Dr. Morbid's Castle of Blood (Masks)

by Hayden Thorne

  “You also need to have it fixed.”

  I shrugged. “Okay.”

  “And then you’ve got food and litter sand and all the usual daily maintenance. You got enough cash in the bank for that?”

  “Mom, I’m still working. Even if I run out of money, I can borrow a little from you and Dad, and I’ll pay you back when my next paycheck comes.” I stroked the cat’s fur. “And the cat’s name is Grimm, and we should start referring to it as ‘he’ or ‘him’.” To prove my point, I picked up Grimm, turned him over, and flashed my mom with kitty balls.

  She pursed her lips, kept her eyes narrowed at me, and her arms still crossed on her chest. “I’ll have to talk it over with your father,” she said after a moment’s pause. “Don’t worry, we’ll give you a decision over dinner.”

  I grimaced. “That’s hardly fair,” I said. “Shouldn’t he at least see Grimm first and hear my side?”

  “Your side’s pretty straightforward, honey, but the main concern here involves practical matters like vet bills and food and all that. If we agree to your request, the responsibility’s completely on your shoulders. No one else’s. We’re not picking up after him, we’re not feeding him, and we’re not taking him to the vet. We can help you, but you’ll have to do everything. Understand?”

  I sighed, nodding. “Okay, fine. I’ll wait. And, yeah, I already know what I’m supposed to do to be a cat dad. I Googled all the stuff while I was waiting for you to come home. I’m not that clueless, Mom.”

  The front door, which was down the hallway directly in front of the stairs, slammed shut. “Wha—is that a cat? We have a pet? Yay!”

  Before I knew what was happening, Mom had to step aside before getting run over, and Liz appeared, all wide-eyed and happy, her arms stretched out, and her hands greedily swiping away at Grimm while I held him tightly against my chest.

  “Kitty! Kitty! I love cats! Can I carry him? Her? It?”

  I never thought I’d live to see the day when my older sister would regress to a five-year-old. Then again, I never thought I’d live to see the day when my dad would literally turn into an adult-talking toddler, and look what happened when the Debutantes decided to run the show last time.

  I let Liz take Grimm, who stayed kind of blasé about everything. Considering how loud his purring was—yep, he actually purred the whole time—one would think that he really got off on being the center of attention. Liz squeed and cooed and gave out all kinds of gross noises when she held Grimm. I suppose that’d have to count for the first step in her traumatizing my cat with girlie behavioral things.

  “Are we keeping it?”

  “Him,” I said. “It’s a boy.”

  Liz turned to Mom, all starry-eyed and glowing. Mom stared at her, sending out Weirded Out Mom Vibes. “I just told your brother that your father and I will have to talk it over.”

  “But me and Eric have never had a pet since we were kids,” Liz said. “Well, we almost did, but that poor puppy died, remember? It wouldn’t hurt, would it? I mean, cats are pretty independent, anyway, and are also low maintenance. If it were a dog, there’d be a lot more involved in keeping it, right? I wouldn’t mind having a dog, though.”

  “Careful, Liz, he’s got fleas,” I said when she tried to let Grimm climb over her shoulder and perch himself that way. She giggled like crazy.

  “No worries. One of Scanlon’s older sisters is a vet tech. I can take him over to Scanlon’s and get him washed, and I need to take a shower and do my laundry, anyway.”

  “Ew. Scanlon needs help washing?” There went my appetite for dinner.

  Liz snorted and made a face at me. “I’m talking about the damn cat,” she retorted and then turned to Mom again, who watched and listened the whole time, and I could tell that she was starting to waver. “See, Mom? I can take care of the cat’s bath right this moment if you’ll let me. That’d be one less thing to worry about.”

  “See?” I piped up. “Even Liz is willing to help out. And I’ll be taking care of everything else. Wouldn’t that be a sign of maturity from me? I mean, agreeing to share something with Liz?”

  Mom shook her head and raised a hand while Liz and I started talking at the same time, arguing our case in loud voices. I barely even noted the sound of the front door being shoved open with force and then being closed with equal force. “Calm down, you two. I said your father and I still have to talk things over. Just because the flea issue’s going to be dealt with tonight, it doesn’t mean that—”

  “Wha—it’s a cat! We have a pet! Took us long enough for this!” Dad cried out from the doorway. Before I knew what was happening, Dad appeared next to Mom, all wide-eyed and grinning and still in his hat and coat, his brief case dangling from his hand. “Here, kitty, kitty, kitty!” he cooed, reaching out his free hand and rubbing Grimm’s chin while Grimm balanced himself on Liz’s shoulder. “Finally—real, live, low-maintenance, and cheap therapy for me.” He looked at me and Liz. “You two know that keeping pets means a longer life span and low blood pressure, right?” Then he swept his gaze across, making sure we were all listening to him. “And I’ve got dibs on the lap cat thing for the first hour after I come home from work. Consider 5:30 to 6:30 blocked off on your daily calendars.”

  “Wow,” I said, stunned. “Dad, had we known how desperate you are for natural therapy, we’d have gone out and adopted a cat or a dog a long time ago.” All this time spent wishing we had a pet, so I could sneak off unwanted dinner and feed it to the animal—all this time wasted for no good reason? Oh, right—Mom. Pfft.

  Mom looked like aliens had just invaded her household. She stared at Dad (who totally ignored her while cooing) and then Liz and then me, her mouth hanging open and her eyebrows all scrunched up. I took advantage of that moment of complete mental rattling and smiled sweetly at her. I didn’t even need to use my dimples. It was like that wall in Jericho collapsing.

  “Look, Mom, he wants to be with you,” Liz said, still giggling, and she plucked Grimm off her shoulder and dangled him in front of Mom. Dad continued to babble like a drunk baby, this time scratching behind Grimm’s ears. I continued to give her my most saccharine smile, and then Grimm let out a tiny little “Meow!”

  And—touchdown.

  Mom sighed, took Grimm, and made like a linebacker, shoving everyone away and then disappearing in the kitchen. I heard the jangle of her keys, and then she reappeared, Grimm pressed against her chest, her purse dangling from her elbow. She gave us all a nod.

  “I’m off to the vet, and it’s everyone’s fault that I’m doing this,” she said. “Liz, come with me, and help me buy food and litter stuff. Eric, order pizza for dinner tonight.”

  * * * *

  As it turned out, leftover human food wasn’t a good thing for pets, so I’d still be stuck whenever meatloaf was served. I guess I’d have to be very sneaky and very creative in getting rid of that Log of Pure Evil and not subject Grimm to its major nastiness and reduce his life span in the worst way possible.

  Mom and Liz came home afterward, carrying a squeaky-clean Grimm in his brand spankin’ new kitty carrier, along with cans of cat food, a litter box, and sand. Apparently Grimm wasn’t supposed to eat for the rest of the night because Mom was going to drop him off to the vet the next morning for neutering. Ow. At least he was washed and de-flead.

  Dad made good his demands for lap cat time, but at least he finished dinner first before disappearing with Grimm. After eating, I saw him in the living room, his feet propped up, watching TV, and having his lap warmed by a dozing cat. He stroked Grimm’s back almost absent-mindedly, and the glazed look of joy he had while watching TV was…

  Okay, it was downright freakin’ creepy. I guess he was getting his therapy right there, so I shouldn’t complain. Maybe—just maybe—I could play the Grimm card right, and my parents wouldn’t think about grounding me for the smallest thing. Yep. Time to train that cat to be my most formidable weapon against parental persecution. My dimples needed backup ammo, anyway. />
  Since I had the only solo bathroom in the house (score!), while Liz and my parents shared the main one, Grimm’s litter box and sand had to go to my attic room with me. Besides, there wasn’t any room downstairs, since we only had the combo dining-room-kitchen in one place and the living room across the hallway from it. I did feel kind of bad that Grimm would have to run like hell to the third floor to poop and pee, but I figured I should buy a little bed for him to keep upstairs, so he didn’t have to wander too far. Then again, if he couldn’t hold it in any more, he’d have to go do his thing in Liz’s room, and I’d forgive him for not making it all the way to the attic.

  Or whatever. I didn’t know how cats operated, seeing as how we’d never had one till now, so I guess it was all trial and error for me.

  The only thing was that I hoped Grimm wasn’t in the habit of watching people whack off because that’d be totally weird and unnerving.

  Chapter 5

  I never thought I’d live to see the day when the heroes were actually given time off. I mean, literally. With Vintage City’s crime rate plunging—for now, anyway, until a supervillain decided to liven things up a bit—the mayor’s office and police department had agreed that the regular roster of cops should be able to handle things without the heroes’ help. So far the only reported incidents had been an occasional missing person, which Sgt. Bone and his uniformed minions could deal with.

  “Thank God for that,” Wade said as she dipped her onion rings in catsup. “I was so bored the past week that I spent half the time playing around with nail polish on the rooftop of the Emporium Grande.”

  “Yeah, I can tell,” Peter said, nodding, and Wade grinned, raising a hand and flashing us her multi-colored nails. Each finger had a different nail color—blue for the thumb, hot pink for the index finger, lime green for the middle finger, blood red for the ring finger, and neon orange for the pinkie finger.

  If Wade was in tight-tight spandex as Miss Pyro then, I couldn’t wrap my brain around the mechanics behind her being able to bring five different bottles of nail polish along with her. Like, where the hell would she store them? Of course, had I been a straight boy, I’d be mulling over this point and giving myself some major, major material for an evening of awesome Mr. Happy time. As a gay boy? I didn’t get it.

  “How’d you get them to dry so fast, with you wearing gloves and all that?” Ridley asked, frowning.

  “Oh, I just used my powers on my nails and blew a really, really, really toned down fire ball. If anything, it was more like a ball of warm, dry air.” Wade turned to Althea. “Hey, Althea, if you’re interested in a manicure, I can do that for you in, like, record time.”

  “I wonder if the Sentries would be interested in knowing all the practical applications of our powers,” Peter mused.

  “As far as I’m concerned, you’ve got a gazillion and one ways of applying your strength and hyper speed in practical matters,” I muttered, leaning against him. I kept my eyes looking straight ahead, but I could feel the heat oozing out of him after I spoke. Revenge is sweet.

  “I just terrorized a dude with his computer by talking to him in the middle of his watching porn,” Althea said in between sips of her soda. “I’d have left him alone if I didn’t recognize him for that homophobic schmuck who works at the same pharmacy as my mom, and he was getting off on lesbian action. I think I might’ve sent him to the hospital since I got him in the middle of toy play or something. Whatever homophobic guys use to abuse themselves with because they don’t have a woman to do it for them.”

  I grimaced as I stared at my turkey burger. Althea knew how to ruin my afternoon junk food time.

  “Me and Freddie watched a marathon of his old, cheesy monster films,” Ridley said, all beaming. Beside him, Freddie nodded while stuffing his face with cheese fries. “I think we should check out the Elms Theater and see what cool B-movie they’re showing. I have a new addiction now.”

  Considering how he was the last to join the superhero ranks and started out defensive and shy because of all the crap he’d been putting up with as an overweight kid, it was nice seeing him relax and get along with new friends. He was still a little shy around everyone, but I think all that extra time outside superhero work—playing video games with Wade, hanging out with Freddie—was working its magic on him. He was also still pretty tight-lipped about his family life, but it wasn’t anyone’s business, anyway, and as long as he wasn’t being picked on for his weight, I was fine with being kept in the dark.

  “I’ve been messing around with art,” Peter said, shrugging, as he dumped the rest of his fries on his tray. “It’s been a while since I last did something like that on my own, and it was awesome.”

  I gave him a nudge with my elbow. “Don’t tell me—Trent is still Magnifiman during all this down time, working out in the gym or upgrading all the computers in your little hideaway at home, so that superhero work will be way more efficient next time you guys are needed.”

  Peter looked at me, for a moment as though he were offended. Then he shrugged again, this time giving me a loopy little smile. “Yeah, I can’t lie my way out of that one. Trent’s always in Type A Personality mode, so there’s no fun in his break from crime fighting.”

  “I must admit, I’ve been tempted to start a petty crime wave just to piss off Magnifiman.”

  Peter narrowed his eyes at me.

  “Just kidding! Man, this is great,” I said, sitting back and looking around. I was surrounded by a group of superheroes in civilian mode, and we were all hanging out at the local burger joint like normal teenagers. And this would have to be the first time ever since they all came into their powers that we’d be chilling and eating while not talking in code or whatever regarding current supervillain mayhem.

  I mean, God, we were talking-talking! I guess if boredom coming from a quiet city also meant having a group of regular friends to talk to while things lasted that way, I sure as hell wouldn’t complain.

  “By the way, Eric,” Peter said, breaking up my thoughts. “You don’t have to buy me a video game for my birthday.”

  I stared at him, blinking. Then my head whipped around till I was glaring at Althea, who gave me this really bad interpretation of a Cheshire Cat grin because it was totally obvious who was at fault and whose ass was begging to be kicked.

  “Althea!”

  “Sorry. Damn Peter caught me asking around for that Dr. Morbid video game in school,” she said, still faux-grinning. “If it’s any comfort, I found a source after a couple of days of bugging people, and he actually lent me the game. Oh, and I met Trini, who also heard me ask around, and she says the game sounds cool.”

  Ridley rolled his eyes. “It’s not like Althea was being subtle about it, either. Anyway, since we’re all pretty much free from hero work, maybe we should try out the game with Althea enhancing it.”

  I went from plain outraged to outraged and confused. “You found someone? Who? I thought you didn’t have a social circle in Renaissance High.”

  “Oh, bite me,” Althea snapped. “It’s someone from Chemistry—a new kid. I don’t know him much, but he seems cool. Well, kind of distant and cold, but he talked to me. His name’s Justin O’Keefe. I think Peter knows him…”

  “Sort of,” Peter replied. “He’s in my Computer Technology class. He’s not bad—though he did creep me out when he zeroed in on me on his first day there. Like he knew me from somewhere, but I’ve never met him before.”

  “You mean he just came up to you and started chatting you up?” I asked, and Peter nodded his head slowly, as though he weren’t sure about his answer.

  “Pretty much. He was, like, sitting at one end of the lab, and when I went in, I saw that he was watching the door.” Peter paused and shrugged, chuckling. “Not sure what to make of that, but it felt like he was waiting specifically for me.”

  “Yeah, but why? It’s not like he threatened you or anything, right?” Althea prodded. “He didn’t do that with me. I think he just overheard me ta
lk about the game and ask some people about it.”

  “No, he didn’t threaten me. He was friendly when we talked—a bit distant like you said, but he wasn’t rude or intimidating once you get him started. And we talked about the usual stuff, like classes and what to check out around here—even hinted at the GSA that Trini and I are trying to get off the ground. Don’t know if he’s gay or not, but he seemed a little tentative when he mentioned it in passing. Like he didn’t know how to bring up the subject. Anyway, he said he and his family just moved to Vintage City. I guess it’s his way of trying to settle into a new school.”

  I patted his hand, nodding my head in approval. “Good to see that you were nice to him.”

  “Okay, backtrack. What—what?” Freddie grimaced.

  He and Wade looked confused as hell, so I explained my original plan for Peter’s birthday gift, occasionally glaring at Althea for really messing stuff up for me. Once I was done, I glanced at Peter, and he looked all loopy.

  “All that grief for me?” he said, grinning and coloring. “You didn’t have to go through all that, Eric. I really don’t want anything for my birthday. Hanging out with my family and then with you guys and then just Eric is plenty. But…” He reached down and covered my left hand, which rested on my lap, and gave it a tight squeeze. “Thank you. That’s really sweet.”

  I eyed him shiftily. “Then would you be okay with my second choice for a birthday gift?”

  “Sure! Why shouldn’t—oh.”

  Peter got it. Blushing again, he gave my hand another squeeze and turned his attention back to his burger, pointedly ignoring everyone else’s stares as they all watched him, waiting for his answer. Me? I was so smug and smirking while nibbling away at a piece of fried zucchini.

  “Hey, this burger tastes fantastic,” he said. “They must’ve upgraded their seasonings.” He tried to sound all chipper and hyper, but his voice came out in a weak little whimper instead. Almost like he never hit puberty at all, and his voice went all over the place.