Stepping out of the hail and into the safety of his home, Gram brushed the bits of ice and water droplets off of his coat. His house, your standard, American Dream, home. With a living room with a couch and a TV. A comfy sofa off to the side. A small kitchen connected to it and a hallway that lead into the other room. Compared to his old home, where the very entrance stretched far and wide, where this very house could fit inside of the foyer, it certainly was a significant downgrade. Gram called to whomever was still up at this late hour; living mostly nocturnal life styles, everyone most likely. “I brought beer! You guys can have one each. The rest is mine… And the ice cream is also mine!” Silence… Weird… At this point the family dog, Misfit, would greet him with such enthusiasm. While one of his roommates, Romero, would be reading his book on the couch. “Must be sleeping.”

“Oh you’re home. How’s it going, Grammy?” A voice on the couch called out.

The 4th addition to the family. The warlock looked over to the owner of the voice, lying on a pile of cushion’s on the couch. There lied a severed head of a young looking woman. A head of long black hair that, with her lack of a body, spread out around her like octopus tendrils. Along with her body, her left eye too was missing as well, letting out a trial of wispy smoke. “Alto.” Gram nodded, taking one of the beers from the 6 pack, popping off the bottle cap with his thumb with ease. “I’m fine. Where are the others? Asleep?”

“Romero is off walking Misfit. She was acting wired and needed to get out” With an ever present grin, Alto laughed. “I would’ve gone with them, but I don’t want to mess up my hair. Plus, don’t want to leave an old Graham Cracker like you all alone.”

“Walking the dog at this hour? In the hail?” Gram went over to the freezer to stow away the ice cream before it melted. “Remind me to give him a reward. A treat for Misfit.”

“I don’t think either of them mind the hail.” Alto said, staring at the six pack of beer, now resting on the small table next to the sofa. rolled her eye. “You mind handing me one of those beers while you’re up?” Furthering the parallel to octopus tendrils, her locks of hair shifted and moved, one of them pointing towards the six pack.

“You can get it yourself.” Gram said, taking a sip of his own beer.

Alto rolled onto her side with a grumble. “Come on, I’m just a head. I’m too comfy to get up and move around. Will you do it if I say please? Please?”

She was like a child sometimes… He often cursed himself for inviting a faefolk to live with him. After a moment of pause, Gram caved in. “Fine, but only because of the please.” Gram removed his clock and rested it on the coffee table in front of the couch, revealing that his ‘armor’ appeared to be part of his body. Next, he grabbed another beer and popped the top off like the last one, and proceeded to hand it off to Alto, who wrapped her hair around it. “…And because we’ve known each other for so long.”

“Thank you, handsome~” Alto laughed, pouring the beer into her empty eye socket. Her head shook from the sudden buzz of alcohol. Despite being just a head, it didn’t pour out onto the couch. “Heh, while we wait for the others, I’ve been wondering something. Something I can’t quite put my non-existent finger on. How do you like it so far?”

“Like what so far?” Gram asked as he sat down in his favorite chair, propping his feet up on the footstool in front of it. From the counter next to the sofa, he picked up a comic book and flipped it open to the bookmarked page.

“What do you mean what? The retirement! You! Gram Bloodfeast! One of the most infamous warlocks of his time! You make one mistake and now you’re here, buying groceries and living next door to yuppies! I saw the neighbors across the street doing yoga in their yard! The mundaneness is already getting to me.”

Gram paused, sipping on his beer. Then, he shrugged, “…It’s a good kind of boring.” Then, he looked back to his comic book. “Also mundaneness isn’t a word.”

“So that’s it, eh?” Alto said, taking another drink.

“Think of it this way. A lot of old rock stars and movie stars have toned down, especially those who’ve started a family. That’s how I am… Might as well let some other warlock take up the mantle of most infamous. As few as there are, nowadays.” Throughout the conversation, Gram not once broke from his carefree, casual tone. Until he spoke the last few words. “Also, remember, the castle is gone.”

“Ich… You scare me when you talk like that.” Alto gritted her teeth. “Magic is a dying art and all, but does that mean we can’t go cause some ruckus? Go to one of the Back Alleys and remind the folks there that we still exist?” With a sigh and a smile, it was rare for her not to be smiling, she added. “Come on, what do you say?”

Gram paused, humming, his focus turned away from the comic. On one hand, their retirement just started a few days ago… On the other, it was a dumb idea to give up magic and dark arts all together. Rubbing his bony chin, he nodded, “Give me a few weeks to get adjusted, maybe? Get the hang of the whole double life thing? I’ll leave you with the task of finding the place.”

“Good, I know just the place. Just the two of us, don’t got to bring Romero or Misfit.”

“Sounds like a plan, my dear.” He held up a long, bony finger. “But remember: We’re not going back to the old ways. No conquering, no razing towns, no threats of world domination or destruction. Also, the day after tomorrow, I’m taking one of those yoga classes, so can’t be then.”

“Fine, you’re twisting my arm here. I don’t even have arms.” She chuckled. She might’ve been a loudmouth do-nothing that mooched off the Bloodfeast household and had a perpetually smug attitude, but Gram had yet to get rid of her for reasons not even he understood. “You doing yoga… Bring me with you, I gotta see.”

Just as their conversation finished up, the door swung open.

“Ah, Romero, Misfit, you’re home.” Gram said, giving a friendly wave to the two standing at the door.

There, the odd pair stood, stepping out of the hail.

Romero was a short, thin man. Incredibly thin. To the point of looking like a skeleton with petrified brown skin stretched over it. His empty, half closed eyes could be seen through, revealing his head to be hollow. Yet, despite his emaciated appearance, he dressed very nicely, in a finely tailored suit, and a wide brimmed hat. With a raspy groan, he returned Gram’s wave. A raspy groan that some how conveyed a tone of polite familiarity, tipping his hat.

In Romero’s hand was a red dog leash, connected to the collar of Misfit. She was a large, but very skinny four legged Creature. The body of a dog with short gray fur and a long tail, tipped with black fur. But, instead of a dog’s head, she had the face of a woman, with a long, ear to ear grin, a mouth that took up the majority of her head. Constantly smiling, making a quiet giggling sound every now and then. Her long, oily black hair covered her eyes.

These were the four members of the Bloodfeast household.

The homeowner, Gram. The caretaker, Romero. The parasite, Alto. The family dog, Misfit.