Something Wicked

Culver Blythe Forty-three | Witch You'd always come back. One more ride and one more ride. And, after awhile, you'd offer rides to friends, and more friends until finally... ...finally you wind up owner of the carousel... proprietor for some small part of eternity of the traveling dark carnival shows.... Maybe, said their eyes, they're already here. This is a roleplay/writing blog for @lunarcovehq All depictions are fictional

[dvsconocvdo]

Amrita had been out in a walk in a desperate attempt to process her feelings. In an attempt to ask herself why she broke into Town Hall. Why? She had always been a stickler for rules, and yet when the greed for more power and more magic and more knowledge fell onto her lips, she caved in. Why? Was there something just wrong with her? She thought the walk would be filled with silence. The young witch was confident no one would be around the amusement park, but she saw a... rather haunting puppet moving then become still, and like always, curiosity got the best of her. "A card?" She asked before looking at the ground embarrassed. Of course, he meant the cards. A quick sheepish smile was flashed to Culver as she nodded. "Sure," she swallowed, "I'd pick one." Her eyes wondered to the puppet, "Who's that? Or what's that? I... I don't know which to ask first." Her hands reached to the deck of cards, seeing if it was her time to pick a card or if he would mix them up before hand.

[cxblythex]

"I reckon so, unless you wanna pick somethin' else. I happen to be the pick of the litter myself. Coolest and best-looking cat this side of the Mississippi." Standing up to properly turn around, Culver brushed himself off and flashed an easy smile, gold tooth glittering strangely in the sideways glow of the floodlight. He gave something of a demonstrative half-bow. Grouping the cards together, then, the witch placed the renewed deck on his outstretched palm, and all at once, they began to shuffle themselves together, animated by his magic. "Round, round, round they go. Where they stop, nobody knows." Catching them, he spread them out in his fingers for Amrita to choose. "Oh, him? That's Toothwheel. He's sleepin' right now. Long dreary day. Not many visitors. Poor kid is tuckered out. But the show must go on. That's what the amazing Magi-Culver always says. And you're in luck. Private show. Go on. Pick any card. Look at it. Don't show me."

[masonxmahir]

With sleep schedule thrown for a loop and head still out of sorts, Mason was up too early and out of the house before the morning even registered in their brain. Groggy and lazily, they made their way through the bright smiley faces of the market, unable to match the mood to full extent but trying as much as he was able to least mimic the vibe which thankfully was not a complete failure even if less chipper than usual.

At first, he brushed the shadows as a trick of the sun, a sleepy mind perceiving them as funky shapes, but when a man moved to bird, Mason blinked and stood in spot watching it. "Superman?" he mumbled out, rubbing their eyes in hopes to rid themself of sleep, because it wasn't a bird nor a plane and when gaze finally moved away from the pavement, he slumped, it wasn't even Superman. "That's a different kinda new trick, ain't it?" Mason asked, slow and careful, a knot forming in their stomach at the sight of the dancing shadows and further still at seeing blood trickle, "You shouldn't be doing that, man, for real." He tried to hold steady, to not let voice shake but dark magic left them in a nasty trip and he grew extra cautious, "I don't want any seat to this show."

[cxblythex]

"Wouldn' be caught dead in a pair of Buddy Holly specs, pal," Culver replied with a grin, a somewhat strained expression, almost as though he had to force it onto his face. While the practice itself had proven exhilarating, a rush like no other he had experienced, the aftermath always seemed to tug him down, heavy and visceral. "Sure. Just learned it. Fuckin' cool, though, ain't it? I reckon I just gotta keep at it, and before you know it, I'll be a proper pro. You saw the rehearsal version," he replied, but Mason's rebuffing seemed to annoy him. Culver raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms with some defensiveness.

"And why the hell not? It's just magic. I do magic all the time. And for the record, I wasn't one of the folks who let it get to their head that night." A cold laugh came, and Culver sniffed. "Damn, all right. I thought we were pals, but I guess not. What is it? 'Cause it's dark? There ain't no light or dark. Just how you use it. And ain't it normal to wanna use things to defend yerself? And yer new friends? And maybe make a little cash on the down low? It's all just a sideshow at the end of the day.

[cxblythex]

Closed starter for @cantfightmoonlight Location: Lunar Cove Beach

Tired. He was so fucking tired. Logically, Culver knew that the more he dabbled in the unseemly magic just revealed to him, the larger toll it seemed to take on his body, sapping at him bit by bit. But he was not sure he believed magic could actually be unseemly. Magic was simply magic. It existed, and it was his. Outside of Lunar Cove, he never would have thought to divide it into light and dark, although he did suppose intent played a role. And he had no ill intent with his practice among the shadows.

As he reached the front of the line, the witch stiffened his shoulders, trying his damnedest to look more chipper than he felt. "Ya'll got any of that ultra cold brew shit? Somethin' that'll put hair on your chest, I mean. A real caffeinated kick in the ass."

[cxblythex]

Closed starter for @cantfightmoonlight Location: Along The Seen It Route

Up until this very moment, Culver had largely been satiated with simply manipulating the shape of the darkness. The whimsy of rabbit puppets tickled him, tugged pleasantly at the ventriloquist and magician he remained at heart. But tonight was different. He had propped Toothwheel up in front of his new floodlight, and pressing his hands against the wall there, Culver found himself sinking into the creature's shadow, a sickening and strange new exploration.

He fell out again from this hiding spot as one of the haunted tours made its way by, and of course, a full-grown man emerging from the wall at just the right moment earned at least a few screams of terror. Culver felt odd, though, overwhelmed by this haphazard display of power. He woozily crumpled to the ground.

[daphnebishop]

Daphne's nose twitched upwards in a look of distaste similar to that of a disgruntled dog. "I like wine as much as the next lush but I like it without gym sock sweat. Next." She said with a flourish of her hand. Daphne tapped her fingertips together, "Oh does he share?" She asked with a raise of her brows, "I have been told that nothing goes better with whiskey than corndogs and funnel cakes." Daphne was half fumbling with her phone, "You wouldn't want to keep a gal company would -" She began to ask her sentence trailing off at the sight of his bloody nose. Daphne's frown was instant and undeniable, "No don't apologize." She said rummaging through her purse, "I have tissues and a tampon." She offered before realizing he had his own. Exhaling Daphne stirred them out of the walkway. "I've sported a nose bleed or two myself in inopportune moments. At least it wasn't over any funnel cake." She lightened the mood, "Daphne Bishop but you can call me friend. I'm not picky."

[cxblythex]

Culver laughed, giving a shake of his head and speaking up in a warm, gruff voice. "Good choice, I reckon. Most folks never really develop a taste for locker room chianti, least from what I can tell." The witch gave a low hum at that, retrieving the hidden flask from his pocket; he shook it. "He happens to be a sainted person, a cherub, kissed by the very face of heaven. Of course he shares. But I take it ya ain't out here today lookin' for liquor from mysterious strangers, are ya? That said, I could...." Smirking out from beneath his handkerchief, an expression as close to embarrassment as someone with his lack of shame could muster. Another laugh erupted from his lips. "How am I gonna look with that stickin' outta my nostril? Mine are my own fault, in any case. Don't take good enough care of myself." Taking a beat, Culver tipped the handkerchief away, dabbing around his nose. "Pleasure. Culver Blythe. From Kentucky. Dad's name was Kane. So I reckon it's all fast casual chicken one way or another."

[cxblythex]

Closed starter for @thelatekuijames Location: Blush Boutique

While wearing sunglasses was not unusual for Culver, handy dust goggles as they were, the witch had certainly been donning them more often, even on days when the sun dared not creep out from behind the clouds. But a supernatural exhaustion had seized him since the year's start, and it had made itself known in the darkening circles forming around his eyes. Still, he had not given up his practice with the shadows, deciding, in his own mind, that each day was growing easier, even if each endeavor robbed him of his other innate abilities for a while.

To that end, Toothwheel was inanimate today. Culver toted him along, sealed up in his carrying case, as he shoved his way into the boutique. Looking up, the man flashed a smile. "Morning. Ya'll don't sell baby clothes, do you? In the market for a sort of...daddy and me matchin' set, I reckon."

[cxblythex]

Closed starter for @masonxmahir Location: The Farmers Market

The hour was still too early for the crowds that thronged the market on weekends, but with his sign and "magical" suitcase already in-place, Culver appreciated the quiet opportunity to rehearse prior to the day's festivities. He was revising his act. After all, the audience was already too familiar with Toothwheel, and while the magician was not abandoning the puppet completely, he had found other tricks with which he could dazzle passersby. And it was working out because some of those tricks seemed to render others temporarily unusable.

With his arms outstretched like a scarecrow, the man stood in a beam of morning sun, watching the way his own shadow played across the pavement. All at once, part of the image's shoulder seemed to warp, rippling and rising upward, growing wings, taking a shape almost like bird, as if it could rise into the air. But he lost control of the spell with no fanfare, his hold on the darkness forsaking him. "Fuck," Culver growled, bringing up a hand to cup his now bleeding nose as he spun around. He had been getting angrier with each failure, some part of him realized, as if this practice were seeping into him completely. He forced a smile. "Oh! Pardon my French, friend. Show's not started just yet. You can get a front row seat."

[cxblythex]

[daphnebishop]

OPTION 1 anywhere outside around town

All Daphne had to go on was potential whispers really, but when it was all she had to hold onto after losing her sister then she would turn the whisper into something tangible, impossible to ignore. She had felt like the world moved on far too quickly from the loss of Veronica Bishop. Content with little evidence and no justice. That didn't sit well with Daphne and she had been so adamant on it that she left her life, her husband, friends all she had ever hoped for on a whim. She arrived in Lunar Cove, spent the night in her empty rental, and sat about pasting posters on lamp posts with a photo of Ronnie urging anyone with information about her sister's death come forward. Anyone who gave information that led to answers would be paid well. Pasting the last of her posters on a metal pole she scrubbed her palms together pilling glue as she scanned the photograph, "God I could have picked a better one." She frowned stopping the next person on the street with a bright smile, "Hey, where can I get something good to eat and a strong drink?"

OPTION 2 eclipse

She was in mourning, not dead. So she donned her lithe frame in all black, short black dress, black sheer tights, and black boots and made her way to Eclipse which for all she could tell was the only real club-like establishment in Lunar Cove unless she wanted to hit up Sinners. But she was far more into dancing than watching others dance. At least for tonight. "Oh c'mon, don't be a sore loser!" She smiled breathless as the bartender handed over a pair of scissors which she would use to cut her prize. A bet that went in her favor resulted in the burly man with long hair pulled into a pretty ponytail having to hand it over. She paid for a pair of shots, cheers, tossed it back, and freed him of the ponytail which she held up in triumphant to cheers. Some who had watched as she dislocated her shoulder to twist her body out of a bind he swore no one could free themselves of. She had won the twelve inches of unprocessed hair and he had lost the great pleasure of her company. Daphne stood up on her stool where she was pulled up onto the bar with her prize and another shot on the house. Doing a brief victory strut down the bar like it was a catwalk she wiggled her fingers out, "Help a girl down would ya?" She beamed extending her hand to them.

[cxblythex]

Option 1

A strange, supernatural exhaustion had seeped its way into his very bones, and as he made his way through the streets of Lunar Cove, Culver sort of dragged himself in a bleary, frustrated stupor. Digging into the pocket of his pants, he retrieved a loose cigarette and brought it up to his mouth, lighting it with a match from the other pocket in one easy motion. "I'm sorry?" He murmured, having not been paying enough attention to the line of posters already dotting the sidewalk. "There's Joe's...Italian joint. Mighty good, I reckon, but I don't think he knows that when you make wine, yer supposed to take your socks off before you step on the grapes." Culver hummed. "Pier Pressure's still servin' corndogs and funnel cake, off-season be damned. And I happen to know a guy who carries good-ass whiskey on him all the time." He patted his own jacket pocket, managing a wide grin, one that showed off his golden tooth. In that moment, though, a trickle of red appeared at his nostril, streaming down his face. Culver brought up a hand to cup the nosebleed as he retrieved a handkerchief and held it in place. He had been having incidents like this since he started dabbling in shadow magic, but he had no intention of stopping just yet.. "Beg yer pardon, friend. I must look a proper wreck."

[cxblythex]

Closed starter for @dvsconocvdo (Amrita) Location: Pier Pressure

The amusement park itself sat largely abandoned, a combination of the lateness of the hour, of the chill in the air, and the threat of rain. Sitting in his usual corner, his carrying case filled with the meager few dollars he had gathered that day, Culver had set up a flood light, pointed at the cement wall of a restroom building. The strange metal puppet Toothwheel had been positioned in front of it, and animated by the witch's magic, the creature swayed back and forth in an odd jittery dance, its shadow moving along the wall. Culver watched it with a furrowed brow, caught still by the brief taste of power he had enjoyed during the chaos, the ability to wield the darkness.

He wanted more of it, wanted to see what limits he could reach, to be able to stare at the shadowy edges that surrounded his life even now and shout: I control you. You do not control me. Toothwheel froze in that moment, slumping backward as the witch allowed his focus to drift to the sound of approaching feet. Without turning around, he held up his deck of cards. "Step right up. Come one, come all. Wanna pick one?"

[aiylabaysal]

Aiyla softened a smile for the man, she never had considered not joining the court. As soon as she arrived in Lunar Cove she went to the Emerald and knocked down Hazal's door looking for the different sort of answers and unwittingly meeting her mother. Her true mother, her first mother. She hadn't known it then but Aiyla had been inexplicitly pulled towards the Fae Court, she signed her name on that dotted line took part in the feast, ate the food, drank the wine and became a part of something that would one day belong to her. She'd not expected it, asked for it and not even wanted it- but it was hers. Beurocratic bull shit and all. Aiyla made vague French noises boof and clicking her tongue, "A screwdriver and a trip to the hardware store could fix your wonky door." She said with a smile and matter of fact. "Put it on my calendar we can spruce it up and you can explain to me your reasons as to why you won't join the coven. I never imagined- but for now I feel my attention is terribly pulled."

Aiyla fluttered just inches above the ground, "I don't know, but just in case." She said shielding her face a bit before reaching out and taking his hand and placing her full trust in him.

[cxblythex]

"I mighta broke it inward with a crowbar, but you didn't hear that from me." Culver flashed an easy grin, a wry smirk that could genuinely make one doubt whether or not he were joking. He was not. Upon arriving in Lunar Cove, he had marched to his long-gone father's home and forced his way inside, deciding the dilapidated property was his well-deserved inheritance. "Time. S'all. Ain't a long story. And you don't wanna hear all about my murderous half-brother, now do ya?" He sighed, leaving the story on that bizarre note.

Either way, he took Aiyla's hand and stepped forward, his willpower maintaining the cloud of dirt with well-practiced magical precision. From the outside, it was a fog, a cyclone, a formless, impenetrable cloud of earth. The witch parted it only to shove his way through an emergency door, and while the rush of cold air threatened to disperse the smog, he would not allow it. All at once, though, they were outside looking in. And letting go, Culver waved his hand, the dirt abruptly falling to the ground, leaving them both dirtied. He pulled the sunglasses from his stained face. "You go do what ya gotta do, darling. Me? I'mma lay low. Oh! And don't tell no one a magician's tricks."

END

[cxblythex]

Closed starter for @moonglowmagic Location: Outside The Poison Room

Culver did not actually know where the coven itself met, still living squarely outside its ranks. But over his weeks in Lunar Cove, he had noticed that witches tended to gather around this place. And that made sense, he thought, seeing as they were all busy brewing lotions and potions and shit. Craning his neck, he peeked in the window before spinning around and lighting up a cigarette, mostly out of nervousness. He really did not know why he was nervous. Trying to find the Supreme to tell her you had met her dad and he was pissed and offered to help him learn dark magic was completely fucking normal. It was also completely fucking normal to have dared dip one's toes into those darkened waters. The witch shuddered, catching the sight of movement. "Oh...uh, howdy. I don't really say bullshit like that. Reckon it's just cheek. You want a smoke?"

[linden-reed]

closed starter for; @cxblythex bad moon brewery

Since his father's spell had worn off, Linden had been chasing distraction more than usual, he was like a man drowning, and something to keep him occupied was a raft in the storm of his mind. Under the spell he had embraced his magic in a way he wouldn't dare dream of. He had no issues reading minds, he'd suggested the use of his powers to hunt down his father. Things he would never dream of doing in his right mind. His power was like an infection, a parasite, eating away at him, and since the spell, since he had embraced it, it felt harder to reign in. So here he was, drinking at the brewery, a book in front of him, trying to down out the voices in his head that were trying to claw their way in. "I think I have read this book, genuinely at least a hundred times, and I can still never wrap my mind around the fact that it was written by an eighteen year old for a spooky story competition." He said, not particularly directed to anyone, just wanting someone to speak with him, to give him something to focus on.

[cxblythex]

"Frankie's nice and all, but I'm more of a Faust feller myself." Culver sniffed, looking up to offer a sideways smirk. He had been staring at his own beer, not drinking it, but swirling it around and watching the way the amber color shimmered with the light. The events of the past weeks had left him strangely irritated, vexed by everything. Dark magic had been a scary story itself, in his mind, something whispered about by his mother to keep him in line as a child. Seeing it in action had stirred within him a longing he was not sure he liked or wanted. And he had been lured too easily by the promises of power, despite his own assertions that he needed no more of that. "Sorry, friend. You weren't talkin' to me."

[silaschamberlain]

"Hey, I know the feeling, mate. People have a ton of choice words to say about me as well and Silas Chamberlain, the one and only," He explained, giving the other man a dramatic bow as a smirk toyed at the corner of his lips. "In that case, my friend, you should have no problem accepting my offer, now shouldn't you? And nothing too crazy, Crowley. I'm simply acting as a good Samaritan this evening. You see, I don't exactly agree with your Council on the idea that dark magic is evil. It's quite the ridiculous notion, don't you think? So, I've decided to give the witches and vampires in this town a taste of what they've been missing out on. On what has been deprived from them and then I'll leave the choice in your hands as to whether or not you'd like to continue practicing or go back to performing your light magic only. Though, if you do decide to continue to learn what else is out there, I'd be more than happy to continue to be someone you can reach out to. So, what do you say? What to learn your true potential or what?"

[cxblythex]

"Yer name precedes you. Takes a lotta good deeds to build up a reputation. Only one bad one to lose it. I dunno who said that. Saw it under a bottle cap in a diner once." Culver cracked his jaw from side to side, craning his neck, watching the other from a terse, heavy distance. He cleared his throat. "Well, that's what I'm tryna figure out, I reckon. You know, Crowley never called himself a Satanist. I wouldn't call myself one neither. Got too much of my own power to be tryna get it from other entities, you understand? Willing to share what I got for other's sakes, but don't need more. Got plenty." He shook his head, averting his eyes. "Not quite my Council, mate. I ain't in the coven. Don't get me wrong. Respect the hell outta what they got here, but...all that's got nothing to do with me right now." This was not a judgement or a putting down, but it came factually. For the moment, Culver was a free agent, one who had resolved, in part, to right wrongs, of course. "Maybe I'd like it for it to have something to do with me. One day. But I don't know much about light magic or dark magic. Always saw my magic as just magic. It is what it is, and it's mine. What makes 'em different?" A laugh followed, low in his throat. "Yeah? You gonna give me your pager...friend?"

[itsronniebish]

"I know what magic smells like," Ronnie said, stepping closer. "It's not deodorant." To call it a smell wasn't quite right, either. It was more than that, just an innate knowledge that magic was there and she wanted it and she needed it, desperately, needed to feel it in her chest, her stomach, to taste it and then use it. She couldn't helped the way she licked her lips. "This doesn't have to be trouble. It can be fun. All you have to do is share." She smiled. Another step forward. "I think you're very interesting. Maybe we could talk about it some."

[cxblythex]

"Maybe it's whiskey. You wanna little?" Culver did not move to create more distance between them, but he also did not let down his guard. Eyes trained squarely on Ronnie, he fished into his pocket to retrieve the flask he had been nursing all night. "I'm a mighty generous person. I just gotta ask you to keep your teeth where I can see 'em. You understand. I charge for a bite of this." The witch sniffed, uncertain, really, why the other was flitting about his magic like a shark. "I'd like that, darling," he replied. "But maybe some other time. What's it gonna take for us to part ways here with no trouble, hm?"

[aiylabaysal]

Aiyla nodded dusting her hands off, "I'm afraid it's not as fantastical as you might be imagining it to be but you've got it- I still owe you a palace tour." She half joked despite their dire situation. She laughed properly, "Midsummer murder and still the neighboriest." She mushed the word together after watching too much Buffy the last few weeks the Buffy-fying of words slipped in here and there. "I would advice you still lock your doors. I do." She said leaving out that it wouldn't matter if someone truly wanted to get in unless they were a vampire of course. "I'm sure there are wards for magical locks." She said gesturing around considering the border was in a way it's own sort of lock. She shook her head, "Some of them are effected. Some aren't. It seems the ones in the coven unaffected can't do magic." She pointed out with a frown ducking and covering her head as a shadow shattered at the wall by their heads and spread like inky darkness down the floor. Aiyla fluttered above the darkness a look of annoyance crossing her features. "You ever play the floor is lava darling?" She asked nodding to the creeping shadows not totally sure what they'd do.

Aiyla thought about it a soft panic in her chest, "Maybe a minute or two- why? Do I need to hold my breath?" She asked reaching out as if she needed to grab hold of him rather than let the chaos pull them a part and they lose one another to the chaos.

[cxblythex]

Culver flashed a lopsided grin despite himself, gold tooth glittering. "We get outta here in one piece, and you can spirit me away any which way you like, darling." A sharp nod followed, but the witch did not intend to actually let his guard down too far. He turned back to the fray, furrowing up his brow, hands poised to call upon his magic as needed. "Quaint thing is that my door sorta hangs off its hinges right now. And if I wanna dabble in magical wards, I probably need some of that coven clout, I reckon," he grimaced. But while the words were half-joking, some kernel of truth clung to them. The run-down property he was currently calling home was in dire need of repairs, ones he would get to eventually. "Lucky for me right now, though, ain't it?" He cocked his head at the dirt swirling around his forearms, but catching sight of the shadows at their feet, Culver winced, hopping up onto sofa, not quite caring that he was dirtying an antique with his boots. "I'll let ya know when my wings come in!" He brought up a hand, then, twisting his fingers at a statue near the door. Animated, it moved of its own accord, jutting out to trip someone.

"Dunno if your kind can get silicosis is all. Don't want ya to breathe in the dust," he explained, his earthen magic kicking up a maelstrom of dirt, swirling around the two of them like a barrier or smokescreen, obscuring their view. Culver's free hand fished into his pocket to retrieve his sunglasses, not quite goggles but good enough for now. He reached out to grab Aiyla's hand. "I'm gonna get us to the door. Close your eyes."

[silaschamberlain]

"Oh, but you do," Silas mused. The corners of his lips tilted up into a sinister smirk as he slowly turned to face the other, "You're a witch, right? And more specifically are related to a Kyle Kane, correct? You know the zombie who killed my daughter, that one?" He posed with a cock of his brow. "You see, I came town in part to find this Kyle, but it's appears he's dead which is rather unfortunate, isn't it? But, look man, I get it. I know that you are not your family. So, I'll tell you what- it seems to me like we really only have one of two options here. Option A- we can let bygones be bygones. I won't try to enact some misguided sense of revenge onto you and, you can show me your appreciation, by letting me teach you a few things. Your half-brother might have used dark magic maliciously, but you can different. With a little guidance, you can use it to make sure that you and your loved ones are safe this evening. You can be the town hero Kyle was not. Or Option B- You reject my rather generous offer to help you accomplish whatever it is you are in such a hurry about and in turn present me with a new found outlet to fuel the rage I experience over the loss of my first born through."

[cxblythex]

Culver's face did not move an inch, his expression grizzled in its own placidity, as he regarded Silas. It seemed he was not going to be allowed to pass, and if this was where he finally had to lie down, well, he would do so talking. "Ain't the worst thing I've been called, friend," he replied shortly, obliquely neither answering nor refusing to answer the question. "Who's asking? I know a lot of zombies. I blame the cellphones." The witch sniffed a little, swallowing hard, licking his teeth. "But I'm mighty sorry to hear that. I do disagree, though, I reckon. I don't think it's unfortunate at all that Kyle Kane is dead, nah. I hear that he was taken down by an extension of the very blood he spilled. And ain't that just the most poetic justice? I get it, though. I do get it. The Good Lord visits the iniquity of the fathers upon the children unto the third and fourth generation. And I am, after all, my brother's keeper. And you're a good daddy." A terse smile followed, a low laugh. "You got me wrong there, though, friend. I ain't no hero. I'm just a demon of a different sort at this same crossroad as you. I talk like you talk. I also ask questions I already know the answer to." He looked down to the knife in his hand. "You know, it's awful funny. I always said that, if I weren't born what I am, and which of us can help what we're born as, I'd seek out the devil in the woods myself. And get mine. And now here he is, asking me to sign his book. I just gotta know: what's in it for Lucifer? I take your kind and generous and gentile offer, what do you get in return?"