Hero's Manual: Chapter 21
A/N:Notes: The one-eyed tomcat is, of course, TPratchett's Greebo. "Gibbous" comes from NGaiman’s character Wolfe (or was it Seth?) in “Shoggoth’s Old Peculiar” criticizing HPLovecraft's writing style, and Mr and Mrs Owens, in Cry of the Kalahari, thanking their friend who said no novel is complete without a gibbous moon.
Chapter 21: Different Tastes
All parties agreed that the Confrontation ought to wait until after the feast. (Actually, what all parties agreed was that they’d do as Mycroft said, and maybe he’d stop looking at them like that.) All parties also agreed, in the face of a hungry vampire for whom a feast needed no heaping plates, just occupied chairs, that they could work together just this once to find a suitable offering.
That last turned out to be surprisingly easy: the woods surrounding the village proved to be plentiful, and the small pool of crystalline water at the end of a small path even more so. Hero and Quasi managed to catch a few fish, attracted to the pool’s edge by Mycroft’s wiggling fingers. The two young men worked together surprisingly well, disputing only over whether they were cods or carps. While Mycroft gutted and cleaned the fish with a very concentrated look on his face, Gwen took Vicky in tow to the market, where they bartered for ingredients. Their simple fish casserole was cooked in Lucretia’s kitchen, thanks largely to Vicky’s growing reputation as an admirer of her soup.
By the time the casserole was done to the satisfaction of all four - Mycroft abstaining from all things culinary, proclaiming he’d “forgotten all about that silly nonsense” - the banquet was heavily laden with food and it seemed that the entire town was sitting down to it with growling stomachs. Assorted pets - dogs, chickens and a lone one-eyed tomcat - milled between people’s legs. Freckles the goat could be heard bleating forlornly somewhere close-by.
“Here you go, love,” said Lucretia, handing a serving spoon to Vicky, who instantly turned to give the spoon to Quasi. The butler glared at him over the edge of the casserole, his oven-mitted hands clenching involuntarily. Vicky ignored the glare and stuck the spoon into the casserole.
“Thanks again, Lu’, for letting us use your kitchen,” he said, turning back to Lucretia who beamed a toothless grin. She pressed herself closer to Vicky and gripped his arm, murmuring into his ear something that made Vicky wince and blush at once.
Releasing him, she nodded curtly to Quasi. “I want that dish back in one piece, you hear? The sink’s over there - be sure to scrub the burnt bits off. And I don’t want to see any stray crumbs lying around just a’waitin’ to wander off and dirty up the place.”
“Yes’m,” mumbled Quasi, images of what a serving spoon could do to an overbearing bar-matron flickering through his mind.
Once they were free of Lucretia, the four unlikely companions began walking towards the banquet, led by the noise, smells and Mycroft’s keen-eyes. (The villagers didn’t believe in public street lighting and the last rays of sunlight had died a long time ago.) As they neared to city square, Mycroft stopped and turned to face his followers, who bumped into each other and stumbled over their own feet until they managed to stop.
“Well, lads, my dear Gwen, you three scamper off to the banquet.” Mycroft looked around distractedly at the surrounding houses. “I’m just going to nip off for a bit; I’ll meet up with you later.”
“Don’t you want to come to the banquet?” asked Gwen. Behind her, Quasi smothered a laugh.
“Oh, I’ll be there, never fear.” The vampire smiled strangely at her. “You’re such a good girl, you know? A fine Damsel.” He took a step towards her. “Give us a hug goodbye, won’t you?” His outstretched hands shook slightly and his face seemed even paler than usual. It may have been a trick of the light - although the moon was at the very opposite of gibbous - but his face seemed gaunt and drawn, his smile etched sharply across a smooth plane of marble skin. Other than his smile, which reminded Gwen of a ventriloquist’s puppet, his face was entirely expressionless.
Gwen took a hesitant step towards him, her arms raised and ready to embrace. The trembling marble statue, blue veins visible on its outstretched hands, locked its gaze somewhere below Gwen’s chin.
Suddenly, there was a hand on her elbow, tugging her arms down. Gwen dimly heard Hero’s voice but couldn’t make out what he was saying. She saw Vicky move behind his uncle with his butler following suite. For a moment all four figures were still. Gwen could feel Hero trying to pull her backwards, could see Vicky and Quasi tugging on Mycroft’s arms and shoulders, the vampire’s clothes distorting with the strain. Had a passerby, late to the banquet and hindered by the darkness, seen them he would have thought them four statues.
The moment passed and Gwen and Mycroft took a simultaneous step backwards like magnets whose polarities were suddenly reversed. Vicky stumbled as the vampire backed into him, causing him to lose his grip on Mycroft and fall to the ground with a curse. Mycroft’s gaze shifted lazily upwards so he met Gwen’s eyes. He blinked slowly a few times as his face relaxed from its eerie rigor mortis. Abruptly, he shook his head once and began the pretence of breathing again, seemingly coming back to himself.
Turning behind him, Mycroft pulled his nephew to his feet with a jovial, “Up you go then”, though it seemed that Vicky resisted his uncle’s assistance. The vampire then clapped his hands and grinned at his companions, saying, amidst chuckles, “Well, that was entertaining. You all make sure to have a lovely time, and don’t hesitate if they ask one of you to go round the back to help with the sacrifice. I’ll just be a jiffy - got some pipes to drain, you know how it is.” With that, he tipped his Musgrave’s Hedgehogs cap to them and faded into the shadows.
Vicky shook his head softly as he helped Quasi find the casserole he’d set down earlier in order to lay his hands on the vampire. Throughout the episode, no one had stepped on it, which was a relief. Hero stared at Gwen with a particularly pensive look. She caught his eye. “What was all that about?” Hero looked away just as the casserole-hunters, glancing her way, gave a simultaneous sigh. The pair stood up, Quasi once more balancing the casserole on mitted hands.
“What did he mean, ‘pipes’?” Gwen looked at each of the three men in turn, but got no response. The most she got was a sympathetic smile from Quasi before he turned to the task of carrying a casserole with dignity.
The three men began walking towards the banquet, its sounds and smells reentering their consciousness with force. Gwen watched them walk for a moment, shivering suddenly in the empty street, then hurried after them before they disappeared into the dark.
Chapter 21: Different Tastes
All parties agreed that the Confrontation ought to wait until after the feast. (Actually, what all parties agreed was that they’d do as Mycroft said, and maybe he’d stop looking at them like that.) All parties also agreed, in the face of a hungry vampire for whom a feast needed no heaping plates, just occupied chairs, that they could work together just this once to find a suitable offering.
That last turned out to be surprisingly easy: the woods surrounding the village proved to be plentiful, and the small pool of crystalline water at the end of a small path even more so. Hero and Quasi managed to catch a few fish, attracted to the pool’s edge by Mycroft’s wiggling fingers. The two young men worked together surprisingly well, disputing only over whether they were cods or carps. While Mycroft gutted and cleaned the fish with a very concentrated look on his face, Gwen took Vicky in tow to the market, where they bartered for ingredients. Their simple fish casserole was cooked in Lucretia’s kitchen, thanks largely to Vicky’s growing reputation as an admirer of her soup.
By the time the casserole was done to the satisfaction of all four - Mycroft abstaining from all things culinary, proclaiming he’d “forgotten all about that silly nonsense” - the banquet was heavily laden with food and it seemed that the entire town was sitting down to it with growling stomachs. Assorted pets - dogs, chickens and a lone one-eyed tomcat - milled between people’s legs. Freckles the goat could be heard bleating forlornly somewhere close-by.
“Here you go, love,” said Lucretia, handing a serving spoon to Vicky, who instantly turned to give the spoon to Quasi. The butler glared at him over the edge of the casserole, his oven-mitted hands clenching involuntarily. Vicky ignored the glare and stuck the spoon into the casserole.
“Thanks again, Lu’, for letting us use your kitchen,” he said, turning back to Lucretia who beamed a toothless grin. She pressed herself closer to Vicky and gripped his arm, murmuring into his ear something that made Vicky wince and blush at once.
Releasing him, she nodded curtly to Quasi. “I want that dish back in one piece, you hear? The sink’s over there - be sure to scrub the burnt bits off. And I don’t want to see any stray crumbs lying around just a’waitin’ to wander off and dirty up the place.”
“Yes’m,” mumbled Quasi, images of what a serving spoon could do to an overbearing bar-matron flickering through his mind.
Once they were free of Lucretia, the four unlikely companions began walking towards the banquet, led by the noise, smells and Mycroft’s keen-eyes. (The villagers didn’t believe in public street lighting and the last rays of sunlight had died a long time ago.) As they neared to city square, Mycroft stopped and turned to face his followers, who bumped into each other and stumbled over their own feet until they managed to stop.
“Well, lads, my dear Gwen, you three scamper off to the banquet.” Mycroft looked around distractedly at the surrounding houses. “I’m just going to nip off for a bit; I’ll meet up with you later.”
“Don’t you want to come to the banquet?” asked Gwen. Behind her, Quasi smothered a laugh.
“Oh, I’ll be there, never fear.” The vampire smiled strangely at her. “You’re such a good girl, you know? A fine Damsel.” He took a step towards her. “Give us a hug goodbye, won’t you?” His outstretched hands shook slightly and his face seemed even paler than usual. It may have been a trick of the light - although the moon was at the very opposite of gibbous - but his face seemed gaunt and drawn, his smile etched sharply across a smooth plane of marble skin. Other than his smile, which reminded Gwen of a ventriloquist’s puppet, his face was entirely expressionless.
Gwen took a hesitant step towards him, her arms raised and ready to embrace. The trembling marble statue, blue veins visible on its outstretched hands, locked its gaze somewhere below Gwen’s chin.
Suddenly, there was a hand on her elbow, tugging her arms down. Gwen dimly heard Hero’s voice but couldn’t make out what he was saying. She saw Vicky move behind his uncle with his butler following suite. For a moment all four figures were still. Gwen could feel Hero trying to pull her backwards, could see Vicky and Quasi tugging on Mycroft’s arms and shoulders, the vampire’s clothes distorting with the strain. Had a passerby, late to the banquet and hindered by the darkness, seen them he would have thought them four statues.
The moment passed and Gwen and Mycroft took a simultaneous step backwards like magnets whose polarities were suddenly reversed. Vicky stumbled as the vampire backed into him, causing him to lose his grip on Mycroft and fall to the ground with a curse. Mycroft’s gaze shifted lazily upwards so he met Gwen’s eyes. He blinked slowly a few times as his face relaxed from its eerie rigor mortis. Abruptly, he shook his head once and began the pretence of breathing again, seemingly coming back to himself.
Turning behind him, Mycroft pulled his nephew to his feet with a jovial, “Up you go then”, though it seemed that Vicky resisted his uncle’s assistance. The vampire then clapped his hands and grinned at his companions, saying, amidst chuckles, “Well, that was entertaining. You all make sure to have a lovely time, and don’t hesitate if they ask one of you to go round the back to help with the sacrifice. I’ll just be a jiffy - got some pipes to drain, you know how it is.” With that, he tipped his Musgrave’s Hedgehogs cap to them and faded into the shadows.
Vicky shook his head softly as he helped Quasi find the casserole he’d set down earlier in order to lay his hands on the vampire. Throughout the episode, no one had stepped on it, which was a relief. Hero stared at Gwen with a particularly pensive look. She caught his eye. “What was all that about?” Hero looked away just as the casserole-hunters, glancing her way, gave a simultaneous sigh. The pair stood up, Quasi once more balancing the casserole on mitted hands.
“What did he mean, ‘pipes’?” Gwen looked at each of the three men in turn, but got no response. The most she got was a sympathetic smile from Quasi before he turned to the task of carrying a casserole with dignity.
The three men began walking towards the banquet, its sounds and smells reentering their consciousness with force. Gwen watched them walk for a moment, shivering suddenly in the empty street, then hurried after them before they disappeared into the dark.