This week I was introduced to A Tale of Two Horses for the first time, and of course I had to try making designs for the horses!
Rainbow Basher:
Breed: Friesian Horse
Height: 18 hands
Coat: Sooty rainbow?
“The Horse”
Breed: Who knows. Mule ancestry?
Height: 15 hands
Coat: Blue Roan/Dapple Grey
I tried to research what horse breeds were used in battle (a ton were listed for carrying artillery) and turns out the Friesian Horses were used to carry knights in battle, because they were incredibly agile despite their size (and their strength helped with carrying heavy armor) And considering that today Friesians are viewed as one of (if not the) prettiest horse breeds, I figured it was perfect for Rainbow Basher! Also I made the blaze on her head resemble a shooting star, she originally belonged to Mabel after all.
For “The Horse” I aimed to make it much more ambiguous, like it had been bought from some farmer for its low price. I like to think it has some sort of mule ancestry, because mules are cool and it has the attitude for it. It’s on the smaller side, and the emaciation doesn’t help. Since the Car is blue, I gave the Horse a coat kind of like a Blue Roan’s, but at one point I accidentally inverted it and liked the Dappled Grey look I ended up with. It also has a white face bc it’s olddddd.
Thomas watched television. Switched to his laptop. Then his phone, scrolling through the same four apps and feeling more frustrated by the second.
The discussion board he frequented was full of speculation about Alcor. The afternoon news had also focused on the recent deaths, but by the time the evening news rolled around it had become just a side note. Obviously demon-related deaths weren’t interesting enough, compared to a teen pop star who had been caught drunk driving.
The demonology community was quietly panicking, sure, but at least the rest of the world wasn’t freaking out yet about Alcor maybe getting in a more ‘let’s snap a continent from the map’ kind of mood.
Not that he was. Thomas was almost certain of that.
He wanted to be certain, anyway.
Ugh. It felt disloyal to even think of Tyrone that way, but he couldn’t help it. He worried! That's what he always did! It was unfair that the world only gave him more and bigger things to worry about!
He checked his phone again. A message from Elisha, warning him that she was probably going to be working late today. Something about a messed up dye job, if he translated her creative abbreviations correctly?
Another message was from Maria, inviting him and Elisha to an evening out. Well, Elisha couldn't and Thomas was definitely not in the mood to be social tonight.
He sent a reply back and got up, ambling to the kitchen. Elisha was going to be late, so it was too early to get dinner going. Might as well get a little snack to tide him over until then.
He should have been working today. Instead he'd spent the entire day in the apartment and it was starting to feel really small, being cooped up in here. Maybe it was time to think about moving to something bigger? You never knew what the future would bring, right? If there were going to be kids, like they had talked about...
He pulled Elisha's fridge open and stared at its insides, without really seeing. What was he thinking? A bigger apartment? Kids? How were they going to afford any of that? Was he ever going to be reinstated at the university? Should he start applying for other jobs already? What could he even do?
A ding! from his phone interrupted his spiralling thoughts. Probably a reply from Maria. Well, he wasn't letting her convince him this time. He was going to spend the evening in his apartment and feel miserable about himself. Those were his plans, that was exactly what he deserved to do.
He should probably tidy up a little though, before Elisha came home.
Thomas was halfway through reloading the dishwasher when his phone chimed again, insistently. Ugh, fine. It better not be Maria telling him to stop moping again. They meant well, sure, but Thomas felt like he deserved a little self-pity right now.
He washed his hands and gave in, reading his messages. Huh, they weren’t from his friends, but from Hicks.
[Meet me at the lab in ten minutes and don’t tell Alcor yet, it’s very important you don’t. I might know an experiment that may clear his name – and yours,] the first message said, followed by the second one, which was only, [hurry.]
Thomas grabbed his coat, scribbled a hurried note for Elisha and left. Damn, he’d forgotten his keys in the apartment – whatever, Rainbow Basher would let him drive without them.
He had no idea how he got to the lab, his mind awhirl with too many thoughts. It was probably a good thing Rainbow Basher didn’t need much input from him while driving, because Thomas was way too distracted to focus on the road.
He left Rainbow Basher in her usual parking spot and rushed to the demonology building. It was just past sundown, there were no students or other faculty in sight. The main entrance was still unlocked, and a janitor Thomas didn’t recognise was slowly mopping the hallway.
He gave the janitor a friendly, if distracted nod while he walked past. He got no reply, but hey, at least the man didn’t try to stop Thomas. Even with Hicks’ invitation he wasn’t entirely sure if he was allowed in the lab anymore. Technically he was still a faculty member, but the suspension made things murky…
Whatever. It wouldn’t be the first time he had to break into the lab.
At the stairs to the demonology lab he passed a woman pushing a cart with cafeteria supplies. Another new hire? Maybe she was part of the evening shift, getting things ready for the morning rush. Seriously, he had only been absent for a day and a half, there couldn’t be so many new faces here.
The door to the lab didn’t accept his badge, but it opened anyway, thanks to Hicks. He greeted Thomas with a solemn nod and motioned him to follow.
“You said there was a way to clear Tyrone’s name, sir?” he asked, as his teacher led him down the stairs and into the summoning lab. The viewing balcony was dark and empty, but the lab itself was… rather messy, actually. Sheesh, he hadn’t been gone two days and look at this? Supplies were stacked haphazardly on the work benches, and the crate where he had stored all the necessities for his new possession project had been pulled out and tipped over.
That wasn’t like Hicks at all. Maybe Barnes had filled in for Thomas? She normally didn’t do any practical summonings, her focus was on theory and running the department. Still, the mess was… odd.
“Yes, there is,” Hicks said, and gestured at the circle in the dead centre of the room. It was contained between the carved lines of the unfinished binding circle, the failsafe one that could be triggered by a button. The ‘danger zone’, as Thomas usually called it when he showed students this place. Always stay away from that centre, unless you’re actively drawing your circle. Inside those lines the demons waited.
It was empty now, and the lines of the summoning circle were dark. Not activated yet. The one-eyed star held pride of place with its wings spread wide.
There was something off about that circle, but Thomas couldn’t put his finger on it. Too many embellishments, too intricate. He wanted to kneel down to get a closer look, but Hicks put a hand on his shoulder, drawing him back.
“Don’t,” he said.
“What does this experiment involve, exactly?” Thomas frowned, and obediently stepped away from the circle. “And how can I help?”
“This is how those humans died,” Hicks said. He still had his hand on Thomas’ shoulder, and that was… that was weird. Hicks was sweating a lot, he noticed. He had a sour, animal-like smell. Reptilian, almost. “They used this circle.”
“How did you get it, sir?” Thomas said, carefully. Alarm bells were ringing in his head. He tried to subtly pull away, but Hicks's hand just tightened. Almost bruising. “You can let go of me now.”
“We need to perform this summoning,” Hicks went on, as if Thomas hadn’t spoken at all. “See who shows up. If it is the Dreambender, then you will know he isn’t to be trusted.”
Thomas wrenched his shoulder loose and backed away, towards the buttons that would close the binding on the floor, sound the evacuation alarm, or douse the entire room in holy water, depending on which one he chose. At the moment, all three all sounded good. “You’re not Hicks, are you?”
“Don’t talk nonsense, boy,” Not-Hicks said, his voice too flat. “It’s me. Your teacher.” The demon pursed his lips, almost pouting. “You’re supposed to believe me.”
If Thomas hadn’t already realised something was off, that light, complaining tone ‘Hicks’ affected would have been enough proof. He reached the panel with the emergency buttons and slammed the third one.
Holy water completely failed to shower the demon in sparks and agony. What? Why weren’t the sprinklers working? Hicks always kept the reservoir full!
“Oops,” Not-Hicks deadpanned. “Was that supposed to do anything?”
Stars, this was horrible. “You’re really bad at impersonating my professor, demon. Release him and leave. Last chance.”
Not-Hicks only smiled. “Or what? You’ll call the Dreambender?”
“He doesn’t need to,” Tyrone’s voice rang out, from the top of the stairs, near the viewing balcony. Thomas had never been as happy to see him as right now. “Are you going to invite me in, Thomas?”
“Yes,” Thomas said, immediately. “You’re welcome in the lab!”
“Good,” Tyrone said, and stalked down the stairway. Not-Hicks backed away at his approach, retreating to the circle between the lines.
Stupid, Thomas thought. The fail-safe binding only needed the push of a button and a drop of blood to activate, and it was the strongest kind of binding known to demonologists. That demon had trapped itself, it just didn’t know it yet.
At least, if that button hadn’t been disabled as well. But Tyrone was here now. He could trap that demon easily, free Hicks, fix this!
The button clicked. Thomas saw the missing lines in the floor slide into place and he had to smile, his heart racing. A drop of blood was all it took and the binding closed, glowing blue and burnished orange around the demon in the centre.
“Well done, Thomas,” Tyrone said. “It looks like we found our imposter.”
“Inside Hicks, yeah.” Thomas rubbed his face. “If it’s a medium or high-level one, it’s going to be difficult to get out without it ripping Hicks to pieces. Maybe… we still have some supplies from our project.”
A demon outside of a summoning circle was limited in how long they could remain in the physical world. They needed an anchor, either the sacrifices fueling their circle or a living body to inhabit. Alcor being the only known exception, again. With it possessing Hicks they couldn’t just wait out the duration, and banishing circles wouldn’t work as well either. Maybe the one Adams had come up with for the graduation ceremony, all those years ago. It was effective, but crude – it might drag Hicks’s soul out as well, together with the demon…
“The project? Yes. So we do.” Tyrone leaned next to Thomas, unpressed the button. The grooves slid back, the binding deactivating. “But I have a better idea.”
He smiled, slow and wide and terrible, and stalked towards the disabled binding circle.
The rest of his sentence was swallowed by the agonised screech, as Tyrone stuck a hand straight into Hicks’ chest and it returned with something red and green and struggling, tendrils of glowing light clinging to Hicks and snapping piece by piece as Tyrone pulled it closer to his suddenly gaping maw. Flashes of light tried to crystallise into scales, into wings, into a desperate pair of fangs that didn’t get a chance to fully form before they were all dragged into oblivion.
“Only a little one,” Tyrone said, when the light died somewhere in the back of his throat. Hicks was on the ground, physically unharmed but clearly knocked out. “Tasted like a coward.”
Thomas swallowed his own sudden terror and hurried to where Hicks had fallen, near the edge of the circle. He was still breathing, good. How long he’d been possessed, and what the effects on his soul and mind would be – stars, he needed to get Hicks to a hospital.
“He’s fine,” Tyrone said. “We were here to clear my name, weren’t we? Let’s do that first. Is this proof enough?”
“I – I guess,” Thomas said, and finally focused on the circle. He should probably make sure it was safe to leave behind for a moment, check if he had to dismantle it first. “I think – huh. Are you seeing what I’m seeing? Look at that…”
He moved closer to the chalk lines, still kneeling, barely daring to disturb them. “Is that what those other people used for their summonings? I mean, they make no sense! Those edges – those aren’t binding, I don’t know what they are. Denial, counterpoint, redirection – some kind of way to flip the meaning?”
Understanding dawned. Suddenly the oddly drawn sigils and decorative curls came into focus, pulled together in a way that was horrifyingly wrong. “This circle is a lie. The symbol is supposed to be in the centre, but here the actual summoning is hidden in the edges, where a binding should have been. Stars, this is – I don’t know what this is.”
“You really are very clever, aren’t you?” Tyrone said, looking over Thomas’ shoulder at this travesty of a summoning array. “Your teacher invented this.”
“Hicks did?” How did he know that? But - yes, Thomas could see it now. Disrupt the arcane flow from the centre, divert it to the edges – let it look like summoning one thing but actually calling another…Thomas bet he could guess when Hicks had cooked this up. About seven years ago, after his star students got kidnapped and were forced to summon a dangerous demon… “It was supposed to be the other way around, wasn’t it? It was supposed to look like something dangerous, but to actually call Alcor.”
You didn’t need a binding for Alcor. He would break them anyway.
“You see what this means?” he said, overwhelmed. ‘Summon bigger demon’ was never a good idea… unless you happened to be friends with the biggest one of them. If you happened to trust him. “Hicks does like you.”
“I suppose he does,” Tyrone said, rather flippantly. “But at least we know it’s solved now. The imposter is gone, my name is cleared. Let’s have a party.”
Thomas shook his head. The circle was inactive, he could leave it as it was for now. No one would stumble into the lab to accidentally activate it, and the demon it was supposed to call was gone. Should be safe enough. "We need to get Hicks to the hospital first. Let me call an ambulance."
Even a short possession by a low-level demon could leave lasting marks. Nightmares, at the least. Hopefully nothing worse than that.
A little voice in the back of his head was trying to get his attention, but Thomas ignored it in favour of taking out his phone. The emergency number was programmed in, so he only needed to -
"Wait," Tyrone said, and stole Thomas's phone from his hand in a quick movement. "Just a second. We need to talk."
"Yeah, we do, but it can wait -"
"No. It can't. Thomas, you doubted me."
A hot flash of guilt struck Thomas. He had. "Can you blame me? It looked really bad, Tyrone. But I did decide to trust you in the end, didn't I?"
"Still," Tyrone said, his face set in an expression Thomas couldn't quite parse. A bit too still. A bit too serious. "That hurt me, Thomas. You're supposed to be my friend, aren't you? So now I want you to prove it."
"What do you mean? And do we have to do this now?"
"Prove you trust me, after all this." Tyrone said. "Let me possess you."
Thomas looked at him.
"... what?"
"We've done it before," Tyrone said. "The project. If you're serious about being on my side, you'll let me possess you, here and now."
He still had Thomas's phone. But back on the viewing balcony was another one, kept for emergencies that weren't the 'evacuate the campus' kind.
Odd, how his first thought was about calling someone. His heart was racing, his mouth was dry, but he really wanted his phone back right now. As if it would help against a demon. No, in the lab they had other things for that. But against Alcor? Nothing he had down here would help in that case.
That little voice in the back of his mind was getting more insistent.
Hicks had invented that technique of flipping the summoning, Tyrone said. Thomas could believe that, sure. But… Why then did it look like he had gotten tricked by it? Something wasn’t adding up.
"You're still doubting me?" Tyrone said, and Thomas tried to keep his face as impassive as he did, but failed miserably.
"We need to get Hicks on his way to the hospital first," Thomas said. "I'm not doing anything before he is taken care of."
"I can take care of him right here and now, if you insist," Tyrone said, and his expression was neutral, his voice was friendly… yet the words still rang threateningly inside Thomas's head. "You're not leaving unless you prove you trust me, Thomas. You owe me this."
He was standing between Thomas and the staircase. Thomas slowly backed away and tried to make it look natural.
"Five minutes, and no longer?" Thomas tried. "Then we put all this behind us and you'll help me with Hicks, yes?"
"No. As long as I want," Tyrone said. He met Thomas's eyes. "Show you trust me."
His subtle movement towards the stairs hadn't been subtle enough. Tyrone seemed amused, and kept pace with Thomas, keeping between him and the only exit.
Demonology labs were legally required to only have one exit. If a demon broke loose, it had to be easier to contain. Which was all very sensible, unless you were the one trapped down there with it.
Tyrone could get creepy. He had his bad moments. But this?
No.
Thomas swallowed. "I don't know who you are, but you aren't my friend."
Not-Tyrone frowned. Affecting a hurt look for a second, before discarding it like just another mask and shrugging. "Suit yourself, Thomas. It would have been amusing to trick you into it, but I see you've decided to be difficult. Fine."
He gestured at Hicks’s crumpled form, and it came flying towards him, smacking on the floor. "Let me possess you, and I won't kill him."
Stars. No.
Thomas took a shaky breath, and squared his shoulders. The words felt like acid in his mouth. "Hicks is a professional demonologist. He'd be the first to tell me not to take this deal. He knows the risks."
"I wonder if you'd say the same about your precious other friends. And your sweet fiancée." Not-Tyrone smiled again. "By now they'll have met my friends."
Demons had such a flair for the dramatic. That was Thomas's wild, nonsensical thought when a group in robes slammed the door open as if on cue. Several of them came running down the stairs and grabbed him while another, in a fancier cowl, made a reverent bow before Not-Tyrone. "Everything is on schedule, my Liege."
"Gag him," Not-Tyrone said. "But leave him free to nod."
He slinked closer to Thomas, leaning into his personal space. "We have a deal to make, after all."
Red gloved hands pressed his nose and mouth closed. Arms were holding him tight, despite his struggles.
Thomas really, really hated cultists.
Any lingering doubts about this being Tyrone were long gone now. Had to be an illusion, or shapeshifting... stars, why hadn’t he called for Alcor while he could still speak? And what - what was happening to Elisha and his friends?
The demon answered his unspoken question, dark amusement colouring his voice. He still sounded like Tyrone. “Your pretty fiancée has been picked up at Les Ciseaux. Your friends were even easier to trap. They will be killed unless I give the signal not to, in – oh, what’s the time? About ten minutes? Tsk tsk, Thomas. You really should have come quicker. I told you to hurry.”
Les Ciseaux. How the demon knew that was where Elisha worked – how it knew all these things – damn it, Thomas couldn’t think like this! He needed time, he needed to breathe, and he got neither!
His head was starting to spin from lack of air.
“But since it looks like you don’t care about any of them, I’ll just kill this one first, shall I?” The demon said, and wandered over to the work bench to select one of the ritual knives. “Unless you change your mind about our deal, hm?” The knife’s edge glinted in the cold halogen lights. The cultists were silent, faceless figures in their dark red robes and masks. “You let me possess you, and your loved ones won’t be murdered tonight. What do you say, my friend? Do we have a deal? Just nod, that’s a good boy.”
Thomas closed his eyes, despair rising in his chest.
Hicks knew the hazards of this job. But Elisha, Brad, Maria, Eddy… did the demon really have them?
Could he take the risk?
There was no choice to be made. Not really.
Tyrone would find out about this. Of course he would. Maybe Thomas could find him, even – he’d never tested how far he could drift away from his body while it was being possessed. Eduardo had a bit of the Sight, maybe he could even see Thomas while he was disembodied. Tyrone definitely could. He’d come, and set things right.
He would.
The face in front of him warped, something red and horned phasing out of it. Thomas could just see a slack body falling down before his entire world turned into fire.
---
“Anyone else having a bad feeling about this?” Brad said.
The three of them were bound to their chairs, not only by whatever magic kept them glued to their seat but also by chains. Honest-to-god metal chains. Whatever demon this cult worshipped, it was an old-fashioned one. Weren’t plastic zip ties much cheaper? Less unwieldy, easier to carry?
“Relax,” Maria said. “We’ll get out of this.”
Their captors had cleared the dance floor, although the buggy smoke machine kept occasionally spewing a wispy cloud. It added to the ambience of miserable dread, Brad had to admit. “They’re drawing a summoning circle.”
“I see that, Brad.”
“I don’t,” Eddy said, because his back was to the dance floor. “Does it look bad?”
“They’re drawing a summoning circle and we’re their captives. I don’t need to paint you a picture, do I?”
“You’ve got that protection symbol from Alcor on your forehead, dude,” Eddy said, way too optimistically. “Maybe that will scare the demon off.”
“We should call for Tyrone,” Maria said.
“You can’t just call a demon and hope he just happens to hear you.”
“He just might hang around invisibly, you never know,” Eddy offered. “Although I guess he’d have intervened already, in that case. Nevermind.”
“I was actually thinking I could use the calling card in my wallet,” Maria said, rolling her eyes. “If I can only get a hand loose…“
She struggled a little. The chains didn’t budge.
“Guess we’ll have to wait until they untie us?”
“They’re not going to be complete idiots, Eddy,” Brad said.
“Maybe they are,” Maria said, surprised. She nodded in the direction of the dance floor. “Look who they’re calling.”
Brad’s stomach did a little flip. “That’s Alcor’s symbol.”
“Oof,” Eddy said. “Won’t they be embarrassed.”
Some of the cultists had green robes, others red. The group in red was setting up some kind of recording equipment – a large camera, aimed at the summoning circle the green guys were working on. None of them were wearing Alcor’s symbol anywhere.
But it was definitely a familiar winged star in the circle.
“There, problem solved,” Maria said. “He’ll show up and fix this.”
“Let’s just hope they don’t decide to slit our throats to activate that circle,” Eddy said. They stared at him. “What? Why would they use their own blood when they’ve got us? Gotta think economically, dude.”
“You’re both missing the point,” Brad said. The summoning circle, the camera, the cultists in their clashing robes... “This was planned. I don’t think it’s a coincidence they trapped us.”
“You think this is one big conspiracy?” Maria raised a sceptic eyebrow. “Why?”
“Think about it. Alcor killing innocents, the uptick in infernal activity recently. What if the whole Beast-versus-Star theory is true? And we’re his friends. Get rid of his weaknesses, right?”
“Don’t say that,” Maria snapped. “This wouldn’t be the first cult that summons Alcor without thinking it through.”
“Everyone knows he abhors human sacrifice, though,” Brad pressed on. “Or they should, after all the times others used it to fuel their binding circles and didn’t live to regret it. An inexperienced summoner trying it on Alcor, sure. But look how fast they’re drawing that array, these guys are pros.”
“You’re making a lot of assumptions here.”
Brad shook his head. “They’ve obviously done this before. They’ve drawn that circle before.”
“So what, you’re saying this is the dark mirror to the cult of the Dreamers’ Star?” Maria’s lips were a thin, angry line.
“It could be, yeah,” Brad said. He didn’t want to be right, but he was afraid he was. “I think they worship the Beast.”
Maria was shaking her head. “I’m not believing this until I see some proof, and ‘they look experienced’ doesn’t cut it.”
“Maria –“
“No!”
“I don’t know if Alcor is really going bad,” Eddy said, quietly. “But if he isn’t, having his friends get brutally murdered might yet do it.”
A heartbeat. Two.
Maria broke the sudden silence between them, with conviction in her voice. “Alright, we’re getting out of here. Any ideas?”
“None whatsoever.”
“I can still wriggle my feet a little?”
“I don’t see how that’ll help, Eddy.”
-------
How dare they.
How dare they?
The Mindscape twisted and rippled around Dipper as he moved past the realms of other demons, uncaring what destruction he left in his wake.
Itpolec hadn’t known any details. Only that Beëlzebob had been meeting with the other demons from the Safe Summons List and they were planning something that involved him. What exactly, and why Dipper hadn’t been able to destroy Chavazikel, he couldn’t say – and Dipper had asked very insistently.
He could guess, though. The frame job – Dipper didn’t know how, but at least now he knew who.
They would regret ever conspiring against him. Who did they think they were?
The summoning interrupted his seething and at first Dipper just wanted to throw the Answering Machine their way – but then he noticed how familiar it felt.
Thomas was calling for him?
With a little difficulty Dipper removed the void and golden lines from his skin, and put ‘Tyrone Evergreen’ back together. Thomas was already a little worried about him, he didn’t want to make it worse by appearing in his full raging glory. Not before he’d gotten the chance to clear his name, at least.
The summons came from the demonology lab. That was a good sign, wasn’t it? Probably meant that Hicks had gotten over this ridiculous idea of punishing Thomas for something he wasn’t responsible for and they had worked this out.
He popped into the circle without any fanfare.
“Hi,” Thomas said, on the outside of the token binding circle. He was alone, and the lab around him was messy. Looks like there had been more summonings today, Dipper mused. There was a tang of demonic essence in the air and chalk-stained cleaning rags in the corner. That wasn’t like Thomas or Hicks. They had to be pretty worried – good thing he was here to explain everything!
“Hi,” Dipper said. “Invited me into the lab today? Good! I’ve been asking around and I think I have this whole thing figured out.”
“You do?” Thomas asked. “Let’s hear it then.”
Dipper floated into a sitting position, hands on his knees. With Thomas’s help, getting his claws into those other demons would be easy. “The demons from the Safe Summons List are plotting against me. They’re working together. I don’t know how they’re doing this yet, but Beëlzebob is the one behind it.. If you can summon them one at a time, I don’t have to track them down and we can do a little i̝̹͎̮̥̯n̫̗ter̖̹r̝̰͖̪o̱̩̺g͎a̤̞̱̬̦͔ͅt͓i͓o̟̱̳̟̙̫ͅn̥.”
Thomas was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his expression was tense. “The Safe Summons List? That’s what you’re going with?”
“Er,” Dipper said. “Yes? Because it’s true?”
Thomas shook his head. "Those demons are weak. They're nobodies. And you expect me to believe that they would, what? Team up against you?"
"Well, yeah," Dipper said. "Thomas -"
"I want to believe you," Thomas said, and averted his eyes. "I really do. You're my friend. But... I don't know, Tyrone."
He went on before Dipper could do anything but stare at him, a sinking feeling in his stomach. "I have been talking with Hicks. He has agreed to let me return to my position. But there is one condition."
"That's great news," Dipper said.
"We need to be sure we can trust you," Thomas said. "Really sure. A... failsafe, of sorts. Since you can't be bound in any other way... Alcor, you need to give me your name."
Dipper stilled.
"Your true name," Thomas said. "Only as a precaution. It's the only way they'll give me my job back, Tyrone. Please. You owe me this."
The silence felt heavy enough to smother them.
"You've made a mistake," Dipper said, and the words felt like ash in his mouth. "Ruining my reputation is one thing, but you hurt my friend, Beëlzebob."
‘Thomas’ looked at him. "Oh," he sighed. "It was worth a shot. What gave it away?"
"Get out of his body and I might go easy on you."
"Oh, Alcor," ‘Thomas’ said. "You still have no clue, do you? You're not in control here."
“Aren’t I?” Dipper snarled, and easily broke through the binding circle. “Don’t bother running.”
“I won’t,” ‘Thomas’ said. “Are you going to try and rip me out? While I’m intertwined so nice and tight with this poor little soul? Go ahead. Oh, but before you do, you might want to turn on that screen.”
“No distractions,” Dipper said, reaching out a clawed hand.
‘Thomas’ didn’t try to flee. His smile only widened. “You’re not wondering what I’ve done to the rest of your friends?”
Dipper paused. Growled, and against all better judgement he flicked on the computer screen on the workbench. It was supposed to show the recordings made by the lab camera. Apparently someone had changed the settings, because a browser opened up, set to a news website. Headlines scrolled past.
Alcor cult hijacks plane.
Alcor cult live-streams human sacrifices from unknown location.
Alcor cult causes destruction in Eugene, Oregon.
Only national headlines, though. He was suddenly, irrationally glad that Mabel’s current incarnation wanted little to do with him.
‘Thomas’ flicked his fingers, and the headlines were replaced by a new view. A steady video image of people in red and green robes in a smoky bar, three painfully familiar captives bound at one of the tables. A summoning circle with a hovering winged figure.
“If you leave here, I will devour this soul and leave only the body alive,” ‘Thomas’ said. “Maybe you can still stop some of this, who knows? You are powerful. But however this ends, I have won. I can’t kill you. I know that. But you have other weaknesses, Dreambender, and they are so, so easy to destroy. After this, no one will summon you anymore.”
----
Elisabeth pressed her back into her seat, fingers clenched around the armrests, and cursed the airport regulations that had made her leave her knives and other demonology supplies in her main suitcase. Way back in the plane’s cargo hold. There was nothing useful in her carry-on!
She really wanted to know how those hijackers had managed to sneak in their weapons. Two of them were waving guns around, as if shooting those inside a pressurised cabin wasn’t a death sentence for everyone if they shot out a window by accident. The rest was busy with zip ties, tying up passengers and crew and confiscating everyone’s phones.
The door to the pilots had been closed, emergency protocol apparently, but the main hijacker was threatening to kill everyone on this plane unless the pilots did what they asked. Because of course they would.
[Any ideas?] The Alcor Virus asked. [Or shall I just call dad?]
[Don’t you think these people are panicking enough?] she snarked back, but then her eyes caught how the hijackers started to put on thick black robes, and some of them started drawing an obvious summoning circle on the door to the pilots’ cabin.
She angled her phone towards it.
[That circle is wrong.] The Alcor Virus said. [I’m calling dad!]
The symbol in the centre of the circle was familiar. [I think they’ve got that covered.]
Hands grabbed at her roughly, pulling her phone away and tying her up. “Hey!”
“Shut up,” the cultist growled, and pushed her back into her seat as he moved on to the next victim. His friend with the gun mimicked a shot to Elisabeth’s face before following.
“Remember how you wanted to learn how to fly a plane?” she called out, because that circle was wrong somehow and she wasn’t trusting it. “Now’s your chance!”
“I said, shut up!”
Great. They had duct-tape as well.
----
“I can still fix this,” Dipper said, while ‘Thomas’ turned off the screen again with a flick of his wrist. “I just have to destroy you first.”
‘Thomas’ tapped his chin. “That sounds like you want to interfere in a deal.”
“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Dipper said, and struck. It was risky – Beëlzebob was strong enough to keep a tight hold on Thomas, so while brute force could work that might hurt Thomas too, he had to be quick and decisive –
He utterly failed to even grasp either soul. His hand just froze before making contact.
“See, you can’t,” ‘Thomas’ said, dark amusement in his voice. “Not unless you break your own end of the deal. Don’t you remember?”
----
The smoke machine belched another little cloud. The camera buzzed. Someone had switched out the background music, from something jazzy to this dramatic choir business.
“Do you think those robe colours mean anything?” Eddy mused. “The red and the green?”
Brad tried to shrug. His chains jingled. “Different ranks, maybe.”
“Hm.” Maria raised her voice and called out, “Hey, boss! Can we at least get an explanation before you kill us?”
“Don’t draw their attention,” Brad groaned, trying to disappear in his seat.
Maria shot him a dry look. “Like they don’t know that we’re here?”
The cultists were busy with their preparations, but the bartender did wander over, looking down imperiously at them from underneath his gold-rimmed hood. “You fell into our trap, of course. Now you’re going to be sacrificed to our master, the great –“
“Hey, don’t talk to the sacrifices,” another one snapped, this one dressed in red with an ornate black belt. “You know your orders.”
Maria glanced at Brad and Eddy before looking back at the bartender.
“Oh, sorry,” she said, innocently. “I thought you were in charge.”
“I am,” the bartender said. “I own this place. You’re not giving me any orders, buddy.”
“We don’t have time for this,” the one in red said. “You need to get these sacrifices in place and I need to lead the summoning.”
“Wow,” Eddy said. “That’s an important job, dude. Wonder what riches the demon will grant you for this.”
“Aw come on,” Brad said. “Look at him, he’s not going to lead the summoning himself, obviously.”
“Why not?” Maria said. “My boss can’t, he would let a demon walk all over him. I mean, he even lets this random guy order him around.”
“Random guy? More like, the most important guy here, right dudes? Not everyone gets a belt that fancy.”
“I see what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work,” the man in red said, but the bartender was frowning.
“Just you wait a minute,” he said. “Why exactly do you get to do the summoning?”
“It doesn’t matter who does it!”
“Fine, so if it doesn’t matter, then let me do it.”
“I’m his high priest!”
“And I’m her high priest, what’s your point? We’re summoning neither today, so I don’t see why you get to be on camera while I get nothing!”
“Yeah, you can’t just ask my boss here to stand around and look pretty,” Maria added. “I mean, that’s a lost cause.”
“You shut your mouth!”
Two high priests. Two cults, apparently. Brad tried to make sense of it. This wasn’t an Alcor cult after all? But… that made no sense.
“Why are you summoning Alcor?” he blurted out. “You’re going to kill us, we might as well know, right?”
“Orders,” the one in red answered. He glared at the bartender. “We all have our orders. You’ve got a problem with that, complain to your demon. We need to get started. It’s showtime.”
“That didn’t work,” Maria sighed, as the two high priests stomped away and other cultists came to drag them closer to the circle, chairs and all. Nicely within grabbing distance of whatever demon would show up in there.
“It was worth a try,” Eddy said. “Oh, they’re booting up the camera.”
“Damn.” Maria sounded a bit muffled, as she’d been thrown facedown on the ground. “That means it’s starting.”
Brad shook his head. His chair had tipped sideways, and the weight of the backrest pressing on his bound arm wasn’t exactly comfortable. Not like he was going to have to suffer this for much longer. “I’m sorry I pestered you to get an actual job. If I hadn’t, this might not have happened. Or, you know, we might at least be getting murdered in a better location. I’m sorry your boss turned out to be a cult leader.”
“Pff, what? I’m not sorry. Don’t you see what this means?” Maria said. “When we get out of here – and we will – that guy is going to jail for a looooong time. If he’s lucky. Might even need to sell this bar to afford his legal fees and all. I always wanted my own bar.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“A girl’s gotta dream, Brad.”
“We’ll get out of here,” Eddy said. “But dudes, just in case we don’t… I’m kinda glad we’re at least together? I mean, I never wanted you guys to die with me, but you know. Thanks for being my friends.”
“You too, Eddy,” Brad said, quietly.
Maria made a frustrated noise. “Don’t be so fatalistic, guys. It’s Alcor. We’re surviving this.”
“What do you see?” Brad asked, since Eddy was the only one sitting upright in the direction of the summoning circle. “Is it starting yet?”
“… yeah. Looks like those two high priests have stopped arguing. It’s starting.”
“Good,” Maria said, and Brad wished he could feel her absolute certainty too. “Keep us updated, Eddy.”
“No need, little miss loud-mouth,” a cultist said, from suddenly way too close and holy shit, had they been listening to each word? The green-robed woman pulled Maria’s chair upright before doing the same to Brad. “You’ll all have a first row view on this show. The public wants to see your terrified little faces, after all.”
The incantation was… odd. Brad had kept far away from anything demonology-related since his graduation, with the only exception being Tyrone, and even he found the summoning invocation too vague. The ancient sumerian was easy to pronounce, sure, because it was so short. It didn’t call for any specific demon – it just opened up the circle and fished around. “Guys, am I translating this right?”
He didn’t get an answer, because that’s when the circle activated.
A winged, void-dark figure appeared.
-----
Agony.
He could only watch, helplessly, from behind his eyes. Couldn't even blink to soften the stinging in them. The demon nestled up to his soul kept a tight rein on any movement - a puppeteer, a spider in its web.
The project hadn't prepared him for this.
Tyrone had gone easy on him, Thomas knew that. Possession would never be fun, but the drifting around without a body had still been so, in a way. Painless at least.
Beëlzebob didn't grant him that freedom. He kept Thomas in a stranglehold, and his amusement and glee at every pained and desperate twitch of Thomas's soul was unmistakable.
"What do you mean?" Tyrone asked, glaring. His human disguise was fracturing, overtaken by darkness and burning golden lines. "What deal would I be breaking?"
"The one you m̨ade ̴he͠r̀e, of course," Thomas heard his own voice say, demonic reverb twisting his vocal chords. "You know, for someone whose entire job involves demon deals, the teacher was careless. I prefer my deals written down. That doesn't mean I can't make a purely verbal one. He forgot that little fact, and then, Tyrone, my f̟̫͙̭͎̗̻r̗̰̱i͟e͓̼̗̬̗ͅn̯̤͕̭͖͞ͅd̼̯̬̪͈͈͟, I had him. He was surprisingly useful too. Even got you to agree to a little deal that you r͔e̯̫͉͓̦a̮̭̺͉̤̝͍l̳ly̤̞̮̼ ͓s͎̝͖̼h̼̯o̠͇͕̩̻ul̖͍ͅd̻̞̰̫͍̖͎n̻͕̪ͅ'̬ṯ̭̰ ̰̮̩̠̤ͅh̲a̫v̯e̳̗̱̫̠."
"The Safe Summons List," Tyrone growled. "That again!"
"Indeed. You can't do anything against me, as long as I'm fulfilling my end of deals made in this building. And I've made many. You are so easily distracted after all. Even those weak vermin could do it. A little attack here, a little stalling there..."
"You're wrong," Tyrone said. He was clenching his fingers. "You're not on the Safe Summons List, Beëlzebob. That deal doesn't apply to you."
Thomas wanted to scream at him to go, Elisha and the others were in danger, why was Tyrone still here when it was so obvious Beëlzebob was stalling! But the only sound he made was a soft laugh.
"Aren't I?" His voice said, and his arm gestured at the workbench. A drawer slid open and the little black book levitated to his hands. "Look again."
The use of magic felt like acid coursing through Thomas' veins. His body was not made to channel that kind of power... It was getting harder to think. He needed - he needed to be alert, look for some way to help Tyrone, to help everyone...
What had Beëlzebob said again?
You let me possess you, and your loved ones won’t be murdered tonight.
Tonight.
That’s why he was stalling. If Beëlzebob could keep this going until midnight, technically it would be tomorrow. He could easily kill them all and keep Thomas' body in his possession.
Thomas scraped his strength together, all too aware how it was fading. He needed to let Tyrone know. Tyrone should leave, save the others, before they would all lose!
"Hicks added you to the list? Seriously?" Tyrone said. "I feel kinda insulted now. Sounds like they let just anyone join these days."
"Be as flippant as you want, Dreambender. What are you going to do about it?"
"Well, I can just break the deal. Get this over it."
Thomas's face twisted into an unpleasant smile again. "I know a bluff when I hear it. Breaking a deal has repercussions, even for you. We are all bound by our words, aren't we? By our own power. Poor Dreambender, such a dilemma for you to solve."
"You're going to regret this."
"Ah, threats. Now you're speaking my language."
GET OUT TYRONE!
His face didn't even twitch. The demon coiling around his soul tightened his grip.
Thomas... Thomas was so tired.
"What did you do to Hicks?" Tyrone asked, as if this whole situation wasn't horribly time-sensitive. "You tricked him, obviously. But now you haven't got a use for him anymore, right?"
"He was a good little hostage," Thomas’ voice said, dismissively. "Who knows, he might even survive."
“Where is he?”
“Oh, you know. Around.”
"I am going to destroy you for this, you know that, right?"
"Probably. But you still don't get it, Dreambender. I. Don't. Care." He snarled now. "You think you're so powerful, so great? You do whatever you want? You can destroy me, but you won't destroy what I stand for. I'm just the first of many. Even the biggest of predators has to bow to overwhelming odds, and now they all know y̟̹o͇̘̖͖͎u̯̖̗̮̠̮̙ ̠̳͖̬h͈̼̞̘̞̬a̯̭v̩e͙ ͇̫a͈ͅ ̘͕̮̫͔͉w̹̰e̮a͎̺͔̠̟̜k͖̞̜̯̼ͅn̥̘͓̝̲͔̼e̪̰̦̹͓ͅs̹̯s͙̝̟̰."
Tyrone pounced. The struggle threw Thomas on the unforgiving stone floor, jarring his entire body - well, it already felt like death anyway - and wrenching the official hardcopy of the Safe Summons List from his hands.
"Ha!" Tyrone said. "Now I’ll just erase your name and it's over for you, Bob!"
"Only faculty members can add or erase names from the Safe Summons List," Thomas heard his voice say - unfortunately correct. "You would know that, if you ever paid attention."
"Then I'll destroy the whole book," Tyrone said.
"Technically not the same as erasing a name. But hey, give it a try! Meanwhile I'll just entertain myself, hm?" With another agonising pulse of infernal magic, the ritual knives levitated from their storage block and danced around Thomas. "How many fingers does a human need anyway?"
"Don't," Tyrone said, stilling now. “Please.”
The little bit of Thomas that still lingered could only cringe at Tyrone's voice. No, no, don't give up now... just leave...
"Oh?" Beëlzebob sat upright and drew a knife from the air next to him. He clenched Thomas's hand around the bare blade. The sting was negligible compared to everything else, but a rivulet of blood still dripped down. "Or what?"
Tyrone looked as demonic as Thomas had ever seen him, all darkness and claws and golden fire - but the shoulders were hunched, the wings drooping. Beaten. "What do you want from me, Beëlzebob? I'll make a deal with you. Just... don't do this."
"Your misery is all I want, Dreambender."
"There's got to be something," Tyrone pushed. "Thomas? Thomas, you're listening, right?"
"Better speak quickly," Beëlzebob sneered. "Because when that clock hits twelve, I’m not leaving anything left of his soul. So weak. I don't know why you bother with mortals, really."
"Thomas, don't say anything if you agree," Tyrone said, urgently. "But our next friendship day. I'd like it to be the first of the month, starting at midnight."
"Friendship day?" Beëlzebob mocked. "You're pathetic, Alcor. I don't know why I ever feared you."
"Yeah," Tyrone said. "I'm pathetic. But how much more wretched does that make you?"
The clock struck twelve.
Too late, Thomas thought, unravelling. Tyrone let himself get stalled for too long. His friends were dying, and Elisha... and who knows what the demon would do now, without any limits on its possession...
"That's the deal," Tyrone said, as the clock ticked past the twelve. "It's the new day of the month. My day."
Beëlzebob frowned. "What?"
"Right, Hicks didn't know about that part, did he?" Tyrone said, now advancing on Thomas's body. "I get one day of Thomas's time, for an activity of my choosing. I’m picking possession, which is an activity he already agreed upon before… Oops, looks like we both have a claim on him! So I guess we can just b͇͓̥a̖̲̺̬̰̗t̹̥t͓̯̫̟̲̝l̯͎̤͕͎̱̮e̱͙̦̲ ̟̺̖̣͙t͍̘̞͎̱̲͈̹h͉̘̮͇̪̞i̯͔̞̩͓͓̞s̹̲̯ ̬̰o͇u͓̥t̳͎̰̳̥̰̼͍͚.”
-----
The demon that appeared in the circle did look like Alcor, Elisabeth had to agree.
But that wasn't her biggest concern at the moment. The plane making loops and flying upside down held slightly more of everyone's attention.
The Alcor Virus was going to crash this plane, wasn’t he? On the upside, most of the cultists were preoccupied right now by trying not to faceplant against the walls, floor, and occasionally ceiling.
The demon was the only constant, floating as it did, while the insides of the plane turned and twisted around them. The passengers were all tied up in their seats, firmly with their seatbelts on. The hijackers weren't so lucky.
Some of the overhead bins had gotten unlocked by the rough flight, and several carry-ons tumbled through the plane. One brained the cultist next to Elisabeth, while another fell straight through the demon hanging there.
Its shape shivered, and for a moment the voidblack skin and lines of fire appeared to fade, showing - huh.
Another demon.
Right.
A gunshot rang out, but when that failed to make the plane explode Elisabeth put it out of her mind. Oxygen masks tumbled down, which wasn’t very useful since all the passengers were still tied up. She hoped they had just been released as a precaution, and not because they were really necessary… Well, she wasn’t going to die here, damn it!
The cultists weren't happy either with the sudden turn of events. The demon screeched - not a sound she'd ever heard Alcor make, it sounded more like a motorised drill than anything else.
Alcor wouldn't do this. Definitely not to her, he knew she had his True Name. So, logically, this wasn't Alcor at all.
She tested the zip ties. This wasn't the first time someone had used these on her. That first demon experience in that damned basement had been horrifying and traumatic - but let no one say she hadn't learned something from it.
Zip ties could be broken.
Her wrists were not going to thank her after this. As soon as she got loose, Elisabeth undid her seatbelt and grabbed the cultist next to her, while the plane did another barrel roll before going in a steep dive. He had a gun, she'd seen how he had a gun - oof, he was heavy.
There, now she had a gun. Still horribly outnumbered, still in a pressurised cabin with a bunch of hostages and an unknown demon on the loose. Great. What she needed was a knife.
The cultist she'd wrestled with was starting to recover from the sudden suitcase to the head. He lunged for her, but she was free now, and another lucky twitch of the plane gave her just enough momentum to evade him. His yell was drowned out by the screaming from the rest of the passengers, because what did they expect, people to stay calm and collected while faced with not one but two horrible ways to die?
Hmpf. Amateurs.
She moved closer to the pilots' door, where the demon was. The closer she got, the more obvious it was that this wasn't the Dreambender. It looked... off. And Alcor wouldn't just hang there, listening to screams of terror and waiting. He would have done something.
Another sharp movement of the plane. The pink carry-on she managed to avoid - the guitar case however hit her full-on and knocked the breath out of her. Oof!
At least it had knocked her into the summoner, who until now had managed to hang on to the front row seat. He lost his grip and smacked into the wall next to the demon.
What the hell was going on with that binding circle? It looked like it wouldn’t hold a fly! Another point in the ‘not Alcor’ column, he would never stay nicely between those shaky lines.
Elisabeth grabbed onto the empty seat. Looked at the demon, ripped the duct-tape from her face, and made a wild guess.
“Freghnup, Scourge of Teeth,” she screamed, over the cacophony of the rest of the plane. “I want to make a deal with you!”
The demon looked at her. Its appearance twitched again. “That’s not my name.”
“Sure it isn’t,” Elisabeth said. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but you want to be gone before the real Alcor shows up.”
“He’s not going to, he’s currently preoccupied,” the demon said, and flinched as it realised it had given itself away. “No, no, I am the real Dreambender. Shiver and despair!”
A cultist tried to interrupt her conversation but was slammed against the bulkhead by another roll of the plane. Elisabeth nearly lost her handhold and just barely managed to stay in place. The Alcor Virus must be having fun.
“You know who’s flying this plane?” she said. “The Alcor Virus. It’s here. Its creator will be soon, as well. You don’t want to escalate this.”
“It’s too late,” the demon said, and its expression was almost bleak. “I’m in too deep. And it’s almost midnight.”
Screw talking. She’d just spotted the summoner’s knife. Now where were the markers those idiots had used to draw this circle?
Good thing she had so much experience with banishment symbols.
“I can’t let you do that,” the demon said, suddenly focusing swirling white eyes on her.
“That’s why I’m doing this from outside the binding circle,” she snapped, trying to keep her balance while the plane shook again. It distracted the cultists, sure, but right now she needed a steady hand!
“But mortal…” the demon said, almost too quiet to hear. “Tḩát isn̨’t a҉ ̕bind̨in͝g ͘ci͠rcle͢.”
A chill crawled over Elisabeth’s spine.
That was also the moment the plane dipped into an almost vertical spin, so against all odds she did have something more urgent to worry about.
-----
“Thomas? Thomas!”
------
He didn’t even look at them. He just floated silently between the sigils, listening to the cult leader's monologue about ‘honouring their master’ and ‘a gift to prove their allegiance’ and more worrying rambling.
“Ty-“
“Don’t use his name,” Maria interrupted in a whisper, before Brad could get more than a syllable out. “We don’t know where they’re streaming that video.”
“I think getting out of this mess is a bit more important than trying to protect his alter ego,” Brad hissed back. They had bigger problems right now than Tyrone Evergreen being revealed to the greater public! “His name might snap him out of this.”
“Yeah, but… I don’t think that’s him,” Eddy said, with that slightly unfocused look he got when he was Seeing things. “Those wings look kinda feathery to me.”
“Demons can shapeshift,” Brad said. “He can look however he likes.”
“Eddy, what does this one look like?”
“My Sight isn’t that good, dude.”
“But it’s not him? Then we can call him!” Maria started muttering Alcor’s invocation.
Brad hoped against all reason that Tyrone actually was listening. But you needed more than just some magic words to summon a demon, unfortunately.
When Tyrone or Alcor completely failed to appear, Maria cursed. “There’s got to be something we can do.”
“Too bad Tyrone doesn’t have a cult radar, huh dudes?” Eddy said, with a shaky smile.
“Right,” Maria said, as if something was dawning on her. “He doesn’t. Xyler craz aoshima -”
The summoner stopped talking, with a wide gesture towards their chairs. An offering kind of gesture.
“- chrysler saab toyota –“
“Looks like we’re out of time,” Brad said, and swallowed. “Goodbye.”
“- cultists crasher, rainbow basher –“
The demon turned towards them. A poison green light flared in its eyes as it spread its claws at them, greedily –
“- I wish for the best car ever!”
The dramatic chanting got drowned out by the sound of eardrum-shattering pop music and a revving engine. A familiar revving engine.
“Oh,” Brad breathed, as the demon gaped at the colourful car it was suddenly sharing a circle with. “Thomas mentioned it does that sometimes.”
Rainbow Basher narrowed her headlights, the flashing lights bouncing from her becoming an ominous red.
“What?” the demon said, and promptly got run over.
“Isn’t that Flaga the Eagle-Winged?” Eddy said, as the Alcor disguise flickered away.
“Looks like it,” Maria said. “Huh.”
Brad could only stare in sudden, overwhelming emotion. They were going to live! But… a small question still niggled him. “Why exactly do you know the invocation for Thomas’ car?”
Maria smiled, wide and relieved and suspiciously innocent. “Oh, no reason.”
They watched as Rainbow Basher barreled around the room, leaving tire tracks on the floor, the walls, and everything else she could reach. She turned back to the demon and the upbeat music bursting from her became lower pitched and more menacing.
Flaga the Eagle-Winged got up from the floor and growled. ”I ̴d̛id ͜not ̧s̵i͏g̷n̵ up f͞o͢r̴ t̟͇̀hi̹s̢͎̱.”
She disappeared.
Rainbow Basher paused for a second. Then she turned around and focused her attention on the cultists, who were clearly starting to regret their life decisions up to this point.
----
Hands on his shoulders, shaking him.
He blurrily opened his eyes.
“Make a deal with me,” the shape leaning above him said, and Thomas cried out a little and tried to roll away. Tried being the key word.
Everything hurt.
“I can’t heal you without a deal,” Tyrone said. Was it Tyrone? “Please.”
Thomas moved his mouth. The words felt like they were dragged from some dark pit inside of him. “Elisha.”
“I’m okay,” said a voice he hadn’t expected here, and her hand was almost unbearably warm against his skin. “They never got me. I found your note and tried to call you.”
“Maria, Brad and Eddy are safe too,” Tyrone added. “Rainbow Basher got them. It’s over, Thomas.”
“Beëlzebob?”
“Fled, the coward.”
He closed his eyes again. Elisha was here. His friends were safe.
It was okay.
“What’s wrong with him?” he heard Elisha ask. “Was the knife poisoned?”
“That’s just a cut, he’s fine physically. This is an injury to the soul,” Tyrone answered, sounding nearby and oh so far away at the same time. “Beëlzebob did this on purpose. Thomas, you need my help. But it’s – I can’t do this for free. Not this. Offer me something. Let me make this deal.”
The words slipped in and out of his hearing. The world was shattered around him, every thought splintered glass.
They were okay. Everyone was okay.
That was important.
“- have a deal,” Tyrone said, so very distant.
Starlight knitted the world back together. Thomas opened his eyes properly, and sat up with a suddenly pounding heart. Elisha was kneeling next to him, her dress stained with chalk and blood from the dirty floor. He’d never seen her this dishevelled. Without thinking he threw his arms around her and held on tight until the rest of the world started to make sense again.
“How did you get here?” he asked, his face buried in her hair but who needed to breathe right now? “Are you hurt?”
“I’m fine, Thomas,” she said, letting him hold on for as long as he needed. “They tried to catch me but The Car stopped them. Then I had to wait for the police to arrive, and you wouldn’t pick up your phone…”
Now he was the one holding her.
He was going to give The Car something nice, he decided. New wheels, or whatever it wanted. A nice sacrifice. Anything.
Someone cleared their throat. Thomas looked up at Tyrone’s stressed out face.
“I’m sorry for stalling,” his friend said. “But he had a claim and I didn’t and that stupid clause wasn’t enough because your soul was in danger but not your life and - and this was the only way I could think up to muddle up the terms of his deal enough to… I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker.”
“We’ll talk about this later,” Thomas said. Ouch, his voice was hoarse. From the demonic reverb? “His cultists took Hicks with them, I don’t know where. He was possessed as well, not sure for how long. He needs help.”
“I’m on it,” Tyrone promised. “This won’t happen again, Thomas.”
“No,” Thomas said, and gingerly got to his feet. The little black notebook was around here somewhere – ah. There. “It won’t. Do you have a pen?”
The Safe Summons List was several pages long. He doggedly crossed out each and every page, all the names, all the deals involved to get them on board.
Safe? What a joke.
Beëlzebob was at the very end, last but one. Thomas scribbled that name out with extreme prejudice, until only Alcor the Dreambender remained.
Tyrone met his eyes, understanding.
“Happy hunting,” Thomas said, and didn’t regret a thing.
Headcannon that at some point, Rainbow Basher runs away, and some poor person gets the time of their life teleporting from cult to cult, because they think it's their Uber.
That sounds like the recipe for a delicious crackfic and I’m so here for it.
Additional idea: what if the Rainbow Basher actually did drive off and join a rideshare service like Lyft or Uber. Just for the fun of it. She’s very good at getting people where they need to go, although there might be the occasional stop at a horrific cult meeting, and she might break traffic laws more often than not.
A prompt I'm willing to bet nobody will try: A romantic fic involving David & Sarah's Zombiemobile, and Mabel's Truck, as the only Sort-of-technically-living things left on earth.
How many sentient cars are there? And who were their original owners?
RN there’s two that I know of
The Rainbow Basher, who was made for Mabel, and is currently driven by Thomas. And then there is the one, the only, The Car, originally driven by Sarah and David, currently driven by Elisha.
HeadCrack: One time somebody tried to impound The Car. Only once.
The mods online are not sure who made Rainbow Basher (if that’s what (who?) you’re referring to!), so we can’t say for certain. If anyone knows who created it (We know dementor_sscused it in their fic), please let us know!
In my personal opinion though... that sounds like a wonderful story and I pity the person who’s manning the tow truck.
