg could still hear Frank laughing faintly before the sound was cut off suspiciously, as though his mouth were now otherwise occupied.

Gina looked amused. “Guess they’re still in the honeymoon phase, huh?”

“Something like that,” Luce said with a laugh. “I’ll take you around and give you a full tour today. You can meet the rest of our skeleton crew.”

Greg touched Luce’s arm lightly. “Careful. You know Frank is contagious.”

“Right,” Luce said, laughing. “Sorry it was such a whirlwind introduction, Gina. That’s just how things are around here.”

“I had a hundred and twelve brothers and sisters,” Gina said. “You guys aren’t so bad.”

“Meet the children and then say that,” Greg replied, sharing a look with Luce.

“Trust me, you guys. All my brothers and sisters had poisoned fangs. You learn how to dodge and duck.”

“Hm,” Greg said. “Well, the half-cupid has magical spears, the werecat has claws and vicious shedding, and the half-troll twins like to play a game where they barrel down the hall and collide with your legs headfirst.”

“What does the merkid do?” Gina asked.

“Don’t get in the water with him,” Luce said. “He’s, uh, going through his terrible twos.”

“But the baby naga you can probably handle,” Greg said. “Probably.”

“Not probably. Definitely. My parents have had five batches of kids. I can change a diaper around a tail in my sleep.”

“Really?” Luce said. “They were a couple? I didn’t think - I mean, interspecies relationships don’t usually work out. Are they still together?”

“Oh yeah,” Gina said. “And working on batch number six.”

“Your father sounds like an amorous fellow.”

“What can I say? He’s a human who likes tail - and my Ma has a tail that goes for miles.”

“On that disturbing note,” Greg said. “I’m going to find the security ghouls and debrief them.”

Gina opened her mouth, a wicked gleam entering her eyes.

“No,” Greg said, holding up a hand to forestall her. “Please do not ever suggest I wish to see a ghoul naked.”

“Don’t let Bob and Bill hear you say that,” Luce said. “You’ll hurt their feelings.”

“I’ll hurt you,” Greg grumbled as he walked away.

Gina and Luce laughed behind him.

----

It wasn’t until an hour later that Greg managed to find Luce alone in his office, going over his supply ledger. He watched Luce from the doorway for a moment, noticing the tiny furrow between the phoenix’s eyebrows and the way he murmured to himself and chewed on the end of his pen. There was a small ink stain at the corner of his mouth.

Luce looked up and spotted Greg. His expression melted into a smile. “What’s up?”

“What was that about?” Greg said.

“What was what about?” Luce replied, sounding puzzled.

“Frank and Drake.”

Luce frowned, fiddling with his pen. “Oh, that. It was nothing. Don’t worry about it. Frank just had to tell me something.”

“About what?”

“I told you, don’t worry about it,” Luce said. He looked nervous.

Greg felt like a vise was tightening around his chest. “You mean it’s none of my business.”

“No, that’s not what I meant. I -”

“If it’s about the orphanage, doesn’t it concern me? I thought my job was to help you here.”

“Dammit, Greg,” Luce said. “Can’t you leave things alone? It wasn’t about the orphanage, all right? It’s between me and them.”

“Excuse me,” Greg said stiffly. “I didn’t mean to pry into your secret, clandestine meetings.”

“Bright Lady give me strength,” Luce said, glaring up at the ceiling. “Would you drop it? There’s nothing - nothing secret going on, okay?”

The vise contracted. “Oh really?”

Luce was lying. He could smell it.

“Really,” Luce said. “I don’t have to tell you every-fucking-thing, Greg.”

Greg felt like he’d been slapped. He wanted to say, But I tell you everything. Except Luce didn’t know that - he didn’t know he was Greg’s closest friend. He didn’t know that Greg would tell Luce anything, anything at all - he just had to ask.

“No, you don’t,” Greg said. “I’m sorry for prying. I’ve got some wards to spell and then I’m going to set everything up for Bob’s party. Cake and ice cream at eight.” He turned on his heel and began to walk away.

“Greg, shit, come back here,” Luce called.

Greg looked over his shoulder. He kept his expression neutral.

“Sorry, okay? We wanted it to be a surprise.”

“What?” Greg asked, turning fully around.

“Your birthday,” Luce said sheepishly. “We’re trying to plan a surprise party, okay? So just - act surprised when it comes around or Frank and Drake’ll be pissed. Geez, I can’t keep anything from you - you’re a damn bloodhound.”

“Ah,” Greg said. “I’m sorry for ruining the surprise. I promise you, I’ll act appropriately stunned when the time comes.”

Luce’s grin was lopsided. “Okay. Are we all right?”

“Yes,” Greg said, forcing a smile onto his face. He left the room feeling furious and hurt.

Luce had still been lying.

----

Two weeks of drinking Luce’s blood. Sweet Lucifer, he wasn’t sure he could take it much longer. Every time he drank from Luce it was harder to stop; it was harder not to give into the feel of Luce’s arms around him or his blood filling him - Greg wanted to bite more, suck harder, show Luce what else a vampire could do, show him where else a vampire could bite to make him moan.

He buried his head in his hands.

He could admit to himself that he found Luce attractive. Luce was beautiful and golden. He brightened the room when he entered it; Greg felt the loss of his warmth and light keenly whenever he left it. But he also knew that there was no point in letting himself think beyond that.

It was the blood. He hadn’t fed regularly from someone in so long - not from someone he cared about - not since Arvel -

He whimpered, digging his fingers into his temples, trying to ease the ache behind his eyes. It was nothing more than forced intimacy. Luce would never want him on his own. Did he want Luce to want him? He thought the answer was probably yes.

Except Luce had made it perfectly clear that there were barriers between them, secrets he wouldn’t share. Greg was an unnecessary fourth wheel. He didn’t have a place here. Not really.

He shook his head and picked up a large spellbook, flipping it open to his bookmark. He needed to concentrate on his work. He hadn’t found any hidden trap spells for the last few weeks and that made him nervous. There was a reason for the expression ‘lull before the storm.’ He did not trust lulls.

As he flipped through the section on pixie defensive magic - quick, easy spells that were good in a pinch but not very powerful - he began to feel as though he were being watched, but every time he lifted his head from the book to look around he couldn’t find the source.

He frowned and went back to reading. The feeling persisted.

Finally, he slammed his spellbook closed in frustration and called, “Is anyone there?”

“Yeth,” answered a small voice.

Greg peered over the edge of the enormous desk. A young boy was standing on the other side, dressed in a sharp gray uniform, his head just shy of Greg’s normal line of vision. He had shiny, dark hair combed to the side and a solemn, gray face that matched the color of his clothing.

“Who are you?” Greg asked.

“Mathon, thir,” said the little boy smartly. He clicked his heels together and stood rigidly at attention, smiling cautiously up at Greg. He was missing a front tooth.

“Mathon?”

“No, Mathon,” said the little boy reprovingly. “Ith not that hard to thay.”

“Ah, Mason,” Greg said, finally catching on. The poor child had a very unfortunate lisp. He sounded like one of father’s servants from the Old Country. “That’s an interesting name.”

“Ith thort for mathonry,” the little boy explained proudly, “’Cauthe I’m a gargoyle. Rrrr.” He flexed his hands into small claws and growled.

Greg laughed, despite himself. “I see. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen a gargoyle quite so fearsome looking before.”

“I take after my father, thir,” Mason said. “He looked kind of like you.”

Greg raised his eyebrow. “Did he?”

“Yeth, thir,” Mason said. “He had a very tholemn fathe, thir. You reminded me of him jutht now.”

Greg frowned. “Well, I’m not your father. You’re the newest orphan, aren’t you?”

“Yeth,” said Mason, nodding gravely. “I like thith plathe much better. The neighborth who were taking care of me were thpider demonth and their houthe wath very thticky.”

“I’m glad you’re enjoying it here. Have you met the other children?”

“Yeth,” Mason said, his gray face darkening. “I don’t like them much, thir. They made fun of the way I talk. Anyway, gargoyleth are very tholitary monthterth.”

“Yes, you don’t often see large packs of gargoyles adorning the tops of buildings. Do come around the desk, please, I dislike craning to see you.” Greg made a mental note to give the other children a stern lecture on appreciating differences.

“Do you know much about gargoyleth, thir?” Mason asked curiously, doing as Greg asked. He stood next to Greg’s chair, his hands clasped in front of his body.

“I’m afraid not,” Greg replied. He pulled his spellbook over, pretending to read and hoping the child would take the hint that he was busy.

“Thath all right,” Mason said. “I can teach you. Ith not hard.”

Greg looked up. “Why would I care to learn about gargoyles?”

Mason blinked. His eyes were pale purple-gray. “Cauthe you’re my new Guardian.”

Greg pinched the bridge of his nose. “Why do I have a feeling that has nothing to do with watching over you in my capacity as a caregiver at the orphanage?”

“I’m not really thure what you jutht thaid, thir,” Mason said. “But a gargoyle ith thupposed to guard. Ith what we do. And we alwayth have a leader. He ith the Guardian.”

“Let me guess. Your father was this - guardian?”

“Thir,” Mason said patiently. “You’re not thaying it right again. It hath a capital letter. He wath the Guardian.”

“Right,” Greg said. “I’m afraid I already have a job. Why don’t you ask Luce to be your Guardian?”

“I couldn’t do that, thir,” Mason said reproachfully. “I’ve watched everyone here. And I watched you for hourth - you’re the only one who can be my Guardian.”

Greg sighed to himself and wondered why these children always imprinted on him. It was probably all the bad karma he’d accumulated through centuries of maiming and murder.

Hold on. “You’ve been watching me for hours? Why didn’t I see you?”

“I’m a gargoyle, thir. We’re good at thtanding thentinel. People don’t pay much attention to thtatueth.”

“To what?”

“Thtaaaatueth,” Mason repeated slowly.

Greg dug his fingers into his temple again. “And what does a Guardian have to do?”

“Nothing thpecial, thir. Teach. Guard. That thort of thing.”

“Of course,” Greg said. “Why don’t you run along and write it all down on a piece of paper so that I can study it?”

“Okay!” Mason said brightly. “Thath a thuper idea, thir! But thath why you’re in charge. Can I hug you, pleathe?”

“I thuppose,” Greg said, and caught himself. Damn child.

Mason beamed and wrapped his tiny gray arms around Greg’s waist. “Thankth. I was really thad when my parenth died.”

Greg patted Mason’s head awkwardly, his heart melting. “My mother died, too. But I don’t remember her. You’re lucky you have good memories of your parents.”

Mason looked up at Greg with shiny, worshipful eyes. “Thath thomething a true Guardian would thay.”

“Do grow out of that lisp,” Greg said weakly, detaching Mason’s arms and pushing the boy gently away. “Now run along.”

“Thorry,” Mason said guiltily as he scampered away. He stopped before he reached the door. Greg noticed that when he wasn’t moving, Mason stood as still as a statue.

“I watched you, tho I know you’re thad, thir. Don’t be thad. Everything workth out for a reathon. You’ll thee.” He gave Greg a small, tentative smile and left.

Greg realized his headache was gone.

----

Part Eighteen