All Hail the Rat Prince
It was a beautiful night. The weather was finally breaking and the wind blowing in from the ocean was starting to have the tang of spring to it.
Charborg had managed to drag Sput out of the house with him. The two of them needed to get out. Winter may have been mild this year, but being cooped up with so many people for so long had both of them jumping at the chance to walk in the warmth and the quiet for just a little while.
It also gave Char the chance to return to the sea for a bit. Despite living here for years, the siren still wasn't used to the climate and the harsh cold of the winter seas was dangerous to him. He's been waiting forever for the chance to swim freely again. The others have done their best to make sure that he's not too restless, but that doesn't always work out. There have been a few times he was so agitated from being stuck in the house and on two legs that he sang them all away. This is normally fine, but during his most recent fit, he forgot Sput was hanging around and the guilt hit him so hard when he saw blood dripping from his dear friend's ears and nose.
This little walk is also his way of making it up to his best buddy. They haven’t had the chance to really hang out one on one in months, so a little quality time and some fresh air will do both of them a lot of good.
At least it would if both of them weren’t the biggest trouble magnets of the group.
As they’re walking on the path that will eventually take them to the beach, they both stop as they hear the sound of growling. Charborg turns away to scan the area behind him, but then a blur catches the corner of his eye and the next thing he knows, Sput’s not in his line of sight anymore.
“Char! Charborg, help! Get this crazy guy off of me!” Sput's laid out on the ground after having been tackled by what felt like a bull. Now he's got some guy with red hair pinning him down as he tries to get a bite out of him. Sput's doing okay keeping him away from his vulnerable bits, but those fangs still have his heart racing. Even just a little nick would be disastrous.
“I've got you. I'm coming Sput!” Charborg’s there as fast as he can be, shoving at the guy trying to eat his squishy human friend. “Hey. Hey, buddy, I'm guessing you're new here, but you can't do this! That's my best friend and me and a lot of not so nice people will be very mad if you eat him, so I need you to get out of here!”
Charborg's able to get one really good shove in on the guy, knocking him off of Sput and sending him rolling away. Not knowing what else to do, Char steps over Sput so he can put himself between his friend and this crazy guy.
The guy looks absolutely pissed and is hissing at both of them, his eyes red in the low light and his fangs on full display. Underneath the anger and the threatening display, Charborg can see the hunger that is seated deep behind the guy’s eyes. He’s seen it before, having watched Criken deal with starving vampires, and he can see that this one hasn’t had a meal in a while. He can’t really blame him for wanting to chow down on Sput, but that’s not going to happen if Char can help it. The only problem is that he's not confident that he can get them both out of this alive on his own. “Hey, Sput, you good, buddy? Uh, give our pal Criken a call, yeah? Tell him we have an issue related to his neck of the graveyard.”
“Yeah. Yeah. Once I can breathe again, Char.” Sput wheezes still dazed from being tackled like he was running from the cops.
Charborg turns back to their new friend. He looks like he’s planning something now, looking between the two of them with this bit of clarity that actually scares Charborg a little. If this guy can still make plans while he’s starving like this then he’s really, really dangerous.
“Hey, pal, listen to me. Don’t do anything you’re gonna regret in the morning, okay? We’ve got someone on the way who’s going to help you out. Get a nice meal in you so you don’t have to dig into my friend Sput here like a breakfast bar. Sounds good, right?” Charborg reaches out carefully, crouching down to make himself as small as possible. Starving vampires are close enough to scared animals he figures. He just has to be as non-threatening as possible.
Next thing he knows, icy fingers of death are gripping his arm and there’s pain and this guy has his teeth sunk into his wrist like a turkey leg at the renaissance fair.
“Hey!” Charborg gasps as the guy pulls away quickly, coughing and sputtering in disgust. “You can’t just go around biting people.”
“Ugh. Why do you taste like a tide pool?!”
“That’s why you shouldn’t be munching on whoever you want without asking!” Char’s arm is bleeding and it hurts like hell, but at least this guy’s talking now. He just has to make sure he doesn’t try to go after Sput again. Since he’s practically sitting on top of his friend, he can hear that he finally got ahold of Criken and their all-knowing vampire friend should be getting to them soon. Charborg just has to keep this other vamp busy until then.
“So, uh, what's your name, buddy?” He asks, trying to sound casual. This guy can probably hear how fast his heart is racing though.
“People tend to call me Tomato.”
“Aw. That's a nice name. I'm Charborg and this is my bestest buddy Sput. No eating him.”
“Whatever,” Tomato groans and Charborg watches as all the fight drains out of him. Char relaxes as he watches Tomato slump to the ground and rub his face with a sigh. “Hey, listen, I'm not usually like this. I'm just going through some shit right now and you guys were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Uh, no hard feelings. I guess.” Charborg shrugs. “You didn’t do much harm. Just scared the shit out of us.”
Tomato doesn’t say anything, instead staring off to the side, looking like he’s listening for something. How quiet he’s being makes Charborg even more uneasy. “So, uh, what brings you to our part of town?”
“Hey, not to be a dick, but can you not talk to me right now?” Tomato snaps. “It’s taking everything in me to not just rip the two of you to shreds. Just get out of here.”
“Uh... okay.” Charborg feels a little sheepish now. “We’re not going anywhere though. Our friend is going to be here soon and he’ll make sure you’re taken care of. He’s kind of a pro at helping people like us out of sticky situations.”
“Like us? What the hell do you have to do with me?” Tomato growls.
“Whoa. Easy there. Uh, I mean, probably not much, but I am a siren if that means anything to you. Not super impressive, but I can definitely relate to being out of your element.”
The scoff that Tomato gives him isn’t very reassuring, but at least he isn’t trying to devour either of them for dinner anymore
~~~~~~~~~~~
It’s only when Criken finally shows up that Charborg feels comfortable taking his eyes off of Tomato. As soon as he can focus on something else, he turns to Sput looking him over for any injuries. “You okay, buddy?”
“I’m fine. I’ll probably just have some nasty bruises tomorrow and nothing happened to set me off, so I’m good. You, though...you’re still bleeding, dude.” Sput’s giving Char nervous glances but knows his system’s reactions enough to not try to touch him. Even just a little of his blood or Tomato’s saliva ending up on his hands will leave him with a rash or hives for a week. Neither of them wants that because Sput going through a reaction is never fun.
“I’ll be okay,” Char says when he finally catches Sput’s eye. “I’m pretty hardy. I can take a bit of a beating.”
“Listen. You’re my friend - I want you to know that - but out of all the creatures and people I know, you’re the last one I would describe as “hardy”.”
~~~~~~~~~~~
Criken’s finally got Tomato to stand and he’s led him to a bench by the edge of the bridge. He has Tomato sit and seats himself a bit too close as he hands over one of the blood bags he brought from home.
“So, tell me why you’re here and obviously starving,” Criken says after Tomato gulps down half the blood bag.
“Why should I? Why do you give a fuck?” Tomato growls deep in his chest, his eyes flashing red again in the dim light.
“Easy now. I care because there’s something obviously wrong and that something has affected my friends. You’re young and coven-less and without a steady food source, so let me help you and then you can go on your merry way.” Criken doesn’t have to growl to be threatening - his whole aura oozes that he’s too old to be trifled with - and Tomato quickly quiets down, straightening up under Criken’s gaze.
The rest of the blood pack is gulped down as Tomato stalls for time. Criken’s not wrong about him starving, but he’s not going to admit that this jerk’s right.
“Coven-less. Ha! I don't know about you, but I've been just fine on my own. Plus, a mug like this isn't very good for making friends.” Tomato turns to snarl at him and Criken can finally get a good look. There are thick, black, cracked lines running up his neck and across his face. Something like that would make it impossible for him to hide in plain sight.
“Nosferatu…”
“You got it, man. I'd been doing good, staying out of sight in the sewers and making it on my own. I was doing just fine. Ten years of just fine. Then someone got word that I was sulking around and my nest got raided last week. So now I'm here.” Tomato shrugs, but takes a long drink from the second blood bag. The red of his eyes is fading to brown and he's getting some color to him, no longer resembling a sheet of paper.
“Now you’re here causing trouble in my territory.” Criken corrects him.
“Listen, man, I don’t really care what you’ve laid claim to. I was just passing through to find a quick snack and somewhere else to hole up. Not my fault ‘your territory’ is pretty much picked clean. There aren’t even any fucking rats around and I’m not going to just eat some random person’s pet. Contrary to my appearance, I’m not a monster.”
Tomato’s self-deprecating laugh makes Criken’s still heart ache for him. “Hey, that’s more than obvious. You’re better than you think you are and your control is incredible. Anyone else would have had my friends drained dry before I got here.”
“Doesn’t mean I could stop myself from taking a bite out of your one buddy. Sorry for that, by the way.”
“Lucky for you, he’s the one who will recover. If it was Sput, Char would have sung you into traffic by now.” Criken gives a humorless chuckle.
A cold shiver runs through Tomato at the thought of that. He’s never met a siren before, but he’s heard tales of what they’re capable of. Having his body and will be controlled by someone else? It makes him sick to his stomach.
“I’ll be sure never to piss him off.” Tomato finally says, trying to keep a brave air.
“Please do. Since you’ll be staying with us for a bit.”
“Excuse me? Are you holding me hostage?” Tomato’s suddenly on his feet, ready to bolt out of there.
“Whoa. Whoa. Back up a bit. I’m not holding you hostage. I’m offering you a place to stay until you figure everything out. There are a couple of spare rooms in my place. It’ll be better for you than wandering the streets causing problems for me and my family. Trust me. You need all the help you can get.” Criken gives him the softest look he’s capable of, trying to show this skittish vampire that he can be trusted, as he holds out his hand for him to take.
~~~~~~~~~
Tomato’s stiff as he sits at the kitchen table. He shouldn’t find it so funny, but Criken can’t help but be amused by how tense the other vampire is. The sounds of the other residents of the house moving around have him constantly looking around and Tomato’s face crinkles in a particular way every time he catches a hint of a new scent. He’s in very unfamiliar territory and Criken wants to make sure he remembers that. He’s taking a risk bringing this strange vampire to his coven, but he knows that they can defend themselves if need be. Wants to make sure Tomato knows that they’re close-knit and dangerous when needed.
“As long as you can behave, you’re welcome to stay here until you recover. The other vampires in the house and I have forged a lot of connections over the years and I’m sure we can find somewhere safe for you.
“Thanks, but no thanks. If it’s still alright, I’m okay with laying low here for a little while - I can pay you back for the board and blood if you can get me to a computer with an internet connection - but I need to find a new home on my own. I’m very particular about where I’m shacking up and I’m not one for covens, dude.”
As he speaks, Criken takes this opportunity to really get a good look at Tomato in the warm light of the kitchen. He has the ethereal qualities that most other vampires have: his cheeks flushed pink with his meal, his brown eyes bright and almost entrancing in the light, and the structure of his face made to be more perfect than any human’s could ever be. These traits make the curse of his sire even more jarring. The black that runs across his face like the spider webbing cracks of a shattered mirror and the too big fangs that poke out even as he sits there scowling is only enhanced by the red hair he was lucky to have and the glasses that have to be purely cosmetic. Criken can’t take his eyes off of him. Most of the other creatures he’s met are the kind who can easily hide in plain sight, but not Tomato, and Criken wants to know so much more about him.
“I don’t mind if you hang around for a little while, obviously, but you’ll have to meet the rest of the family first. Some of them can be a little territorial and I don’t want anyone upset that I brought a stray home.” Criken laughs again, his grin wide to show off his fangs.
As if on cue, the echoing sounds of yips and howls come drifting in from where the kitchen window was left open for some fresh air. Tomato gives Criken a wary, wide-eyed look as he hunches up in his chair.
“Just don’t make any sudden movements, okay?”
That’s all Criken has the chance to say before the kitchen door bursts open and three bodies come piling in. They’re loud and falling all over each other as they seem to be at the end of some kind of race. There’s a general air of contentment and family amongst these half dressed, messy men but Tomato can feel the instant that vanishes as they catch sight of him. They freeze and the next thing Tomato sees is three huge wolves gathered around Criken protectively and growling at him loud enough for him to feel it in his chest.
An amused chuckle leaves Criken as he reaches out to sink his fingers into the pitch black fur of the wolf pressed closest to him. “Easy there guys. This is Tomato. I brought him here because he needs our help.”
The small, blonde wolf is the first to shift back to being human, but he still looks just as pissed as before. “You can’t keep bringing strangers home, Criken. We’re not a rescue sanctuary.”
“Aw, that's not fair, Bed. If I remember right you brought Buck home. So you were the last one to pick up a stray.”
“Don’t drag Buck into this. We live on his land, so it’s only fair that he’s pack. I didn’t just pick him up in the middle of nowhere, because I have a weird need to baby everyone.” A deep growl rumbles in Bed’s throat, echoed by Strippin and Boon.
“Knock that off.” Criken smacks Bed’s chest, cutting his growl short.
“Hey, listen. I can just go. Just give me your info and I can pay you back for the blood.” Tomato chimes in.
“No. No. You’re staying.”
“Yeah. Get the fuck out of our house.”
Criken and Bed both turn to glare at each other as the other wolves start to stalk closer to Tomato. They’re bickering loudly with each other as the massive canines pad silently across the scuffed linoleum. Tomato glances around, knowing that there’s no way he can outrun two wolves and that he’s too weak right now to fight them off. He’s contemplating jumping up on the table to escape them when a calming melody cuts through the air. All the tension bleeds from Tomato’s body as he looks for the source of it. He sees the guy with the soft voice from the pier standing in the doorway; the sweet song coming from him. The wolves had moved quickly and are now curled up at his feet and even Criken and the other wolf have quieted down, both of them watching him intently.
The song is cut off abruptly and Tomato feels this intense need to hear more wash over him. Words are unfortunately the next thing to leave Charborg’s mouth, though. “Now that I have your attention, just what on earth is going on here? I just went to drop Sput off and I come home to y’all sounding like I just walked into the local pound covered in bacon grease. Also, glad to see you’re looking better, Tomato.”
“Criken's trying to bring some stranger into the house,” Bed's the first to chime in, his teeth bared.
“Yeah. I know that. I'm the one who found him. Jeez, get with the program, Bed.” Charborg rolls his eyes and pats the other wolves on the head. Now that things have calmed down, they shift back to being humans and Tomato can get a good look at both of them as they crowd around Charborg.
“You smell like blood. Are you okay?” The one with long, dark hair and a beard to match asks as he gently cradles Charborg’s arm to inspect the bite mark Tomato left behind.
“It’s fine. Just a little accident. It’ll heal up.”
Charborg is trying to brush him off, but the other guy with brown hair huddles in closer. “No. No. Let us see. Who hurt you, man? We'll take care of it. You know that.”
Charborg’s eyes flicker over Tomato for the barest second and he noticeably winces, hoping the wolves didn’t see. They caught it, though, just like they catch everything else, and Tomato has them growling at him again.
“What did you do?” The shorter of the two growls, his clenched teeth on full display.
“Hey. Hey! It was an accident. Wrong place at the wrong time sort of thing for all of us.” Tomato puts his hands up, tired of being snarled at and feeling like he's going to be attacked at any second.
“Boon, knock it off.” Charborg swats at the back of his head, making Boon huff. “There was a bit of a disagreement earlier, but Tomato’s harmless. Like that one really pissed off Care Bear, but with pointy teeth.”
“Sure. Sure. You say that, but look at you.” Boon insists.
“Hey. Look. I’m never taking a bite out of him again,” Tomato cuts in. “Your friend tastes like if I tried to snack on the leftovers from the docks. I’ll just stick to animals and blood bags.”
Boon rolls his eyes and stays close to Charborg. “Yeah. That’s real reassuring, man.”
“It should be,” Criken says as he saunters over to them, Bed hot on his heels and still seething. “Taste is very important to vampires. We won’t even consider drinking from sources we don’t like if we have a choice. Tomato’s situation with Charborg was life or death and, for as long as he stays here, won’t be an issue again.”
“We’re not even talking this over? You’re just deciding this is okay?” Strippin asks, concern filling his face more than anger.
“Don’t be like this. I know it’s sudden, but Tomato really needs our help. You didn’t see him earlier. It was bad. Really bad. The kind of bad that you’re all usually fine helping with.” Criken does his best to explain. “What’s gotten into all of you tonight?”
“This is different, Criken.” Strippin insists. “Cheeky? Whoops? Gmart? They were all just far from home and we stumbled upon them and offered a helping hand. This guy? What did you call him? Tomato? He attacked one of ours and you’re saying it’s fine for him to stay here? He even smells dangerous, Criken. There’s something wrong about him.”
Tomato curls in on himself in his seat. He’d much rather bolt, but both exits out of the kitchen are blocked by werewolves who really don’t like him. So he’s stuck listening to them talk about him like he isn’t there. Like he has been for the past who knows how long.
“That’s because he’s not like me or Bree or Zyke.” Criken sighs and runs his hands through his hair. “I wanted to explain this all tomorrow when everyone was together, but you guys just can’t give me that.”
“Nope. Now spill, man. We might have all day and night to argue, but you’re burning moonlight.” Boon snorts.
“Fine. Tomato is a different kind of vampire. A very special kind of vampire that I didn’t know was even around anymore. He’s what we call Nosferatu and he’s essentially cursed. Even more cursed than regular vampires.” Criken gives a long sigh, his expression mournful. “The first of his kind was vain beyond anything else, so the creator of all vampires cursed him to be hideous. Don’t take offense to this, Tomato, but everything about the Nosferatu is meant to be appalling. Of course, he smells wrong to wolves. He’s supposed to and that’s all the more reason that we need to help him. Anyone else might not be as nice.”
“Shit, man. I didn’t even know most of that. I’ve never even met anyone else like me. I’ve talked to a few others online. We have our own network, but no one really knows why we are the way we are.” Tomato is quieter than before, trying to keep the attention off of himself even though all eyes are already on him.
“I figured as much. I’ve heard that your sires are known for abandoning their charges as soon as they’re sure they’ve turned. So no one explains anything to you. Then you all have the tendency to hide away and not talk to anyone. The only reason I know any of this is because I’m old and I’ve had the time to really learn.”
“So, if the first guy knew he was cursed, why would he even bother trying to make more vampires like him if he was just going to spread the curse?” Boon asks, his whole body perked with curiosity.
“He didn’t know it would spread and, once he found out, he stopped turning anyone. His charge did not though. For some vampires, the need to make more is an unstoppable compulsion. You can reign it in, but eventually the need to create wins out.”
“Fuck, dude. That’s…” A shudder runs through Boon and the other two wolves look just as uncomfortable.
“Another one of our many curses.” Criken sighs again.
As Criken is brooding, Bed, Strippin, and Boon huddle together to talk over what they just learned. Tomato drinks moodily from the mug of blood he was given ages ago, even though it’s cold by now. He’s so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice when Charborg comes to sit with him.
“Hey. I was serious about you looking better, buddy.” Char gives him a genuine smile that eases Tomato’s tensions just a little. “You were in a rough spot back there and I’m glad we could help. The others might not seem like it, but they’ll warm up to you soon. They’re territorial and having someone new show up this close to the full moon really has them on edge. Give them a couple days and then they’ll be more willing to open up. They’re like, ya know, those flowers that only bloom when the moon’s out, but then the opposite of that.”
“Yeah. I'm sure they're exactly like that.” Tomato huffs into his mug.
“I promise that none of them will hurt you. They’re all raised fur and growls. Our resident wolves have seen too much bloodshed to be willing to spill it on our kitchen floor like nothing.” Criken’s suddenly sitting down with them, his own mug of blood clutched in his hands. “They’re more upset at me than you, but you’re new so it’s easier for them to take their anger out on you. I’m sorry for that, Tomato. Once the moon passes, they’ll calm down more and then we can have a real talk.”
Right on cue, the wolves break away from their huddle to look the three sitting at the table over. “We’ve made a decision,” Bed finally says. “We’ll let Tomato stay, but if he steps out of line or hurts anyone, you have to answer to Bree.”
“Of course.” Criken gives him a tight smile. “This isn’t my first rodeo, Bed. I know how it goes: Bree’s house, Bree’s rules.”
“I was just checking, Criken. Bree’s been gone with Trevor and Zyke for a while and it’s starting to seem like you’re forgetting that you weren’t the one left in charge.”
“I’m not in charge, Bed. You’re not either the last time I checked.”
“Pft. I know that.” Bed snorts and rolls his eyes. “So it sounds like you’re going to have a long talk with Lawlman tomorrow about what you did.”
“I’ll talk to him. Don’t you worry about it, Bed.” Criken turns away from the wolf and holds his hand out to Tomato. “Come on. The sun will be coming up soon and neither of us has the strength to still be up when that happens.”
Tomato sighs, but gets up, giving a nod of solidarity to Charborg before skirting around the wolves to follow Criken.
They pass through a living area that's dark, but smells often-used and then Criken’s guiding him up first one flight of stairs and then another. He's led down a fairly short hallway and then the door at the very end is pushed open. He's greeted by a room that bare of anything save a made bed, a nightstand, heavy blackout curtains on the window, and a dresser. It's not dusty but it's obvious that no one uses this room.
“Here you are. The bathroom is two doors down on your right. Feel free to use whatever you find in there. My room is right next door if you need anything.”
“Yeah. Thanks, Criken. You didn't need to do any of this and I'm sorry that I pissed your friends off.” Tomato awkwardly scratches at the back of his neck, way out of his element.
“Like I said, it's no trouble. Just be prepared to officially meet everyone tomorrow evening.” Criken gives a low laugh and then he's out the door. “Sweet dreams, Tomato.”
