Art Entwined In Blood

9 - Secrets

"What did he do? Why can't you talk? Can you even open your mouth?"

Frank circled Mr. Mullock as they walked back to Frank's house through the back roads. Mr. Mullock was not amused by Frank's questions, so he ignored them, hoping he would stop; he didn't, of course. Mr. Mullock stopped walking and turned to Frank with an irritable expression. A muffled shout was heard through his pursed lips, but Frank couldn't quite understand what he was saying. He lightly tapped the raging troll's mouth, releasing a continuous string of curses and swears, reunited with the air around them. Mr. Mullock, realizing he could talk, stood dumbfoundedly staring at Frank.

"H-How did ye do that?"

"I just touched your mouth, man."

"But...But how! I be practicin' fo' cent'ries to o'rcome the Ways! How did ye do it so easily?"

"I don't...know," Frank droned, trying to connect centuries to Gerard.

"Witchcraft...," he slipped under his breath. Frank looked through a light fog at the brooding mansion, seeming to scan the courtyard. His gaze dropped to his feet, dejectedly.

"There's always tomorrow."

----------

"I can't take it anymore!"

"Gerard, calm down. Don't you dare conform to the current vulgarity that humans call the English language!"

Gerard glared at the other man, starting to pace down a long corridor. The man stood in a doorway, watching him. Gerard stopped pacing to straighten a picture frame on the stone wall, then resumed walking, his velvet hood draping the maroon carpeting under his feet.

"I am not conforming!" Gerard yelled when he passed the man. "And besides, are humans really as vulgar as we say they are? Have times changed, brother? How do we know who to trust and who not to trust?"

The man looked into Gerard's eyes and growled, "We trust no one, brother."

"And that is why we must change. There is a ceremony tonight, and I sincerely hope you would join me."

"Brother, you need to sleep. It is at least high noon. Your eyes are purple."

"I have no need of your supervision!" Gerard stopped in the doorway. "I am the eldest! Do what you please, brother, but I am to do what pleases me! Go and pillage the next town over; rape and slaughter them! I have no care for them! I have no need! They are worthless to me, as is everyone other than Frank!"

"I thought his name was Frances?"

Gerard released a large breath and whispered, "He prefers to be known as Frank. I am able to grant that wish, and so I shall. Conjointly, I won't have to remember Frances Burks, now will I?"

"Yet you still have his painting," the man cooed nonchalantly, with a smirk.

"Brother, I suggest you leave now, lest you become a feast," Gerard snarled.

The man raised his arms in a guiltless surrender and sauntered toward the main staircase.

"Oh, and Michael?"

The man turned.

"Do be a gentleman and inform Madam Iero that her husband...," he paused, looking out the window, "is trying to get himself killed."

He nodded, bumped Esmerelda out of her web, and withdrew from the mansion walls.

"Filthy plunderer and his horde of Hobbits," Gerard spat, picking up Esmerelda and placing her back in her web.