#i . behind a bright smile lies fangs ready to bare ‚ study .

[aristocate]

i.   did u know that toulouse is the cutest of the top crime bosses in the world .

[thewhumperinwhite]

ATTD: The Wolf Pup, Without His Pack (2)

previous // masterlist

@whump-cravings @favwhumpstuff @whumpitywhumpwhump

TW for: minor whumpee (nonhuman); nonhuman whumpee; use of it pronouns; implied parental neglect/Bad Parenting In General; referenced parental death.

----

Old Cruci hated humans.

Usually it was hard to see what Old Cruci was feeling. Old Cruci said things like “I have sworn on my life to protect you” and “Your coat is dirty; clean it” in the same tone of voice. Saren had never seen Old Cruci smile, and even his frown was often hard to see—just a twitch down at the corner of his mouth, and up in the middle of one of his eyebrows. The only time, really, that Saren could tell what Cruci was thinking was when he spoke of humans.

“They are like flies,” Cruci said once, when Saren had asked him too many times. His lip curled up, to show his pointed teeth, and his nose wrinkled, like he was smelling something bad. “They breed like flies, and die like flies. One is easily swatted, but more are always coming. They eat dead flesh and carry disease.” Then he met Saren’s eyes—Saren froze, right down to his marrow, for Cruci had never looked at him like that before—and narrowed his violet eyes. “You have seen flies, pup. Then you need never see a human. One is as good as the other. Do not ask of this again.”

That had made Saren relax, a little. Old Cruci said “do not ask of this again” often enough that it was no longer frightening. In fact, it might be that Cruci said “do not ask of this again” more often than he said anything else, at least to Saren.

Saren had reasons to hate humans, too. He was small when the Betrayer slew the Great Wolf, and burned the old Den to the ground. He never met the man himself. But Saren remembered the Great Wolf—remembered the Great Wolf’s dimpled smile and bright easy laugh; remembered clinging to the Great Wolf’s back as they ran through the trees, faster than lightning; remembered riding on the Great Wolf’s shoulders and the smell of the Great Wolf’s pelt when he carried Saren, half asleep, to bed. Saren knew what humans had taken from the Wolves, and what the Betrayer had taken from him, as well.

But Saren remembered the Great Wolf, and he knew that his father would not wish him to hate a people he had never seen.

So he didn’t ask Old Cruci where the humans lived, or whether he could go, and see them for himself. Cruci was not his father; Cruci could not decide who Saren would hate. And, anyway, Cruci had said himself that Saren was not to ask him of humans again.

Saren didn’t realize until after the iron-tipped arrow had torn into his shoulder that since he had not told Cruci where he was going, all the promises in the world would not let Old Cruci come and save him, now.

The human den was like nothing Saren had ever seen before—huge and labyrinthine, a thousand times more than the caves around the Wolf Den, which he had thought himself so clever for mastering. And Old Cruci was right about at least one thing: there were too many humans. He must have seen a hundred of them, by now, and more every time he turned a corner, and at least a dozen carrying weapons, and running after him now, and shouting in a language he did not understand.

Saren was a Wolf, on of Those That Chase, he should have been able to leave all these men in their clanging armor behind in an instant. But the arrow was tipped in iron, and his shoulder still burned, even though he had pulled it out, and now his feet were clumsy and slow, and he could not stop even long enough to pull his pelt back around him and be a proper Wolf again. And he was entirely lost, now, with no idea which way was back to the gate, or even where the wall was; and he couldn’t scale it now, not before they could all reload their bows, and—

There was a human in the middle of the road. Saren barreled into it at full speed, landing on the dirt in a heap, then scrambled to gather up his pelt and turned, ran through the first open door he saw.

The building was empty, thank all Fathers. There were boxes, made of wood, scattered around, mainly empty, though a few had straw or bits of canvas or ceramic in them. Saren found one, tipped over on its side, that was just bigger than himself—in this shape, anyway, which was a little smaller—and folded himself into it. He pulled his pelt around his shoulders, wanting to be in his own shape again—to have his proper teeth and claws at least—but the box was too small; there was no room to sink into his pelt and change back.

Outside, a harsh voice barked an order Saren didn’t understand. A softer voice followed it. Saren curled tightly in on himself and covered his head with both hands, tucked his face into his pelt.

As though that would help. He was the son of the Great Wolf, and ought to rise to meet them. Even this many humans would not have overwhelmed his father—the Betrayer had done it only through lies and trickery. Old Cruci would see this many humans and roll his eyes and burn them all to ash.

The humans clattered in their armor, yelling again.

At least Old Cruci wasn’t here to see him cry, he thought.

It was strangely quiet, then, for a little two long. The box was very small; Saren had the mad thought that humans must have been cruel after all, to leave him here to get cramp before they took his head and put it on their coat of arms.

Then the building’s door creaked quietly open, and Saren heard the faint noise of bare feet on the packed-earth floor.

He still didn’t understand the voice that called out. But it was quiet, soft with dry-rusted edges; not very like the soldiers’ terrifying barks at all.

Then, after a moment, the same voice cleared its throat, and called softly, “Little Demon? Are you here?”

Saren had understood not one word since he had come to the humans’ den, but this was clear as day. He jumped, a little, and tapped his head lightly against the box, and then its lid slid free and slapped loudly against the floor, kicking up a cloud of dust, which made Saren cough.

Saren froze.

There was a pause, and then the bare foot steps approached, light and slow. Saren tried to fold himself even further into the box, but there was nowhere left to go. He wrapped his pelt around his shoulders, and bared his teeth, ready to bite.

The human knelt in front of Saren’s box. It did not step as close as he had feared. There was room to run past it, even, if he dared.

Saren stared at it.

It wasn’t the littlest human he had seen—right at the beginning, when he was clinging to the top of the wall around the human den, he had seen two humans littler than him, colored like Cruci with black hair and brown skin, heads bent together, laughing. This human was taller, and older—though not much, Saren reminded himself, since humans aged so much like flies—and colored different, with messy yellow hair cropped short, and pale pinkish skin, torn and red in places. It was taller, but a thousand times thinner, swimming in spun-cloth clothes far to big for its narrow sharp-boned frame.

Its pale skeleton’s face went soft the moment it could see Saren in the darkness. A sword hung at its hip, but the hand it held out toward Saren was empty.

“Hello, little one,” the human said softly, and smiled.

----

The demon, visible mainly as a pair of shiny cat-eyes, stared out of the crate at the boy called Will.

“…you speak human,” it said after a moment. Will almost laughed.

It was a child’s voice, clear enough. And it had looked like a child, out on the street. And it had left a little trail of blood inside this empty storefront. Will could just see the shape of it, now, curled with its knees to its chest, like a child hiding in a closet.

The thought of it made his chest ache.

“Here, little one,” he said, his voice as gentle as he could make it. “Isn’t that box a little small for you?”

The demon narrowed its cat-pupiled eyes very slightly, and said nothing.

“The guards are off away, for now,” Will told it. “I’d like to help you, if you’ll let me.”

The demon stared at him, and leaned forward a little out of its tightly-curled position. Light from the empty windows landed on a lock of storm-gray hair; it seemed to be wearing a cloak of matching gray fur around its shoulders.

“Why?” it said, half accusing and half curious.

“You’re a child,” Will said, before he could think better of it. “And they hurt you, didn’t they?”

The demon crept further out of the crate, in order to give Will a deeply skeptical look.

“I am not a child,” it said, sounding less insulted and more—like it thought Will might be deeply stupid. “I am a Wolf. And only barely littler than you, any—oh!”

When it tried to put weight on its left arm, it winced badly, clutching at its shoulder. Will moved forward immediately, without thinking; the wolf moved quickly back, baring its teeth—but so clearly frightened, rather than angry, that Will did not even move back, only raised his hands, to show that they were empty.

“I won’t hurt you, little wolf,” he said softly. “I—"

(Another, smaller voice, saying: “You Promise?”

And himself, on his knees again, smiling with bruised lips: “I Promise.”)

The demon was staring at him, tilting its head slightly. Will had no idea what his face had been doing. He swallowed hard, and remembered how to smile with a little effort.

“I—” His voice was hoarse; he cleared his throat, flushing. “You have my word.”

The demon studied him with open curiosity. It opened its mouth, its small fangs just visible.

“Captain!—Look, there’s a whole trail of blood here, it must be—”

The first guard’s voice was high and excited; the best-armored guard, who must have been the captain, did not sound angry either, though Will had no doubt that part would come.

“What on earth’s the meaning of this, boy?” the guard captain said.

He was standing in the storefront’s doorway, his hand resting idly on his sword, gaping at Will. He hadn’t even really seen the demon yet; it was already disappearing into the crate.

There were a dozen guards on the street, now, wondering why their captain had stopped in the doorway, when there were children to kill inside.

Will felt his hand drop to the hilt of his sword, without entirely deciding it should do so.

“There must be a back door,” he said softly, his eyes still on the guard captain. “Find it, and stick to the back alleys. There’s an inn two streets down; stay out of sight, until you see a man come out, wearing a green shirt, like this one.”

“What the hell are you doing?” the guard captain said, just now beginning to raise his voice.

Will got carefully to his feet. He heard the wolf-child gasp, behind him, but put his back to it.

“I might ask you the same thing,” Will said, coldly, and drew his sword.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Written In The Stars XXXIX (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: This book featured Ron and Harry’s gif nonstop and that’s bc their facial expressions throughout the whole movie were iconic.

Words: 4,105

Warnings: Blood on the walls, mentions of death

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Twenty-One: The Chamber of Secrets.

"I have good news," Professor McGonagall told the students during breakfast one Friday morning.

"Dumbledore's coming back!" Several people yelled joyfully.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared Wood excitedly.

"Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last." McGonagall said above the other voices, "Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

"It won't matter that we never asked Myrtle, then!" Ron said cheerfully, they'd been pushing back their talk cause it was impossible to get a moment alone. "Hermione'll probably have all the answers when they wake her up! Mind you, she'll go crazy when she finds out we've got exams in three days' time. She hasn't studied. It might be kinder to leave her where she is till they're over."

Silently and looking quite affected, Ginny sat down next to Ron, throwing nervous glances over her shoulder every five seconds.

"What's up?" asked Ron.

Ginny remained silent, looking for something, someone.

"Spit it out," said Ron, watching her.

"Don't be rude," Mel frowned, turning to Ginny and asking. "Gin?"

"I've got to tell you something," Ginny finally mumbled, avoiding their eyes.

"What is it?" asked Harry.

The girl was struggling, she opened her mouth and closed it again.

"What?" Ron urged.

Harry leaned closer so only them were able to hear.

"Is it something about the Chamber of Secrets? Have you seen something? Someone acting oddly?"

Ginny made the tiniest nod, and just when she was about to speak...

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny. I'm starving, I've only just come off patrol duty." Percy said demandingly, appearing out of nowhere.

Ginny jumped and, with wide eyes, stood up and walked away without saying a word.

"Percy!" Ron exclaimed. "She was just about to tell us something important!"

"What sort of thing?" Percy asked, almost spilling his cup of tea on the table.

"I just asked her if she'd seen anything odd, and she started to say-" Percy cut his speech short.

"Oh - that - that's nothing to do with the Chamber of Secrets," He said.

"How do you know?" Ron frowned.

"Well, er, if you must know, Ginny, er, walked in on me the other day when I was - well, never mind - the point is, she spotted me doing something and I, um, I asked her not to mention it to anybody. I must say, I did think she'd keep her word. It's nothing, really, I'd just rather -"

Percy was bright red.

"What were you doing, Percy?" Ron grinned. "Go on, tell us, we won't laugh."

"More than we already are, at least," Mel teased.

Percy wasn't amused.

"Mark my words," Lockhart said, as he guided them to their next class. "The first words out of those poor Petrified people's mouths will be 'It was Hagrid.' Frankly, I'm astounded Professor McGonagall thinks all these security measures are necessary."

Mel was about to snap at him when Harry interrupted her thoughts.

"I agree, sir," He said, Ron dropped his books in surprise.

"Thank you, Harry," said Lockhart, not bothering to help Mel and Ron to pick up his things. "I mean, we teachers have quite enough to be getting on with, without walking students to classes and standing guard all night..."

"That's right," Ron nodded, grabbing the books Mel was handing back to him. "Why don't you leave us here, sir, we've only got one more corridor to go -"

"What are you-?" Harry pinched her arm before she could finish her question.

"You know, Weasley, I think I will," said Lockhart. "I really should go and prepare my next class -"

He rushed back down the corridor.

"Prepare his class," Ron mocked. "Gone to curl his hair, more like."

"What was all that?" Mel raised a brow.

"Don't you want to know what Myrtle has to say about her own attack?"

The curiosity was bigger than her need to get to class. They'd barely moved a few feet away from the hall when McGonagall ran into them.

"What are you doing?"

"We were -we were-" Ron stammered. "We were going to - to go and see -"

"Hermione," Harry said quickly. "We haven't seen her for ages, Professor, and we thought we'd sneak into the hospital wing, you know, and tell her the Mandrakes are nearly ready and, er, not to worry -"

"The truth is," Mel interrupted when she noticed Harry was running out of words, "I've been having the most terrible nightmares, Professor. The boys tried to help but it hasn't been of use, they're doing this so I can see Hermione and... and convince myself that she's going to be fine."

Ten heavy seconds passed before McGonagall spoke again.

"Of course," she said, the tiniest tear threatening to leave the corner of her eye. "Of course, I realize this has all been hardest on the friends of those who have been... I quite understand. Yes, of course, you may visit Miss Granger. I will inform Professor Binns where you've gone. Tell Madam Pomfrey I have given my permission."

They walked away in stunned silence.

"Did we just... managed to trick McGonagall?" Mel asked in amazement.

"That," said Ron proudly, "was the best story you've ever come up with."

Harry and Mel shared a look, grinning.

"We have to make a stop at the hospital wing now, though," Mel said, "otherwise McGonagall will know we lied. That could affect us in the future."

"Future?" Harry smiled. "Are you planning to get into more mischief, Mellow?"

"One can't be too careful," She replied with a small smile.

"Wonder if she did see the attacker, though?" said Ron, looking at Hermione's face. "Because if he sneaked up on them all, no one'll ever know..."

"That's why we're going to ask Myrtle," Mel sighed, pushing some baby hairs away from her friend's face.

She glanced at Harry and noticed he was staring at Hermione's right hand. He leaned closer, examining their friend's fingers.

"All right there, Glasses?"

Harry quietly pointed to something on Hermione's hand. Mel got a closer look and realized there was a piece of paper inside it.

"Get it out," Ron whispered.

Harry struggled trying not to tear it apart. Mel and Ron sat closer to each other so Pomfrey couldn't see what he was doing. Finally, he straightened up with the paper on his hand. It was a torn page from a book, Harry unfolded it and sat next to Mel so the three of them could read it.

'Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.'

Under the text there was one word written in Hermione's handwriting, it said 'Pipes.'

"This is it," Harry breathed, "This is the answer. The monster in the Chamber's a basilisk - a giant serpent! That why I've been hearing that voice all over the place, and nobody else has heard it. It's because I understand Parseltongue..."

"So it is a giant snake," Mel gulped. "I've never wished to be more wrong in my life."

"The basilisk kills people by looking at them. But no one's died- because no one looked it straight in the eye. Colin saw it through his camera. The basilisk burned up all the film inside it, but Colin just got Petrified. Justin... Justin must've seen the basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick! Nick got the full blast of it, but he couldn't die again... and Hermione and that Ravenclaw prefect were found with a mirror next to them. Hermione had just realized the monster was a basilisk. I bet you anything she warned the first person she met to look around corners with a mirror first! And that girl pulled out her mirror- and-"

"It was right behind them," Mel continued quietly, "because everyone else was outside to watch the match."

"And Mrs. Norris?" Ron asked.

"The water..." Harry said, deep in thought. "The flood from Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. I bet you Mrs. Norris only saw the reflection... The crowing of the rooster... is fatal to it! Hagrid's roosters were killed! The Heir of Slytherin didn't want one anywhere near the castle once the Chamber was opened! Spiders flee before it! It all fits!"

"But how's the basilisk been getting around the place?" said Ron. "A giant snake... Someone would've seen..."

Harry and Mel pointed at the word scribbled on the page.

"Pipes," Harry retorted. "Pipes... Ron, it's been using the plumbing. I've been hearing that voice inside the walls..."

"Hermione, you're brilliant!" Mel exclaimed, rereading the paper.

"The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets!" Ron shook Harry's arm. "What if it's a bathroom? What if it's in-"

"Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, "said Harry. "This means, I can't be the only Parselmouth in the school. The Heir of Slytherin's one, too. That's how he's been controlling the basilisk."

"What're we going to do?" said Ron, whose eyes were flashing. "Should we go straight to McGonagall?"

"Yes!" Mel stood up eagerly. "I bet McGonagall will know what to do now, maybe they'll get Dumbledore!"

"Let's go to the staff room," said Harry, standing up as well. "She'll be there in ten minutes. It's nearly break."

They made their way back to the teachers room, but the wait wasn't long before they had another setback.

"All students to return to their House dormitories at once." McGonagall's voice echoed through the walls, "All teachers return to the staff room. Immediately, please."

Harry turned to look at his friends.

"Not another attack? Not now?"

"What'll we do?" said Ron. "Go back to the dormitory?"

"No," Harry looked around and pointed to an old wardrobe. "In here. Let's hear what it's all about. Then we can tell them what we've found out."

"It has happened," she told the silent staff room. "A student has been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Professor Flitwick let out a squeal. Professor Sprout clapped her hands over her mouth. Snape gripped the back of a chair very hard and said, "How can you be sure?"

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Professor McGonagall, who was very white, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. 'Her skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever.'"

Professor Flitwick burst into tears.

"Who is it?" said Madam Hooch, who had sunk, weak-kneed, into a chair. "Which student?"

"Ginny Weasley," said Professor McGonagall.

Ron sat back beside her, Mel gripped his shoulder as her mind drifted somewhere else, refusing to believe Ginny was permanently gone.

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Professor McGonagall. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said..."

The staffroom door banged open again. For one wild moment, Harry was sure it would be Dumbledore. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

"So sorry - dozed off - what have I missed?"

Mel scoffed, Harry nudged her arm to remind her to stay silent so the teachers couldn't tell they were there. Ron was shaking, she knew because she'd kept her hand on him, trying to give some sort of comfort.

"Just the man," Snape said with a nasty smile. "The very man. A girl has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart's eyes widened.

"That's right, Gilderoy," continued Professor Sprout. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I - well, I -" sputtered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" added Professor Flitwick.

The teachers seemed to be having a pleasant time torturing Lockhart.

"D-did I? I don't recall -"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," said Snape. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

"I - I really never - you may have misunderstood -"

"We'll leave it to you, then, Gilderoy," said Professor McGonagall. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

"Looks like the lies finally caught up with him," Mel whispered to Harry, who just nodded in agreement.

"V-very well," he said. "I'll - I'll be in my office, getting... getting ready." He left in a hurry.

"Right," said McGonagall, "that's got him out from under our feet. The Heads of Houses should go and inform their students what has happened. Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories."

An hour after the news spread, Mel was sitting next to Ron, his brothers, and Harry, with no words of comfort. The only thing she'd been able to do as soon as she saw the twins was hug them and mumble some apologies for the time she'd spent not speaking to them, she considered that the whole affair had been silly and lacked importance, now any of that mattered.

They didn't talk much, no one had the spirit to chat about anything with Ginny's disappearance hanging above them like a ghost, Mel's head hurt because of the stress, she wanted to do something- more yet, she could do something- the three of them could, they knew the answer, then what were they waiting for?

"She knew something," said Ron after the twins left the common to go to bed, even though it was barely seven o'clock. "That's why she was taken. It wasn't some stupid thing about Percy at all, she'd found out something about the Chamber of Secrets. That must be why she was-" Ron stopped short, he rubbed his eyes harshly. When he talked again his voice sounded hoarse, "I mean, she was a pureblood. There can't be any other reason."

Harry didn't reply, he was just as affected.

They could do something, they knew.

"Guys," said Ron. "D'you think there's any chance at all she's not- you know..."

Harry remained silent. However, Mel stood up again, she'd finally made up her mind.

"We must tell them," She demanded, "we know where the chamber is, and we know what the monster is," She took a deep breath, "that gives us an advantage, and whether Ginny is... or not, at least we have a chance to... to bring her back."

She was hoping that maybe, if they were lucky enough, Ginny could still be alive- perhaps a little injured, but alive. Ron was the first to agree.

"D'you know what?" He said. "I think you're right. We should go and see Lockhart. Tell him what we know. He's going to try and get into the Chamber. We can tell him where we think it is, and tell him it's a basilisk in there."

No one tried to stop them, perhaps because they were too sad and miserable to start any arguments, or maybe they could see Mel's decided expression as they crossed the common room, knowing no one would be capable to stop her. They made their way to Lockhart's office and he opened the door only a little, he looked disheveled and exhausted.

"Oh - Mr. Potter - Mr. Weasley- Miss Dumbledore," He stammered. "I'm rather busy at the moment - if you would be quick -"

"Professor, we've got some information for you," said Harry. "We think it'll help you."

"Er - well - it's not terribly -" Lockhart's face got redder with every word. "I mean - well all right -"

He opened the door, as they entered, he'd been packing and putting all his things in order, running away.

"Are you going somewhere?" asked Harry, guessing what was going on.

"Er, well, yes," said Lockhart. "Urgent call - unavoidable - got to go -"

"What about my sister?" Ron asked in outrage.

"Well, as to that - most unfortunate -" said Lockhart, avoiding their eyes as he wrenched open a drawer and started emptying the contents into a bag. "No one regrets more than I -"

"You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!" said Harry. "You can't go now! Not with all the Dark stuff going on here!"

"Well - I must say - when I took the job -" Lockhart muttered, now piling socks on top of his robes. "nothing in the job description - didn't expect -"

"You mean you're running away?" said Harry disbelievingly. "After all that stuff you did in your books -"

"Books can be misleading," said Lockhart delicately.

"You wrote them!" Harry shouted.

"My dear boy," said Lockhart, straightening up and frowning at Harry. "Do use your common sense. My books wouldn't have sold half as well if people didn't think Id done all those things. No one wants to read about some ugly old Armenian warlock, even if he did save a village from werewolves. He'd look dreadful on the front cover. No dress sense at all. And the witch who banished the Bandon Banshee had a harelip. I mean, come on -"

"So you've just been taking credit for what a load of other people have done?" said Harry incredulously.

"Harry, Harry," said Lockhart, shaking his head impatiently, "it's not nearly as simple as that. There was work involved. I had to track these people down. Ask them exactly how they managed to do what they did. Then I had to put a Memory Charm on them so they wouldn't remember doing it. If there's one thing I pride myself on, it's my Memory Charms. No, it's been a lot of work, Harry. It's not all book signings and publicity photos, you know. You want fame, you have to be prepared for a long hard slog."

He banged the lids of his trunks shut and locked them.

"Let's see," he said. "I think that's everything. Yes. Only one thing left."

He pulled out his wand and turned to them.

"Awfully sorry, but I'll have to put a Memory Charm on you now. Can't have you blabbing my secrets all over the place. Id never sell another book -"

"You shouldn't sell another book!" Mel snapped, "You hideous, horrible man! You're useless! We have a way to save Ron's sister and you don't care at all!"

She was terribly angry, so angry that she started to shake.

Only that the trunks did as well, and the furniture moved heavily as if trying to match the rest, the room had a sudden boost of energy that cornered Lockhart against the desk, he looked around with wide eyes, reminding her of Quirrel the time she'd throw him across the room by accident. It relieved a bit of her anger to know that the man was afraid.

"Expelliarmus!" Harry had gotten a hold of his wand and was pointing it to Lockhart, the teacher's wand flew towards him and Ron caught it, throwing it out the window.

The trunks and furniture stopped moving, her breathing slowed down. Lockhart laid on the ground, utterly terrified. Mel was pointing directly at his chest as a safety measurement, she didn't know any harmful spells, but Lockhart didn't know that.

"Shouldn't have let Professor Snape teach us that one," said Harry furiously, kicking Lockhart's trunk aside. Lockhart was looking up at him, feeble once more. Harry was still pointing his wand at him.

"What d'you want me to do?" said Lockhart weakly. "I don't know where the Chamber of Secrets is. There's nothing I can do."

"You're in luck," said Harry, forcing Lockhart to his feet at wandpoint. "We think we know where it is. And what's inside it. Let's go."

They took the teacher to the girls' toilet and made him go in first, Myrtle received them with the same excitement as usual.

"Oh, it's you," She said. "What do you want this time?"

"To ask you how you died," Harry replied.

Mel stood near the door with her wand ready, in case Lockhart tried to escape.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," Myrtle answered, though she'd never looked happier. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a boy speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then- I died."

"That's it?" Mel frowned.

"How?" said Harry.

"No idea," said Myrtle. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away... And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where exactly did you see the eyes?" said Harry.

"Somewhere there," Myrtle pointed toward the sink in front of her toilet.

Ron and Harry rushed over to the sink, Lockhart stepped back and turned, but he found Mel standing on the door and glaring at him. He gulped and went back to the center of the room, shaking like a little puppy.

"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as the kids approached it.

"Harry," said Ron. "Say something. Something in Parseltongue."

"But -" Harry tilted his head, he was watching something on the edge of the tap. "Open up."

He looked back at Ron, who shook his head.

"English."

Harry stared intently at the sink, it was quite an odd scene to be looking at. When he spoke again, it was that same strange hissing sound he'd made during the dueling club. It happened immediately, the tap sank on the ground and revealed a large pipe, they could fit in it properly. That was it, the entrance to the chamber of secrets.

"I'm going down there," Harry said.

"Me too," said Ron and Mel in unison.

"Well, you hardly seem to need me," said Lockhart, slightly more cheerful than moments ago. "I'll just -"

"Professor," Mel frowned, "you're not leaving."

"You can go first," Ron offered.

"Kids," he said, his voice feeble. "Kids, what good will it do?"

But he'd approached the pipe, and it was looking at it reluctantly.

Harry pocked him in the back with his wand. Lockhart sat on the ground and hung his legs over the pipe entrance.

"You'll do a great job, don't worry," Mel walked up to him with a smile, "if the monster is hungry we'll just feed it with you and it'll leave us alone... See? Isn't that a brilliant idea? Guess I'm not so short-minded."

Lockhart blushed a deep shade of red.

"I really don't think -" He started, but Ron pushed him over the edge. He vanished.

Both boys looked at her.

"That was a bit hard, you know?" Ron mentioned. "We won't actually offer him to the basilisk as lunch, are we?"

"Of course we won't," Mel replied, "but he really shouldn't have called me stupid during the year. I'm not stupid."

Harry lowered himself into the pipe, then he let go.

"Are we ever going to have a normal term?" She asked as Ron slid into the pipe entrance.

"Let's just hope we survive this one, then we worry about the rest," He replied before vanishing into the darkness.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@tiphareth2018 @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @celestialhayi @mikariell95 @omiwashere @thesuitelifeofafangirl​ @tomshollandz​ @steve-thotgers​ @kylosleftbuttcheek​ @reverse-hxlland​

[dreamworksworddump]

Captive in the starlight

A/N: The Royal Kidge AU that I’ve been talking about! It’s here! Thanks to @hells-will-88 and @fitzcarraldonighthawk for being awesome Beta’s! Please read and review!

Her mother stares lifelessly at the pillow beside her, where her father used to sleep. A single, grey-brown hair rests on it, marring the smooth, white surface.

Katie squeezes her hand, hoping that maybe the sheer force of her will might draw her back to the land of the living. An angry tear rolls down her cheek and onto the white bed linens. Why does this have to fall to her? She’s not prepared; She’d never wanted this. “Wake up, mom. Please, come back for me.”

Her mother blinks slowly, and sighs. Her tangled hair falls into her face, and Katie sighs before brushing it back. She’d hoped that maybe today her mother would finally hear her, might actually wake up and wear her crown again today, but obviously, the gods must hate her, because she is just as comatose as she had the day before, and the day before that. Katie dips her head, pressing her forehead into her mother's soft side. She can feel her chest move with every breath, filling up with air, and then spilling it out again.

“I'm too young, I'm unprepared,” She sniffs. “I don't know how I'm supposed to replace you guys. I'm not ready.”

Katie’s the second born child, so it had never been more than a vague, and distant idea that she might one day have to step up. Since no one had ever expected her to have a chance to rule, she’d had free reign of her education. While she had studied alchemy and medicine, and how machine ticked and computed, her brother had memorized the traditions of their allies, and learned civics, and how to actually run their country. Katie can’t regret it; she loves knowing what she knows, but still, she wishes that she had’ve bothered to learn something, anything, so that she wasn’t so clueless.

“Mom, please.” She pleads, her voice barely a broken whisper.

Behind her, the door slides open.

“What?” Katie asks, her voice sharp enough to draw blood. Whoever it is doesn't speak until she dabs her eyes dry and turns to face them.

Shiro is waiting by the door, watching her with guarded eyes. He’d known her since she’d been a child, snot-nosed, and with a penchant for getting herself covered in mud and grass stains. He’s practically her only friend, the only person in this castle that she trusts to see her mother like this, and to see her cry.

She sniffs and sinks back down onto the bed, her ceremonial dress weighing on her shoulders as if it’s been sewn together with threads of lead. “Sorry. I just- I-” Katie takes a deep, shaking breath. “Is it time?”

Shiro nods, and offers his right arm. His right arm, taken from him just like Matt had been taken from her. He was lucky enough to come back; Matt was not.  “It’s time. Are you ready?”

Not at all.

To accept the crown is to admit that her family is broken, and comatose and dead, but as her advisor had told her, to continue being stubborn, to continue funding expeditions into Zarkon’s territory that only lead to more missing, more dead, would lead to the court thinking her unfit of ruling, and she would have a rebellion on her hands to deal with.

Katie slips her arm through his. Her sleeve doesn’t do much to soften the metal of his arm, but she doesn’t care; it grounds her, keeps her from running away like she wants to.  “Of course.” She lies, her voice shaking. “Of course I am.”

Shiro leads her through the winding halls in silence, shooting her concerned glances as often as he dares. The halls are empty, spotless. Almost every servant employed by the castle is in the main hall, or in the kitchen preparing the feast, and attending to the guests. It’s strange, not passing anyone by in the more public halls. He stops her in front of the grand oak doors, and pulls her into a bone-crushing hug.

She sinks into his familiar grasp as he whispers into her ear, “You may be my Queen now, but you are still a girl who’s just lost her family. You can still mourn them.” He pulls away, and adjusts her dipping collar before resuming his proper position beside her.

They continue forward, and Shiro presses the switch on the wall,  and the doors spill open, welcoming her into a room filled with heady scent of expectation. The chairs at the end of the hall are filled with the few commoners deemed worthy of witnessing this event- war heros, and off-duty guards- and their eyes feel like spotlights trained on her. Katie can feel the back of her collar start to grow damp with nervous sweat. She can’t let it get to her. She can’t mess this up now.

Katie sets her gaze on the throne at the end of the walkway, and starts to walk. The throne is beautiful; a creation grown rather than built; pruned and guided into the high backed chair it is now. Gold fills in the cracks and holes, and lines the green cushions pressed into the seat and backing. Her father used to sit in this chair, she thinks, and now she will. The emerald carpet stops just before the steps begin, a small lump there where the carpet has been pushed up. She takes a deep breath and turns around.

The crowd in front of her is a blur of color and movement, and she can’t tell where the chairs begin and the people end. The priest steps away from his position beside the throne, and stands beside her. His wizened, old hands clasp around hers. “Princess Kathryn, of the Holt and Sutton lines, do you stand before me, ready to take on the burden that your father has passed down to you?”

She swallows. “Yes, I am.”

The Priest coughs into his shoulder, turning the dark, red fabric a shade darker. “Yes, yes. Now,” He coughs again, louder, and then looks up to meet her eyes. “Will you recite the ritual rites?”

Katie nods. She’s known these words for years, since she was young enough to recognize them under her father’s breath when he had to deal with something hard, or echoing in her brother’s room as he practiced the words, over and over until they flowed like water from his mouth. The words come to her easily, but still feel like a mockery as she says them.

“The new gods killed the old, and bestowed upon us the power to rule ourselves. For the burden of this power was too much for the common man, Aphelia bestowed this power upon her son, and henceforth, the royal family has ruled Terra. As I ascend, I promise as my father's father has promised, and his father before him, that I will put my country above my own heart's selfish wishes. The life of my country is my own, and I will serve you because we are one.” Katie bows her head, and the priest sets the heavy crown upon her head. Rather than a pretty ornamental piece, like the type the Alteans wear, the Terran crown is made of heavy iron, meant to weigh upon its wearer’s head to remind them of the weight of their decisions. The crown is heavy; it feels like she’s being forced to the ground, and already, she hates it.

She straightens up, and turns back to her father’s throne and climbs the stairs, each step in tune with the pounding of her heart. Katie takes her seat. Her dress takes up most of the room in the seat, it’s many layers of satin and silk spilling around her. She looks up at the crowd staring back at her and meets the eyes of new Empress Allura. Her pink eyes are bright, set on Katie’s dress and throne and crown with curious eyes. Out of anyone in this room, she might be the only one here who is just as new to this as she is. The Altean Kingdom had been silent for nearly two hundred years, and had only joined the coalition after the Western war began again five years ago.

Katie’s father had attempted to become allies, if not friends, with the Alteans but his efforts had come to a halt when King Alfor was murdered in cold blood. Katie had only met Allura once or twice before, and that was before she was fluent in the common tongue, but she had seemed nice, and eager enough to make friends with her. She notices that Katie is watching her, and smiles, dropping her hand from where it’d been intertwined with the King of the South, Lance’s hand.

On the opposite side of the isle sit the Galran Princes of New Daibazzal, Prince Lotor and Prince Keithian. Prince Lotor watches her watching him with an amused look in his yellow eyes. He smiles, and his fangs glint in the light like swords. She shifts her gaze to Prince Keithian, who’d been a close friend of hers before the war had began. He’d been Keith to her, no titles between them, and she’d been his Pidgeon. It had been a relief to be around him, to be no one important except for being his friend. It’s been years since they’ve spoken, but nevertheless, seeing him offer a tentative smile is enough to banish the remaining butterflies in her stomach.

The Priest steps aside, and calls out to the crowd, “Praise be to our new sovereign, Queen Kathryn of Terra!”

The crowd cheers, the royals clap and grin, and Katie realizes that the easy part is over, and that the worst of it is just about to begin. The other royals, her peers, are supposed to present her with gifts, which often foreshadow their future relationships with one another, and are supposed to represent her becoming one of the ruling class. It’s going to take hours to receive every royal in this hall, which means hours and hours of forced social interaction on which the future of her kingdom and the success of her reign depends on. Of course, her brother would’ve found this part easy, fun even. Talking to people, remembering how to accept gifts depending on the culture, and figuring out which words to say? That was his thing. He was nice, and easy to get along with, and would’ve loved the festivities today. The only part of the day that he would’ve had trouble with was the incantation, because as well and as long as he had known it, he still somehow managed to mess it up whenever he recited it to someone else.

“Empress Allura, and the Southern King Lance of Altea!” The Herald calls as the applause dies down.

Katie fiddles with her hands, hidden behind the flowing curtains of her skirts, as Empress Allura stands, her dress flowing off of her body like water. Her dress seems more comfortable than Katie’s fluffy green monstrosity, but she still curtseys stiffly, as if trying not to displace her outfit. A strand of curly, white hair escapes from her bun as she straightens up, and she quickly brushes it back behind her ear. “It was a pleasure to witness your ascension, Queen Kathryn. I do hope that our kingdoms may continue to work toward our shared goals of peace and innovation.” Her words are warm, but crisp, and have a slight lilt, marking her as a foreigner. But beyond that, she speaks in the voice of a monarch, one who has seen too much, too young. This is the voice that Shiro’s been telling her she has, whenever she switches from her easy vernacular to the proper one demanded by the court. Katie can tell that there is a girl inside of her who’s just as nervous as she is.

Katie takes a gamble, and drops the proper script to speak like she normally does, like she would to a friend. “Me too, Empress. I hope that we can be friends more than anything. I know I sure could use one.”

Allura’s polite smile spreads into a warmer grin. “As could I.”  She steps aside, and Lance rises from his chair to join them.

King Lance is already wearing a warm smile, as he steps in front of her, and bows. As he stands, his blue tunic seems to shimmer in the light, like a lapis lazuli spun into cloth. “A pleasure, your Majesty. You look beautiful.” He steps aside, and gestures at the servants behind him. “I hope you like our gifts, though I doubt that anything that we could offer can rival your beauty.” He winks dramatically, and grins.

Allura rolls her eyes, but his words make her cheeks burn with embarrassment.

Two servants stand from their seats, and carry a simple metal chest over, holding it out before the three of them. Allura presses the glowing teal button on the front, and it pops open to reveal a folded dress made of the same Altean silk as Lance and Allura’s clothes are made of, dyed in the colors of the Terran flag: Emerald green, yellow, and white. It’s beautiful, and undoubtedly expensive, and Katie has no idea how to wear something as beautiful as that without feeling self-conscious, but she likes it anyways.

“Thank you, Empress. King Lance.” Katie says. “That was- That was beautiful. Thank you.”

Allura merely smiles, and nods, and then she and her court recede like the tide going out to sea.

“Prince Hunk, and Queen Shay of the Balmera.” The Herald calls. A man dressed in a simple yellow tunic and brown overcoat stands up, hesitating at his seat before the Balmeran woman beside him, Queen Shay, she presumes, whispers something encouragingly. He nods and then heads up to the throne, carrying a small chest in his ungloved hands.

The Balmerans had been enslaved under Galran rule for nearly a hundred years, and they had only recently been freed during the turmoil that had resulted from the recent split within the kingdom. She remembers now, Katie thinks with a start. Prince Hunk had been a lowly commoner who’d gone to the Balmera to trade. When he’d gotten there, he’d ended up invited to their ball, and just like a fairy tale, fell in love with the Queen, and she with him. It had been the subject of court gossip for months; how could she forget?

“Your Majesty.” Prince Hunk bows a little too deeply, and then straightens up, offering the chest to her as casually as one would offer a glass of mead. She looks at him curiously, and then unlatches it. Inside is a collection of vials and bottles, all labeled in meticulous and large handwriting. She catches a couple words- crystal shards, quintessence- before she closes it, and passes it over to a servant hovering nearby.

“An alchemy kit?” She guesses, some of her excitement leaking through her voice.

The Prince smiles sheepishly, and fiddles with the dull ring on his finger. “Well, uh, yes. I’ve heard many things about your work, about your personal library and the discovery of the new quartskill medicine system, and I thought that you might enjoy trying out this branch of science. I hope I didn’t overstep.” He adds.

“Oh, no, of course not. I love it, Prince Hunk. I’ve heard that you’ve made some innovations of your own. Perhaps one day I’ll be able to see them?” Katie really wishes that their audience would disappear; asking excitedly about machinery and mechanical carriages is not becoming of a new sovereign ruler, but that’s all she wants to do now that she realizes who he is.

Hunk smiles more confidently, and bows again before hurrying back to his seat. His wife smiles at him proudly, one of her hands resting on her pregnant stomach.

“Prince Lotor of West New Daibazzal.”

Prince Lotor stands, his cape swooping behind him in a cascade of purple. His hair is pulled up into a high ponytail that seems to rival Allura’s locks in length. Katie doesn't know him too well; their ages were far enough apart for him to avoid interacting with her whenever she came to visit, but the few memories that she does have of him are enough to back up the various rumors she’s heard floating around. Cocky, proud, full of himself, and a liar with a tongue of honey.

He bows before her, and kisses her hand. There are a strange lack of servants trailing behind him, and for that, she is suspicious. “Your Majesty, it is an honor to be here today, and to bask in the brilliance of your beauty. Please, enjoy the many gifts of my people. There are breathtaking, but never so much as you.” Prince Lotor moves to stand beside her, taking his place in the small gap between her and Shiro. She hears Shiro sigh exasperatedly, and then the quiet click of his boots as he steps aside.

The doors at the opposite end of the room wing open, and a procession of servants step into the hall. The guests turn around row by row and gape at the bounty that they carry. Shields that glimmer in the light, swords and knives and daggers inlaid with jewels and cast in silver and gold. Scepters that seem questionably phallic-shaped, and armor, so pretty and thin that it’s practically useless except for decoration. Katie isn’t sure how long it takes before they finally stop, but by the end of it, there are mountains of stuff around her, and her servants are barely making a dent as they hurry to take it away. She glances over at Allura, and she is positively fuming. Her ears are a bright red, and her glare looks like it could kill, if Lotor would ever look over at her. Shay looks mad too, although she does a better job of hiding it behind a stony expression.

They’re not wrong to be mad. Prince Lotor has outdone just about everyone with his show of wealth. His wealth which comes from the subjugation of so many people, especially the Alteans and the Balmerans.  

Still, Katie knows better than to make a scene and deny his gifts, or to say something about his underhanded insult. “Thank you.” Katie says as Lotor bows before her once more. “I appreciate your generosity.”

“Nothing less would do for a lady as fair as you.” He says smoothly, before returning to his seat.

Keith glares at Lotor as he sits down beside him, but his brother’s smile doesn’t shift an inch.

“Prince Keith of East New Daibazzal.” The Herald calls.

Keith sighs heavily, and stands, his crimson overcoat dragging on the floor behind him. None of his servants, or his court follows him as he walks up to her throne. His hands are empty. His gait is slow.

Katie knows him well enough to understand that he doesn’t want to be here. He tries to avoid his brother whenever he can, and to be forced to interact with him civilly during the duration of the festivities, well that’s almost too much to ask. Beyond that, she senses that there’s another reason for his unease, although she can’t tell what.

Keith stops before her throne, and bows. “Your Majesty. I-” He stops, and pushes aside his crimson tunic to pull a knife from his belt. Most of the room cannot see it, but the front row can, and their eyes go wide at the sight. It’s his mamoran blade, the knife that’s supposed to ‘hold his heart’. She’s not well versed in Galran culture, but even she knows the significance of him drawing it. He turns it around, and grips the blade, offering the handle to her. “I would like to ask for your hand in marriage. I offer you my blade, and my kingdom, and a life of love. Would you accept?”

Katie feels her heart stop.

Marriage? As in, marrying Keith?

She’d known that a proposal would be a possibility; she’s a single girl, of marrying age, sitting on a mountain of wealth and power. Who wouldn’t want to capitalize on her vulnerability while they had the chance? She just hadn’t expected it from Keith of all people. Shiro is tense beside her, and she knows that he can sense her confusion. What should she say? What should she do? Katie doesn’t remember the protocol for this. She doesn’t know what to say.

“Pidge?” Keith calls quietly, the nickname pulling her from her thoughts just as easily as it had when they were kids. “I know this is sudden, but, please. I’m trying to protect you. Please let me. Please trust me.”

A husband, and another kingdom to worry about; she doesn’t want anymore responsibility, but it keeps finding her anyways. The Terran Kingdom has been weakened by the war, by the loss of the royal family. Insurgents have already sprung up in the south, and Shiro has had to stop three assassination attempts in the last week alone. Katie is just a girl; she’s not ready, she’s nervous, she’s bad with people; but to marry Keith, that would be something that her parents would approve of, that her brother would urge her to do. Of all the choices that she has to make, this one should be the easiest.

Katie reaches out tentatively, wraps her hand around the hilt, and pulls it from his grasp. The blade is made of that strange, purple metal that only the royals ever use, and an oval gem is embedded in the hilt. It feels strange. It feels like him.

She lifts it high, high enough for the whole hall to see. A cascade of gasps runs through the room. “I accept your proposal.” Katie says clearly, her voice unwavering despite her nervousness. “I will marry you.”

Keith smiles, and bows to her once more. A hint of a smile flashes across his face before he looks away, avoiding his brother’s angry gaze. “Did you ever think we’d end up like this?” He asks as he turns around, heading back to his seat.

Orphaned, engaged, rulers of their kingdoms. No, she hadn’t expected that at all.

Ch.2:

[hamsterwritin]

“short” story: The frying pan-woman.

Yeh I need a better name for this one but I’ll just use the w.i.p title for now. 

Anyway, this is a short story that I started writing a while ago after being tired of this one scene that refused to leave my head. It ended up being a bit longer than I planned (like 12 pages...heh), so I should warn ya about that. It’s in english, because I need the practice. All my stories are usually in my first language but I want to be able to write in english too. So if ya want to read this even though it’s a bit long, I would be very grateful if you could leave feedback regarding the grammar and just the writing in general!  Thanks for reading! :)

The fallen branches snapped under her feet. All the trees surrounding her were just a blur as she ran and her dark eyes were only focused on one thing; the back of another running figure in front of her. She could hear their ragged breathing over the crushing of leaves and sticks, and she could feel her own lungs screaming for air, but she pushed forward, knowing that the other figure would do the same.

    When they entered a clearing the figure suddenly decided to stop in its tracks. She barely had a second to comprehend the situation before a knife was swung her way. With a small yelp she ducked just as the blade cut through the air. Her eyes locked on the figure’s legs and she lashed out with a knife of her own. A low growl came from above her when dark blood started coloring the fabric of the figure’s pants. She stepped away to avoid another swing.   “Damn hunter!” The figure bellowed as his grip tightened around the knife. A cracking sound could be heard as the wood started to give out under the pressure. With another growl he swung at her again, but this time when she dove away he was ready. She doubled over when a strong leg made contact with her side, her knife dropping to the ground. A hand reached out for the base of her black braid, yanking her head back in a painful position as her knees gave out under her. Her gaze locked with the yellow eyes of the man above that looked back with a twisted smile on his face.   “Finally” he muttered and raised his knife. Though before he stabbed her throat he seemed to change his mind. The knife fell and was swallowed by the tall grass, and his smile widened so that the sharp fangs could be seen in the corners of his mouth.   “I don’t taste very good”. It was the first time she had spoken to him, and a look of surprise passed over his face.   “Let me be the judge of-”. He broke his sentence off with a loud yelp. His grip loosened on her hair, so she easily yanked herself free as she pulled the knife out of the man’s thigh. The broken wood dug splinters into her hand, but she paid it no mind. She was too busy focusing on the man when he yelled something she couldn’t comprehend, and she had to dive away from a punch directed her way.   “Don’t drop your weapon next time, you idiot”, she muttered under her breath, grip tightening over the knife she had picked up from the grass. The man swung a fist at her again and she raised the knife as she stepped away. She was about to dive forward and cut his throat, but out of nowhere something else cut through the air, hitting the man on the side of his face with a loud “clang”. A small noise of surprise left the man’s lips before he fell to the ground. He laid there, limp.   “My yard is a fight-free zone”, a sharp voice snarled at the non-moving man. She lowered  what seemed to be a frying pan, grey eyes finally landing on the other woman. Her gaze narrowed as she studied the bloody knife.   “You want some too?” The woman pointed the frying pan her way. For a moment she could do nothing but stare at the strange woman in front of her, mouth open in surprise. But when the woman tilted her head with a raised eyebrow she finally felt her voice return.   “That’s not needed. I’m not the bad guy here” she said and dropped the knife. It had no use anymore.     The strange woman seemed to contemplate her words before she nodded and lowered her “weapon” once again. Her gaze fell to the limp body as she wrinkled her nose in disgust.   “Please clean your mess before you leave” was all she said before she whirled around and started walking away. It was now that she noticed the dark house at the end of the clearing, towering over them like a giant shadow. A small light shone in one of the windows beside a flimsy backdoor. The strange woman halted a bit outside, dropping the frying pan beside the steps, before she disappeared into the building.     The man made a low sound and she quickly stepped forward, grabbing a wooden pole from her belt. He was laying on his side so she had to kick him over to get to his chest. With a glance towards the house to make sure the strange woman was out of sight, she dove down. The body flinched when the stake dug into it, but he made no sound beside a last ragged breath before he once again went limp. She let go of the pole when she could feel it heating up. As she backed away the body started smoking. The skin turned black like soot before slowly falling together, forming a pile of black dust.     She looked up from the pile to study the house once again. She wondered how she could have missed it before, because it wasn’t small. Even without the small light in the window the moon was enough to make it visible among the trees. It looked old, as if it had stood there long enough to become one with its surroundings, maybe that’s why she hadn’t seen it earlier. It was a strange place, with a just as strange owner.   She just knocked a vampire out with a frying pan… Her eyes widened at the realization. Holy shit.  A small laugh passed her lips before she could stop it, and she tore her gaze away from the house in an attempt to get her thoughts off the incident. She was able to calm down, but a slight smile remained on her face. Though it didn’t stay for long, because when she started walking she almost immediately stopped in her tracks as another thought crossed her mind.   How do I get back? Silently cursing herself for not listening earlier and running after the man on her own, she turned back towards the house. A part of her yelled that it was a terrible idea, but there was no one else to ask. So it was with uncertain steps that she approached the strange building.     The door shook when she knocked on it. Not long after, heavy steps could be heard on the other side followed by the door creaking open. The woman’s grey eyes bore into her, but with less anger than before. They were more tired-looking this time.   “So?” Even her voice sounded tired.   “Do you happen to know the way out of the woods?” She refused to show how stupid she felt asking for help, but it was difficult when the woman rolled her eyes and let out a sigh.   “I don’t even want to know”. The woman threw a glance behind her before slowly stepping away. “Just come in”.

    The room they were standing in was a small kitchen. Wooden shelves filled with jars in different sizes hung on the yellow walls, that probably used to be white. The fridge and freezer had started to lose their white color too. Right in front of her stood a kitchen island, its wood painted bright blue with messy strokes, and to the left stood an old oven among red painted counters with drawers and cabinets. The woman stood at the end of the kitchen island with her arms crossed over her chest.   “If I try and explain it you’ll just get lost. So let’s wait for the sun” she said and nodded towards the small table in the corner. As they both sat down on the rickety chairs the woman suddenly looked towards the hallway. Her eyes softened as she called:   “Go to bed sweetie”. A faint tapping could be heard as someone seemed to leave.

An awkward silence fell over the two as the clock on the wall beside the window ticked away. It was an old thing, like the rest of the room. The woman in front of her had her gaze locked on something outside in the dark. The only light they had was the oil lamp between them and two candles on the kitchen island. They did light up the room quite a lot though, and the strange woman. She didn’t know if the woman knew that she was staring or not, but if she did, she didn’t seem to mind. It was hard not to stare. The woman was wearing wide, bright blue pants with white polka dots on them, together with a loose tank top, but it was the jacket that was the weird part. It was made out of worn, pink leather and seemed to be both too big and too small at the same time, because it barely reached her hips but the sleeves had to be pulled up not to cover her pale hands.   “You done?” She flinched as the woman suddenly decided to talk, but the grey eyes weren’t even looking at her.   “Not really”. Her gaze fell on the short brown locks framing the round face. The answer must have humored the woman because her thin lips formed a smirk.   “Do you want tea?” The question surprised her, and she tore her eyes away from the sharp nose she had been studying.   “Tea?”   “Leaf water?” She stood up from her chair and walked over to the kitchen island. “Yes or no?”   “Uh, yes”.

    The woman reached towards a cabinet, but before opening it and grabbing a teapot she knocked three times. Bewildered the other woman watched her do this again before pulling out a couple of boxes she assumed had tea in them. Though before she could question the strange behaviour the woman started talking again.   “I seem to confuse you a lot, but you are just as strange to me. I don’t even know your name”.   “Oh, it’s Vinh”.   “I’m Peggy”. A white teapot with flower patterns on it was placed on the stove. “So Vinh, what brings you into my woods?”   “Well you just knocked it out with a frying pan”. She shrugged and watched as Peggy sat down on her chair again, a small smirk on her face.   “It was a good pan”. Silence followed and they both went back to staring at nothing in particular. Vinh was glaring at the clock as worried thoughts filled her mind. She was trying to come up with believable lies in case Peggy decided to question her more. So far she had nothing.     The sound of Peggy’s steps pulled her out of her thoughts, and she watched her go and lift the teapot off the stove, but before she turned around to walk back she looked down at the cabinets at her feet.   “Ssch I know it’s late. Go back to sleep”. Her voice was soft, almost a whisper as she spoke. She then knocked on a cabinet above her and took out two different cups and brought it all over to the table.   “Who are you talking to?” Vinh hadn’t asked last time because she assumed it was a child, but Peggy’s behaviour started to be a bit unnerving.   “Hm?” The tea was poured into the cups as steam rose towards the ceiling. She took the yellow cup for herself and pushed the red one over the table towards Vinh. It smelled like berries.   “You said something earlier. Why?”   “Oh. My children”. The answer surprised Vinh who were just about to take a sip of her tea, but froze with the cup leaning against her lips. She quickly pulled herself together though and tasted the beverage.   “You... you have kids?” It felt like a rock had gotten stuck in her throat, weighing her words down.   They didn’t see, did they? She had been worried when she had heard those faint steps earlier, but it seemed like the house had more eyes than she thought.   “A few, yeah”. The softness was back in Peggy’s voice, but even though she was looking straight at Vinh it seemed as if her mind was somewhere else. Vinh could only feel her throat tightening around the rock. “A few” usually meant more than two. There was still something that bugged her though.   “You spoke to the cabinet?”   “They-” Peggy had decided to start talking just as she brought her cup to her lips, so she stopped to swallow the tea. “They like to hide”.   “In the cabinets?” Vinh wasn’t sure if children actually did that, especially in the middle of the night, but when Peggy nodded with a smile on her face she decided not to question it. She had things to hide too, after all.

As the minutes passed by Vinh started to get tired. The clock had just passed midnight when she first felt herself sink lower in her seat. Her cup stood empty on the table, together with the refilled yellow one. Peggy had abandoned it though, leaving it to lose its heat.     They hadn’t said anything in awhile, but neither seemed to feel like talking at the moment. Both had trouble keeping their eyes open. The silence worried Vinh though, and kept her from actually falling asleep. She tried to put herself in Peggy’s position, alone with her children in a house surrounded by woods, and a stranger turning up in her backyard trying to kill a, in her eyes, human.   Why is she so quiet about it. She doesn’t seem to care at all.   “Yeah I’m not doing this”. Peggy’s words were sudden but Vinh was too tired to even flinch. She watched her stand up and stretch her arms above her head, yawning loudly.   “I won’t do anything. Get some sleep” Vinh said and nodded towards the hallway.   “You can use my couch” Peggy started, but had to pause for another yawn. “It’s in the room across the hall”.   “I’m fine thanks”. It was an obvious lie that Peggy easily could see through, but she only looked down at her with a raised eyebrow before slowly leaving the room.   “Oh and-” She stopped just outside the kitchen, waiting for Vinh to turn around and look at her. “If you open any doors, please knock on them”.   “Why-”.   “Just do it”. With that she finally left and disappeared around the corner, leaving Vinh alone with the ticking clock.   Fuck it. As soon as the sound of Peggy’s steps died out she stood up and marched over to the cabinets. Her eyes locked onto the one at her feet. Maybe she was too curious for her own good and something bad would come out of this, but she didn’t have the energy to care. Sure, she had big things to hide too and wasn’t exactly the most normal… person out there but, at least she didn’t talk to cabinets.     With a sigh she bent down and knocked shortly on the wood. Nothing happened, but she hadn’t expected it to. It creaked a bit when she opened it and peered in. It was full of different pots and what looked like mortar and pestles, though she had a hard time seeing anything with only candles behind her. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary though, just normal kitchenware.     Confused she stood up once again, closing the cabinet with her foot. She then proceeded to knock and open the rest, even the drawers. Maybe she didn’t have to knock on them too, but she did so anyway. She felt stupid for doing it but somehow she had a feeling that the woman would know if she ignored the rules, even though she was in another room and out of earshot.     In the end, she found nothing. Just more kitchenware and food. Well at least until she opened a bigger cabinet beside the fridge, and in her tired rush forgot to knock. Her eyes grew as she watched something move in the corner, something that looked an awfully lot like a feathered tail disappearing into a bag of chips. Faster than she could even process what she had seen she closed the door.   Must have been a rat. She thought. It’s dark and I’m tired. It was just a normal rat.

After sitting at the table for a while, just staring at nothing and ignoring the cabinet beside her, she finally decided that some sleep would be good. She kept imagining weird creatures watching her from the corners of the room, making her feel very stupid but still uncomfortable. Sleeping also meant that time would move faster.     The living room was bigger than the kitchen, but not by much. A couch stood against the wall to the right, facing an old television on a low table. The walls were dark green with lighter stripes, and the wooden floor looked almost black in the dark.     She had been smart enough to bring the oil lamp from the kitchen, and was extra careful with knocking before opening the heavy door. The lamp was placed on the wooden table in front of the couch where it could light up most of the room. She could now see that the fabric she was about to lay down on was red and looked very soft. Her eyes felt even heavier just looking at it, and she fell down with a rather loud thud. She didn’t have it in her to care though, and only snuggled up into the white pillows with a content sigh.

*

As the sun rays peeked into the room through the thick curtains they found their way to Vinh’s sleeping form. Her eyelids shook at the light, and she let out a low groan at being woken up. She had slept well, better than most nights. It was weird, considering she was laying on a stranger’s couch. The red fabric had been just as soft as she had predicted, almost making it impossible to sit up and leave its warmth. But she was able to tear herself away and stand up on the creaking floor.     A thud from somewhere outside the room caught her attention as she stretched her arms above her head. Something that sounded like a chair being dragged across the floor followed, together with soft footsteps. She assumed it was Peggy, so with heavy legs she walked over to the door. Somehow a voice in the back of her mind remembered to knock before stepping out into the hallway.     Like she thought she found Peggy in the kitchen standing on a chair in front of the windows. It seemed like she was tying something to the rod that held up the light-blue curtains.   “Morni-” A cough tore through her throat before she could finish the word, and a sharp pricking irritated her nose. It was almost painful to breathe. “Wha-what is that?”   “Sorry?” Peggy’s voice was sharper when it wasn’t weighed down by fatigue. The grey eyes landed on Vinh’s coughing form, looking at her with a weird mixture of worry and interest.   “What is that smell?” She couldn’t really tell what it smelled like, only that it wasn’t nice to breathe. The coughing calmed down as she took more careful breaths, but the prickling feeling stayed.   “I don’t know what you’re talking about”. She sounded sincere, but something told Vinh that a lie was hiding behind the voice. Peggy didn’t seem to see or care about her suspicious gaze, because she calmly jumped down from the chair with a thud. It was then that Vinh noticed the small, red bags hanging in the windows, and as her gaze fell on them her throat felt tighter for a moment.   “What are those for?” She questioned.   “To keep evil away” Peggy answered while dragging the chair back to the table.   “Evil?”   “You know, bad spirits, werewolves…” Her gaze locked with Vinh’s. “Vampires”.     It was as if someone had thrown ice cold water over her, leaving her limbs frozen in place. She couldn’t help the frightened look that took over her face, eyes wide open and lips parted as if words wanted to come out but the voice had left. Peggy clearly noticed the panic, because she held her hands up with a wry smile on her lips.   “I don’t have a frying pan” she said as the smile turned into a smirk. Vinh could feel her heartbeat calm down a bit and it got easier to breathe, though whatever the bags contained still clawed at her throat.     “You knew”. It was more of a statement than a question, but Peggy still nodded.   “Well I had my suspicions, but I wanted to be sure” she looked over at the bags for a moment before lowering her hands. “I am surprised though…”   “Why?”   “You caught your breath pretty quickly”. The grey eyes no longer had worry in them, only interest.   “I’m…” She sighed, pulling out a chair beside her. “I haven’t turned”.   “Oh?” Peggy looked more interested than ever. She sat down after Vinh, both using the same chairs as the night before. “You’re a middle?”   “Aha”. Another sigh left her lips before a cough took over, ripping through her throat.   “Not living, nor undead” Peggy mumbled to herself. A far away look washed over her eyes even though they were fixed at Vinh’s dark ones. They sat like that for a while, quiet and unsure. Well, at least Vinh fidgeted in her chair, anxiety growing together with a heavy rock in her stomach. She had no idea what to do, or what to say. So far she was just grateful that Peggy hadn’t made a move to attack, but she still felt as if something bad was going to happen. She was also confused, and surprised, that she wasn’t in the middle of a fight right now. There was a reason that she had kept it hidden after all. Most people, not even those that called themselves her friends, would react as calmly to learning about this hidden part of her.   “I can take those down if you want”. Vinh flinched when Peggy suddenly decided to start talking again, and it took a while before the words started to sink in.   “No need. I’m about to leave anyway” she said as she rubbed at her sore throat. “By the way, what’s in them?”   “Herbs”.   “They’re really strong”. She started to feel suspicious, but didn’t let it show. One wrong move and Peggy might decide to do something violent after all.   “Indeed” Peggy hummed, still staring at her as if she was watching an interesting film. Vinh kept quiet for a while until she started to get really tired of feeling like a zoo-animal.   “You done?” She imitated the words Peggy had said the night before, but unlike her she didn’t smirk when Peggy answered.   “Not really”. Vinh rolled her eyes and leaned back in the chair, still feeling the gaze locked on her.   “Are you going to tell me the way out or not?”   “Of course I will”. She almost sounded offended. “I said I would, didn’t I?”   “Yeh but so far all you’ve done is stare at me”.   “And you haven’t?” Peggy scoffed as she also leaned back, arms crossed over her chest. She was still wearing that pink jacket, but a black t-shirt peaked out under it this time. Vinh could hear a chuckle and realized that she had been staring again.   “I think that answers my question” Peggy said with a smirk on her lips. Vinh didn’t say anything and glanced at the clock instead that was ticking beside her. She noted that it was close to nine in the morning.   They must wonder where I am. Her team had been left behind when she ran off by herself, ignoring their shouts about it being stupid and useless. He’s gone. It wasn’t so useless after all, huh. She of course also now ignored that maybe she wouldn’t have been able to finish the job if it weren’t for Peggy, but her team didn’t have to know that. It was probably best if she kept quiet about the woman all together. She seemed to be living a secluded life here, and why disturb that peace?     Peggy’s eyes eventually left Vinh’s form and gazed over at something in the hallway instead. The smirk turned into something softer and a thoughtful expression fell on her face.   “Your… condition.” She paused to meet her gaze once again. “It’s a secret?”   “Yes. A well kept one until now” Vinh answered with a sigh. She wasn’t worried about it getting out considering this woman lived in the middle of nowhere and probably didn’t run into others that often.   “Since I know yours, I guess you should know mine. A secret for a secret”.   “I didn’t tell you mine though. You figured it out yourself” Vinh said, but the interest was evident in her voice.   “That is true. But I feel like I owe you now”. Vinh bit back her words, not wanting to point out that she was really the one in debt since Peggy had let her stay over the night. Instead she said something very different.   “So, what is it? A secret torture chamber?” Peggy laughed at that, holding a hand over her mouth in an attempt to quiet down.   “No. No torture chamber” she said after calming down a bit. “Sadly”.   “Then what is it?”   “If we’re going to be fair, you should figure it out by yourself, don’t you think?”   “Huh?” She tilted her head in confusion as Peggy smirked again.   “I figured out yours, so you should figure out mine”.   “I…” Her eyes fell on the clock again as it struck nine. “I don’t have time for games”.     Peggy looked disappointed, smirk fading away. But before it could leave fully she started grinning instead, something sly in her eyes.   “But you can’t go back if I don’t help”. Vinh stared at her, wide eyed.   “What… But…” She had trouble seeing the logic in the situation. Nothing about this woman made sense. “You mean that you want me to play detective and figure out your secret, and then you’ll help me get out of these woods?”   “Yes?” Now it was Peggy that looked confused.   “Where do you get anything out of this?”   “Entertainment”. It clicked then for Vinh. It made sense now. Peggy must be really bored, and she was probably the only person she had met in a very long time. At least if you didn’t count her children.   Wait…   “Where are your kids?” She asked, but Peggy ignored her question.   “You’re free to roam the house” she said, grin just as wide as before. Vinh stared at the white teeth, wondering how it was possible to keep them that clean, but then she realized she was staring again and instead focused on the words.   “You want me to snoop around? Go through your stuff?”   “Didn’t you say that you’re in a hurry?” She tilted her head a bit, completely unaffected by the glare Vinh sent her way before standing up with a huff.   “If I scare any kids it’s your fault” she muttered as she left the room. Peggy chuckled behind her, loud enough for her to hear even when she turned a corner and was met with a flimsy looking door. The hallway went further, but she decided to start with this one and take the other rooms later.     With a sigh she took a hold of the cold handle and pushed it open, just to be met with darkness. What she thought had been a room proved to be a stairway leading down below ground. It didn’t take long for her to abruptly close the door again.   No thanks. No torture chamber for me. She wouldn’t walk down into a dark hole unless she really had to, and right now she had other options.     The next door she tried led to a small room, a bedroom, to be more precise. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. A bed stood against the green wall, covered by different colored blankets. A bright green carpet laid on the floor with its corners folded, something that irked Vinh more than it should. She stopped herself before she fixed them though, and closed the door instead. There had been nothing in there to look at anyway.     She kept going through the other rooms. One had been another small bedroom, only in reds and blues instead of greens, and then a bathroom with a really ugly cabinet. Why Peggy had painted it with that awful shade stuck between green and yellow, was beyond her. She thought that color was mutually hated by everyone. Apparently she had been wrong.     The next room she got to was a third bedroom, only bigger this time. It had a double bed with a pink frame. A color that made her think of that leather jacket Peggy seemed to live in. All the blankets had been thrown on the floor, and the duvet laid messely on the mattress together with some blue pillows. To her right stood some drawers, some open with clothes hanging out of them, threatening to fall to the floor. She sighed when nothing captured her interest, and made a move to close the door again. But then something moved.   What… Immediately she swung the door open wide and stared at the blankets laying on the floor. There was something there, something moving. Something alive. She remembered the night before; the cabinet with the strange tail, and felt a shiver run down her spine.   A rat. An old house like this must have rats. Now, she wasn’t afraid of rats, never had been, but there was something about this particular rat that made her want to turn on her heels and leave. Another part of her though wanted to inspect the living thing. She took a step towards the pile, hand falling from the door handle. Something about this situation felt terribly unsettling, but she shoved that feeling away and walked over to the blankets, eyes locked on the corner where the movements had started again.   You’re a hunter. You can kill a damn rat. With a sigh she lifted her foot to push the blankets away, but just as she was about to lower it a flash of fur shot out over the floor like a green lightning. Bewildered she watched it disappear out the door.   That wasn’t a rat. Rats weren’t green, and they didn’t have horns. Definitely not a rat. She stared at it. Mouth open. Thoughts whirling in her head. Lungs screaming for air- Wait what? She hadn't noticed that she had been holding her breath, and she coughed as she finally dragged in some air.     Her thoughts were still running wild like a never ending storm, but she could feel her feet move towards the hall once again. She didn’t know what to think. A part of her wanted to believe that it had been a rat like she first had thought, but the more rational part, the one that trusted her eyes, screamed that something was going on here, and she had an idea of what that might be.     With another deep breath she closed the door behind her and walked over to the last door, the one she had opened first of them all. She actually wished that a torture chamber waited in the darkness at the bottom of the stairs. That would be easier to deal with, easier to handle.     She couldn’t see a lightswitch anywhere, or a candle, but she couldn’t be scared of the dark. With a hand touching the wall she took a step down, and then another, and then one more, only to hurriedly stumble back up when she felt something brushing her leg. Something soft, something sharp and extremely painful.     Her shout must have been heard all the way to the kitchen, because not long after she had thrown herself out in the hallway, gripping her bleeding leg, Peggy came running around the corner.   “You didn’t knock”. She fell to her knees where Vinh was sitting and reached for the wound, but Vinh moved away.   “Don’t touch me” she hissed through gritted teeth. Peggy sighed and held her hands up, worry clear in her eyes.   “I’ll make it better. It hurts, doesn’t it?” Vinh seemed to consider her options, forehead wrinkled in pain and thought.   “F-fine” she eventually said and let go of her leg. This time when Peggy reached out she didn’t move, not even when her black pants were folded up and something cold was smeared over what looked like a bleeding bite. She hadn't been kidding though, because only seconds after the blue mixture had been applied the pain started to fade away. It also seemed to stop the bleeding.   “What... What the fuck was that?” She hated that her voice was shaking, but she blamed it on her anger instead of the chock.   “She doesn’t like it when you don’t knock” was Peggy’s calm answer.   “For once in you goddamn life, give me a straight answer!”   “I told you to knock”. Vinh’s anger didn’t phase her at all. The grey eyes were as calm as ever, and that smirk had even started to fall back on those lips.   “This isn’t funny”.   “I’m not laughing at you”. It was then that Vinh noticed that Peggy was looking at something behind her, something that apparently was very amusing. She quickly turned her head to gaze down the hallway, but she almost wished she hadn’t. There, on the windowsill, sat a huge chipmunk staring back at her. It was the size of a lapdog. But it wasn’t really a chipmunk at all, it only resembled one. The fur was curlier and a bright shade of orange, almost glowing. The eyes looked like two black holes in contrast to it. She couldn’t see if it had arms, but she guessed that they were hidden in the thick fur. Behind it laid a long fluffy tail with a darker end. Vinh’s staring seemed to have reminded it of something, because it broke their staring contest to instead start picking at its tail. She had been right. It had arms.   “That’s not a rat” she mumbled, still chocked. “And it’s not green…”   “Nope” Peggy said cheerfully while crossing her legs. Vinh looked at her with her wide eyes.   “Where’s the green one?” She asked and Peggy pointed over her shoulder.   “In the kitchen. You scared him quite a bit”.   “Oh. I’m sorry”. The chock had started to fade away but she still had trouble grasping the situation.   “The ‘not rat’ has a name by the way”. Peggy still sounded as cheerful as ever, a soft smile on her lips as she observed the creature in the window. “I call her Dusty”.   “Why?” She looked over at the chipmu-...at Dusty again. It seemed to be pulling on the fur at the end of its, her, tail.   “She likes to keep things clean. She’s like my housemaid”.   “She bit me”.

Peggy chuckled, earning another glare from Vinh that still very much could feel some pain in her leg.   “She gets frightened easily. You have to knock or you’ll startle her when you enter a room”.   “If you had said that I would be attacked if I didn’t knock, I would have remembered it way better you know” Vinh huffed and started to try and get back on her feet. It seemed like she could put pressure on her leg without feeling any sharp shots of pain. Peggy chuckled again as she also stood up.   “True, true”. Dusty noticed their movements and stared at them once again. Vinh stared back, but Peggy smiled and spoke to her with a soft voice.   “Don’t worry sweetie, we won’t disturb you anymore”. At that Dusty turned back to her tail and Peggy started walking towards the kitchen. Vinh threw a last glance towards the “not rat” before following behind, thoughts still a mess.

As they entered the kitchen something green flew across the room, landing on Peggy’s shoulder with a squeak.   “Calmed down now?” Peggy’s voice still had that softness in it that had Vinh feel weirdly at ease. She stared at the thing that almost had given her a heart attack earlier. It almost looked like a rat, but with bigger ears and two small, but sharp, horns on its forehead. A long tail swung from side to side, and a pair of wings hung folded on its back. So not really anything like a rat. The face resembled one a little bit, only with a shorter nose and no whiskers.   “This is Robert” Peggy explained while petting at one of its legs. “He likes to hide and steal all my shit”.   “Aha…”. Robert seemed to be ignoring her, only looking at Peggy with round blue eyes. “How many of them do you have?”   “I have seven children total” she answered with a smile. “Some are out at the moment, though I think Chip is in here somewhere…”   “Chip?” She watched as Peggy went up to a cabinet, the one beside the fridge, and opened it after knocking on it shortly.   “You in here sweetie?” Something rustled, and then a head peeked out around the door, black eyes locked at Vinh’s frozen form. Peggy chuckled and grabbed… whatever it was, and closed the cabinet again. She held up the creature in front of her, letting Vinh study it from a distance. It was covered in feathers, and she realized that this must be what she had seen the night before when she noticed the long tail. The face resembled a bird, and it seemed like its front legs had wings attached to them. She had to admit that the feathers were beautiful. Green, blue and purple ones melted together, almost shimmering in the sunlight.   “So this is Chip?” She kept her gaze locked with the creature, refusing to lose this weird game they seemed to have started. It almost looked like it was staring back with amusement in its eyes, something close to mockery.   “Yup! Pretty, isn’t he?” She refused to admit that the thing currently making fun of her was anything close to pretty, so she didn’t answer Peggy’s question.   “This is illegal. I don’t know how you got these creatures but they aren’t supposed to roam free” she said instead, suddenly remembering why she had been so afraid of this happening. “I should take you in”.   “Sure” Peggy smirked and started petting Chip who kept staring. “Sucker”.   “Don’t call me that”. The word made her involuntarily flinch. “I don’t drink”.   “That’s good. I would knock you out otherwise”. She nodded towards a cabinet that Vinh knew had frying pans in them.   “Well, you can try”.   “That I can”.

They stared at each other once a silence fell over the room. Vinh with a question in her eyes and Peggy with amusement, but also a little bit of worry hiding behind it. She kept petting Chip, who had given up the staring contest, happy with his win when Vinh broke the gaze. Robert had jumped down on the table and was currently rolling a candle across the wood, squeaking once in awhile.     In the end it was Peggy that broke the silence, sounding less calm than usual.   “You’re not serious, are you?” It took awhile for Vinh to understand what she meant, but it eventually clicked together and she sighed while rubbing her face.   “No, I’m not taking you in”. She let her hands fall back to her sides. “A secret for a secret”.   “That’s good. I wouldn’t let you put my children in danger”. Peggy smiled with something dangerous in her eyes. “I don’t want to hurt you”.   “I don’t feel like hurting you either. Not after helping me like you have”. That sinister look washed away at Vinh’s words and the air didn’t feel as heavy as before. She hadn't even noticed the charged atmosphere until now.   “Speaking of which”. Peggy put Chip down on the table beside Robert and stalked over to the door. “I still haven’t fulfilled my promise, have I?”     Vinh looked over at the two creatures on the table where they had started rolling the candle back and forth between them, cheerfully playing a made up game together. She almost didn’t feel like leaving. This house seemed to hold many secrets and she had only just learned one of them. These creatures were either supposed to be all captured or extinct, the books they had made her read all said so at least. But, here they were. In some weird woman’s home.   For fuck sake, just go! With a sigh she followed Peggy outside, hearing the rhythmic sound of the game behind her before the door closed and she couldn’t hear it anymore. With a last glance towards the frying pan that still laid abandoned in the grass she walked to the end of the clearing, Peggy a bit in front of her.   “So…” Peggy said when they both stopped at the first tree, arms crossed over her chest. “It’s pretty easy. Walk east until you get to a stream, then follow it north. You should eventually get to a lake outside of the woods then”.     Vinh only nodded and looked over her shoulder towards the house. Now when she knew it was there, and when the sun shone its light on the dark wood, she could see it clearly among all the greens.   “If you don’t you’ll get bitten again”. Peggy was smirking when she met her gaze.   “Ha. Ha.” She said dryly and rolled her eyes. “I won’t forget, alright”.   “You better not”. An awkward silence followed, but Vinh refused to let it settle.   “Well I’ll go now” she said and flinched at how weird it sounded.   “Yeah” Peggy sighed as she watched her walk in between the trees. “I’ll go back to my torture chamber”.    Vinh couldn’t help but let out a laugh at that, and she stopped in her tracks to turn around before Peggy could start walking away.   “Thank you, by the way” she said and started walking backwards. Peggy smiled in response, but that soon turned into a smirk when Vinh turned her back to her with a last goodbye. “You should seriously rename your kids. I feel sorry for them.”

She could hear her laugh even when she reached the stream, and it still rung in her ears as she saw the lake between the trees, welcoming her out of the woods.  I still can’t believe she knocked out a vampire with a frying pan.

[scribomaniac]

Man of Ash and Thorns: Chapter 10

The sun had set by the time Reyna walked into Bellevue Hospital. Hospitals at night were so much creepier than they were during the day. There was a quiet in the halls that made the Sorceress look over her shoulder multiple times as she walked towards her destination. A florescent light flickered off and on, casting dark, ominous shadows on the off-white walls.

Slipping into room 333, Reyna stopped at the foot of the patient's bed. "I was wondering when you'd show up," Bub said as he stepped out of the shadows behind her. The room had no windows to the outside, and the only light shining on the two of them came from the machines monitoring the patient's health. "Is everything okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, traffic was just . . ." sighing, Reyna started again. "Look, I'm sorry to call you so late—and with Hannah being so pregnant, but I—I need your help. Yours and Sam's."

Bub's brows furrowed and he took a step closer, "What's happened?"

Shaking her head, Reyna turned back to the patient, "No—I mean, first just let me summon Sam." The patient in front of her was William Freeman, the body Samyaza had possessed all those months ago. Grabbing the catatonic man's wrist, the Sorceress looked over her shoulder, "Watch the door." Summoning a small exacto knife from her apartment, she made the small incisions on both her forearm and the patient's. His blood was used to create Samyaza's summoning circle, and her was used to draw a binding circle over the summoning one. Placing her hand over the two bloody marks, Reyna whispered the incantation and mixed the seals.

A light flashed, bright and blinding, and then the body gasped and began to thrash about. Reyna stepped back, waiting for the episode to end. His eyes opened and blinked. Once, twice, then after the third time Reyna found herself looking into the black eyes of a Devil. "What," Samyaza breathed out slowly, "the fuck?"

"How do you feel?" Bub asked his brother over his shoulder so he could keep watch by the door.

"Like shit." Sam responded before trying to sit up.

"The muscles have started losing their strength I guess," Reyna mused. She made a mental note to study human muscles more. She knew that the last time they'd used Freeman's body, he'd only been catatonic for a few weeks, so it wasn't too big a deal. This time, though, it'd been a few months. Maybe she should start summoning Sam more often to stop the decay and make it easier for him to move about. Shaking her head quickly, she pushed those thoughts aside for later. She had more pressing concerns at the moment.

Bub, deciding the coast was officially clear, stepped up to his brother to help him up and out of bed. "So you ready to tell us what's going on?" He asked, his blue eyes glinting dangerously in the dark. He looked ready for a fight and Reyna knew she just had to point in it's general direction and he'd jump into it head first.

"I need your help. Lilith, the Queen of—"

"Vampires," Sam snorted as he took a few tentative steps. "We know who she is."

Barely holding back an eye roll, Reyna continued. "She's been kidnapped—or something. She's in trouble down in New Orleans."

"So?" Sam asked, now doing a few lunges to stretch out his legs.

"So, I made a deal with her," Reyna said slowly. "If something happened to her, I'd find her—insurance, she called it."

"And you agreed to that?" Bub asked incredulously. "Why?"

"She went down there to look for a mutual friend." Reyna shrugged, "I'm invested."

"All right, and what do you need us for?"

"The people who've taken her . . . I don't know them. I don't know what tricks they have up their sleeves or who they consider allies. I don't know if I'm powerful enough alone to take them on." Sam snorted again, but Reyna continued, "So I need the two of you to have my back down there."

"Whatever," Sam said, rolling his shoulders, "I can't imagine anything down there powerful enough to actually challenge your power, witch," he smirked, teasing, "much less all three of us, but it makes no difference to me. What to we get out of it?"

"It depends," Reyna said slowly. "On who we face. Oh, don't give me that look, Samyaza!" His lip had curled at her words, "I can't specify what type of souls you'll be feasting on . . . just that it will be souls."

"So you're telling me that you don't care what we're facing down there . . . Werewolves, Fae, Vampires . . . even other witchlings like yourself? If they're involved in the Fanged-Bitch's kidnapping then they're ours?"

Reyna nodded, "Lilith may have something special in mind for whoever orchestrated this, but yes. I don't care what sort of creatures have her—their souls are yours."

A viscous snarl of a smile cut across Sam's face, and even Bub looked thirsty with anticipation. The brother's looked at each other and nodded. Sam clapped his hands together, "Say no more—lead us to the buffet!"

It took just under six hours for Reyna and her Devils to make it to to the airport, catch their plane, and land in New Orleans. Reyna was a bundle of nervous energy the entire way, but she had to force herself to be patient. Even she couldn't make time go by faster, nor could she magic the distance away. Flying was by far the fastest option, and yet she couldn't help feel like it still wasn't fast enough. Bub and Sam used the time to catch up with each other, talking about everything from the Demons and Spirits in their realm to how Hannah was doing. Reyna was relieved to discover she and Bub had been spending the week at her family's home, so at least the mother to be wouldn't be alone for the next few days while Bub was away. The two brothers even tried to distract her, asking about her shop and Liam. When she told them Morax was tasked with looking after the young Were, Sam couldn't help the disgusting, full bellied laughter that escaped him. He laughed so hard he even cried a bit.

Reyna was thankful for them. Although she couldn't stop the incessant tapping of her foot on the floor of the plane, their conversation did help take the edge off and make the trip go by faster. Soon enough, just past one in the morning, their plane landed, and by two they were in a cab heading towards the heart of the city. If the cab driver wondered why his three new patrons had zero luggage, he didn't ask. They drove into the Mid-City neighborhood, near City Park, and got out. The city was still awake and active, which Reyna was grateful for. She didn't want to be caught lurking about and tip off her unknown enemies.

"This will be our base," she told Sam and Bub, pointing to the lively bar behind her. "We'll split up and search the city for any word of Li—" Reyna stopped herself, not knowing who could be listening. She restarted, "any word of the Fanged-Bitch. If you hear anything call the others, if not then we'll meet back here in two hours. Sam, check out the bayous and whatever else is east of them. The Weres might know something, and if not I'm sure there are some Fae or Goblins that'll be willing to make a trade for the information. Bub, check out Seabrook and Little Woods and try to sniff out any Humans or Vampires in the area. I'll stay on this side of the city and see what else I can find. Sound good?"

"It's a big town, Reyna," Bub said without looking at her. His gaze was everywhere else, trying to see what magic lurked beneath the city's busy exterior. "Wouldn't a tracking spell be more efficient?"

Shaking her head, she explained, "It's a gamble, but I'd bet whoever took . . . her has magic on their side to either block a trace or signal them that someone was looking. I don't want to give ourselves away."

"Let them know we're here," Sam said, an arrogant smirk on his face. "I'll enjoy tearing their limbs from their bodies."

"They might not attack, though," Reyna reasoned. "They might run instead, and that's a risk I am not willing to take."

The two Devils nodded in agreement and they dispersed with barely another word. Sam would be his purely demonic self in the bayous. The land was wild and infested with all different sorts of creatures that would give anyone other than a soul thirsty Devil a hard time. Some of the stronger creatures would sense him—sense what he was—and if they were smart they'd steer clear. It'd be good for Sam, to let out some of his pent up aggression and rage there—fun, even. Reyna just hoped he didn't burn everything around him down in his search. Though, if it somehow led to Sophie's safe return, Reyna found she didn't much care what Sam did with the place.

Bub would be more subtle. He'd summon legions of flies from his dimension and have them search his section of the city. They'd seep into every house, car, trash can . . . everything and anything. Nothing would stop their entrance. It'd be much simpler and safer than his brother's methods—so long as nothing tried to stop them. Bub's flies were persistent and would stop at nothing. She'd never seen them in action, but Sam had recounted to her the many times someone tried to hide or block the flies and what those little monsters did in retaliation. They lived off blood and flesh, and would burrow themselves into bodies and carcasses happily if they needed to get through to its other side.

As for her, Reyna knew where she had to go. She could feel the streets singing to her magic, beckoning her to a specific location. She'd heard about it from Donny, back when they were still on speaking terms. Certain bars were crafted to entice the magical community. The bricks used to make the establishment were enchanted to catch the attention of those with close ties to magic and lead them straight to it. A magical bar would be the best place to start her investigation. With every step forward, Reyna could feel her blood singing with excitement and peace—with a sense of belonging. Soon enough, Reyna turned a corner and she felt like she was flying when she stepped up to Sièlce Magnifique.

It was a club. A very popular one, Reyna thought, as she saw the line to get in reach down and around the block. Castors were waiting excitedly to get in. They were all young, like her, and all drawn here by the building's siren song. Reyna took a step closer to the building, figuring she'd wait in line and make it in eventually like the rest, when she caught sight of the bouncer. He wasn't anything special, or out of the ordinary. He looked like a stereotypical bouncer. His white head was shaved, he wore black leather, and he was huge. He was also a Vampire. And he wasn't alone. There were two more up on the roof of the building, one down the street, and one on the other side of the door. Five Vampires wasn't unusual, but five Vampires acting as security? That was suspicious.

Reyna took a step back and gasped as a wave of nausea overcame her. She grunted and took another step back. Another wave of nausea hit her, it was almost like her stomach was trying to turn itself inside out. She took another step, forward this time, and sighed when the feeling disappeared and was immediately replaced with that warm, comforting feeling from before. Frowning, Reyna thought back to Donny and his stories. In none of them did he say that ignoring the magical call would cause a negative side effect. That couldn't be normal.

Looking back at the Castors, Reyna perused their attire and found not a single one of them wore anything to repel a Vampire. Not a single one had markings on their skin to protect themselves. Not a single one had cast a spell over themselves or their friends. That didn't necessarily mean anything, but . . . she walked closer to the line and set her sights on a group of female Castors about her age that were in middle of the long line. "Hi, I'm sorry to bother you, but I was wondering I you knew where I could find Bourbon Street?"

"Oh, I'm sorry," one of the girls said, "We're just visiting—we don't know where anything is!"

"You're all tourists, too, then?" She asked, watching the many people around her nod. A few people in front and behind them nodded as well after she caught their eyes. She walked down the line a bit and asked again. The answer was the same. She tried again, going almost to the end of the line. Tourists, all of them. Catching the eye of one of the Vampire bouncers, Reyna stopped her questioning and instead got in line and pulled out her phone.

Reyna sent a text out to both Bub and Sam, calling them back to her and giving them her current address. By the time they found her, Reyna was almost at the front of the line. Sam arrived looking exhilarated, liberated, completely at ease with everything in the universe. Bub looked a little like that as well, his eyes were alight with danger and adrenaline, but he also had the sense to realize Reyna had stumbled upon something. So, with a frown pulling at his lips, he asked, "What do we have here?"

"A bad ass looking club!" Sam shouted, pumping his fists up into the air. If Reyna didn't know him better, she'd think he was intoxicated. But no, he was just drunk on his own power.

"Notice the security?" She asked under her breath.

"Yeah, they're Vamps," Bub's brow furrowed with confusion. "So?"

"And these people in line," Reyna continued, jerking her chin to the people waiting around them. "What are they?"

"Humans—Castors, I guess. Why does that—"

"Only Castors," Reyna clarified. "And only tourists." The door to the club opened up and the three of them were led inside. The lighting was dark, much too dark for a human's natural eye sight. Music blared from the speakers at a volume higher than anywhere around, making it almost impossible to communicate. Bodies grind and writhed against one another on the dance floor and huddles of people were clustered together in what looked intimate embraces.

Sneering at it all—the flare, the dramatics, the illusions—Reyna felt her magic crackle within her muscles and uncoil deep within her belly. Throwing her hands up, Reyna released a wave of pure magic throughout the building like a great tidal wave in the middle of a once calm ocean. Sparks flew from the massive speakers and the music stopped, only to be replaced by howling screams. Emergency lights flickered once, twice, thrice, before the room was illuminated by bright florescent lights, showing the true nature of the club. The writhing bodies from the dance floor were flailing about, trying to escape the Vampires latched around their necks. The intimate groupings along the side were uncovered to be Vampires finishing off the last of their dried up prey.

Sam let out a low whistle, "Not a club, then."

Bub's jaw dropped, "A slaughter house."

"Yup," Reyna said darkly, looking at all the Vampires in the room and watching as they realized meal had been interrupted. Several began to hiss at them, and Reyna heard something latch into place behind them—the door's lock, most likely. Peripherally, Reyna saw several Vampires stalking towards them and could feel the security Vampire coming up from behind. "Well boys, you wanted souls," she looked up at the two Devils and gestured towards the Vampires, "Think these will do?"

Samyaza smiled down at her, his teeth barring themselves menacingly. He looked like the perfect predator, only perhaps a bit too gleeful at the prospect of the hunt. Blinking, his eyes bled black and he broke eye contact to look at the feast before him. "Oh," he laughed, his smile widening, "This'll do."

Read more here!

Original Works

A03

[aristocate]

i.   much  like  when  he  was  a  kid ,  toulouse  still  scrunches  his  nose  up  when  he’s  grumpy.   sure ,  he  frowns ,  but  the  clearest  and  truest  indicator  that  he’s  grumpy  or  mad  is  when  he  scrunches  his  nose.   the  scrunchier ,  the  angrier .

[aristocate]

i.   toulouse  is  fluent  in  french  and  russian.   he’s  well  acquainted  with  most  french  dialects ;  french  creole  is  his  favorite.   he  does  have  a  slight  french  accent ;  it’s  not  in  your  face ,  but  it’s  present  enough  for  people  to  constantly  ask  him  where are you from ?   because  he  did  a  vast  majority  of  his  uni  schooling  in  england ,  he’s  got  an  odd  mix  of  a  french  and  english  accent.   the  french  really  comes  out  when  he’s  angry ,  though.

[aristocate]

tag drop.   i   ,   toulouse .