#caretaker!Lyrem

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 12

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem Nomadus, everything seems to be going well- in fact, their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as perfect as it seems….

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five] [chapter six] [chapter seven] [chapter eight] [chapter nine] [chapter ten] [chapter eleven]

Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror, @livingforthewhump

CW: memory whump, psychological whump, noncon touching (nonsexual), swearing. torture mention, car accident mention

CHAPTER TWELVE: THE FUTURE IS UNCERTAIN

        Store meeting. 8pm tonight. –

        “And, send.” Lyrem muttered to himself, then sighed. He laid his elbow against the countertop, staring mindlessly at his phone and drank the last sip of his coffee before throwing it into the trash bin beside him. The shapeshifter was in the alley, waiting for their cue. All Lyrem needed now, was Arch. A slight flittering sound alerted him to a new text.

        Omw.

        Perfect. Everything was in motion. Everything was going to work out. Arch needed a little more push. Just a slight nudge to keep them interested in working for him. The farther they went, the harder it would be to return to innocence. He couldn’t allow them the chance to turn away. He needed to awaken their memories naturally. He needed them to be lost in their fury. He needed them to take that extra step- he needed them to kill. And who better to help them to do that than-

        The front door flew open in a rage. Lyrem was faced with a version of himself blazoning with passionate anger. His eyes were red, his face was pink. He looked as though…

        “What happened to you?” He asked himself. The other Lyrem wiped a stray unstoppable tear from his face.

        “Oh, you’ll fucking find out!” He shouted. He travelled through the store and directly entered the employee washroom. He remained in there for several minutes before emerging with his face rinsed but still tender. He announced to his other self, still in a fit. “I’m taking the SUV.”

        The present Lyrem raised a brow, then returned to staring at his texts. It wasn’t often that he dared cross himself within a time-stream.

        “Just don’t crash the damn thing.” He hollered, but his future self was already gone through the back.

        -----

        The Labyrinth.

        Arch had only ever heard of it.

        What they knew was simply that it was a place of emptiness. It was a place where nothing existed. A place where suffering, joy, life and death ceased to be. It was also a place that stole you from the world. A step into the depths of the Labyrinth and you’d be forgotten to all. Forgotten to the whole world- except for the very one who had tossed you in. Even on Earth, the Labyrinth would ensure you’d never exist there either- not even in a memory. It wasn’t like simple Latin blood magic. This was a loss to endure forever.

        Now, they saw it, and it was much less impressive than they expected. Lyrem had propped open the back door as Arch held onto the man’s body- or the person they were to assume was the man. But… Arch knew better than to believe everything they heard. They were reminded of the policeman, Grenn, and what he had said a week ago-

        “How does a guy walk away from a car crash with a Bowie stuck in his leg?”

        At the time, it wasn’t as important to know how the man got away, as much as it was important to find him. Lyrem seemed sure that they had found him, but Arch wasn’t so sure- especially not after they leaned into his right leg. There wasn’t anything remotely close to a reaction from him. The knife was buried at lease two inches into his leg, of that, Arch was certain; and no one could heal from that in a week. The Labyrinth wouldn’t be pleasant, certainly, but at least they weren’t about to kill an innocent man.

        “Well?” Lyrem touted, “What are you waiting for?”

        Arch looked up and down the empty alleyway. Usually, Lyrem’s vehicle would be blocking the view of the street from the alley’s entrance, but it wasn’t around tonight. Maybe it was at a mechanics’; maybe Arch would get lucky.

        “Nothing,” they said, dismally. They propped the man up, who was now completely unconscious from a second well-placed blow to the head, and kicked him forward into the darkness.

        Lyrem closed the door after the shapeshifter.

        “I am proud of you, Arch,” he said, but this time, it sounded skeptical. Like he was testing them. He could see the change in their demeanour and he measured what this new version of Arch might mean for him.

        “That wasn’t the man, was it?” They postulated. Lyrem squirmed under their gaze. He nodded apologetically, and gave a half smile.

        “Too clever for your own good,” he praised warmly. Approaching, he clasped his hands together.  “You caught me. That was not the Man- though you certainly put him in his place, didn’t you? The Labyrinth… I would choose death over the Labyrinth a hundred times over if given a choice. Quite diabolical of you to choose the Labyrinth.”

        Arch stepped backward, nearly tripping over their own feet to do so. Lyrem regarded their movement keenly, and furrowed his brows.

        “What’s wrong, Arch?”

        “Nothing,” they mumbled, looking away, towards the door. “What… was he? Why did he look like the man?”

        “Oh,” Lyrem realized. “He is a shapeshifter. Hard beings to find, I will admit but for this particular job, he did just perfect. Well worth the expense I think.”

        Arch squinted their eyes at Lyrem, who was so comfortable with the idea of tossing people away.

        “So, he was like you?” Arch alleged tentatively. “A… a monster?”

         Lyrem stepped forward at the accusation, towering himself over the kid that he regarded so highly. A sharp betrayal stung him in the chest. He had almost forgotten that his future self had visited him to retrieve the SUV. He may finally know exactly what set him off into such a fury.

        “Say that again.”

        Arch stammered and stumbled over their words, their hands finding their way to their pocket where their phone was missing, but the mace, thankfully, remained. Lyrem stopped them with a finger to their lips, resulting in an upsetting silence from Arch.

        “I am not a monster,” he stated. “What I am is a bestower of great gifts. I gave you dominance and power over those who have oppressed you and you would lower me to the tier of a shapeshifter- a monster?”

        Arch was shaking now, unable to move any further away, and too fearful to object to his statements.

        “You promised me your life, your devotion to this work that I do. Arch, if I am truly a monster in your eyes, then you need not fear me any more than the one that stares back at you from a mirror.”

        Lyrem lowered his fingers, and took a deep breath.

        “I will forgive you, Arch. I will forgive you because I care about you, and because you did something very difficult for me today.” Lyrem raised his arm again, setting a hand on their shoulder. “And I suspect you are still trying to remember everything that you and I have done together. So… I apologize if this experience was… rattling.”

        “My…” Arch mumbled, still stricken with a sense of danger that was overwhelming them, reason and all. “My mom… she warned me…”

        The memories were fading… They were fading quickly. But their mom… their mom?... told them… somebody told them not to trust this man. The man with the gem shop. The man who forced them to work late. The man who taught them what power truly was.

        This was the man they feared. And they feared him more than anything else in the world.

        The lid of the mace hit the alleyway’s pavement, rolling into a gutter of the road. The hiss of the spray and the following spewed insults, were enough of a distraction for Arch to run into the street after they had thrown the emptied canister into the old man’s face. The only thing screaming in their mind was the knowledge that they had to return home and not Lyrem’s well chosen words that echoed down to them as he followed them at a slower pace to the sidewalk.

        “YOU UNGRATEFUL WRETCH!”

        Arch flew down the many streets, pushing past the evening street-walkers if needed. Their legs fought them the whole way; still recovering from the bruises from the crash and their back still feeling the panging effects from the whiplash that caused a near-constant aching. For now, they couldn’t care less. They needed to get home. They needed to be safe. They needed…

        For whatever reason, a visual of Hugh Grant and Drew Barrymore popped into their head. There was something about it that was wrong. There was something missing. Someone missing. Who was telling them about that ridiculous movie, again?

        Who would be waiting for them at the house? They thought.

        Maleficent. That stupid cat.

        People lived with other people though, didn’t they? Families. They realized. That was what it was called. They had one of those. Human families. Siblings and grandparents and fathers and…

        They reached the end of their block, their own face worn from the fears of that night and exhausted from everything that had been revealed to them. They weren’t a monster… They couldn’t be.

        They were Arch. They were a stupid high school student who had a part-time job. They had friends... they had little hobbies… they failed Spanish class.

        They also tortured Kyle. They flayed his skin so that Lyrem could dry them and use them as paper for certain macabre spell work.

        The more they ran with the knowledge of what they had done and who they had hurt, the harder it was to continue… the easier it was to give up. Their knees buckled, hitting the sidewalk pavement with force. Out of breath, and feeling nauseous, Arch’s forehead met the hot ground next; their arms and hands curled around their head as they threatened to pull their own hair out as a means of distraction from their horrible reality.

        “There you are…”

        Arch gulped, and merely wept, soaking the sidewalk in a small spot where their face was supported only by their forearms. They felt a firm grasp pulling them up by the elbow, and they succumbed to its demands. Their knees were torn into by stray pebbles, tossed on from the boulevards- some were still small enough to remain stuck beneath their there, leaving specks of red across their skin.

        “Wh-where…” Arch started to say- though they didn’t entirely know what they were trying to ask as a fog of grief and anger and fear poured over them. “Where’s… my…”

        It was exhausting, trying to remember exactly what was so wrong- why they couldn’t stand to be around Lyrem right now- and despite their best efforts to pull away, he dutifully remained by their side as they walked the rest of the street together. Slowly they arrived at the front door of the house.  

         Maleficent sat there at the top of the porch, waiting; her blue eyes peering judgmentally at the kid as they found their way up the stairs. A long grey tail swept from side to side lazily, then she proceeded to lick herself.

        Lyrem closed them into the house; the scent of burning paper filling it. He had lit a small fire in the living room and stacked several small Rubbermaid containers beside it- one of which, sitting on the raised slate hearth was half empty.

        The futon was roughly shoved back into the form of a couch. Bags of clothing in multiple colours remained by the door, as well as a stack of math and chemistry texts with haphazardly strewn loose-leaf papers.

        He sat Arch down on the futon as he laid a hand on their back. Gently, he caressed them and pulled a warm fleece throw over their lap. Arch curled into it, and watched the fire burn, engulfing the last memories of the people they thought of as family. Lyrem return to stoking it. He picked through some photos and papers from the open bin, allowing Arch to watch as he tossed them to the flames.

        Arch found themselves drifting into a deep dreamless sleep. With a pillow under their head and the room growing too warm, Lyrem studied them fondly as he continued to shove their past into the flames. Over an hour later, he closed the lid on the one of the last bins. He would return to burning those papers and photos another time. He pushed the little metal bar to close the flue on the fire, and shut the door on it as it groaned like a horn.

        “You rang…?”

        Lyrem turned around, seeing Paimon, he scoffed. Then held a finger to his lips to keep the demon quiet until he shooed him into the kitchen. Lyrem started the kettle on the stove. Paimon looked from the couch and then back to Lyrem warily, and then opened his mouth.

        “Don’t say it,” Lyrem interjected. Paimon looked slightly offended.

        “I was going to say that our lawyer has their papers ready,” Paimon replied with an innocent conjecture. Removing his tall hat, he placed it on the small worn wooden table. Lyrem nodded, and he continued. “But also, that you are getting too close.”

        Lyrem pulled himself away from the cupboard; a tin of hot chocolate powder in his hand, he considered using it as a bludgeoning instrument- but even if he had something more weaponized, Paimon wouldn’t have felt a thing. He was a demon, after all.

         “All Arch has to do is sign and your debts will become their debts. You won’t ever have to worry about what you owe- well until you make another ridiculous deal, that is.”

        “Keeping Maria alive was not a ridiculous deal,” Lyrem said. He pulled three mugs out of the cupboard, filling them with spoonfuls of the powder. Now they only needed to wait for the water to boil.

        “My apologies,” Paimon instilled a silence into the room. Absently he sifted through the mail with Charlotte’s name sprawled over it. Insurance payment reminders, some neighbourhood notices, and list of seemingly random addresses she had penned out over the phone one day, they all sat in a heap. “Their mother, then?”

        Lyrem accepted the shame with dignity and crossed his arms as he leaned into the fridge.

“It had to be done. Arch is too easily influenced by them,” He spoke simply. “Thank you again for providing me with another doorway. It took a lot of energy… I may need to devour a heart or two before I replenish my strength.”

“Have you considered that you might be getting in a little over your head?”

Lyrem shook it. “No. I- I am not in over my head, Paimon. My head is still well above the waterline, thank you very much.”

Paimon smoothed his beard to the end and regarded the man skeptically.

“So, you will still allow Arch to sign?”

Lyrem blinked, his lashes fluttering bit as he thought of his answer. Then he scowled.

“They already said they would sign. I am sure that if Arch cares about me, and cares about the work ahead of them, that they will make the right decision for themselves.”

“And if they make the wrong decision?” Paimon postulated.

Lyrem fell silent just in time for the kettle to scream out with a high whistle. He shut off the stove, and picked it up. Filling the three mugs and giving them a stir, he passed one to Paimon, then moved to the living room.

With a light nudge, Arch awoke to the smell of the warm chocolate sugar and accepted the cup as they sat up. Wrapping their blanket around their shoulders, Lyrem asked.

“Are you feeling better, now?”

Arch nodded, brushing away some dried tears. Past Lyrem’s head of grey, the light was on in the kitchen with the demon in black sitting there still. He caught their gaze and held it carefully. Arch waved.

Paimon nodded back with a slight sideways grin.

“What’s Paimon doing here?” they asked, whispering to Lyrem.

Good. They remembered Paimon.

“He’s just here to catch up, that’s all.” Lyrem left them to their own devices on the couch and returned to the kitchen table as he retrieved his own comforting mug and held onto it with both hands as if the simple act could warm his rapidly cooling heart.

‘Let them enjoy their prom- their graduation. One last night out with their friends.” Lyrem was asking- no, pleading more than telling.

“Immediately after. I don’t want you to be running around any longer with this target on your back. It makes me… uneasy.” Paimon adjusted in his seat. “You and I still have much to do.”

“Yes. Yes, I know.” Lyrem sipped on his hot chocolate as his hazel eyes glazed over from thoughts that were perhaps too deep for his own good.

[alpaca-writes]

I’d like to introduce Vikram (whumper) who’s the son of a billionaire. He’s hardworking and always rewards his employees. But he hates being disrespected and becomes extremely vindictive when it happens. He’s very intelligent and owns his own estate, which of course gives him the opportunity to kidnap whumpees and torture them to death :(

(Physical description- blonde hair, blue eyes, tall, broad frame, wears a tux if he’s going outside).

Vikram: hello! *puts out a hand to shake.

Lyrem clasps the man’s hand, with a genuine smile painting his face. Lyrem studies Vikram closely, as if trying to remember him from long ago. 

“My my! I think you were about the size of a loaf of bread the last time I saw you! And I see that you have grown into your father’s good looks!” Lyrem finally releases his hold on the man’s hands and sighs graciously. “You might be surprised to know I did a bit of work for him, way, way back- before he struck gold with his investments.” 

Lyrem winks playfully under his greying-to-white brows. Before the conversation could continue any further, a firm hand shoves the old man out of the way. 

Arthur looks up from his phone, thankful to have one for the moment, since he needed to quickly use it for Urban Dictionary after hearing an unfamiliar term.

“Whumpees,” he started with flaming eyes. He ignored the disdainful glares from Lyrem who moved to stand behind him. “You torture people? You hurt them and- and kill them for kicks? What the hell is wrong with you, man?”

“Cwsg sydyn,”

Arthur felt a quick pinch at the back of his neck and promptly collapsed to the ground. Lyrem stood behind him, with a quick roll of his eyes. 

“That’s a spell I learned from the fae,” he explained. “It was enough to put Merlin out for a while. With this idiot, it may last a few weeks.”

There was an awkward pause as the two men stood over Arthur’s body. 

Lyrem looked up to Vikram, expectantly. 

“Well? You can take him if you want him. I certainly don’t.”

-----------------

I decided to take an unusual angle with this one, I hope you don’t mind that Lyrem inserts himself into Vikram’s father’s past. I love Damro and Vikram, by the way! 

Thank you so much for the ask! And I am sorry that Arch was unavailable to meet Vikram this time around.

- Alpaca

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics Chapter 3.

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics by the strange shopkeeper Lyrem, everything seems to be going well- almost too well. In fact, Arch's life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as great as it seems....

Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two]

CW: bullying, deadname use (though never revealed), memory problems, drugging/ spell casting, physical violence, robbery.

-----

CHAPTER THREE: A WAXING CRESCENT

The work was extraordinarily simple, Arch thought to themselves as they swept the floor before closing for the night. It had been several weeks since they had begun their job at Mystics. The pay was good- too good, they would think to themselves- especially since the last two nights Arch had cashed out the till with less than a hundred dollars to show for it. The days had been growing longer, the city was beginning to thrive with action, and yet, only one out of ten people would be walking into the shop, and out of those, only a few would ever buy anything at all. The opposite should have been happening. People should have been walking in at all times; at all hours buying ridiculous knick-knacks and asking Arch how to do tarot readings. It didn’t matter that Arch didn’t know, because they would pretend to know and then give some silly instruction, such as “your intuition will guide you”. Everyone loves feeling like they know the answers themselves- at least, they would, if they ever came in.

Regardless, the store was a staple to the community and had been there for decades, so why was it so dead?

It occurred to Arch that until being hired, they didn’t care for the place either. But it was comfortable, it had a good atmosphere, and the objects that Lyrem had curated and bought wholesale were decent prices- except for the rocks- Arch still thought that to be a silly investment. Spiritualists and mystics and people who just wanted pretty candles and incense should have been swarming the place on a day like today.

They heard a sound at the back door, past the washroom. Putting the broom down, Arch reached the end of the short hall and opened the door into the alley. Lyrem was there, unloading multiple large boxes from the back of his SUV- he didn’t notice he had company until Arch finally asked him:

“Do you need help with any of that?”

Lyrem spun around, meeting their gaze, he sniffed. “Oh! No- no, I’ll be alright. These are just… going into the back room for now.”

Arch nodded. They didn’t realize there was a back room.

Lyrem opened a different door in the alley with a round yellow key from his keyring and propped it open before carrying the first box through.

“You should keep an eye on the store, don’t want anyone walking in to take our merchandise,” Lyrem wasn’t so much asking, as demanding, and Arch nodded, leaving him to do what he had to.

Arch finished sweeping, and placed the broom behind the counter. They were planning to lock the doors, when a few familiar faces stepped through. Familiar from school, and familiar from the school bus particularly.

Fuck, Arch flinched as they walked in.

“Heard you got a job some place fancy!” Marcus, the ringleader, the one who looked too old for high school and too young to be trusted, sauntered into Mystics like he owned it. Behind him, a kid named Kyle, shorter than Marcus and stalky with hair so blond, he looked bald from farther away. He held a girl’s hand, Jess, Typical jerks disguised as jocks, is all they were.

Alarm bells.

For Arch, they were never literal. No one could feel them, or hear them, or how they pounded in their head incessantly until the threat was gone. Their mother set them off, as well as teachers, principals, ignoramuses on the streets, and these three motherfuckers. Of course, they would show up here.

Marcus leaned over the counter, taking a peek around to the cash register, and then looked up, all around the establishment, and particularly checked the corners. He turned back, nodding to the register.

“So, what’s in there, like three hundred dollars probably?” He inquired.

Jess picked up a small angel statue near the shelving with one hand, admiring it. Kyle split off from her, finding his way to the other end of the store, opening the record player that had ended its last song several minutes before they entered. It was still spinning. Flicking the needle, Kyle scratched the record- its painful sound echoed through the store.

“Jess, please put the angel down”-

Jess stared at them and smiled before letting the statue drop to the floor. Its wings cracked apart. With a feigned look of apology, she shrugged, and wisped her long black extension-filled hair behind her shoulder with fingers decorated by fake nails. Arch winced and gritted their teeth. They moved forward, only to have Kyle stand in front of them to block their way to the angel that needed to be cleaned up.

“Answer Marc,” Kyle said. He was entertained by Arch’s rigidness and doubled down, “What? Just answer him.”

“It’s none of your business what’s in the drawer,” Arch replied. “Now get out, all of you- I have to close.”

“You can’t close when there are still customers in the store,” Jess chimed in an annoying accent she learned from reality television more than from reality itself. “It’s rude, sweety, and we’ll make a complaint if you do.”

Marcus raised his eyebrows expectantly, reaching out an arm, he pushed Arch backward by the side of their shoulder.

“Listen, it’s not my fault, and it’s not your fault if your boss decided against using cameras in this store. It makes theft very easy- and besides,” He used their fake name in replace of Arch. Alarm bells ringing still, “- this money is insured. No harm done!”

Marcus assumed that Arch would allow him around the desk- even Arch believed they would allow him to get there too, but instead, Arch pushed him back. It was an act of stupid defiance rather than out of bravery. Not a moment later, Marcus threw a fist into the side of their face, and they all heard a sudden cracking sound. Arch fell to the ground, grasping at the armrest of one of the orange armchairs. They spit blood onto the floor, the ringing was louder than ever.

They heard the loud ka-ching of the machine and shuddered. Marcus was collecting the money in his hands at a leisurely pace.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a boy now, or something?” He asked, closing the drawer.

Arch held back the tears as much as they could, but betraying them, they squeezed their eyes shut and the water flowed from them unstoppably.

“Cause, if you are, you ought to think about growing some balls for next time.”

Kyle whooped.

They felt a swift kick land into their back that kicked the air out of the mouth in a puff. They didn’t know whose foot it belonged to, but it left them sprawled out, only to be kicked again in the side of their stomach.

Arch heard the familiar jingle at the doorway and covered their face with their hands. The back door opened, and Lyrem walked in with a scowl on his face. He huffed as he saw Arch struggle to stand. He shook his head.

They didn’t know where to start, they didn’t know what to say, they didn’t know how to explain what happened without being fired- because they let it happen. Before they were able to say anything at all, Lyrem started instead.

“Damn children.” He pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, and proceeded to the till, opening the cash drawer, he unloaded all the cash into it in an organized fashion. “Absolute nasty creatures, aren’t they?”

Arch sniffed, and tried to stand. Exhausted and ashamed, they climbed onto the chair to sit instead, and cradled their head into their hands as Lyrem busied himself at the till. He looked over to them, a slight sympathetic smile curled itself at the corner of his mouth.

“Don’t you worry. I’ve already taken care of it.” He checked the time on his watch. “You should be feeling tired. The spell will wear off within a day. And you don’t have to worry about getting home. I’ll drive you.”

His voice echoed calmingly through their ears- a heavy thrumming sound followed, and then the unmistakable feeling of total peace drifted over them, lulling them to sleep.

But Arch wouldn’t be asleep. They would continue on their normal evening schedule as an autonomic body, healed completely with the exception of some bruising that would be reasoned away by an awkward sleeping position. The next morning, Arch would wake without any memory of the attempted robbery at all, and no idea that Lyrem had done anything about it.

[alpaca-writes]

Mystics, Chapter 6

When Arch becomes hired on at Mystics, by Lyrem, everything seems to be going well- their life nearly becomes perfection. Soon enough, however, Arch realizes that perhaps not everything is as good as it seems…. 

 Directory: [chapter one] [chapter two] [chapter three] [chapter four] [chapter five]

 Tag list: @myst-in-the-mirror 

 CW: aggressive religiosity, deadname use, police questioning, hospital setting,

CHAPTER SIX: THUNDER AND PRAYER

       Arch awoke upside down in the passenger’s seat of the blue truck. The midnight storm was still sweeping through the ranches and into the city and they were alone there. The man who had thrown them against a brick wall and threatened them into their vehicle had disappeared. 

       The seatbelt dug into the side of their neck and injured shoulder. The moment it was released, Arch would fall headfirst into the top of the cab. They tried the clip as best they could with their left arm. It tingled, threatening to combust in a fury of pain if it weren’t for the rush of adrenaline fighting the broken glass and seatbelt. It was stuck. The clip wouldn’t release. They could be here for hours, for ages... all alone.

        Flashing lights came from above them- or was it ahead of them? And the shouts of a man and a woman could be heard overhead. Some kids were also talking and yelling.  

        “Call 911, Janey!” The man shouted. The passenger-side door was forced open with a crow-bar.

        Arch cried with relief as he pulled them out, supporting their head as they dropped down. The wife was speaking to someone over the phone as she helped Arch lay down flat on their back in the over-grown wet grass. A blanket was placed rolled up under their head. The comforting cloth mixed with a strong sense of relief. If they had the energy, Arch might have started crying, but doing something even that simple was just too exhausting. Raindrops splattered against their face until the recognizable sound of an opening umbrella prevented any more from dropping down. The family spoke amongst themselves but the words were jumbled now and nearly incoherent for Arch to pay attention too. A little boy was holding the umbrella. He couldn’t have been more than eight. Arch managed the tiniest smile for him as they floated in and out of consciousness.

       “You’ll be okay,” he said. “My mom’s a nurse. She’ll fix you up.”

       His raincoat was dotted with little red and blue dinosaurs. Arch counted them. There were six red tyrannosauruses, eight blue triceratops’ and then-

       There was a beep... And another... And another. Their throat was dry as a brick. Arch opened their eyes first. Glowing light of day from a veiled window to their right drowned everything around them in white. They blinked, becoming accustomed to the brightness.

        In the corner of the small room was a chair reserved for visitors. Alarm bells sounded in their mind as Arch narrowed their gaze and spied on the person sitting there, still yet unaware that they had awoken.

         He was reading a book; a used and reused copy of Meditations. Lyrem licked his thumb, and turned the page. The alarm bells calmed. Arch chalked it up to being beaten to a pulp and then waking up in a strange new place; a hospital bed.

        “Save some for me, will you?” Arch spoke dryly, literally, as well as figuratively. They managed a crooked smile as Lyrem looked up from his book of yellowed pages and kindly smiled back.

        In a fit of dry coughs, Arch tried and failed to lean up. They found the tubes leading to an IV out their arm and a blood-oxygen measure clipped onto one of their index fingers. Lyrem put his book down on a small side table and stood. He pressed a button on the side of the bed, and Arch was lifted to a more comfortable sitting position. He brought them a clear cup of water with a straw. Arch tried lifting their arm to accept it, but Lyrem shook his head at them and pushed it back down gently. He brought the straw up to their lips. Arch nearly drained the cup before finally nodding it away.

        Lyrem leaned against the windowsill and watched them carefully. Their whole body had been battered. Whether it was entirely from the crash or something else, he couldn’t be sure.

        Arch looked back at them curiously, and puzzled. Then they looked around the rest of the small room. The door to the hall was open and filtered through white noise from doctors and nurses all around.

        “What are you doing here?” They asked, “where’s my mom?”

        “She… was here. She called the store. She left to run a couple errands and said that she would return soon.” Lyrem grimaced as he answered. “I’m not sure what could have been more important than being by your side, but alas, I remain. I closed the store for the day.”

        “What? Why?” Arch coughed lightly. “You make the most dough on Saturdays. You should keep it open.”

        “I’d much rather not.”

        Lyrem left his response hanging there. Without more to say on the matter Arch shifted in their bed uncomfortably. Relieved, they were, they were also troubled. Angry, even, but for what reason, Arch couldn’t say.  

        “There were officers waiting by the door for you to wake. Should I let them in for you? Tell them it’s an alright time?”

        “Officers?”

        “Well, nobody knows what happened to you or how you ended up on a rural highway flipped over in a truck”- Lyrem stopped himself. Becoming too passionate, he sensed.

        “Huh. Right.” Arch nodded. Thinking back to the night before was causing a pain in the back of their eyes- like they were being pulled into the back of their head.

        “What if you told me what happened first, then I’ll let the officers in and you can repeat it back to them. It might be easier for you,” Lyrem helpfully suggested.

        “No, no, I can speak to them now.” Arch insisted. “I’d rather speak to them now.”

        Lyrem nodded, and then stepped to the door, finding the two officers chatting down the hall. One blue uniformed woman with a tight, blonde pony-tail glanced in his direction over a steaming Styrofoam cup. He motioned for them to come in with a wave of his hand. The other, a tall, younger man with a thin chin pulled out a small notebook as he entered. Their name tags read Parsons and Grenn, respectively.

        Detective Parsons began by explaining that the police were unable to find the driver of the blue Ford. The truck was both unregistered, and uninsured, so there was no trail to follow to know who it had belonged to. The last known owner died in 2003 and afterwards there was no trace of it anywhere in the system. The plates on the vehicle had been stolen, and if the driver was careful enough, its stolen plates would have gone unnoticed for as long as the registration would last on it.

        “At the moment, we have no leads on finding this individual”-

        “My attacker, you mean. They attacked me.” Arch spit out. “Labels are important, you know.”

        “I know it can’t be a comforting thought. And I am sorry, but you must understand that we are doing everything we can to find the person who attacked you.” Parsons implored. Never once had her professional demeanor faltered under the scrutiny of the rightfully furious teenager.

        “He was a man.” Arch started. “He was quite a bit taller than me too. Probably six feet at least… White. It was dark but I could tell he- he had dark hair. Kind of shaggy-like”-

         Grenn had written it all down, and Lyrem stared at Arch in interest as they described the man. Parsons stopped Arch from continuing to describe him as she placed her cup down on the side table beside Lyrem.

        “We’ll send this to the sketch artist. They will be flying in over the next couple days. With the disappearances of your classmates as well, we are pulling out everything in our arsenal to get a detailed picture of who attacked you. We will be calling you in a couple days and you’ll be coming into the police station to speak with them.” Parsons explained emphatically. “For now, we need a timeline- where did they find you? What time was it when they attacked?”

        “Oh…” Arch felt rather silly for some reason. “I… I was pulled into the alley by the flower-shop...”

        “Which flower shop?”

        “Bloom Treasury, downtown. Half a block from Mystics.”

        Lyrem looked concerned, or possibly angry… with the thickness of his brows and the wrinkle in his forehead, Arch couldn’t be quite sure what he was thinking.

        “Mystics?”

        “It’s just a store, where I work.”

        “Were you working last night?”

        Their heartrate started to increase. Arch carefully measured their breaths by seconds.

        “No... No, I wasn’t, I was just walking.”

        “What time were you walking?”

        “I..” Arch had the strangest sensation of being back in the passenger’s seat of the blue Ford. The voice of the man rang in their head in an echo of a memory. Missing time? He had said. “I.. I think I’m confused.” Arch finished.

        “It’s understandable. I know its very hard to think back to the incident, but for the sake of finding this man and bringing him to justice, we have to know what time it was when it happened.”

        “It was after sundown.”

        “Can you be more specific?”

        It wasn’t long after dinner that Arch had left, and sundown wouldn’t have been until after ten. It only took a half hour to reach the downtown core from their house so where was the missing time? There was an hour, maybe even longer that was completely unaccounted for.

        “I think it was just after ten,” they said finally.

        Grenn made his notes again.

        “What kinds of things did he say to you?” Parsons inquired. “Anything you can remember will be helpful.”

        Lyrem gazed across the room steadily at Arch who met his eyes. It was hypnotically comforting to know he was still there, watching over them and keeping them safe.

        “He was… kind of strange.” Arch said, almost in a mutter. “Though, he mentioned the other kids. He knew that the others were taken: Jess, Kyle, and … Marcus.”

        “Did he tell you they were still alive?”

        Arch shook their head slightly and winced.

“He said he killed one of them already. He couldn’t be sure when the other two would die- if they already were… y’know, dead.”

        Parsons paused and turned to Lyrem who was laid back in the armchair deep in thought. She had noticed an odd connection. Arch had been darting their eyes to the corner each time they responded. Seeking approval, she surmised quietly.

        “How did you escape?” Parsons asked turning back to them again.

        Arch thought for a moment.

        “I stabbed him… in the leg... with his own knife. That’s when he lost control of the truck.”

        Grenn looked up from his notes briefly, with brown eyebrows raised.

        “What kind of knife?”

        Parsons looked at officer Grenn; surprised by the question.

        Arch switched their gaze to them. “A hunting knife… the big kind with a dip at the end.”

        “How does a guy walk away from a car crash with a Bowie knife in his leg?” Grenn asked allowed.

        The question caused Arch a visible discomfort. They turned away from everyone and remained quiet.

        “I believe that is everything for now.” Parsons gathered herself and straightened her uniform, “Thank you for your time, -----. We may have more questions for you when you come into the station for the sketch artist. You’ll soon be contacted with a date and time.”

        Parsons handed over her card to the bedridden teen who was unable to lift an arm, much less retrieve it from the detective’s hand. Parsons placed in on the table beside Arch instead and then followed Grenn out the door, leaving her Styrofoam cup behind.

        Arch took a long breath of relief as they left. For the first time, they stared down at themselves. Fresh cuts littered up and down their left arm, while their right was also cut up, but supported by a sling. Beneath the blankets, Arch could feel the light stinging of several more wounds against their legs. Their neck ached with every miniscule turn of their head and their back…

        They wiggled their toes, thankful for the movement, but regretted it all as they tried mightily to bend one of their knees. The middle of their back screamed of pulled muscles and bruises that were carved into them. Arch seethed as they let their leg down gently.

        “Don’t try to move.” Lyrem advised, picking up his copy of Meditations once again. “You can press the button next to you if you want more pain medication.”

        “I don’t want more medication; I want to go home.”

        “And you’ll get to your house of horrors again soon, but for now, just close your eyes, and get some sleep.”

        “I can’t sleep. He knew my name, Lyrem. How am I supposed to rest if he’s still out there?”

        Lyrem looked up from his book, becoming impatient, but in his eyes, it was clear that he tried to be supportive. He steeled his gaze on Arch and opened his mouth to speak. He was interrupted by Arch’s mother, who peered in with a bouquet of pink lilies in one hand.

        “Is she awake? Oh, thank the Lord.” She crossed herself as she entered and put herself directly next to the bedside. Letting the flowers down, she planted a hard kiss on Arch’s forehead that was too close to the rest of the injuries already planted there.

        Lyrem rolled his eyes to the ceiling and stood up.

        “Well, now that your mother is here, I suppose I should get going; leave you both in peace”-

        “Oh no, you should stay,” Arch’s mother turned on her heels to Lyrem and ushered someone else through the door: a short balding man, recognizable to Arch as a family friend with a plain white collar around his neck. “I invited Father Ferley to lead us in prayer. Won’t you stay, Lyrem? The more hands we have lifting to the Lord, the better.”

        So that was the errand, Arch realized.

Lyrem stared at the woman and managed a facetious grin. There was a bit of levity to the situation after all. Arch nearly burst out in laughter as he stood there, unsure of himself or what to say to the invitation.

The presence of the priest in the room was clearly putting him off. It wasn’t that Lyrem was nervous or humbled by the man, as much as it was like he had just drank a glass of spoiled milk and was desperate to get the lingering vile taste off his tongue.

        “I’d prefer not to,” he stated simply.

        “Ah, you read Aurelius?”

        The priest lifted his thinly rimmed glasses, pushing them higher up the bridge of his nose. He inquired Lyrem innocently and continued.

        “Quite possibly one of the wisest Emperors of Rome. ‘Live a good life,’ he said. ‘for if the gods are just, then they will not care for your devotion, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by,” the priest smiled to him warmly.

        Lyrem regarded him with suspicion, but played along.

        “You quote his Meditations like Corinthians,” Lyrem observed. The annoyance slowly drained from his face and he stood taller, squaring himself. “Tell me then, the next line of that heavenly wisdom. Do you recall what it is?”

        Lyrem waited for a beat and met Father Ferley’s gaze with a coldness he usually reserved for the most wretched of people. He finished the verse himself.

        “If the gods are unjust, then you should not want to worship them.”

        “What the hell are you weirdos talking about?” Arch spouted rudely. “Can we please just pray and get it over with, if that’s what we want to do?”

        “Yes, lets.” Arch’s mother pulled the two men by their elbows into a half circle around the bed. Lyrem stood at the foot of it, unhappily supporting himself on the bars of plastic and metal.

        Father Ferley led the small group in prayer. The details of the prayer itself were unimportant, except for the fact that Arch heard their name being correctly used. That was a nice change. The other detail that was noticed by Arch before the ‘amens’ commenced, was Lyrem, white-knuckling the edge of the bed as he suffered through the words spoken.    

        The man didn’t offer an ‘amen’. He turned around as it ended, and picked up the Styrofoam cup that was mistakenly left behind by Detective Parsons. He bid the three farewell, and finally escaped them.

                                   --------------------

        “I see it too,” Father Ferley fiddled with the edge of his glasses, as Arch’s mother breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s not uncommon for many older gentlemen to be wary of the promises of God. But I sense that there is a negative energy towards the Lord, and that Arch may be picking up on that.”

        “Her name isn’t Arch- It’s”-

        “Their name is Arch, Charlotte,” Father Ferley continued. “Your child has spent many years honouring you. Perhaps it is time that you also honour them. It may be this very thing that is driving Arch away from you and towards figures of authority that respect them. People like Lyrem. It is what drives them out of their home and onto the streets where they encounter devils like the one from last night.”

        Charlotte buried her face into her hands although there was little energy to stop the tears from flowing. The hospital halls were still bustling with activity though they had left Arch in their room to continue resting for the night. She sniffed, and finally lifted her head. Then she nodded. Clutching the small gold crucifix around her neck, she lifted it to her lips and breathed a deep sigh- thankful that her child was safe from harm.

“What happened was not your fault, but if you want to repair this relationship with your child, you must accept them for who they are. If I were you, I would try to get to know this ‘Arch’. You might even like them better than who they were before.” Father Ferley smiled lightly.

With her spirits lifted, Charlotte followed Father Ferley out of the hospital. She was already planning her words carefully to her child for the next time they’d meet.