Castle of Devils

What's In The Creepy House? It's a Ghost! Its a Mummy! No! It's a Trash Man!

Warnings: self hatred, talking of murdering a vampire, ghost, not eating, let me know if I missed any.

Today was the first time since Roman had gotten back that Logan, Patton, and Roman all had a free day. So, the three were going to spend a day out on the town, hitting the mall, spending time in the park, shopping, and eating their meals together. They had even promised to go with Roman to see Frozen II in the theater one last time. The day was supposed to be perfect. 

The three friends were walking along the street to get to their favorite pizza shop for lunch when it happened. A dark figure clad in purple plaid patches and white stitching walked past them on the opposite side of the road. It was pure coincidence that Roman looked up just in time to catch a glimpse of the figure's face before he moved out of sight. Roman stopped dead in his tracks, Patton and Logan nearly bumping into him. 

"Roman!" Logan shouted. 

"What's wrong?" Patton asked carefully, the fear on Roman's face an unusual expression for his friend. 

"It-its him!" Roman yelped. "I- he followed me here!"

Logan frowned and turned Roman to face him only for his friend to continue staring off into space as if looking at the last spot he saw whoever it was who frightened him so much. "Who did you see?"

"Virgil! It's him! The vampire! He's here," Roman cried out terrified. 

Logan thanked the universe there weren't many people near them. 

"Roman, breathe. You need to breathe. What do you mean he's here?" 

"I-I-" Roman paused, finally blinking as he tried to ground himself and bring himself back to the present. "I just saw him. He must have decided to move into the house I helped him purchase." Tears filled Roman's eyes. "We have to stop him. We can't let him kill anyone." 

Patton stepped forward. "Roman," he started carefully. He didn't want to tell his friend he thought he was crazy. Because he didn't, not really. Patton just didn't want to be rash. "I think we should give it a few days…" 

"A FEW DAYS??!?!?!" Roman exclaimed. "HE COULD SUCK THE TOWN DRY!" 

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose. "Roman, we can't go to the police without solid evidence. If we go up to the cops right now with nothing other than your statement and the fact that you think he's a vampire, they could carry you away in a straight jacket. If we really want to get 'rid' of him legally, we have to wait until we have a least an attack, it's not the best but without one, that's all we can do." 

Roman frowned. "What if we found a vampire hunter instead?" 

Logan sighed. "Sure, if we found a vampire hunter and got their 100% guarantee that this 'Virgil' is a vampire then we can see where we will go from there." 

Patton frowned. He knew his husband didn't believe Roman. He probably knew that Roman wouldn't be able to find a real vampire hunter willing to help them if he could find a real vampire hunter at all. And he hated the false hope it gave Roman, but if doing this could provide closure, then he was all for it so long as nobody got hurt. 

Roman bit his lip. "Okay, I'll start looking tonight." Then the three were back on their way to lunch. Now, Roman was not stupid. He knew his friends thought he was crazy. But he was going to prove it to them once and for all. And on another note, maybe it was time to pay a certain someone a visit.

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Remus Mort was an odd little fellow. He had unruly hair that never looked like it was brushed. Not that Remus actually brushed his hair. There was also a streak of white in his bangs while the rest of his hair remained a dark rich brown similar to that of a freshly disturbed grave. His mustache was particularly villianly with their handlebar shape and only added to his gremlin appearance. His clothes hardly took away from this either. They were ripped and rumpled, looking as if he had just crawled out of a dumpster. Maybe searching for new clothes, they would certainly be better than the ones he was wearing which were covered in so much grime that one could hardly call it a shirt. Rags would be more accurate. But if anyone were to ask he would reply with a grin saying no one would suspect a doctor dressed the way he was. The occupation differed each time but the result was the same. People just assumed he was happily living the life he was living even if it looked like he didn't own a home much less the amount of money he truly had.