Pale: 9.1 - Lucy
Author: Wildbow

Shaking Hands – 9.1 | Pale

Lucy’s body felt like a lead weight as she pulled her head off of her pillow and her upper body up from the bed.  That heaviness wasn’t the problem.  She was tired from… from everything, more tired because it was-

The clock flashed 0:00.  She must have mucked it up while getting everything sorted out and put away.  The dull red light lit up her room on and off, illuminating the album art and posters she’d plastered one half of her room with.  An awful lot of skulls and demons and things there, mixed in with faces being dissolved into abstract images, landscapes, and city shots.  Different images stood out when the clock flashed than when the room was lit by the lights outside the window only.

She crept out of her room, unsure of the time, and passed by Booker’s room.  She was so used to seeing it neatly made and empty that it was disconcerting to see it messy again, strewn with Alyssa’s clothing and stuff.

It was hot from the summer, and the house smelled faintly like something had burned, and she wasn’t sure what it was.  Had a stove burner been left on?

The chicken larb.  It had been overcooked.  It had felt like she was floundering, heavy with fatigue and sleepless with no solid ground to stand on, but finding that fact to anchor to helped.

She made her way down the stairs, crossed the hall, and stopped.  Her mom was sitting on the couch, rigid, hands together with fingers hooked, fingertips digging into the sides of other fingers, until it was all a jumble.  And her eyes-

That look as she saw Lucy.  Lucy could see the tracks of tears on her mom’s face from the fleeting light outside.

“Mom?” Lucy asked, crossing the front hallway.  Crossing the living room.

Her mom pulled her into a hug, and those fingers that had been hooked into one another hooked into Lucy, tight and violent and so unlike her mom it caught her off guard.

The sound of her mom’s voice was so like her mom that it pulled her right back.  “It’s Booker.”

And the words themselves, their implication, cast away everything.

She’d been pulled in so quickly and so tight that she couldn’t even brace herself properly against the couch or sit on it, and it was all she could do not to fall on top of her mom.  She remained there, paralyzed and awkward.

Her mother’s voice wasn’t quiet, but it was still whisper-thin with emotion in Lucy’s ear.  “I talked to the police just before you came down, they explained-”

There was only the too-slow thud of her own heart.

“The car rolled,” her mother told her.  “They said it would have been instant-”

Lucy fell on top of her mom on hearing that, her own fingers digging in, now, face buried in her mother’s shoulder.  No air in her lungs.

Her mom’s words came in a tumble.  “They were out drinking with their friends, his friends told me Alyssa drove, she-”

“Did she drive drunk?” Lucy asked.  She tried to pull away, struggling against the tight hug.  “Mom.  Did she-”

“No, Lucy.  But the other driver did.”

Her mom pulled her in for a tight hug, and she let her.

Unreasonable thoughts were stampeding through her head.  That this wasn’t a teenager thing to do, hugging her mom like this.  But Booker was gone?  That fast, that suddenly?

The air went out of her lungs again, and she’d barely recovered any.

Was there a fix?  A way to change this?  A way to-

Was there an enemy?  She wanted there to be an enemy.  She wanted to not have to think about- about if she’d made him stay, or if she’d….

She pulled her head back and away.

“They said it’s been a problem this summer.  Crime, drunk driving, people getting away scott-free.  If they’d just-”

If we’d just… if they’d gotten on top of this situation instead of leaving, if they’d been ready, if they’d stopped this situation from coming up…

Her mom was condemning her.

She wanted to hug her mom, her mom was trying to pull her back in for a hug.

And she had no right to.  The intermittent red light illuminated the tear-tracks on her mother’s face, their absence let Lucy see the concern in her mom’s eyes.

“You said the police just called, but you talked to Booker’s friends?”

“Dinnae gang’n do tha’!  Stop!”

Lucy turned, her face streaked with tears.

“Ye’ll wake yerself up, ye tit!”

Alpeana came down the stairs as a tumble of dark hair, matted and flecked with fingernail clippings and teeth.

That dark hair flowed in after her, filling the stairwell, then the hallway, and then the living room.

Then it was just them in darkness.  Floating, no solid ground at all, no gravity, only darkness and them.  Lucy had to use her Sight to see.  Ironic that she felt more grounded now than she had moments ago.

But her heart, pounding in her chest, still reeled.  Her face was still wet.

The Nightmare drifted in a complete circle around her, hair billowing and floating around her, merging into the darkness around them.

“Ah’m sorry, lassie.”

“Did you make that nightmare for me?”

“Why would you show me that?  Why would you do this to me!?” Lucy raised her voice.

“Hold on thar.  If ye get tae crabbit ye’ll wake yerself up.”

“Why would you show me that!?” Lucy raised her voice more.  It broke.

“Ah wanted tae talk.”

Lucy made a small sound, drawing knees to chest.

“I am sorry.  Thar’s no good way tae talk, otherwise.”

“Verona said you showed her something but she refused to tell me what it was.”

“Aye.  Pullin’ her intae maself.  But that’s that an’ ah’m wantin’ a talk, Lucy.”

“She said she didn’t want to help it come true.”

“It micht, it can.  Thir’s often a scrap o’truth at th’ root of it.”

“Do these nightmares come true?”

“Aye, they can.  They micht not, either.  I cannae say this is tha sort tha turns out ta happen,”  Alpeana reassured.  Lucy wasn’t catching all the words, but the tone was soothing, even if nothing else was.  Alpeana spoke once again, “Now ye’re waking up, it’s hard tae hold ye under, ah’m sworn not to harm ye, an’ tryin’ tests that.”

“That nightmare hurt.”

“It ain’t a real hurt, Luce.”

“Ah’ll get ta it then.  Ah’ve a message far ye three, lassie, had ta fly it under tha radar.  Did it while ah’m working, jus’ in case.  Ye’re tha easiest t’reach, so I’ll tell ye.  Ye’ll need tae be wary.”

“Ah’m not one for tha politics, lassie.  But ah’m seeing tha need.  Tha dreamscape is changin, thar’s more trouble in yer world, more crime, an’ Lucy…”

The tone of those words, as she said her name-  Lucy met her eyes.

Alpeana strained to make her words clear, suppressing her accent, “…I’m fairly sure that the one who killed the beast ain’t going to be putting it right when they take its seat.”

“Scares me,” Alpeana said.

“What do you want me to do about it?” Lucy asked.  She winced.  “I didn’t mean that to sound like I wouldn’t do anything, I just don’t know what you expect me to do different.”

“Rook says that tha original Kennet Others, they’re dangerous, tha co-conspirators haf too much power.  An’ the new ones, I can tell ye, none trust ye yet.  Especially now ye’ve been at tha school.  Tha ones tha’ act like they trust ye are the ones to watch for.”

“Ye’re wakin’.  Rook says, aye.  Asked if I would reach out to ye three since I know ye.  She’s seen this before.  She says ye’ll want to protect yer families.  Not now but soon.  The ones who did away with the Carmine Beast will want you distracted and that’s the best way.”

“And how do we trust her?”

A feeling of falling swept over her, pulling her through that dark cloud she occupied with Alpeana.  Cutting off Alpeana’s response.

Lucy sat up in bed, heart pounding.

She took a second, wiped the tears from her cheeks, then looked down at her pillow, where more had dampened it.  She flipped it over.

She got out of bed, crept down the hall, and peeked through her brother’s bedroom door, quiet as she could.

He slept there, one arm around Alyssa.

She eased the door closed.

Down the hall, to check on her mom.  Her mom was fine, and half-awake, raising a hand.  Pointing at Lucy, then making an ‘ok’ sign.

“Better now,” Lucy whispered into the darkness.

She went to the bathroom, washed her face clean, then went back to bed, where she lay on her side.

She watched the clock tick its slow way to six in the morning, and then sleep found its way back to her.  A gentler dream.

“Honey, I hate to break it to you…”

Lucy moaned, stretched out over the counter in the middle of the kitchen, face close to the surface, arms out as far as they would go.

“…But you don’t want this to be the way your summer is.”

“I would love it if this was the worst part of my summer,” Lucy protested.

“We could go shopping.”

Her mom sighed.  “Lunch soon.”

“What are we having?”

“After this breakfast?” her mom asked, checking the box of pastries they’d bought last night.  Turnovers and danishes and other things.  “Something healthy.”

Her mom paused, giving Lucy a look.

“What?” Lucy asked, looking up, without lifting herself off the counter.

“I thought that would get me another moan.”

“So long as it’s normal food.”

“Maybe that school wasn’t so bad after all.  Want to help?”

“What’s this about?” Booker asked, as he ventured into the kitchen.

“You’re up!” mom exclaimed.  “Almost noon.”

“Ahhh, volume,” he winced.

“I figured that was why you were so slow to start with the day.  I hope you drank water,” mom said.

“Not enough,” he said.  “I forgot how intense some of those guys get.”

He reached down to where Lucy reached across the counter.  She tried to trap his hand under hers, while he did the same.  He was slow to move, and when her hand came down a little hard, slapping the counter, he cringed a bit, closing his eyes, and it looked like it took him a couple seconds to recover.

“Is Alyssa downstairs?” mom asked.

“Not yet.  Using the washroom so she’s presentable to the family.”

“Then I can-” Mom interrupted herself by hitting the button on the blender.  It blared to life, loud enough that even Lucy covered her ears.

“-Evil,” Booker said, as the noise faded, the first part of the sentence lost in the noise.

“I did tell you to check in.”

“So that was punishment?”

Mom smiled knowingly but didn’t confirm.  “Sit.  Have some.  It’s the best hangover cure I’ve got, picked it up in nursing school.”

She set down the glass, dark green and full of flecks, then poured another, presumably for Alyssa.

“…Thanks,” Booker said.  “I sorta expected to be yelled at.”

“You’re an adult, you can make your own decisions.  But if this is an every-night thing, then I’m going to be a little less nice about it and a little more concerned.”

“Did you have fun?” Lucy asked.

“Some,” he replied, sitting, drinking.  He reacted to his first sip of the drink the same way he had to the noise of the blender, but he kept drinking.  “The ramp-up to the drinking was nicer than the drinking itself.  Hearing the stories people had to tell, where they were at, bad bosses, good friends, you know?”

“Then the stories ran out before we were a couple hours in.  And they filled the silence with drinking and talking about drinking and… I remember whispering to Alyssa, that could’ve been me.  You’ve gotta- you need to study, get out of here when you can, baby sis.  Don’t get stuck in a place where a year gives you only a couple hours of stories.”

“The last few weeks have felt like ten months have passed.  I think I’m clear of that.  But I’ll try.”

“That’s good,” he said, voice strained by the reaction to the taste of the drink.  “I’m starting to think this is the punishment for not checking in last night.”

“If it was, I wouldn’t have a glass poured for Alyssa.”

“Huh,” he said.  “You know, I’m not sure I should say this in front of mom…”

Mom looked over her shoulder, eyebrow arched.

“…Last night, I dreamed my way through the longest, most intense drunk driving PSA ever.”

“Huh,” Lucy commented.

“And the weird thing?  So did Alyssa.”

“Do I need to worry?” mom asked.

“I was good, mom.  Really.  Got a cab.”

Thanks, Alpeana, Lucy thought.

“I dreamed something like that too,” Lucy said.  “Sucked.”

“I remember you were up in the middle of the night,” mom said.

“Yep, nightmare,” Lucy said.

Her mother rubbed her back for a second as she passed by.  She leaned into Booker as she thought Lucy wasn’t looking, and whispered.

“Your sister wants to spend some time with you.  She was waiting for you half the morning.  Maybe spend some time with her before she explodes from anticipation?“

“Boom,” Lucy commented, stretching.

“You’ve got some good ears there, Lucy,” Booker said, looking surprised.

“I’m exceptional in some ways.”

“You’re exceptional in a lot of ways.  What would you want to do, Lucy?  That’s quiet, gentle, no bright lights, curtains drawn…”

“Curtains drawn?  Horror movie marathon?”

“Did you miss the entire rest of that sentence?”

Alyssa entered the kitchen, hair wet.  “What’s this?”

“Making plans for the day,” Booker told her.  “Spend some time with my sister?”

Lucy warred with instinct and won.  She reached for the box of breakfast pastries and slid it over Alyssa’s direction.  “We got some blueberry stuff because you told Mom it was your favorite.  It’s my favorite too and it’s taken a lot of willpower not to scarf it down.”

“I’m not sure I have it in me to eat anything sweet right now,” Alyssa said.

“And we’re eating lunch soon,” Mom commented, bustling about the kitchen.

Mom seemed happy, Lucy noted.  That was nice.

Alyssa leaned into Booker and asked Lucy, “Do I get more points if I respect the willpower by eating it and enjoying it, or if I let you have it?”

“Either-or.  I’ll give you the points anyway, since you asked.”

“Have it.  There’s too much of a chance I wouldn’t enjoy it, with this hangover.”

“Mmm, try enjoying this, then,” Booker said, sliding the glass her way.

Lucy took a bite of the blueberry danish, earning her a look from her mom.

They stood in the parking lot, framed by the various fast food places, post office, and a printing business that looked like it was barely surviving.

“What did you end up doing?” Avery asked.

“Went for a walk in the woods.  Quiet, slow, in the shade.  Talked about his school.  My stuff with Mr. Bader.”

“That sounds nice,” Verona said.

“What about you guys?”

“Babysit the entire day,” Avery said.  “Welcome home.  Here’s a child who may, according to Sheridan, resemble a chihuahua in a six year old’s body.”

“Love that,” Verona said, smiling.

“And you?” Lucy asked.

“Holed up in my room and did magic prep stuff, my dad left halfway through the day and I did a few chores.  Today was quiet but last night, hoo.”

“Last night?” Lucy asked.  “In your texts you said last night was a good night.”

“Had Jeremy over,” Verona said.

“It was good, it was nice.  We messed around, we might do it again.”

“Huh,” Avery said, glancing at Lucy.

“Poor Jeremy,” Lucy said.

“He’s okay.  No hearts broken, boundaries were laid out on both sides,” Verona said.

“No hearts broken yet.”

“Oh boy,” Lucy replied, turning away to scan their surroundings.

A group of teenagers were hanging out outside the little pharmacy, holding sodas and chips.  At the opposite end, there was a play structure shared by two different fast food places, and it was dinky and not in the best shape, but there were a ton of kids there.  It looked like a summer camp or something, with counselors trying and failing to herd their charges.  It didn’t help that some of the counselors were hanging back, looking bored, while the ones who seemed to care were losing their minds from stress.

Then there were the grazers.  Lucy didn’t know a better way of thinking about them.  The moms and occasional dad who hung out in the parking lot or in the coffee shops, shooting the shit for hours.

“Any idea?” Lucy asked.

“It’s like those ‘find the monkey’ children’s books but the monkey is a human,” Verona said.

Avery shook her head.  “I think we have to wait.”

“Alpeana reached out to me last night,” Lucy told the others.

“Aww, you first?” Verona asked.  “Bias.”

“We’ll want to keep an eye out, according to her.  Protect our families.”

“Creepy,” Avery commented.

“Yeah.  Creepy’s a mild way of putting it.  I hate that it’s a thing.”

“Want to set up wards then?” Verona asked.  “Your place first, Lucy, then Avery’s?”

“Then yours?” Lucy prodded.

Avery frowned.  “We gotta set up the wards in a way that escapes the notice of people ranging from six to… however old my Grumble is.”

“And that works against a variety of Others,” Lucy added.

Camp counselors were now trying to herd kids onto a half-length school bus.  As the three of them stood in the middle of the parking lot, Lucy with her hands in the pockets of her skirt, her backpack sitting by her feet, one kid refused to board the bus.  A boy, covered in wood chips, hair tousled.

The door closed.  The bus did a u-turn and pulled away.

It passed the kid, and when it did, the boy disappeared.  A thirteen year old girl stood at the edge of the playground, a backpack slung over one shoulder.

“This is so weird,” Verona said, as the girl -Lis- perked up, then started running over.

The girl had light brown skin, red-brown hair with a faint wave to it, that extended halfway down her neck, and a smattering of freckles.  She wore a dark red V-neck top with a yellow symbol on the pocket, and denim shorts.

“Heyy!” she greeted them, as she reached them.

“Find anything interesting?” Verona asked.

“Nope.  Today was a boring day, so I played on the slide and I annoyed people by getting, uhhhh…” Lis narrowed her eyes, peering across the parking lot.  “That old guy with the beard, if you get him talking about healthcare he will go on forever.  But he’s old so he sits at the center table, and everyone else pays attention to that table.  The ex-mayor is there.  Got him to change topics five times, seeing how many people decided to go home.”

“Flushing out the regulars, seeing who stands out.  Don’t worry, it’s not that mean-spirited.  I’m focused on the mission.  Helping out.  Are we going to the meeting?”

“Yeah,” Lucy said.  “Is the perimeter going to be okay?”

“No idea.  But Matthew says we should do the big meeting.  Almost everyone will be there.”

“Huh, do you want to walk?” Avery asked.

“Since you asked nicely,” Lis replied, sticking her elbow out.  She waited, then frowned, reaching over, and making Avery link arms with her.

“Have you talked to Crooked Rook much?” Verona asked.

“Some.  She’s cool,” Lis replied.  “Scary.”

“Scary how?” Lucy asked.

“Scary like… I saw her trap an Other.  Bogeyman, strapped to a spiked wheel.  Had a bunch of spirits with her, and they dove into the trap.  A wind elemental too, I think.  Adjusted the box, rotated parts of it.  She asked for reinforcements in case it came out fighting.  I was there, so were goblins.  Trap opens, and the Other isn’t strapped to the wheel anymore.  No spikes.  Looked happier, balancing on the wheel, cavorting around like a circus performer.  Then she bent down, picked up a corroded iron spike that had been stuck in the ground, and put it in her belt.  For the next time.”

“She changes them, fundamentally?” Verona asked.

“Took the abyss out of it, put in some wind and spirit.  Like it was easy.”

“I wonder,” Lucy mused.  “If-”

“If she asked for the reinforcements not because she needed them, but because she wanted to show us?” Lis interrupted.

“I thought that too, at first.  But the more time I spend with her, the more I think she’s not… not a schemer.  She doesn’t lie while telling the truth or pull tricks like a Fae does.  That doesn’t mean she doesn’t like sneak attacks, she does.  But she’s a tactician.”

“More overt?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah.  She doesn’t leave you wondering, I think.  It’s about where, when, and how she makes her moves.”

“Food for thought,” Lucy said.  “Thanks.”

“I’ve really been looking forward to you guys showing up.  The Others are great, they’re neat, learning about the town and the ins-and-outs of this place, that’s been super great.  Thing is, I’m derived from people and I operate off of people.  Sometimes you just want to talk about movies, or hockey.”

“You like hockey?” Avery asked.

“It’s alright.  I feel like it’s better for going to watch than anything.”

“Yep,” Verona agreed.

“Not that I have a lot of time,” Lis said.  “Trying to do my part, earn my stripes.  Earn my place in the group.”

Lucy nodded, but she didn’t really engage.

“Oh, check this out!” Lis said.  She pulled her bag off, unzipped it, and then reached inside.  She pulled out a wooden mask.  Grey, carved, of a rabbit.  “Interesting, huh?  I’ve got a hat and cloak in here too.”

“A rabbit?” Avery asked.

“Right?  I think, uh, it’s bouncy and it’s prey animal, like a deer, that’s one commonality, and it’s a trickster animal in folklore like a fox, and it’s an animal associated with magic, like a cat.”

“It makes so much sense I don’t know why I didn’t expect it,” Verona replied.

“Right?  Yeah, I thought it was cool,” Lis said, hugging the mask to her chest, unzipped bag still slung over her shoulder.

They walked out of downtown, toward the residential area.  It was the same path they took on their way back from grabbing lunch, if they ever left school to run to the store.

Conversation had died, and Lucy wasn’t sure what was running through Verona and Avery’s heads, but she couldn’t help but recollect that Alpeana had warned her that the ones who act like they trusted Lucy and her friends were the ones to watch for.

“I’m the odd one out,” Lis said.  “I feel it, you can guess why.  I hope I can earn your trust and that we can be cool.  I’m just trying to figure out where I’m at, while suspicion is flying around, I think everyone’s on edge waiting to see how things settle here.  Who stays, who leaves, what happens…”

“What do you hope happens?” Lucy asked.

“I hope that what I’m doing in the here and now, meeting cool new Others, exploring this town, I hope it matters.  Like, I want to stick around for a good long time, if I’m allowed, so I’m really exploring this place, figuring out the people.  It’s the first time things have been good after a lot of anxiety.”

“You kind of caught us at a bad time,” Avery said.  “We just got back from the school and that wasn’t super great.”

“I’m getting everyone at bad times, feels like,” Lis said.  “Sucks.”

“Maybe tell us about the Others?” Verona asked.  “The new ones?”

“What do you want to know?  Who about?”

“I don’t know Cig much.  He doesn’t talk, you know, and we do similar types of shift.  Watching people come in.  So we don’t interact much.”

“Doesn’t that mean you’d interact more?” Avery asked.

“Not really.  If I’m at the west end he’s at the north and the other way around.  If I have something to do he’ll cover me, and same for the other way around.”

“And you don’t sleep?” Verona asked.

“Not as long as I make myself part of a group of awake people.  The pickings can get pretty slim, though.  But we’re talking about Cig… I keep getting sidetracked.  Wonder why?”  Lis smiled, finger pointing at the three of them in turn.

“Funny,” Verona said, but she did look like she thought it was funny.

“He’s cool.  More passive than even me.”

“What about Jabber?” Avery asked.

“Don’t see much of him.  I think he’s out and about today.  They’re trying to find the Others who snuck in while they asked the judges to let Ken pass the threshold.  If we’re lucky we won’t see him.”

“If we’re lucky we won’t?” Verona cut in.

“But is he like, happy, does he have a personality?” Avery saked.

“Terminal happiness in a lumpy little body and sure, for a certain definition of personality.  It’s the sort of thing you have to see to get.  Who else?”

“I think he’s doing the work to get a feel for if anyone slips into Kennet while we’re meeting.  So I wouldn’t expect him to talk much if he’s concentrating.  I hang with him some.  Next best thing to some human contact with humans I don’t have to hide my real nature from.”

“If you can get along with the personification of Kennet then I guess you can get by here, long-term, right?” Avery asked.

“You’d think.  I hope so.  It’s really hard to know because things have been so over the top.”

“I’m actually more interested in that than in the local Others, who we’re about to meet,” Lucy said.

“Wuh, no,” Verona protested.  Lucy gave Verona a light push on the arm.

“The longer things stay like this, the more stuff rolls… downhill, I guess,” Lis explained.  “It’s like as far as violence and trouble are concerned, in this whole area the Carmine Beast used to manage, the easiest roads to travel are the ones that take them here.  And people are noticing.  Practitioners trying to stop things, and ones trying to catch them so they can use them.  Witch hunters.”

“Witch hunters?” Avery asked.

“They tend to operate in groups, because one witch hunter can rescue another from… whatever catches them.  A binding, entrancement, possession.  And there are two groups who are interested.  That’s the big thing Cig and I are looking out for.  One of them got close and Maricica revealed herself to them, did her best to lead them away.  Her coming back is going to be the first time in more than a day that she comes back.  And we’re all hoping the witch hunters keep following the trail she led them onto.”

“No guarantees?” Lucy asked.

“Not with witch hunters.  They tend to have tricks and things.  Either by accident and luck or because they went and looked for them.  A lot of them are Aware with special qualities, others are really organized.  Pretty much all of them are really dangerous.  They go looking for trouble and right now trouble is concentrating in one place.”

“You have experience dealing with witch hunters, don’t you?” Lucy asked.

“I wondered if you’d bring that up.  Matthew asked permission to share that detail and I told him.  Yeah.  I was a different person then.”

“By definition?” Lucy asked.

“Yeah.  And intrinsically.  For now I’m trying to be a part of the team.”

“By definition,” Lucy said.

“Of the Kennet team.  The other day I saw some guys unloading luggage in the middle of the day, at the motel.  Heavy bags.  And I thought, isn’t that weird?”

“Was it?” Avery asked.

“They weren’t witch hunters, but they were practitioners.  Immediately started setting up this really old looking chemistry set.”

“Maybe.  Could be enchanters or something.  I told Matthew and Edith, they sent in Jabber, just before sundown, tons of people around.  Jabber gave cover for goblins to go charging in, we sent more in the back way.  While the practitioners were distracted, the goblins in the building trashed and stole their stuff.”

“Did they keep any?” Verona asked.

“I don’t know.  Probably.  You’d have to ask Toadswallow.”

“And the practitioners?” Lucy asked.

“Seemed pretty unnerved by Jabber, really.  They left and we haven’t heard anything since.  We’re hoping they think Kennet is one of those towns that’s just run down enough that Others have the run of the place.  That doesn’t tend to warrant much attention, unless it’s from specific types.”

“Hm,” Lucy made a nonspecific sound.  “Not sure how I feel about that.”

“Come on, this way!” Lis said.

They weren’t far from Matthew and Edith’s place, now.

“Did Snowdrop come?” Lis asked.

“She’s sleeping in my bag.  The goblins kept her out late.”

“That kind of night, huh?” Lucy asked.

“I guess it’s about time we wake her up, if we want her alert,” Avery said.  She enlisted Lucy’s help in getting her bag off and holding it, and then unzipped it the rest of the way.

Lis reached over, and Snowdrop startled awake.  Immediately, the opossum began to hiss, raising her paws and scratching at the air.

“I’ve heard that opossums might hiss but they very rarely bite.”

“Snowdrop’s not your usual opossum,” Avery said.  “Might be best not to test it.”

“Yeah, okay,” Lis said, frowning.  She looked really down, in the aftermath, and Lucy had no idea how to read that.

“Want to walk, Snow?” Avery asked.

Snowdrop buried her face in Avery’s shirt.

“You’re really spoiled.”

Matthew’s truck rolled down the street as they arrived, which was a strangely common occurrence.  He waved as he passed them, parked close to the house, opened the garage remotely, and then drove the pickup in.  Doors opened, and Lucy could see the two twenty-somethings emerging, one with a jacket pulled over her head.

He ducked under the closing garage door.  He looked like he’d aged a year or two since they’d seen him last.  He was normally pretty warm, inoffensive, an approachable guy with an easy smile, and a little bit of that had worn away.

“Welcome back,” he greeted them.

“Here we are,” Lucy replied.

“All quiet, north of downtown.”

“Bonding?” he asked, indicating the mask.

“I don’t think we count as bonded until Snowdrop accepts me,” Lis said.

“I think you just surprised her.  Right, Snowdrop?” Avery asked.

Snowdrop became human, dropping into a crouch.  She frowned.  “No, wasn’t surprised.”

“That’s a relief,” Lis said, her forehead creasing with concern.

“Why don’t you go inside, I think almost everyone’s here.  Goblins are taking their time escorting Jabber.”

“You put Jabber and the goblins together?” Lis asked, already most of the way to the front door by the time he finished talking.

“I don’t know, Lis.  There’s only so many people who I’d call responsible, here, and we loaded ourselves down with sponsorships.”

“I’m not sure I’d call myself responsible, pulling that, Matthew.”

“They’re the good- or mostly better goblins!” he called out.

She’d already disappeared inside.

“Hands full?” Lucy asked.

“Like you wouldn’t believe.  I’ve got to go sort out Montague.  Come on in, we’re set up inside this time.”

Lucy hung back, touching Verona and Avery’s arms.  Snowdrop remained because she stuck close to Avery.

“What was that?” Lucy asked Snowdrop.  “More than surprise.”

“Feels like Avery but isn’t.  Feels like you but isn’t.  Feels like Verona, but isn’t,” Snowdrop said, dropping her head closer to her shoulders.

“I think that’s just what she is, Snowdrop,” Verona said.

“Doesn’t feel off or anything.”

“Good to know, I guess,” Avery said, frowning.

They jogged ahead to shorten that wait.

Inside, the lights were off.  Curtains were drawn, and the Others were assembled in the living room.

Matthew and Edith’s house was very much them, and they were candleflame and doom.  Solid dark furniture, paintings with orange imagery, decorations that included a lot of unlit candles, and a prominent brick-laid fireplace defined the space.

The usual suspects were all present: Matthew stood by Edith’s chair, setting a radio down on top of the television in the corner.  Edith sat in an armchair, an ashtray resting by her hand, cigarette smouldering.

The Faerie were on either side of them, Guilherme in boy form beside Matthew, watching the radio bleed, John Stiles beside Guilherme, arms folded, watching things unfold, nodding as he made eye contact with Lucy.

Maricica stood by Edith, poised and wrapped in transparent moth wings.  A woman dressed in a plaid dress, 30-something and tired, leaned in to whisper to Maricica.  Lis.  Charles stood in one corner, to Edith’s right, and Alpeana sat on the ground by them, looking up, looking over at the three of them.

Lucy gave Alpeana a nod, wanting to acknowledge what she’d done for Booker, without giving away that Alpeana had reached out.

Alpeana nodded back, her expression remaining serious.

The goblins sat in front of them all, except the difference now was that there were a lot of goblins.  Lucy could remember when there had been only the four.  Now it was Toadswallow, Bluntmunch, and Gashwad, followed by Nat, Butty, Doglick, and a half-dozen more.

More, Lucy saw, were pushing a ventilation grate aside by the fireplace and crawling out, between the legs of Matthew’s chair.  Bluntmunch clapped a heavy, calloused hand on a female goblin’s pale-haired head.  Some scrambled to the back door, opening it.

Jabber came in, Cherrypop following and laughing.  He was three feet tall, thin, with an oversized head, his body pale to the point of being off-white, and undefined by nipple, by bellybutton, or other real features.  There was staining in the recesses, like mold, which seemed to have gone straight to near-black or black, and this same staining filled empty eye sockets, the rough triangle of the hole where the nose should be, and the inside of the very wide mouth that would have been ear to ear, if he had ears.  That same mouth was lined with blunt teeth that didn’t look like they’d been set in with any care or organization.  The various details of the face were hidden behind a plate-shaped mask that had holes cut out for the eyes, just a bit bigger than the too-round eye sockets, a triangular hole for the nose, just a bit bigger than that indentation, and a jack-o-lantern semicircle hole for the mouth, which only really lined up if his mouth was open, which was sometimes.

The plate was held in place by a ring of metal with screws extending between it and his head, another band encircled the jaw, reinforcing it.  He had a bar at the neck, three bars at one upper arm, and a kind of stiff rubber glove over one hand.  No pants, no genitals, just an askew pelvis that sat perpetually thrust forward.

And he gabbled, with volume varying.  It made no sense and barely resembled speech, rattled off without the experimentation of a baby’s babbling.  His right knee and left ankle didn’t fully articulate, so he stomped with virtually every step, sticking a leg out and then swinging it down.

“Gallaballaualgugh!” Jabber announced, in a voice like it came from a bit too far away from a microphone, put through a speaker at the bottom of a well.  Stomp stomp stomp.  “Baraulla hulla!  Ruggamuggabulla!”

Cherrypop laughed so hard she could barely walk.

Lucy took in a deep breath, sighing.

The ghouls were sitting on the very end of the couch, by goblins and by John.  They looked twenty-something, underweight, and their eyes caught the light from the door to the backyard and made that light paler and foggier.  Chloe lounged, her head resting against the hip of the guy who sat on the armrest, his arms wrapped around her shoulders like he was holding her back as much as he was holding her.  He’d be Nibble.  Her eyes didn’t even focus on Lucy, Verona, and Avery.

Nibble was skinny, dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, shorts, and beanie hat with bits of greasy black hair sticking out, and Chloe wore an unseasonal sweater and knee-length dress, her feet bare and dirty.  Her hair had been pulled back into a messy ponytail, and the state of the ponytail made Lucy think it was her boyfriend who’d done it for her, when he hadn’t done a lot of ponytails.  Her demeanor didn’t suggest she did a lot of that stuff on her own, either.  As if Chloe was a little bit… gone.

Nibble did a good job of hiding that his fingertips were abnormal, flesh calcified in a way that made it hard to tell where the finger ended and the nail started.  His teeth were similar, only visible for a fraction of a second as he bent down to say something to Chloe.  Ridged, pointed, but the line between one tooth and the next was hard to make out.

“The practitioners of this town are here.“

Chloe, by contrast to Nibble, didn’t do a good job of hiding teeth that were meant for tearing dead flesh, more pronounced and jagged than his, with one lower tooth bearing a fork that made it look like another tooth had grown out of it.  And she didn’t really hide the claws of her fingertips and toes, either, or the exaggerated, edge-heavy points that marked the joints of her hands and feet, turning rounded knuckles into pale, bony points that jutted back.  The only masking of the fingers and toes that she did was in pulling one foot back and out of the way of the light that came in through the open back door, toes curling.

Her reaction to his voice was delayed and listless.  She turned her head and eyes to look at the three of them, but didn’t so much as twist a muscle otherwise.

Lucy looked, and saw that the radio had bled into the television, which now churned, the picture flickering, showing red-and-black television static, barely visible in the current light, with the television being as old as it was, and some images of men in suits, nodding, bowing, offering hands, all distorted, a bit macabre.  None had faces, only red smears where their heads should be.

“Tashlit, Ken?  Can you get the door?” Matthew called out.  “And the curtains?”

Tashlit and Ken came in from the kitchen.  Tashlit carried a glass of water in the loose skin of her hands, in what Lucy deemed a very precarious hold.  And even with that, Ken held back, letting her put down the glass and handle the door instead of reaching back to do it himself.

Lucy held back from commenting on that.  They’d heard he needed to concentrate, because he was the only one watching the perimeter.

“Thanks,” Matthew said.

Edith snapped her fingers, and candles around the room lit up.  Chloe, sitting on the couch, flinched, started to rise, and was pulled back down by Nibble.  Chloe’s expression settled into a scowl.

Tashlit used one hand to hold the glass against her upper body -she was wearing a teal top with a pink symbol on it- and offered her hand in a fist-bump to Lucy, because Lucy was closest, then Avery, then Snowdrop, then high-fived Verona.  She seated herself at the end of the couch closest to them, opposite the ghouls.

Ken navigated around to stand behind Matthew and Edith’s chairs, by the fireplace.

“First things first,” Matthew announced, as he settled.

“First things first is I’m not the weakest anymore!” Cherrypop declared.  Jabber followed her statement with a couple syllables of nonsense.  “I helped!”

She marched her way over to where the rest of the goblins were, focused her full attention on the littlest goblin with one eye and a shallow beak of a mouth framed by nostrils, and shoved him over, hard, onto his ass.

He sat there, clearly hurt, and looked up at her.  Affronted.

“Bahahaha!” Cherrypop cheered, fists in the air.

“Don’t be an asshole, Cherry,” Verona told the goblin.

The little one-eyed goblin rose to his feet, rubbing his rear end.

Then he tackled Cherrypop.

“No!  No!  I’m not the weakest anymore!  You’re not allowed to-”

“I’m guessing this is going to be a long night,” Matthew told Edith.

“Girls,” Edith said, while the goblins fought.  Chloe reached out one claw, groping in their general direction with fingertips like knifeblades.

“Heya,” Avery replied.

“I’m sorry the school ended up getting so ugly.  I’m glad you’re with us in one piece.”

“So are we,” Verona said.

“I’m glad Kennet’s still okay,” Lucy added.  “I get the impression it hasn’t been easy.”

“It’s going to get harder.  Which is part of what we’re talking about tonight.”

The mute little one-eyed goblin rose to his feet, standing on Cherrypop, who lay on her stomach, wailing.  He pumped his fists into the air.

“Cherrypop,” Matthew said.  “That’s enough for tonight.  You can continue this feud another night.”

“You’ll do as he says,” Toadswallow warned.  “You’re my apprentice, and you’ve been lax with the rules about swearing.”

“Do as he says.  We’ll let it slide.”

“I can’t- I’m not going to be the weakest anymore!  Not after tonight!  I’ve gotta- go away!  I can’t fight you anymore!”  She pushed at the one-eyed one.

Glancing back at the other goblins, getting some nods, he stepped off of Cherrypop.

She sprang to her feet, and she scrambled up the side of Edith’s armchair and tackled the ashtray, knocking it to the floor.

“What the f-” Matthew stopped himself from saying the full swear word.  “Cherry, stop that, leave him alone!”

“I’m not the weakest, he can’t even fight back!” she screamed the words, wrestling the unremarkable cigarette to the ground.  “Suplex!”

She suplexed the cigarette, rolling around in the scattered ashes, then cackled her victory.

Matthew had to rise, picking up his chair, with John taking hold of it so he could access the space beneath.

Cherrypop shrieked.  Not because of Matthew, but because the suplex had put her face against Cig’s burning end.  She let go and rolled around in the scattered ashes of the ashtray, holding her hands to the burn.

“Did Cherry just lose a fight against an inanimate object?” Avery asked.

Cherry shrieked more as Matthew picked her and Cig up.  He handed Cig to Edith.

“I think Cig wins this one,” Toadswallow declared.

Other goblins acknowledged that with murmurs and nods.  Cherry’s wails grew louder in response, while Matthew carried her into the other room, opened the door with care paid to the curtain, so he wouldn’t let sunlight into the room, and placed her outside.  Cherry pressed her face against the glass there, sobbing, but silenced by the intervening door.  Tiny hands pounded on the surface.

Edith had put the ashtray back, and used the little broom by the fireplace to sweep the ashes aside, with Ken standing out of the way.  John put Matthew’s chair back.

“When we brought you onboard,” Matthew said, before he’d even taken his seat, “We asked for help protecting Kennet.  The plan was for you to investigate, to forestall outside investigators claiming the right to come in and find out everything about Kennet, and maybe do what only practitioners could do to ward off some outside harm.  Simply having the ability for you to claim you were the practitioners of Kennet was a big part of it.”

“But we’ve left a lot of that in the past now.  We didn’t think things would get this bad,” Edith said.

“We swore we’d protect Kennet,” Lucy said.

“You have.  If you don’t give us cause by actively harming Kennet, nobody here will gainsay you in that,” Edith said.

“Or forswear us?” Verona asked.

“It’s not easy to forswear without gainsaying.  No, we will not forswear you unless you act in direct contradiction to your stated role.”

“You want us to stay out of it?” Lucy asked.

“I want to give you the freedom to.  John told us that what happened wasn’t easy.”

Lucy frowned.  Unbidden, not helped by the macabre scene on the television, she thought of Alexander, head cracked open.

“John informed us that Alexander’s dead,” Charles said, from the corner, by that bloody television.  He wasn’t just as far from Chloe as he could be, but he stood with as many people between himself and her as possible.

“Yeah.  Bristow too,” Verona told him.

“I’m sorry you had to have a part in that,” Charles said.  “I knew them a long time ago.  They had their good points, but I could easily see them becoming the types of people John described.”

“Raymond Sunshine wants to meet and talk to you sometime this summer.”

“Not easy, that,” Charles replied.  “Getting away.”

He looked at Matthew as he said it.

“We can make arrangements if you want them.  You’re not a prisoner.”

“But I am condemned.  Me going requires that someone come with, to extend protection, and the person who comes with gives things away, just by being there.”

“We can figure something out,” Edith said.  “If you want to.”

“I want to,” Charles growled.

“Then we’ll figure something out,” she said, voice firm.

“There is some minor business we should have you three attend to, as your firm responsibility,” Matthew addressed them.  “The Aware girl, Melissa, has learned some magic, she’s on a fast road to a fate like Charles’s.”

“Didn’t even offer me a cigarette,” Snowdrop muttered.

“We can look into that,” Verona said.

“I’m trying to figure out what you called this big meeting for,” Lucy spoke up.  “It feels like you’re dancing around the subject of Kennet and our responsibility in it.  You say you want to give us the freedom to back out, but is there a motivation behind that?  Is there a decision you’d rather we make?”

“I think, depending on who you asked in the room, you’d get very different answers,” Matthew said.

It felt, in a way, like it had when they’d done the awakening ritual.

Except that day, Charles had warned them, told them not to say yes, and cautioned them, in a way that really hadn’t sold the argument, that this world was dangerous and hostile.

Now it was the voice in her head that was echoing Charles, reminding her of the trouble out there that existed.  The dangers, the hostility.

“I’m going to be blunt,” Edith said.  “I think you appreciate that.”

“I do,” Lucy replied.

“A lot of the new Others are anxious.  A firm statement would help.  Matthew is offering something of a truce.”

“Do we need one?  We’re on the same team, arent we?” Avery asked.

“A truce,” Edith repeated herself.  “You can stand down, and we can do our best to handle things, but I think what some of the new Others really want is an assurance that if they don’t bother you-”

Jabber cut in with a “Gaaaallllaaaaa!”

“-that you won’t bother them.”

Lucy exchanged looks with the others.

“Weren’t we doing that already?”

Avery’s voice, a whisper.

Verona was unreadable, but she met Lucy’s eyes and shrugged.

“We’ll do what we’ve been doing,” Lucy said.  Verona didn’t act like she’d done the complete opposite of what Verona wanted, so she went on with some confidence.  “We acted against the Choir because they were hurting people.  If you don’t hurt people and you don’t violate your oaths and hurt us, there’s no problem.”

Matthew looked concerned.  “We could reduce your responsibilities, at the least.  You witnessed a murder and that’s not something I wanted to put on your heads.”

“I could’ve told you it was a risk, if you’d listened,” Charles said.  “It’s been too long since you were a proper practitioner, Matthew.”

“I was really never one to begin with.  We can assign blame later.  For right now, things are violent out there, the people and Others coming to Kennet are dangerous.”

“I’d hate to miss out on what’s going on,” Verona said.  “Or miss meeting cool Others-”

She put out a hand and Tashlit high-fived it.

“Or opportunities to learn cool stuff.”

“And,” Lucy said, “I live here.  My family lives here.  I’ve got the ability to change things, I’d hurt much more if they got hurt and I could’ve done something to make all of this better.”

“That’s your stance, then?” Edith asked.  “I’m not objecting, I just want to be clear.”

“It’s our stance,” Avery said.

“We’re holding to what we did before.  I think we’ve put a lot on the line for Kennet-”

“That’s the problem we’re wanting to address,” Matthew said.

“-and we’re not going to stop here, Matthew.  The terms we agreed on seemed to be great for the original Kennet Others when we did the awakening ritual, nobody except Charles really objected, I don’t see why those same terms are objectionable now.”

“Not objectionable, exactly.”

“Leave the citizens alone, live your best lives, we work together to protect this space, keep you guys free of binding… we get taught some cool stuff in return, which help us to do this job better.  Isn’t that ideal?”

It felt like a rock-solid point to argue from.

The response, unspoken, conveyed through spots of restlessness, silence, and the lack of unanimous agreement?  It jarred that feeling from certainty to uncertainty.  Most of the Kennet Others seemed on board, but for many of the new Others, it seemed like they couldn’t wholeheartedly agree.  Why the frig not?

“Okay,” Matthew said, sounding not entirely pleased, himself.  “Let’s move on.”