BVQA: Hey, people! I'm sorry about the wait, but besides the usual excuse that I'm in the school play and it is eating my life, I got pretty discouraged about continuing this story when I only got one review on the last chapter. However, I am not giving up for two reasons. One, I refuse to let a story die unfinished. Two, the sole review came from tearthgrrl, who is the first person who ever reviewed this story and also has left some of the nicest reviews I have yet to receive on any story. So this chapter goes out to you, tearthgrrl! You freaking ROCK!
Also: I've realized that, so far, this story doesn't look like it has a plot. It actually does. Bear with me until we get there, and I will love you forever!
Chicky: Greetings, my fellow Earthlings, and welcome to chapter four! I try to do my best to get the authoress of this wonderful story to turn out chapters in a timely fashion, but I do a pretty bad job as a cheerleader. Reviews help faaaaaaar more than I do! Anyway, you don't really get to see my comments, but they're there. Nestled in the framework. The play is now over, and we can all move on from the soul-sucking experience that is "Our Town". Anyway, why are you even still reading this? The story is why you're here, right?
*Clicks pen ominously*
BVQA: Okay, one final note. I will probably go back and do some more editing of this thing later, since chicky brought up some stuff that I should fix but that I really don't have time to get into at this moment. Okay, done! Now go, go read!
Chapter 4
Makeup
"No."
"Please?"
"I said no."
"C'mon, please Raggy?"
"No means no! Now give me my clothes back and stop calling me Raggy!"
Ragamuffin should really have thought a bit harder before leaving his shirt unsupervised in the wash. Not only did things in Lenore's mansion have a nasty habit of literally getting up and walking away, he should have known his luck better than to assume that he'd be able to sneak out of Lenore's room before the little zombie woke up. Instead, she'd risen far earlier than he'd even considered and now he was stuck doing this.
"Finders keepers. Nyah!" Lenore stuck her tongue out at Ragamuffin, managing to look even less mature than ten.
"Lenore, this isn't funny! I am not going to agree to this!" Ragamuffin seethed. How was he supposed to know that Lenore had picked up more than the stupid sunscreen yesterday? Blackmail wouldn't be a problem if she'd had nothing to blackmail him into, but now. . .
"Just put it on for one day, and then I'll tell you where your shirt is! Or would you prefer going out in public half naked?"
Ragamuffin flushed and tightened his grip on the fluffy black blanket he'd wrapped around his bare torso. The blush probably wasn't even noticeable, considering the ridiculously small amount of blood he had in his body, but he'd managed to keep his last meal down long enough that it had taken the edge off his hunger and re-enabled the little things like blushing.
God only knew that he'd be bright red if Lenore dragged him out of the house like this. Still. . .
"Lenore, I am not wearing that!"
Lenore rolled her mismatched eyes, pouting. "It's not like it's a girl shirt, Raggy."
"I was referring more to the. . . pants," if you could even call them that, "and the eyeliner."
Lenore scoffed. "Pft. It's called guy-liner, Raggy. All the guys are wearing it!"
"Lenore, when do you even see other guys?" Well, that didn't sound like something a jealous boyfriend would say at all, now did it?
"On the teevee," Lenore somehow managed to stick in lots of extra vowels where they didn't belong, just like she was trying to cram reason into her blackmail.
"Right, because Jack Spicer is absolutely the prime example of the human race," Stupid cartoon character would probably run clear to the other side of the globe if he came face-to-face with a vampire.
"Raggy," Lenore's tone was serious, snapping Ragamuffin's eyes back down from where they'd been picking apart the ceiling. "This is nonnegotiable. Put the clothes on, or you'll never see your suit again."
Ragamuffin tried to keep his lip from curling as he looked back down at the. . . outfit. . . that Lenore had apparently picked out yesterday. How she'd managed to cram it into her sleeves he would never and did not want to know. The ensemble consisted of too-small pants that were so ripped as to lead Ragamuffin to wonder how they were supposed to stay on, much less be decent, a black t-shirt with an absolutely shredded hemline and mock bloodstains, liquid 'guyliner,' and enough chunky gothic jewelry that Ragamuffin was certain he'd jingle as he walked.
"And you'll give me my suit back afterwards," Ragamuffin clarified sullenly, realizing with a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he'd lost this round. "Immediately afterwards. As in, the second it's tomorrow I get it back."
"Yup!" Lenore seemed a bit to cheerful for that to be the end of things, but for now Ragamuffin just wanted to get this nightmare over with. He scooped up the 'clothes' and started off down the hallway towards the bathroom, grumbling under his breath. Lenore, thankfully, didn't attempt to follow him. He didn't think he could have dealt with having to chase her off.
The shirt went on alright and fit relatively well, considering that it was torn off just below his rib cage and left his midriff showing. The pants were harder, mostly due to the fact that Ragamuffin kept accidentally sticking his feet through the wrong rip, but eventually he got them on and quietly marveled at how they somehow managed to stay up. Where had gravity gone?
"Oookay. . . now I've just got to deal with. . . this. . . stuff. . ."
Half the jewelry he could leave on the counter- he had no piercings and he didn't plan to add any now- but a couple obsidian bracelets and a necklace with a silver bat pendant passed by the check and were hastily thrown on. Then a thick red belt with black spikes that, upon testing, proved too dull to be used as a potential weapon, and finally a black stud choker that he figured would be reasonably difficult to get around with his teeth had it been a victim wearing it and not him.
He took a moment and stared down at the pound of metal and stone he was now wearing. The brief thought of chucking it all out the window was a pleasant one, but unfortunately it was also one that would end with Lenore probably burning his clothes.
Ragamuffin picked up the liquid eyeliner and stared at it absently. It looked vaguely reminiscent of an inkwell from his earlier years as a vampire, only the top was thinner and more tapered. The black plastic was completely opaque, but when he shook the bottle next to his ear he could hear quiet sloshing noises that told him that there was, in fact, something in it.
Now he just. . . had to figure out how to open it.
Ragamuffin squinted at the top and picked out a faint seam about a centimeter from the base of the bottle. He twisted one of his fingernails under it and tried prying it upwards, but when pain started to itch at the place where his nail and skin connected he gave up on that approach. Maybe if he. . .
No, when he yanked on the top it just slid out between his fingers like it was more slippery than air. Ragamuffin scowled and turned the bottle over and over in his hands, trying to figure out how ordinary humans could invent something this difficult to open. He was a vampire, for crying out loud, with the whole 'supernatural strength' 'fanged nightmare' package deal. . .
Fangs.
Ragamuffin lifted the eyeliner to his mouth and bit at the thinner end, keeping careful hold of the fat end with his other hand and trying to wedge one of his fangs into the crack. He twisted it and worked around his jaw, trying to crack the cap off, and after a moment he heard a particularly promising-sounding cracking noise, and-
Oh.
Ugh.
Ragamuffin yanked the eyeliner out of his mouth and spat into the sink, seeing his spit run black and tasting something foul. At least four hundred years ago makeup had been mostly minerals and crap like that- or, at least, the makeup he'd bothered noticing had been- but now it was some sort of chemical cocktail that was sour and unnatural on his tongue. Ragamuffin swiped at his mouth with the back of his hand, then tried physically wiping his tongue on a towel.
He glanced up into the mirror and saw that it now appeared as if he was wearing smudged black lipstick. Lovely. He tried scrubbing it away with the back of his hand, but to top it all off, this was the waterproof crap that was impossible to get off of your face. He'd seen girls rubbing their faces raw without even putting a dent in the black ink.
Mmm. . . raw red faces with sooo much blood running under the skin and-
Ragamuffin leaned on the faucet knob and scooped up a handful of water, splashing it into his face and blinking rapidly.
Focus.
Right.
"Ow ow ow-" Ragamuffin whined, eyes starting to tear up.
"Shuddap, you sissy!" Lenore snapped, yanking harder on the brush. In response, there was a colorful explosion of pain in Ragamuffin's scalp followed by a colorful burst of language that he barely bit back.
"Jesus, Lenore! Enough already! My hair is not going to stand straight up, alright?!"
"But-"
Ragamuffin growled and wrestled the hairbrush away from Lenore before she managed to introduce him to the miracle of hair gel. The blonde pouted, sticking out her lower lip and tilting her head in just the right way to properly flash her pale blue irises at him.
"No," Ragamuffin growled, tossing the pink plastic brush over his shoulder even as he felt his insides melting under the pressure of the cuteness. "We're done here."
"No more makeover?"
"No more makeover."
"Not even a mani-pedi?"
"Too late," Ragamuffin snarled, annoyance rekindled as he reflexively pawed at the nails of his left hand, now sporting thick, sloppy black nail polish. If this is revenge for accidentally making her brush out her dreads, I'm going to have to kill a few things. Maybe more than a few. To be honest, now that Lenore had mostly forgotten about yesterday's conversation, her hair was starting to twist back into thick curls. Looks like he hadn't damaged her self-image too badly, then. . .
The doorbell rang.
Ragamuffin had a sudden, panicky thought that the cops from yesterday had decided on a surprise visit. Lenore bounced to her feet, grinning from ear to ear, and grabbed his hand, pulling him off the bed and out through the hallway.
"Uh, Lenore, maybe we shouldn't answer-" Please don't open the door to the cops, please don't open the door to the cops. . .
"Raggy, it's my house! I say we're answering it!"
"Lenore, I'm serious," Ragamuffin dug his heels into the carpet, slowing them as much as he could. The newly added combat boots were surprisingly helpful, and although he felt as if his hand was about to shatter under the pressure of Lenore's more delicate fingers, he managed to get the pace down to a crawl. Too late. He could see the front door, large and menacing. "We're not expecting anybody, and-"
Hang on, he couldn't hear a heartbeat. That had been the first thing he'd noticed the night before, the reason he'd known the visitors were still alive, but he couldn't sense any presence whatsoever, as if there was no one-
Oh. Oh, God, please no. Not now. There was only one person Ragamuffin knew whose aura was undetectable to him, but now? Now?
His suspicions were confirmed as Lenore beamed up at him, this time with more than a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Actually, we are expecting guests."
"Not Taxidermy. Please not Taxidermy."
"I thought you liked Taxidermy," Lenore put on a scandalized air, putting her free hand on her hip while continuing to try to pull him down the hall.
The doorbell rang again.
"Lenore, I look like an idiot!" Ragamuffin snapped, exasperated.
"Now Raggy, you look very nice," And so saying, Lenore flung her arms around his shoulders, yanking downwards and toppling him off-balance enough that her next yank dragged him the remaining few yards to the door, pulling it open just as the doorbell began to ring for the third time.
If Ragamuffin didn't know better, he'd say that when Taxidermy's eyes landed on his getup for the first time, the expressionless man managed to smirk. But when he spoke, his accented voice was as calm and emotionless as ever.
"Good evening, Lenore. Ragamuffin."
"Good. . . evening to you. . . too. . ." Ragamuffin ground out, staring at the crimson carpet that he assumed was the same shade as his face. Only Lenore could manage to pull a blush out of him at this point, but he wasn't exactly giving out awards.
"I like the new look."
"Mmm," Ragamuffin refused to look up. Refused, dammit!
"The lipstick really pulls everything together. Very nice."
"Don't make me kill you."
Taxidermy made a sound that, were he a completely different person, could be interpreted as a giggle.
"Well, come on!" Lenore said happily, grabbing the. . . whatever Taxidermy was by the heavily stitched-up hand and leading him into the mansion. Ragamuffin reluctantly followed, but not before slamming the door so hard he could swear the foot-thick slab of oak started to crack.
"Manners, Ragamuffin," Taxidermy called over his shoulder, but this time the smirk had transferred itself to his voice. Ragamuffin felt his painted nails digging into the palms of his hands but he knew the layers of nail polish rendered them too dull to draw blood.
Blood. . .
"I'm gonna. . . step out for a bit," Ragamuffin mumbled, pretending he didn't know what he was saying even as he spoke. Taxidermy's head turned sharply back to him, and this time it was something midway between concern and suspicion in his voice.
"I'm sorry, what was that?"
Ragamuffin couldn't meet his eyes. "I, uh. . . I'll be right back."
"Whaaa?" Lenore gaped at him, aghast at having her fun spoiled and looking extremely let down. "But. . . but we were gonna have a tea party! Taxi, tell him! Make him stay!"
Taxi? Ragamuffin thought, then, At least I'm not the only one she makes up stupid nicknames for.
Taxidermy gave him one last long, lingering look, and Ragamuffin couldn't decide what the unease in those shining black eyes meant. Then he turned to Lenore and the worry was wiped away, replaced with a cheer that Ragamuffin couldn't even tell was fake. He breathed a sigh of relief as Taxidermy began to lead Lenore off towards the living room.
"He'll be back soon, Lenore! Until then, I've got a movie that I know you've been wanting to watch. . ."
"Is that 'Violence And Unicorns' un-rated?!" Lenore squealed. Ragamuffin caught sight of her snatching a DVD from Taxidermy's hands just as the pair rounded the corner Ragamuffin had previously been dragged through against his will.
This sucks. Ragamuffin thought, scowling at the carpet. At least he couldn't lecture me about feeding in front of Lenore.
But he really couldn't have asked for help, mainly because there was literally nothing Taxidermy could have done. Spells could only be broken by the one who cast them, or by the reversal spell. The witch was not going to be reversing anything anytime soon, except for maybe turning over in her grave now that he was back in vamp mode, and the counter spell, whatever it was, had died along with her.
Every undead had dealt with the horrific experience of having to claw their way out of the dirt, but they'd all put it behind them. Now, however, the sense of being trapped closed over Ragamuffin's head like the last shovelful of dirt at a zombie's funeral.
There's nothing I can do.
Nothing.
Sharp, high-heeled footsteps echoed down the corridor. The dark-haired woman was a stain against the whitewashed wall, clothes contrasting the purest white with the deepest black. A door somewhere behind her slammed open but the woman didn't flinch, not even when a second black-suited figure joined her side. His pace indicated that, while he wasn't hurrying, it was only for the sake of appearing professional and his flushed face showed he'd been running to catch up.
"Let me guess, there's been another one found. Young, teenage, and if not female than at least attracted to the male gender. Throat torn out, blood drained, probably dumped in an alley and all the valuables were left as they were."
The man scowled. "I hardly see why you need me if you can figure all that out on your own."
"Nonsense. I need to know where, when, and although it's less important, I'd like the gender too," she said briskly, but the assistant figured he was just annoyed enough to pick up some amusement.
He replied and tried to keep his tone neutral. "What you need is a walking case file, not an assistant."
"Don't be grumpy," she suggested.
The assistant sighed. Yup, definitely amused. "Outside a club, last night, female. . . and it was Colonel Mustard in the library with a lead pipe."
"Less sarcasm, please."
"Noted," he replied.
A small smile tugged at her lips. "Noted, but not accepted, am I right?"
"As always."
She sighed, then continued with business. "I suppose nobody has any idea how to take this one in?"
"Nobody's seen it," the assistant nearly whined, but caught himself.
The woman, on the other hand, sounded exasperated. "You don't need to see it to pinpoint its location. Anyway, that's a job for the field agents. You got anything else new?"
The man gave a heavy sigh, then collected himself and stated calmly, "Four more zombie attacks, six new werewolf infections, three requests for an exorcism- two of which were hoaxes- and a few more sightings of that ten-year-old."
This time, the woman sounded interested and not annoyed. "The dead one?"
"Of course. Still haven't figured out her haunt, though."
"Look into that. I've got a good feeling here."
The assistant rolled his eyes. "You and your feelings."
"They're the only reason that I'm a rank above you, you know."
The man tried not to sound resentful, but it didn't work so well. "Right." He turned to head back the way he'd come just as the woman reached an official-looking door leading into her office. He was stopped as she called after him, a strange tone in her voice that he'd never heard before.
Worry?
"This vampire. . . make sure it's top priority, alright? This one gives me a bad feeling."
"You and your feelings," the man said once more, but this time he didn't seem to be teasing. "Fine. Top priority it is. But I don't see how it's more important than one of the rouge zombies or werewolves. At least vampires aren't so damn infectious."
He was almost all the way back to the stairwell when he heard the quiet reply. "Something tells me that this one is going to cause even more damage than those two put together."
BVQA: See? Toldja there was a plot! Anyway, that's all I got to say here. . . please, for the love of Ragamuffin, review so I don't give up and abandon this.
*is totally lying through her teeth because she'll keep updating even if there's only one reviewer*
Once again, THANKYOUTHANKYOUTHANKYOU to tearthgrrl! You're wonderful!
