Transcendence AU Writer https://archiveofourown.org/users/DannyFenton123 The views expressed in this blog are mine alone. I volunteer for the Organization for Transformative Works (“OTW”), but these views have not been approved by, and are not intended to reflect the opinions of, the OTW.
How strange, after all this time, that she was the one to be saved. With no name, no memories, and an impossible voice on the radio, it's up to her to piece together what happened to the mission.
See most updated version on Archive of Our Own.
___
Drowning. She wakes up gasping, opens her eyes to utter darkness. Her mouth opens wide, but no air, no relief; her hands come up and hit against walls.
Walls. Heart pounding, lungs screaming, she pounds against them. Something shifts, and she tries to throw herself against it but she’s strapped down–in the pitch black, her hands fumble with the straps. Somehow she finds the clasp and tears them off her and lunges against the wall and it lets her out and she lands on the hard floor.
She takes a breath, but to her horror: nothing. Air is all she can think of, but she can’t see, she can’t even stand.
Her first conscious thought: I’m not going to make it.
She can feel herself fading. As she rolls onto her back, she can even feel the desperation greying out, all the pain and terror slipping from her grasp even as she tries to hold on, tries to stay awake.
Help, she thinks. Someone… Help…
And just before she slips under the waves, she might’ve felt something on her shoulder. But she doesn’t have time to think about it.
She doesn’t think about anything, anymore.
___
Strange dreams. She’s on a boat, but she turns around and falls into the depths. She’s drowning, and she sees shapes on the surface. Shapes, watching.
She’s with someone. It feels like she knows them, but their face seems to slide off her eyes. They’re holding hands. Grass. Then it shifts, and they’re gone, and she’s drowning again.
And she’s drowning again.
And she’s drowning again.
A hand on her shoulder, and-
She gasps to life. For a moment she just breathes, mouth open, her heart beating in her throat as she tastes air, air, wonderful air!
“Oh my stars,” she says, then again: “Oh, my stars.”
Had that all been a dream? It felt so real, but she’s alive, she’s in bed, she’s… man, she can’t see for shit. Where is she?
Rubbing her eyes, she looks around the room again and sees only vague, fuzzy white shapes. Even the bedcovers are blurred; she takes her hand, and a pit starts to form in her stomach as she moves it towards her face.
“I need glasses,” she mutters. About two inches from her nose, the details finally resolve. “Yikes, I really need glasses… uh?”
And there she pauses, because the first thing she sees is that her fingernails are missing. All of them. There’s just skin where the nailbeds used to be… and then it hits her.
Why’s she so sure she had nails?
Why’s she so surprised she needs glasses?
Who, uh…
Who is she, again?
“Oh, shit,” she jumps out of bed, then wobbles a little. “Okay… okay! Okay, we’re not gonna panic, okay, okay oh-kay! Control! Control, you there?!”
Control–why’s she shouting for Control? She–and stars, what the hell is her name?–decides not to worry about that right now.
“Uh, yeah, Control, anybody at Control right now?” She knocks over something as she stumbles to the wall… there’s some sort of counter here? Is she in the medbay? “I’m at… I think I’m at the medbay–are we on a ship or something, we gotta be… yeah, hello?! Anybody? Can someone get me some stupid glasses?!”
No response. Swallowing down her panic, she leans on the counters and makes her way to the door-shaped thing on the other side of the room. There are things on the counters; something clatters to the ground, so she feels along the surface and picks up something else.
Holding it to her face, she realises it’s…
“A scalpel.” With a grimace, she looks down at her bare feet. “Noo idea where I dropped the other one, that’s great, that’s, that’s just wonderful.”
Inching along, she thankfully doesn't step on any blades before she makes it to the door. And it does seem to be a door! There's some sort of keypad-shape on the side, but almost on reflex she puts her thumb on the top; the light flashes green, and the door slides open.
“Huh. That’s how you open doors.” Something’s on the sensor; leaning in closer… then a little closer again, she realises they’re: “Oh, shit, words! ‘Chf Tech M Patel…’ Chief Technician Patel, that’s me!”
Man, isn’t it a low bar to be excited by your own name. “Patel, Patel, Patel,” she mutters, feeling her way through the doorway. “Hello? Anyone around, it’s, it’s Patel! Anyone alive out there?!”
Only the low hum of the lights answers her. With a pit in her stomach, M decides she’s not going to ask that question again. Come on, focus–she obviously knows this place, even if it looks like a blurry mess to her right now. She’s gotta find the control room, the bridge, the cockpit… somewhere to signal for help!
Her legs are wobbling under her, so she takes a moment to sit against the wall, to breathe. This is… this is fine. Hey, you’re not dying, right, you can figure this out!
(Gasping for breath-)
M takes a deep, shuddering gulp of air. See? Atmosphere is breathable, so the life support systems must be fine. And if they’re fine, everything else is fixable.
…
“Life support systems,” she mutters to herself, slowly, trying out the syllables. “Where the hell am I?”
Looking around again, it’s all just white–she’s not gonna find anything out, sitting here. Pulling herself upright, she keeps a hand on the wall as she shuffles forwards.
It doesn’t take long for her fingers to brush across another door. First she looks through the window–a blink, a groan, and she fumbles to open it up. At least the keypads are black; another tap with her thumb, and it slides open.
There are darker shapes in this room… storage? She walks closer, leans right up to the closest shelves–oh, it’s not a shelf, it’s aeroponics! Growing plants!
M doesn’t know why that’s the word that comes to mind when she sees layers of tubes with little holes in them… especially as there don’t seem to be any plants growing right now.
“Hm,” she lingers in there for a moment, wondering what to make of that. “Well, that’s something.”
Onward. M keeps going down the long, long hallway, stopping in every door she passes. The next one is storage; she spends a little time sifting through dusty boxes of seeds and nutrigels, but there’s nothing she can use. She finds a dormitory with four beds set into the walls, and almost jumps for joy when her hand brushes across a pair of glasses on the end table.
“Ah, score, finally!” She says as she puts them on and… “How are these worse? How?”
Taking them off, she manages to make out the problem.
“You gotta be kidding me, reading glasses?! Screw you, uh…” And she leans in really close to the nameplate. “Dr Arnold R Hurst? Yeah!”
He does seem to offer an apology; feeling out the guitar next to a chest of drawers, she finds an old DSLR camera with a neckstrap. No charge, but she takes it–if she can just find a battery, maybe she can see through the digital viewfinder.
It bounces against her chest as she keeps going, keeps looking through rooms. More beds, workspaces, a canteen–signs of so many people, yet empty, every one. Panic has smoothed out into a dull, steady dread, a pit in her stomach that only grows under the quiet hum of the lights. Someone would have come by now, she thinks. Someone left those coffee mugs on their desks, hung up those pictures by their beds.
So many someones were here once… and there wasn’t even a hint of where they went. M stares at the smiling faces of some family at a park, and sets the frame down on their bed. She sighs.
The next room… the next room confuses her.
“Medbay,” she reads on the front–she’d realised the doors are labelled. “Huh, another one.”
It was an old pattern now: scan thumb, beep, door slides open. She takes a few steps in, and feels something cold and metal under her heel.
“Hmm?” Bending down, she grasps it–and feels it slice through her finger. “Ah, shit! Ow!”
Red’s oozing out of her finger; with a grimace, she finds the counter, feels around in a couple cupboards… what’s this, tissues, fine. She grabs a handful and presses them to her finger.
Then the wheels start to turn. She woke up in a medbay… and dropped a scalpel. Looking at the bed, M sees the covers have been tossed aside.
“I… I woke up here,” she says, and blinks. “I walked… I walked one way, and I’m back to where I started.”
What the hell? Shuffling out of the medbay, she looks up and down the hallways, but she can’t make sense of it. That’s not, that’s not physically possible.
Her eyes settle on the opposite wall. With a frown, she shuffles across the hall, and details slowly emerge. Huh–there’s a lot more signs on this side.
“To cockpit ladder,” M reads, and takes a moment to run her hand down her face. “Of, course, of course! Not like that’s important enough to put on both sides… whatever.”
There’s a nice big orange line to follow now. M scowls when she comes across a bright yellow ladder leading up through the ceiling–you’d have to be almost blind to miss it.
“Grav warning,” she reads out some big red letters next to the ladder. “Oh-kay, then.”
There isn’t much to do but climb, and for the first few rungs, everything feels normal. As she climbs higher, though, a strange lightness comes over her; she feels her stomach start to turn and wonders if she’s about to faint, but no… no, the heavy camera around her neck, it’s getting lighter.
It’s starting to float. She’s starting to float.
“What the hell?” M breathes. She climbs higher, and has to hook her toes under the rungs. “Where am I?”
As if being almost blind in normal gravity wasn’t bad enough: she reaches the top, and clings on for dear life as her body floats up. Thankfully there are more yellow rungs, and another big ‘COCKPIT’ sign leading her forwards.
Batting the camera out of her face, she makes her way to the end of the room. At first she thinks the next rungs are gone, but then she sees them glide past. The next room… the next room is rotating?
Then it hits her: no.
She’s rotating.
She’s been rotating; the whole structure downstairs, that’s why it looped back around! It was one big circle, a centrifuge spinning to generate artificial gravity!
Looking forward, M doesn’t have to make out any details in that great black expanse to know exactly what it is.
“Space,” she says, and her voice sounds so quiet against the pounding in her ears. “I’m in space. I’m in a spaceship. That’s where I am, I’m in a fucking spaceship.”
The rungs are coming around again. Grabbing them, M climbs her way into the cockpit.
“I’m in a spaceship,” she’s still muttering, still waiting for it to sink in. “I’m in a spaceship, I’m in a spaceship and there’s no one here, I’m alone in a spaceship in space and I can’t see and this is great, this is sooo great, this is wonderful, now where’s the fucking radio?”
The rungs end juuust before she could reach the chairs; ugh, she’s gonna have to jump, isn’t she? Gritting her teeth and swearing under her breath, she leans back, and pushes herself forwards as gently as she can. Of course her hand catches on something; she starts to spin, and makes some very dignified shrieking noises before she wraps herself around a headrest. With that done, she maneuvers into the seat, straps herself loosely down, and leans forward to peer at all the tiny buttons in this thing.
“Radio, radio, radio,” She squints up and down the panel. “Agh, I am so sick of not being able to see! Come on, brain, you’re chief technician! You know where it is!”
Think, think! Hmm, it looks like there’s other chairs; one right next to her, and then a blob of the same red colour off to the side. Off to the side–right, that’s the guy who handles radio calls to Earth!
Clambering from seat to seat–constantly brushing that stupid camera out of her face–M floats herself down into the third chair. Her hand immediately goes to the receiver; she can’t see what it’s set to, but for now, she turns it on and brings the mic to her face and crosses her fingers and her toes as she opens her mouth.
“Hello?” She says, then: “Mayday, Mayday, Mayday, Munich, this is, this is… ah, I don’t know, it’s the space ship you guys sent up, there’s a big problem! Do you read me?”
Static. M can only wait a few anxious seconds before she tries again.
“Come in, Munich. Are you reading me?”
Nothing… but even as she’s talking, M realises it’ll be minutes at best before she hears anything back. They’re in space–where they are or what they’re doing, she’s got no idea, but it’ll take six minutes from Mars, and it only goes up from there.
Since she doesn’t see a big blue blob taking up the whole window… well, she’s better off trying all the frequencies instead of waiting for a response.
Just as she’s reaching for the receiver, though, there’s a sudden crackle that makes her heart leap into her throat.
“Uhhh, hi,” says a voice–an actual voice! M scrambles to turn up the audio. “Yeah, this is, uh, Munich, I can hear you. Don’t worry, okay? My name’s Tyrone, and I’m gonna help you.”
Her eyes are wide, her mouth open. And before she can respond:
“I promise,” he says. “You’re gonna be just fine.”
Return, to the Scene of the Crime - Chapter 27 (Final)
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.
“That story,” Dipper didn’t ask. And his mother didn’t turn around, her eyes didn’t light up with warm curiosity. “In the car, you were gonna tell me why our family’s connected to the Circle.”
And his mother didn’t reply, couldn’t reply. It was a path not taken, a moment washed away by red tides… and yet, in Alcor’s head, in the curse and the blessing of his omniscience, he could bring it back. He could play it out.
“Oh… oh, right! Of course, sweetie.”
Sirens. Ronald Quicksilver, already staring worriedly through the windows, watched the cruisers come rolling in, one after another after another. He stood abruptly, wide eyes blinded by blue and blue and red and red, his shadow stuttering on the back wall.
“It was shortly after the California apocalypse. My great-great-great… ah, I forget how many greats, but I was named after her, you know. She was Eva Quicksilver, too, and she was a mortician from San José.”
“GET ON THE GROUND!” Black tactical gear, guns with lights and scopes. When Ronald struggled to kneel they shoved him down, and came surging through the hallways, shouting, kicking in doors, breaking things.
“San José?”
“It’s an old city, dear. One of the ones taken in the California Incident… and if Eva hadn’t been on holiday, she’d’ve been gone along with it. As it was, she lost everything, her home, her business, her pets, her friends, her entire family.”
Ronald cowered on the floor, hands up, as masked figures yelled things at him; all the words in the world to ask what was going on, what happened, where’s his family–they got stuck as they always did. No patience, no space to explain. Glass shattered from the kitchen as they drew handcuffs-
“She, of all people… she should have hated Alcor.”
And then, they passed him by. As he sat alone, his back against the wall, the last innocent morning ripped away even as the sun still twinkled through the trees, he felt a hand on his shoulder.
“And as the story goes, she did, at first. With nowhere to go, she offered her services, and ended up working out of an ice rink in Inyo County, dealing with bodies as fast as they came in. Just a fraction of how many really died out there, but even that was overwhelming.”
Sitting next to him, as small as a child and as old as the universe, was Alcor the Dreambender. His wings drew like curtains across the chaos outside, the stomping upstairs, the police lining up outside the crematorium. His eyes were Dipper’s eyes, and all they said, over and over, were I’m so sorry, Dad, I’m so sorry, I am so sorry.
Ronald’s eyes filled with tears, and he put his head in his hands, and he let Alcor, let Dipper, let his son draw him into the tightest embrace, squeezing like he could put the pieces back together again.
But much like another sunny morning, hundreds of years ago, there was almost nothing he could do.
“One day…”
While Ronald sobbed into his suitjacket, they were setting charges on the crematorium. Dipper watched, Alcor watched.
“One day, Eva was working alone, when she saw a figure walking amongst the rows and rows of bodies.”
Watched as the heavy door blew off its hinges.
“He seemed so small out there, so lost, so aimless. Eva thought he was a family member–he had the look of those grief-stricken souls who came for their loved ones–but she saw the wings on his back, the gold in his stare, and she didn’t hesitate.”
Watched as the men stormed in… and froze, their eyes wide behind their helmets, their guns quivering. Alcor was there, too. Even as he drew David close, he was there, his golden eyes taking in a truth he already knew, couldn’t stop knowing, couldn’t ever stop.
He watched–
“–as she raged at him. Screamed at him. Beat her fists against him, asking why, why, why did–”
–you do this, Mallory? All–
“–those people, those innocent people, it’s not your right, how could you be–”
–so monstrous? How could you be… so much like me?
Alcor walked amongst the bodies, just as he had done so long ago. He walked on a floor slick with fluids, breathed in an air that made the cops turn away and vomit. This wasn’t a scene of her bloody murders; the only victim, he sensed, was a few specks of Harry swept up with the dust under the cabinets. No, this was everything she’d let go as she spiraled ever downwards, all the corners she’d cut, all the trust she’d broken, all the shame pent up until she could only lock the doors to keep it from spilling out.
Dirty scalpels, soot-grimed counters. Body tags without their bodies, open packs of concrete dust stacked up by the urns. Three legs sticking out of the cremation machine. He could go on–the trials certainly would. They’d be particularly interested in all the bodies that came from Ianitor; prosecutors would come up with all manner of theories on how Mallory came to be behind a spree of 14 unsolved murders up and down the Federation.
“And do you know what Alcor did?”
His eyes filled with tears, but they didn’t blur like a humans’ did. She would never leave prison. His Dad would need to sell their home in disgrace.
Harry, Gemma, Angeline, so many people were dead. And for what?
“He took it. He didn’t argue, he didn’t justify what happened. He stood there, and he heard out all of her grief, and after he was gone, Eva realised a weight had lifted off her chest. She wondered why a demon had let her do that, had come down from some unreachable, unaccountable corner of the Mindscape to stand amongst the bodies and be shouted at–California had demonstrated he didn’t need to do that. No, he chose to do that.”
“He chose to be there, chose to confront the devastation he’d caused. And in time, although Eva never spoke to him again after that day, her feelings began to shift. She bought demonology books–before they were restricted, of course–and kept researching him for the rest of her life. She never settled on what to think of him, but she often talked about that meeting to her children, and they talked to their children, and soon enough, our family was one of the first members of the Circle in the Federation. Unofficially, of course.”
“And I broke that.”
“Oh, don't worry about it, sweetie. It's not your fault.”
“But it is. You're not really my Mom. I'm not really a part of this family.”
“Of course you are!”
“I'm not. I'm a demon, Mom. I'm Alcor.”
“I love you no matter who you are.”
“You’re dead because of me.”
“I forgive you.”
“I’ve ruined your life. Ruined your family. If I hadn’t tried to play human, none of this would’ve happened.”
“If you hadn’t tried, I never would have had such a wonderful son.”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? You’re not real, you’re not really her. This isn’t really what you’d say, is it?”
And Eva didn’t smile so sadly. “Oh, sweetie,” echoed the voice in his head. “You’ll never know.”
A demon’s realm was a terrible place to be. From the weakest of spirits to the most apocalyptic beings, each and every one had their little corner of the Mindscape, ‘decorated’ to their particular… tastes. It was usually a lot of blood, or a lot of fire–Alcor didn’t mind those ones so much. Pestilence demons still got to him a little; they always went all out with the gross factor, and it’s like, yeah, that’s your thing and all, but you really want to live in a lake of stinking pus or whatever? Talk about taking the job home with you.
Alcor allowed himself that little smile, before he steeled himself for Ianitor’s lair. His corner of the Mindscape was actually just across from the rolling fields of his own; his Flock grazed so peacefully within sight of a subtle slit in spacetime, all but invisible against the swirling, starry webs of pure thought that drifted in this place between places.
The Flock usually greeted him as he passed, but they kept their heads down as he stalked across the grass. He kept walking right off the boundary, his footsteps thudding on the membrane of reality, and when he reached the slit, he grabbed it with both hands, tore it open, and dove inside.
Hm.
Well, he was a bit more creative than your average demon, Alcor’d give him that. Finding himself in a maze of mirrors from floor to ceiling, it took a second for him to get his bearings. From all sides, his own blazing eyes glared him down, and every movement, every wing twitch made him jerk his head.
Oh, he did not like this–one of these reflections was gonna jump out at him for real, wasn’t it? His fists clenched.
“A̵ͪ̒l̓͡rig̣͌hṱ, Ìa̫nit̨ò̟ṟ́,” He snarled. “T̥̩hͫėr̟͆e̦͌̆'̣̑͠s͚̈́ ṭ̎̌w̶͓o way̗̖̫s th̵̍i̟̻ͣs̤ c̯͕̍â̟n͉͙ g͗o-”
“Is one of them the hard way?” Right up against his ear–the voice snorted when he jumped back. “Oh, please, Alcor, let’s not pretend there’s any universe where you go easy on me.”
“Wha-hey!” Spinning around, Alcor glowered at his reflection. “G̢̪̿etͥ̉ bą̘̩̞̔ͤ͟c̮k͌ͮ h̲͕̗̉ͦ͆̚e̙̓̃r̜e͘!”
Ianitor’s voice echoed from all around. “Hmm, no,” he said. “You can find me yourself. You should visit my knife room while you’re here. I so rarely get guests… ones in the mood to appreciate good decor, that is.”
“Keep waiting,” Alcor growled, and began to stalk down the hall. “Is this your plan? You torture m̶̯̙̥͎ͩ̉y s̱̩̒̀͞is̪̳te͖̠̹̳͚̠̣̅̀ͤr̢͚̂ and you think you can stall me out? There is nowhere in the un̶̙͋͆iv͖̗̳͞ȩ̥̝͜͜͞rş̨̧̻̰̻̟e͓̾̈̓̅̾ you can hide, Ianitor.”
“You wound me, Dreambender. You think I’m actually trying to hide?” His voice had a mock-hurt to it that Alcor couldn’t stand. “I know I can’t hide from you, and I certainly can’t match you in a fight.”
“So, what, you’re trying to talk me down?”
“You started talking first. Seemed rather rude not to respond.”
Oh, he sounded so meek and reasonable now; Alcor thought of the gloating demon in the forest, and his lip curled. “ṠH̵͍͕Ù̘͎T U͓̅̔P̟̒!̑̿̕” he snarled; he came up against one of the mirror-walls, and shattered it with a swipe. “Don’t act so i̋̓n̞n͑͟͜o̓c͙͕͑e̛̯̎nt̽͒̒. You know what you did!”
“You really are upset about that human, aren’t you?” Alcor could hear his insufferable smirk. “Ah, Mallory Quicksilver… that really was my finest work. It’s a shame Sagar let you out; I was hoping to get a few more years out of her before you tore me to pieces, but, ah… what do the humans say? Worth it.”
Alcor could feel the void creeping into his form. His fists clenched infinitely tight; he blew open a door into a room filled with knives hanging utterly still from the ceiling, and with a swipe of his hand he crumpled the whole space into a marble and hurled it against another one of those damned mirrors. He could swear his reflection grinned before it exploded into glittering dust.
“Temper, temper. Did I get the phrase wrong? I know you’re the human expert of the two of us, but you don’t have to be rude about it.”
“I’d rather not.” And when Alcor growled and continued stalking forwards: “Hey, Dreambender, there’s been a question I’ve wanted to ask you. What do you… what do you think a demon is?”
He didn’t dignify that with a response, but Ianitor kept going.
“No, really, I’m just, ah, I’m a little confused what you want from me, here.”
“I want you to s̷̘̥̀ͨh̨͎̣ͩ̇̂͟utͯ̓ͨ u͉ͯ͜p̣͒͑͢ a̰̤ͮͫͣ̏n̞̐d̴̖̗ͮ͊ͅ d̳̖͗̽̀i̛̭ͩͭ̚e͖̝̣͐ͦ̕.”
“Yes, I gathered. But look, I may have nudged Mallory in a few places-”
“Nụ̢̋ͧ͟d̷g̬̳͊ed?!”
“-but you know, the first time I met her, she was already summoning a demon to kill her friend’s dad.” Out of the corner of Alcor’s eye, one of his reflections shrugged; he blasted it to pieces, but Ianitor continued. “I’m just saying, I’m a murder demon, she’s a murderer–it’s kind of in my remit, isn’t it?”
“The first time you ‘met’ her–when you kͧ̎i̙l̂le̢͗̈́d̠ Angeline?”
A snort. “Angeline, yes, you’re using that name like you didn’t just remember she exists. Look, I’m not saying I get human morals–I like torturing murderers ‘cause they’re interesting! So many other demons, they’re all in with their cults and ‘blood of the innocents’, and to each his own, but do you know how boring innocent humans are? What are you gonna sink your claws into, that time they took a candy bar from the store or whatever? Oh, please. Give me some real darkness!”
Alcor scowled at a wall. Where was he going with this?
“Anyway, my point is, I may not be some good guy, but I don’t think humans mind me as much as the other demons out there. I mean, hey, we were neighbors for centuries, and you never noticed me.” The reflection before him suddenly broke into a grin. “Do you really have a problem with me picking on murderers? Or is it just this murderer?”
“I…” Alcor started, then clenched his teeth. “I don't need to justify myself to you. You're lying; it's not just guilty people you mess with! Xiaofan, Marsh-that whole mansion, you-”
“You gotta be kidding me,” Ianitor said, and leaned in before Alcor could respond: “Come on, it’s just a little collateral! A little something to hook them in–who'd summon me if I didn't get them out of their messes first? Hey, it's not like I destroyed, say, a whole state for no-ack!”
Leaned too far; Alcor grabbed his reflection with voided claws, and peeled him out of the mirror.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Now there was a tremor in Ianitor’s voice. Hands up, he tried for a smile. “Alright, Dreambender, I upset you, I get it! I can make it right, uh, how about a deal?”
“No de̩̥ͩä̓l̩s̽.”
The claws squeezed tighter around his neck. “Okay, no deals, no–h-how about an agreement? You want souls? I got souls!”
“Sure, sure, sure, but–augh!–hey, I do a lot of good work!” Ianitor strained away from those glowing eyes. “I’m a part of the ecosystem, who’s gonna be mopping up all the murderers around the world if I’m not there?! I get thank you’s, you know! Humans who never got justice except when I entered the picture, are you gonna do a better job? Let’s make a bet, Dreambender: if you can-”
And Alcor sank his teeth into Ianitor’s head. There was a terrible screaming for the second it took to buckle the skull; for every pop and crack a glass pane shattered around them, louder and louder and faster and faster until it all gave way and his teeth met and silence. Unceremoniously, Alcor pulled the body apart and plucked the flickering light of Ianitor’s soul out of the mess.
Holding it by a strand, he wiped his chin and allowed himself a grim smile at the helpless little flutters–not so talkative now, was he?
…
But his smile quickly faded, and nothing he would do to Ianitor brought it back. He didn’t feel satisfied by the time he was done, he just felt… tired. Tired and troubled, the grasping last words of a desperate demon still striking at something deep.
Are you gonna do a better job?
He sat in his Mindscape for a little bit, feeling the grass between his bloody fingers, letting the void drain out as he watched the Flock graze. Still tired. Still turning that question in his mind, over and over and over again.
This was the same hospital Mallory was born in. A ways down the hall, past some turns and through a couple keypadded doors, and there was the NICU. Alcor remembered it well–standing invisibly amongst the rows and rows of incubators, seeing all the souls settling into tiny bodies wrapped up with tubes and masks and hopes and little hats. He was always aware of his power, but that room made him feel like a bull standing in a china shop; he kept his wings close, and he hardly dared to breathe as he approached her.
They’d summoned him deep in the woods, Ronald and Eva. Back then they were just two robed figures in a circle of eight–he realised now, a very large Circle gathering for Federation standards. Two of them didn’t even know his Mom and Dad; they’d gotten a call and driven hours to help. The other four were old family friends from the floating isles, and with just a few words from Alcor, they were soon to drift away:
“Yeah, yeah, I’ll save your daughter, deal. But listen, if you’re going to raise me, I don’t want human me to hear a word about all this Circle stuff. I just want a normal life, okay?”
Dipper remembered wondering why his parents never seemed to have any friends as a kid. Now that he was Alcor, he couldn’t help but wonder why he’d ever thought this was going to work out.
Did he ever think, when it came to these things? What had Mallory been to him back then, before he’d even laid eyes on her, but another Mabel, another Belle, another hope, another chance?
She’d been everything to him… everything but a person.
Her family history, the Circle kids she would’ve played with, the mentors she would’ve grown up with–the ones that dropped everything to help her parents do an illegal demon summoning in the middle of the night–they were all stripped from her life by a demon who thought he could customise his experience, a demon who thought he could make a few little tweaks and end up with Belle again. But Ronald and Eva weren’t Lionel, and Mallory… Oh, Mallory.
He wasn’t standing in the NICU anymore. Through a couple keypadded doors, past some turns, and a ways up the hall lay another room altogether. Two police officers stood outside the doorway to this dark and stuffy space, the sun glowing on curtains drawn to keep out the press. No rows of incubators; there was just one bed, one monitor keeping up a steady, mindless beep, and its occupant.
In a strange way, Mallory suited a hospital gown. She looked sick without her glass charm; her face gaunt, her body thin and bruised, her scalp mottled with bare patches. The Woodsman had taken its revenge, and her arms were both covered with thick bandages, ending too far up her limbs.
They rested gingerly by her sides as she lay there, her faraway eyes gazing through some home renovation show. She looked on the verge of falling asleep, but she noticed Alcor coming as soon as he stepped through the door.
Those eyes. In the darkness, they glinted like daggers. The shackle on her ankle jangled as she sat up; she’d seemed so weak and listless just a moment ago, but the white-hot fury in her aura had revived her, and an entirely new face glowered up at him.
She didn’t speak a word–whether it was because of the cops outside, or because she had nothing to say to him, he didn’t want to know. The monitor ticked up, beeping faster. After a moment of silent, seething hatred, she turned away, and lay on her side facing the wall.
The message was clear.
With a sigh, Alcor let her be; he took a step back, and his foot landed on carpet. There was a TV playing here, too, one that quickly shut off as soon as his presence was noticed.
“-at the scene of Quicksilver Funeral Home & Crematory, where we can see bodies are still being-”
“Alcor!” Lucy Ann tossed the remote aside and put on a smile. “Hey, dude.”
“Hey,” Alcor managed, and then… and then what? There was so much to say, but he was so, so tired. He looked around the room instead. “Hotel?”
She nodded. “Yeah… well, more of a motel, really.” She sat back on the double bed. “Thanks for getting me and Xiaofan out of there. You know, heh, I was happy to be in Canada for about five seconds before I remembered the weather. How do people live with this much snow?”
With a snort, she gestured at all the snowdrifts outside. Alcor didn’t laugh.
“Xiaofan, is she-?”
“Back with her folks.” Lucy Ann made a face. “I, ah, may have promised you’d go talk to her about what happened.”
“Is she going to tell?”
“About your human stunt? Hell no, she doesn’t want anything more to do with that case. As far as anyone’s concerned, she and I weren’t even in the country that day… but, ah,” and she fixed Alcor with a look. “I think she’d like an explanation.”
An explanation. He sat down hard on the end of the bed, his shoulders bowed. “Yeah,” he said, quietly. “Yeah, that… that’s fair. It’s a weird thing I did, isn’t it?”
Lucy Ann shrugged obliquely. “No weirder than your usual stuff,” she said, but when he didn’t laugh, she switched tack. “Hey, it wasn’t just you. I shouldn’t have messed with you like I did. I thought it’d be fun to see what you were like as a human, but… yeah, I should’ve known better. I should’ve known it would make things complicated.”
“What do you mean?” He looked up at her. “I liked hanging out with you.”
“Heh, you didn’t always.”
“I mean, I remember being confused why you were there. And I could tell you were keeping something back–that annoyed me.” He gave a little laugh. “I used to be the kid who wanted to know everything. I guess I still am, when... But no, I’m glad you were there. I was sad when you left, I thought we were good friends.”
“Aren’t we?”
“Of course we are! I’m just speaking from…” He trailed off, searching for the words. “It’s kinda weird, coming back after these times. I was always me, but Dipper Quicksilver still feels… separate, you know? Like I’m two different people.”
“Makes sense.” Her smile was slight. “Well, tell Dipper Quicksilver that we were friends. I liked hanging out with him, too.”
For the first time since he’d come back to himself, Dipper felt a bit of warmth in his chest. He lay back, and found the remote by his ear.
“Wanna watch something?” He asked. Lucy Ann shrugged.
“Not a lot on, but sure, if you can find something.”
Alcor considered turning it on normally–he remembered what it was set to, so he snapped his fingers, and it flicked onto the midseason of some tv show.
“Nice trick,” Lucy Ann said. He managed the ghost of a grin.
“Hey, there’s some perks I missed.”
He snapped again: advert. Another snap led them to a sitcom, and then to a police drama he really wasn’t in the mood for.
“Yeah, I told you there’s not much on.”
“Hmm…” Alcor changed it one more time, and found himself watching the same home reno show that was on in Mal’s hospital room. His first instinct was to recoil; he didn’t want to think about her right now, didn’t want a hint of the mess he’d have to deal with in the coming months, years, decades… but he hesitated.
“Oh, are we watching this?” Lucy Ann saw his pause as interest, and settled in. “Yeah, sure.”
That was it, then. With the snow drifting peacefully outside, Alcor let himself sink into the mattress, let himself rest in the comfortable sounds of this moment before the hard days to come.
And somewhere a world away, his sister was doing exactly the same.
It wasn’t much of a connection. But it was all he had, for now.
Look at this amazing drawing @wheatcak3 drew of Mallory and Harry from Return to the Scene of the Crime! Thank you so much Wheat I'm going to stare at it forever <3
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.
Thank you so much to @biplet for beta reading this chapter! You can find her awesome stories here (I highly recommend Portal Fantasy!)
Scream. What an inadequate word for the awful sound Dipper heard that day. It passed through him like a gunshot; he and his Mom both whipped around to stare in horror into the shadowy path that lay before them.
“Wh-what was that?” Mal started. “Weird, did you- hey, wait!”
But Dipper and his mother took off running. Swearing under her breath, Mal stumbled to follow.
Through the trees. Through the bushes. Dipper saw his Mom running beside him in flashes, but another, louder scream echoed out and he couldn’t focus on her, couldn’t focus on anything but the next step. And the next. And the next and the next and the next and-
“Get away from me!”
That voice, that was Marsh! She was close–his heart was beating so fast it burned but he forced himself faster, faster!
“I’m warning you, get away! Get AWAY!”
Come on, man, come on!
But just as he was coming up to a thicket–
BANG!
It was just as deafening as the first time he heard it. Dipper’s blood went cold; he didn’t remember tripping, but suddenly he was on the ground, hands splayed out in front of him, breath coming fast and hard and yet somehow still not enough.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
Shouting–Dipper could hardly hear it over the ringing in his ears. He was struggling to stay in the forest; suddenly all he could think of was Marsh’s apartment, Harry’s voice, the gun pressed against his- no! Focus: he had to get up, he had to help!
Marsh was in trouble! Think about Marsh, think about Marsh!
BANG-vmmm!
Another gunshot; it seemed to whizz right over his head, and Dipper… Dipper felt all the courage he thought he had come up against pure, base, animal survival.
He didn’t try to get up. In blind terror, he scrambled to bury himself in the thicket, his heart pounding in his ears, one thought on loop drowning out everything else.
He didn’t want to die. No, he didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to die, he didn’t want to die!
One day, with all the knowledge in the universe, Dipper would look back on this moment and know exactly what happened. He’d know his Mom didn’t spot him buried in the branches; all she knew was he’d ran out ahead of her, and there were gunshots, and there wasn’t a thought in her mind but getting to him as fast as she could.
He’d know this, but that was later. This was now, and all he saw in a fog of panic was a flash of shoes, a rustle of bushes, and one, final, terrible sound.
BANG-BANG!
Dipper didn’t know how long he huddled here like a rabbit in its den; it could’ve been a hundred years, or a couple seconds. The next thing he knew was another set of shoes–they slowed to a stop in front of him, and he thought: Mal’s shoes.
“Mom! Dipper!” Her voice had a desperate edge to it, and the shoes turned to face him. “Wh-Dipper! What are you doing in there?!”
“I-I-” Dipper started, but in one movement she reached in and yanked him out.
“Where’s Mom?”
“I don’t- I, I-”
“Please!” Marsh’s voice tore through the air, just behind the thicket. “Please, please just leave me alone! Just leave me ALONE!”
Mal’s head snapped up. “What the hell is he…” she muttered, almost unconsciously, then gripped Dipper’s shoulders. “Come on!”
Dipper didn’t have time to protest; branches dragged at his legs as he tried to stop them buckling under him. Then they burst into a clearing, and his whole world narrowed to two things:
“No! Don’t come any closer!”
The trembling barrel of Marsh’s gun pointed right at their faces, and-
“MOM!”
The back of their Mom as she lay in the grass, curled into a little ball. Her sweater had roses on it. It wasn’t like that this morning, why did it have roses on it?
Why did it have roses on it?
Mal ran to her, but-
BANG-BANG!
The shots went low; dust kicked up in front of them, and Dipper heard a cracking past him as they ricocheted into the trees. Mal dove for the ground and held her hands up as Marsh turned the gun on her.
“I said don’t move, Collins!” Marsh screamed right at her. “St-stop chasing me, just leave me alone!”
“Marsh?!” Dipper started, and gulped when the gun switched to him. “What are you doing, i-it’s us! Marsh, it’s us!”
“Put the gun down! It’s not real!” shouted Mal, and then: “Take off the bracelet!”
The bracelet? Somewhere in the terror of the situation, Dipper caught sight of something red on Marsh’s wrist–a ribbon?
But it was like Marsh hadn’t heard any of that. Her face was a rictus of terror as she started backing up, squeezing the gun ever-tighter.
“Stop coming closer!” She screamed, even as Dipper and Mal stayed frozen. “I said, stop! Stop! STOP!”
And Mal covered her head, and Dipper tensed up, and-
Click.
Marsh blinked. Then she jumped back, scrambling to clear the magazine. Mal took her chance; arms outstretched, yelling like a madman, she charged Marsh and tackled her to the ground. The gun went flying out of her hands, and the two of them wrestled together on the grass.
And Dipper stood there. Eyes wide, heart pounding, dread rising like bile in the back of his throat. It felt like swimming in molasses to move,but he forced himself to turn, and to look at his mother.
She was wearing a red sweater now. Rolled onto her side, one hand clutching her chest, she struggled to rise, and the sight of her… suddenly this wasn’t a dream anymore.
“Mom,” he breathed, then louder: “MOM!”
He stumbled as he rushed to her; his leg burned, must’ve scratched it in the thicket. Falling to her side, his hands trembled over her chest. There was so, much, blood. He didn’t even know where she’d been hit.
“Oh my god,” he tried to press down, and recoiled when she gasped. “Sorry, sorry! I- oh, my god. Oh, my god!”
What was he supposed to do?! Ambulance, ambulance–phone!
He dove for his pockets and nearly launched it out of his shaking hands. The screen stuttered on his bloody fingers and he just tapped harder and harder and harder–work, work! It had to work!
“Come on, come on–what? No!” The call didn’t go through–no signal. “No, no, no, no, no, no! Please! Please!”
A touch on his arm. Dipper flinched; looking away from his phone, his eyes landed on his mother’s hand… and then he looked at her. He looked at her, at her warm smile on blue lips, at the dimples on her paling cheeks, at the glittering shine in her eyes as she stared up at him, unblinking, like she wanted to remember every detail of this moment.
And Dipper knew why. His vision blurred as he shook his head. “No, Mom. N-no, come on.” His throat was getting tight. “Just hold on, okay? I-I’ll find something, I’ll find, I’ll…”
Her hand reached slowly up, and cupped his cheek, her thumb gently brushing the tears away. Then it rose higher, and swept his hair to the side.
With dimming eyes, Eva Quicksilver gazed at the starry birthmark on his forehead. Peace flowed over her face, draining out all the tension, all the worry, and she mouthed something he couldn’t decipher–something like a prayer.
Then her hand relaxed, too. It started to slip from his face before Dipper grabbed it.
“No, Mom! No, no, no, don’t-!” He shook her; her half-lidded eyes lost their focus, and stared past him. “Mom! Wake up, Mom! MOM!”
But it was too late.
Dipper knew what corpses looked like.
He closed his eyes, and pressed her hand into his face as the sobs started to wrack his body.
And all that time, Mal had been watching. Watching, her wet eyes flickering between shock and horror and a growing, terrible rage. All she could hear in her ears, drowning out everything else, was this neverending, godawful, unbearable cackling laughter. Her breath was coming fast; a tear splashed her cheek and she jumped, rubbed it furiously.
Racked the pistol, and turned to face the figure slowly rising from the grass.
“What have you…” Her voice cracked, and she swallowed it down. “What have you done, Khady?”
Marsh was holding her head; she’d taken a punch, and her world was still spinning. “Mal…?” Then she tried to jump to her feet. “Collins! Mal, he’s-”
“What are you talking about?” Mal stuffed the bracelet into her pocket. “Harry’s not fucking here, you shot my fucking Mom!”
“What? No. No, I saw him!” Marsh’s eyes landed on the scene in the grass; she blinked, shook her head. “No, that’s not- he was charging me! He had a knife, I-”
“Shut UP!” And when Marsh opened her mouth she thrust the gun right in her face. “Admit it, you shot her! You did this! YOU!”
“Whoa, Mal-”
“YOU DID THIS TO HER!” Mal was shaking with rage. “You killed my fucking Mom! She’s dead because of you, SAY IT!”
“Mal, I-I swear-”
“FUCKING SAY IT!”
Marsh stared down the barrel of the gun, her eyes as wide as saucers. “I…” she started, in a very small voice. “I killed your Mom. I’m so… Mal, I don’t know what to say. I-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-”
“Yeah, yeah, tell it to a fucking judge!” Mal gestured around the bright clearing. “Like anyone’s going to believe you. Tell me, how the hell did you mistake my Mom for Harry? Huh?”
“I-I… he was there! We got split up, a-and he was chasing me through the forest-”
“No, you ran off on your own.” Mal nodded to herself. “Yeah, you ran off on your own, and we were coming to help you when you just started shooting around like a maniac!”
“No! I-”
“And now my Mom is dead, and it’s all your fault! You’re a murderer, a FUCKING MURDERER!”
Marsh kept shaking her head, but her wild eyes were darting around the scene; her breath was coming faster and faster and her hands came up to grab at her chest.
“No, no, no, no,” she shook her head. “No, no, no, I-I couldn’t, I couldn’t have, I- no, no, no!”
Mal curled her lip in disgust. She could see Dipper rising to his feet, so she lowered the pistol and left Marsh hyperventilating on the ground.
“Dipper- whoa, shit, Dipper!” She spied a red stain on his leg before he stumbled into her arms. “Sit down, dude, you’re bleeding!”
It was like he didn’t even hear her. “Mal, she’s… I couldn’t… what are we gonna do?” He clung to her. “Dad, he’s still at home, he doesn’t-, oh my god, oh my god, she’s dead! She’s dead!”
“C-calm down!” Mal hugged him back–but only for a moment, and she sat him down on the ground. “Let’s all just calm down, o-okay? Let me think.”
“I couldn’t get any signal,” he kept on babbling as she rolled up his jeans; there was a little hole in his calf, weeping red. “I really tried, Mal, I- what are we gonna do? D-do we go for help? I can run, I can run out of the forest, I can drive-”
“Stop it,” Mal gritted her teeth as the laughter only rose. “Shut up. Just shut up.”
“She’s right,” said a quiet voice. “You’re in no condition to move.”
Dipper looked up, and Mal followed his gaze; Marsh had walked over. She stood a distance away, hugging herself, her eyes trained on the ground just in front of their mother.
And as they watched, she took a deep, shuddering breath. “I’ll go for help.” she said. “There should be signal in the parking lot, I’ll call the police and… tell them what happened.”
Mal blinked. “What?” She jumped to her feet. “You can’t do that, they’ll arrest you!”
“As they should, I…” Marsh’s jaw trembled for a moment before she clenched it. “You’re right. It doesn’t matter what I thought I saw, it’s my responsibility to know what I’m shooting at and I… I’ve done something, unforgivable. I’m so, so sorry, I’m so sorry.”
Dipper gazed at her. “What happened, Marsh?”
“I don’t know. I-I don’t know how to explain it.” She couldn’t look him in the eyes. “But I’m gonna make this right, okay?”
Mal was watching this with widening eyes. “Wait, wait, hang on!” she said, jumping to her feet. “Let’s not- l-let’s think about this, alright? Do you have any idea what’s gonna happen if you go to the police?”
“Of course I do.”
“But-! But, haha, let’s not pretend you’re ‘making anything right’, Khady. Is going to the police gonna bring her back?” She pointed at their mother’s body, and stepped closer when Marsh looked away. “No, seriously, think about it!”
“Mal?” Dipper raised an eyebrow. “I don’t… what are you saying?”
“I’m saying, I’m saying…” She reached out, and clamped a hand down on Marsh’s shoulder. “We’re her friends! She fucked up bad, but do we really, do we want her thrown in jail? Do we want her kicked out of college? Do we want to put her face all over newspapers, ‘Khady Sall, cold-blooded murderer’? I-I mean, shit, they’re probably gonna try and link her to Gemma!”
Marsh shuddered at the thought, but still she frowned. “I don’t get where you’re going with this. I killed your mother, who cares about my fucking degree?”
“You’re not-! You’re not getting this, Marsh.” Mal bared a dangerous smile. “She’s. Already. Dead. But you’re still fine! What’s the point in going to jail for this, okay, f-for a mistake! It was a mistake!”
“What are you even suggesting? We hide the body, or…” Marsh looked into Mal’s eyes, and she recoiled. “Oh, no, no. Look, Mal, I–appreciate?–what you’re trying to do for me-”
“Hide the-?!” Dipper felt the bile rising in his throat. “Mal, you can’t be serious. Please tell me you’re not serious.”
But Mal didn’t dare to look at him. “We’re giving you, an out.” She spoke slowly, carefully, staring Marsh down. “We can just put this behind us, okay? It already happened. No one else is going to believe this was an accident; this is the only option for you.”
And the forest was dead. Silent. Marsh stood there for a moment… and then she looked Mal in the eyes, and put a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re… you’re grieving, Mal, I… you’re just saying things, I get it.” She tried for a smile. “You’re a good friend, but please, don’t worry about me, okay? I did it, I deserve what happens.”
Mal stood there, absolutely still, as Marsh heaved a sigh.
“It’s for the best,” she continued, and her eyes finally met the body on the ground. “I couldn’t live with myself if I tried to cover this up.”
And Mal… Dipper couldn’t see her face, but he could see something pass over her, a full-body flinch, and then she started breathing, hard. Her shoulders shook, her nails dug into her palms as she squeezed them into white-knuckled, quivering fists.
Dipper couldn’t see her face, but Marsh could. “Mal?” she asked, stepping back. “What’s-”
And then Mal struck. Like a snake in the grass her fist came up so fast Dipper hardly saw it–suddenly, Marsh was splayed out on the ground, and Mal drew back her leg-
“FUCK YOU!” -and drove it into Marsh’s ribs and raised it again. “FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU YOU STUPID FUCKING, ARE YOU STUPID, ARE YOU FUCKING STUPID?!”
Dipper heard a sickening crack; eyes bugged out, he raised his hands. “Stop, Mal! Stop!”
She wasn’t stopping–oh my god, she wasn’t stopping! Dipper tried to get up, but his leg folded on him; he dove for her foot and held on with all his might.
“Argh, let go, let-!” Stumbling back, Mal glowered down at Dipper. “Who’s side are you on, huh?! She killed our Mom!”
“You said it was an accident!” Dipper stared at Marsh as she groaned and hugged herself. “What are you doing, Mal? You could’ve killed her!”
“Killed her, huh? Killed her?” Trembling with fury, Mal drew the pistol again. “She says it’s an accident, of course she would!”
“Mal-”
“You seriously believe her? You’re gonna let her manipulate you like this?!”
She pointed the pistol right at Marsh, who cried out and tried to get away. She got a step before crumpling back to the ground, coughing and holding her hands out in front of her. Dipper couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Mal, stop!”
“We don’t need her. She’s too stupid to follow the plan, we don’t need her!” Mal cocked the pistol. “I don’t know what I’m doing, okay, I’m, I’m not thinking straight! She pushed me to this, she shot my Mom, she shot my Mom!”
Dipper didn’t even know who he was talking to right now, but he could feel it all coming to a head. He had to do something now–his leg wouldn’t move, but he was wrapped around hers, and he did the only thing he could think of.
An awful smile was creasing Mal’s lips now. “Like you said, you did it, huh?” She loomed over Marsh. “You deserve what happ- augh!”
Dipper sank his teeth into Mal’s shin, and held on tight. She jerked her leg up, stumbled, and fell backwards. Once she was on the floor he felt her hands prying at him.
“Ow! Augh, let me go, you’re hurting me!” Her fingers pushed into his mouth. “Let… me… go!”
Forcing his jaw down, Mal managed to get out; she scrambled backwards, one hand clamped around her leg.
“Um, ow!” She glowered at him, limping to her feet. “What the hell, Dipper! Do I need a fucking rabies shot?”
But Dipper just stared up at her, and the fury in her face was shifting to something else.
“The bracelet,” Dipper said, barely above a whisper. Mal set her jaw. “You said, take off the bracelet.”
Mal didn’t respond. She looked away, trying for a dismissive shrug, but there was too much tension in it. Dipper had a terrible feeling in his stomach.
“Y-you said it’s not real,” his ears were ringing. “When Marsh was-, you said ‘it’s not real’, what did you mean by that?”
“I don’t-, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Mal-”
“I didn’t say that, I-I didn’t say anything like that! You must be misremembering, or, or-” She wrung her hands, working herself up. “I don’t even know what you mean by that, what are you even saying? She’s my Mom too, do you think I wanted this?! Honestly, what’s wrong with you, Dipper!”
She sounded so upset–sounded, he thought. But suddenly, with Marsh sobbing on the ground next to him, there was a performance to this, an uncanny hollowness that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand right up.
“Dipper?”
But the worst thing was, it wasn’t a new feeling at all. It was so, sickeningly familiar, and he didn’t know what to say, he didn’t know what to think.
“Well? Say something!”
Who was he talking to?
Then, a twig snapped. Footsteps, coming closer. The question echoed in his mind as he saw the blood drain from Mal’s face; whirling around to look at the sounds, she hesitated, then hid the pistol and quickly called out:
“Help! Over here, we need help!” And she shot Dipper a pale smile. “Thank god, someone’s coming!”
The bushes rustled before them. From the darkness, a small figure stepped into the sunlight-
“Oh, shit,” Mal drew her pistol.
-and threw off her hood. Dipper’s eyes widened, and a million thoughts raced through his mind as he saw a face he wasn’t sure he’d ever see again.
“You need help, huh?” Lucy Ann bared no smile in her teeth. “No, Mallory, you’ve done enough. Put the gun down.”
“The vampire,” Mal breathed. She crossed in front of Dipper. “Stay back. I-I’ll protect you!”
“Oh, fuck off!” Another voice from the shadows; Xiaofan tore into view. “What have you done this time?!”
“What have I-” Mal pointed the gun at her. “Wh-who the hell are you?”
“You know damn well who I am.” Xiaofan narrowed her eyes at Dipper. “Your sister’s a murderer. Ask her what happened to Gemma.”
Murderer. Dipper recoiled at the word, and he could see Mal shake her head.
“What are you talking about?” She risked a glance down at him. “Dipper, I don’t know what they’re talking about.”
“Then you shouldn’t care if we explain, right? Dipper,” Lucy Ann’s voice softened, and she put her hands up. “I know what’s being said about me, I… I’m sorry I left the way I did, I shouldn’t have done it like that. But you know me! You know I never would’ve done that.”
“He knows you?” Mal snorted dismissively. “I’m his sister. Dipper, I’m your sister. You honestly think I would’ve done anything to Gemma?”
Dipper’s head was spinning. “I…”
“That’s not all you’ve done,” sneered Xiaofan. “You framed me! Asked for my address the same night I got arrested, how do you explain that?”
“You think I-”
“With the stolen jewels your little Collins buddy made off with!” Xiaofan’s laugh was bitter as lemons. “You like mysteries, Dipper? The only mystery I see is how she’s gotten away with it for so long!”
“No,” He shook his head. “No, that’s-”
“Crazy, you're right!” Mal was backing up. “They’re coming for us, Dipper. We gotta get out of here!”
She had a hand on his shoulder, her grip warm and vicelike and familiar and alien. The two of them were inching ever-closer, pausing every time Mal switched the gun on them.
Behind him, Marsh was groaning. Mal dug her nails in.
“St-stop it! Not another step, I’m warning you!” She turned the gun on Marsh, and both of them froze. “Or else!”
Dipper blinked. “Mal!”
“Bluffing, obviously,” she hissed through her teeth. “Please, just trust me, Dipper. That’s all you need to do.”
“Wha- Uh, hello?!” Xiaofan waved her hands. “What more proof do you need? Do we look like the bad guys, here?!”
And they didn’t, they really didn’t. But what was the alternative? That all this time, all this time…
(“She set you up to this, didn’t she! She wants to cut me out of the fucking deal!”)
(“I haven’t really solved the case, have I?”)
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…
(“You're being really paranoid, Mal. Xiaofan wouldn't do that.”)
(“Did you call Gemma Friday?”)
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…
(“Marsh, meet my sister, Mallory.”)
(“See you soon, Gemma.”)
(“You knew about the book?”)
(“Why can’t we just talk anymore, Mal? Why can’t you just stop for once and actually talk to me like a real person!”)
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
“Hey.”
And in the midst of all of this, a gentle voice cut through the noise. Lucy Ann wore such a sad smile.
“Dipper,” she said. “Look at me, okay? Do you want to know the truth?”
He looked into her eyes, and his face started to crumple. “I-I don’t understand,” he said. “This is crazy, this is- she’s my sister!”
“I know, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
“I just- how do I-I know I can trust you? Everyone, everyone’s lied to me!” He held his pounding head. “I don’t know who to trust anymore.”
“They’re getting in your head, Dipper.” Mal’s grip tightened. “They’re trying to split us apart! Look at me, Dipper. Do you honestly believe I’m some kind of complete monster?”
Dipper couldn’t look at her; he shook his head.
“I don’t, I…”
“Hey, Dipper.” Lucy Ann cut in. “I get it, you’re sick of people lying to you. I did it too, and I’m sorry. No more, okay?”
And she started to draw something out of her pocket. Xiaofan glanced back, and her eyes widened as she recoiled-
“No more,” she repeated, with a summoning circle in her hands and a blade pressed to her palm. “It’s time for you to remember everything.”
“What are you- stop!”
“She’s gonna-!”
And before his eyes Lucy Ann sliced her palm, slapped it onto the paper, and…
…and?
The forest stood still, everyone frozen in horror, as Lucy Ann drew her palm back. She gazed down at the absolutely bloodless opening with a growing bewilderment.
“What the hell…?” She muttered. “Well, that’s not-”
Then, in one unnatural wave, dark blood rushed out of her cut, wrapped around her wrist, and pinned her to a tree. The paper fluttered out of reach; Xiaofan took half a step forward, and then jumped back.
“What the-?” Something red was climbing her cloak, strands hooking onto her arms and tying her down. “What the fuck?! Lucy Ann, what have you done!”
“This–agh–this isn’t me, this isn’t–Dipper!”
“What’s going on?!” Dipper struggled to get to his feet, but Mal kept him down. “Mal? What is this?”
Mal’s face was deathly pale. She opened her mouth… but another voice answered for her.
“Well, well, wasn’t that a close one!” It boomed from every direction, cold and loud and gleeful. Everyone but Mal flinched and tried to cover their ears. “Sagar, Sagar, long time no see! You are a tricksy one, aren’t you? Just as much a pain in my side as the day you broke up my cult in Cyrene.”
The blood around her wrist seemed to squeeze, and she let out a cry of pain. The voice just cackled.
“Not that I hold a grudge–noo, I would never! I’m not one for all this ‘ritual sacrifice’ business, anyway. I mean, really, why let a bunch of pathetic little humans have all the fun?” Then the ropes around Xiaofan pulled taut, and brought her to her knees. “Oh, but speaking of humans, my apologies! I’m letting Sagar have all the credit, aren’t I? Where are my manners?”
Xiaofan’s eyes were wide and shining with terror. She tried to speak, but blood ran into her mouth and she gagged and coughed.
“Xiaofan,” the voice crooned, stretching out the syllables. “You’re the one who hid this from me–well, more Gemma, but she’s not around to accept my congratulations, is she? What a shame,” it sneered. “I daresay I would’ve let your little plan play out if Sagar hadn’t forced my hand at the end there. And now, no one’s ever going to know what really happened to your friend. Or̆͘ t̜̤̲ô̗ ŷ̧̛͔͇̏͜o̕ŭ.”
“Mal! W-we gotta do something, Mal!” Dipper saw the blood starting to run towards him. “Mal, Mal!”
“Hmm…” The closer the blood got, the more Dipper’s head started to throb. It slowed as he held his head, and receded. “No, that doesn’t work, does it. Ah, well. It looks like you’ve already got this one, partner.”
Mallory’s hand on his shoulder… Dipper tried to brush it off, but it didn’t move. “Mal,” he said, looking up at her, begging her to meet his eyes. “Mal, what’s it talking about? You’ve got nothing to do with this, right? Right?”
“Nothing to do with this? Hah!” The voice barked a laugh. “Well, there’s no use for subterfuge now, is there? Little murderer, why don’t you introduce me to your brother? I’ve always wanted to meet your family!”
“I-” Mal’s voice was tight. “No. No. Don’t make me.”
“Mal?!”
“Aww, that’s not very polite of you, is it?” It tutted to itself. “It’s nice to meet you, heh, ‘Dipper’. You can call me Ianitor.”
“Ianitor?” Lucy Ann started thrashing to break free. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh-”
Another loop of blood caught her other hand. “You wound me, Sagar, it’s almost like you’re not pleased to see me! I may be the Lord of Murder, Demon of the Bloody Hands, the Muse and Refuge of the Damned, but I have feelings too, you know!”
Something was moving past them; Marsh, groaning and making furrows in the dirt with her fingernails, was dragged to lie between Lucy Ann and Xiaofan.
“Besides,” Ianitor’s voice oozed with malice. “I’m not the one who’s going to kill you three. She is.”
And all eyes, wide and horrified, turned to Mallory. She didn’t meet any of them; she curled into herself, clutching the gun to her chest.
“What are you doing?” She murmured. “This isn’t what I wanted. Th-this wasn’t the deal!”
Dipper grabbed her leg. “Mal? Mal, this is insane. This isn’t you!”
“Ohhh, ‘this isn’t you!’” Ianitor’s voice rang out loud and mocking. “I really am impressed–after everything he’s seen today, you’ve still got him wrapped around your little finger! You’re an excellent liar, and I’ll tell you a secret.” His voice lowered. “You can even lie to yourself. This isn’t what you wanted? Hah! This is what it was all leading up to, my friend, let’s not pretend you saw some magical happy ending where you quietly settled down in that funeral home. You’re a m̖ͬọ̈́ǹ͍ste̔͝r̽, but you’re not an idiot.”
Mal was breathing fast, her hands trembling as she turned the gun over in her hands.
“No, the only thing you’re upset about is that I let some people peek behind the curtain. Oops.” A cackle. “I guess I’m a liar, too, who’d’ve guessed? But hey, they don’t have to live to tell the tale, and I can make sure you never have to think about Dipper again.”
Dipper felt cold fear lance through his heart. Xiaofan was throwing herself madly against her restraints… to no avail.
“He hates you, Mallory. There’s no going back; everyone who sees you, h̫ate̡̊s̜̐͑ you. You’ve got to get better at hiding that, and you will. I’ll help you.”
Mallory’s trembling jaw set. She took a deep breath… then slowly raised the pistol, and pointed it at Xiaofan.
“No!” Dipper grabbed at her leg. “No, Mal, don’t! You can’t!”
“Oh, but you can. You already have, over and over and over again. You’re doomed. You ruin people, that’s who you are. That’s all you are.” His voice was so soft, so soothing. “Now, my friend, do what you do best.”
“No, no, no, no, no!”
But Dipper couldn’t stop her this time. Her finger hooked on the trigger, and the tremors stilled, and with this dead-eyed, hollow, haunted look, Mallory Quicksilver began to squeeze.
Then it came from all around. Like the ringing in Dipper’s ears, but deeper, a building roar that emanated from the forest, a thundering that shook the very ground they stood on. Mal blinked; she glanced to the side, just for a moment… and that was enough.
The trees began to shake, birds fled their roosts, and then just as they had before, a storm of deer burst from the thicket. They swept past Lucy Ann, Marsh and Xiaofan–Dipper couldn’t see them, but he could see a set of lowered antlers and sharp hooves coming right for them.
He didn’t have time to duck before they were on him–over him. Missing his nose by inches, the great stag rammed Mal and sent her flying.
ee͋e͚e̠eẹ̗eee͎e̙̣e…̺
And his head began to pound. With wide eyes he looked through the stampede and saw a different struggle; something blue and fiery and antlered, locked in combat with a blackness. And the blackness was winning–it snarled and thrashed and pressed down as the herd thinned-
“Alcor!”
But Dipper heard a name, and turned his head. Lucy Ann! She was sprinting through the stampede, coming for him, holding something high above her head–a paper?
“NO!” the blackness roared; Ianitor reached for her, but the antlered figure dragged him back, and
and she slapped Alcor’s circle
right on his chest.
“Wha-?” Dipper breathed. He looked at her as a terrible pain began to split his forehead. “What–agh!–what have you done? No! Stop it! STO̫͋P I͞T!̲”
“Sorry, man, this is gonna hurt,” Lucy Ann gave him a sad smile. “I’m here, okay? I’m here.”
And she pulled him into a hug as his world began to dissolve. Flashes–blood, candles. Terrible things, and at first he recoiled from them but they kept coming, blood kept dripping on his hands and suddenly these weren’t images, they were memories, they were memories and oh stars, who was he, what was he?
And then, and then… he knew.
He knew everything, and Dipper Quicksilver was no more.
Alcor. He woke up in her arms, blinking tears out of his eyes. Because he knew, he knew, oh stars, he knew. He looked up, his great wings unfurling, and he met Mallory’s horrified expression from across the clearing with one of his own.
Oh, no, Mizar. He looked at her, at the blood on her hands, the blackness in her soul. What have you done?
“Oh dear.” Ianitor’s voice was suddenly much more timid. “Well, Mallory, I’m off to enjoy my last few moments of existence. Good luck!”
And he blipped out of existence; Alcor wanted to follow him, wanted to grab him and t͕̾ea̸͂r̥̍ h̰̬͗i̷̇m̭̒ͭ l̎ͯ̚ȉm̃̇͡b͔̬͂ f͗roͬ͛m̛͔̎ l̡̫̍i̥ͥ̒mb͛͛ͥ… but he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. He couldn’t believe this, he just couldn’t believe what he saw in her.
“Dipper?” Mallory backed up; the gun was in her hand, and she threw it away. “Is that–is that really you?”
He didn’t know what to say. He just stared, stared as the deer formed a circle around her, braying and shaking their bloody antlers.
He just stared, as a figure materialised beside him. The Woodsman was smaller than he remembered, a ghostly boy with freckles on his cheeks, and a blade in his back, and hands, so many guilty hands hanging from his antlers.
The Woodsman, gripping his hatchet, started forwards, and Alcor just stared.
“What are you-?” Mal’s face blanched, and she backed up until she hit the circle of antlers. “No! No, no, no, I didn’t- I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Harry, please, d-don’t- DIPPER! Dipper, HELP!”
But he just stared, stared until the deer closed ranks around Mallory, and he could see no more.
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.
Dipper knew this was going to go well the second he locked eyes with Mal from the passenger seat. Leaning against the hearse, he could see her double take, then, with a kind of forced, furious casualness he’d learned to spot from a mile away, she rocked to her feet and stood there with her hands in her pockets as they parked.
“Hey!” Was the first thing he heard as he opened the door. “So this is weird, I’m thinking back on what I said yesterday, and I can’t seem to remember the part where I said we’re bringing Mom along!”
He cringed. “Mal-”
“No, no, come on!” Mal bared a smile. “I obviously messed up in the instructions somewhere, so let’s hear it. Was I supposed to use crayons?”
“Mallory!” Their mother jumped out of the car. “Don’t talk to your brother that way!”
“Tch. ‘Yes, Mom,’’” she rolled her eyes. “Why are you here? Did you seriously leave Dad at home alone?”
“Alone? He’s not a child, he wanted me to come.” Her gaze softened. “We’re worried about you two. Especially this… adventure, you said you were going to a friend’s house!”
“Yeah, and we decided to take a lovely forest walk together–exercise, oh, the horror!” She cupped her cheeks in mock terror. “We might even get some, gasp, fresh air out here! What was I thinking, we’d better get inside!”
“Don’t be ridiculous, Mallory-”
“I’m being-! You’re being ridiculous, stalking us up here like we need fucking babysitters, we’re adults! Adults!” She glowered at Dipper. “Well, I am, anyway. You trust me with your whole fucking funeral home but I don’t tell you exactly where I am for one second and you’re out here accusing me of-”
“I’m not accusi-”
“-always on my fucking case!”
“I’m sorry! I just-”
“No! No! You listen to me, Mom! You listen to me for once in your goddamn life!”
Dipper felt himself inching away from the two of them as they got into it. Oh, boy, he thought, this was going about as well as he’d expected. Good thing Marsh hadn't arrived yet; he might’ve just shriveled up on the spot from the awkwardness. Hah–well, hopefully they’ll have it out of their systems by the time she got here.
…
Wait.
“Mallory, please, can you just calm down for a second?”
“I’m calm! I’m soooo calm, you’re the one who-”
Dipper cut in. “Ha-hang on,” he stammered, gesturing at Marsh’s car. “Marsh is here already? Where is she?”
Something flickered in Mal’s eyes. “Uh…” she started, then cleared her throat. “Oh, she went on ahead. Got sick of waiting for you, I guess.”
“She-! and you didn’t go with her?!”
“I was waiting for you!”
“What? You could’ve texted me! What if she gets into trouble in there?”
“Oh my god, you’re just as bad as Mom. She’s fine.”
“You don’t know that!” Dipper gazed into the forest, at the shady path ahead that disappeared behind the beckoning trees. “We need to go after her.”
“Wh…” Behind them, their Mom frowned. “You seem really concerned about this, sweetie. What’s going on in the forest?”
“Nothing,” Mal rolled her eyes. “He’s just being paranoid. Wonder where he gets that from.”
Dipper made a face. “It’s… I-I don’t know, it could be nothing. But… we think there might be some clues in there about who-” He glanced at Mal, who arched an eyebrow. “Uh, about who killed Gemma.”
Their Mom just stared for a moment. Her eyes slowly lifted to the forest. “Just so I understand,” she said, quietly, carefully. “what you’re saying, sweetie, is there’s a chance she’ll encounter a murderer in that forest.”
“I don’t-” Dipper started, and then sighed. “Maybe. I don’t know, it’s hard to say.”
“Okay.” Slowly, she turned that iron stare onto Mal, and even she wilted under it. “So. You were also aware of this, I assume.”
“I-”
“And you let her do what?”
“Wh-, I-!” Mal stammered over her words. “Marsh wanted to go on ahead, that’s not my fault! What was I supposed to do?”
“You tell her no! I mean, for star’s stake, Mallory, show a little backbone! I never thought you'd be the one I'd need to say that too!”
“Yeah!” Dipper said, then blinked. “Wait, what?”
“It's not my-”
“Don't. Please, don't try that with me right now.” Their Mom rubbed her forehead. “Mallory, I love you so much, but I have to say, I am getting sick and tired of hearing that from you lately! Nothing's your fault, nothing’s ever your fault!”
“I never said that! Tell me when I ever said ‘nothing's ever my fault’, that's ridiculous!”
“You-!” She stopped, pursed her lips. “Okay. Okay, Mallory.”
Then she turned back to her car. Mal, fists clenched, face flushed, followed her.
“Okay what? Are you gonna apologise?”
“Yes, I'm sorry. Now can we put this behind us for now?” Their Mom opened the trunk. “We've got to get that poor girl out of the forest. Here, take this.”
Then she tossed something Mal’s way. Dipper came closer, and she handed one to him as well… some sort of bracelet? He wasn’t sure what to make of it; the chain was fine and silvery, but the pendant was a spud of little white flowers wound together with twine in a tight pattern. It was oddly clashing, and it’d have looked amateurish if it wasn’t so well constructed.
Dipper glanced towards Mal, and he could see the question in her eyes. “Is this a charm?” She said, and Dipper could see their Mom hesitate. “Did you make this?”
“It’s just a bit of wild garlic and silver.” She said, vaguely. “I heard it was a vampire on the news–anyway, are we ready?”
Mal opened her mouth… then seemed to think better of it. “Yeah, uh, actually, before we go, I-I got something as well.” Digging in her pocket, she drew out a blue glass charm with a loop of red ribbon, paused, and thrust it out to Dipper. “Here.”
His eyes went wide. “Is that–wait, is that my magic blocker necklace? You finally made another one?”
“What do you mean, finally?”
“Uh-” A quick glance up at Mal. “I mean, oh my god, thank you so much, you’re the best! This is amazing, I’ve been so sick of these headaches!”
With a big grin on his face, he snatched it up and looped it around his neck. Before he’d even tied the knot, he felt his headache start to spike.
eeeeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE–pop!
Dipper blinked, shook his head as the pain faded. When he looked down… the glass charm had shattered into glittering pieces on his shirt.
He didn’t even have time to be disappointed.
“Oh, for fuck’s-!” Mal threw up her hands. “Great. Great! You broke it, genius! Why not? Everything’s going so well today, huh!”
“I didn’t do anything! I-I just put it on.”
Their Mom frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie, that’s really disappointing.”
“Disappointing to him?! What about me? I worked on that stupid thing for-” She cut herself off. “Ugh, whatever. It doesn’t matter.”
“Mal?”
“I said, whatever! Are we going into the forest or not?”
“Hmph.” Their Mom took a second to nod. “You’re right. Come on; let’s stick together, you two.”
And she began to lead them into the forest, glancing back every few steps. Dipper didn’t think Mal would follow at first, but she kept pace with him, her arms crossed, her head firmly turned away. His hand brushed the red ribbon, and he sighed.
“Hey,” he started. “Thanks for… I really appreciate you tried to make another one. I know it’s not easy.”
She didn’t respond. He paused, and tried again.
“It, uh… it took you a few tries on the last one, right? I’m sure you’ll get it!”
He tried to reach out a hand, but she sped up to avoid him. Dipper sighed… then, looking at the trees closing in, tried to put it out of mind. That wasn’t important right now; he had to keep an eye out for Marsh. She was probably just at the cabin, but… well, you never know.
Mal, though, hadn’t got the message. She fell into step with their Mom, and shot her a Look. For a little while their Mom politely ignored the daggers being thrown her way… but then she let out a groan.
“Okay, Mallory, what’s wrong now?”
“Oh, nothing,” and as soon as their Mom met her gaze she was aloof, staring off into the trees. “Just, uh… just wondering–just thinking, you know? Just thinking about what I heard earlier, ah, something about a book?”
“A book?”
“Yeah! You and Dipper were on about some kind of book.” Their Mom didn’t react, but Mal caught Dipper’s flinch. “Yeah, look, he’s heard about it! What’s going on, huh?”
She took a moment to reply, “Mallory,” she started carefully, glancing around the forest. “I can tell you later, but I really don’t think this is the time. We have to find your friend; aren’t you worried about her?”
“Oh my gooood, she’s fine! You think we’re actually stupid enough to walk into a forest with a murderer?” Mal glanced back at Dipper with a strange smirk. “Actually, scratch that. But hey, you’re obviously not that worried if you’re letting us tail along.”
“Of course I’m-!” Dipper saw her hands clench, then struggle to straighten out. “I’m very worried right now, Mallory, and I’m trying to concentrate! I don’t want you kids playing detective with an actual murderer! I just also know that if I told you to stay in the parking lot, you’d go right in after me. I’ve been your mother for almost twenty years now, Mallory, I know how this works.”
“Wh- why are you singling me out?!”
Dipper rubbed his forehead. “Guys, guys, can we please not fight the whole way to the cabin? Look, Mal’s right, we both planned it; it’s not fair to put it on her.”
“Thank you, Dipper.” Mal raised her eyebrows at her Mom. “See, he agrees with me!”
“Well-”
“I’m not the one starting anything, I’m just asking questions. Like, what about this book, huh?” She looked back at Dipper. “How about you, bro? Are you gonna tell me anything?”
“I… uh…”
“Mallory!” Their Mom snapped. “I promise you, I will tell you later! I don’t-” Her voice seemed to lower by instinct. “I don’t want to talk about it in public.”
But that was a mistake; Dipper could see how Mal immediately switched from grumpy pot-stirring to genuine interest. “In public, what?” She gave a little chuckle that faded out as their Mom didn’t meet her eyes. “Wait, what’s… is something going on? Is Dad okay?”
“Wh- no, it’s nothing to do with… your father’s fine.”
“Then, I-I don’t understand what you’re talking about. You’re actually keeping something from me?”
You could cut the tension with a knife; Dipper glanced between the two of them, then all around the looming forest. He made a face.
“Well,” he mumbled. “Seems like this is your private moment.”
Their Mom slowed to a stop. Mal didn’t even make a snarky comment as she seemed to collect her thoughts, take a deep breath, and let it out in a sigh.
“I wanted this to be a little more planned out,” she said. “Your father and I–this doesn’t change anything, okay? We both love you so much, and we only want the best for-”
“You’re getting divorced?!”
“Wh- no, Mallory! Of course not!”
“Okay, okay, jeez!” She scowled at Dipper’s muffled snort. “Hey, I’m not the crazy one here, what the hell was I supposed to take from ‘your father and I still love you?’ Fuuck, Mom, don’t scare me like that!”
“Oh, my stars.” Their Mom pinched her forehead. “This went so much better in the car… Look, Mallory, we used to… a long time ago, we were in… you have to understand-”
“And now you’re sounding like you used to be in a cult or something.” She rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Mom, you gotta work on your messaging.”
It took a moment. Mallory looked from her mother’s stricken face to Dipper’s nervous smile, and the penny finally dropped.
“No way,” she breathed, and watched her Mom give a timid nod. “Wh- no way, no–you’re joking. You’re joking!”
“No. We used to… we used to be in the Circle. But it was a long-”
“The Circle?!” She backed up, stumbling over a twig. “Wh- Alcor? No way, no way, no way!”
“Mallory-”
“I don’t- you can’t- I would’ve known this, I would’ve known this!” Then she froze, her eyes going wide. “The book. That’s why you had a-”
Then she cut herself off–but it was too late. She glanced up at her mother’s shocked face, and tried for a shaky smile.
“I-I mean,” and the blood was draining from her face; her hands were wringing together. “I-I just meant-”
“You knew about the book?” Their mom glanced at Dipper. “Did you tell her?”
“No! I didn’t, I had no idea until last night.” He blinked at Mallory. “How long have you known?”
Mallory was backed up against a tree; she could only shrug. “I- I don’t–why are you guys acting like I knew? I’m just, I’m just finding out now! You had a what?”
“Mallory, come on.”
“I’m serious, guys! I had no idea, I…” One look at their faces, and she grimaced, put up her hands, and changed tack. “Okay, fine! I-I did see it once. It was back when I was a stupid teenager, I dug through your guys’ stuff one day, and, yeah. But I didn’t think anything of it.”
“You didn’t think anything of it?” Dipper raised an eyebrow. “You found an illegal demonology book, and you were just like… okay? No follow up questions?”
“Well-”
“It hadn’t been moved at all,” their Mom breathed. “You put it back exactly where we left it.”
“Yeah, that’s- you know what I was like as a teenager, I liked getting away with stuff.” Her smile strained. “I-I knew it was a big deal, that’s why I put it back where I found it! Then I… I just kind of forgot about it, I guess.”
“Forgot about it?”
“Yeah, I-I… look, it doesn’t matter right now!” She sidled away from the tree and started down the path again. “We gotta find Marsh, guys! Isn’t that what we came here for?”
Dipper blinked; he exchanged a wide-eyed look with his Mom, then rushed to catch up. “Hey, Mal, wait, you wanted to talk about this!”
“Yeah, well, we’re nearly at the cabin, so-”
“Why didn’t you tell me about the-”
“I don’t know, Dipper, I don’t know!” She rounded on him. “Maybe I’m better at leaving shit alone. Maybe I’m stupid and I couldn’t put two and two together; I mean you just needed one night to realise Mom and Dad are secret demon summoners, it’s sooo obvious! I’m sorry I’m not as smart as you!”
“I didn’t say you were…” Dipper hesitated, took a deep breath, and pressed on. “Why do you always act like I-I’m calling you stupid? I didn’t say that, Mal, I’ve never said that! I’m trying to see if you’re okay!”
“Ohhh, Mr Thoughtful.”
“I mean, it was really shocking to me, too, can’t we talk about it?” He slowed as she kept walking. “Why can’t we just talk anymore, Mal? Why can’t you just stop for once and actually talk to me like a real person!”
And Mal stopped, dead. Dipper could feel his heart beating in his throat as she stood there, his words echoing too loud, too real. He didn’t know when it’d started, but talking to her… somewhere along the way it’d become like walking in a minefield, nodding along and smiling and pretending he wasn’t always, always looking out for the next bomb to trip up on.
That wasn’t the way he wanted it to be. He used to love talking to her, he used to love… He didn’t know if they could go back to how things were before.
He wanted to, he wanted to so bad, but she was turning around now, and he was terrified he was about to get that answer.
Dipper looked at his sister. She tried to look back, tried to stare him down defiantly, but it was her gaze, for once, that slid to his shoes.
The forest was silent as she took a breath.
“Dipper-”
But she couldn’t finish. A flinch, and she turned her head to the side.
Seconds later, far off the path and deep in the trees, Dipper heard a scream.
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.
Mal was checking her watch when a car finally pulled up to the parking lot by the forest. She took one look at it and narrowed her eyes; how the hell did she beat Dipper here? He was supposed to be right behind her!
Agh. Cool it, Mal, cool it. She stretched out a smile as the engine juddered off and Marsh stepped out of the car.
“Hey, Khady!” Mal gave a big wave. “The K-ster, how’s it going? You look a bit tired!”
Marsh was rubbing her eyes. “Yeah, I was working past two last night, so this better be worth it.”
“Oh, it for sure is. Just wait for Dipper to explain, he found a crazy clue about the cabin!” She raised her eyebrows. “He’s–he should be right behind me, but we’ll see.”
“Hmph.” Marsh glanced towards the road, then back at Mal. Something in her eyes seemed to soften. “How’re you doing, how’re you holding up?”
“Me?”
“Yeah! After… well, let me know if you want to talk about it.”
Oh–Gemma, right. Mal suddenly felt the smile stretching her cheeks was a bit too strong an opener; she did her best to soften it.
“I, uh–thanks, that’s, that’s very nice of you.” She looked away, tried on a sigh. “I’m just… trying to keep upbeat, you know?”
“For sure.”
“But you know, I’m devastated, of course! I mean, it’s, she was my best friend!”
“Of course you are. I’m so sorry… you know, anyway you feel, that’s the right way to feel, you know?” Marsh shifted uncomfortably; her words started to come out a little halting. “I, uh… you know, when my… when my Mom died, I… I went to work that day. People think that was cold of me, I-I should’ve been home crying or some shit… I just wanted to be around people, you know? I wanted the routine, not just…” Her eyes got distant, then refocused. “So, yeah, no, I didn’t mean to seem like I was judging or anything. Sorry. I’m not very… I’m not great at this stuff.”
Mal stared at her. The first thought that hit her mind: well, that’s lucky.
“Oh jeez,” said her mouth. “I’m sorry to hear about that, I didn’t know.”
“I mean, why would you, I didn’t tell you.” Marsh shrugged. “It happened a while ago now, it’s, it’s not about me.”
“Well, thanks for telling me, then. I appreciate it–uh, but anyway!” She clapped her hands. “I guess Dipper’s taking the scenic route or something, so I might as well show you now.”
Mal picked up something on the hood of the hearse, and Marsh leaned over. “Show me what? Is that one of your glass things?”
“Glass charms, yeah!” Holding it up, Mal let it catch the light and glimmer. “I just thought, you know, it might be a little dangerous in the forest, so I could make something to help!”
“Okaay?”
“This little guy’s a pretty beefy Sight charm–put it on, and you should be able to see if a gnome so much as sniffles in your line of sight!” At Marsh’s arched eyebrow, she added: “You know how that Collins guy hid in your house, right? If you’d had this thing on, you’d’ve spotted him in a heartbeat.”
That got her attention; Mal held it out, and she took it, turned it over, inspected it. “How do you know it works?”
“I test ‘em, obviously. I made one of those invisibility doodads myself; it completely negated the effect.” Mal gave a winning smile. “Trust me, Khades, nothing’s gonna sneak up on you with this thing.”
“Hm.” She paused for a moment… and then began looping the red ribbon around her wrist. “Thanks, Mal. This could actually be really- whoa!”
She pointed to something in the treeline; Mal turned, and saw nothing. “What is it?”
“Some kind of… big butterfly, like a spirit, or something!” Marsh looked around her with an air of open wonder. Her pupils seemed just the tiniest bit greyed, Mal noticed. “And the sky looks a little different too… Wow. I can see why people are jealous of the Sight, now. That’s amazing.”
Mal tried to hold back a little smirk–sheesh Ianitor, she thought, dial back the special effects, will you?
A chuckle answered her thoughts. “Aww, little murderer, let me have some fun! Your friend’s certainly not complaining… not y̵e̵t̷̬͝.”
Mal glanced to the side. He’s not to hurt her, or Dipper, remember? They’re just gonna walk in the forest, hallucinate up some evidence, and spend the rest of the investigation chasing their own shadows until they gave up on the whole thing.
“Yes, yes, I remember our deal.” Ianitor patted her shoulder. “Quite a masterstroke of a plan–I wish I’d come up with something so diabolical! Shall I get started on this one while you wait for your brother?”
That didn’t sound like a good idea… but suddenly Marsh turned her head. “Oh, there you are!” She said to thin air. “You snuck up on me, Dipper. Alright, are we ready to go?”
“Hang on,” Mal started, but Marsh looked straight at her with those grey eyes, nodded, and turned to walk into the forest.
“Alright,” Marsh was saying. “Let’s stay together now, guys…”
“Hey!” Mal stepped forwards, but a hand caught her shoulder. “What the hell, this isn’t the plan! We’re supposed to go in together!”
“Really? Well, you should’ve mentioned that in the deal,” said Ianitor. “Ah, but don’t worry about her, she’ll be just fine! You know what you should worry about?”
“What?”
“The book.”
Mal blinked. “Wh… what book?”
“I don’t know. I just overheard Dipper and your mother talking about it–it sounded important, I wonder why they’re keeping it from you?” Ianitor spoke like he was holding back a laugh. “You should ask him about it when he gets here.”
“I…”
“Come, relax, sit down,” the demon said, as Marsh disappeared into the trees behind her. “It won’t be too much longer, now.”
Dipper didn’t know when to start the conversation. It seemed a little awkward to launch into it while she was turning out of the driveway, but now they were stopped at an intersection and he wondered whether this was more of a highway conversation.
Glancing out the window, he noticed a truck next to them, two guys sitting and chatting in front. Odds are they weren’t having to talk about demon summoning, he thought. Lucky.
“So,” thankfully, his Mom broached the topic first. “About the, uh, the book. Is it in…?”
“It’s in my room.”
“Oh, good. Good. Phew, haha.” She flashed him a nervous smile before the lights went green. “Wouldn’t be good to lose that!”
“Uh, no,” He raised an eyebrow. “Where did you even get something like that?”
“We’ve always had it, actually. It’s been passed down the family for generations; the original builder of the funeral home bought it, or at least that’s how the story goes.”
Dipper crossed his arms. “Oh, so it’s a super illegal heirloom, that’s sooo much better.”
“Dipper-”
“I’m sorry, I’m just-! I’m still trying to process this. I never once heard you guys talk about demons, but now this is like a whole family thing? I don’t-” A horrible thought hit him. “Wait. That gas leak in the crematory before I was born, that wasn’t-”
“That wasn’t Alcor.” His Mom’s voice turned hard. “It’s not related, I don’t want to talk about that.”
“Mom-”
“It was a horrible accident.” Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. “Horrible day, I-I don’t- Bad things happen to good people, they just do, it-it doesn’t matter what y-you do or who you worship!” A blink. “I mean-”
“Worship?”
“I didn’t- I just mean, it’s true, i-isn’t it? Bad things can happen to everyone, I was just-”
“Oh, my god,” Dipper gazed at his Mom like a whole new person. “You guys don’t just summon demons, do you?”
His Mom didn’t reply straight away, but the corner of her mouth twitched a bit. “You don’t generally worship demons,” she said, eventually. “It’s a much better idea to pick one.”
“Oh my god.”
“Outside of California, the Circle is actually a very reputable-”
“Oh my god, the Circle? The, the ‘Dreamer’s Star’ nuts?” Dipper ran his hands through his hair. “You know why that is, right? Like, maybe they wouldn’t be illegal if they didn’t follow the guy who literally blew up California, right?”
“Dipper-”
“Like a hundred-something million people, I don’t remember the- there was a whole, like, Los Angeles, we heard about it over and over again in school.”
“Yes, that is how it’s taught.” His Mom’s lip twisted down. “And I wonder if they mentioned that there was actually another demon-”
“Are you defending him right now?!”
“I’m just-, I know it’s going to sound…! Well, it was in His wisdom that you two didn’t grow up in the Circle, so I just have to trust that He doesn’t need my defense.”
It was so, so weird to hear his Mom talk like that; eugh, he could hear the capitals. As they turned onto the highway, he sank into his seat. “So what, we weren’t supposed to hear about this? Why?”
She opened her mouth, closed it, and made a face. “I… it’s a long story, sweetie.”
“We’ve got time.”
“Yes, well… it’s not a pleasant memory.” A hard swallow. “It happened when you were both born. We… I-it took a long time for us to have children, a-and when we… you were both born very early, very early.” She stretched out trembling fingers. “Twenty-three weeks, she was the size of my hand.”
Dipper didn’t say anything, but the pit in his stomach was growing.
“A-anyway, it wasn’t… she was going to…” Her jaw tightened, her eyes locked forwards. “We needed a miracle… and it came, He answered us!”
“You made a deal.”
“Yes, and look at you, look at Mallory!” Her smile was warm and watery. “You’re okay. I forget, it’s… it’s one of my favourite stories, actually. I’m so glad I was finally able to tell it to you.”
“But,” he shook his head. “What did you make a deal for?”
“Well… I don’t remember.”
“How do you not-”
“That was one of the stipulations,” she said. “And we couldn’t raise you two in the Circle, either. He was very firm on that, and so we didn’t; we stopped going to gatherings, we got rid of our robes, our books. That one you saw was the only one we kept, I… couldn’t bear to part with that one.” She gave a wistful sort of smile. “It’s been in our family so long. I-I thought, if you’d ever found your way to the Circle on your own, I’d have something to give you. But only if you did it on your own, I never would’ve broken my promise.”
“Hmph.” Dipper shifted in his seat. “Good job on that.”
“Yes, yes, I’m not, ah, thrilled with your father about last night.” Her eyebrows raised. “Almost twenty years, and he just has it all out in the middle of the… what’s done is done, he just wanted to help.” And she cast him a side glance. “I’m guessing I can’t convince you to keep this from Mallory, can I.”
“Are you kidding? I think she would literally kill me.”
“Hah, I, uh… that’s my problem, I guess.” A pause. “Look, sweetie, I’m sorry, I know this is probably a big shock, to say the least. But we haven’t… nothing has to change, okay? Your father and I aren’t different people than we were yesterday, we still love you and we only want the best for you. We left that life behind a long time ago for you and Mallory, and we’d do it again every time. Every time.”
Those words warmed him a little, but he couldn’t help but ask: “Well, you didn’t give it up completely, did you?”
“Hmph, no. Just like you two haven’t completely given up on running around trying to find a dangerous murderer.” She pursed her lips. “I’m quite interested, for instance, that this ‘Marsh’s house’ appears to be a parking lot next to a forest.”
“Mom-”
“We’re worried about you two, okay! You just don’t talk to us!”
“So you summoned a demon about it?”
“So we were potentially planning to see if we could contact him again,” she spoke very carefully. “Just something small! Just to keep you two from getting hurt, you wouldn’t even have seen Him!”
“Oh, great, yeah, wonderful.” He shook his head. “God, why Alcor, again? Like of all demons, that guy?”
She snorted. “‘Of all demons?’ Do you have a better one in mind?”
“Well, no, just… he’s literally the California guy.” Dipper crossed his arms. “Didn’t our whole funeral home start as a staging ground for all the casualties from that? I don’t get why this is some big family tradition.”
He expected his Mom to have something to say to that… but she was silent. When he looked over, he saw she was looking at her back mirror with a strange expression; seemingly blank, but there was something turning over in her mind.
“Mom?” And instead of looking over, she just kept staring, oddly rigid. “Us, I was saying-”
“I know, I heard- I’d love to tell you the story, but…” she motioned with her head a little. “Don’t look back, but that white car’s been behind us since we got on the highway.”
It took Dipper a couple seconds to process the implications. He immediately glanced back and saw a little sedan with tinted windows. “That one? What’s-”
“I just said don’t look back!”
“Sorry,” he sank into his seat, heart beating. “Maybe they’re just going the same way we’re going?”
“Hmph. They’d have passed us by now; I’ve been driving like an old lady trying to explain this to you.” There was an eerie calmness to the way she flicked her blinkers. “This’ll prove it.”
They were moving onto the exit lane; Dipper couldn’t help but glance in the mirrors and see the white car do the same. “Wh- they are following us!”
“Not very well. Don’t worry, sweetie, I’ll get rid of them.”
“Get- what? How?”
But she didn’t respond, so he was only left to hold on. The exit lane was starting to diverge; Dipper saw the white car follow them as they began curving away–but then! With a jerk of the wheel, her Mom cut across the growing shoulder. A chorus of beeps came from behind, but Dipper’s eyes were only on the white car; he saw it actually swerve for a moment like it wanted to follow… but then it seemed to reconsider, and it stayed the path, sweeping away from them.
Before a line of trees cut them off, Dipper thought he saw something in the window. But it was gone so quick, and then he was left to reckon with what on earth his Mom had just pulled off.
“Oh, dear,” she said so mildly; her shoulders had gone up again, and she gave a timid wave to the car flipping her off in the passing lane. “Sorry, sorry! I really don’t like doing that.”
“Um. Okay, so can we talk about that?” He blinked at her. “You just lost that car like it’s nothing!”
She couldn’t hold back a little smirk. “Dipper, sweetie. In your words, I’m in an 'illegal cult'. That’s not the first time someone’s tailed me to a gathering.” She glanced out of the window. “I’m not sure who that was, though. The police are a little more subtle–back in the day, anyway.”
Dipper wasn’t quite ready to move on. “Oh. Cool. Cool cool cool, this is- you guys got mad at Mal for shoplifting!”
“Of course we did, we’re her parents.” She flicked on the blinker again. “Oh, here’s our exit! Well, now I’ve bared my soul to you, I can’t wait to see what trouble you kids have been getting up to.”
A thought hit him. “Oh, no,” he groaned, and slumped in his seat. “Mal’s gonna kill me for bringing you along.”
“Well, the way it’s looking, she’s going to kill both of us.” His Mom shot him a meaningful smile. “I know I can’t ask you to keep this under wraps forever. But maybe this can wait until a better moment?”
“A better moment?”
“Hm.” She took a moment to think over her words. “Well, a more private moment. Can you do that for me?”
They turned a corner, and Dipper saw the parking lot come into view–the hearse loomed, and he couldn’t help but gulp.
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.
Dipper didn’t sleep well that night. For the moments where it didn’t feel like his brain was pressing on the back of his eyes, he couldn’t help but think of that lonely cabin in the woods. There’d been no joy to solving Gemma’s puzzle; the word revealed itself to him like an ever-deepening pit in his stomach.
Because they’d have to go back there, wouldn’t they?
To the place where he got attacked by a demon, the place where his necklace shattered and left him struggling to drive to the store. To the place that ended his happy little year in college; the closer he got to going back, the more he fretted what had been said about him back on campus, how warm a welcome he was really going to get.
To the place that began with Gemma betraying him, and ended with Lucy Ann… betraying him? Revealing herself? Telling him that everything he knew about her, everything they’d done together was nothing but a sadistic prank played by some vampire with too much time on her hands. It was true, wasn’t it? Yeah! Yeah, then she left, got annoyed when Gemma wouldn’t drop it, and came back to make her shut up about the whole thing!
(Of course we’re friends.”)
That was the only way it made sense to him.
(“I’ll see you around.”)
It was the only thing that fit the evidence. Lucy Ann killed Gemma, and… and tomorrow, they were going to see what all these codes had been pointing towards.
A scowl. Tomorrow, he thought, and tried to close his eyes; in no time at all, they were staring up at the ceiling again. And his pillow was too warm, and he was sweating under his covers but cold when he pushed them off–agh, fine! Fine, he was up!
Maybe he’d get a water or something.
Casting a glare at the stars outside his window, he felt his way to the door, creaked down the hallway, and started downstairs.
He didn’t get far before he paused. A sound downstairs: some kind of rustling? At first he thought it was coming from the funeral home… but no, definitely from the living room.
As it kept going, his grip tightened on the railing. It could be Mal, and man, was it mean that every fibre of his being suddenly wanted to go back to bed? Come on, Dipper, don’t be like that. She’s having a hard time, she needs you.
She needs you.
…
But his feet just didn’t move. The harder he tried, the more frozen he felt. The more he could feel his heart pounding in his chest, faster and harder until with a sigh, he gave up on it. Fine, he thought, taking a step back up. He’d just-
The person downstairs cleared their throat, and that was not Mal. Dipper blinked; curious now, it was suddenly all too easy to rush downstairs, throw open the door, and find-
“Oh!” Dipper gave an apologetic smile. “Sorry, Dad! Didn’t mean to surprise you, I was just like, who’s downstairs right now? But it’s just you, haha.”
And he did feel bad; his Dad, kitted out in his nightgown and sleeping cap on the sofa, had jolted half-up and dropped a book with a thump on the carpet.
“Uh, sorry. Again.” He saw his Dad struggling to reach down, and moved forwards. “I can-”
“Don’t!” He held an arm out. “Dondundundun- I- don’t, don’t! Don’t!”
“Oh, uh, okay? You sure you don’t want-”
“Don’t! Don’t, I- don’t! Don’t!”
He was more animated than Dipper had seen in a while, waving him off with big jerky swings of his arms. Dipper certainly got the message.
“Whoa, no worries, Dad, it’s fine!” He pointed to the kitchen. “I’m just, uh, going to get some water. Do you want some?”
He shook his head and kept reaching for the book. Dipper lingered for a moment longer, guilt needling as he watched his Dad struggle to lift it, then crossed into the kitchen. The oven read 4am in glowing red letters; it was off by a couple hours–he forgot how many–but it was definitely very late.
“I didn’t think you’d be up!” He called into the living room as he got a glass down. “I, uh, I couldn’t sleep, hah. Is that the same for you?”
He got a grunt in reply. Filling up his glass, Dipper wondered whether to ask again; his Mom and Mal, it felt like they could ‘read’ him so much better than Dipper–another pang, because of course they could, they’d been the ones actually looking after him, while he’d been off… well, these days it wasn’t even clear what he’d been doing. Not making friends, that’s for sure.
“Uh, yeah, great,” he continued. “That’s… yeah. Great. Did you want-? Oh, right, you’d said no.”
Water in hand, Dipper made his way back to the living room. His Dad was scraping papers into a binder; must be some funeral home stuff he was trying to work on.
“You don’t have to stop.” He pointed upstairs. “I was gonna go back to my room, or… I could help if you needed? What do you-”
“Done! All done, all done.” His Dad stood up abruptly, the binder clasped to his chest. He limped his way past Dipper with a, “All done, all, all done, and all done. All done, all…”
And then he was gone; Dipper could hear the handle going for a bit before the door creaked open and slammed shut.
“Alright,” he muttered to himself. “Nice to see you, too, Dad. Good… good talk.”
Man, he should make more of an effort. Months, and it was still… he wasn’t used to this version of his Dad. It used to be, you couldn’t be in the same room as Ronald Quicksilver without hearing his opinion on anything and everything that came up; sometimes he did his homework in the living room so his Dad would walk over and backseat-drive him into all the right answers. But not when he was learning to drive–no, the backseating got a lot more literal and a lot less wanted there.
The memory made him chuckle, but it quickly tapered into a sigh. He seemed happy enough with Mom and Mal, but Dipper could see it every time a customer looked him over… no, be honest. He got that look, too, that moment when he just didn’t get what his Dad was saying, and his Dad… his Dad stopped trying. And once he got his necklace fixed, he was just gonna go right back to college, right back to talking with his Mom on the phone and hearing how Dad’s doing, what Dad’s doing.
Was that how it was gonna be now? No. No, he wanted to talk to his Dad again!
Standing there with a glass of water warming in his hand, Dipper resolved that he was gonna do better on this… as soon as he’d gotten to the bottom of who killed Gemma, and how to make Mal feel better. Oh, and what was going on with Lucy Ann, and also getting his medication sorted and getting back on track with his classes, and–look, it was a priority! It was just that a lot of things were priorities right now.
A yawn was building in his throat–speaking of priorities.
As he turned to leave, though, something caught his eye. At first he thought it was something shiny under the couch, but when he glanced back, he realised it was more of a glow, something–and his stomach twisted–not quite of this reality. It was like the shapes he saw when he pulled up at Gemma’s house, when he saw through the walls to find-
eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…
With a shudder, Dipper pulled his thoughts back. Setting his water down on the counter, he kneeled down, hesitated, and then stuck a hand into the darkness. It didn’t take him long to feel something hard and square and leathery–a book? Was this the one his Dad had dropped, and… not picked up, but shoved under the couch for some reason? Why’d he do that?
Frowning, he drew it out. It was a heavy thing, definitely closer to a textbook than anything else, and it shed pages and post-its as he lifted it into his lap. Its spine was broken at a page near the middle; he turned to it and saw-
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
Dipper had to physically cover his eyes, because oh my god that was Alcor’s summoning circle oh my god what kind of book is this? Only once his head had stopped buzzing and his knees had managed to slam the book closed did he dare to look again; his shaking hands traced the edges of uneven, yellowed pages, and then flipped the whole thing back to the cover. The title was dulled with age and hard to read, but he caught a bit of moonlight, and there he saw, as damning as a bloody dagger:
AN INTRODUCTION TO DEMONOLOGY
Dipper’s heart jumped into his throat. His first instinct was to shove this thing right off his lap–what on earth was a demonology textbook doing in his house? This was… the level of illegal this thing was, his head was spinning to think of it. Mom and Dad weren’t demonologists, and neither was Mal, so-
…So why was his Dad reading it? At first Dipper had the desperate thought that he’d dropped some other, unrelated book, and this amazingly illegal little bombshell had just been left here by somebody else, some other time. But if the lack of dust didn’t kill that theory dead, the notes finished it off; his head swam as he gathered them up and read his Dad’s shaky handwriting: FOREST SPOT? RCH OUT OLD CNCTS SEE WHT WKS NOW, Y NO ANSR
Dipper didn’t realise how hard he was breathing until his head started to spin; with shaking hands, he just shoved all the notes inside until he couldn’t see them anymore. What the hell was going on? What was he supposed to do about this? Did Mom know? What was he gonna-
Creak.
Just the slightest sound made him freeze, stock still, hardly daring to breathe. Sitting out in the open, with this book on his lap… when the noise didn’t repeat, he raced to stuff the thing into his shirt and jump to his feet. He peeked into the stairway, and when his Dad was nowhere to be seen, he dashed upstairs as fast as he dared, back down the hall, back to his room.
“Come on, Mallory! Let’s have a nice family breakfast!”
“No, we’ve got, Dipper and I have somewhere to be, don’t we, Dipper? Dipper?”
For once, Mal’s gaze wasn’t the most piercing thing in the room. Dipper didn’t even register her voice until he got a shove on the shoulder.
“Huh? What?”
“We’re going to Marsh’s, remember?” She spoke through gritted teeth, then spun around at the sound of crackling bacon. “Wha- Mom! I just told you-”
“Don’t be like that, sweetie! If you’ve got a big day ahead, you need a big breakfast!”
“Wh-!”
“Help me set the table, won’t you, Mallory?”
“I-”
“Please just set the table.”
And maybe it was opposites day, or maybe Mallory could sense the same strangeness in the air that Dipper did, because he heard a great huff… and then the opening and slamming closed of cabinets. Forks and knives and spoons and plates started appearing in front of him, and in front of the figure sitting at the end of the table.
Ronald Quicksilver was sitting still and straight, his good hand tapping on the table, his eyes trained unmoving and unblinking on Dipper. Dipper couldn’t see what expression he had on, because he didn’t dare to look; he just sat with his phone out, the screen black, staring at his reflection and waiting for the moment he could run out the door and never look back.
Stars, it was such a stupid move to take that textbook. Of course his Dad would come back for it, of course! And now what? Were they gonna talk about it? ‘Hey, Dad, couldn’t help but notice you’re trying to summon a demon, is that a new hobby?’
Just the thought made him cringe into his seat. Last night he’d been wanting to talk to his Dad more–he must’ve been touching a monkey’s paw. What a mess. What an absolute-
“Breakfast,” Mal dropped a plate of bacon and eggs in front of him, then lowered her voice. “Let’s eat fast, yeah? We’re wasting daylight.”
Then she served their Dad, set her plate down, and started inhaling her toast with the speed (and table manners) of a teenager in a growth spurt. Their Mom gave her an odd look as she sat down.
“You two are certainly in a hurry today.” A pause; she and their Dad exchanged a glance, and then she smiled over at Dipper. “What’s, what’s the rush, sweetie? What are we up to?”
And now both their eyes were on him. “Um-” he started, but Mal cut in.
“Going to Marsh’s, she’s a great friend, yadda yadda, let’s go.”
Then she stood up, and swift-walked her plate to the sink before her Mom could stop her.
“Wh- Mal, honey, you can’t be done-”
“Can and am.”
“You don’t want to have breakfast with us?” Her eyes softened. “It’s been a while since we’ve all sat down together. I feel like I’ve barely seen you since Gemma-”
“Cool cool cool–Dipper, buddy, how long does it take to eat an egg? Are you waiting for those things to hatch?”
“Hatch? They’re fried.”
“Hatch, gestate- whatever, stupid joke, it doesn’t-” She jerked her head to the side. “Shut-! Nevermind. Look, I’ll be outside!”
Dipper had a horrible realisation that he was about to be left alone with his parents. “W-wait,” he jumped up, shoving bacon into his mouth. “Wai’ f’r ‘e!”
And he dashed out of the door after her. Their Mom was quick to follow.
“Hey, what’s the big rush? What’s gotten into you two?”
Dipper slowed down; Mal forged ahead. “Just… friends! Going to see that same friend we did a week ago, uh, Marsh.” He tried for a grin. “We’ll be back soon.”
“It can’t wait for after breakfast? I was hoping we could have a little talk.”
A talk; he caught the tension in that. “Sorry, Mom, just-” He said; his eyes skipped over to Mal. “She’s really excited to go, and it’s… good for her, you know? Get her out of the house. Maybe later?”
“Oh, definitely, I’m glad she’s…” A pause. “Does she… has she talked to you about it, or…?”
“Not really.”
A sigh. “I thought so. Oh, poor Gemma–poor Mallory. It’s got to be so-”
“Hey, Dipper!” Mal shouted from the hearse. “Are you gonna stand there gossiping with Mom about me or are you coming with?”
Then she started the engine with a roar, and tore past them out of the parking lot. Their Mom blinked.
“She left without you!”
“No, we just take two cars everywhere now, apparently.” To her look, he could only offer a shrug. “She says she’s got a pickup in town?”
“That's not on my calendar. We really shouldn't be using the hearse just to go to lunch–it costs a fortune in gas.”
“Yeah, well…” A nervous laugh. “You can tell her that.”
“Hah. You’re… I’ll talk to her later.” His Mom hesitated for a moment, her hands clasped to her chest. “Dipper?”
Dipper knew what was coming; for a split second he thought about driving off as well, putting this off until some other time… but he was already stopping, already looking back. “Yeah?”
“I was just, um… funny story, I was talking to your father this morning, um…” A pause; now it was her who struggled to meet his eyes. “He said you were up pretty late. Are you sleeping alright, sweetie?”
He had such a pit in his stomach. His head was static.
“Uh… we were just- your father and I, we… this is going to sound, hah, silly, but-”
“You’re asking about the book,” Dipper said, because of course she was. “The dem-”
“Yes!” She spoke sharply, then put her hands up. “Yes, that, that thing. Look, sweetie, I’m sure you have a lot of questions-”
“Questions?” The static was louder now, a buzzing in his ears. “Yeah, you could say that! That was not what I was expecting, and you know, I’m getting pretty tired of all these bombshell secrets dropping about everyone I know! I would really like that to stop!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Why, why on earth do you guys have a-!” At her flinch, he forced himself to stop; right, not the thing to be yelling about in public. “I just- how long has this been going on? What are you guys doing? Do you know how illegal that is?”
She nodded; her eyes were blurring. “I know, I-I know. But we’ve been worried sick about you two since Gemma was killed; I know you’re still trying to investigate it. That’s what you’re both running off to do, aren’t you?” Her voice cracked, and she lowered it. “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to you two, I really couldn’t. He’s helped us before; if He could just watch over you two for a couple weeks-”
“He’s helped- what? Who?” At her silence, Dipper tried a dangerous question. “Alcor?”
Something in her jaw went tight. By way of answering, his Mom dug in her purse, and drew out her car keys.
“You shouldn’t be driving, sweetie.” She pressed a button, and the locks clicked open. “Please, let me give you a lift.”
Dipper hesitated for a long moment. He glanced across at his car, still dirty and dented from the beating it’d taken at Gemma’s… then, with a sigh, he moved towards hers.
“Fine,” he said. “But Mom, you’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”
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.
Mal didn’t read much–not anymore. She had fond memories of hanging out in the library after school, or stashing books in the forest for those lonely, lazy summers before she had her own car. It was her very first secret: her folks didn’t mean to discourage it, but they had a way of being pleasantly surprised to find her reading that she found absolutely infuriating. Nobody ever went ‘Wow, Dipper, are you feeling alright?’ when they caught him halfway through The Two Towers, so why’d she have to grimace through that same joke over and over and over again?
So of course, she learned to never let anyone catch her.
She’d leave the library when her Mom came to pick her up and pretend she was coming from laser tag. She wouldn’t touch her summer reading list; hey, she was supposed to be the stupid one, right, so why bother? She didn’t need their approval, she didn’t need anyone’s-
“I can’t take it anymore, Angie,” Mal felt a hand on her shoulder as she glared down at a blurring sheet of paper. “I’m so stupid, I’m so stupid, I’m so STUPID!”
“Whoa, calm down, it’s just math! Everyone hates-”
“Not Dipper! It comes so fucking easy to him–why do I even try? Why do I even try at anything!?”
-and with a jerk, Mal was back in the funeral home’s parking lot; midway through a drag on her vape, she gasped and hacked and coughed herself back into reality.
“Oh, shit,” she managed, staring up at the stars as she caught her breath. Then she snapped her head to the side, and scowled. “Is the-ere anything I can do to make you stop fucking doing that?”
She didn’t see his face; she never, never did. But the voice that spoke from her shoulder had become all too familiar.
“Oh, did I upset you?” crooned Ianitor. “I’m sorry, little murderer. I could see you were reminiscing; I just thought I’d help out.”
Bullshit, Mal thought… but she’d long since given up on arguing with him.
“If I may say,” he continued (always, always continued), “it’s strange how you remember past events. Demons, of course, we’re omniscient beings, but it seems like you humans have an oddly… selective memory. You don’t remember Harry in the library with you? Hanging out with Gemma in your forest?”
And sure enough, more little snapshots wormed their way into Mal’s mind. She was more prepared this time; as Harry’s dimpled smile flashed before her eyes, she took a long drag and just… tried to not be here.
“Emmy! Ohmigosh, how’s it going? I missed you soooo much!”
“Come on, Mal! You promised not to laugh at me!”
“Oh, my stars, you’re ridiculous. I love you.”
Her fingers were trembling, so she clasped them together. He’s in your head, so you just don’t think about it, that’s all you do. You just gotta shut off, you just gotta hold on–
“Help! Help! Please, Mal! I don’t wanna-”
“No. No way. That's sick. You’re sick.”
“So, uhh, how’re you holding up?”
“Is that a joke?”
“Of course not. Dude, you look like shit, I’m just trying to- where are you going? Harry? Come on, Harry, don’t be like that! Don’t- why won’t you just talk to me, Harry, come on! Please, Harry, please!”
He’s trying to get a rise; that’s all this is, a rise. Don’t react, don’t think, don’t feel. You don’t get to be a person anymore, this is what you de–wait, don’t think that, don’t- stop thinking, just stop, just STOP–
“Are we doomed? A-are we just doomed to this?”
“What are you talking about, Harry?”
“We’re trying to get away - we’ve always been trying to get away with this shit! Ever since Angeline, we’re– we’ve just been running from this and I CAN’T TAKE IT ANYMORE!”
“Emmy? What are you-”
“NO!”e
It was only when the sound echoed back to her that Mal realised she’d said it out loud. Stars filtered back in and found her back against the wall, her hands in her hair, the pen lying in the gravel by her feet.
Her heart was pounding so fast it hurt. No, no, no. Not that night. Not ever again–but a cackle in her ear was a chilling reminder this wasn’t up to her anymore.
“Oh, that one’s a bit too fresh, huh?” The naked glee in his voice could hide behind no pretense; she could hear the wet sounds of his smile. “I can still get you with that one.”
“Don-” Mal started, and then bit it back. Don’t. Don’t. She could see her vision narrowing in–no, please don’t, please! She’d do anything!
“Hah–anything? I hear that so often; you know my price, little murderer.”
Mal just nodded. Yeah, whatever, she’d do another one.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to overwork you; you’ve still got quite the backlog from when I helped you with-”
Her fists clenched. It’s fine! It’s fine! Everyone was still giving her space after– she had time to work on it, that’s all.
“Oh, I suppose that’s true.” And his voice drew back. “Very well, then. Enjoy your break, little murderer. I wouldn’t take too long if I were you.”
And then, finally, mercifully, silence. Mal stood for a moment in the peace of her own mind, eyes closed, soaking in the cricket-song. She used to come out here a lot–used to sneak out her bedroom window when she was a teenager, or walk out the backdoor while the glass was in the kiln, and stare up at the stars and wonder how much she’d miss them when she got to the big city. Maybe she’d get all burned out on NLA, and move onto one of those far-out floating islands, and start a plucky YA fantasy series under the pseudonym E. M. Mercury that unexpectedly hits it big and fly across the world on flashy book tours and movie adaptations but always come home to her cozy little farm under the stars… or, you know, something like that. It wasn’t like she’d put a bunch of thought into it, right?
The ghost of a grin flitted across her lips, before a sigh blew it away. That was all they were–ghosts, dead as the bodies she’d work with for the rest of her grinding life.
She thought a lot about reincarnation, these days. Starting again, leaving your past and your bloody hands behind, living a new life unburdened by all the mistakes you’d piled up in front of you. What would she be like? Would she be a different person… or–and bile climbed her throat–was this something deeper, some rot in her soul, dark and evil and inevitable, that reached out and choked everything good and kind around her?
What if she started over, and found out she was exactly the same?
A shudder. Bending down like someone twice her age, she scooped her vape out of the gravel and stuffed it into her pocket. Rubbed her face. Scratched her arms. Glanced back at the door, then up at the stars, searching like she could find something new in them.
Something.
Anything.
Anything at all.
…
But all she found was a hand on her shoulder. “Little murderer,” it started, and she honestly, truly, wished she was dead right now. “A moment of your time?”
She didn’t even bother to shake her head.
“Yes, yes, I was going to leave you alone. I’m so sorry to disturb you, but I thought you’d want to know something.”
Then he paused, made her turn her head and ask, “What is it?”
“It’s Dipper, your, ah,”–and he chuckled a bit–“your brother. Looks like he’s coming to knock on your door. I told you not to take too long, didn’t I?”
God damn it, Dipper–she rubbed her eyes. Why now? What did he want?
“You’d better go find out. We don’t want him to wonder what’s taking you so long.”
And that got her to move. With a groan, she picked herself off the wall and shuffled back into the crematory, locking the door behind her. Striding across the mess, she reached the other side just as there was a knock. There she paused, and managed a smile; her charm would turn it from a deadeyed grimace into something a little more presentable.
Cracking open the door, she slid outside and shut it behind her. “Dipper!” She said to the figure standing in the dimly-lit hall. “Hey, bro, two questions. What’s up, and why can’t this wait until morning?”
Dipper looked at her. “I know what you did,” he said, and her blood went cold.
“Wh-what? What do you mean?” She backed against the doors. “What are you talking about, I-I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
But he just looked confused. “Gemma’s code,” he said, slowly. “I said, I know what it says?”
“Uh…” Mal started, and then jumped at a cackle in her ear. The dots slowly connected: Ianitor. Motherfucker.
“Mal?” Dipper looked concerned now. “Are you-”
“Yeah! Yeah, sorry, fine, just…” She waited for his laughter and the white-hot fury in her chest to die down. “What do you- code? Gemma’s code?”
“Yeah… sorry.” His expression softened. “I know… we don’t have to… I know this has been really hard for you. Marsh and I, we can-”
“What, you’re gonna cut me out of this? Cut me out of solving my best friend’s murder?” She spotted a paper in his hands, and snatched it. “Let me see that.”
It was mostly just to check; yep, it was that little code she texted him from Gemma’s phone. Funny–he thought it was sooo easy, but it seems like he only just now figured out the second message she put in there. Smart twin, yeah right.
“No, no, not cutting you out at all, that’s, that's why I came down here!” Her eyes glazed over as he pointed at some circled letters. “I was taking another look, I noticed the x’s, this one is right in the middle of a sentence! Strange, right? And the letters after are capitalised; if you put those all together, they spell-”
“Cabin,” Mal said. Dipper grinned; his excitement was punchable. Nobody told her this false-trail stuff was gonna feel less suave and more like being on a show aimed at particularly stupid preschoolers–‘can you find the clue I left that’s staring you in the face?’ ‘Oh wow, good job!’
“Exactly!” He said, and her fists crumpled the page. “Her family’s cabin in the woods! There’s gotta be something there!”
“Okay, that…” She gritted her teeth. “I, I never would’ve noticed that! But, uh… are we supposed to go now or something?”
“What?”
“It’s the middle of the night, dude.” Shoving the paper back at him, she crossed her arms. “I don’t know about you, but I think vampire hunting is more of a daytime hobby.”
He blinked, the smile fading on his face. “Uh… no, yeah, totally! I just thought you’d want-”
“Want to know, yeah, thanks.”
“Mal-”
“Oh my god, if the next words out of your mouth are ‘how’re you doing’-” She stopped herself, put her hands up. “I’ll-, I’ll see you in the morning, alright?”
Worry was written all over Dipper’s face. He opened his mouth, closed it, and opened it again. “Okay.”
“Yeah, we’ll, we’ll get Marsh on this as well or something. I’ll call her.”
“Okay.” And as she turned her back on him: “I love you.”
For now, she thought. “I love you too,” she said, and then she shut the door in his face. There was no solitude to be had, though; immediately Ianitor piped up.
“You didn’t like my little prank, did you?” He snickered. “I do apologise, it was–what do you humans say? It was too good to pass up!”
“I thought I paid you to fuck off for a bit.”
“Oh, no, not at all! You should pay closer attention to the deals you make, little murderer.” His claws squeezed down on her shoulders as she crossed the room, stepping over some things. “You paid me to not bring up that certain little incident–for an unspecified amount of time as well, sloppy. Quite sloppy.”
She was digging through the drawers, trying to drown him out.
“And that ‘extra time’ you thought you had, hah, well, that’s just gone up in smoke, hasn’t it? Now that he’s found your trail, it seems like we’d better discuss the next stage of the plan.”
There they were; drawing them slowly out, Mal laid one glass charm on the desk, and then another. She cut two lengths of red ribbon and tied them into bracelets; crude work, but it’d do.
“It looks nice to me,” said Ianitor. “I like the red. It reminds me-”
“Of blood, yeah, you’re a demon, I get it.”
“Oh, you wound me, little murderer! I have more dimensionality than that!” A pause. “It reminds me of fresh blood. A true connoisseur knows to be specific.”
Mal let out a groan, turning to a long sigh, deflating her down, down, down until her face rested on the counter. She used to like murder mysteries; there was always a charm to the villains, wasn’t there? They could juggle like a million twists and still have time to trade their little quips. They never seemed stressed at all; it was unrealistic, that’s what it was!
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.
The sunset was the most beautiful he would ever see in his life. Bright but not searingly so, bearing all the colors of the rainbow plus a few bonus ones that only bees and art students can see. The two of them sat there in silence for a long while, appreciating and contemplating. As usual, it was Mabel who broke the silence.
“Don’t let your happiness die with me, Dipper. You still have a family after all, and even a dork like you can always make new friends.” At that last bit she elbowed him in the side playfully, kindly ignoring the half-laugh-half-sob the jab elicited.
“It won’t be the same though.” Dipper replied after a breath, not bothering to wipe away his tears anymore.
“Of course it won’t, silly. That’s the neat part about life, it’s always changing!” She giggled, before her face settled back into a more serious expression. “Just… try to find some joy, okay? Do it for me, at least until you learn to do it for yourself.”
Dipper didn’t know quite how to respond to that, so the two sat in silence together once again, until the dreamscape began to fade.
“I love you, brobro.” came Mabel’s tired voice.
“I love you too.” came the demon’s soft reply.
And so the dream ended. She was gone, and he remained, alone.
“Look at what?” Alcor looked back to see the Creature staring in open wonder out of the window; he looked as well, and frowned. “It’s just corn.”
“Corn?”
“You don’t know what corn is?”
“They don’t grow corn in the forest,” she mumbled, and kept staring out of the window. “What does it taste like? Maybe we should stop and try it!”
“I thought you wanted to get on to the desert.”
“I do! But those elves aren’t gonna be jumping us now we’re out of the trees.” She chuckled and shook her head. “Jeez, and it’s so flat, too! Yeah, no elf wants to be out here.”
Alcor gave a wry smile. “Glad to hear that… but, uh, not you?”
She looked at him questioningly, and he cleared his throat.
“I mean, you said you’re an elf, too. If they’re not able to survive in the desert-“
“Survive? Oh, they can survive just fine, and so can I.” She snorted. “Their magic just takes a hit is all, and I don’t need to worry about that.”
“Oh, good to know!”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine out there, same as I was fine in the sewers.” She sat back a little in her seat, bracelets softly jangling. “I’ll survive,” she said, quietly. “That’s what I do.”
There was a wistful edge to that, and he frowned. “Is… that what you want, though?”
“To survive? Uh, yes.”
“No, no, sure, to survive, yeah, but…” he struggled for the right words. “You were, you were living in a sewer-“
“Where else would I live? Above ground?” She shifted in the backseat - constantly shifted, like the space was too small for her. “You’ve seen what I really look like. It’s not gonna happen.”
“I mean, it could happen. People got used to all sorts of creatures after the Transcendence.”
“People got used to some sorts of creatures. Look, your average elf just looks like a human with pointy ears - of course they fit in.”
“But-“
“But we don’t.” She arched an eyebrow. “Come on, man, you know this. You were just telling me about how you disguised yourself as human to go to university. You think they’d have been cool with a demon signing up for classes?”
Alcor opened his mouth - and then he sighed. “No… But you’re not a demon.”
“I might as well be to them.” He saw her in the mirror, staring down at her hands. She caught his look, and tried for a smile. “But look, we don’t have to argue about this - it’s just the way things are, you know?”
“I guess.”
“And it wasn’t like it was some endless torment living in the sewers. I made it my own.” She turned to the window. “You know, I built that cabin you saw in the woods. I used to come out there a lot, just to… to be amongst the trees, to spend a night under the stars. If I can just have a little place like that again, I wouldn’t ask for anything else.”
He watched her look out over the cornfields, that smile on her face slowly fading.
That was all she’d ask for, huh. Alcor wanted to say something else… but what was there to say?
He thought for a moment.
“Well… I could visit?”
“Hm,” she said, not seeming to hear him at first. Then she looked up. “What was that?”
“I could visit - if you want, of course!” He watched her expression. “It’s been kinda, kinda nice, taking this road trip with you. I mean, maybe it’s silly, but-“
“No, no, no.” A new kind of grin was warming her face. “I’d like that.”
Cornfields and grasslands gave way to plains as the night turned to dawn. They talked of things here and there--they even stopped for a whole pack of sodas just outside Oklahoma City--but the more they drove, the quieter the Creature became. Often Alcor felt her stare on him; not so predatory, but… thoughtful.
It was strange. Now that he knew, it didn’t feel anything like hanging out with a Mizar--no, it wasn’t just Mizar she was imitating, Mabel. She looked like Mabel, spoke like Mabel, laughed like Mabel… but man, the longer he spent with her, the more the veneer peeled away from the person behind it.
(And the more he wondered how he’d ever been fooled.)
That thought put a pit in his stomach; Mabel was so much more than a tug on his soul from a girl in a sweater… and yet, that was all he needed to make him believe. Man, he’d been pretty far gone, hadn’t he?
(If he was in a good period, would he have done any better?)
Bracelets jingled in the back. The Creature shifted in her seat again--always shifted--and in the darkness of a new day, all he could see was the glint of her gaze, the shape of a cheek silhouetted against the window.
They were passing into New Mexico when they hit the end of the AC dial. Grass had long given way to shrubland, and as the Creature wound down her window to a blast of hot air from a cloudless sky, she couldn’t help but voice the obvious.
“Uh, I think we’re here.”
Alcor glanced at her through his mirror. “Here?”
“Yeah, this looks pretty desert to me… what?” She frowned at his chuckle. “What?”
“You want me to drop you off here? Like here here, on the side of the highway?”
“Well, duh, not here. We’re coming up on a city, right?” They passed a sign listing ALBERQUEUE 150 MI. “See, look, sign. If there’s a sign, it’s close!”
“You, uh… you can read, right?”
“Hey, rude! Of course I can read.” Bracelets jangled as she huffed and crossed her arms. “Elvish, mostly. These human ones fly by too fast. Why?”
“Well, let’s just say I’m not dropping you off to walk along the highway in ninety degrees? I think that would actually be the thing to kill you.”
“Fine, then drop me off in that place you said, Albert something!”
“I could do that…”
“Yes?” Her eyebrow arched. “What, you have somewhere else in mind?”
Alcor gave a shrug, flashed a fanged smile. “Well, if it’s all the same to you… I think I’ve got an idea.”
“An idea?”
“Just! Just trust me, yeah? It won’t be too much longer!”
“Trust you,” the Creature echoed. A little grin tugged at her lips, and she sat back. “Huh. Alright.”
And so they drove on. On and on, past Alberqueque and back into baking flatlands. Power lines and the odd truck stop were all that followed them for miles, but slowly, all around them, the desert began to rise. Alcor saw the Creature staring openmouthed at the red canyon ridges rising all around them, and he grinned; as the sunlight waned, he steered them towards an overlook point and turned in.
“We’re stopping? Are we here?”
“Almost, almost- come on!” Alcor took out the keys. “You gotta see it before the sun goes down!”
“See what?” The Creature watched him jump out. “What are we seeing?”
Following him out, the two of them found themselves staring down at a small town huddled in a great red-rock canyon, the colour glowing in the golden light. The clouds dappling the sky had turned a soft orange, mixing with the dusty blue like a painting--like a painting, that phrase turning over in Alcor’s mind as he took in the scene. But it was more than that; leaves rustled all around him, lights came on in the town below, things moved and breathed and changed in the way they always did… in the ways he found so easy to forget.
But for a moment, shielding his eyes from the sunlight peeking through a bush, that thought felt so far away from him. For a moment, he wasn’t some demon, but a part of this world, a part of this scene: just a guy on a road trip, showing his friend something cool.
And by the look on her face--well, omniscience had its perks. He grinned.
“You like it?”
“It’s…” The Creature glanced at him, but her gaze slid back to the view, like she couldn’t keep her eyes off it. “I didn’t know deserts could look like this.”
“It’s pretty, isn’t it?”
“It’s beautiful.” Her voice trembled a little. “This… this is where you wanted to take me?”
“Well, I was thinking about what you said. How you’d like to live somewhere with nature--well, here’s some nature, right?” He gave a little laugh. “Welcome to Sedona. That’s the little town down there.”
“Sedona.” He watched her look down; her shoulders slumped a little. “It is… small. This place is great, but I don’t know if it could sustain me. Is there a bigger city nearby?”
“Do you want to live near a city?”
She wrinkled her nose. “Not really, no. But it just doesn’t math out otherwise--it was hard finding enough magi-orbs in New York.”
He watched her heave a sigh, and turn around.
“Well… this was really cool. You know, the way elves talk about deserts, I was pretty sure I was signing up to live in a wasteland the rest of my life. Knowing places like this exist…” Glancing back, she gave a sad smile. “Well, maybe I can visit sometime.”
And then she turned to head back to the car, but Alcor had other plans. He couldn’t keep a grin off his face as he caught her shoulder.
“What?” She studied his face, his hand ducking behind his back. “What?”
“Well, just hypothetically… what if you could live somewhere like here?”
“Uhhh, how would that work?”
“I mean, if you didn’t have to rely on magi-orbs. That would be pretty good, right?”
“Where are you going with this?”
And to that, Alcor drew out a fist-sized, glowing sphere of energy. It shimmered in the dying light, lighting up the Creature’s wide eyes.
“Is that…?”
“A bit of my magic, yeah!” He met her look with a grin. “It makes sense, right? You eat magic, I've got more than I know what to do with--it's a win-win!”
“I… I can’t accept this. I’d be eating you.”
“And what’s a little cannibalism between friends, right?”
“I’m serious!”
“Hey, so am I!” He held it out. “Look, I have pretty much an infinite supply of magic, you’re not gonna drain me dry. Come on, take it!”
He waited a moment, but when she didn’t reach out he dropped it into her hands. She flinched and gripped it tight, turning it over with an unreadable expression.
“This is… oh, my stars. I don’t know what to say.”
“Hey, I told you I’d get you somewhere safe. All part of the deal, right?” He chuckled, but her eyes were welling with tears. He felt a lump in his throat as well. “We, uh… we gotta look out for each other, right? You’ve helped me too. More than… more than you know.”
She looked up at that, and wiped her eyes. Then, she spoke quietly.
“Can I have a pen and paper?” She said. The question caught him off guard; he blinked at her for a moment.
“Pen and…? Oh, uh, okay.” Summoning them from thin air, he handed them to her and watched her spread it over her knee. “Oh, do you need a clipboard as well, or…? What are you writing?”
She didn’t respond. Finishing with a flourish, she held it out to him, and stayed silent as he began to read. It was strange how the paper seemed to change: spotless in her hands, as soon as it passed to him it was like he suddenly noticed a grimey crinkle at the top, the grip of a hand far larger than his own. He expected her writing to be messy, but the top part was actually a beautiful cursive, written in a script that seemed almost to float off the page.
Elvish words sang in his mind, but their rough translation also echoed in a second, shakier message underneath:
THAИK YOU
“I wanted to say that to you myself,” he looked up as the Creature spoke again, her hands clasped in front of her sparkly sweater. “Without the… the filters you see me through.”
Those words hung in the air between them. A gust of wind kicked up, and Alcor clutched the page to his chest as it passed. He read it over again, a smile warming his throat.
“Thank you… yeah, we had a good time together, huh?” His eye caught on another Elvish line at the bottom; he pointed it out. “What does this say?”
“Thalia,” she said. “You wanted to know my name, didn’t you?”
“Oh, yeah! Thalia…” Something about that sounded familiar, but he couldn’t pin it down. “I like it! It’s a nice name.”
She beamed. “It’s been a long time since I needed it; nearly forgot how it’s spelled. But hey, that handwriting--not bad after a couple centuries in a sewer, eh?”
“No, hah, it’s better than mine! How do you hold the pen?”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, you know, with the,” he mimed the shape of her claws. “I thought that would make it hard.”
“Not really.” She crossed her arms. “Yours aren’t so trimmed either--how do you hold a pen?”
“My nails aren’t that long. I just…” Alcor summoned a pen between his fingers, and immediately felt his claws clack against the plastic. “Wait, I- huh, I never noticed they… oh, this is like the stupid manual breathing thing, I- I could do it if I wasn’t thinking about it!”
Thalia snickered, and as night fell in the desert, anyone driving by wouldn’t look twice at a pair of friends sitting together on the hood of their car, looking out over the valley as the constellations came alive.
Mizar shimmered far above, but tonight, she was just a star in a beautiful sky.
Hehe I got commissioned by @toothpastecanyon to draw Mal and Dipper from his fic "Return, to the Scene of the Crime" (which you should totally check out if you're into TAU no im not biased what are you talking about)!!
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.
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.
[hey darling HUGE news about LA! Call me when you can xxx]
07:38
MISSED CALL
VOICEMAIL
[Don’t want to explain too much on the phone but let’s just say it’s gonna be a bit harder to track her down 😅]
[Gonna need to make some decisions, haha! 😆]
09:49
CALL SILENCED
VOICEMAIL
09:56
[I know you’re still mad Dipper, totally understandable!! But this is a huge lead and I really really want to coordinate with you on this xxx]
[Gotta think about flight tickets ♥️♥️♥️]
[You’ll have to go since I can’t]
[Jealous!!!! 😂]
CALL SILENCED
CALL SILENCED
11:45
CALL SILENCED
12:06
[Aww you’re gonna make me come up there aren’t you 😅]
12:34
CALL SILENCED
12:56
MISSED CALL
14:32
[Hey Gemma, sorry I missed all this. And sorry it got a bit weird at the end there, I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you about my Dad]<
14:47
MISSED CALL
[Happy to call anytime!]<
[Oh and Mom says thanks for the fruit basket]<
16:29
MISSED CALL
VOICEMAIL
[Just wanted to follow up since it seemed fairly urgent!]<
[Marsh and I are really interested to hear about the Lucy Ann lead]<
[She left the country I’m guessing?]<
18:37
[Hey, sorry if I’m texting you a lot. I just got my thoughts together a bit after this afternoon. It was definitely weird that Mal didn’t tell you about Dad. I’ve been really worried about her actually, she hasn’t been acting like herself.]<
20:17
[I don’t know if I should tell you this but you’re her best friend.]<
[She’s been pulling out her hair and wearing a charm to hide it.]<
20:22
[And she wants to be co owner of the funeral home now? Like you see that’s crazy too, that’s never been Mal. It feels like she’s just decided this is her life now and it’s killing her but I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to make her talk to me, she bites my head off when I try haha.]<
[Sometimes I feel like she's gonna hit me haha]<
20:35
[I just feel like I failed her]<
[you’re right, I don’t listen to people enough]<
[i didnt support her enough when dad got sick and now i dont knjw if its too late to]<
20:47
[Um anyway, sorry for the huge dump, I didn’t mean to write that much haha]<
[Just as I said I am really worried about her. It’s totally understandable if you’re mad at her, but I really think Mal needs people in her corner right now.]<
21:03
It was an all-hands meeting in their bedroom that evening: papers spread out on the bottom bunk, dinners going cold on the desk. He’d dug out his ancient highschool laptop to video call Marsh, and she was watching him pace the floor.
“Doesn’t make any sense,” he was muttering. Mal, sifting through the documents laid out on the bed, was an obstacle for him to avoid. “Why would she encode that? I don’t get it.”
“You’ve solved it already?” Marsh’s voice came through staticky. When Dipper kept pacing, she looked to Mal. “He solved it? What does it say?”
Mal took a moment to pick up a page. When she looked up, she was all smiles. “He sure did! Dipper’s all about this secret code shit, it was all he read about in middle school! Look, he’s got…” She pointed to his book case. “Like a million of these codebreaker books. Real nerd stuff, too; man, I think this one’s just a straight up textbook. You read this for fun, dude?”
Dipper didn’t respond beyond a distracted hum. With a chuckle, Mal brushed past him to get to the computer.
“Here, I’ll type it up for you. I don’t know how Dipper got this message out of the gobbledygook Gemma sent; it must’ve been some complicated code!”
“Huh?” Finally, Dipper glanced over. “Oh, no. It was a simple keyword cipher--you could’ve generated it on the internet in two seconds.”
“Oh, now you share with the class.” Mal rolled her eyes. “If it was so simple, why’d it take you a whole day to figure it out?”
“It didn’t take me a whole day, it took me like, half an hour.”
“Oh, suuure.”
“It’s true!”
Mal opened her mouth, but Marsh cut in: “Okay, okay! Can we stay focused, guys? What did Gemma say?”
“Hmph.” Mal stepped away from the laptop. “If you’re so smart, you don’t need me.”
“Uh, okay, okay.” Dipper cleared his throat. A bit of a grin crept up his face; of course this was serious, but when did he ever get to talk about codebreaking without putting someone to sleep? “So what Gemma did was encode the message in a keyword cipher. The whole idea is you shuffle up the letters based on a keyword, and in theory, nobody should be able to crack the code unless they have the keyword you used.”
Marsh nodded. “In theory?”
“Yeah, it’s actually pretty simple to break with frequency analysis- but look, you hardly even have to do that!” He held a printed copy of the text up to the camera. “You see the E’s are capitalised? That just means all the E’s are actually I’s.” He couldn’t help but laugh. “She even left in the apostrophes! This thing was begging to get solved.”
“Yeah, yeah, so Gemma fucked up her code,” Mal’s tone was snippy. “We get it, can you tell Marsh what it says already?”
“Sorry, alright. Here.”
And he quickly pasted a copy of the text into chat:
Ciao darling xxx Am sorry about yesterday, just had a xxx Big brainwave about the case! xxx I think I know where LA is. xxx Now this is suuuper important, I’m going 2 try catch her but if I don’t come back in 24 hours, let the cops know xxx
Dipper watched her eyes scan across the message. After a moment, she said: “Twenty four hours. She didn’t give you a lot of time to crack it.”
“She kn-, knows it’s Dipper’s thing,” Mal gave him a clap on the shoulder. “I used to brag about this guy, haha!”
“Yeah, that’s probably why she didn’t make it too hard, but…” He tapped a pen against his chin. “Why encode it at all, then?”
A shrug from Mal. “She’s on house arrest. Maybe she didn’t want to tip the cops off?”
“Wait, yeah, she’s on house arrest.” Marsh frowned. “She’s really risking a lot, here.”
“And she’s got an ankle monitor on,” murmured Dipper. “It’s so strange. Earlier she was implying Lucy Ann was out of the country, but there’s no way she could go far with that thing. They’d pick her up.”
“She must’ve found some new information.” Mal crossed her arms. “Something to suggest she was local. And strong enough for her to risk breaking bail.”
The room was silent for a moment; contemplation was thick in the air. Dipper found himself gnawing at his pen--it clicked in his mouth, and his eyes widened.
“M’b-” He took the pen out. “Sorry, I mean, maybe Lucy Ann came to her?”
Mal raised an eyebrow. “Yeah?”
“That’s why it’s a weird hour. That’s why it’s coded--it was just to keep Lucy Ann from seeing it. And then…” A frown; it wasn’t coalescing as he liked. “She left, maybe? And Gemma followed her, she didn’t want to lose track of her.”
“So she asked you to keep tabs--that makes sense.” Mal was nodding; Marsh frowned.
“Well, it’s been almost a whole day. Has anyone heard from her?”
“Nope,” said Mal, popping the P. Dipper checked his phone.
“I’ve been trying to reach out… nothing so far.” There was a pit in his stomach as he looked at his unanswered messages. “It’s not like her to be so quiet. You don’t… Lucy Ann wouldn’t…?”
Marsh shook her head. “No. She didn’t even touch Xiaofan.”
“Yeah… no, no, you’re right.” Dipper let out a breath; he could see Mal arch an eyebrow, but he hurried on. “So-so what do we do about this message? If we go to the police and say Gemma left her house, they won’t be happy with her.”
“Gemmy knows that.” Mal rubbed her cheek. “She wouldn’t have said it if she didn’t know exactly what she was doing.”
“24 hours from… 2am, though?” Marsh’s face was skeptical. “Has anyone checked her house?”
Dipper shook his head. “We’ve had work.”
“Yeah, big funeral today.” Mal eyed the floor. “A lot of work. I say we stick to Gemma’s plan. Twenty four hours, we call the cops.”
“No, we really should check first,” said Marsh. “We’ll get her in a lot of trouble if we’re wrong on this.”
“You think she doesn’t know her own bail conditions?” She shot back. “I’m Gemmy’s best friend; if there’s one thing you gotta know about her, it’s that she’s already thought of whatever you’re thinking of. I mean,” A chuckle. “Her whole plan at that cabin was to take Lucy Ann to the cops. Who’s to say she’s not… I dunno, using the tracker on her ankle monitor to call them down on her, or whatever?”
“You think she’s doing that?”
“No, no, I’m just saying… that’s how she plans, you know? Everything’s got a meaning.” Mal grinned at Dipper. “Right, bro? I mean, she ran circles around you and Lucy Ann.”
Dipper was still staring down at his phone. Those texts he sent last night, all the worries he poured out to her… unanswered. That pit in his stomach didn’t go away; the more he looked at them, the more it grew, the more a terrible feeling of wrongness took hold. This wasn’t like her, it was saying. This wasn’t like her.
eeeeeeee…
“Dipper?” Mal was saying, and he swallowed, hard.
“W-we should, we should check.” He stuffed his phone in his pocket. “On her. On Gemma.”
“Ugh, really?”
“I just, I don’t- Marsh is right.” He tried for a smile. “It makes sense, right? Just to make sure?”
“Hmm,” Mal still seemed to waver. She turned towards the papers on his desk. “What are the x’s?”
“Just to- huh?”
Mal tapped the message:
Ciao darling xxx Am sorry about yesterday, just had a xxx Big brainwave about the case! xxx I think I know where LA is. xxx Now this is suuuper important, I’m going 2 try catch her but if I don’t come back in 24 hours, let the cops know xxx
“Look,” she said. “There’s a lot of x’s in her message.”
Marsh gave a wry smile. “It’s not a Gemma text without them.”
“But they're in weird places, aren't they? One's in the middle of a sentence.” She turned to Dipper. “What'd'you think of that?”
“I don't… that is odd, yeah.” Frowning, he glanced towards the door. “I'll, uh, think about it.”
“You’re still going?”
“Why wouldn’t he?” Marsh cut in. “She’s your best friend, Mal, you really don’t want to check up on her?”
“I… no, I just, Gemma…” Mal trailed off, and sighed. “No, no, maybe you guys are right. I hope she’s okay.”
“I’m sure she will be,” said Marsh. “Listen, I’ve got work in a couple hours, so I’m gonna get some sleep in; I’ll keep my phone on. You two let me know if you see her, alright?”
Dipper nodded. Mal mimed a salute. “You got it. Man, a couple hours from now? You’re working late.”
“Tch, yeah, hospitality’s a dream.” Marsh rolled her eyes. “I’ll see you guys later. Good luck.”
Then she hung up. As soon as her face disappeared, Mal rolled her eyes. “Welp, we’ve been given our orders. You know, if we were set on checking up on her, we really should have met earlier.”
Dipper made a face. “Yeahhh, we were busy.”
“Busy, yeah, but we could’ve found the time to meet.” She glanced over at the laptop. “It’s a shame. Marsh is great, but planning around a full-time student with a job’s really slowing us down.”
Dipper didn’t know what to say to that. He patted his pockets; no, the keys were probably downstairs. “I guess… Do you want to drive, or me?”
“It was probably easier when you guys were all in the same dorm, huh?” She gave him a strange smile. “Maybe I’m the one who’s slowing things down.”
“Huh? Oh, no, no! Not at all, Mal, I’m really glad you’re here!”
“Are you sure? I feel like I kind of ticked Marsh off at the end.” She looked away. “Of course I’m worried about Gemma, of course! It’s just, I also know her. We know her! Has Marsh even met her?”
“I know, I know,” Dipper came over; his hand hovered over her shoulder, but he thought better of it. “I don’t think she meant it that way, she’s just-”
“Well if she didn’t mean it that way, why’d she say it?”
“I-!” He struggled for words. “It’s not… I don’t think she…”
“Oh, forget it.” Mal crossed the room to sit on the bed. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to come between you and your special college friends, I’ll just- I’ll try to be less sensitive, I guess.”
“No, no, you don’t-”
She glared at him. “I said forget it. It’s fine, okay?”
Dipper opened his mouth, but the look on her face shut it up. “Okay,” he managed, and stood there awkwardly in the stretching silence. “Uh… okay.”
Mal didn’t respond. Arms crossed, she scowled down at the floor. A pen was lying by her foot; he watched her roll it back and forth with the tip of her shoe, then kick it under the bed.
He cleared his throat. “Well…” He started, and saw her go completely still. “I’m gonna, uh, check on Gemma. Did you want to…?”
She didn’t say a word, didn’t move a muscle. She didn’t have to. With a gulp, Dipper stepped away.
“Alright… alright, no problem.” He tried for a smile. “I’ll, uh, tell Gemma you said hi!”
Nothing. With a sigh, Dipper turned his back, and made to leave. The door creaked as he swung it upon, but just as he was closing it behind him-
“Hey.”
Mal. Dipper stopped and glanced back. “Yeah?”
She was looking at him with a strange expression, face pale, her eyes glinting, the corners of her lips turned distinctly down. She opened her mouth, but then she seemed to stop herself, and her eyes slipped past him for a moment before refocusing.
“Drive safe.” She said, and managed a smile. “You know I love you, right?”
Dipper smiled back. “I know,” he said. “I love you too… You know, you can talk to me about anything, right?”
“Sure.”
“I mean it.”
“I’ll tell Mom you’re getting snacks.”
“Mal-” Dipper started… but she was sitting there, arms crossed, that placid smile bared like a shield. It was no use. “Okay. I’ll be back soon.”
Then he slipped out and closed the door behind him, leaving Mal to her own devices.
Night driving was the worst. Turning up his radio, Dipper stared out at the winding country road unfolding in his high beams; everywhere else was darkness, and it pressed in ominously. Also pressing in was his headache, and it was an effort to ignore it, to focus.
“Drive safe,” he muttered to himself. “Yeah, Mal, thanks for that. Thank you soooo much.”
Gemma lived up the hill--with her uncle, he wanted to say? It was where all the nice houses were, and indeed, as he climbed, the roads widened, the potholes thinned out. A well-trimmed hedge covered his view of the forest, and streetlights lit his way.
And then: orange signs. SLOW DOWN, they said. UTILITY WORK AHEAD. Cones cut the road in half, and as Dipper crawled his way past the construction, he realised where this was.
“Oh, wow,” he breathed. “It’s completely gone.”
The ruins of the Collins estate left behind by the gas explosion had been taken down completely; Dipper could see stars through the clearing. Dark shapes of construction vehicles loomed in the flashing orange lights, and the last shreds of police tape fluttered from the open iron gates. A deep, dark pit had been dug in the road just in front, like a grave.
eeeeeeeeeeeeeee…
It was so still, here. So… empty. Not the radio nor the hum of the engines could dim the deafening silence; the lights of the houses just a little further on felt a million miles away, and he… he wanted to reach them.
He had to go.
He had to get out of here.
Dipper didn’t know why a sudden fear seized him, but he stepped on the accelerator. The car lurched forwards; he didn’t speed, but his knuckles went white as he resisted the urge. The last of the cones were coming up, just five… four, three two-
Pain shot like lightning through his skull; half a second later, something came flying out of the hedges, he started to turn but BANG!
The whole car lurched; Dipper lurched with it and his head smacked the side. Stars were all he saw, pain was all he felt. He covered his face and just tried to ride it out.
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEIEEEEEEEEEEEEEWANTEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEETELLEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE…
eeeeeeshoweeeeeeeeeeeeeyoueeeeeeeeeeeeeeee…
And as the pounding, throbbing, pressing agony slowly faded, Dipper cracked open his eyes. His head was still killing him, but he had to look around, had to see what on earth that was!
It was… it was gone.
Opening his door, Dipper staggered over to the side of his car, expecting to see a big dent but- no. Nothing. The only thing damaged was a cone squished under his front tire.
“Oh…” Dipper managed. “Well that’s just… just great, that’s-”
And then he threw up on the hood of his car. Great. Yeah, something else going wrong, he really needed that. When he finished, knees wobbling, head swimming, he grappled the side of the car as he staggered back in.
“Awesome, awesome, love this, love this…” He sat back, hands up, waiting for the world to stop spinning. “Drive safe-thanks Mal, fucking thanks. Agh, how long is that stupid necklace gonna take, stupid…”
And he just dissolved into muttering, anything to get his mind off the way his eyes felt like they were being shoved out of their sockets.
Slowly, mercifully, it was fading. The sound of the radio was coming back, along with another sound. Distant sirens didn’t register much in his mind as he dug for his phone; the brightness made him squint, but he was in no shape to drive. Maybe his mom could… huh.
Those sirens were getting close. He could see lights flickering from the edge of the clearing; they turned, and suddenly they were right behind him. Did someone see him crash?
As he sat there, they pulled right up to them, and the sirens were deafening, the red-red-blue-blue flash triggering his headache all over again. He could see through his mirror the guy was reaching for something, were they-
“HEY,” Boomed a voice from a speaker. “YOU IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROAD. ARE YOU BLIND? MOVE YOUR VEHICLE.”
Oh, shit. Dipper scrambled to pull over to the side; the cop tailgated him all the way, and then released one last blast from the horn as it passed. He raised his eyebrows; gee, thanks, man.
As he watched it speed down the road, though, he couldn’t feel too bad. There was obviously some kind of emergency, he hoped it wasn’t anything too-
He watched its indicators flick on. Before his eyes, the police car turned down Gemma’s lane, and his stomach dropped.
No. No, surely not.
(Surely not what?)
Dipper didn’t realise he was following until he was inching forwards. He braked for a second, hesitated… and then hit the accelerator. His car shuddered over the last of the cones, then he made it to the turn.
Looking down the road, the cruiser was still there, parked, lights flashing just in front of Gemma’s house. Dipper’s eyes went wide.
“Oh, no,” His hands slipped on the wheel as he turned. “No, no, no…”
The closer he got, the worse it looked. The lights coming on in neighboring houses, the curtains twitching, dogs barking. The doors left open on the cop car, left open at the house, light streaming onto the porch in blues and reds and eerie whites.
The scream. It happened just as he pulled up; never before or since had he heard such a desperate noise. Footsteps--in front of his terrified eyes, a man in a dressing robe and slippers came charging out of the door, shaking his head, running his hands through his hair.
“No, no, no,” the man was saying, face red, eyes wild. An officer was chasing after him, but he barely noticed. “No, no, it’s not- I don’t- it can’t be her. It can’t.”
“Wait, sir-”
“It can’t!” The words came like a force, and he backed into the street, eyes fixed on the door, the door, the door. Dipper watched his face crumple; his legs wobbled, and he stumbled to his knees, fists pressed into his face. “Ohhh,” and the sound he made was an animal keening. “No, no, no, my little girl, that’s my little girl, that’s my…”
The officer came over and blocked his view--thank god. Tearing his eyes away, Dipper could hear more sirens in the distance, could see another officer come out of the house with his gun drawn. What on earth had happened in there?
As the cop slipped into the back yard, Dipper noticed something in the darkness of their driveway--two stars, only they were much lower than all the other ones, they were… they were eyes.
Animal eyes, staring straight at him. They sent a shiver down Dipper’s spine; he met their gaze, and felt his head beginning to pound again.
eeeeeeeeeee…
eeeeeeeeeeEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-
It felt like a pop in his head; the pain was… still awful, but it was like something had given way; there wasn’t so much pressure.
And that wasn’t the only thing. Opening his eyes, Dipper was suddenly seeing… differently.
Everything was brighter? Things were glowing on the road; they moved, and he realised they were people! What the hell? He looked to the eyes, and he could suddenly make out a tall, shimmering figure with antlers. There was an oilslick iridescence to its light, and the pain started to ramp again, so he looked away.
He looked at the house, and… it was so strange, he was sitting in the car, but he could also see things like he was standing in the doorway, he could see the coatrack on the inside wall. He looked at a door and he was inside a kitchen--or he was looking through the wall? He had to close his eyes and breathe.
What on earth was going on? He looked at his hands, but they didn’t glow like the others; he checked the mirror, and saw his eyes had taken on a strangely golden shine… what had it done to him?
Seeeee…
A voice. All other sounds had faded to mumbles, but something cut through the noise.
Seeeee again…
He didn’t know what that meant… but he saw the shining figure of Gemma’s uncle being helped to his feet. He couldn’t hear him anymore, but looking at him, Dipper felt tears springing to his eyes, felt this deep hole of shock and horror and building anguish twisting within him; he’d seen something awful in there.
Dipper looked to the house, his heart thumping. He looked, and he was in the hallway. A cup of tea was on a side table. Stairs; a blink, and he was on the second floor.
There: a door, kicked open, lying sideways in the frame. And inside…
“Oh, god,” Dipper breathed.
Gemma was on the bed, dressed in flowy blue pyjamas, her hands clasped on her chest like how they laid out bodies for viewing. She looked so peaceful… and so, so, dead.
Two deep wounds gouged her pale neck, yawing wide and showing bone. Her eyes were closed, her hair was neat… but there were bruises. Ugly purple things mottled her cheek, and her forearms were particularly colourful.
No blood, though. Not a drop on her pillow, even though her neck opened just centimeters over the fabric. Not a drop in her body, judging by her ghostly complexion. It was like she’d been… been drained.
Oh, god.
Dipper swallowed, hard. He’d seen bodies before--messy ones, sometimes. But nothing had prepared him for seeing Gemma’s body. She was- she was dead, she was murdered!
(And who drains their victim’s blood?)
No. No, no, it couldn’t be.
(Who was Gemma trying to bring to justice?)
No! No, it couldn’t- there had to be some other explanation, there just had to be! His eyes cast wildly around the room, there were little scuff marks on the floor, was that something? The door had been locked, but there was a window to the backyard. There was an end table, but when he reached for it his hand hit the steering wheel--oh, right.
The ceiling fan, it looked… looked damaged. Not by much, but it looked like it’d been pulled out of the drywall a bit, the fixture was tilted sideways. Did it get hit by the door somehow, or-
A knocking sound; someone was rapping on his car window. Blinking, Dipper saw the bright-glowing figure fade into the face of a policeman.
He rolled down his window. “Uh-” he started, but they cut him off.
“You’ve gotta move your car, sir.” He motioned, and Dipper saw another two cop cars had arrived on scene; they were laying out yellow tape. “We need to secure the perimeter. Are you a resident?”
“I…” He saw Gemma’s uncle crumpled on the curb with his face in his hands. “No, I- what happened?”
“We’re investigating an incident, that’s all you need to know.” He pointed down the street. “Turn around at the cul-de-sac and come straight back out, yeah?”
“Okay,” he managed, and distantly noticed the cop walking away. He started driving, past the house, past the flashing lights, past the neighbors in sleepwear standing on their driveways. It was all noise to him.
All he could see was Gemma. Gemma’s body. Gemma’s body.
It’d been a long time since Lucy Ann had used a loom, and she was learning one thing: she didn’t miss it. She sat in the sunny courtyard, surrounded by bright bundles of hand-spun yarn, struggling to thread the weft with her little arms. She had to crawl halfway into the frame each time; squeezing herself out, she came face-to-face with a dove perched on the loom.
“Oh yeah?” Lucy Ann grumbled at it. “Let’s see you do a better job, drumstick.”
“What was that?” From across the courtyard, Šikkû took an earbud out. “Did you say something?”
“No, no, just… talking to myself.”
“I see.” She nodded to herself, and then started up her arc welder again. The bright light illuminated her bare face. “You should borrow my headphones. I find the work more enjoyable with some music, or a podcast.”
“Hmph. You like podcasts now?”
“Oh, yes! I like this one where they play Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons together.” She laughed. “It beats talking to yourself.”
Lucy Ann stared at her pathetic progress on the loom, and then at one of the intricate rugs draped over a clothesline. “Yeahhhh, I don’t know if I’ve got the patience for this.”
“That’s alright; would you like to try something else? I think you’d like glassmaking.”
“Hmmm…” She looked towards the street. “I was thinking of going for a walk.”
“A walk?”
“Yeah!” She watched Šikkû mull it over. “Just down to the river… No worries if you’re busy-”
“Oh, no, no--actually, I think I was meant to drop some papers off at the college.” She stroked her chin. “Perhaps… I’ll finish off this piece, and then we can go on this walk?”
As promising as that sounded, Lucy Ann knew Šikkû only had like a 30% chance of following through. “Sure, I’ll wait for you,” she said, leaving out ‘within reason’. “I’m going inside, you want something to drink?”
Šikkû started welding again. “No, I’ve had… my…”
And then she just trailed off, absorbed into her work. Lucy Ann raised an eyebrow; yeah, make that 20%.
Still, it was refreshing to get out of the sun for a moment. Once she got a drink, she wandered into the living room and flopped down on the couch; two cats immediately jumped onto her lap, and she sank back.
“Ah, yeah,” with a stretch, she put down her glass, and started petting a tabby one. Its purr rumbled through her legs. “You and me both, buddy.”
With drooping eyes, she looked at Šikkû outside. Well… maybe she’d just… take a little nap… first…
…
“Athar’an--Min fadlak, min anta?”
Šikkû’s voice filtered in from outside. Lucy Ann didn’t pay it much mind… until someone replied.
“Uh… ma, fee… uh…” and then they spoke in English: “I’m sorry, I don’t- are you Dr. Hazem?”
Now that was unusual. Lucy Ann opened her eyes, and saw Šikkû had stood up, and was blocking her view of the visitor.
“I am,” Šikkû said, and she could see her gripping the metal pole she’d been welding. “And who are you, child?”
“I need to see Lucy Ann.”
Lucy Ann sat up. No way. No fucking way was this happening.
“I don’t know who that-”
“Yes you do, I know you do!”
“Child-”
“I need to see her right now.” Xiaofan’s face popped out behind Šikkû. “Yeah, she’s sitting in your living room- Lucy Ann! Lucy Ann!”
“No fucking way,” Lucy Ann breathed.
Šikkû moved to block her. “You need to leave, child.”
“I’m not leaving before I talk to her! Lucy Ann!”
“You don’t make that choice.”
“I’m not leaving! Please, she’s the only one I can trust right now!”
And that was another surprise. Only one Xiaofan could trust? What was she talking about?
“Please don’t make me remove you.”
“No, no, come on, my friend is dead! My friend is dead and she’s gonna get away with it all over again! Just let me talk to her! Just let me talk to her!”
Lucy Ann saw Šikkû make a grab for her arm. She hesitated a second more… and then she moved forwards and threw the window open.
“Wait, wait!”
Šikkû turned. Xiaofan immediately surged towards her, but Šikkû held her back. And it really was Xiaofan, dressed in a sweater without so much as a sunhat. “How the hell are you here?” she couldn’t help but ask.
“Demon.” Xiaofan said, curtly. The sweat was slick on her face. “The Organ Duck. I summoned it to tesser me to Samawah.”
“Hang on, hang on, you summoned a demon? After all the shit you gave me for-”
“I don’t care about that anymore! Gemma’s dead, Lucy Ann. Someone murdered her!”
“Yeah, and I didn’t do it.” Lucy Ann’s face hardened. “I’ve been here this whole-”
But Xiaofan was nodding. “Time, I know. She’s making you the scapegoat, just like she did to me. I’m not gonna let her get away with it this time.”
Lucy Ann frowned. She glanced at Šikkû, but her face was impassive.
“Okay,” Lucy Ann spoke slowly. “So if you don’t think I did it, then who did? Who’s ‘she’?”
Xiaofan’s reply came without a second of hesitation.
“Mallory Quicksilver,” her face was grim. “Gemma’s best friend. Dipper’s sister. The crematory owner who used to be friends with Harrison Collins. The person who asked for my address the same night I was framed.”
And through all of that, there was one title Xiaofan didn’t mention, one that sent Lucy Ann’s heart plummeting into her stomach.
Mizar, she thought, and one hand fingered the glove on her other.
Holy shit. This was Noie all over again… no. No, that wasn’t fair to Noie.
