Scarecrow

I: House of Memories

The maze that was Mortis' home was a confusing labyrinth that you need to master to get through. You were bound to get lost on the first time around, with the countless identical doors lined against the walls. You would inevitably double-check whether you thread a certain path already or you were in a new wing.

Lucky for Colt, he had traversed Mortis' home more times than his fingers could count. He could tell which wing he was in or whether he was close to the master's bedroom or the library. Ghost doors- doors that were either painted on or opened to a hallway going into nowhere- no longer tricked him.

But as much as he knew the Victorian-esque manor from the back of his hands, he was still a stranger as to what the back of the doors hid from him. He had grown accustomed to the maroon wallpaper and the dark mahogany entrances that greeted him night after night, yet he never entered any room save for the master's bedroom, the library, bathroom, and a small room dedicated for the bat. And even when he really, really, wanted to enter the room, he could not for two reasons: He had no key, and he had no approval from Mortis.

That was not the case today though.

The lock clicked and Mortis turned the rusty knob clockwise. Colt watched him open the door right in front of his eyes. Just the sound of it swinging gave him a knockback sense of thrill. Finally, he thought, he was able to see what was inside one of the elusive rooms of the manor.

The room was sparsely furnished. There was a giant round window on the opposite side of the room; the only source of light for the small, rectangular space. There were two armchairs that were waiting for sitters. Between them were two wooden side tables.

But that did not catch Colt's attention.  His eyes were darting on the left wall. Framed portraits of strangers covered the space. Some were paintings that were half his height, others were small photographs that would fit neatly in his palm. There were collages, sketches, doodles, paintings, and black and white photography of both men and women, either on their own or, rarely, with Mortis. It felt intimate, seeing Mortis and with whoever he was holding on to, smiling widely. He walked from the door all the way to the window. Mortis' face appeared less and less as he reached the other end until it was just developed pictures of the people Colt had little knowledge of.

He whistled and said, "You got quite a collection."

"I don't want to call them a collection," Mortis retorted as he brought in some boxes. "Memorabilia sounds more elegant to the ear."

They carefully pulled the larger paintings down first. Dust showered down upon them as they took down one image at a time. Over time, Mortis' face was twisting to that to sorrow as they go to newer pictures. Colt stared at the mortician's pained expression. His eyes went down and he noticed him shaking as he placed a portrait of a woman into the box.

"Mortis," Colt called for his name and, for Mortis, it felt like being woken up from a daydream.

"Mortis," Colt called him once more. "Let's have a break."

"Why not," Mortis replied, his voice showing signs of relief.

They sat on the armchairs and stared out of the window. Mortis just needed to catch his breath, and Colt just needed to wipe the dust off of him.

The sheriff touched the edge of the chair's armrest and hoisted himself back to get more comfortable. The chair squeaked. He said, "This chair is awfully old."

"It's been here since I came to this place."

"I sometimes forget you are a, what, a thousand and a half years old vampire and not just some middle-aged mortician."

Mortis chuckled. "What makes you say that?"

Colt's expressions turned blank. He suddenly felt something twisting in his chest. He tried to keep his voice from shaking. "I sometimes forget that I am not your first nor second lover."

Mortis tilted his head up. His smile wavered like Colt's. He let his eyes roll to his right so he could see Colt. The sheriff was playing with his fingers, fidgeting them between each other. He could still hear the dreadful words that slipped out of Colt's lip, like a bullet hitting him straight in the chest. This guilty feeling, that even when he could not control his situation, still crept its way into his system.

"I sometimes wish I was a mortal," Mortis confessed. "I may have not met you because I'd be dead a century ago, but at least you would be in better arms."

"I don't mean it that way, Mortis," Colt corrected. "I'm just saying that I wonder what it would have been like to be your first love, it's all. You are definitely not my first boyfriend, but you are the first person to stay for more than a month."

Mortis brought his hand forward to touch Colt. He let his cold finger trace over Colt's warmer skin. The sheriff sighed as each chilling finger made him itch more for the vampire's touch.

"You are not the first man I have loved, but you are definitely unique, Colt," Mortis whispered. He brought Colt's hand up and kissed it. Colt's breath hitched as Mortis' thin lips pressed against his knuckle and sliding down his wrist.

"Mortis, may I ask a question?" Colt shyly muttered.

"Oh?" Mortis raised a brow. "What is it?"

"How come you did not appear in a lot of the photograph?" He pointed at the newer photos where, indeed, Mortis was not visible in any of them. "Did you just decide to keep photos of your exes in all their glory or something?"

"Huh? Oh no. I just don't appear in photographs. Vampire powers, etcetera."

Mortis flashed his sharpened fangs at Colt. The sheriff just smirked. "You do not scare me, Mortis."

"I would like to test that, pretty boy." He briskly stood up from his chair and dived onto Colt's lap. Colt burst in laughter as the vampire tried to invade his neck again. But their bliss was short-lived when the first-floor doorbell rang and its bell echoed all the way to the top. Mortis groaned and fixed their clothes, buttoning up his shirt and straightening his vest.

"We can continue this later," Colt reassured before pushing Mortis off of him.

They ventured back downstairs. Mortis unlocked the front door and swang it open. The two were greeted by Bibi. Her face is covered in sweat and she is gripping on to her bat tightly. Before either Mortis or Colt asks what happened, Bibi blurted:

"Crow is missing!"