"Are you jerking off?" Ray called when the sound of Frank moaning came filtering out from underneath the bathroom door and the noise of the shower running. "You better not be jerking off, Frank, we all have to shower in there."
"I don't need to jerk off," Frank called back. "I think I'm going to spontaneously orgasm just from the sensation of soap and hot water."
Ray turned indignantly to Mikey, like he could do something about it. Mikey waved his hand. "He loves to shower, dude, what can I say?"
"Ugh." Ray went back to sorting the laundry.
Mikey stretched all his limbs out as far as he could, trying to get his hands and feet to touch the corners of the bed. Craig had offered to put them up in a hotel, but Gerard was still being weird about the money thing and bargained Brian down to the motel room. Mikey didn't care. It was a nice motel; clean and comfortable, and they all slept together every night in the van so sharing wasn't a problem. It was just so cool to be lying on an actual bed.
"We are going to need a million bucks in quarters," Ray grumbled, poking a pair of boxers into the 'Really really dirty' pile with his toe. "It'd probably be cheaper to buy new clothes."
Mikey reached up and bashed the pillow a little, settling it into the right shape under his head. "You know, I don't actually know where Gerard buys his clothes? Like, his clerics? I mean, where do you get a priest collar from?"
Ray looked up, a pair of Bob's socks held gingerly between one thumb and forefinger. "Huh. You think the Vatican provides them?"
"I don't know," Mikey shrugged. "I guess? It's not like he can just roll into Wal-Mart."
"Which is a shame, because his collars seriously haven't been white for like six months." Ray finished with the dirty clothes and came over to sit on the bed. His weight made the mattress dip and Mikey rolled towards him; Ray put a steadying hand on his hip. "You know, since we had to harvest that fungus?"
Mikey shuddered. "That shit was so gross."
"Agreed. And we'll have to do it again, soon, I'm running out," Ray said dolefully.
"You think this one's gonna be easy?" Mikey shifted onto his back again, and Ray's hand rested on his belly. "Haunted air conditioning, not exactly the stuff of epic heroics."
Ray laughed, and patted Mikey's stomach twice. "Guess we'll find out when they get back."
Brian had taken Gerard and Bob to Craig's place to do recon, after making Craig pay them half the fee in cash, upfront. Gerard had made a pained face the whole time. Mikey was actually impressed anybody could hold an expression for that long.
On cue, there was a knock on the door.
"Speak of the devil," said Ray, and got up to let the guys in.
"Hey!" Brian walked into the room, holding a giant grocery bag in his arms. "We brought food!"
"We brought cigarettes," Bob added, following him in.
"We brought coffee," Gerard said gleefully, bringing the cardboard tray straight over to the bed. "Mikey, Mikey, check it out."
Mikey sat up and took the cup Gerard gave him carefully, prizing the top off for maximum inhalation impact. It smelled sweet and hot and fresh and when Mikey took a sip, the flavor spread over his tongue and down his throat and it was seriously the best thing in the world.
"Mmm," he said.
"I know," Gerard cooed over his own cup. "It's so good."
"Okay," Frank yelled from the bathroom. "Now I'm jerking off!"
Gerard's eyes flew wide, and he looked uncertainly at Mikey, and then at Ray. "Uh."
Bob looked totally unperturbed, he just banged on the bathroom door and said, "You better rinse that shit away, motherfucker."
When Mikey came out after taking his own shower, Bob was sitting backwards in a chair, his arms folded over the back of it, head bowed. Frank was standing behind him wearing gloves and fiddling with Bob's tattoo gun. He waved it at Mikey when he saw him.
"Check it out," he said, grinning. "Bob's virgin skin is about to be well and truly debauched."
"I'm going to regret this," Bob grumbled. "I can already tell."
Ray was hunched over the table, adding ingredients to a shallow dish in tiny measurements. Gerard was standing next to him holding a vial of Holy Water. "Mikey, you ready?"
Mikey went to Frank and got the ink tube, then carried it over to Ray.
"Okay," Ray said, giving the mixture in the dish a final swirl. He held it out to Gerard, who added some Holy Water, murmuring as he did so. Ray looked up at Mikey. "Just like last time, okay?"
"Okay," said Mikey, holding out the tube.
Ray poured the mixture into the ink tube, while Gerard made the sign of the cross over it.
"Cingi aversabilis malus," he said. "Munimen abusque veneficium. Amen."
"Amen," Mikey and Ray said together. The mixture in the ink tube felt warm against Mikey's palms, for a second, and Mikey flinched a little in case it was going to come bubbling out of the top like the first time they tried it, but then it settled down.
Gerard smiled. "Nice work, guys. I think we really have this down."
"Maybe that's what we can do for a living," Brian said. He was counting money on the bed. "Magical tattoos."
Bob had done everyone else's tattoo himself. Ray's was on the inside of his arm, Mikey's on the inside of his wrist, Frank's on his hand, between his thumb and forefinger, and Brian's was on the back of his shoulder. It was a pretty simple design, an upside-down triangle overlaid with what Mikey thought looked like the Mitsubishi logo, but Ray and Gerard didn't like it if you pointed that out. It did, though, three black diamond-shapes joined together at the center. The top one had a cross in the middle, and the whole thing was surrounded by a circle.
Gerard had found the symbol during one of their assignments, but it was Frank's idea to get it tattooed. Originally, Bob said he wouldn't get one himself, but then he almost died because he got too close to one of Ray's exploding spells, and Brian made him promise he'd get inked as soon as possible. Bob had pointed out that a protection spell probably couldn't do much in the face of getting blown up, but Brian had made this one face he did that was exactly midway between worried and pissed off, and eventually Bob had agreed.
"Don't fuck this up," he was grumbling at Frank now, while Frank snapped the ink tube into the gun. "I mean it, Iero, I'm trusting you here."
"I'm not going to fuck up!" Frank said, making a hurt face. "Why would you automatically assume I'm going to fuck up?"
"He's not going to fuck up," Mikey said.
"You better not fuck up," Ray said anxiously, coming over to hover next to Bob's chair. "The spell's pretty delicate, Frankie, and it's powerful, if you get the symbol wrong, it could be a disaster."
"I'm not going to get the symbol wrong! I have done this before, you know."
"Not by yourself," said Gerard.
"I'm not by myself now," Frank pointed out. "I got the world's bitchiest canvas to keep me company, and fucking Raybledore hanging over my shoulder."
"Stop distracting him, Ray," said Brian from the bed. "Do Mikey's hair or something."
"Oh, do my hair," Mikey agreed, grabbing Ray's hand and pulling him over to the dressing table. "It's been, like, forever."
"What if we have to fight later, it'll be ruined," Ray said, but he ran his hands speculatively through Mikey's wet hair anyway, frowning at him in the mirror.
Mikey sighed. He loved having his hair done. When he was rich and famous he was going to pay someone to do his hair every day. Well, probably he would just get Ray to do it, still. "You can do it again after."
"Oh, thank you, what an opportunity," Ray said. Mikey grinned at him in the mirror and Ray laughed. "Fine, fine. Let's see what we can do."
Across the room, the buzz of the tattoo needle started up. Frank frowned when he was concentrating, and he did this thing where he stuck the tip of his tongue out the corner of his mouth. Once Mikey bet him that he couldn't paint his nails neatly without doing the tongue thing. Frank made a total mess, and Mikey made five bucks. It was awesome.
Frank set his free hand against the back of Bob's head, and lifted the needle. "Okay," he said, and he only sounded a little nervous. "Here we go."
"You got it, Frank," Bob said, bowing his head. "Just take it slow."
It was interesting, Mikey thought, watching Frank work. He was completely still except for his hands moving, and even the one holding the gun was almost motionless, moving in tiny, even strokes.
"These things are so crappy," Ray grumbled, shaking out the cord of the motel blow-dryer. "I could dry your hair faster by blowing on it myself."
He still fired it up, though, and Mikey closed his eyes, letting Ray tilt his head this way and that as he worked. It was awesome that Ray had found his calling as an herbal magic guy or whatever, but Mikey missed having his hair done every morning. Back when they worked in the shop it was like no matter how hung over he was, how worried he was about Frank's latest health crisis, or how much he missed his brother, he always felt better after twenty minutes in Ray's chair.
It was the same now, he could feel all the tension draining out of him, it was even better than the shower. Ray never made you feel like you'd wronged him terribly in a former life and now he was going to use his comb to take your ears as punishment, and Mikey never got flat-iron burns the way he did when he straightened his own hair. It was the most relaxing thing in the world.
"All right," Frank said a while later, wiping Bob's skin over one last time. "Moment of truth."
They all trooped into the bathroom after Bob, and Brian held up a hand mirror so Bob could check himself out in the reflection. It felt like everyone was holding their breath while Bob looked, frowning and turning the mirror from side to side. Frank was practically vibrating next to Mikey, chewing his lip.
"Hmm," said Bob eventually. "Nice job."
Frank went, "Fuck yeah!" and high-fived Bob before grabbing Mikey and tackling him all the way across the room and onto the bed. "In your face!" he crowed, even though Mikey never said he was going to mess it up.
"Your aftercare sucks," Bob said, coming out of the bathroom. "You didn't even wrap it up."
Frank waved him off, stretching out on the bed. "That's Toro's thing."
Ray went and got the tub of ointment he'd made out of his bag, and motioned for Bob to come over. "There's enough left for you. I'll have to make some more for when you get yours, Gerard."
"Never gonna happen," Gerard said, skirting quickly past the chair with the needles on it.
Brian made a face. "You can't be more afraid of needles than you are of dying."
"That argument doesn't hold water," Gerard settled on the bed with Frank and Mikey. He handed Mikey a book, and set another one on Frank's belly, making him go 'oof' and curl up. "If you stick a needle in me, I will die."
"What about if you need a shot, like, from a doctor?" Frank grabbed the book and pulled himself to sit up. "What happens then?"
Mikey laughed. "Oh my God, it's hilarious. He has to lie down and the doctor has to do special breathing with him."
"Shut up," Gerard said, smiling.
"In through the nose, out through the mouth," Mikey said in a high-pitched voice. "The nurses have to hold his hand."
Frank laughed, opening his cigarettes. He stuck one in his mouth. "Do you get a sucker after, too?"
"Sometimes," Gerard said, opening another book. He gave Frank a sly look from under his hair. "It depends on the nurse."
Frank choked on the first inhale, flailing his hands around until Mikey rescued his cigarette and Frank could curl up properly, coughing deeply between ragged intakes of air.
Gerard went bright red, and ducked his head, hastily going back to the book on his knees. "Sorry."
"Look, if we're all finished trying to kill each other, maybe we should get to work." Brian knelt down by the bed and unrolled a giant piece of paper on top of the covers. "These are the blueprints for Craig's place."
"Who actually has blueprints?" Ray marveled. Mikey watched him securing the wrappings over the back of Bob's neck. "Is that a normal thing for someone to have lying around?"
"I think he keeps them in the safe with all his diamonds," Bob said, waiting for Ray to finish and then pulling the chair up to sit by the bed. "You should see his place, guys, it's like something off MTV. You think he's a millionaire?"
Brian shook his head. "Billionaire, dude. He was in Forbes."
Gerard made a worried noise. "Just because he's rich doesn't mean we should be taking his money to help him."
"You've gotta get over this," Brian said. "It's not an official assignment, the guy's life isn't in danger, here. Think of it as freelancing. Now, what do we know about this situation?"
"Craig described unexplained noises, sudden drops in temperature, guests feeling extremely uneasy in certain areas of the house. I definitely felt a presence when we were there, strongest in the guest quarters." Gerard frowned at the blueprints. "I don't know where that is on here."
"Right here," Bob tapped his finger against the paper. "The rest of the house was warm, but there was ice formed around this one vent. Craig thought it was a faulty system at first, but he's had a whole platoon of engineers out, and nobody can help him."
"So this guy really does have a haunted air conditioning system?" Frank shook his head. "Man, you think you've seen it all."
Gerard took his rosary beads out of his pocket and wound them around his hand, catching one between his thumb and forefinger. "I don't think it's technically the air conditioning. The house was built on-"
"If you say an ancient Incan burial ground, I am out of here," Mikey interrupted.
"-top of the site of the original house," Gerard went on, rolling his eyes. "So the basic footprint is the same, but the internal structure is different. The soul, or whatever it is, probably doesn't know it's in the air conditioning. It probably thinks it's in a bedroom or something."
"The soul," Ray repeated. "So, it's trapped here? Why?"
"We don't know," Brian said. "Maybe nobody said the Last Rites over them."
"We don't call it that anymore," Gerard corrected him. "It's the Anointing of the Sick now."
Frank looked up. "Wait...if nobody says the Last Rites over you, you don't get into Heaven? What if you don't die anywhere that there's a priest?"
"It's the Anointing of the Sick," Gerard repeated. The beads rattled as he moved onto the next one. "And if a devout person dies without confessing their sins and having their soul purified before death, they go to Purgatory and they can be purified there."
Brian frowned. "I thought it was Limbo."
"No, that's unbaptized infants," Gerard said absently, and then jumped when Frank made an angry noise. "What's the matter?"
Frank was staring at him, his hands resting in fists on his knees. When he spoke, his voice was low and tight. "Unbaptized babies don't go to Heaven?"
"What?" Gerard said, startled. "No – Frank, of course they do. It's an incredibly old theological hypothesis based on the concept of original sin, it's not official doctrine."
"Who the fuck would theorize about dead babies going to Hell?" Frank snapped.
"Well, Saint Augustine taught that the only salvation from original sin was baptism, so unbaptized infants would go to Hell, and Limbo was one of the counter-theories," Gerard started, but then Frank made another noise and Gerard held his hands out, palms up, hurrying to add, "Look, it was a long time ago and it's not true anyway. Frank - Frank, listen to me, the Catechism quotes Christ as saying 'Let the children come to me, do not hinder them', and states that we can trust God with the souls of children who die unbaptized."
Frank seemed like he didn't believe Gerard, which was totally weird, because Gerard never lied. His jaw worked a bit and his eyebrow twitched the way it always did when he was picking a fight. "So they go to Heaven?"
"Of course they do, of course," Gerard said, resting his fingertips against Frank's knees. "The Pope has a whole commission dedicated to making the doctrine more compassionate, and even if he didn't, it's not like Catholic dogma is the last word on the fates of our immortal souls. God's the only one who could decide something like that, and I don't believe a God who is loving and merciful would send babies to Hell."
Frank looked at Mikey. Mikey nudged his knee. "You don't even believe in Heaven, dude."
"Not a Heaven babies can't get into, I don't," Frank said hotly. Gerard looked totally heartbroken, though, and Frank softened minutely when he looked back at him. "All right, fine. You say they go to Heaven, I'll believe you."
Gerard smiled. "Good."
Mikey saw Ray and Brian exchanging relieved glances out the corner of his eye. Frank's anti-Church outbursts had been getting more and more regular lately; anything he could pick on, he did. It was sort of annoying. Mikey didn't know why Frank kept being surprised that the Church had batshit crazy policies sometimes. It wasn't like it was a secret.
"So according to the Church, a Catholic who dies without the Anointing thing goes to Purgatory, right?" Bob waited for Gerard to nod, then went on, "So why wouldn't this ghost or whatever go there?"
Gerard shrugged. "Maybe they felt their earthly life wasn't over without the Sacrament, I don't know."
"What if they weren't even Catholic?" Mikey said.
"We need to find that out," Brian nodded. "There's a public records office not too far from here. Father, you'll go and check that out?"
Gerard nodded. "Ray, you wanna come with me? I thought you might need to pick up some ingredients."
"Yeah, definitely." Ray went over to his bag and started poking through it. "Lemme just make a list."
"Me and Bob'll go back to the house and try to figure out how we can get to...whatever it is." Brian stood up, rolling the blueprints back up again. "I think we want to avoid knocking Craig's walls down if it's at all possible."
"What should we do?" Frank said.
"You rest," Gerard said firmly.
Frank said, "Ugh," and flopped back down against the pillows, scowling.
"Mikey, you make sure he does," Brian added. Mikey gave him the thumbs up.
Ray stood up, holding a piece of paper in his hand. "Okay, ready when you are."
"Let's go." Gerard unwrapped his rosary and started to put it back in his pocket, but then Frank stuck his hand out and Gerard handed it over to him, instead. "We'll be back soon, guys. Don't do any experiments with Ray's herbs."
"That was one time," Mikey said.
Ray tugged on Mikey's hair as he passed. "See you later."
"We'll be here," Frank said glumly, watching them all troop out of the room. "Doing nothing."
Mikey wriggled up to lie next to him on the bed. "Gee's right, Frank. You should probably sleep or something."
"I don't want to," Frank said stubbornly. "God, this sucks. I hate being sick."
"I know. You might not get really sick this time if you can rest, though." Mikey watched Frank's fingers moving on Gerard's rosary beads. "You could probably buy your own, you know."
Frank shrugged. "I like this one."
"Yeah."
Mikey turned the TV on, low, just the local news, nothing interesting. There was an item about the fire service, another one about a dog getting rescued from a drain. Mikey turned to Frank at that one, but Frank was already gone, eyes closed and mouth open, the rosary beads still clasped loosely in his fist. He already looked better for having eaten and showered and shaved, but he still had deep purple shadows under his eyes. Mikey put the TV on mute for a second, and listened to Frank's breathing. It was deep and steady, no rattle in his chest.
Mikey turned the sound back on, keeping it down to a hum. There was an item about a show, hundreds of kids lined up outside a venue in the rain, all wearing big smiles and disposable ponchos and, as far as Mikey could tell, identical haircuts. Mikey didn't hear the name of the band, but he recognized Pete Wentz when they showed a picture of him, smiling in a suit at some event.
When they ran a few seconds of concert footage, Mikey felt like he'd been punched in the gut. He grabbed for the remote, only to realize you couldn't rewind regular TV, cursed, and pushed himself up to scramble off the bed and get closer to the screen. There was nothing out of the ordinary happening, the band were just playing, lights flashing, like a normal show, but Mikey had the weirdest feeling washing through him, an urgent pulse under his skin, like he had to say something or do something, like something really bad was going to happen and Mikey was the only one who knew about it.
The item finished and the newscaster's wide, lipsticky smile filled the screen again. Mikey sat on the floor, back against the bed, and felt the bad feeling disappear, fading rapidly with every second. By the time the closing credits came up, it was like it had never happened.
"Weird," said Mikey. He pulled himself back onto the bed, and thought about waking Frank up to tell him about it. Frank really needed to sleep, though, if they were going to be fighting later.
Mikey settled next to him instead. He thought about calling his Mom, and then he thought about repacking all his shit, and then he fell asleep before he could do any of it. He didn't dream of anything, and the next thing he knew was someone shaking his shoulder, and waking up to find Gerard's eyes blinking right in Mikey's face.
"Rise and shine, sleeping beauties," Bob was saying, jostling Frank awake with his knee. "Time to go to work."