The Banshee Child 1/2
First part of second story, in which there is a very bratty little girl that, according to Lynn, rapidly changes age according to my whims (and she would be right)
Word count: 31,173/ 50,000... I need to write another 827 words tonight but I dunno if its gonna happen. I'm having trouble with the current story, but it's only supposed to be around 6 or 7 pages...which almost makes it harder. Oh well.
The Banshee Child
“What are you looking for?”
Cole yelped as he startled, knee slipping off the kitchen counter where he perched, trying in vain to reach the cabinet above the refrigerator. He steadied himself then turned to glare at the necromancer, who was leaning easily against the island counter, arms crossed over a torn black sweater. The color washed the boy out even more than normal but made his green eyes blaze. “I hate that brat,” he said in answer to Char’s question, turning back towards the cabinet. Char chuckled as Cole carefully pulled himself up with the side of the refrigerator and reached for the cabinet door. “Why is there even a cabinet up here in the first place?” he muttered darkly. “It’s not like anyone can reach it without just about killing themselves.”
“I think it’s so demon children can hide in there and make things difficult,” Char said, stepping forward, head craned up to look at him with that enigmatic smile he always seemed to sport. “Alternatively, to store alcohol where it’s not so easily accessible. Do you want help?”
“That’s stupid,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t want to be doing this drunk. And no. I just…need…to…” He jerked opened the cabinet suddenly, reaching for Elina, the annoying banshee baby Char had picked up on a job a while ago. In the three weeks since Cole had moved in, it had been his job to care for her during the day and he was slowly but surely beginning to despise her.
The feeling was only deepened when sharp teeth closed around the web of his thumb. He growled, baring his teeth into the darkness. Elina let go and Cole had a bare second to flinch back as her mouth opened wide. “Oh shi-” the rest of his curse was drowned out with a piercing, nails on chalkboard scream that traveled straight through his ears and into his brain. Dizzy, he brought his hands up to clap them against his head but the world abruptly tilted as his eardrums rebelled. He lost balance, slipped and had barely a second to brace himself for the landing, cringing.
He hit something hard, but giving that let out a surprised grunt. Arms flailed around him before gripping tightly to his ribs. He hit the tiled ground hard, Char’s knee digging into his lower back. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his back. At least the brat had stopped screaming and was now leaning out of the cabinet and giggling down at them happily. Sticking his tongue out at her, he turned to look at Char, who was massaging the back of his head , sprawled out and leaning back against the island. “Ow,” he said deliberately.
“Sorry,” Cole said, wincing at the ringing in his ears. “Thanks for catching me,” he added. Char gave him a strange look, and pushed himself up.
“I wasn’t trying,” he informed Cole archly. “You fell on me, you freaking giant.” Cole snorted and pushed himself up, steadying himself as the world tilted again. He shook his head but that just made the disorientation and ringing worse. His ears were throbbing dully, but that was relatively normal after one of Elina’s screams.
“Ah. Yeah, that would be pretty silly for a shortie like you to try,” he said, feeling as if he were standing on a rocking boat.
“Dude, you don’t have to scream, I can…” Char trailed off. “Your ears are bleeding,” he said abruptly. Cole blinked and reached up to one lobe. His fingers came away wet and sticky and when he brought them before his eyes they were red.
“Huh,” he said, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his head. “Ow.” Char sighed, or at least Cole assumed he did by the movement of his chest, and turned to grab a hand towel. “What does that mean?”
Char grinned and ran the towel under the faucet, wringing it out before wrapping it around Cole’s head like an earmuff. “It means my little baby is growing up,” he said, voice faint over the ringing. He smirked. “I’ll give you something to help in a second. And maybe some earplugs. Hold this.” Cole took over pressing the towel around his head and the necromancer stepped back. He nimbly climbed up onto the counter and reached for Elina.
“Oh sweet Jesus don’t make her scream again,” Cole whimpered. Char glanced over his shoulder with a smug look, then turned back to the banshee girl.
“Come on, sweetpea.” He held out his arms to her and to Cole’s extreme annoyance she crawled right out of the cabinet and into Char’s arms. Smiling at her, he tickled her stomach and tugged lightly on her pale pigtails, making her squirm and giggle. “Go and get washed up, kitten. Dinner time soon.” With a giggle, she tottered off towards the bathroom, hissing at Cole as she passed him. Cole sneered back, then slumped against the counter with vertigo.
“I swear she hates me more every day,” he stated. Char nodded. “Why does she hate me?”
“Probably because you go against everything she stands for,” Char said. He held up a finger and disappeared for a moment, returning with a leather case, which he set on the counter next to Cole and opened. Inside were a several small bottles, pouches, and bundles of herbs. He hopped up on the counter next to them and began going through them, pulling them out, narrowing his eyes at it, then putting it back. The boy needed glasses but firmly denied it.
“What do you mean I go against everything she stands for?” he asked as Char set aside one of the bottles. Char glanced up, smiled a bit, and reached up to remove the towel.
“Technically, you should be dead,” he explained, reaching up to wipe at his ears a bit with one edge of the towel before grabbing his chin and tilting his head to one side. “This,” he touched the bracelet, “Is technically the only thing keeping you in your body. She’s a death omen, so she senses that. The longer you go on living, the less she understands the signals she’s getting from you, and the more it frustrates her. So she screams.” He grinned a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I kind of set you up. Didn’t think you’d last this long. Hold still.” He picked up the bottle and unscrewed it, using the dropper inside to drop a few drops of whatever liquid was in it into his ear. Almost immediately the ringing in his ear faded, as did some of the pressure he’d been feeling. He allowed the necromancer to repeat the motion in his other ear, sighing with relief as the annoying sound retreated completely. Char replaced the bottle into the kit and pulled out another one that smelled rank when he opened it. Cole looked at it suspiciously as Char filled another dropper and held it up.
“Whoa, wait. What exactly is that?” he asked, holding up one hand. Char rolled his eyes.
“Sesame oil, garlic, and ginger root,” he answered “charged with healing magic. It’ll help with the pain. Now tilt your head.” Grumbling under his breath, Cole let the other boy put the stinky concoction in his ear, begrudgingly admitting that it did help with the dull throbbing. “I don’t think she actually burst your eardrums, but if it still hurts in a couple days, we’ll take you to the doctor.” Char stepped away, closing the kit as Cole rubbed at one ear. When he stood, he was annoyed to notice the floor was still tilting under him.
“Got anything for vertigo?” he asked the other boy. Char grimaced and shook his head.
“Not anything that would help much. The eardrum’s probably a bit damaged, so anything I gave you wouldn’t do much. Just stay away from high places and hold on to the railing on the stairs. You’ll be fine.”
“Great,” Cole groaned, “Do I get worker’s comp?” Char nudged him out of the way with a smirk, going back down the hall.
“Nope!” he replied, “But I can give you ear plugs.” As he came back out with Elina in tow. “The good news is that she did it with me too for a while. You just have to win her over.” Cole groaned again feelingly as Char handed him two soft bits of bright orange foam. Elina went over to the kitchen table with a box of crayons, pulling herself up on to a chair before starting to color on the papers Cole had set out for her earlier before her impromptu hide and seek game.
“Can’t I just stick with Lae?” he asked pathetically, looking around as he fit the plugs into his ears. “Where is she anyways?” The chipper hound hadn’t come upstairs with her owner. Char’s muffled voice sounded from next to him but it was unintelligible. Cole scowled, fiddling with the plugs. If he couldn’t hear his boss, then the plugs weren’t going to work.
Char appeared before him, tugging him down slightly so they were more on level and brushed his hands away to fiddle with the plugs, mouth moving though Cole couldn’t hear it. He fought not to smirk; he’d learned early on that the necromancer could be sensitive about his 5’3” stature, especially since Cole was only a hair under 5’11” and therefore towered over him. Char seemed to catch his amusement anyways and rolled his eyes, flicking him on the forehead before saying in a tinny voice, “That better?”
“Yup,” Cole answered, standing back up straight. “Thanks.”
“No prob.” The necromancer turned away and opened the fridge to pull out some hamburger meat. Char was still in charge of cooking at night; Cole could manage eggs and bacon for breakfast, and sandwiches for lunch, but anything more complicated was beyond him. “I just had to tune them for you. Got them from Dr. Sharp when I first adopted her. Had to use ‘em for almost three months before she got used to me.” He grinned a sharp toothed grin. “Feel free to keep them as long as you want.”
“Gee, thanks,” Cole said dryly, going to the table and sitting down across from Elina. She shot him a suspicious glance, red crayon stilling, but eventually went back to her coloring. “So did you answer my question? Where’s Lae?”
“Still downstairs. She found a mouse, and you know how she is. She’ll be up in a bit, I’m sure.” Cole nodded absently, watching his boss and flat mate maneuver around the room as he cooked up hamburgers. The boy handled the kitchen like a pro, flipping hamburgers, adding spices, and double checking the vegetables he’d put on as well. He always whistled when cooking, and now was no different, although it sounded different through the earplugs.
“Isn’t cooking so much easier now that everything is organized and in its place?” Cole asked pointedly.
“No,” Char retorted, pulling open a drawer and riffling through it. “Where’s the tarragon?” Cole rolled his eyes.
“In the spice rack,” he reminded the boy, “with all the other spices. Alphabetically, so it should be near the bottom.” Char looked over at the wooden contraption Cole had handmade his first week there (he had always been good in shop class, while he was still in school), and scowled a bit before pulling out one of the labeled bottles.
“Ah. Well, that’s a smart place to put it,” he admitted grudgingly. Cole smiled beatifically at him and Char paused just a moment, staring at him slightly slack-mouthed. When Cole raised an eyebrow, he shook his head and pressed his lips tightly together. “You look like a dork with those earplugs,” he muttered before going back to cooking.
“So when are you going to let me get to work on that tornado you call an office?” he asked, just as he had nearly every night since finishing up the apartment. Char groaned and flipped off the stove burners, though he left the burgers still in the pan.
“You want cheese?” Cole nodded. “How about you, sweetpea?” Elina giggled and pumped one hand in the air, her sign for yes. Cole wondered idly if the banshee brat would ever start talking; she looked to be nearly three or four years already. Cole sincerely hoped not, since even her cute little giggles got on his nerves. Char nodded back at her with a goofy grin and went to get some cheese.
Cole growled, not amused. “You didn’t answer my question,” he stated flatly. Even though the other boy was turned away, Cole could practically see him rolling his eyes. In any case, his hip jutted out like it tended to when he was getting particularly stubborn.
“Really? I thought I had. Yesterday. And the day before, and the day before…”he trailed off before spinning abruptly, hands full of plates. With a sigh, Cole got up to take them from him, feeling mildly home-maker-esque and wondering if he should be disturbed. Instead all he felt was a fuzzy glow that was hampered only by the knowledge that the other boy refused to let him touch the downstairs.
“Yes, but those weren’t good answers, so now I have to try again,” he said flippantly. To Elina, he plastered on a fake smile and said in a sickly sweet voice, “Sweetpea, I need you to move your drawing stuff so we can eat on the table. Can you do that for me?” The little girl looked up with a mulish scowl on her face. Cole watched with horror as her mouth opened wide, cringing.
Quick as a jackrabbit, Char was between them, his hand clamped firmly over her mouth. “Elina!” he barked, and her icy blue eyes widened in shock over his hand. “No. You don’t scream at Uncle Cole, okay?” Her eyes widened further , glistening with tears, but she nodded. “Good girl,” he continued, moving his hand to pet her hair. “Now don’t cry. Just be good and move your things so we can eat, okay?” She nodded again, and gathered her things before sliding off the chair and trotting into the living room. Char sighed a breath of relief and shook his head. “I’m gonna have to talk to her,” he muttered as Cole began to set the table. “My eardrums can’t take much more of her either, even if the screams are meant for you.”
Cole nodded. “You’re pretty good with her,” he said, and Char shrugged, going back to get the food.
“I’ve got lots of cousins,” he explained. “We’re not so close anymore, but I practically raised some of them.” Cole glanced over at him, hearing the odd tone in his voice even through the ear plugs. From the look on his face, however, the human decided he should probably change the subject. He grinned a bit.
“So. Office? Make with the cleaning and the organizing and filing?” he asked impishly, steadying himself surreptitiously against the table as it threatened to move away from him. Char gave a long suffering sigh.
“Cole,” he said in a voice insultingly similar to the one he’d addressed Elina with, “I told you - I’m fine with the way it is now. I know where everything is. Besides, who knows what sort of dangerous stuff you could get into if you go messing around down there.” Cole raised an eyebrow as the other boy brought in the food and set it on the table.
“Technically your first rationalization for that pigsty would lead me to believe that you know what sort of dangerous stuff is down there.”
Char’s eyes crossed slightly. “Stop talking like a lawyer,” he grumbled, then shook his head. “That’s not the point. The point is that it’s not safe for humans. Case closed. Now shut up before I make Elina scream at you.”
Cole frowned and resisted the urge to stomp his foot. Then he decided that was silly and stomped it anyways. “Boss, come on! That mess can’t be good for business! Clients coming in are going to take one look at it and think you aren’t professional.”
Char froze, eyes narrowing angrily. “The people who come to me don’t care about a little mess,” he said icily. Cole briefly contemplated giving up, but that had never gotten him what he wanted in the past, it was unlikely to do so now.
“That’s not true,” he said, trying to soften the words. “Marise told me your biggest problem is people not taking you seriously because of your age. If you keep your office looking like a messy teenager’s room, that’s only going to make it worse.”
Cole flinched back as Char’s eyes blazed bright green and his hand slammed down on the table, rattling the dishware. He stood his ground though, glaring right back at him. Finally the unholy light seemed to fade, leaving his eyes their familiar frosted lawn color and he sagged against the table a bit. “Fine,” he said with a carefully controlled voice as he turned away. “You can do your thing down there. It’s not like you’re helping much with Elina, anyways,” he added snidely. Cole let the comment roll off his back; Char had a tendency to turn prickly when his pride was hurt or he was forced to do things he didn’t want. “But be careful! Try to move things around as little as possible, and don’t go reading any of the books or messing with the relics, okay?” Cole shrugged and nodded. What Char was saying would be impossible if he were to do a thorough job of organizing, but Cole also thought that Char had a tendency to underestimate him. Smiling happily, he nearly bounced into his chair as Char called Elina in to eat. Not even the little girl’s glares were enough to break his bad mood.
Starting tomorrow, he had his work cut out for him.
________________
Char winced as the sound of glass shattering interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced up from his copy of the Grimoire Sympathia. “Please tell me that was not my Orb of Thesulah you just smashed,” he said with a long suffering sigh. Cole glanced up from where he was picking up shards of glass, brushing strands of hair from his forehead where they had escaped the olive green handkerchief wrapped around his head. The homeless boy had cut the light blonde locks much shorter not long after moving onto the necromancer’s couch, but the front was still long enough to fall into clear brown eyes. Eyes which were now looking at him as if unsure whether he were being put on or not.
“Are you serious? Isn’t that from Buffy?” he asked incredulously. Char put on an angry place and lifted himself out of his plushy desk chair.
“They had to get some things right. And you just broke it. There was a vampire soul in there, damn it! Now it’s been released and who knows where it’s gone!”
Cole’s eyes widened almost impossibly as he glanced between the broken shard and Char, mouth working silently. “Oh my god,” he finally managed, sounding panicked. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I…I’ll help you find it, I swear, I’ll take Lae and track it down or something or…” Char couldn’t take it anymore and collapsed back into his chair, giggling.
“Relax, I’m just kidding,” he laughed as his assistant stared gape mouthed at him. “It’s just a replica. Zeus and Hera, the look on your face…”Char cracked up again.
“A replica,” Cole said flatly, staring down at the shards. Char shrugged, picking up the Grimoire and setting it on his lap, kicking his legs up onto the desk.
“I’m a fan, what can I say. Besides,” he smiled a bit, “Real orbs are extremely hard to get a hold of, and I don’t really need one, considering I can just pop on over and grab a soul any time I want.”
Cole stood up and dropped the glass in the trash can he had pulled over earlier in the day. “That,” he said in a an accusatory tone, “was really mean.” Char sighed and dropped his feet back to the door.
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But you’re lucky that wasn’t something that was actually dangerous. I warned you to be careful.”
As Cole finished cleaning up, he grumbled, “Wouldn’t be breaking shit if I could keep the ground under my feet.”
Char frowned, looking down at his book. “Yeah, well, I’m working on that.” Cole looked up, interested. “In the meantime, do me a favor and stick to paper, would you?” The other boy nodded, winding around the various stacks to lean over Char’ chair, pushing the back down a bit so he could see better.
“What’s that?”
Char tapped the open pages of the book, shifting a bit so Cole wasn’t breathing against the sensitive skin of his neck. “Grimoire Sympathia. It’s basically a listing of all the spirits f various healing plants, minerals, and stones, and how to invoke them. I figure since traditional healing herbs won’t work, we might as well try this, if I can find the right one. I,” he paused, grimaced a bit. “I’d rather not take you to the doctor around here if at all possible.”
Cole leaned closer so he could look at the book better. Char twitched, one shoulder coming up automatically. “Why not?” he breathed against his ear. Char scowled, reached up, and shoved the boy away by the face.
“Dude, could you stop that?” Cole looked confused, but pulled away, moving around to sit on the desk and take the book from Char so he could flip through it. Char shot him a dirty look but let him. “I don’t want to bring you to her because she’s a vampire, and likes to push things. Plus, she’s a bitch.” He shook his head. “Anyways, it’d be better to find a solution that doesn’t involve paying for an appointment each time it happens.”
Cole look up sharply from the book. “Each time it happens?” he squawked. “You planning on this happening again?” Char shrugged uneasily, feeling a bit guilty.
“Well she’s not likely to stop screaming at you any time soon. So until you two get along or we find her a good home, yes, it’s likely to happen again. Believe me, I’m about as happy about this as you are.”
“Can’t we just…duct tape her mouth or something?” he muttered, flipping through the book. He paused on one page near the back. “Hey, what about this one?” He spun the book around and pointed at one of the pictures. Char leaned forward squinting a bit as the words blurred a bit before straightening out.
“Hmm,” he said scanning over the page quickly. “Amethyst? It is a general healing stone, one of the best but….”
“It also says that it’s good for ears,” Cole added, pointing a bit further down the page, under the instructions for invocation. He was nowhere near as good with stones as he was with plants, which was why he had concentrated on the herbal section of the book. But stones lasted longer, which would mean he wouldn’t have to use the spell every time Elina screamed. Still, amethyst by itself would be unlikely to help much; it would heal faster, but wouldn’t do anything for the vertigo, which was the main problem. Char flipped pages as his mind started clicking through possible combinations. This was the part he loved, what he had spent most of his younger years learning with his witch mother before he had grown into the capabilities inherited from his father. Spells, theories, charm-making…he’d been good at it; unfortunately hedge-witches were a dime a dozen, while those who could waltz into death on a whim were, as far as he could tell narrowed down to one. Even the other necromancers could not do so without a significant detriment to their souls; most were confined to calling spirits into this world through ceremony, hence his comment about the Orb of Thesulah. His path had been chosen for him by default.
“You know there’s an index in the back, right?” Char blinked, then glanced up at Cole.
“There is?” Cole grinned and nodded.
“How d’you think I found the amethyst, luck? I looked up ears.” Feeling like an idiot, Char flipped to the back and sure enough, several indexes, one of which catalogued the contents by ailments, were listed.
“Thanks,” he muttered, quickly cross-referencing ears and vetigo and coming up with only one possibility that showed up under both. He flipped to the page on Lapis Lazuli. “I think this one might work better,” he murmured, reading quickly down the page. “Usually used for depression and mental clarity, but it says it also aids in dizziness, vertigo, and cellular reconstruction in the ear.” He frowned, thinking. If he combined it with the amethyst, and perhaps some sesame oil, then invoked the spirits of all of them…” Are your ears pierced?” he asked. Cole raised an eyebrow.
“They were. Several times. Sold the earrings for cash several months ago. They’re probably closed up by now. Why? Am I getting some pretty new jewelry?” Char grinned, ignoring his curiosity about the young man’s past as always, and stood up.
“Maybe. Stay here and man the office, would you? I’m going to get some supplies, ask some advice.” He grabbed a knee-length jacket off one of the chairs supposedly set up for clients and an old fashioned fedora, putting them on as he continued talking. “If a customer comes by, take a name and number and…what?” Cole was snickering.
“Of course, detective. Should I be expecting a lady in red?” Char blinked, then scowled, shoving the fedora onto Cole’s head and replacing it with a beanie as the boy laughed.
“Ah, screw you,” he snapped, only half joking. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He gave the other boy a dry look. “Try not to break anything else, okay? Oh,” he glanced back just before going out the door. “Call Shea? Ask him if he can take care of Elina one more day.” The look of relief on Cole’s face was both amusing and pathetic at the same time. Shaking his head, he left; this was something he wanted to talk to his mother about.
______________
Cole watched the necromancer leave, pulling the fedora low over his forehead. He waited until he heard the bell ring on the outside door before hopping off the desk and getting back to work, ignoring the vertigo. Char’s office was actually the back room of the store; the front room was set up like a typical store, complete with an old fashioned cash register, but was more or less abandoned, the shelves empty and dusty with disuse. That was going to be Cole’s next project, to get the storefront going again. There was no reason to be paying rent on it and not put it to use. He would broach that subject after the office itself was organized; for now he simply put things in piles of useful, trash, and things that could be sold (Char, he’d discovered already, had an awful lot of duplicate items, most likely from buying a new item any time he couldn’t find the old one).
Cole started with the giant pile of coats, sweaters, scarves, hats and gloves that were threatening to eat both client chairs. It didn’t seem to matter much that it was mid-May and therefore fairly sunny out, Char always bundled up, half the time even when inside. It had been worse when the boy had come back a few days ago from one of his cases, paler than normal, teeth chattering, and shaking like a leaf. When Cole had stopped him to see if he was okay, Char’s skin had been like ice and the necromancer had spent the next hour in the bathtub submersed in hot water and gulping down hot chocolate. Even now three days later he wore a long sleeve shirt, hoodie, and now jacket.
Shaking his head slightly, Cole moved the pile over to the small closet just off of the door and dropped it before going up to the apartment. There was a coat closet up there too, filled with hangers and Cole’s own meager store of clothing, bought with the ‘advance’ Char had given him upon discovering he only had two sets of clothes. Cole would have complained about feeling like a kept wife, but had long ago learned to take what others gave him without complaint. Smiling a bit as Laelaps trotted up to him, tail wagging, he gathered up an armful of hangers.
“Wanna come down to the shop with me, girl?” he asked her, and she barked happily, running circles around him. They had bonded well over the weeks; Cole would often take her out for her morning walks when Char refused to wake up that early.
Going down the stairs was much harder than going up them, since looking down seemed to trigger his vertigo even worse than looking straight ahead, but he managed without losing grip of the hangers. He set them down on the floor next to the closet, whistling, and opened the closet door.
With a yelp, he skipped backwards, narrowly evading the literal cascade of…stuff…that piled out. He stared at it somewhat hopelessly as Lae bounded into it, sniffing and barking happily. “Who the hell is his mother,” he asked the dog crossly, “A freaking packrat? Christ.” Lae didn’t answer him and with a grimace, he knelt down to gingerly gather some of the things up.
It took him nearly half an hour just to put everything from the closet into a pile next to it for him to go through later; there was no way he was tackling that project just yet. With a sigh, Cole sat down next to the pile of winter wear still on the floor, glaring half-heartedly at Lae, who was currently using them as her impromptu bed. Cole pulled her off and deposited her in his lap where she obediently curled up and fell back asleep, head resting on his thigh as he began the monotonous task of putting the coats on the hangers. When he was done (twenty-three in all, did the boy have an obsession or something?) he hung them up on the rail, organized by color and length because his OCD tendencies told him to. Once finished, he went in search of nails and hammer to turn the wall into a hat rack.
Pounding merrily away, he didn’t hear the sound of the bottle rolling off the top shelve until it bonked him, painfully, across the back of his skull. Cole cursed, clutching his head and glaring at the offending object. It looked like a champagne bottle, and when he picked it up, the label confirmed his suspicion. “The hell is this doing in here,” he snapped, still rubbing his head. “Is he a secret alky or something?” he asked Lae, who had come to investigate his grunts of pain. “Stashing away booze for safe keeping?” The hound sat down and cocked her head at him. “Or is he trying to hide it from me because he thinks I’m going to drink it all,” he muttered somewhat bitterly. He knew the necromancer watched him like a hawk for signs of drug use, unable to fully believe him when he said that night had been a fluke. He had pointed out that he wouldn’t have reacted so badly to whatever he had taken if he had been used to it, but Char didn’t seem to respond well to reason.
Cole snorted a bit, noticing the bottle had been opened and the cork shoved back in. “It’s probably gone bad anyways,” he said to Lae, working the cork out of the bottle. Lae barked sharply, and he glanced over just as the cork popped free with a hollow ‘thwock’. “What? What’s…” Cole trailed off as the smell of something that was not fermented champagne reached his nose. It was something spicy and exotic and he yelped as he looked back at the bottle, only to find it and his hand wreathed in a fine gray fog. He dropped the thing, backing up quickly as it rolled in a lazy circle on the closet floor. Lae was still barking, her hackles raised. “Shit. Shit shit shit shit…” The mist grew, slowly coalesced into a man shape, then solidified.
Cole blinked at the genderless being standing in front of him, hip cocked and arms folded in a way that was completely unlike ‘I Dream of Jeannie. As the being continued to solidify, Cole stared. When he finally managed to speak, he said the first thing to come to mind.
“I thought you guys were supposed to be blue?”
Word count: 31,173/ 50,000... I need to write another 827 words tonight but I dunno if its gonna happen. I'm having trouble with the current story, but it's only supposed to be around 6 or 7 pages...which almost makes it harder. Oh well.
The Banshee Child
“What are you looking for?”
Cole yelped as he startled, knee slipping off the kitchen counter where he perched, trying in vain to reach the cabinet above the refrigerator. He steadied himself then turned to glare at the necromancer, who was leaning easily against the island counter, arms crossed over a torn black sweater. The color washed the boy out even more than normal but made his green eyes blaze. “I hate that brat,” he said in answer to Char’s question, turning back towards the cabinet. Char chuckled as Cole carefully pulled himself up with the side of the refrigerator and reached for the cabinet door. “Why is there even a cabinet up here in the first place?” he muttered darkly. “It’s not like anyone can reach it without just about killing themselves.”
“I think it’s so demon children can hide in there and make things difficult,” Char said, stepping forward, head craned up to look at him with that enigmatic smile he always seemed to sport. “Alternatively, to store alcohol where it’s not so easily accessible. Do you want help?”
“That’s stupid,” he said softly, “I wouldn’t want to be doing this drunk. And no. I just…need…to…” He jerked opened the cabinet suddenly, reaching for Elina, the annoying banshee baby Char had picked up on a job a while ago. In the three weeks since Cole had moved in, it had been his job to care for her during the day and he was slowly but surely beginning to despise her.
The feeling was only deepened when sharp teeth closed around the web of his thumb. He growled, baring his teeth into the darkness. Elina let go and Cole had a bare second to flinch back as her mouth opened wide. “Oh shi-” the rest of his curse was drowned out with a piercing, nails on chalkboard scream that traveled straight through his ears and into his brain. Dizzy, he brought his hands up to clap them against his head but the world abruptly tilted as his eardrums rebelled. He lost balance, slipped and had barely a second to brace himself for the landing, cringing.
He hit something hard, but giving that let out a surprised grunt. Arms flailed around him before gripping tightly to his ribs. He hit the tiled ground hard, Char’s knee digging into his lower back. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his back. At least the brat had stopped screaming and was now leaning out of the cabinet and giggling down at them happily. Sticking his tongue out at her, he turned to look at Char, who was massaging the back of his head , sprawled out and leaning back against the island. “Ow,” he said deliberately.
“Sorry,” Cole said, wincing at the ringing in his ears. “Thanks for catching me,” he added. Char gave him a strange look, and pushed himself up.
“I wasn’t trying,” he informed Cole archly. “You fell on me, you freaking giant.” Cole snorted and pushed himself up, steadying himself as the world tilted again. He shook his head but that just made the disorientation and ringing worse. His ears were throbbing dully, but that was relatively normal after one of Elina’s screams.
“Ah. Yeah, that would be pretty silly for a shortie like you to try,” he said, feeling as if he were standing on a rocking boat.
“Dude, you don’t have to scream, I can…” Char trailed off. “Your ears are bleeding,” he said abruptly. Cole blinked and reached up to one lobe. His fingers came away wet and sticky and when he brought them before his eyes they were red.
“Huh,” he said, wincing as a sharp pain shot through his head. “Ow.” Char sighed, or at least Cole assumed he did by the movement of his chest, and turned to grab a hand towel. “What does that mean?”
Char grinned and ran the towel under the faucet, wringing it out before wrapping it around Cole’s head like an earmuff. “It means my little baby is growing up,” he said, voice faint over the ringing. He smirked. “I’ll give you something to help in a second. And maybe some earplugs. Hold this.” Cole took over pressing the towel around his head and the necromancer stepped back. He nimbly climbed up onto the counter and reached for Elina.
“Oh sweet Jesus don’t make her scream again,” Cole whimpered. Char glanced over his shoulder with a smug look, then turned back to the banshee girl.
“Come on, sweetpea.” He held out his arms to her and to Cole’s extreme annoyance she crawled right out of the cabinet and into Char’s arms. Smiling at her, he tickled her stomach and tugged lightly on her pale pigtails, making her squirm and giggle. “Go and get washed up, kitten. Dinner time soon.” With a giggle, she tottered off towards the bathroom, hissing at Cole as she passed him. Cole sneered back, then slumped against the counter with vertigo.
“I swear she hates me more every day,” he stated. Char nodded. “Why does she hate me?”
“Probably because you go against everything she stands for,” Char said. He held up a finger and disappeared for a moment, returning with a leather case, which he set on the counter next to Cole and opened. Inside were a several small bottles, pouches, and bundles of herbs. He hopped up on the counter next to them and began going through them, pulling them out, narrowing his eyes at it, then putting it back. The boy needed glasses but firmly denied it.
“What do you mean I go against everything she stands for?” he asked as Char set aside one of the bottles. Char glanced up, smiled a bit, and reached up to remove the towel.
“Technically, you should be dead,” he explained, reaching up to wipe at his ears a bit with one edge of the towel before grabbing his chin and tilting his head to one side. “This,” he touched the bracelet, “Is technically the only thing keeping you in your body. She’s a death omen, so she senses that. The longer you go on living, the less she understands the signals she’s getting from you, and the more it frustrates her. So she screams.” He grinned a little sheepishly. “Sorry, I kind of set you up. Didn’t think you’d last this long. Hold still.” He picked up the bottle and unscrewed it, using the dropper inside to drop a few drops of whatever liquid was in it into his ear. Almost immediately the ringing in his ear faded, as did some of the pressure he’d been feeling. He allowed the necromancer to repeat the motion in his other ear, sighing with relief as the annoying sound retreated completely. Char replaced the bottle into the kit and pulled out another one that smelled rank when he opened it. Cole looked at it suspiciously as Char filled another dropper and held it up.
“Whoa, wait. What exactly is that?” he asked, holding up one hand. Char rolled his eyes.
“Sesame oil, garlic, and ginger root,” he answered “charged with healing magic. It’ll help with the pain. Now tilt your head.” Grumbling under his breath, Cole let the other boy put the stinky concoction in his ear, begrudgingly admitting that it did help with the dull throbbing. “I don’t think she actually burst your eardrums, but if it still hurts in a couple days, we’ll take you to the doctor.” Char stepped away, closing the kit as Cole rubbed at one ear. When he stood, he was annoyed to notice the floor was still tilting under him.
“Got anything for vertigo?” he asked the other boy. Char grimaced and shook his head.
“Not anything that would help much. The eardrum’s probably a bit damaged, so anything I gave you wouldn’t do much. Just stay away from high places and hold on to the railing on the stairs. You’ll be fine.”
“Great,” Cole groaned, “Do I get worker’s comp?” Char nudged him out of the way with a smirk, going back down the hall.
“Nope!” he replied, “But I can give you ear plugs.” As he came back out with Elina in tow. “The good news is that she did it with me too for a while. You just have to win her over.” Cole groaned again feelingly as Char handed him two soft bits of bright orange foam. Elina went over to the kitchen table with a box of crayons, pulling herself up on to a chair before starting to color on the papers Cole had set out for her earlier before her impromptu hide and seek game.
“Can’t I just stick with Lae?” he asked pathetically, looking around as he fit the plugs into his ears. “Where is she anyways?” The chipper hound hadn’t come upstairs with her owner. Char’s muffled voice sounded from next to him but it was unintelligible. Cole scowled, fiddling with the plugs. If he couldn’t hear his boss, then the plugs weren’t going to work.
Char appeared before him, tugging him down slightly so they were more on level and brushed his hands away to fiddle with the plugs, mouth moving though Cole couldn’t hear it. He fought not to smirk; he’d learned early on that the necromancer could be sensitive about his 5’3” stature, especially since Cole was only a hair under 5’11” and therefore towered over him. Char seemed to catch his amusement anyways and rolled his eyes, flicking him on the forehead before saying in a tinny voice, “That better?”
“Yup,” Cole answered, standing back up straight. “Thanks.”
“No prob.” The necromancer turned away and opened the fridge to pull out some hamburger meat. Char was still in charge of cooking at night; Cole could manage eggs and bacon for breakfast, and sandwiches for lunch, but anything more complicated was beyond him. “I just had to tune them for you. Got them from Dr. Sharp when I first adopted her. Had to use ‘em for almost three months before she got used to me.” He grinned a sharp toothed grin. “Feel free to keep them as long as you want.”
“Gee, thanks,” Cole said dryly, going to the table and sitting down across from Elina. She shot him a suspicious glance, red crayon stilling, but eventually went back to her coloring. “So did you answer my question? Where’s Lae?”
“Still downstairs. She found a mouse, and you know how she is. She’ll be up in a bit, I’m sure.” Cole nodded absently, watching his boss and flat mate maneuver around the room as he cooked up hamburgers. The boy handled the kitchen like a pro, flipping hamburgers, adding spices, and double checking the vegetables he’d put on as well. He always whistled when cooking, and now was no different, although it sounded different through the earplugs.
“Isn’t cooking so much easier now that everything is organized and in its place?” Cole asked pointedly.
“No,” Char retorted, pulling open a drawer and riffling through it. “Where’s the tarragon?” Cole rolled his eyes.
“In the spice rack,” he reminded the boy, “with all the other spices. Alphabetically, so it should be near the bottom.” Char looked over at the wooden contraption Cole had handmade his first week there (he had always been good in shop class, while he was still in school), and scowled a bit before pulling out one of the labeled bottles.
“Ah. Well, that’s a smart place to put it,” he admitted grudgingly. Cole smiled beatifically at him and Char paused just a moment, staring at him slightly slack-mouthed. When Cole raised an eyebrow, he shook his head and pressed his lips tightly together. “You look like a dork with those earplugs,” he muttered before going back to cooking.
“So when are you going to let me get to work on that tornado you call an office?” he asked, just as he had nearly every night since finishing up the apartment. Char groaned and flipped off the stove burners, though he left the burgers still in the pan.
“You want cheese?” Cole nodded. “How about you, sweetpea?” Elina giggled and pumped one hand in the air, her sign for yes. Cole wondered idly if the banshee brat would ever start talking; she looked to be nearly three or four years already. Cole sincerely hoped not, since even her cute little giggles got on his nerves. Char nodded back at her with a goofy grin and went to get some cheese.
Cole growled, not amused. “You didn’t answer my question,” he stated flatly. Even though the other boy was turned away, Cole could practically see him rolling his eyes. In any case, his hip jutted out like it tended to when he was getting particularly stubborn.
“Really? I thought I had. Yesterday. And the day before, and the day before…”he trailed off before spinning abruptly, hands full of plates. With a sigh, Cole got up to take them from him, feeling mildly home-maker-esque and wondering if he should be disturbed. Instead all he felt was a fuzzy glow that was hampered only by the knowledge that the other boy refused to let him touch the downstairs.
“Yes, but those weren’t good answers, so now I have to try again,” he said flippantly. To Elina, he plastered on a fake smile and said in a sickly sweet voice, “Sweetpea, I need you to move your drawing stuff so we can eat on the table. Can you do that for me?” The little girl looked up with a mulish scowl on her face. Cole watched with horror as her mouth opened wide, cringing.
Quick as a jackrabbit, Char was between them, his hand clamped firmly over her mouth. “Elina!” he barked, and her icy blue eyes widened in shock over his hand. “No. You don’t scream at Uncle Cole, okay?” Her eyes widened further , glistening with tears, but she nodded. “Good girl,” he continued, moving his hand to pet her hair. “Now don’t cry. Just be good and move your things so we can eat, okay?” She nodded again, and gathered her things before sliding off the chair and trotting into the living room. Char sighed a breath of relief and shook his head. “I’m gonna have to talk to her,” he muttered as Cole began to set the table. “My eardrums can’t take much more of her either, even if the screams are meant for you.”
Cole nodded. “You’re pretty good with her,” he said, and Char shrugged, going back to get the food.
“I’ve got lots of cousins,” he explained. “We’re not so close anymore, but I practically raised some of them.” Cole glanced over at him, hearing the odd tone in his voice even through the ear plugs. From the look on his face, however, the human decided he should probably change the subject. He grinned a bit.
“So. Office? Make with the cleaning and the organizing and filing?” he asked impishly, steadying himself surreptitiously against the table as it threatened to move away from him. Char gave a long suffering sigh.
“Cole,” he said in a voice insultingly similar to the one he’d addressed Elina with, “I told you - I’m fine with the way it is now. I know where everything is. Besides, who knows what sort of dangerous stuff you could get into if you go messing around down there.” Cole raised an eyebrow as the other boy brought in the food and set it on the table.
“Technically your first rationalization for that pigsty would lead me to believe that you know what sort of dangerous stuff is down there.”
Char’s eyes crossed slightly. “Stop talking like a lawyer,” he grumbled, then shook his head. “That’s not the point. The point is that it’s not safe for humans. Case closed. Now shut up before I make Elina scream at you.”
Cole frowned and resisted the urge to stomp his foot. Then he decided that was silly and stomped it anyways. “Boss, come on! That mess can’t be good for business! Clients coming in are going to take one look at it and think you aren’t professional.”
Char froze, eyes narrowing angrily. “The people who come to me don’t care about a little mess,” he said icily. Cole briefly contemplated giving up, but that had never gotten him what he wanted in the past, it was unlikely to do so now.
“That’s not true,” he said, trying to soften the words. “Marise told me your biggest problem is people not taking you seriously because of your age. If you keep your office looking like a messy teenager’s room, that’s only going to make it worse.”
Cole flinched back as Char’s eyes blazed bright green and his hand slammed down on the table, rattling the dishware. He stood his ground though, glaring right back at him. Finally the unholy light seemed to fade, leaving his eyes their familiar frosted lawn color and he sagged against the table a bit. “Fine,” he said with a carefully controlled voice as he turned away. “You can do your thing down there. It’s not like you’re helping much with Elina, anyways,” he added snidely. Cole let the comment roll off his back; Char had a tendency to turn prickly when his pride was hurt or he was forced to do things he didn’t want. “But be careful! Try to move things around as little as possible, and don’t go reading any of the books or messing with the relics, okay?” Cole shrugged and nodded. What Char was saying would be impossible if he were to do a thorough job of organizing, but Cole also thought that Char had a tendency to underestimate him. Smiling happily, he nearly bounced into his chair as Char called Elina in to eat. Not even the little girl’s glares were enough to break his bad mood.
Starting tomorrow, he had his work cut out for him.
________________
Char winced as the sound of glass shattering interrupted his thoughts, and he glanced up from his copy of the Grimoire Sympathia. “Please tell me that was not my Orb of Thesulah you just smashed,” he said with a long suffering sigh. Cole glanced up from where he was picking up shards of glass, brushing strands of hair from his forehead where they had escaped the olive green handkerchief wrapped around his head. The homeless boy had cut the light blonde locks much shorter not long after moving onto the necromancer’s couch, but the front was still long enough to fall into clear brown eyes. Eyes which were now looking at him as if unsure whether he were being put on or not.
“Are you serious? Isn’t that from Buffy?” he asked incredulously. Char put on an angry place and lifted himself out of his plushy desk chair.
“They had to get some things right. And you just broke it. There was a vampire soul in there, damn it! Now it’s been released and who knows where it’s gone!”
Cole’s eyes widened almost impossibly as he glanced between the broken shard and Char, mouth working silently. “Oh my god,” he finally managed, sounding panicked. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I…I’ll help you find it, I swear, I’ll take Lae and track it down or something or…” Char couldn’t take it anymore and collapsed back into his chair, giggling.
“Relax, I’m just kidding,” he laughed as his assistant stared gape mouthed at him. “It’s just a replica. Zeus and Hera, the look on your face…”Char cracked up again.
“A replica,” Cole said flatly, staring down at the shards. Char shrugged, picking up the Grimoire and setting it on his lap, kicking his legs up onto the desk.
“I’m a fan, what can I say. Besides,” he smiled a bit, “Real orbs are extremely hard to get a hold of, and I don’t really need one, considering I can just pop on over and grab a soul any time I want.”
Cole stood up and dropped the glass in the trash can he had pulled over earlier in the day. “That,” he said in a an accusatory tone, “was really mean.” Char sighed and dropped his feet back to the door.
“Maybe,” he admitted. “But you’re lucky that wasn’t something that was actually dangerous. I warned you to be careful.”
As Cole finished cleaning up, he grumbled, “Wouldn’t be breaking shit if I could keep the ground under my feet.”
Char frowned, looking down at his book. “Yeah, well, I’m working on that.” Cole looked up, interested. “In the meantime, do me a favor and stick to paper, would you?” The other boy nodded, winding around the various stacks to lean over Char’ chair, pushing the back down a bit so he could see better.
“What’s that?”
Char tapped the open pages of the book, shifting a bit so Cole wasn’t breathing against the sensitive skin of his neck. “Grimoire Sympathia. It’s basically a listing of all the spirits f various healing plants, minerals, and stones, and how to invoke them. I figure since traditional healing herbs won’t work, we might as well try this, if I can find the right one. I,” he paused, grimaced a bit. “I’d rather not take you to the doctor around here if at all possible.”
Cole leaned closer so he could look at the book better. Char twitched, one shoulder coming up automatically. “Why not?” he breathed against his ear. Char scowled, reached up, and shoved the boy away by the face.
“Dude, could you stop that?” Cole looked confused, but pulled away, moving around to sit on the desk and take the book from Char so he could flip through it. Char shot him a dirty look but let him. “I don’t want to bring you to her because she’s a vampire, and likes to push things. Plus, she’s a bitch.” He shook his head. “Anyways, it’d be better to find a solution that doesn’t involve paying for an appointment each time it happens.”
Cole look up sharply from the book. “Each time it happens?” he squawked. “You planning on this happening again?” Char shrugged uneasily, feeling a bit guilty.
“Well she’s not likely to stop screaming at you any time soon. So until you two get along or we find her a good home, yes, it’s likely to happen again. Believe me, I’m about as happy about this as you are.”
“Can’t we just…duct tape her mouth or something?” he muttered, flipping through the book. He paused on one page near the back. “Hey, what about this one?” He spun the book around and pointed at one of the pictures. Char leaned forward squinting a bit as the words blurred a bit before straightening out.
“Hmm,” he said scanning over the page quickly. “Amethyst? It is a general healing stone, one of the best but….”
“It also says that it’s good for ears,” Cole added, pointing a bit further down the page, under the instructions for invocation. He was nowhere near as good with stones as he was with plants, which was why he had concentrated on the herbal section of the book. But stones lasted longer, which would mean he wouldn’t have to use the spell every time Elina screamed. Still, amethyst by itself would be unlikely to help much; it would heal faster, but wouldn’t do anything for the vertigo, which was the main problem. Char flipped pages as his mind started clicking through possible combinations. This was the part he loved, what he had spent most of his younger years learning with his witch mother before he had grown into the capabilities inherited from his father. Spells, theories, charm-making…he’d been good at it; unfortunately hedge-witches were a dime a dozen, while those who could waltz into death on a whim were, as far as he could tell narrowed down to one. Even the other necromancers could not do so without a significant detriment to their souls; most were confined to calling spirits into this world through ceremony, hence his comment about the Orb of Thesulah. His path had been chosen for him by default.
“You know there’s an index in the back, right?” Char blinked, then glanced up at Cole.
“There is?” Cole grinned and nodded.
“How d’you think I found the amethyst, luck? I looked up ears.” Feeling like an idiot, Char flipped to the back and sure enough, several indexes, one of which catalogued the contents by ailments, were listed.
“Thanks,” he muttered, quickly cross-referencing ears and vetigo and coming up with only one possibility that showed up under both. He flipped to the page on Lapis Lazuli. “I think this one might work better,” he murmured, reading quickly down the page. “Usually used for depression and mental clarity, but it says it also aids in dizziness, vertigo, and cellular reconstruction in the ear.” He frowned, thinking. If he combined it with the amethyst, and perhaps some sesame oil, then invoked the spirits of all of them…” Are your ears pierced?” he asked. Cole raised an eyebrow.
“They were. Several times. Sold the earrings for cash several months ago. They’re probably closed up by now. Why? Am I getting some pretty new jewelry?” Char grinned, ignoring his curiosity about the young man’s past as always, and stood up.
“Maybe. Stay here and man the office, would you? I’m going to get some supplies, ask some advice.” He grabbed a knee-length jacket off one of the chairs supposedly set up for clients and an old fashioned fedora, putting them on as he continued talking. “If a customer comes by, take a name and number and…what?” Cole was snickering.
“Of course, detective. Should I be expecting a lady in red?” Char blinked, then scowled, shoving the fedora onto Cole’s head and replacing it with a beanie as the boy laughed.
“Ah, screw you,” he snapped, only half joking. “I’ll be back in an hour or so.” He gave the other boy a dry look. “Try not to break anything else, okay? Oh,” he glanced back just before going out the door. “Call Shea? Ask him if he can take care of Elina one more day.” The look of relief on Cole’s face was both amusing and pathetic at the same time. Shaking his head, he left; this was something he wanted to talk to his mother about.
______________
Cole watched the necromancer leave, pulling the fedora low over his forehead. He waited until he heard the bell ring on the outside door before hopping off the desk and getting back to work, ignoring the vertigo. Char’s office was actually the back room of the store; the front room was set up like a typical store, complete with an old fashioned cash register, but was more or less abandoned, the shelves empty and dusty with disuse. That was going to be Cole’s next project, to get the storefront going again. There was no reason to be paying rent on it and not put it to use. He would broach that subject after the office itself was organized; for now he simply put things in piles of useful, trash, and things that could be sold (Char, he’d discovered already, had an awful lot of duplicate items, most likely from buying a new item any time he couldn’t find the old one).
Cole started with the giant pile of coats, sweaters, scarves, hats and gloves that were threatening to eat both client chairs. It didn’t seem to matter much that it was mid-May and therefore fairly sunny out, Char always bundled up, half the time even when inside. It had been worse when the boy had come back a few days ago from one of his cases, paler than normal, teeth chattering, and shaking like a leaf. When Cole had stopped him to see if he was okay, Char’s skin had been like ice and the necromancer had spent the next hour in the bathtub submersed in hot water and gulping down hot chocolate. Even now three days later he wore a long sleeve shirt, hoodie, and now jacket.
Shaking his head slightly, Cole moved the pile over to the small closet just off of the door and dropped it before going up to the apartment. There was a coat closet up there too, filled with hangers and Cole’s own meager store of clothing, bought with the ‘advance’ Char had given him upon discovering he only had two sets of clothes. Cole would have complained about feeling like a kept wife, but had long ago learned to take what others gave him without complaint. Smiling a bit as Laelaps trotted up to him, tail wagging, he gathered up an armful of hangers.
“Wanna come down to the shop with me, girl?” he asked her, and she barked happily, running circles around him. They had bonded well over the weeks; Cole would often take her out for her morning walks when Char refused to wake up that early.
Going down the stairs was much harder than going up them, since looking down seemed to trigger his vertigo even worse than looking straight ahead, but he managed without losing grip of the hangers. He set them down on the floor next to the closet, whistling, and opened the closet door.
With a yelp, he skipped backwards, narrowly evading the literal cascade of…stuff…that piled out. He stared at it somewhat hopelessly as Lae bounded into it, sniffing and barking happily. “Who the hell is his mother,” he asked the dog crossly, “A freaking packrat? Christ.” Lae didn’t answer him and with a grimace, he knelt down to gingerly gather some of the things up.
It took him nearly half an hour just to put everything from the closet into a pile next to it for him to go through later; there was no way he was tackling that project just yet. With a sigh, Cole sat down next to the pile of winter wear still on the floor, glaring half-heartedly at Lae, who was currently using them as her impromptu bed. Cole pulled her off and deposited her in his lap where she obediently curled up and fell back asleep, head resting on his thigh as he began the monotonous task of putting the coats on the hangers. When he was done (twenty-three in all, did the boy have an obsession or something?) he hung them up on the rail, organized by color and length because his OCD tendencies told him to. Once finished, he went in search of nails and hammer to turn the wall into a hat rack.
Pounding merrily away, he didn’t hear the sound of the bottle rolling off the top shelve until it bonked him, painfully, across the back of his skull. Cole cursed, clutching his head and glaring at the offending object. It looked like a champagne bottle, and when he picked it up, the label confirmed his suspicion. “The hell is this doing in here,” he snapped, still rubbing his head. “Is he a secret alky or something?” he asked Lae, who had come to investigate his grunts of pain. “Stashing away booze for safe keeping?” The hound sat down and cocked her head at him. “Or is he trying to hide it from me because he thinks I’m going to drink it all,” he muttered somewhat bitterly. He knew the necromancer watched him like a hawk for signs of drug use, unable to fully believe him when he said that night had been a fluke. He had pointed out that he wouldn’t have reacted so badly to whatever he had taken if he had been used to it, but Char didn’t seem to respond well to reason.
Cole snorted a bit, noticing the bottle had been opened and the cork shoved back in. “It’s probably gone bad anyways,” he said to Lae, working the cork out of the bottle. Lae barked sharply, and he glanced over just as the cork popped free with a hollow ‘thwock’. “What? What’s…” Cole trailed off as the smell of something that was not fermented champagne reached his nose. It was something spicy and exotic and he yelped as he looked back at the bottle, only to find it and his hand wreathed in a fine gray fog. He dropped the thing, backing up quickly as it rolled in a lazy circle on the closet floor. Lae was still barking, her hackles raised. “Shit. Shit shit shit shit…” The mist grew, slowly coalesced into a man shape, then solidified.
Cole blinked at the genderless being standing in front of him, hip cocked and arms folded in a way that was completely unlike ‘I Dream of Jeannie. As the being continued to solidify, Cole stared. When he finally managed to speak, he said the first thing to come to mind.
“I thought you guys were supposed to be blue?”