Mabel’s sitting on the couch. She’s in the Shack, a scratchy warm blanket across her legs, her knitting needles clack-clack-clacking as something plays on the TV. There’s voices coming from the kitchen--Henry, she thinks, and one of the kids… Acacia, probably. What did Mom say last Christmas?
“Wow, Mabel, she’s certainly got her volume from you!”
“Last Christmas?” Normal-Mabel’s earrings jangle as she tilts her head. “Is that really the last time you saw Mom?”
Clack-clack-clack, go Mabel’s knitting needles. It’s like she’s a kid again, watching Saturday morning cartoons with her brother; no children to chase after, no worries except what episode’s on next, no bleeding walls to clean up or forks to pick out of Dipper’s arms-
“Whoa, back up,” said Normal-Mabel. “What was that last bit again?”
In fact, it’s so peaceful, so relaxing that it hits her: no, this isn’t right, is it? She can hear Acacia, she should see if Henry needs some help-
“Whoa, whoa!” Normal-Mabel put a hand on her shoulder. “Your Henry’s fine, don’t worry! He told you to relax!”
Mabel looks up at Normal-Mabel. She grins a sparkling smile, and holds up a cast covered in signatures.
“My Henry told me the same thing. He’s such a dreamboat, isn’t he?” With a chuckle, she points to his tiny message. “Gotta work on his penmanship, though. I mean, seriously, I gave him all my glittery pens and he chose dark blue?! You’re not signing a tax return, silly!”
Slowly, Mabel looks down at her own cast. Clack-clack-clack, go the sound of knitting needles. She blinks. “I’m dreaming.”
“Yeah, doy.” Normal-Mabel ruffles her hair. “You’re on, like, a ton of drugs. How’d you hurt your arm that bad? All I did was fall out of a tree trying to rig up my flying Waddles contraption for the kids!”
Flying Waddles contraption; hah, that’s something she could ask Dipper to do with a snap of his fingers. She actually did once ask him to give Waddles wings, but, typical Waddles, he was too interested in napping to use them.
“I guess pigs can fly,” Willow had giggled, “They just don’t want to!”
“Aww, that’s a cute story!”
Mabel stares at Normal-Mabel. It seems, at first, like there’s hardly a difference between them at all; she’s wearing the same ‘FUN MOM’ pink sweater, the same sparkly smile that hurts her cheeks on good days. She’s even got a few of the same wrinkles.
“Ruude,” Normal-Mabel crosses her arms. “I’ve got kids too, you know!”
But not the same scars.
“Oh, yeah?” Normal-Mabel rolls up her sweater. “What about our C-section? That’s pretty gnarly.”
Mabel looks down. With her good hand, she grasps the blanket, and pulls it away. Normal-Mabel gasps.
“Oh my stars, Mabel, are you okay? What happened?!”
“That’s… that’s why I went to the hospital, I think.” Mabel looks down at the gaping wound in her chest, the rip in her sweater stained blood-red. “I went cultbashing and… and they got me really bad. Dipper had to…” Her breath stops. “He had to take my soul. There was no other way, I-I was gonna…”
Normal-Mabel’s gone pale as a ghost; her hands are over her mouth as she stands speechless. She looks like she’s going to be sick, and Mabel tries for a smile.
“But… but it’s okay, he saved me! Dipper saved me!” She looks at her cast, and snorts. “And I guess I broke my arm as well, I didn’t realise. The, hah, the things you don’t notice when you’re bleeding to death, am I right?”
“That’s horrible!” Normal-Mabel manages. Her eyes are wet with tears.
“Hey, hey, it’s fine, I’m fine!” Mabel puts up her hands. “That’s just… it was bound to happen sometime. That’s the kind of life we live, right?”
“Not we!”
“No, I-I mean, me and Dipper. Mizar and Alcor, that whole cultbashing stuff. Not we as in…”
Mabel trails off. It’s hard to look at Normal-Mabel all of a sudden; that wide-eyed horror feels so childish to her, now… but isn’t that how anyone would react to what had happened to her? Isn’t that how anyone would react to this world of blood and souls and demons and murder, her world?
Anyone normal, at least.
“Is that why you call me that?”
Mabel zeroes in on Normal-Mabel’s cast, counts the signatures. She can’t raise her eyes any higher.
“Normal Mabel,” says Normal-Mabel. “Is that really what you think of me?”
“What I think of you?” Mabel scoffs. “You’re acting like that’s a bad thing.”
Oh, come on. We’ve never wanted to be normal!”
“Yeah, but there’s normal, like, I dunno, being an accountant, a-and there’s normal like not getting stabbed by a cultist!” Mabel scowls. “And you know that! You were acting like it’s soooo horrifying to have my life a second ago, so good news, you don’t! You’re normal, okay? You’ve got your stupid normal life where Mom and Dad can babysit, and you’ve never had to kill anybody, and your Dipper’s not probably having a breakdown in the Mindscape right now that you’re gonna have to deal with… you’ve got it good, okay! Trust me, you don’t want my life!”
“Yeah, but…” And suddenly blood is soaking Normal-Mabel’s sweater. She looks down, and then meets her glare with a sad, tired smile. “I don’t really exist, do I? So it doesn’t really matter what I want.”
“So none of this matters?” Mabel makes a face. “Man, why couldn’t I have a fun fever dream?”
“Sorryy. We could talk about something fun if you like!”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah! Ask me anything!”
Mabel thinks for a moment. She glances down at her cast, at all the signatures she vaguely remembered people doing while she was in the hospital. But there’s one big blank part on the front; oh, yeah. She’d wanted to save that part.
Running a hand across that empty space, Mabel smiles. “So, how’s Dipper in your world? Does he end up doing that ghost hunting show he always wanted?”
And she waits, but only silence answers her. When she can't bear it any longer she looks up, and sees Normal-Mabel turned away, her hand covering her trembling mouth, her eyes welling with wordless tears.
All Mabel can do is nod. “Yeah,” she breathes. “That makes sense.”
Playing human again, Alcor makes it longer than he usually does. He's in college now, juggling classes, family, a curious vampire, and a strange, increasingly sinister web of mysteries weaving themselves around him. Without his omniscience to guide the way, he'll have to work hard to get to the bottom of this before it spirals out of control.
Big Pine, California had not been a bustling city before the Transcendence. A sleepy settlement nestled against the snowcapped Palisades, it had been sheltered from the blast that turned the rest of Inyo County into an archipelago.
(Even the big tree it had been named for survived the Incident, which would have delighted Alcor if it hadn’t technically been a sequoia. The universe just loved ruining things for him, didn’t it?)
Because it remained so intact, it ended up a staging ground for rescue efforts, a temporary--soon permanent--regional capital, and a popular spot for displaced locals to settle into. With the obliteration of Los Angeles and its thirsty aqueducts, the Owens Lake filled again, and over the years its population swelled to the tens of thousands.
It wasn’t a megacity by any means, but to Dipper, living in the woods thirty minutes from a grocery store, going here always felt like Vegas. It was where they always went for stuff you couldn’t get in town--crematory parts, nice birthday gifts… neurologists.
And so, once again, Dipper found himself sitting in a colourful waiting room with his mother. He was rubbing his temple; she put a hand on his arm.
“Stop doing that. You’re making me anxious.”
Dipper wanted to argue, but one glance at her pale face and he held his tongue. He looked for the magazines, but found only kids’ toys and picture books.
“Huh,” Picking up a copy of Silly Billy’s Big Brain, he eyed the thick cardboard pages. “I never noticed how, uh, kiddy this place is.”
“You say that every time, dear.”
“Heh, I guess so. But seriously, am I supposed to, like, find another neurologist now, or-?”
“Oh, don’t ask her that, please.” She made a face. “As long as she keeps taking our bookings, I don’t care what her waiting room looks like.”
“I mean, I don’t care about her waiting room either, I just-”
“Just what?”
He hesitated. “Just… nothing.” He said, and then looked away. “It’s fine, Mom.”
And so they both sat, rigid and silent, until the sound of footsteps echoed from behind a door. Dipper looked up, and as he did his eyes did the thing again; he caught a glimpse of a nurse with a clipboard reaching for the door handle and--agh, shit, he squeezed his eyes closed before the pain spiked too bad.
eeeeeeeeeee…
“...Quicksilver?” A voice was saying. Hands on his shoulders--his mother’s hands.
“Yes, we’ll be just a second!” She softened her voice. “Are you alright? Did it happen again?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah, I’m…” He forced his eyes open, and smiled at her. “I’m fine. Just a small one, don’t worry.”
“Oh, my poor guy.” She cupped his cheek, then offered a hand. “Come on.”
The nurse looked exactly the same as he’d seen through the door. He gave a sympathetic smile. “This way, Mr Quicksilver.”
Measured, weighed, quizzed. The blood pressure sleeve slipped off his arm, and the nurse stepped back.
“Alright, I’ll let Dr. Deinolis know you’re ready for her. She’ll be with you soon.”
And then he was gone, leaving Dipper sitting on the exam table next to his mother. She grasped his hand.
“She’ll sort you out, dear.”
“Yeah,” Dipper felt the space where his necklace used to be. “Right.”
His mother pursed her lips; she looked away for a moment, at the friendly posters on the walls. Then she gave a sigh. “You know you can tell me anything, right?” She squeezed his hand. “I wish you’d-”
They were interrupted by a clop-clop-clop; someone stopped outside their door, and knocked a dun-dundun-dun-dun, dun dun!
“Is that Dipper?” said a bright voice. Dipper straightened; he nodded at first, and then he realised.
“Oh, uh, yeah!”
“Great! I’m coming on in!”
And with a crowfooted smile and stickers adorning her ID badge, in trotted Dr. Eirini Deinolis. A dun-coloured pony of a centaur, she still craned her neck to get through the door, her white coat stained with crayon smudges and scrunched up where her back met her withers.
Dipper didn’t remember the first time he’d met Dr. Eirini; her presence, like his Mom and Dad, had always been a constant. She’d seen him first when he was three months old and deathly sick; it was her who figured out a suspected glioblastoma was in fact a mysterious yet eminently manageable case of magical sensitivity. Figuring out the source of this sensitivity had eluded their checkups since then… but hey, if it hadn’t been for her, he may well have been done in by something as dumb as their old magi-light dimmers.
These yearly visits, they’d long ago started feeling… almost familial, like seeing a kindly aunt who sent you birthday cards and told you how big you’d grown. Or at least that was how he thought those things went; like the peninsula they lived on, the Quicksilvers were a shard of a family, a remnant of something larger. Dipper’s Dad was estranged, and his Mom’s parents, along with her sister, died tragically young--some kind of carbon monoxide leak in the crematory, but she never went into detail.
“Hey, Dipper!”
So maybe that was why, despite everything…
“It’s so good to see ya! How’ve you been? Wow, I can’t get over how tall you’ve gotten--like a bean pole, eh, Eva?”
…he felt a weight lifting from his shoulders. As he watched his mother give her a hug that lasted just a moment too long, he wondered if she’d been craving some normalcy, too.
“Ah, it’s good to see you both!” With a pat on the back, Dr. Eirini let her go and clopped over to the desk. “Alright, to business! Let me get my notes pulled up… ah, I noticed you guys moved our appointment up. Something’s changed since last year?”
Dipper couldn’t help but snort--god, what hadn’t? He could see her eyebrow quirk up.
“I see,” she said, her gaze straying lower. “You’re not wearing your necklace.”
His Mom huffed. “Yes, it got broken a few weeks ago. You’ll have to pry the details out of him.”
He felt his cheeks starting to burn, but the doctor didn’t press.
“Aww, that’s a shame! I’ve been fascinated by how well that charm worked; it’s made me pick up glassmaking myself!”
“Really?” He perked up. “Can you-”
“Oh, no, no, I’m still a total amateur. Whatever your sister is doing, it’s far beyond me; I just wish I could understand the mechanism!” Then, with a glance to his Mom: “Did you tell her I wanted to…?”
“It’s not a good time.” she said, flatly. Dr. Eirini’s smile faltered for a moment, and then she carried on.
“Oh, okay! No worries--we’ve managed things without your necklace, we can do it again!” Pulling up her tablet, she started typing away. “We were having some success with lithium before. I could book a blood test to get you started back on that--same clinic in town, right?”
“That’s right!” said his Mom.
“Great!” And she turned to Dipper. “That sound good with you?”
“Uh, yeah, yeah, that’s… fine.” He rubbed his neck. “Just, didn’t that take months to work last time? I don’t want to have to do all that just to have to start stepping down again when Mal finishes the necklace.”
“That’s a fair question. When do you think she’ll finish it?” When he shrugged, she shrugged back. “Then that’s harder for me to answer, really. You could hold out for her to finish if you think it’ll be soon, but in my opinion, it’s not a standardised treatment. The last necklace worked great, but if we don’t know how it worked, there’s no guarantee the replacement is going to be just as effective.”
Dipper grimaced. “Oh. That’s a fun thought.”
“I’m not saying it won’t, it could be great! I just think if that did happen, you might be happy to have gotten the ball rolling on this a little earlier.” A little grin. “Better safe than sorry, right? But of course, it’s your choice.”
His mother gave a gentle squeeze, and he sighed. “Yeah… yeah, that makes sense. Better safe than sorry.”
“It’s always your choice!” She typed a little longer, then turned that sunny smile to his Mom. “Alright, Eva, I just have a few more questions before I wrap up. You alright waiting in the lobby?”
His Mom blinked. “Oh! Uh, okay.”
“Don’t worry, it’s just policy. They want to make sure the university students are being honest, right?”
“Hah! Don’t I wish.” She looked to Dipper. “Okay, sweetie, I’ll be outside. Love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
And she gave a sad sort of smile at that, before she turned and headed outside. Now it felt much more like a doctor’s visit; Dr. Eirini kept typing for a moment, and Dipper straightened, smoothed the creases in his jeans, tried to think of what she was going to ask.
It was obvious, wasn’t it? And yet, when she set aside the tablet, leaned forwards, and asked in a kindly voice, “You doing alright?”--well, all the words in the world seemed to dry up on his tongue.
“Um, hah, uh…” He tried for a little laugh and a shrug, but she didn’t let him off. “You mean, like, medically? The lithium sounds good, uh… that sounds good, yeah.”
She just nodded. The silence stretched; shifting in his seat, Dipper tried to fill it.
“And, uh… yeah, it’s been a weird time, weird time. But I should be fine! Get this headache thing sorted again, and everything should go back to normal--as much as it can, anyway. Just, heh, have to hold out for that, right.”
“Do you want to talk about it?” She tilted her head. “This ‘weird time?’”
“Well… well, what’s there to talk about?” A pause, a laugh. “Uh, I guess. I guess you want to know what happened to the necklace.”
“You can tell me that.”
“Yeah, that was, that was a couple weeks ago. I-I was out with…” he made a face. “Some friends. In the forest, we just were messing around, I tripped, and–yeah.”
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Is that when you got suspended as well?”
Dipper’s head shot up. “What? When did you-”
“It’s alright, your mother told me a bit about that on the phone.” Her face creased into a sad smile. “I read about it on the papers as well… and what happened more recently.”
“Oh.” His heart felt like a rock; of course she knew. “You mean Gemma.”
“It’s awful news, truly awful. It seems like you’ve had a really hard time lately, Dipper; I just want to check that you have someone to talk about it with. Your parents? Your sister?”
He let out a snort, and immediately regretted it. “Uh, hah, sorry, that’s, I didn’t mean it like that.” A grimace. “Mal’s… I knew Gemma, yeah, but she was Mal’s best friend.”
“Ah.”
“Yeah, I-I’ve barely seen her since the news broke.”
Dr. Eirini gave a sympathetic nod, and then pressed on. “So you don’t have anybody at home to talk to? How about your friends?”
“Um, yeah, sure, I got… a friend.”
“A friend.” She typed something on her computer as his stomach twisted into knots. “I don’t mean to pry, it just seems like there’s a lot on your shoulders right now. I’m worried about you.”
“Oh–No, no, I’m fine!”
She raised her eyebrows at him. “Okay. But I’m going to write down some counselors in your local area. You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but it’s good to have them on hand if you feel like you want to talk to someone, yeah?”
Dipper sank down in his chair. “Okay,” he managed, then: “Sorry.”
“Oh, no, don’t be sorry. What are you saying sorry for?”
“I don’t know, uh… everything?” He rubbed his neck as she wrote something out. “It feels like I’m making everyone worried about me lately, I-I don’t know how to stop that.”
“Hmm,” she held up a slip of paper. “I have a suggestion.”
“Hah, uh, right.” Cheeks blushing, he stood and took it from her. “I’ll… I’ll think about it. Thanks, Dr. Eirini.”
“Of course.” She rose to her four feet, and smiled down at him. “Well, as always, it’s been a pleasure to see you, Dipper. Is there anything else you wanted to talk about before we go?”
“I don’t think so,” came automatically, but as his mind caught up, he wondered: those visions of within Gemma’s house. How did he do that? Was that related to his condition? They certainly felt like they were, but–
“Are you sure?”
He glanced back at her, and his stomach tightened. No, no, that wasn’t– it was more than just a magical headache, it was like… it was like magic. His fingers tightened on the paper; she’d write it down, she’d send him off to someone else and who knows what they’d think of it? If the police thought he’d seen too much of the crime scene– no, no, no.
“Dipper?”
Her head was tilted now, and he rushed to reassure her. “No! Just thinking, but, yeah, no! Nice to see you too!”
“Okay. As long as you’re sure.”
“Yep!” And he slipped towards the door. “Alright, uh, good talk! Bye!”
“Take care, Dipper.”
Her words echoed as he walked down the hall, his ears ringing. Take care–if only he could. But no, he was in too deep, now.
His fingers crumpled the note into a ball, and he stuffed it into his pocket just as he made it back to his Mom.
Mabel isn't an idiot. She knows better than anyone that messing with demon magic can end badly. But all alone in Piedmont, with no one else to watch her brother's back… maybe this is just what she needs.
Mabel didn’t know what happened after they tessered away. Maybe they talked for a bit in their room, maybe they hugged, or maybe they simply collapsed into bed, absolutely exhausted. That’s all Mabel remembered - sleeping.
Sleeping, with the fang clutched close to her side. She dreamt of odd things that night, of angry whispers in the dark, of coils tightening and tightening and choking her, of death, of death… and she awoke, groaning, to the sound of her alarm.
Everything hurt, and she really meant everything. It was an effort to roll over and hit snooze, but to sink back into her bed, to close her eyes once again…
“Mabel?”
“Mph, Dipper…” She waved at him. “Noo…”
“Mabel, sweetie? It’s time to get up.”
Sweetie. That wasn’t Dipper.
“You’ve got to get ready for school.” Her mother gently brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Your father’s making breakfast downstairs - if you get ready fast, you can still have a bit before the bus comes!”
Mabel made a face, and then heaved herself up. She realised she still had something in her hands - the fang. Quickly she stashed it under the covers, and got to her feet.
“Doesn’t that sound, uh, nice?” There was something in Anna’s smile. “You look tired, sweetie. Did you stay out late last night?”
Mabel rubbed her eyes. “No,” she lied, and could almost feel her mother’s smile stretch.
“Well, we didn’t see you come home last night. And, heh, we were waiting until way past your curfew!” She gave a wooden laugh. “So that’s… you know, I wanted to-”
“Fine. We went to a party or whatever. We’re back now, aren’t we… Where’s Dipper?” She looked around, and spotted him in the corner. “Oh, there you are! Morning.”
He gave an awkward wave, and Mabel turned back to her.
“See Mom? We’re both fine, so it’s none of your business.”
“I-”
“I’m gonna get changed now! You know, ‘cause I can’t wait to have breakfast with you two and all. So bye.”
Her mother lingered there for a second, mouth open like she wanted to protest… but after a moment, she sighed and made for the door. Mabel closed the door hard behind her, then grimaced and touched her shoulder.
“Ow. I’m sore in places I didn’t even know I could be.” She chuckled at Dipper. “Some night last night, huh?”
He blinked at her. “Yeah… some night. Are you okay?”
“I’ll be okay, don’t worry about me.”
“Mabel…”
“I’ll be fine.” She sank back into the covers, yawning. “Jus’ tired, I… ow.”
“You okay?”
“There’s something in my bed-” She felt the fang, and immediately snorted. “Welp, I nearly stabbed myself just now.”
“What?”
She drew it out, and watched a strange expression flicker across her brother’s face. He looked sort of tense, sort of angry, and she had to call his name before he’d reply.
“Dipper. Dipper. Bro.” She chuckled when he blinked and looked over at her. “What, you don’t like it?”
“Don’t like it?” Dipper curled his lip. “Mabel, it’s a demon.”
“Ohhh nooo, how terrible.”
“That’s- you know what I mean. It’s not like me. It’s dangerous, and we’re gonna get rid of it.” His eyes met hers, and frowned. “Mabel, we’re gonna get rid of it, aren’t we?”
Mabel clutched the fang a little closer to her chest. She opened her mouth, but there was a knock on their bedroom.
“Sweetie?” Anna’s voice again. “Breakfast is-”
“I know! I said we’re getting changed, mom!”
“Okay, I trust you. Just don’t take too long, we-”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming!” Mabel snapped. She glanced back at Dipper, and rolled her eyes. “I guess we gotta talk about this later,” she said, and stuffed the fang into her backpack. “Okay, we’re coming down in a second! Let me find a sweater…”
She walked past Dipper to her drawers, and felt his eyes on her as she picked something out. They didn’t talk again; a coming argument hung over them like a storm cloud, waiting to break.
Once Mabel got changed, she hefted her bag and sped down the stairs to the kitchen. The smell of bacon made her stomach rumble; the news channel her parents were scrambling to turn off made it twist.
“-details are constantly emerging of the demonic massacre in Piedmont last night. Strangely, the first 911 calls only reported the incident as a shootout, but the terrible truth emerged when-”
“Mabel!” Mark stabbed the remote and shot up with a wide smile. “You ready for breakfast?”
“Not hungry.”
“Wh- Mabel!” Anna watched her walk past them to the door. “Come back! Can we ask-”
“Sorry, gotta catch the bus! School is important or whatever, you know how it is.”
“Mabel-”
Mabel slammed the front door behind her, and rolled her eyes at Dipper. He made a face.
“You saw the-”
“The TV, yeah.” She took a left - not the way to the bus stop. “Whatever, it’s not like they’re not gonna do anything about it. They don’t even have the guts to ask us about it.”
“Yeah…”
“Don’t worry about it, bro.” Mabel gave a smile. “We got the whole day to ourselves. Wanna go to the park? I think we’ve earned a park day.”
Many past owners of the Undervale have ended up as spirits of the hotel, eternal guests that wander its halls, never to check out. Nathan wasn't the first.
And in this world, he isn't the last. It doesn't even take a year.
See most updated version on Archive of Our Own. ______________________________________________________________
Esther was sitting on the docks by the lake, her little legs dangling over the end. The water stretched out beneath her feet to the far-off wooded shores, its little ripples sparkling with warm sunlight.
Huh. She squinted up at the cloudless sky--it was sunny now? She could’ve sworn when she got here it was… when did she get here?
“Man,” she chuckled a bit and rubbed her eyes. “Must’ve fallen asleep. What time is it?”
She had a cheap little digital watch she’d swiped from either a ghost or a guest, but when she brought her arm up, she realised she was soaking. Water dripped from her sodden sleeves, and the watch was all fogged up--ugh, dammit, she liked that thing!
“You're back.”
A voice so familiar she didn't even turn around. “Hey Abbadon,” she said as she got to her feet and shook herself off like a dog. “I think I lost track of time. Is Mom looking for me?”
“Nathan is.”
“Uncle Nathan?” She looked back with a snort. “Oh, jeez, Abbadon, have you been lying in a grave again? Mom's gonna have to spray you down with the hose.”
Abbadon didn't say anything to that; he just looked at her. He was always dishevelled, but it struck Esther that he looked particularly rough today. His long hair had sticks in it, his tunic was stained, and the ever-present bags under his eyes were deeper than ever.
“Hey,” she walked up to him. “You okay? You're looking a little… I dunno.”
He seemed to seriously consider her question. “I'm alright.” He said, and a rare smile graced his face. “I'm glad to see you again, Esther. I hope the others will come back soon.”
A frown. “What, are they out?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Huh.” It was weird for her Mom to leave without telling her… she glanced back at the house. “Well, I better get back to Uncle Nathan! You coming, or… hah, are you just gonna stand there?”
Abbadon was looking out over the lake; it took him a moment to turn around. Wordlessly, he started up the path, and she followed.
“Sooo,” she started. “You got any plans for today? I was thinking I’d explore the basement! I really haven’t been down there enough; I heard there’s a dungeon!” A chuckle. “You think I could rope Ben into coming when he gets back? I bet that’d be priceless!”
But Abbadon didn’t react much. He kept trudging straight ahead, and Esther rolled her eyes. So he was in one of his moods… oh, well. She could talk for the both of them.
“Man, am I still dripping?” She grimaced at the little trail of droplets she was leaving behind. “Can you get me a towel from the laundry room? Mom’s gonna kill me if I ruin the floors again.”
“That won’t work.”
“C’mon, you know where the laundry room is! That’s your favourite place!”
“Was my favourite place. The dryer no longer works.” He crossed his arms. “Anyway, it would go through you. You’ll have to adjust.”
“Go through me?”
“Yes,” he said, like it was obvious. Before she could respond, the hotel was coming into view. “I will find the patriarch. He has been acting… strangely, in your absence.”
“In our- what?” Esther blinked as he scampered off. “Absence? Hey, wait, Abbadon! What do you mean!”
She tried to keep up with him, but he was already gone, leaving her at the foot of the hotel, the front doors swinging ajar in the breeze. A breeze she could hear rustling through the branches all around her… but she noticed, she didn’t feel its chill.
She was standing, sopping wet, in the middle of the courtyard, and she didn’t feel anything.
There was a pit in her stomach all of a sudden. Why… why had she been at the lake? She didn’t remember going to the lake.
(Most ghosts don’t remember how they-)
She shook her head--okay, shut up, shut up! She was just, just freaking herself out, that was crazy talk. She was gonna go inside, and Uncle Nathan was gonna tell her Mom and Ben were out in town, and they were gonna go watch movies until they got home.
That was what was gonna happen. Esther put a foot on the first step, gazed up at the swinging doors.
She was… she was gonna go inside. She inched past the doors--she didn’t want them to hit her, that was all!--and found herself in the lobby. But not the same lobby she’d left.
“Abbadon?” Esther picked her way through upturned chairs and shattered paintings with broken glass strewn across the floor--she’d never seen it look this bad. “Uncle Nathan?”
But there was no answer. Ghosts peeked through the wall, and their gazes were strange, somber; she saw the cowboy and reached out a hand.
“Wait! Hey, wait, have you seen- no, no, don’t go!”
He slipped back into the wall; her hand followed, followed through. Fear ran like a live wire through her at the sight: her hand was going through the wall, glowing that same eerie blue that Uncle Nathan did when- No! With a gasp, she whipped it back and hugged it to her chest.
“No, no, no,” she backed away, and gasped when she went through a couch. “No, no, no no! Uncle Nathan! M-Mom, Mom, where are you! Mom!”
Her eyes welled with tears-- no, this couldn’t be happening. This couldn’t, this had to be a bad dream. It had to be.
Right there in the lobby, she curled into a ball. “Mom…” She mumbled, hugging her knees to her chest, feeling a sob well up in her throat. “I-I want Mom…”
“Esther?”
A voice. Not Mom’s--but Uncle Nathan!
“Esther! You’re back?!” He sounded like he was coming closer; a second later, he stumbled right through the wall, his wide eyes landing on her. “Esther!”
There was a wild relief on his face when he saw her, but she felt none of it. She shook her head and curled up tighter, and that beaming grin dropped just as fast as it came.
“Oh, Esther,” and he was there, and hands were wrapping tight around her; his hands, she realised. His arms, squeezing like he never wanted to let go. “It’s okay, bud. I’ve got you. It’s gonna be okay.”
It’s gonna be okay, he said, and something in her wanted to scream what part of this is okay?! Something in her recoiled at his touch, because they weren’t supposed to be able to touch, he wasn’t supposed to be able to hug her like this!
“It’s gonna be okay,” he said again, and even though it didn’t even sound like he was sure of it, a much bigger part of her was so tired and so scared that for a moment she just let herself believe.
For a moment, she just flung her arms around his neck, and sobbed into that scratchy blue sweater, and let herself pretend that everything was going to be okay.
It can be a great relief to let them be right about you.
I've been enjoying the good priest headcanons, but I wanted to write an alternate take.
See most updated version on Archive of Our Own. ______________________________________________________________
Wrists bound. Chains tight. Salt lines rustle in the hay as Abaddon moves this strange little body, as he casts borrowed eyes up to the ceiling.
The rafters, comes a thought--this, too, is borrowed. He hears these low sounds all around him, and the vessel thinks cows. He’s in a barn, looking at a dusty manger huddled in the corner, and the vessel thinks ironic.
This vessel has a great many thoughts; Abaddon doesn’t know if that’s how this usually goes. When a demon reaches for a human’s soul, is something supposed to reach back?
“What have you done with my boy?”
The sun beating down on this skin. The pain as the priest suddenly seized his wrist, dragged him in close and looked him up and down like a specimen. The toothy smile that climbed this face--and how it wasn’t Abaddon’s.
Memories flash up now, like they did at that moment. This wasn’t the first time the vessel had felt that iron grip, had heard the whispers of the townsfolk. Too quiet, they’d said. Too strange.
What does that boy get up to in the woods?
…doesn’t look me in the eye…
Whole flock got sick after he fed them…
…wonder if he was swapped at birth, taken by the fairies?
Ah, that poor father, but he’s doing all he can. You know what they say, after all.
He that spares the rod hates his child.
“What have you done with my boy?”
Perhaps that’s why the vessel smiled like that, why he bared his teeth and laughed like a devil when the priest drew back. Ironic, thought the vessel.
Perhaps that’s why even now, laying bound and powerless on the straw while a mob and a fire were stoked outside, there’s still this shivering, burning, biting gnashing tearing wild joy beating in Abaddon’s borrowed heart.
Good, thought the vessel, and Abaddon couldn’t keep these legs still. Good. I’ll be the monster. I’ll be the changeling. I’ll be the devil.
They can finally be right about me. That’s what they wanted all along.
Humans, Abaddon thinks, are so much more interesting than he’d initially thought. And when the priest had branded him, when he lay screaming by the cliff with the smell of his own cooked skin clogging his nose, it wasn’t just Abaddon who saw the opening.
It wasn’t just Abaddon who leapt on him, who felt the wind in his hair and saw the glowing maw of the horizon rushing up to meet them.
Playing human again, Alcor makes it longer than he usually does. He's in college now, juggling classes, family, a curious vampire, and a strange, increasingly sinister web of mysteries weaving themselves around him. Without his omniscience to guide the way, he'll have to work hard to get to the bottom of this before it spirals out of control.
All the way across the world, Lucy Ann stood in a sunhat at the banks of the Euphrates, staring out at the sparkling brown water. Here, the sky was a cloudless blue, palm trees standing tall in windless air. Here, children played in the grass behind her, laughing, kicking a ball around in an impromptu game. Here, it was peaceful, and no plots, no mysteries, no scheming nets swirled around her.
Here, in 2762 BCE, in the reign of Gilgamesh of Sumeria, Lucy Ann had been born.
Of course, she thought, time had worn away some accuracies. She was actually born in Uruk, about 20 kilometres to the east… but seeing as she didn't like living in an archeological dig site, Samawah, Iraq was close enough.
It was also not Lucy Ann that was born there, not really. The little human girl who lived so far back in Lucy Ann's memory was called Sagar, and she would die long before the thing that rose in her place took that name.
Sagar… the name echoed in her mind. In vulnerable moments, Lucy Ann wondered how much of that happy little girl still lived on in her. Those short seven years, so faded now in her mind, measured against the eons that followed… it seemed impossible that anything of her had bourne the test of time.
A sigh. Coming back to herself, Lucy Ann looked again at the river. A string of ducklings were bobbing past, and she hoped Sagar would smile to know she still loved the sight of them.
She still loved the shade of the palm trees, too. And the cool air coming off the Euphrates… even if there were now office buildings rising from its far banks. Ah, but you can’t get hung up on details.
For a while she lingered there, lost both in memories and the calming feeling--rare to mortals but all too common in the otherwise--of having no responsibilities to attend to. At one point some kids kicked the ball to her, thinking she was one of their own. You could see them realise when she turned around; there was a sudden unease at this not-a-child, but she smiled and kicked it back and they just seemed to file her away as a weird-looking grownup. After all, she was just a vampire.
Her grin turned wry as they resumed running around without a second thought. Thank the stars for the Transcendence--humans had done much worse to her along the banks of this river.
Still, the moment had passed. Looking up at the noon sun now sinking in the sky, she stepped back, and made for home.
It wasn't far… but where was home for the eternal wanderer?
Home was with friends. In this instance, a very old friend, indeed.
Trudging over a bridge and through narrow, winding streets, Lucy Ann came upon a row of houses, and then one house in particular. A different design from the rest, with a wall of intricate bright teal tiles encircling an inner courtyard, it was twisted a bit from the road, following the bend of an older path.
Chimes hung in colourful strings over a tall and pointing arch; stepping through, Lucy Ann found an eclectic courtyard strewn with various projects. In one corner, an ancient mudbrick forge was dug in the earth, cast bronze blades cooling atop fading embers. In another, an amateur radio tower rose tall and thin above the house, its wires draping gracefully down to feed into the roof. Along one side of the wall, nooks and ledges were carved, and a flock of little grey doves roosted in them, cooing gently and grooming each other.
They looked up at Lucy Ann as she entered, their heads cocking curiously. She chuckled.
“Sorry, guys, I don't have any food.” She grasped the front door. “Honestly, you'd think she starves you.”
Leaving the cheeky cooing behind, Lucy Ann stepped into another room of contrasts. A rack of servers humming next to an ancient clay pot, a wall of shelves holding books, scrolls, and cuneiform stone tablets. Through one doorway the kitchen was modern, an icemaker on a gleaming silver fridge; through another, a hand-carved tunnel ribbed with wooden brackets dove into the earth as far as vampire eyes could see.
And down the hall, hunched over three glaring monitors, was the source of these many oddities, her oldest surviving friend, Šikkû of Babylon.
She was an ancient vampire to all but Lucy Ann, and one of the vanishingly few that she had sired. A old servantwoman to Uruk nobility around 1800 BCE, she took pity on a captured Lucy Ann--then still Sagar--and sprang her loose, fleeing down the river with her under a moonless night.
Šikkû and Sagar roamed together for a few years, posing as mother and daughter, never lingering long enough to draw suspicious eyes. From the moment Šikkû had learned of vampirism she begged Sagar to share it, but it wasn't until she lay stricken with dysentery that her pleas finally reached her.
“Please,” Šikkû had said, her weak hand grasping Sagar's robes. “I cannot bear to die now. Not yet.”
Sagar dabbed her shining forehead. “You know not what you ask, my friend.” She murmured. “The years are longer than you know.”
“Better they are too long than too short. My life was not my own until I came with you; I have only just begun to live!”
“You will be hated.” Sagar thought of those fangs that came for her in the dark. “With good reason.”
“I am… hated already.” Her breath was shallow, but her eyes were bright, staring up at the stars with all the wonder of the cosmos. “There is so much to know about this world, more than would fill the palaces of Babylon! And I want to know it all. I must know it all. Look me in the eyes, Sagar, I know what I ask.”
Those eyes fixed on her now, and Sagar saw no doubt in them, none at all.
“Please, my friend.” She'd said, and Sagar could deny her no longer.
It was strange; Lucy Ann certainly didn't hate the life she had been given, but until that night, she had never thought of it as a gift. She had been turned against her will as a child; it was never something she had a choice in.
But Šikkû did, and… well, if anyone was suited for near-eternal life, it was most definitely her. She had meant it when she said she wanted to know it all; almost every day of her existence had been devoted to learning, whether it be reading great literature, practicing an endless array of skills from metalworking to luteplaying to 3D printing, or coming up with theorems of her own--though sharing them with the wider world had proved harder. She once traveled widely… but unlike Lucy Ann, seemed to view it more as a means to an end, and dwelt as often as she could in the familiar lands between the Tigris and Euphrades. The internet, Lucy Ann thought, had really been the death knell to Šikkû's fading sense of adventure.
Still, shut-in or no, Šikkû may well have been the most knowledgeable being on the planet. Demons had their cheating omnisciences, but if Lucy Ann ever had need of advice, it was Šikkû she turned to, not them.
(Plus, Šikkû didn't demand blood or souls. Ever since the day she was turned, she never asked for a thing.)
All that to say, Lucy Ann came into the room, and smiled at her friend. “As-salamu alaikum,” she said in greeting… but she didn't mind terribly that Šikkû remained fixed to the screen. It was rude, but Lucy Ann knew she'd long ago stopped living life on anyone else's terms.
She was typing furiously. Stepping closer, Lucy Ann peered at the screen, and: yep, she was on some coding help forum, having what she likely thought was a spirited discussion with another user about the two different solutions they'd proposed. The increasing amount of capslock in the other guy's responses suggested otherwise.
Lucy Ann couldn't help but snort at that. “I'm gonna get a drink,” she continued. “You want one too?”
A distracted nod was she was going to get. Wandering into the kitchen, Lucy Ann hopped onto the counter to get some glasses and pressed them to the icemaker; red blood poured out instead of water, finished off with a spurt of ice cubes.
Lucy Ann gave a fanged smile. One of her favourite things about staying here, it must be said.
Walking back to the room, Šikkû had evidently finished her discussion. “Sagar!” She said, rising from her chair, her arms spread wide. “Salām, you're back! How goes it? Can I get you anything?”
“All good!” Lucy Ann handed her a glass, which she took with a grin.
“You read my mind!” Šikkû drank deeply, the ice cubes clinking against her fangs. “Ah, that's just what I needed. Come, sit! We haven't had a chance to catch up since you got here!”
“Oh, are you sure? I know you're busy.”
“Well…” Šikkû glanced over longingly at a new reply on the forum… but then she shook her head. “Oh, nonsense, I've been putting it off far too long! Come, come!”
Leading her into a bright parlour room with cats napping on the spots where sunbeams met the tile, Šikkû sank into a comfy-looking couch with a cupholder on the armrest. She stretched, and golden rays danced harmlessly over her forearms.
Lucy Ann took an armchair opposite to her, and yes, it was very comfy indeed; no wonder, as Šikkû made all the furniture herself. A cat spied her open lap and immediately jumped up, its warm little body nestling down and beginning to purr.
“Heh, she likes you.” Šikkû took a long sip; her grin had turned teasing when she looked back. “You know, I had another of those English calls today. From a ‘pizza delivery man’.”
At that, any ease in Lucy Ann’s body immediately cringed out of existence; oh, stars, it was those stupid demonologists from the Isles. See, she’d given the Dinner Crew Šikkû’s work number at the university while she was getting settled in Iraq. It was just meant to be for emergencies, but apparently a couple days ago Gemma had phoned in and tricked someone into giving it up.
And now, thanks to that little slip, those kids were bothering her most reclusive friend with their inane schemes. Šikkû didn’t even talk that much to her own students when she could help it.
“Oh, stultissimi.” Lucy Ann pinched her brow. “I’m so sorry about this, Šikkû. They weren’t ever supposed to get your number--I can call the Dinner Crew again, Darceus could-”
Šikkû waved her away. “Ignōscō. Don’t worry, they will tire of it. They will tire of their phone bills, at least--my pizza delivery man spoke to me for twenty minutes.”
“Twenty-! Šikkû, please, you can hang up on them, I promise.”
“But then their phone bills would not be so large.” There was a mischievous glint in her eye as she winked. “I have hid you from the armies of Macedon, my friend. I can hide you from children.”
“I’m not hiding from them,” Lucy Ann muttered… but she did smile at the sentiment. “I’m just, I’m… I’m giving someone space.”
“The demon child?” When Lucy Ann looked sharply up, Šikkû nodded as if she’d answered. “Alcor--al-khawār. Curious is a creature who names himself the faint one.”
“Says the one who called herself the Shade of Babylon for a couple centuries.”
“Hah! Oh, I forgot I did that.” Šikkû snorted to herself. “We all start out with the most ridiculous names for ourselves, don’t we? Some way to mark the change, I suppose, but we do it before we even know what has changed. Hmm.”
And now Šikkû looked lost in thought; this was the way of talking to her, Lucy Ann thought. You never got far before you brought up something more interesting than you.
But still, Lucy Ann tried to carry on. “He, uh,” she started, and to Šikkû’s credit she glanced up. “He’s been doing this thing where he ‘plays human’, he goes and erases his memory for a couple decades… well, ‘a couple’ is generous, actually.”
“How curious,” Šikkû said, and stars, Lucy Ann thought, never let her do something that Šikkû deems ‘curious’. “How long has he lasted?”
“‘Bout eighteen, so he’s doing pretty well this time around.” She made a face. “I kinda, uh, almost messed that up for him, though.”
“And that’s why you came here?”
“Well, it’s why I left. I came here ‘cause it’s nice to see you.” Lucy Ann paused a moment, stroking the cat on her lap. “Do you think…?”
“Yes?”
“Do you think it was a mistake? To go and see him at all while he was doing that?”
“Hmm,” Šikkû sat there for a long moment, her face impassive. “Why did you go to see him?”
She shrugged. “Well, for a bit of fun, mostly. At least at first, but, you know. He’s my friend--memories or no, it was nice to hang out with him.” A sigh. “But, uh, I guess I forgot that would matter. That it’d make things complicated for him, and… I mean, it’s a dumb thing to do, objectively dumb. But if he wants to do it…”
“Then it’s not your right to stop him,” Šikkû finished Lucy Ann’s thought for her. “But you weren’t trying to stop him, no? Nor did your actions cause him to be stopped.”
“Well,” she snorted. “Jury’s still out on that.”
“Then wait for the jury.” A shrug. “Why regret what may not come to pass?”
Lucy Ann made a face. “Yeah,” she muttered. “I’ll just do that.”
Šikkû let that sit for a moment. She looked out the window, at the doves roosting on their wall, and her cats’ swishing tails as they sat by the glass.
A smile graced her face. “I think,” she said, “that beings who live as long as us, we pick up our share of eccentricities, don’t we? Whether it be playing human, or playing with humans, we do curious things with our time.” She turned that smile onto Lucy Ann. “You wanted to see your friend. Whatever happens, I doubt he’ll find that hard to forgive.”
Man, Šikkû had a way of making things sound so easy. Lucy Ann sighed. “Yeah… yeah. I suppose you’re-”
Brrrring!
A sudden ringing cut her off. Šikkû’s eyebrows raised, and she set down her glass to dig in her pocket; they raised a little further when she saw the screen.
“Canadian number,” She murmured. “584 area code, that’s… Manitoba.”
Lucy Ann shrugged. She watched Šikkû put it to her ear.
“Yes, hello?” Šikkû started. “You’ve come through to Dr. Zahra Hazem at the… hmm. Okay. That’s strange, I don’t know why my number would come up for her.”
Lucy Ann groaned; oh, it was one of those demonologist kids, wasn’t it? But as she watched, Šikkû’s expression shifted from a polite disinterest to concern; she sat up a bit.
“Murdered? Well, I’m very sorry to hear about that, but,” her eyes flitted to Lucy Ann. “as I said, Xiaofan, I don’t know who this Lucy Ann is, or what she has to do with Gemma’s murder, so I’m afraid I can’t help you.”
An opening: Šikkû was giving her a chance to jump in. And for a moment she wanted to; Gemma, murdered? She didn’t expect that at all, but… well, it was Xiaofan calling. How much did Lucy Ann want to bet this was some kind of ruse?
No. Lucy Ann shook her head, and Šikkû cleared her throat. “Yes, yes, I- no, I understand what you’re saying, but like I said, I- no. I’m sorry, I really can’t help you, and I’m afraid that’s final. I have a lecture now, good- no, good day. Good day.”
Then she hung up. Lucy Ann tried for a smile. “You have a lecture? I think your students beg to differ.”
But Šikkû didn’t seem to hear her; she looked troubled. “Murdered so young, how terrible. I don’t begrudge her frustration.”
“Tch. Those guys are dying to get me jailed in the Isles, Xiaofan most of all. They’ve tricked me before.” She brought up her phone. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
With a quick google search for news on the Isles, though, Lucy Ann didn’t have to look far. Articles sprang up about the brutal murder of CFNLA freshman Gemma Gleeful, and… oh.
“Yep,” Lucy Ann muttered. She looked to Šikkû, who had evidently found the same thing. “I know why they want me. Of fucking course.”
Šikkû nodded gravely. “You seem a very talented killer, Sagar.” She said. “You can commit a murder from the other side of the planet.”
Playing human again, Alcor makes it longer than he usually does. He's in college now, juggling classes, family, a curious vampire, and a strange, increasingly sinister web of mysteries weaving themselves around him. Without his omniscience to guide the way, he'll have to work hard to get to the bottom of this before it spirals out of control.
The first thing Xiaofan needed was a change of clothes; her face was so red Lucy Ann thought she was going to pass out. Of course Šikkû had spares--disappearing into her tunnel system, she came out with some beautifully embroidered silk clothing that fit her perfectly.
“That should be a little better,” Šikkû said, coming back with a cup of water. “Do you need something to eat? I’d have to go into town for that; I’m sure you can understand Sagar and I don’t have much use for food.”
Xiaofan sat stiffly on the couch. “Sagar?” She asked, arching an eyebrow. Lucy Ann raised a finger.
“A name I used to go by. A long time ago.”
“How long?”
The question caught her off guard. “Ancient Sumeria,” she said, and watched Xiaofan choke on her water. “About six thousand years ago now.”
“Jeez, that… that is a long time.” She glanced at Šikkû. “Is that where you’re from, too?”
“Me? Oh, no, I’m a thousand years her junior--palû Babili, in the reign of Apil-Sîn.” And when that didn’t ring a bell: “Ancient Babylon. You are still taught of the Code of Hammurapi in school? I was born when his grandfather was… well, not king, before Hammurapi it was a much smaller-”
Lucy Ann sensed a tangent. “We’re old,” she said. “Does that answer your question?”
“Uh…” Xiaofan’s eyes were wide. “Yeah, I guess, that’s just… hard to imagine. And you’re even older than her? Even though you look like…?”
Her gaze strayed to Lucy Ann’s feet dangling off the edge of the couch. Šikkû snorted--Lucy Ann crossed her arms.
“Yes, yes. We don’t choose how old we look.”
“I can see that,” and a ghost of a smile flitted across her face. “Six thousand years looking like a primary schooler? No wonder you’re such a jerk.”
That made Šikkû break out into a full cackle. Lucy Ann tried for a grin; she had a sinking feeling that swipe might be a bit deserved.
“Hah, uh, yeah,” she shot a look at Šikkû before turning back. “So what happened the night you got arrested? I’m guessing there’s more to that story.”
“There’s no story, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell people!” Xiaofan’s face darkened. “I never even met that Collins guy. After I came home from that lovely night in the forest with you, I talked to Gemma, then I went to sleep. Next thing I know, I’m being woken up by a fucking SWAT team with my window shot out and stolen jewels on my nightstand!”
“Shit,” Lucy Ann’s face softened. “I’m sorry that happened. I knew something wasn’t adding up.”’
“Yeah, but did you do anything about it?”
And Xiaofan looked her straight in the eye. Lucy Ann struggled to do the same. “I…” she started. “Me and Dipper, we were working on it… but I could’ve done more, I know. And I was a real asshole to you that night in the forest--I’m sorry.”
“Yeah, you were, weren’t you.” After a moment, she looked away. “Hmph… It’s fine. I wasn’t expecting you to help me; for the longest time, I thought it was you that set me up. No, the real assholes were the police.”
There was a bitterness in her voice; her hands tightened on the glass as she continued.
“I knew it looked bad, but they… they didn’t even give me a chance. This one lady, she--I’ll never forget it, she laughed at me in the interview room. Fucking handcuffed to the table, my whole future in her hands, a-and she’s acting like I’m some, some jilted girlfriend!” Xiaofan imitated her voice. “Aww, honey, you don’t have to lie for him! And they’re the ones who’re gonna bring Gemma’s killer to justice? No, they’ll say it’s you and be done with it. That’s what Mallory does--she feeds them an easy story so they don’t have to do their damn jobs.” Her lip curled. “Can’t believe it was my dream to work for them. Embarrassing.”
Lucy Ann looked at the lines on Xiaofan’s face, the anger and disillusionment that so estranged her from that bright-eyed freshman who tagged along in the forest. It was just a few short months ago, wasn’t it?
“What happened after that?” She asked, quietly. Xiaofan’s shoulders tensed… and then sagged in one defeated sigh.
“What next, well… got expelled, got my visa cancelled, still on the hook for all those fucking loans. My parents are helping me to appeal it, but since the police didn’t bother to look that hard, what evidence do I have? As far as the Federation’s concerned, they were being nice by not charging me.” She slumped in her seat, staring down at the floor. “And even if I somehow got to go back, I’m a campus joke. Everyone thinks I was hiding a dangerous criminal in their dorms--they think he’s my boyfriend! Do you know how many people have messaged me jokes about Stockholm Syndrome? How many people I thought I’d made friends with were furious I didn’t get locked away forever? One of my old dorm mates, she keeps making new accounts to send me that news article about the Collins guy dying in a gas explosion--because she thinks he’s my boyfriend! How messed up is that?”
“Jesus,” Lucy Ann breathed. Šikkû laid a box of tissues on the table; Xiaofan scowled as she touched her watering eyes
“Ugh, and now I’m… I-I hate fucking crying about it, I…” Her voice shuddered as she took one, and blew her nose. “Thanks. Anyway, it’s- everyone hates me, you get it. Th-the only people who believed me were the people in Demonology 101. Gemma, she, sh-she said she wasn’t gonna give up on me, that everything was gonna be alright. They all got expelled to clear my name, Gemma g-got…”
Silent tears welled up in Xiaofan’s eyes; she stayed stoic, sniffing, wiping them away again and again. Lucy Ann sighed--she gave her a moment, and then leaned in.
I’m so sorry,” she said. “She sounds like she was a great friend.”
“She was.” Xiaofan said, and then shook herself. “But more to the point, she was a great investigator. The night she died, she called me. She figured it out.”
“What did she find?”
Xiaofan made a face. “It’s… I don’t know exactly. You see, we were looking for a demon summoner, and the first thing a summoner’ll do if they know someone’s onto them is ask their demon what we know. I didn’t like this at the time, but shortly before I got framed, Gemma summoned a minor knowledge demon to come up with a code to, uh, encrypt our discussions. As long as we spoke and wrote in the code this demon came up with, we could be sure the summoner wouldn’t be able to tell what we knew about them.”
“Huh,” Šikkû nodded. “A smart precaution.”
“It had its pros and cons. If I could go back, I would’ve had us make a bigger deal; the code it gave us was quite restrictive to talk in.” Xiaofan made a face. “And whatever Gemma discovered, it was way outside of what we’d usually been discussing. And she only spoke to me, she didn’t want to share it with the others.”
“What did she say?”
“Somehow… she figured out that Dipper’s sister was there the night I was framed.” Xiaofan shook her head. “We always knew she was the one who asked for my address, but she was supposed to be miles away in New Angeles, she couldn’t have been anything but an unwitting participant… or so Gemma thought.” A sigh, long and heavy. “Mallory was her best friend. I’m sure that factored in, too.”
And Dipper’s sister, Lucy Ann thought with a grimace. If only she still had that summoning paper.
“Anyway,” Xiaofan continued. “It wasn’t the longest conversation, I didn’t-, it still seemed like such a minor detail compared to all the evidence we had on you. It wasn’t until… until that morning, when none of us could reach her. And then we, w-we found out…” A hard swallow, and then she set her jaw. “We found out she’d been killed. She’d already figured out you were in Iraq, and suddenly it was all so clear to me. We’ve been wasting our time chasing you when she’s right under our noses!”
Lucy Ann’s stomach sank. “You were framed with the stuff from the jewelry store,” she murmured. “If Mal had that-”
“Then she was part of the heist, too. And what do you know--apparently Mallory used to be friends with Collins.” Xiaofan’s lip curled. “And his car was left at her house, her crematorium. According to their website, business has been going pretty well since Mallory took over. Some kind of new ‘direct cremation service’ that I only found a dead email address for.”
“You think…?”
“All I know is, Gemma loved Mallory--every time she brought her up, she’d just gush about her. And Mallory murdered her.” Xiaofan’s face was ashen. “Murdered her, and staged her dead body. When I think about the kind of person who could do that, and then I think about what could be inside that crematorium… Gemma could be the tip of the iceberg.”
The thought put a rock in Lucy Ann’s stomach. Oh, this could be so much worse than Noie.
“Actually,” came a voice from across the room; she’d almost forgotten about Šikkû, who was on her magi-orb, stroking a cat on her lap. “It’s not likely she’s killed anyone besides this Gemma. Not in her local area, anyways.”
Xiaofan leaned over, and raised an eyebrow. “How can you be so sure?”
“I’m just looking up missing cases in the county--you say she has a crematorium, so it’s likely a spree of murders would show up as a spree of disappearances.” Šikkû kept scrolling. “There was a local one a couple years ago, I grant you, but unless this Mallory is driving up and down the Federation, I don’t see a pattern emerging.”
“Okay, so she’s not a serial killer, just a murderer. What’s your point?”
Lucy Ann cut in. “Šikkû doesn’t mean anything by it; she just likes to find things out. You’re right: whatever the extent of this is, it’s already… I’ve gotta talk to Dipper.”
“No!” Xiaofan’s hand shot out. “She killed her best friend to silence her--you could be putting him in danger!”
Unlikely, Lucy Ann almost said; she kept that to herself, but something in her face still betrayed her. She could see a flicker in Xiaofan’s eyes--dammit.
“Okay,” Lucy Ann tried to speak evenly. “I see the logic in that… I’ll go back to California, then. The police might not listen to me, but I could break into the crematorium, see if there’s something incriminating there, and tip them off. Make them raid it guns blazing, so she doesn’t have time to cover it up.”
“You don’t have to go there,” Šikkû added. “We could spoof a phone call. I can pretend to be a concerned local…?”
“But if she’s not hiding anything in the crematorium, we’ve made it a million times harder to call them out again. Besides,” Lucy Ann glanced Xiaofan’s way; she still had that glint in her eye. “Not that I don’t believe you, but I want to see this for myself before we start trying to get Mal arrested for murder.”
Xiaofan took a moment to respond. “Yes,” she spoke slowly, deliberately. “It’s important to be absolutely sure. That’s why I’m going with you.”
“Wh- wait, going with me?” Lucy Ann shook her head. “No, no, that’s way too risky. You’ll be in a world of trouble if you get arrested.”
“As will you. You’re literally the Federation’s most wanted right now.”
“Yeah, but they’re not gonna catch me.” She arched an eyebrow. “And more importantly, I don’t die when you stab me. Kind of important when you’re investigating a murderer, don’t you think?”
Xiaofan narrowed her eyes. “I’m coming with you.”
“You-”
“I’m coming with you, or you’re going to tell me what’s up with Dipper Quicksilver.”
And that stopped Lucy Ann in her tracks. To the side, she could hear Šikkû gasp like she was watching a good movie; Xiaofan’s eyes cut to her.
“So there is something up with him!”
Lucy Ann scowled. “Thanks, Šikkû.”
“Yeah, like I couldn’t already read it on your face.” Xiaofan stood up. “Listen, I’m not an idiot, there’s no way some ancient vampire from Sumeria is hanging around a college student for no reason. I told you everything, but you still don’t trust me, do you? You’re still keeping something from me!”
“It’s- It’s complicated, okay?” Lucy Ann gave a shrug. “It doesn’t matter for what we’re doing.”
“He’s Mallory’s brother. Is he involved? Is that-”
“No, no, whatever Mal’s mixed up in, he doesn’t know about that!”
“Then what does he know? Why are you interested in him?”
“It’s not relevant.” When Xiaofan leaned in, she stood firm. “I’m sorry, but I’m not telling you. It’s not my place.”
Xiaofan stood there for a moment, arms crossed. Then she shrugged. “Hmph… fine. Keep your secrets, but I’m coming with.”
“It really isn’t necessary.”
“If you can’t trust me, I can’t trust you. It’s that simple.”
“It’s not that I don’t-”
“It’s fine if you don’t, but that’s how it is.” Her fists tightened. “Truth is, I’d rather come. Gemma died trying to clear my name. I don’t want to sit on the other side of the world sending more people to solve my problems.”
Lucy Ann sighed. “That’s… I can respect that. It’d still be better for me to go on my own, but if your mind’s made up,” She stuck out a hand. “Can we, uh, do a fresh start on this?”
Xiaofan took her hand. “I think we can,” she said, and a slight smile graced her tired face. “Thanks. For listening to me.”
“And thank you, for telling me. I’m really sorry you got mixed up in this.”
“Well, one way or the other, I won’t have to worry about my current problems when this is all over.” She glanced over at Šikkû, who was hovering to the side. “What about you? Are you coming with us?”
“Me? coming?” Šikkû blinked, and then broke out into hearty laughter. Lucy Ann gave a wry smile.
“Šikkû’s, ah, not big into travelling.”
“Oh.”
“No, heh, I’m afraid I’m firmly a scholar these days, but,” Šikkû gave a kindly smile. “You’re welcome to any of the tools I have at my disposal. And… Xiaofan, was it?”
“Uh, yes?”
“What are your plans after this is over? You were interested in demonology?”
“Assuming I don’t get killed or thrown in jail?” Xiaofan gave a cynical snort. “I don’t even know. Everything’s changed so much, I’m not sure what I even want to do anymore. Definitely not forensic demonology.”
“Hmm. Well, if you ever need help choosing a new path, my home is open to you.”
Lucy Ann blinked. What was Šikkû doing? Xiaofan seemed to have the same question.
“What do you mean?”
“You’ve quite impressed me today, child. You’re clearly very sharp, and you’re every bit as tenacious as Sagar. It pains me to think you’ll be held down by so many unfortunate circumstances.” Šikkû gestured around her house. “Sagar and I, we’ve chosen different paths. She has seen more of the world than I ever will, but I am a scholar of many, many disciplines. Anything you could think to learn, I can teach you.”
Xiaofan’s eyes widened. “Wh- really?”
“It would be my pleasure. It has been a long time since I’ve taken on a student.”
Lucy Ann couldn’t help but snort. “You’re literally a college professor, Šikkû.”
“Oh, yes, right, I should hold more lectures… but that reminds me!” She grinned. “I’m a professor as well. Of history, but they give me much leeway owing to my background. Whatever I teach you, I could make sure it ends up as a degree.”
Xiaofan looked around, her wide wide eyes catching on the craftwork outside, the server down the hall, the heavy tomes stacked up on a side table each penned by a Dr. Zahra Hazem. “That’s…” she said quietly. “A generous offer. I-I’ll have to think on that.”
“There is no rush.”
“Yes… yes, I need to focus on the mission.” Picking past the cats, Xiaofan strode into the hallway. “We’ll need to summon another demon to get back to California--do you have chalk? Some warding pens would be useful as well, and what kind of tech do you have? We could use…”
Lucy Ann leaned over to Šikkû. “‘Every bit as tenacious as Sagar’--is that a compliment, or were you calling me a pain in the ass?”
Šikkû gave a slight smile. “It depends on the context.” Then she turned to look at Lucy Ann. “Stay safe, my old friend. This Mallory character troubles me.”
“Yeah, I wish Xiaofan weren’t coming. I’d feel much better if it was just me.”
“And I’m glad you’re not going alone.”
“Wh-” Lucy Ann chuckled, but Šikkû’s face was grave. “I’ll be fine, okay? Don’t worry about me.”
But Šikkû only repeated, “Stay safe,” before walking away down the hall. A shiver passed through Lucy Ann; her one hand brushed the glove on the other, and then she hurried to catch up with the both of them.
Wirt drowned that night in the lake, but that's not the way Greg tells it. Weeks later, Sara has to find out for herself the truth in all the stories she's been told.
It’s weird, when a kid dies. Sara doesn’t know if all highschools are this bad about it, or if hers is just uniquely awkward.
Whispers in the classrooms. Teachers she never knew that well pulling her aside, asking her how she’s feeling. One excruciating assembly in the gym, the principal stumbling over his words as he addresses ‘what you’ve probably already heard’.
Yeah. Yeah, no worries, she’s heard. A glare off to the side, where a desk sits empty in the middle of English class.
The ghost desk, people are already calling it. It’d only been a few weeks, and it’s like Wirt is already just… a story. A creepy rumor about the quiet boy their friend’s friend’s cousin had spoken to once, a chair they dare each other to sit in during lunch. He’s all of those things now… all of them, except a person.
She sighs. Well, that’s not completely fair.
As much as all the new graffiti on his desk annoys her, there are hearts among the ghost drawings, ‘WE MISS U’s alongside the ‘DEREK WAS HERE’s. There’s a clumsy sort of sensitivity to the way people hush up around her; she’ll enter a room and feel like she’s naked in a dream the way conversations would just stop - kids would shush their friends and gesture not-so-subtly at her, the Girl Who Was Actually There - but no one asks her about him, and that’s good, she thinks. She doesn’t want to talk about him, probably.
It’s weird when a kid dies… but, you know, that’s a good thing, isn’t it?
From the teachers to the students, everyone is new to this.
Sara breathes a cloud of fog as she walks down the school steps - it sure is getting cold. She casts a glance over at her friends holding hands, and gives a little eyeroll. It’s with a smile, though; took him long enough to notice how much Lucy was into him.
“H-hey, Sara,” he waves at her. “Y-y-you wanna come to m-my house?”
Lucy grins. “Yeah, we’re gonna watch some scary movies! Jason says he hasn’t seen The Ring.”
“Yeah, i-i-is it really scary? I get kind of sweaty-y when I-I get scared…”
“That’s okay, I get sweaty too! So, uh, I guess we’ll just be sweaty together, haha!”
Then they both giggle at each other, and Sara makes a face. “Uh, no, I’m good - you guys have fun, though!”
“Oh, okay! See you tomorrow!”
“Y-yeah, see you tomorrow Sara!”
Sara waves as she splits off from them, and starts the walk home. It’s just a bit longer than she likes; in summer she’ll wait for the bus, but it’s not bad this time of year. The dead leaves are crunching under her feet; all but a few stragglers are gone from the trees. Most of the Halloween decorations are down, but she passes scattered houses with sagging pumpkins out front. One earlybird’s already put out their Christmas lights, and she grins at that.
It’s a strange time of year, isn’t it? Not really fall anymore, but it’s like no one wants to admit it’s winter until Thanksgiving. No one wants to let go - not yet.
Sara stops at the corner of a street, and her smile fades from her face.
She used to take this route home. It added a few minutes to her journey, but she’d see Greg playing in the yard, or one of their parents out on the porch… or, once in a while, she’d see him.
She’d see Wirt.
Maybe the wind picked up for a moment - maybe that’s why the world felt just a little colder, now. Maybe that’s why she doesn't take this way anymore; she never knew for sure if she'd see him slumped against a tree in his yard, 'watching' his brother as he worked on his poetry, but there’d always been a chance she would.
There always used to be a chance, but… well.
Well, it didn’t matter anymore, did it.
The cold is really getting to her, now; she shouldn’t stand around. With a shiver, Sarah turns, and makes to leave-
“Sara!”
A voice. Sara blinks, and looks back. Is that…?
“Hi, Sara!” The little figure of Greg skips up to her, and sticks his arms out. “Pshoom!”
“Haha, hi, Greg!” Sara manages a little smile. “Whatcha up to?”
“I’m a lantern!” He keeps his arms out. “You’re blinded-ed!”
“Wha- oh, haha, oh no!” She covers her eyes. “You’ve got me! You’re one bright lantern, aren’t you?”
He beams up at her. “Uh huh! Hi Sara! I haven’t seen you in aaaages!”
“Uh-“
“Will you go frog hunting with me?”
The twisting feeling in her gut pauses for a moment. “Frog hunting?”
“Yeah!” Greg puts his hands on his hips. “My Mom says I can’t go on my own, and she won’t let Wirt take me anymore. But I’m sure if I ask she’ll let you take me!”
Wirt - and that twisting feeling rushes right back. Sara looks away. “I don’t know, uh, sorry Greg-“
“Pleaaaaase?”
“I should really get home-“
“But Jason Funderburker needs a friend!”
“What?”
“Jason Funderburker!” Greg turns around to show a big frog sticking out of the hood of his coat. “I think he misses his friends from the boat. And that record deal - man, he walked out on the contract of a lifetime to come back with us! We gotta make sure he's happy here!”
At that, Sara can't help but laugh. “Jason Funderburker, huh?” She glances back… but after a moment, gives a nod. “Okay, okay. If your Mom says yes, I’ll take you out for a bit, okay?”
“Aww, yes! Come on, follow me!”
Then he takes off down the street as fast as his little legs can take him - and boy, Sara thinks, that’s faster than you think.
She’s really doing this, huh? A little hesitation… but yeah. Yeah, she is. Greg deserves to have a some fun - however hard it’s been to lose a friend, it’s got to be nothing compared to losing your big brother. All Greg ever talked about was Wirt, and now, now he’s-
“Come on, Sara!”
Sara blinks, then shakes herself out of it. “Uh, I’m right behind you!”
“Haha, you’re not right behind me, you’re waaaay behind me! Follow the lantern, pshoom!”
With a snort, she jogs to catch up. Well, she’s glad he’s his still chipper little self.
Wirt’s - Greg’s house is a ways down the street, and Greg is already on the porch. Sitting outside is a still figure wrapped in a black scarf; Sara feels a pit in her stomach at the sight. Greg’s holding his mother’s hand, gesturing wildly and saying something about frogs… but his mother doesn’t really move, doesn’t do anything but stare vacantly through him, like a ghost.
“So can I go? Pleaaase? Look, she’s there!”
Standing at the foot of the driveway, Sara sees the mother finally move; she turns to look at Sara, and gives a hollow smile, a slow wave. Sara waves back - she wants to say something, she should say something… but what’s there to say?
Before she can think of anything, though, Greg’s mother turns to him, wraps him up in a big hug… and then lets him go. Greg trots back to Sara, a big beaming smile on his face as he takes her hand.
“Ehehehe, she said yes!” He starts dragging her forwards like a dog on a leash. “Come on, let’s go!”
“Wha- oh! Hang on, Greg!” She glances back over her shoulder, and sees Greg’s mother watching them go with a smile. “Uh, we’ll be back soon!”
And then they were off, Greg humming a tune as he skips along the sidewalk. Just as Sara starts to catch up to him, he stops and leans down.
“Look! It’s a snail!”
“Oh, yeah!” She watches it inch across the pavement. “Hey, little guy.”
“Snails and frogs are friends,” Greg states, in that very definitive tone kids like to use. “So we must be getting close! This way!”
“Haha, slow down, won’t you? There’s no rush.”
“There is too a rush! Mom said we need to be back by dark, so that’s like… barely any time! But don’t worry,” He tries to do a wink, but it’s more of an extended blink. “I know the perfect place.”
“Hah, well, I can’t wait to see it.” Sara says, and then pauses; what do you talk to a five year old about? “So, uh, how’s school?”
“School? Booring - oh!” He looks up at her. “Did you ever listen to the tape?”
“The… tape?”
“Yeah! The one Wirt wanted you to listen to so he gave it to me to give it to you, but then he didn’t want you to listen to it so he tried to get it back. Did you listen to it? Did you?”
Sara stops dead, her smile freezing on her face. That tape, the one she found in her jacket the night they… Greg’s tugging on her sleeve.
“Hellooo?” He sees her blink, and leans in closer. “Well, did you?”
“Um… oh, no. No, I didn’t.” She swallows the lump in her throat. “I, ah, don’t have a tape player! Haha, so, yeah.”
“Oh. We have a tape player!”
“No, no, that’s… that’s okay.”
“Okay! Wirt didn’t want you to listen to it anyway, I guess. He said it’s got clarinets and poetry in it!”
Sarah manages a smile. “Of course it does.”
“I’ll tell Wirt you didn’t listen to it then!” He says, and before Sara can open her mouth he’s skipping along again, humming as he kicks the leaves. “Potatoes, and molasses…”
“You’ll tell…?” She starts, but he’s off in his own world. With a sigh, she lets it go, sticks her hand in her pocket and stares down.
That tape - she always knew it was Wirt’s; it was his handwriting. After the craziness of that night, Jason had brought it up again, asked her if she wanted to listen to it.
“I-it’s like, his last words!” He’d said. “K-kinda creepy, huh?”
And Jason… Jason’s a nice guy, but something about that really rubbed her the wrong way. It wasn’t going to be creepy.
It was going to be Wirt.
A sigh. Clarinets and poetry… she had a horrible feeling it didn’t really matter what it was going to be, anymore. It’d just make her sad.
“We’re here!”
Sara doesn’t hear him at first; but she looks up when he lets go of her hand. “Huh? Where are you-“
And she gasps. Greg grins at her.
“It’s the graveyard!” He says, standing under that sign. “This is where we found Jason Funderburker! Come on!”
Then he takes off; Sara blinks, and then sprints after him.
“Hey, hey, wait! Greg! Greg!” She sees him skipping down the path, and races to catch up. “Hang on, Greg, let's, uh... let’s go somewhere else!”
“Why?”
“You don’t-” she sees the spot they’d been sitting around, so unremarkable yet burned into her memory. A hard swallow. “Your parents wouldn’t want you here. Come on, let’s go somewhere else.”
She makes a grab for his hand, but he dances away. “Hey, no way, this is the best place to find frogs!”
“Greg, come on…”
“Aww, just for a little bit! I go here all the time, it’ll be quick!”
“Well it’s, it’s different if your parents bring you here…”
“Haha, they don’t bring me here!”
A pause. A blink. Sara watches him sprinkle grass on a grave, and frowns. “Your parents don’t- wait, what?”
“Uh oh. I probably shouldn’t have said that.”
For the first time, Greg looks a little shifty. “What do you mean?” Sara says, and then crosses her arms. “Greg, what do you mean by that? Who do you go with?”
“Uhh… my parents?”
“Greg.”
“You’re gonna tell them, aren’t you?” His smile seems to dip for a moment… and then he suddenly brightens. “But wait! If I tell you why, do you promise not to tell them I sneak out here at night?”
“You-” She blinks several times. “You what? Uh, no, I am definitely telling your Mom - you can’t be out here by yourself!”
“I’m not by myself, obviously. I’m going to see Wirt!”
“Wirt…” She grimaces - this is so far into get-a-parent territory. “Uh, look, bud, let’s take you home, okay?”
“You don’t believe me,” he says - but it’s with a sunny smile on his face. He leans in closer. “That’s okay, Mom and Dad don’t either. I can show you, but only if you promise to let me keep coming here!”
“What? No, I am not making that promise.”
“Oh, well… I’ll show you anyway! Come on!”
“Wait - wait, Greg, don’t-!” She watches him take off down the path, and groans. “Ohh, jeez, your Mom’s gonna kill me… Greg!”
The shadows are lengthening as she runs through the graveyard. The sun is starting to touch the hills in the distance. Greg almost disappears between the gravestones, but she can hear him every time she gets lost, saying, “Come on!” or “This way!”
“Greg! Seriously, we gotta get you home!”
“Pshoom!” She hears in response, and it sounds strangely… higher? “Up here, Sara!”
So she looks up. Up, up, up, to a little silhouette waving from the garden wall.
“How did you…?” She starts; and her heart goes to her throat as he starts to turn. “No, no, no, don’t-! Just stay there, I’ll-”
“I’ll meet you down here!”
“No! No, don’t-”
But it’s too late; he disappears down the other side. For a moment she can only hold her breath, and then she hears his voice.
“I’m okay!”
“Oh, my god, just- just stay put, dude!” She grabs the branch of a nearby tree. “Don’t move!”
“Well I’m gonna move a little.”
“What? Greg, please, just don’t move-”
“Oh… okay. But there’s train tracks here.”
“What?” She nearly slips. “Okay - nevermind, move!”
“Okay! I’ll meet you at the lake, then!”
“Not that much! Greg, not that…!” But she could already hear him shuffling off. Panting hard, Sara grabs the edge of the wall. “Whoo… how the heck did he, did he climb this so fast - Greg!”
Scrabbling to the top, she sees him - thank god - as a little speck next to the shore of that lake. And wow, there’s a part of her that physically resists the idea of jumping over, of getting any closer to the black void she saw that night, like it’s a monster that can drag her in like it dragged in Wirt… but it’s a monster that Greg is dipping his little fingers into, so she takes a breath and sucks it up and jumps.
She lands on the rickety tracks of a rail line, quickly gets out of the way, and hurries down the steep slope as fast as she dares.
“Greg!” She snaps, and the boy looks up with a grin.
“You’re here!” He lets her take his hand, but digs his heels in when she pulls him back. “Hey, wait, I haven’t shown you yet!”
“Dude, I am in so much trouble when we get back to your Mom. You can’t go running off on me like that!”
“But wait! If you look at the water-”
“Seriously, Greg, you’re going home. Don’t make me carry you, okay?”
“But-”
And then there’s a loud noise - a horn? Sara blinks and looks up at the hill; she can see a light coming through on the far edge of the wall. Is that a train? She’d never heard a train pass through her town before.
But a moment later, there it is. An old black steam train puffs its way around the corner, followed by car after car of heavy freight. She can’t see the end of the line anytime soon; she can only hear Greg’s excited giggle.
“We’re stuck!” He says, like that’s a good thing. “Now you can look at the water!”
“Wh-” Sara starts; she glances around them, but it’s thick forests to either side, and with a groan, she realises he’s right. “Ugh, okay, fine. I’ll take a look, alright?”
She needs to take a deep breath first; she feels Greg squeeze her hand a little tighter. And then, letting it out with a puff of clouded air, Sara looks at the lake.
It’s… not the void she remembers. Not right now, anyway. Right now, the red-gold rays of the sun are shining down on it; ducks are drifting across, sending tiny ripples over the mirrored surface. She can see the not-so-far shore reflected in it, and all around them there’s the gentle rustlings and buzzings of nature.
It’s not a void, and that might be worse, she thinks. It’s a beautiful place, but it’s beautifully… ordinary. There’s nothing special about the place her friend drowned in.
It’s like it could have happened anywhere.
“I…” Sara looks away. “I’m sorry, Greg. I don’t see what you mean.”
“Hmm, yeah, I usually come later.” Greg scratches his head. “He probably wasn’t expecting me - but he’ll come, he will! He always does!”
“Who’s gonna come?”
“Wirt!”
And he looks up at her with that smile that stabs her right in the heart. She looks away, checks to see if the train’s gone yet. It’s not, and she sighs. “Greg, I… I’m really sorry about your brother.”
And she feels his hand, gripping hers so tightly, slacken just a bit. She doesn’t look at his face; her eyes are going blurry.
“I miss him too, you know? I wish he was still here, but he’s… he’s not.” She sniffs, wipes her eyes. “I shouldn’t have invited him to that graveyard party. I should’ve, I could've… I could’ve done something, it’s like… like everything lined up in the worst way, and I keep thinking a-about how if one of those things happened just a little different…” She glances over at him, sees him staring up at her with those wide eyes, and tries to put on a smile. “B-but I’m just rambling, um, hey, you wanna, you wanna sit in the grass?”
Greg shakes his head. “I miss him too,” he says, after a moment, and he looks back to the water. “It’s weird that he doesn’t live with us anymore. He says he’s got Beatrice, but I think he misses Mom and Dad. And they miss him - I’ve tried eeeeverything to get them down here, but they won’t believe me!” He kicks at the grass. “It’s not fair. We had a whole adventure together, me and Wirt, and I went home and Wirt stayed there, but no one believes me. What am I s’posed to do? Oh, Jason Funderburker, can’t you just sing again? Just a little bit? I’d give you all my candy.”
The frog lets out a low ribbet, and Sara doesn't know what to say. She stares into the lake as the sky starts to dim, as the lake waters begin to darken, begin to resemble that void once more. The crickets come out, the moon starts to pick up its shine, and as she stares… Sara notices a strange light emerging from the other shore.
She looks up from the reflection, but it’s the oddest thing: it doesn’t show up when she takes her eyes off the lake. In her world, the trees at the other shore are still and black, but in the reflection, they seem to glow. Seem to rustle.
She feels Greg grip her leg; from fear, she thinks at first, but then she hears his voice, full of wonder, as he whispers:
“He’s here!”
And Sara, mouth open wide, heart hammering in her chest, watches a figure with a lantern emerge from the rippling trees and step onto the far shore.
Wirt. She doesn’t recognise him by his glowing white eyes, nor by the twisted antlers poking out from underneath that Halloween costume he still wore - no.
She recognises him by the way he acts when they lock eyes, the way he always acted on those rare days when she’d walk by his house and catch him outside: he gives a little silent yelp and backs away to hide behind a tree.
Sara can’t believe her eyes; she opens her mouth but she’s speechless. As ever, though, Greg is full of them.
“Wirt! Wirt! There you are! Hi!” He runs a little into the water, and the surface ripples. “I knew you’d show up - look! I brought Sara, isn’t that cool! And guess what? She said she didn’t listen to that super embarrassing tape you left in her jacket!”
Wirt looks like he’s trying to melt into the tree; despite everything, Sara finds a little chuckle bubbling up in her throat. Only a little one, though, and then she steps closer.
“Wirt? Is that - I can’t believe it, i-is that really you?” She glances down at Greg. “Can he… talk to us?”
“Ehh,” Greg makes a so-so motion with his hand. “It’s harder, but that’s okay, because I do most of the talking anyways! Hey, Wirt! Hey, where are you going!”
The light’s already disappearing, and her eyes go wide.
“Wh- no, wait! Wirt!” She shakes her head, then steps with a splash into the lake and the whole image ripples. The water is freezing. “Greg, what’s happening to him!”
“Aww, don’t worry, he’s just leaving.” Greg checks his wrist like he has a watch. “But that was an awfully short visit. S’probably the sticky-outy things on his head, he thinks they make his face look small.”
“But…”
“He’ll come back!” Greg grins at her. “And see? I was right! You believe me now, don’t you?”
The light is gone. Sara watches the ripples still. “You were…” she looks back at him. “You were right, but… how? How is this possible? Wha-what happened to him?”
“Well, it’s a long story-”
She swallows, hard. “Why can’t he come home?”
“Oh. He says that's ‘cause of me.”
“Because of you?”
“Yeah! That lantern he’s carrying?” Greg leans in closer. “He says that’s got me in it! And he’s gotta, he’s gotta keep me lit, or I’ll go out!”
“Go… out?” Sara says, slowly.
She looks at Greg, looks at him, and it’s strange, but in the first pale glow of moonlight, he seems… fuzzier, somehow. It’s like she’s looking at him through a lake of mirror stillness, and though he seems so present in this world, the slightest ripple could rip the curtain away and reveal him to be but a reflection of another place entirely.
“Yeah! Pshoom!”
But then he takes her hand, and it’s warm, it’s real. He smiles at her, and the odd ghostly pallor to his face seems to melt away entirely.
“I’m so glad you got to see him!” He says. “You should come back! We can try again tonight! I’ll sneak out!”
Try again… Sara looks down at the big beaming grin on his face, and sighs. She gets down on her knees. “Greg…” she starts. “You… shouldn’t come down here anymore. Not on your own.”
“Huh?”
“You can’t be sneaking out and coming here at night, it’s… dangerous! I mean there’s a big wall, there’s a train line-” she turns to look at the train and realises it’s gone - huh, she thought she'd hear it leave. “Uh, and, the lake, and all in the dark? Your parents would be so worried if they knew you were doing this!”
“But they won’t let me come visit!”
She grimaces. “I know.”
“What if - what if I sneak out with you! Then I’m not on my own anymore, right?”
“I… I can’t do that, Greg.” She watches him look down, and squeezes his hand. “I’m sorry. I believe you, I’m just… worried about you. Your parents would be worried about you too.”
“So’s Wirt,” Greg mumbles; he looks up again with a little smile. “But he can’t stop me from visiting, so I do it anyway, hehehe!” Then that smile falls. “But… you’re gonna tell my Mom and Dad, huh?”
A silence. Greg looks at the lake, and then closes his eyes.
“Okay,” he says, quieter than she’s ever heard him. “But you have to promise something, okay? You have to promise you’ll visit him.”
“Huh?”
“He’s all lonely here - if Mom and Dad won’t visit him, and I can’t visit him… then you have to visit him! You promise?”
Sara gives a watery smile. “Of course I do. You’re a sweet brother, Greg - Wirt’s lucky to have you.” Rising to her feet, she feels him latch onto her legs, and hugs him back. “I know. I’m sorry. You… you ready to go?”
He just squeezes her for a moment… but, eventually, he lets go, looks at the lake one more time, and takes her hand. “Okay,” he says, and wipes his eyes. “Bye, Wirt. I’ll come back with Mom and Dad soon, okay? But they’re probably worried about me now, so… I’ll go now. I don’t want them to get worried.”
With a sad smile, Sara takes his hand, and leads him gently up the hill.
“Thanks for coming frog hunting with me, Sara,” he’s saying. “We should do this again!”
“Haha! No.”
“But we didn’t even find any frog friends!”
“I think Jason Funderburker’s already got a friend.”
“Who’s that?”
“You, silly!”
“Oh, hehe, that’s right!”
And so they leave together, and the ripples they’d made in the lake behind them slowly smooth out with the last lights of the sun.
