Music thundered through the sand beneath your shoes and pulsed through the air in waves, making each breath you drew feel both heavy and weak at the same time.
When night came, you found yourself surrounded by a bustling crowd on the winding beach that surrounded the bright city like a belt. The night-life of Santa Carla dangerously outweighed the day-life by hundreds, even thousands of people. They rushed you on all sides — front, back, and center, in an attempt to draw closer to the tall stage that had been set up on the otherwise dark beach.
You had no idea who the musician was; a tan, sweaty, shirtless guy with a saxophone swaying on his hip. But the music wasn't half bad and you found yourself clapping and cheering along with everyone else in the audience. You never had a chance to do the crazy touristy things like this before.
The two boys standing on either side of you seemed equally as starstruck; blinking back at the bright stage lights and occasionally cupping their hands around their lips to holler at the performer. You couldn't imagine that this was any more entertaining than whatever concerts they had back in Phoenix, but their reactions still made you flush with pride.
The chorus struck up again and the crowd roared in approval. You were about to start clapping along with the beat again before you felt a short tug on the sleeve of your sweater. "Hey," Sam shouted, though it sounded like a whisper in the packed space. "This is boring. Where's that comic store?"
"Oh, I can take you," you offered, hoping that he could hear you before moving to create a path down the center of what once was a perfectly organized seating arrangement. Just as the two of you were about to disappear through the curtain of sweaty, piling bodies, you felt a hand grab out and latch onto your wrist.
Michael looked between you and his younger brother with a challenging look in his eye. "Grandpa said not to let her out of our sight."
A beat or two passed, humming in your chest and making your fingers twitch. For your first after-dark concert, you thought you were taking the scene pretty well. Sam rolled his baby blue eyes and shuffled between you and Michael, arms crossed over the cloth trench coat he had thrown on before coming out here. "So I won't. If you're so worried about her, why don't you just come too?"
"I'm fine, really," you interjected, not wanting to be the cause of any more sibling rivalry. "Sam's got me covered. You stay here."
In a flash of neon light, you saw Michael's jaw clench loosely before dropping your arm with a reluctant shrug. He nodded at his brother, whispering something that only he could hear. You made sure to offer him your brightest smile before weaving through the throngs of concert-goers with Sam following close behind.
The boardwalk wasn't as far away as the concert venue as you initially thought. It took under a minute to find the stairs that led up onto the long, wide pseudo-carnival. It was much less crowded there under the intense colored lights. But you weren't surprised. The people of Santa Carla were always prone to lingering in the dark.
There were still dozens of tourists milling about, pointing up at the tallest rollercoaster and laughing loudly in small groups here and there. You knew that Michael invited you to come along as a tour guide, but you were just as in awe of the scene as Sam was.
"Over here," you said, nudging him gently in the shoulder to grab his attention before pointing to the low-roofed storefront further down the row. There weren't half as many people on this side of the boardwalk. Not many tourists came to Santa Carla to buy comics, you supposed.
There was a broken neon sign dangling above the tin awning that read; Atlantis Fantasyworld Comics. A mouthful considering the underwhelming size. But it was fitting in that same regard. The air was hazy with a mix of stale seaspray and cigarette smoke but you were by now used to the smell. It seemed to follow you everywhere you went.
"You said you know the owners?" Sam chirped, following close behind you like a lost puppy as you stepped over the threshold and into the shop. There were roughly four other customers inside and his voice was nearly drowned out by the little radio perched on the glass check-out counter in the back corner.
His question made you laugh as you ran your index finger down the surface of the nearest display case. "I babysat for them a lot while their parents toured Cali with their hippie band. I'm practically family."
That much was true. Mr. and Mrs. Frog trusted you with their sons for days, even weeks on end. They sent paychecks through the mail along with postcards from Vegas and other random locations they traveled to. It was probably the best job you ever landed outside of the ranch.
Sam nodded, a little confused, before starting to inspect the rack of comics closest to him. It wouldn't be long until the concert ended and Michael started looking for the two of you, but that wouldn't be for another twenty minutes at least. Plenty of time to peruse.
You usually weren't one for comics, but the boys were always able to hook you up with a good grimoire when you needed one.
In the corner of your eye, you saw a quick flash of red and tilted your head just to see a familiar head of long tawny brown hair darting back behind a bookshelf. With the roll of your eyes, you straightened your posture and cleared your throat loudly. "Quit stalking, Eddie."
Not seconds after you called him out, the two boys sauntered out from behind the tall shelf and approached you and Sam with slow, thought-out footsteps. Their eyes were narrow and contemplative as they inspected you.
The taller of the two dorks was Alan. He lurked a few feet behind his younger brother, chin tilted upwards with eyes half-lidded. His darker brown hair fell neatly over his forehead, but it wasn't nearly as long as Edgar's, who needed a bandana to keep it from falling into his eyes.
"The hell are you doing out here?" Edgar, the shorter boy sneered. He meant well, but god this kid was intense. "Does the old man know you're out after dark?"
"I just so happen to have my own personal bodyguard tonight," you beamed, yanking on the collar of Sam's trenchcoat and pulling him beside you. The Frog brothers gave him a disapproving once-over before Alan clicked his tongue.
"This punk couldn't protect you for shit."
"Hey!"
"Knock it off, guys," you groaned, ignoring Sam's fake-wounded pout. "He's Mr. E's grandson so you have to play nice."
The brothers shared a secretive look before stepping back in what you could only hope was defeat. You knew they weren't going to let this go, but they respected you enough not to push your buttons.
Edgar and Alan Frog were self-proclaimed vampire hunters, but they did more identifying than hunting. That was alright with you because you didn't want them killing anyone — suspected creatures of the night or otherwise.
"Where'd you blow in from?" Edgar pressed, walking around you to square up with Sam who now looked like he wished he'd stayed with Michael on the beach. He shot you a look that said 'what's wrong with these guys?' before shrugging and smoothing down the collar of his jacket. "Phoenix."
"Well, Mr. Phoenix," Alan said, reaching behind him to grab a stray comic from the top of the counter. "If you're itching for something to read, I suggest this."
You stood on your tiptoes to glance over Sam's shoulder at what he had been handed. It was a thicker, laminated comic with a title that looked to be dripping right off of the page in vivid bloody lettering.
Vampires Everywhere!
"Not funny, Eddie," you chided, nervously chewing on the inside of your cheek as they snickered at his confused reaction. Obviously not understanding the irony behind the gesture, he flipped the book back and forth in his hand before holding it back out. "I don't like horror comics," he said, shaking it in the air to prompt Alan into taking it back.
The taller boy only shook his head, a serious look flickering in his eye despite the growing smile that tugged on the corners of his lips. "You'll like this one. It could save your life."
He's not wrong, you thought. They gave you that same book to read a few years back when you were still actively babysitting them. It was pretty accurate, aside from a few buzz words. But way too gory for your liking.
The song that had been playing on the radio fizzed out and there was a solid five seconds of complete silence. "Alright," you sighed, patting Sam's shoulder one last time before stepping out of the conversational bubble you had unintentionally created. "If you're all set here, I'll head back and make sure Michael's not dead and buried."
"Alone?"
All three of them blinked up at you, either frowning (thank you, Edgar) or glancing worriedly between you and the humming darkness just outside the open doors. You waved off their concerned stares without a second thought. "I'm fine. I know this boardwalk like the back of my own hand. Just meet us back at Mikey's bike when you're done, Sammy."
He nodded and looked back down at the book that had been offered to him.
"And you two," you snapped, sticking your head back through the door to point accusingly at the Frogs. "Don't freak him out too much."
"Yes, ma'am," Edgar replied stoically, offering you a mock salute. You saluted back, an unspoken tradition, before spinning right back around to brave the foggy blackness that seemed to have swallowed that entire half of the boardwalk while you were inside.
(A/N: I love the Frog brothers. Next chapter we meet Star and Laddie and see the ~boys~ for the first time. This feels short but also long at the same time. Don't think any major edits need to be made, but let me know if I'm wrong. Thank you guys for reading! I know this is kinda plot-heavy but once the boys get introduced it turns into a rabbit hole of sexy vampire content).