(fic) OK, just trying to think of a story for the fic which might be Original like a blend of fantasy and modern stuff let’s see….. It takes place in a magic college for starters. As much as a small fraternity group consisting of nerds (maybe four in total) wanted to be cool and be macho by summoning a large harem of Succubi to get them all the popularity, the sorority neighbouring them had already claimed the Demoinfernatome so they were left with Faerune Consortium instead and summoned a large harem of pixies instead who are more chaotic and unstable compared to Succubi as they’re not bound by pacts. The pixies turn the nerds into either all horny heifers or at least horny animals in general consisting of a cow, sow, ass and ewe? And this might be pushing it but what if the pixies perpetually torment them with their ever-growing arousal?
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The thing with Tommy was, you had about five seconds. That’s it. Five seconds to figure out if you needed Nar-can or a meat wagon. Five seconds to figure out if it was a suicide attempt, or another assignment. It was always the latter, but fear of the former kept the sweat at your brow. You checked his pulse and hunted for a text book in one fluid motion.
It was never far. Always open, with it’s pages earmarked. This semester, he was studying how to astral project past the veil. Last semester, his class had used a spirit board. Same trick, same school of magic. Way fucking different means of doing it. At least with the spirit board, Tommy’s ticker kept on. Which, with my finger pressed to his wrist, I didn’t feel a trace of.
Paulie stood by the door, big barrel chested bastard. His hands cupped either elbow across his massive pecs. He just shook his head and sighed, then lifted his eyes towards the ceiling. His lips moved, but it wasn’t a conversation for the rest of us. It was just for him and the Old Man, which was fine. Except he shot me a glare when I said “Paulie, if you ain’t gonna do anything, move your ass,”
He snapped out of it, then glared at me. “Language,” he spat. But the big fuck moved all the same. I passed him in the hall, and shouted “Keep an eye on him,”
“I know,” said the back of Paulie’s head.
“If he starts breathing-”
“I know, and he’s not. Get Shawn,”
I gave a sigh, and turned back to face the hall. I looked down, and checked my watch. We had maybe forty five seconds to a minute, if that. It all depended on just how deep Tommy had gone in his studies that afternoon. I was at Shawn’s door in a pace, and had just lifted my hand to knock when it opened. Shawn, clad in nothing but his face mask and goggles, peered at me. Out of the room came the smell of sulphur, saltpeter. There was a copper tinge over both, and Shawn’s naked frame was soaked in sweat.
“Oh, hey. Tommy-” I started, only for Shawn to close the door. A half second later it cracked open, and a corked vial was shoved towards me.
“Make him drink it,” came a filtered voice.
“Uh, okay. Thanks,” I said.
I turned on my heel, and sprinted-not ran-down the hall. Shawn’s stuff, you had to be delicate with it. Shake it too much or too little, and it could explode. The glass would shatter, and lacerations could be the least of your problems. You might grow a second head, another arm. Paulie and me, we’d been playing monkey in the middle one time with some. Shawn tried real calmly to tell us to put it down-only for it to shatter right in Paulie’s hand. He lifted it up, and looked over at Shawn.
Shawn just pulled out a pen and paper, and watched as Paulie’s entire arm turned blue. Then his face, his legs.
For his troubles, Paulie got humiliated. Shawn got an A on his pigmentation transmutation paper. Me? I got a black eye when I dared to utter “papa smurf”.
Paulie heard me coming, and stepped aside. His gaze was still high, so deep in his galdr that I could only spy the whites of his eyes. Tommy hadn’t moved. I hadn’t expected him to. While Paulie kept talking to the Old Man, I slipped a hand under my friend’s head. I lifted it up, and pried the cork away with my teeth. By luck, his mouth was open.
“Sorry buddy,” I said under my breath as I spat the cork out, “I ain’t repaying your student loans,”
I tipped the crap, this purple-blue liquid, right past his lips. Paulie went on praying. I tossed the vial to one side, and massaged Tommy’s throat.
Right as Paulie was getting to Uruz, Tommy kicked. His face contorted, and he sat up with a wet, hacking cough. Paulie finally broke his concentration, and rolled up his sleeve. He pressed his lips to his fingers, then rubbed the runes inscribed on his arm. All the while, Tommy just sat there doubled over and hacking. He splayed his hands out on the carpet, and looked up at me with bloodshot eyes.
“I-” he said, only to cough, “-I was almost there. Fuck me, I was almost there,”
I took a deep breath, and patted his back.
“Dude?” I said, “We really gotta get you out of that necromancy course,”
@@@
“Your mom says hi,”
“And she’s still dead, Tommy. More boar?”
“If you please?”
Paule takes the knife from the counter, and wipes it against his apron. He lifts it, and hacks another cut from the slab before him. He turns, and snaps his fingers. I lift Tommy’s plate, and he tosses the chop to it wordlessly. It lands with a greasy smack, and I lay it before Tommy. He gives a nod, and rolls his tongue over his lips. He grabs it right off the plate and sinks his teeth into it. There’s silverware, but times like this, he’s oblivious to it.
It’s his fifth chop since he woke. Shawn’s elixir brought him back, but food and water is what makes him living. So he eats the boar Paulie brought, and Paulie keeps on smoking at the stove. He hasn’t said much since Tommy came back, but he never does.
Tommy didn’t mean anything by it. That about Paulie’s mom. Paulie doesn’t talk about his folks much. Tommy does plenty of that for the both of them. But it always brings this awkward silence from him. I guess it’s a soft spot, but it’s hard to think of a guy that big having any.
Paulie takes a drag, and turns to me. He tilts his head towards the stairs, and says “Shawn coming down, or nah?”
“You know him,” I pipe back. I’m keeping an eye on Tommy-it’s weird, watching him eat. It’s so Romero in execution, you can’t help but question if it’s really him at the table.
Paulie grunts, and takes a step towards the stairs. “Hey, Mr. White! Food!” he bellows. He stands there a minute, knife in hand before he turns back. He shakes his head, and walks back to the massive ribs before him. He gets to work cutting the pork just as boots tromp down the stairs. I turn my head to the hall, and see Shawn there. Rail thin as ever. He’s donned a lab coat, but it’s so cheap of material it’s almost transparent. It’s like looking at an x-ray.
He’s got these two vials in his hands. He’s passing the liquid between them-this emerald green shit-back and forth, back and forth. He walks beside Paulie, and tosses one of the vials into the sink. Paulie turns, his cherry flaring as he takes him in.
“Got real food here. Plenty of it,” he barks, but Shawn shakes his head. He tilts his head back, and swallows the mix. He grimaces as he does, the other vial hitting the sink with a clink. His mouth opens, his tongue rolling out of it as he scowls.
“I’m good man,” he rasps. Paulie snorts as Shawn pulls out a chair, and takes a seat.
“Bullshit,” Paulie says, “When’s the last time you had a meal?”
“Freshman year. Solid foods mean digestion, which means time wasted. That was everything I needed. I’m fine,”
Paulie rolls his eyes and mutters something in scandinavian. He goes back to cutting the hog, and I shoot Shawn a smile. I hooked a thumb towards Tommy, whose sitting there patting his stomach.
“Chalk up another win for formulas,” I say. Shawn waves the comment away, and leans in close. His eyes narrow on Tommy.
“How are you feeling?” he says.
Tommy laughs, and patted his stomach. “Oh, good. Albert says you’re still wrong,”
For just a second, I see Shawn’s face fall. Then Shawn laughs, and his wry lips spread into a smile. “Well, that’s nice. I’m glad to see you’re up. Remember, if there are any side effects, you need to-”
“Shawn,” says Tommy, cupping a hand to his mouth. He lets out a burp, then frowns as he swallows. “I’m fine, dude. Seriously. Nothings happened since the first time, okay?”
Shawn nods, then leans back in his chair. “Damned rigor mortis. I’m just surprised we reversed it. Not unhappy we did, but-”
I snort, and say “-bullshit you’re unhappy. That grant came through, didn’t it?”
Shawn smirks, and rolls his shoulders. “Well, what’s alchemy if we can’t save a life? Right?”
“HAH. Fuck that,” shouts Paulie. I turn to see him stubbing out his cigarette in the sink. There’s a massive plate of boar-chops before him. He wipes his hands on his apron, and turns towards us. Leaning against the counter, he says “The first fucking goal of your discipline was turning lead into gold! Come the fuck on man,”
Shawn frowns, and twists in the chair to face him. “We’ve been over this, Paul. And if I remember correctly, your discipline started as a death cult. Wanna talk about that?”
Paulie, he’s a big fuck. A real big fuck. He was here on a weight lifting scholarship from the armpit of Nowhere, Vaguely European. So when he lets out a snarl and takes a step from the counter? That’s my sign to leave the room. I push my chair back, and clap a hand on Tommy as I pass from the kitchen. Paulie and Shawn, they’re not screaming yet. As I find the stairs and grip the rail, I hear insults in Scandinavian. A plate smashes, and Shawn says “Oh that’s just like your kind, isn’t it? Let’s crack a few skulls, that solves EVERYTHING doesn’t it?!”
One step, five. I top the stairs, and take a breath at the height of the landing. I close my eyes, and turn towards my room blind. I find the door handle by habit, the metal warm against my palm. It turns, and the smell of sulfur washes over me as I step within. The door closes on its own terms, not mine. It nips the back of my heel, but otherwise closes without a noise.
Only then do I open my eyes, and look upon my work.
@@@
Tommy, Paulie, Shawn.
They’re smarter than they sound, really. Despite the argument downstairs, they’re good guys. Tommy scares the shit out of me with his stunts, but he’s always the first to laugh about it. Paulie cooks like nobody’s business-and it’s good to have guys like him around. Shawn, well. What he lacks in people skills he makes up for in other ways. He’s useful. That’s a good way to describe him.
All of them though, they butt heads. They jab fingers, yell. Stomp. Scream. It’s the same macho posturing bullshit you’d find in other frats. Oh, I’m going to get paid XYZ dollars. Yeah, well I’m going into Blah Blah field. These arguments, I’d heard them since freshman year. Moving in had raised frequency, but not the fervor. When you’re sleeping a few hours a day? When you really, honestly think your entire future is on the line over a single grade?
You see if you don’t seek validation over petty things. Double dog dare you.
The thing is, they complimented each other just as much as they argued. Shawn used Tommy to test brews. Fuck, if he killed him, it’s not like he couldn’t bring him back. Tommy needed Paulie to make sense of what he saw. Paulie sometimes used Tommy in his shaman practices. All three, they worked. They fit like links in a chain.
Except for me.
When it came to my studies, the “unspoken arts” were left that. I’d told them a single time freshman year, and they hadn’t asked since. They had warmed up to me, sure. But they still didn’t ask me for help. More like, I was the hands and eyes between them. I relayed messages, gave scrawled test results and accounts. I’d offered to use my discipline before. Several times, at that. But the boys always gave some bullshit excuse.
Paulie, he’d scrunched his face and resolutely turned me down. Tommy didn’t say anything, just looked at me wide-eyed. And Shawn, he just laughed.
I viewed the frat as a good litmus test for how most treated demonology. That’s what my field was.
It gets a bad rap, too. I mean sure, in a specific viewpoint, demons are evil. I guess. But it’s no more or less odd than others. At least, that’s what I told myself. Standing in the chalk circle at the center of my room? It happened again. That nagging, clawing thing since I told student planning my major.
I doubted, if all for a second, what I was doing.
But I sat down, I crossed my legs. I fumbled in my pocket for my knife, a small Case folder with a bone handle. I flicked the blade open, and closed my eyes.
I breathed in, and began to speak.
“I come again to talk, to council. I offer a part of myself for a moment of wisdom. I beseech thee, all those-”
“Oh, stuff it ya’ damned tosser. Give us a sip already,” came a voice. Distant, like from the bottom of a well. The sound echoed inside my skull, and I smirked as the blade met my palm. The sting that followed was small, like the cut itself. I felt the wet surge of blood to the surface, the faint drip as it hit the floor.
I opened my eyes, and unfurled my fingers.
There was nothing there.
I folded the knife, and slipped it back into my pocket. There came a cough from behind me, and I craned my neck to look.
The first time I’d seen him, I jumped. I hadn’t been able to help it. I mean, what I do? It’s a lot of hearsay. Lots of reading, with very little to show for it. But show he did, then and now, in his ratty suit jacket. It had probably been a fine black silk once, but the stains upon it had lacquered. My eyes trailed from his loafers to his cupped hands, then the distorted swirling mass of his face.
Crowley told me once he was whoever I needed to see. I’d mentioned the distorted static of his visage, and he’d just laughed.
I gave him a slight wave, and turned to face him.
“Hey buddy,”
Crowley tipped his head, an indistinct nose and eyes swapping places. “Oy, what is it then, whelp? Need studyin’ for another final, thassit?”
“No, not yet. More like-”
Before I could finish, there was a stamping at the stairwell. Shawn voice echoed, “WELL IF THAT’S HOW YOU FEEL, FUCK YOU AND YOUR ANCESTORS!”. A door slammed, and Crowley just laughed. His cheeks jumbled into mouths, then eyes as he looked at me.
“Lads got their knickers in a bunch again?”
I took a deep breath, eyes widening as I forced a smile. “Yeah, something like that. Tommy bit it again, and of course that lead to this. I was wondering if, uh. Well, if it’s not too much trouble, could you-”
“The fuck I look like, mate? A pimp? No. You want that particular cut o’ weird, ye’ have to do on your own, savvy?” Crowley shot back. His face melded to a set of eyebrows, arched high in anger. I sighed, and pleaded with my palms up.
“Come on man, just this once? Look, it would give them something to direct that anger at, okay?” I said. Crowley chuckled, his voice like a grade school classroom. His face shifted into a single watchful eye as he leaned in.
“The answer is no, Love. The answer will be no. Succubi ain’t somethin’ you boys need to meddle with. Lechers, the whole lot,” he said. He made a sound like he was spitting, but his eye didn’t so much as blink. I sighed, and gave a nod.
“Buuuuut,” he cooed, the eye splitting into several, each blurry and contoured to contrast those beside it. He drummed his fingers against their tips, and lifted from the bed. Levitating, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t do. But Crowley did it effortlessly. He stretched his legs, and pulled his hands behind his blurry head.
“But what?”
“Well. What you’re studyin’, issa essential science, right? Right. Demonic invocation, it’s damn near adjacent to other styles. The song, issa same innit? Just the dance is different,”
I took a deep breath, and crossed my arms. Crowley, still afloat, stood up and looked at me with dozens of eyes. Not the scary, blurry ones from before. Wide, curious blue orbs met my gaze.
“All I’m sayin’ is, I won’t help ye’ dive for my cousins muff. I’ve no qualms about other muff though. Whaddya say, boyo?”
He raised his hand and jut it forward-only to pull it back. I smirked. Crowley, he wasn’t a terrible demon. Not really.
But he knew better. Always did.
I stood up, and dusted at my shirt. I stared at his hand a long while, and was about to say something as a door slammed in the hall. Crowley didn’t stir-but it was enough to make me jump. I whipped my head towards the door, the faint sound of some icelandic insult be muttered from beyond the wall.
“A night o’ peace with some fine company-that’s worth something, right?” said Crowley.
I let out a sigh, and turned back towards him. My hands met my hip, and I focused on his face. I tried-tried so damn hard to make sense of what I saw there, but in the end I gave up.
“This company,” I said, bringing my forefinger and thumb to the ridge of my nose. “What exactly did you have in mind?”
@@@
The first thing they tell you about demonology?
Don’t listen to the demon. It’s a simple rule. But what it really means is, don’t project upon the demon. Projecting is different than listening, and is a hell of a lot harder to avoid. The best demonologists? They’re stuffy academics. They don’t smile, they don’t laugh. My own professor cracked a joke about our midterm, and nearly sent us into shock. His face was stone, and then he let out this dry laugh.
“I’m kidding,” he said. Voice flat, so monotone it sounded artificial. Throughout the class, he kept reassuring us that it was just a joke, he didn’t mean it.
All because he lacked a single drop of human emotion.
Real demonologists, they burn that shit out of themselves. Either by seclusion or practice. Because when you project, you’re doing so in a human way. You’re trying to make sense of what you’re seeing on a human level. At least, that’s what we’re told.
The truth is, you don’t project on demons because they’re tricky fucking bastards. Not because they’re evil (some are). Not because they’re malicious or want your soul (few do). But mostly, it’s because they’re bored by us. By people like me. They’ve lived since the dawn of existence. The old adage about “seen it all, done it all” actually applies.
By this point, you’re lucky they don’t fall asleep on you. Crowley had a few times.
Demons though, they’re like us on precisely one point. They get bored.
That’s where the tricks come in-and that old warning takes root.
Demons aren’t evil. They don’t purposefully want to hurt you. But they never, ever offer you something unless it’s going to be funny. I’d known this well before I met Crowley-but not once in my entire time with him did he dare extend his hand.
Until tonight.
For my troubles, I got a book. That’s it. No terms, no formalities. Crowley simply saw a way to provide-and he did. I hadn’t taken that hand of his. Didn’t need to, really. Verbal agreements work just as well. He’d given me a thousand smiles in that swirling mess of a face. Then he reached in his ratty coat, and tossed this thing at me. With it’s emerald cover and it’s velum pages, it reeked of wildflowers and honey. I’d almost been afraid to touch it.
Almost.
It now sat square in the center of the table, each of us taking a seat around it. Paulie sat drinking mead from a horn, his brow furrowed. Shawn sat across from me, his legal pad out and hand poised with a pen. Ever the researcher. But it was Tommy that spoke first, his face deathly pale as sweat beaded on his brow.
It was good to see that, him sweating. Life flowed through him yet.
“Just where did you get that?” he said, his voice a rasp. I felt the side of my mouth twinge up, but racked my brain for an answer.
“Damn weird looking thing,” said Paulie. His nostrils flared, and he let out a snort. He took another sip from his horn, his gaze dead set on the book.
Tommy cut his eyes towards him, and scribbled something on his pad. I raised my hand to my lips, and cleared my throat.
“I uh, well. I figured we could have some fun. Together,” I said, darting my eyes between the boys. Paulie looked towards Shawn, who was too busy scribbling to care.
“Oh? And what kind? This isn’t some kind of-like, bullshit demon thing is it?” said Paulie.
“Near as I can tell, no. They don’t keep books-I think,” I said.
Tommy turned to me, and pointed towards the book. “Yeah? Well where did you get it then? ‘Cause last I checked, they didn’t carry fae tomes at the campus library,”
I blinked, and looked down at the book. I took my fingers to the edge of it, and shoved it towards Tommy-who reeled back from it. I smiled, and said “Guess that means you can read it then, right?”
Tommy’s brow knit tight, and he glared at me. Shawn kept on scribbling, and Paulie just chuckled. “Oh c’mon man. ‘Sides, how the hell do you know anything about the fair folk?”
Tommy opened his mouth, then closed it. He took a breath, and looked at Paulie. “Enough to know they’re anything but fair,”
He turned to me, and scrunched his brow again. “Take this fucking thing-”
“Language!”
“Fuck you, Paulie. You’re drunk,” he said, rolling his eyes. He turned back to me, and continued.
“Take this thing, and get rid of it, okay? You don’t want anything to do with them. You think your little friend is bad? They’re worse,”
“What little friend?” Said Paulie, his words slurred over his tankard. Tommy sighed, and looked over at him.
“Crowley,” said Tommy. “Danial’s personal demon,”
“Demons aren’t real,” Shawn chimed. Paulie gave a snort, and tipped back his cup. After a long draught, he tilted his head towards the alchemist.
“Says the fucker that asked for dragon’s milk for yule,”
The pen in Shawn’s hand paused, then kept on moving. I took a breath, and tried to smile as Paulie chuckled again.
Tommy hadn’t moved. He just sat there, staring at the book like it was a dirty bomb and the timer was rolling. I laced my hands on the table, and looked at all the boys.
“Guys, look. Yes, Crowley gave me the book. No, I didn’t know what it was. But I didn’t ask for unlimited power or immortality or some shit. I asked him for succubi-”
“You what?”
“The hell is a succubi?”
“They’re not real either,”
I rolled my eyes, and pointed towards the book. “-and he said no. But he gave me this. I was trying to, fuck. I don’t know. Loosen you all the fuck up,” I said. I leaned back in my chair, and exhaled through my nose. The boys, all in turn, looked up at me. I rolled my tongue over my lips, and gave a nod.
“Guys, we’re about to graduate. We’re at the end. And you’re all so damned high strung, it’s just-is this how you want to remember college? Being straight laced and grinding all the time? That’s it? I barely remember the last few years. It’s all just,” I paused, taking a breath.
“Just tests. And papers, and studying. The hell is that, in the end?”
The table, save for Tommy’s breathing, was silent. Even Shawn’s pen had stopped. I watched as Tommy’s throat bobbed, and he tapped the book.
“Well, I ain’t gonna be a part of it. You all might have no idea what you’re fucking with, but I do. At least one of us needs needs to have a clear head,” he said. He got up, his chair trailing across the tile as he turned from the table. I watched him go, and raised a hand.
“Tommy, wait-what’s so bad about the fae? C’mon man, just tell me!”
By then, he was gone. I heard the tromp of his feet up the stairs, and the slam of his room. Paulie laughed, the loud bass of his voice filling the room. Shawn scribbled, and I turned back towards the table. My shoulders slumped as my chin met my hands. Shawn glanced up from his bad, and laid his pen down.
“I could take a crack at it, if you like?” he said.
Paulie grunted, and looked over at the alchemist. “You know fae tongue? Really?”
Shawn shrugged, and pressed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Languages are a side hobby. I know enough. The book, if you please?” he said, extending his hand. Paulie slid the book towards him, and sat his tankard down on the table. Shawn brought the book closer, his eyes narrowing as he brought his face inches from the cover. His nostrils flared as he audibly sniffed. A smile cracked his face as he thumped the cover with his finger.
“Oh, this babys the real deal alright. So how’d you get this again?”
I snorted, and said “You mean to tell me demons are a stretch, but faeries aren’t?”
Shawn wagged a finger towards me, and said “I said demons aren’t real. And they aren’t. Demons, by definition, are a matter of classification. I didn’t say personified naturally occurring elements of chaos don’t exist,”
Paulie rolled his eyes, and leaned back in his chair. He laced his hands over his stomach and gave a sigh. “Right, right. Well get on with it then-see if you can get us something with tits, yeah?”
Shawn’s nose wriggled, but his hands still lifted. The cover flipped open, and his finger trailed down the page. For a long moment, the room fell quiet. Paulie sipped his mead, and Shawn read. He had flipped to a new page on his pad, and scrawled notes at a manic pace. I coughed into my fist, and both looked over at me.
“So uh, can you-” I started, only to stop as Shawn broke into a giggle.
“Can I read it? Absolutely. I’ve no idea what Tommy was so damned worried about. It’s a grimoire-”
“Oh, bust out the four dollar words, why don’t you?” said Paulie.
“-a tome for contact. Nothing more. There’s something here about consuming food, but overall it’s pretty standard dreck. So,” he said, giving us both a shit eating grin. “-you boys wanna talk to anthropomorphic forces of nature?”
Paulie grunted, and poked a finger towards him. “Faeries. You can just say faeries you know,”
Shawn looked towards Paulie, ready to fire off again. Then I leaned forward, and said “Hell, if it’s harmless? What do we have to lose, eh?”
“Damned straight,” said Paulie, slamming his tankard down.
Shawn snorted, breaking into another giggle as he flipped the book open. “Right, right. Okay, so where was that page…”
@@@
Beautiful girls that burst into locusts aren’t your friends.
There’s not a lot of info about dealing with the fae. Our college doesn’t even offer courses on it. So if you’re curious and need a hard rule, like with demons? There you go. Don’t trust pretty people. Especially if they burst into locusts.
We had needed sugar and flowers. Honey-real, natural honey from the hive. Not that processed store bought shit. Shawn tried his hand at the incantation, and kept sneezing. He said the flowers irritated his nose. Paulie said something about huffing chemicals, and the boys almost got into it.
Then there was a breeze that started out of nowhere. Of all the things I’ve dealt with over the years? Crowley, watching Tommy bite it and come back? That breeze unsettled me the most. We were in a cramped dorm without a window open. It still rustled through, pulling the sugar and flowers into a lazy funnel. Shawn had been ecstatic when that happened. He slammed the book shut, his eyes wide as a kid on christmas morning. Paulie had finally ran out of mead-but looked far too sober for how much he drank.
The funnel spun, tighter and tighter as the breeze lapped against our clothes. It climbed from the floor, petals and sugary grit blasting at us. By the time it met the ceiling, the three of us had ducked wherever we could for cover. Then the breeze died, just as quick as it started. Paulie, Shawn and I peered from our corners-and gasped.
Have you ever seen something so damned pretty your jaw falls slack? Like a great view at a mountain top, or over a field? Stuff like that, trying to describe it, you just fail. Because you’re trying to put it on human terms. Your terms. You fail, but you grasp at it all the same. The being that stood in the center of the room-they were like that.
Gorgeous beyond measure, their skin the color of autumn leaves. Their eyes were almond-cut emeralds that gazed unblinking from marble cheeks. Their hair was the palette of summer, cascading over their shoulders. Beyond that, their wings-less insect, more the hazy hint of air disturbed-flapped twice as they stared at us.
Shawn, he was muttering something by the couch. His pen moved line by line as he tried to take down every single detail. Paulie stood up, eyes curious as he took a step forward. I rose, and placed a hand on his massive chest.
“Dude, no. Just a moment, okay,” I said. I turned towards the being, my eyes drinking her in.
I tried to turn my head-really, I did. At least I made the mental effort. But it took Shawn stepping between us for me to snap back.
“Hrm, I’d say you’re-” he said, flipping through his pad,”-Mabb, queen of the fall court? Is that right?”
Shawn glanced up, but the being didn’t speak. It stood there, eyes wide as she gazed down at us. Shawn swallowed, and looked back down at his legal pad. Paulie pushed around me, his shoulder knocking against Shawn’s as he approached with a smile.
“Well, aren’t you just a fine hora? So, Miss. Does royalty care to slum it with us? I promise I pack what those kvistr you shag don’t. Well, I suppose I speak for myself, but-”
“Uh, Paulie?” Shawn stammered, but the big fuck didn’t hear him. He took a step forward, so damned close she could feel his rank mead-sodden breath.
“-I’m sure between the two of them, they’ll be enough to match my bollr. Plenty enough for a queen, aye?”
“Paulie, step the fuck ba-”
But that was all that Shawn was able to get out before Mabb started to laugh. A high, shrill sound like a flock of jeering birds. Her supple lips parted as her mouth widened, the sound piercing as every octave climbed. Paulie’s face fell slack, and it was then the shaman finally took a step back.
Mabb laughed and laughed as she slapped her hands at her chest. She doubled over, her jaw distending as her eyes fell upon us again. The laughter seeped over us, into us. The very sound made my skull throb, and even Paulie staggered back. He clutched at his head, and jeered towards Shawn.
“Send her back!” he shouted, his booming galdr voice not loud enough to drown her out. “Send her back, gods fucking damn it!”
Shawn, his face twisted in pain, glanced around the room. He looked towards the table, then towards me.
There was the sharp snap as Mabb’s jaw cracked, and hit the floor like some cartoon. Still she laughed, right along to the pulsing of my heart.
“Where’s the book!?” Shawn shouted, jabbing a finger towards the table. I glanced towards it, every breath harder than the one before. We had left the book right there, right in the center. The last I’d seen it was before the scramble-and now it simply wasn’t there. I turned to Shawn, sweat pouring into my eyes as Mabb let out a vicious scream.
I shook my head, his eyes widening as I did.
“Oh fuck,” he said, the scream breaking into straining vocals as our eyes turned towards the faerie queen. Paulie stood, his hands over his ears as his lips moved. The ink on his arm, hidden by his polo, it was glowing bright. His eyes, cinched so tight the lids were red, began to open. Radiance poured from his sclera as his hands dropped. His face grew still, and he turned towards the snarling queen.
He lifted an arm, and I watched as light poured from the runic tattoos down to his palm. His lips parted, a deep sound echoing from the depths of his stomach. Shawn grabbed my shoulder, and dragged me from the pair. “Get down, get the fuck down!” he spat as we slid behind a couch. My heart was pounding as my head met the cushion. Shawn peered around, his lab coat transparent with sweat. He was breathing heavy, a hand fumbling at his pockets.
“Chaos can be contained, chaos can be contained” he muttered, the clink of vials faint in his digging. All the while, Paulie’s chant-his galdr-roared in a volume that rivaled Mabb’s own incessant caterwauling.
“Shawn! What’s going on?” I shouted-but I didn’t have to wait for an answer.
There was a wet pulsing thrum that shook the floor. Shawn covered his head, a vial in either hand as Paulie was sent flying into the wall. The glow on his arms and eyes faded, and the big fuck shook his head and spat. He looked up, his face pale as he glanced forward. Shawn and I peered from behind the couch, blood pounding in our ears.
I wish that we hadn’t.
As we peered from beyond the couch, the void of sound once filled by the scream gave way to a much different tone. There was no gore, no ichor. Not even a spot on the carpet to mark where Mabb had been. What there was instead was the buzz.
The buzz of a thousand locusts swarming every single part of the living room. Creeping and flying, their incessant chittering drawing close as they fell upon us by the hundreds.
@@@
With Tommy, you had about five seconds.
Five seconds to decide if the stagger in his step and the white of his eyes was a sign. If today was the day his brain finally had rotted into mush. If all that’s left was the meat puppet, limbs smacking dumb against his sides as he came for you.
Did you know they eat bugs in some cultures? I mean, I knew. Me and the boys, we’d even bought candy made from it. Cheese dusted mealworms. Chocolate covered ants. It wasn’t bad, all considered. But those same bugs, they tasted a hell of a lot different when they’re forcing your lips open. Squirming down into your throat, every flap of their wings smacking against your esophagus.
Tommy hadn’t had the pleasure. He hadn’t been there. In the room, on this physical plane. So he had no one to check on him, no one to shove a vial of gunk in his throat.
He got back too late.
Mabb hadn’t minded one bit. She didn’t mind much of anything at all, so long as it was her way. In this house, everything went like that now. She wasn’t here anymore-but she was. In every skitter, every buzz. Every wildflower that sprouted from the spot she had stood, every beehive that formed. It wasn’t a frat anymore-it was her court.
We’d ate of the fae. She’d granted us our heart’s desire, even.
I just wish she had left me my hands. Maybe my vocal chords, but that’s asking a bit much.
Tommy staggers towards me, his eyes rolled until there’s nothing but white. Drool seeps from the side of his mouth, and he stands there for a long while. Then he tilts forward, his kneecaps meeting the hardwood floor with a meaty clack. He sits there like that, mouth agape and wet.
I’d tried to fight it at first, you know? I really did. But as the days passed, it just got so fucking hard. So I made a mistake.
I projected.
I rationalized it on the human level.
I figured-being a dog now, it wasn’t so bad. I slept when I wanted, did what I wanted. I wouldn’t have to pay back my student loans. And whenever I got hard, I didn’t have to get a demon. A book. I didn’t have to do any of that shit. Because Tommy, well.
Tommy could take it.
If he wasn’t busy getting rutted by Paulie-who had become a boar. If he wasn’t getting chased by Shawn, his horse jackass screech echoing as he’d mount him. Tommy laid there, eyes rolled back as cum coated his face. As his stomach bulged, and his ass gaped.
Every time one of us came, I heard it. That screeching laugh I’d heard that day. It reverberated in my skull, and then I’d glance around. I’d sniff, and try to find it.
But I never did.
None of us did.
If it was Crowley’s or Mabb’s in the end, I couldn’t tell you. I don’t think it mattered, really.
Truth be told, I’m trying to handle things like Tommy.
It’s easier when you just don’t think at all.