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Silver Part Three

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The drive back to my apartment was uneventful, save for Alphus’ taste in music. It was some indie station, and between the music, it was advertising some kind of Woodstock reboot in July, in New York. I turned to Alphus. “Can we listen to something else?” I asked in a half-joking manner.

“What?” he asked.

“I just expected a centuries old construct to have a more refined music taste.” He laughed.

“Not all of us can get by on Mozart and mid 1950’s Jazz.”

“You leave Jazz Abroad out of this,” I said as we pulled into the parking lot in front of our unit. “It didn’t do anything to you.” He laughed, and we got out of the car. The smell hit me. Mrs.Kinnian from 3C was making her apple turnovers again. Alphus leaned on the roof of the car, my old Plymouth creaking under his bulk.

“Smells like Mrs.K wants something from you again,” he said. I waved at Mrs.Kinnian through her window, returning the warm smile that she gave me.

“Why do you say that?”

“She and Mr.K don’t like apple turnovers. But you do.” I patted my stomach. I started towards her door.

“I might as well see what she wants then.”

“Silver, we’ve got our plate full.”

“And it’s about to be more full,” I said as I approached her door, across the hall from mine. “With apple turnovers.” I knocked on the door. Alphus sighed. “We’ll see what she wants and take some baked goods. That’s all.”

“We don’t have time for this.” Mrs.Kinnian opened the door. She was a tiny old lady, with frazzled white hair that blew up around her head like a frizzy halo, and glasses thick enough to stop bullets. The smell of cinnamon, apples, and chocolate blasted out the hall past her, and my stomach growled. She smiled at me.

“Well hello there silver,” she said, with the kind of affection that only a grandparent could give. Damn. I really was going to end up doing a favor for her, wasn’t I? She looked up at Alphus. “Hello, Martin,” she said, and smiled at him too.

“Hello, Dora,” he said, and I could hear that his resolve was weakening.

“Won’t you come inside for some baked goods and coffee?”

“Actually,” Alphus said, putting a heavy hand on my shoulder, “we just wanted to check in on you. We need to get to some other business we have.”

“Oh you two can’t even take some of them off my hands?” She stepped aside, and her old, spoiled beagle wheezed his way over to me. I crouched and pet him.

“Unfortunately not,” Alphus said. “We’d have to take them to go.” The beagle, Mr.Whitmus, started licking my hands.

“Oh are you sure dear? I made those gooey fudge cookies you love, and you know they’re best warm.”

“Well, I- uh,” he hesitated, and I smiled, knowing we had him. “Okay,” he said. “Just a few minutes though.”

“Of course, dear,” she said. I stood up, and she led the both of us inside. On the walls of her entrance hall were pictures of her and Mr.Kinnian, a heavyset, kind man with dark skin and a bushy mustache. Her carpeting was plush, as was her furniture. She had a thick, orange and green floral couch, a padded rocking chair with purple cushions, and a gray loveseat. All of this around a dark wooden coffee table with an unsullied finish. The orange face of Garfield smiled at us from a set of four coasters set around a metal bowl full of multicolored stones that doubled as a candle holder. She shuffled off to the kitchen, and both Alphus and I took a seat on the couch. Alphus glanced at the T.V, which was playing a rerun of Jeopardy.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Alphus hissed.

“What do you mean?” I asked, doing my best to sound innocent.

“We have other shit we have to do, and-”

“Are you sure that I can’t get the two of you any coffee?”

“I’m good, thank you,” Alphus said, doing his best to hide his irritation.

“Just some tea for me, please,” I said. “I’m sure that Martin would love a cup, he’s just being polite.”

“What the-”

“Oh, he should know better than to be polite in this household!” Dora laughed, cutting Alphus off. Alphus groaned, and rested his forehead in his hands.

“No sugar, please,” he said, defeated.

“I’ll take some,” I said. A few minutes passed quietly, Alphus occasionally muttering the trivia that contestants on Jeopardy missed under his breath. Eventually, Dora brought us each a plate with our baked goods of choice, and our tea.

“Won’t you have any?” Alphus asked.

“I already had some,” she said. We all made small talk for a little while, which helped to ease the tension that had been growing in my neck since I woke up that morning. Well, it was more of the night before, but that didn’t seem relevant. Mr.Whitmus climbed into my lap. He was a heavy boy, but incredibly soft. At some point, Alphus leaned his head back, closing his eyes. He didn’t need to sleep, but he still needed to enter a sort of trance to regain his energy, where he sort of stopped paying attention to the world around him. I’m still not quite sure how it all works. I’m not a flesh-smith. “Silver,” she finally said after I finished my tea. “I need to ask you a favor.” I looked up from Mr.Whitmus, who I had been showering with belly rubs.

“What’s the favor?”

“Well I,” she hesitated, glancing out the window behind me. “I don’t rightly know.” I raised an eyebrow, and leaned forward as much as I could with a thirty pound beagle in my lap. She leaned in as well. “I think it might’ve had to do with your kind of folk.”

“What do you mean by that?” I asked, unsure if she meant gay people or practitioners.

“Folks of a magical persuasion,” she whispered, as though we were sharing a conspiracy. Most of the people in our complex were clued in on the supernatural, having had a severe haunting a few years prior, and some of the residents themselves being inhuman beings.

“What did you see?”

“Well I saw it outside, last night,” she said, and looked out her window again. “It was tall, taller than a person, and nothing but skin or bone,” a chill ran up my spine, and Alphus snapped out of his trance, his eyes fixing on her with razor focus. She balked. “Maybe I didn’t see-” Alphus shook his head.

“Please continue,” he said, “it’s important.” She nodded.

“It was so fast, I wasn’t sure what I was looking at.” I stood up, Mr.Whitmus hopping to the ground. Why hadn’t my wards alerted me the moment a feaster entered the complex? “It ran into the woods there,” she said, and gestured to the patch of woods across from the apartment complex. That was bad. I knew that a few families had houses on the other side of the woods, not to mention the people living in the woods themselves. “What should I do?” Alphus paced to the window, looking outside.

“First, get inside as soon as the sun goes down. Stay there. It might be a good idea for Harold to stay home too.” I glanced around her living room. “Do you have anything that’s made of Silver? Genuine, authentic silver. Sterling will do, but the purer the better.”

“I have my mother’s old set,” she said, and walked to a cabinet with glass doors. She opened it, and took out the silverware set, which sat below what I assumed was a picture of her mother. She handed it to me. I took a piece out, and tried to run Arcane Energy through it. It didn’t work.

“This is perfect,” I said. I set some on the windowsill, touching the window.

“Put the silverware by each window, and on the internal lining of the door. Tell the others I said to do the same if they can.” I glanced outside again. It was still bright out, but the sun was slowly beginning to set. About three hours until dark. “I have something else I need to do tonight, but the silver will keep it out.”

“What should I do if it shows up again?”

“It won’t be able to get in, but if something happens and it does, my door will be unlocked. Lucille will be home. She can handle it.” She nodded. She was shaking, clearly afraid. I hugged her. “It’ll be okay,” I said. She nodded. “I have to go handle something else, and then I promise I’ll take care of this.”

“Okay.” I let her go, and walked towards her door.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I left her apartment, and glanced at Alphus.

“Still think it can wait?” I asked.

“Yeah, yeah. Why didn’t your wards pick up on an Outsider?”

“No idea,” I said, and opened our apartment. The smell of incense and old candles wafted out, mingling with the smell of Mrs.K’s baked goods. I paused. There was nothing else. Normally static washed over my skin when I walked inside, a side effect of my wards. Alphus bumped into me.

“Why’d you stop?” he asked.

“They’re fucking gone,” I said.

“What?”

“My wards, they’re gone.” Alphus swore in a language I didn’t understand, shoved me behind him, and drew his handgun. “Lucille,” I called, “is everything okay?”

“Peachy,” she called.

“Boxers or briefs?” Alphus asked.

“Boxer-Briefs,” she said. “Crunchy or creamy?”

“I prefer Hazelnut Spread,” I said. Alphus put the gun away. Lucille stepped out of the kitchen. She was frowning. She wore jeans and a T-shirt, and a scar worked its way down the left side of her face, from just above her brow down to her throat.

“Why the interrogation?” she asked. Alphus and I stepped inside, and I closed the door.

“My wards are down,” I said. She blinked.

“How?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said.

“I’m taking a look around outside,” Alphus said. “Stay here.”

“Okay,” I said. Alphus left, looking more nervous than I had seen him in a long time.

“What happened?” Lucille asked.

“A lot,” I said. “I’ll tell you over dinner. What are we having?”

“I’m making shrimp fried rice,” she said. I nodded. “Go sit down, I’ll bring you a bowl.”

“Thanks,” I said, and sat down in the living room by the front door. Where Dora’s furniture was pristine, practically untouched, ours was scavenged from yard sales and thrift shops. Our futon had been patched with various different types of cloth, and Alphus’ big chair leaked stuffing from the various holes he hadn’t been able to patch yet. He didn’t let anyone else touch it. Our coffee table had been torn up by Lucille’s cat, Boomstick, and the surface was cratered with cup rings. We’d spent most of our furnishing budget on the TV, which took up a good chunk of the wall opposite the futon, and Lucille’s PlayStation sat under it, with a few scattered games. Boomstick joined me, and I scratched behind the large orange cat’s ears. He purred like an engine, and flopped over on my lap. He batted at my hands as I reached for the remote, flipping on some nature documentary. I heard Lucille start cooking, and closed my eyes. After a few minutes, she was nudging me, holding out a bowl.

“Eat up,” she said. I took the fried rice and put it down, and she walked to the kitchen, coming back with her bowl, and a beer for each of us. I tapped my beer to hers, and she took a long drink from it. She had dark skin, and as a lycanthrope, her features were just on the human side of the uncanny valley. “So what happened?” she finally asked.

“Well, I got a call around 10 AM from Seattle’s finest,” I said. “They had a body they wanted me to look at, and a ritual.” I took a bite of the fried rice. It was divine, the fattiness and saltiness being exactly what I needed.

“Was it something real?” she asked.

“Oh yeah,” I said. “A little too real, actually,” I said. The door opened, and Alphus stepped in, closing the door behind him.

“Oh, sweet, fried rice,” he said, and walked to the kitchen.

“Find anything?” I asked him.

“No,” he said. “Footprints look like a feaster, but that doesn’t explain the wards.” He left the kitchen, and walked to his chair with a beer and his food. “Thanks for dinner, Lucille.”

“Of course,” she said. “So the scene was a bit too real?” she asked.

“Yeah. So I called the C.O.D in, met the replacements.”

“We knew you would at some point. Can’t leave the post empty.” I nodded in agreement.

“Yeah.” I took another bite. “So, after that fun scene, I head to Marcilla’s because she had something for me. Come to find out one of her guys was killed-”

“The packs didn’t-”

“Have anything to do with it, I know,” I said, and waved my hand at her. I thought back on the scene, and my stomach twisted as I remembered the Arcane pollution. The taste of blood. The way the energy was alive. That skittering. Thing. “I know,” I said again.

“That bad?”

“Yeah,” Alphus and I said at the same time. I shook my head with disgust. “Then I come home and find my wards are dead, and there’s a feaster running around.” I finished my rice, and got up. “I need to go start my Steel-Soul and God’s Tears.” I put my bowl in the sink, and leaned against the hallway wall, looking at her.

“Are you heading out again tonight?” Lucille asked.

“Yeah,” I said, “I have to appease a revenant.” She clicked her tongue sympathetically.

“Sounds like you have your hands full.”

“I do.” She met my eyes, thinking for a moment.

“You know, I can’t close the Third Gate for you,”

“I know.” I crossed my arms.

“The pack and I could hunt that feaster down for you, though.” I thought for a moment. She and the rest of her pack were shifters, unaffected by the phases of the moon, so they wouldn’t be weakened by it starting to wane. Additionally, I’d be too busy to handle it that night. Finally, and most importantly, I knew that whatever I said, she would go hunt it anyways.

“Sure,” I eventually said. “It’s not like it can infect you. Just be careful.” She nodded, and it was clear that I had passed some kind of test.

“I always am.” I chuckled as I turned away from her, and made my way to my work room. I put my hand on the door, and sent a pulse of energy through it. The door slid open, and I sighed with relief. The room was almost as large as my apartment on its own. I stepped in, and the door closed behind me. I was met with the hum of Arcane Energy, and I glanced around at the runes. The extradimensional space was holding, the place seemingly unaffected by whatever had disabled my wards. I let out a sigh, and took in the smell of the herbs I grew there. I had shaped the extradimensional void into a vague facsimile of an antique study, complete with a perpetually roaring fireplace and heavy bookshelves. My summoning circle was untouched, which I took as another good sign. The easiest way for Outsiders to intrude on a Practitioner's home was through the summoning circle. The only permanent etching was the circle itself, and the protective hieroglyphs around it. It was at the end of the room, in front of the fireplace. A plush chair sat in the circle, a small olive branch I offered to anything I summoned. If I called you, I’d do my damndest to make sure you were comfortable. In the spaces between bookshelves and cabinets, I had placed planters, growing various herbs and mushrooms that I needed for alchemy. Small orbs of light hung above them. Along the center of the room was a series of six burners, each with a clean flask. In the middle was a well, which tapped into somewhere in the Beyond to conjure water within it. I got to work. I was out of powdered Drake Bone for the Steel-Soul, so I had to make do with just the God’s Tears. It had the unfortunate scent of rotten straw. While the potion was simmering, I visited my cabinet again, grabbing my bag, and loading it with Silver Powder, Crushed Quartz, Golden Thread, a vial of Fool Moon water, and my silver dagger. The dagger was a gift from my teacher, keeper Durello. It was a Pugio, the word Custos etched on the blade, as a statement of office. I left my athame behind. I wouldn’t need to open any gates. I grabbed the staff I had been working on. A focus isn’t necessary for working with the Arcane, but it helps, especially when you have to do it quickly and dirty. I tend not to use one unless necessary, because it draws attention. This one was specifically made of Ash Wood, to help ground and redirect hostile energies. I had worked three copper rings, the metal of the First Gate, around the bottom, etched with protective runes, to capture and hold energies. I had wrapped the staff in strips of Birch for further protection, simply burning “shield” into each strip in various languages. It was coming along well, but I still needed to affix a head to it. I wasn’t sure if I would go with a band, an orb, or an animal head. I put it aside once I had wrapped the eight strips around it, one for each Gate. I decided that I would have the head made of obsidian, as its connection to the void made it ideal to absorb energies. I put it back in the cabinet, and bottled the potion. God’s Tears was used to numb pain and raise resilience. I only made one bottle, as potions would be useless for Alphus, then cleaned up and left. By then, two hours had passed.

“Welcome back,” Alphus said from his room. It was a cluttered sort of den, with various weapons that he had collected over the centuries. “I grabbed my sword, and loaded up on silver bullets.”

“Here’s hoping we won’t need them,” I said.

“I’ll drink to that.” He got up, and pulled a long coat over himself. “Lucille went out with the pack already. What do we do if Mrs.K needs to get in and get protected?” I sighed. I’d forgotten about that.

“We could ask Alex.” I sighed, and nodded.

“I’ll do it, yeah.” I walked over to the phone, and dialed for Alex. It rang twice, and he picked up.

“Heya Silv, wassup?” I heard Beethoven bark in the background, recognizable even over the phone.

“Are you at home?”

“Yeah man. What do you need?”

“Can you watch the house tonight? Something took my wards down-”

“Jello or Pudding?”

“Ice cream,” I said, trying to mask my irritation.

“Sorry man, can’t be too careful.”

“Yeah. Anyways, my wards are down, and Mrs.K saw a feaster around.”

“Yeah, heard about that.”

“Yeah. I’m heading out to deal with a revenant, and Lucille won’t be home, so,”

“You need someone there if shit hits the fan. Yeah man, I can watch Mrs.K for yah.”

“Thanks man.”

“‘Course, dude.” There was a pause. “Did you say a revenant?”

“Yeah, long story.”

“Fuck man, I’m just glad I’m not you. I’ll be over in a few.” He hung up. After a few minutes, I heard him knocking on the door. I opened it. He was wearing a tanktop and cargo shorts, with flip flops. His entire body was covered in scars, from his work as an independent hunter. He had Beethoven with him, the ragged Great Dane pouncing on Alphus, who started showering him with attention.

“Thanks for doing this last minute. Mrs.K knows you, so this should be fine.”

“Yeah dude.” He looked past me, at Alphus. “Guns are still in your room, yeah?”

“Yeah. I got a new sig.”

“Oh sick, what model?”

“I got the P229, loaded with .357. Silver, of course.”

“Nice, nice,” Alex looked around. “Where’s Boomstick?”

“Probably hiding from Beethoven,” I said. “Listen, Alphus and I have to go, but I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“If you don’t check in in two days, I’m assuming you’re dead.” I knew he wasn’t joking.

“I understand.” Alphus and I headed out. I glanced up at the night sky. A thick band of storm clouds was rolling in. I sighed.

“That’s foreboding.”