FIC: Some Practical Magick, Part Two
Title: Some Practical Magick, Part Two
Pairings: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto, Joe Quinto/Karl Urban, Eric Bana/Zachary Quinto
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: A brief mention of animal abuse, domestic violence and senseless brutality, murder and mayhem, language, sex of dubious consent and with consent, blood-letting, four not-Pinto character deaths, and religious and occult subjects.
Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Author Notes
“Dad! Dad-“
Zach pulled the covers over his head and groaned. “Indoor voice, please.”
He felt hands poking him through the blanket. “Dad, why are you still in bed?” He felt another poke. “Daddy, get up.” Poke, poke. “Dad?”
Zach sighed and mentally prepared for the barrage of sunlight as he pulled down the covers.
“Because, babe-“ he blinked a few times to see Zoe’s questioning face staring down at him. “I’m just tired.”
“It’s noon! Auntie Marie says it’s lunchtime.”
“Then you should go eat.” He reached again for the covers and found a set of hands blocking him.
“She says she’s holing my sandwich sausage ‘til you come down,” Zoe stated with too much seriousness.
Zach rubbed his face, knowing instantly he was going to lose this one. “Tell her you’re a vegetarian.”
Zoe pinned him with a look. “No.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “No?”
“We made a special soup for you.” She grabbed at his arm and tugged hard. “You have to come try it.”
“What sort of soup?”
“Get well soup.”
“What’s in this soup?” Zach’s arm bounced up and down like a zombie as he made no effort to help at all, and he quirked a lip. “It’s not stone soup again, is it?”
But Zoe kept tugging, letting a whine seep into her voice. “Please, Daddy? You’ve been sick for months. You need soup.”
That sobered him up pretty quickly, and he thickly swallowed. “Okay-okay, Zo.”
It was more difficult than it should have been, willing himself to put feet to the floor. But Zoe climbed onto the bed and moved around him, pushing with all her weight against his back.
It knocked the wind out of him with an oof. “I’m going, babe!” She kept pushing and he chuckled. “Zoe-“
She shoved again, and Zach reached around to grab her hands. “I’m good-I promise. I’ll get up.”
Zach managed to pull her to the side, where Zoe sat on her knees on the bed. Her brown eyes anxiously watched his-tense and obsessive, waiting for him to make the slightest move.
It was disconcerting, and Zach leaned forward for a quick kiss to her forehead. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
Zoe was his worrywart-constantly fretting that the sky was falling, paranoid about everything. Three months ago, Eric could’ve given her a bright smile and wiped it all away-said the right words, known the perfect solutions to her intricate six-year-old anxieties. His mere presence would frighten ghosts away, his deep voice would make monsters run for the hills-and he knew the answers to every math problem, the words to all her favorite songs, the ways to make her happy again.
Zach swallowed a lump in his throat and tried a smile of his own. But Zoe only fell forward and gripped him, fingertips digging into his skin as she burrowed her face into his side.
“Don’t go away,” she said in a small voice, muffled against his t-shirt.
Zoe clung to him, and Zach whispered all the promises in the world-unsure if they would ever be true, but hoping that they could be.
***
Dear Joey - Sorry it’s been a while. Things have been hectic around here lately, you know how it is.
We’re finally settled in, and the kids seem to be doing okay. Thankfully Zoe has the same school. Mama is thrilled to have us here, of course - and Auntie Marie is thrilled in her own, special way. Siouxsie Sioux less so. (Noah is finding that out quickly, although dimwittingly.)
Anton has always latched onto Mama, but it’ll probably amuse you to know that Zoe and Auntie Marie are now thick as thieves. I don’t know exactly what they’re up to, but Zoe is growing a green thumb - she has her own line of herbs on the kitchen sill right next to Auntie Marie’s, and they are doing well. I guess that’s how I started, way back when. Mine were basil and thyme; hers are parsley, mint, and lavender. She sings to them, just like I used to.
Zoe is also in your old room. And since we’re adults and can be mature about this - care to finally tell me where all your secret cubbys are? I thought Mama always knew, but she isn’t dishing if she does. I swear I won’t steal your gum from ’86, I just - Zoe has a journal and a jewelry box that she used to hide under the bed, filled with photos and cards and things, and they’re missing now.
I guess she’s like you, in that way. You always hid your book of shadows, even from me. I had my journal out for the world to read, trusting too much that no one would look at it - never considering that Mama actually would.
I have my old room here, too. I’m back in the attic. Anton’s crib is near me, although he’s getting too big for one. It used to be my sanctuary up here - enough space for me to dream big, enough quiet to study or play my music really loud. Enough space to pace the floorboards - especially after that night you left, and I had to figure out what to tell Mama.
It’s just strange to view it with new eyes. Where I had space to pace before, now it’s crowded and filled with boxes. I didn’t want to put Eric’s trophies in the basement - did you know he was in a bowling league? Those awards are obnoxiously tall.
Anton walks around and touches everything, his terrible twos now in full force. I never realized how horrible this house was for kids until we came back - three flights of stairs, antiques everywhere, child hazards wherever I look. Mama has more patience for these things, and thank Gods, because I’m too exhausted to watch his every move. They finally fixed that lock on the back door - Anton is our new Houdini, and Noah and Harold take advantage whenever they can.
The neighbors smiled and welcomed me back. Funny how that was different when we were growing up. Just wait until Noah digs up their flowerbeds.
Love you. I hope things are okay where you are - Zach
***
Dear Z - Have you ever seen a Rose of Jericho?
You’re the family herbalist, although Auntie Marie taught both of us - lavender for a headache, mint for a sick stomach, belladonna for sleeplessness. Thyme for nightmares, dandelion for divination on the full moon. So maybe you’ve heard of it, maybe you haven’t.
I was at a friend’s place last Saturday, and she handed me this thing that looked like a miniature sagebrush - some tumbleweed in the palm of my hand. I didn’t know what it was until she told me to water it. Told me to water it, watch it, and maybe try to learn something for a change.
I told her sure, I was out of subjects - but it’s not like I was bored enough to film mold. But she was having none of it, holding the keys to the place and the couch I was sleeping on. So she brought out a pie tin, filled it with water, and ordered me to just watch.
Apparently the Rose of Jericho does come from the Middle East. That isn’t a divergent point, as I started observing the only way I knew how - a photo every 30 minutes.
Zach, I don’t know how it does it, I’m no genius. But the dead and brown tumbleweed suddenly flourished into green, and folded out with the quick passage of time. Before it was like a closed fist, keeping the heart of it shielded, like a flower before blossom. But once the roots touched water it was gone - long tendrils stretching out, reaching out, unfolding itself.
I have a series of photos, one seemingly more beautiful than the next. I didn’t know what to do with them, except send them to you.
Zach, we both grew up so broken hearted. I know we dealt with this in different ways. You kept your head down and charged forward into the world - your plate of armor your wit and intelligence, the ability to strike down any foe with a stern look. You never let anybody in, and anyone that was lucky enough usually walked through fire first.
I don’t know if Eric walked through fire. But what I do know is that so many people love you, and would gladly fall into the flame to see you well again - count me as one of those.
If you don’t keep watering the Rose of Jericho it shrivels up again, turning into the same brown tumbleweed as before. Closing its heart, shedding its green. Miserable and dejected, perhaps - but I see each of those tendrils as a finger stretching out, looking to be dyed by the first drop of moisture, hungrily waiting. What once was green and turned to death can be woken again. Lay the photos side by side, and you can’t even tell where it begins or ends.
I love you, Zach. Please take care of yourself, and say hi to Anton and Little Z for me. And no, I’ll never tell you where the secret cubbys are - my lips are forever sealed - Joey
***
“Zach. Zaaa-ach.”
Zach squeezed his eyes tight, listening keenly to the voice. It was so familiar, yet one that was usually reserved for dreams.
“Baby brother, come on.”
Zach tried to remain sleeping, just for a little while longer-until he felt a painful thwack to the temple.
“Hey, wake the fuck up.”
At that his eyes did fly open-seeing Joey mere inches from his face, grinning wickedly against a floral pillowcase in the darkness.
Zach reached out quickly and squeezed an arm. “Joe? Joey-“
Joey put a finger to his lips, although they quirked up in amusement. “Indoor voice, please.” He looked to the side. “Anton’s asleep.”
Zach bit his bottom lip to keep from giggling. “What are you doing here?”
Joey sighed dramatically. “Oh, I don’t know. I was just passing through the neighborhood, when I heard that my brother had been ill for the last six months. Thought I’d stop by.”
Zach let his hand drop, his mind fumbling with words to say but settling on a, “That’s nice of you.”
“Have to go back in the morning, but-“ Joey wrinkled his nose. “Have you showered lately?”
“How did you get out?” Zach said, self-conciously touching his hair. “New York’s far.”
“Nah, I slipped Karl something and drove his car-but really, laundry? Ever?”
Zach swallowed. “It’s good to see you.”
Joey snorted. “Wish I could say the same. You look like shit.”
Zach made a face. “Screw you.”
“Ever hear of sunlight? Does wonders. Same with fresh air.”
Zach sighed and rolled onto his back. “I think I know where this is going.”
But there was only silence in the minutes afterwards, as Zach’s eyes traced the slanted ceiling of his attic bedroom. He waited and waited-until he turned his head to see Joey watching him.
Joey opened his mouth, closed it, then, “Do you remember how Mama was after Pop died?”
Zach nodded. She had gotten up and taken care of them, but she had been a recluse in the house for months. A school conference had been a big outing, pajamas the uniform for every day.
“You’re going to say I’m like Mama.”
Joey shook his head. “No, I was going to say you’re worse than Mama.”
“You don’t understand, Joe.”
“And you don’t understand what I’m getting at.”
Sheets rustled as Joey snuck under them and curled up to Zach’s side. “You want to hear a story?”
“No.”
“So when we first moved in here-right after Pop died-I was absolutely convinced my bedroom was haunted.”
Zach huffed a breath. “Yep. We had to sprinkle salt around the edges of the room and everything to get you to go to sleep.”
Joey touched Zach’s arm, his body leaning more into view. “It never worked though, remember? I think by the third week Mama was convinced it was all in my head, and you avoided my room entirely.”
“I hate ghosts.”
“I know.”
Joey glanced over at Anton’s crib for a moment, then looked back at Zach. “Anyway, that’s when Auntie Marie figured it out.”
Zach narrowed his brows. He hadn’t heard this part of the story before.
“One night she came in and slept with me-you used to have nightmares, so Mama must have been busy with you. So we laid in this little twin bed, both of us squished together, while I waited for her to finally see the ghost I was talking about.”
There was a pause, and Zach turned his head to watch him-more confused by the serene look on Joey’s face.
“And then it appeared, right before us.”
Zach frowned. “She never told us this.”
“Because after that it never happened again.”
“Did you tell it to go away?”
Joey shook his head. “No. It was-it was nothing like that.” He leaned closer, his breath a whisper in his ear. “I thought it was Pop.”
Zach had never heard this either.
“I kept seeing him, this figure pressed against my chest. His face inches from mine, whispering words I couldn’t hear.”
“Gods, Joey-fuck.”
“And I was pointing and crying, and I practically hit Auntie Marie in the face-until she grabbed me and told me something very important.”
Zach had a hint of this. “Ghosts can’t hurt you.”
Joey made a so-so motion with his hand. “That. But also that I couldn’t let them scare me, or ruin my life, without me letting them. They live off anger and fear, you know. Guilt, too.”
Zach scrunched his brow. “So what happened?”
“The moment I accepted and believed that, the ghost went away-the feelings of it went away. And I never saw it again.”
Joey removed a hand from under the covers, letting it hover mere inches above Zach’s chest. “I’m not psychic, Zach. Auntie Marie is, and she saw nothing.”
He laid his palm down, and Zach laid his hand on top; feeling reassurance in the rough skin under his fingers.
“Zach, it was just my grief. It was easier to be scared of a ghost than to be scared of life without Pop. Pop… would never have done that.”
“I’m sorry, Joe.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Joey watched his face. “I’m sorry you’re letting this ghost hurt you and rob you of your life.”
Zach watched the hands move with the shudder of his chest. “Joe-“
“You can’t help it, right? You’re just so damn tired, and you can’t help it.”
Zach bit his lip. “I can’t.”
“You’re wrong, Zach. You completely can. You can sit up and decide you can still live after losing him.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“No, you’re right. After you sit up, you’ll want to lie right back down again. But you won’t. Because you’ll remember you have two babies who miss you-a big brother that misses you, too.”
Zach closed his eyes. “They keep coming up here.”
A hand pressed against his face. “Then go down to them. Eat breakfast with them. Then call your doctor and schedule physicals for all of you, so you have an excuse to admit you’re depressed.”
“I don’t want meds.”
“Fine, then tell Auntie Marie and she’ll fix something for you. Just tell somebody. Don’t lie here in the dark, thinking nobody cares or wants to listen to you.”
Zach’s eyes felt warm and tight, and he opened them slowly. “Okay.”
“And do it today. Do it when you wake up. Sleep one last night with the ghost, then say goodbye.”
Zach turned on his side and burrowed his face into Joey’s shoulder. “I don’t want to.”
“But you will. And you’ll be so glad you did.” Joey kissed the top of his head. “Love you, Z. If you can’t take care of yourself for the kids, or for you, then take care of yourself for me-please?”
Zach let out the sobs he’d been holding back, the balm Joey’s fingers rubbing lazy circles into his side. Maybe he had sobbed hours, maybe he had fallen asleep right away. But his eyes were sore and the light suddenly too bright when dawn finally woke him, the sun bleeding through curtains as Anton dropped a cloth book over the side of his crib.
Zach stretched out his limbs, knowing instantly that the familiar warmth of Joey was gone. But he tried not to be disappointed in that, catching Anton’s eyes as he tried to sit up.
“Hey, baby,” he said softly, his voice still rough and craggy. But when Anton beamed him a bright smile, giggling with devilish glee as he threw another book on the floor, it was incredibly infectious.
“Breakfast,” Zach concluded, lifting Anton into his arms.
Though it was an ordinary Thursday morning, Zach waited for Zoe in the kitchen-still in his pajamas, yet he had bowls of cereal poured for all of them.
Later as he watched Zoe board the school bus from a window, he took a deep breath for the obstacle that was the rest of his day. But he played with Anton, did a batch of laundry, and badly hummed to the potted herbs on the kitchen sill, Here Comes the Sun.
***
It had been hard to let the depression go. It had been a warm cocoon that numbed him to life, familiar and safe. But eventually the passage of time had won out, making things fade to almost bearable.
His heart was still a peeled scab of raw and stinging skin, but he was willing to breathe in cold realities, now. Painful, sure-but once Zach stepped back into the stream life, determination kept him anchored there, unwilling to let him drown.
There were also herbal remedies and spells. Tea, friends. Medication.
But mostly it was watching Zoe and Anton grow up. Zoe, a solemn girl that was perhaps too curious for her own good, but intelligent and full of confidence. Anton, going from sporadic words to sentences to getting his hair chopped-and the beautiful curls going along with it.
Zach was so proud of them. They constantly amazed him, and he genuinely enjoyed their company-despite Anton going through a knock-knock joke phase that seemed to never end. But they somehow made everything work, picking up the pieces of a tattered past and sewing together a new future.
In fact, things started to seem almost… normal. Like that was the way life had always been. Tragedy became a faded wallpaper, and even the harsh realities of regular life seemed to miss and skip over them.
Until-
After Anton’s first day of school, Zoe dragged him into the herbal shop and slammed and locked the door behind them.
Zach got down from his stepstool, taking in her harried and anxious expression. “What’s going on?”
But the chant echoed off the windows, despite voices struggling to join in unison.
“Witch, witch, you’re a witch! Witch, witch, you’re a witch!”
Anton looked up at him. “Dad, can’t we just curse them all?”
Zoe slapped his shoulder. “No. It’s against the Rede-‘an it harm none, do what thou wilt’.”
Anton made a face and rubbed his arm. “Dad, Zoe just-“
Zach waved them off. “Anton, don’t whine. Zoe, hitting isn’t in the Rede, either.” Not that Zach believed or remembered the Wiccan Rede.
As he moved between them, Zoe frowned. “No it isn’t-“
Zach put a hand out to shush her as he peeked around the window shade, raising an eyebrow at the adults he saw among the mob.
“Witch, witch, you’re a witch!”
“You’d think after hundreds of years they’d learn something new,” Zach muttered to himself, then twisted the blinds closed with a heavy sigh.
***
Dear Joey - How are things? It seems like forever since I last heard from you. Actually, checking your letters, it’s been a month. What’s going on? Your cell got turned off.
I wanted to send you school pictures. Anton just smiles that way, like a Munster, I have no idea why. Zoe of course got dolled up by Mama, which explains why she looks about to murder someone - Auntie Marie laughed for days about that.
Both are doing well in school. Zoe is still my over-achiever, somehow juggling ballet and flute practice. Anton is the class flirt and talks too much - I know, shocking. At the end of the month they both have school concerts, if you’re up for it. Zoe has a flute solo, and Anton is going to try synchronized partner dancing - don’t worry, I’ll take video, if nothing else. I think Anton even has to dress up like a tree.
Anyway, they’re okay, but - I guess I wanted to call because of the stupid witch-chanting. It’s started up again - practically the same freaking people, too. I suppose it was only a matter of time, although Zoe had avoided it for the most part. Rumor has it that Anton tried to curse a bully on his first day of school, and that’s what set it off. But where he set it off, Zoe apparently finished it - where one goes, the other follows. Just like we used to be.
My wishes never stood a chance, did they?
Despite my warnings, Zoe has dipped her hands into everything. It started innocently enough with letting her help Auntie Marie in the garden, and the rest was history. I knew it was beyond fixing when I found a charm bag in her backpack made of green felt, filled with daffodil petals and caraway seeds. For success at school, I imagine.
I know Auntie Marie and Mama were encouraging the magick work, but - you? Et tu, Joey? She’s been experimenting with the Tarot, and I swear it’s the same Morgan Greer deck you used to use.
So now Zoe joins me at the shop, helping me mix lotions and scented bath oils, picking my brain for every speck of information I know. And when we get home, she tries to talk me into the esbats and sabbats - one side is Zoe, and the other is Mama and Auntie Marie, all of them conning me into just one ritual.
So, I had my blow-up. And while I screamed and yelled at Auntie Marie for her audacity of indoctrinating my children, she pointed out what I still believed - never stopped believing, really.
I still celebrated the traditional holidays. I couldn’t give up Beltane, or Mabon, or sharing Samhain with the kids. I never stopped observing the phases of the moon when I was gardening, or took the fenugreek out of my wallet, or was unkind to the Earth. Hell, I still used that spell for a string of green lights on busy mornings.
Once a witch, I guess you’re always a witch. It was like a piece of me was missing, but I wouldn’t acknowledge it. I still haven’t entirely, but… I am getting there. Slowly. Zoe is chipping away at my resolve.
Anton participates now, although I would’ve taught him the shielding spell, regardless. The bullies seemed to have left him alone - although whether it’s from imagining white light around him or Zoe’s fierce stare, your guess is as good as mine.
Joey - I don’t have a good feeling in my gut. I wish I could be there, the fierce sibling to protect you. I won’t ask, but I won’t stop worrying about you. But just know there’s always room at the shop. Hell, I could certainly use a photographer for advertisements.
I love you, Joey - take care of yourself. Your Little Z says hi. Anton, however, is too busy running amuck in the garden - Gods, he’s so much like you, it must be karmic revenge - Zach
***
Dear Z - Sorry, life has been hectic lately. One of my pieces got a complaint at a gallery, I got thrown off a shoot while I was in Central Park, one of my clients won’t pay up - life has been kind of a whirl. When I’m not sleeping or taking care of Karl, it seems I forget there are other things in life. I’m sorry, Zach.
Taking a moment before work to write down that I’m okay. Yeah, the phone got turned off, unfortunately. Karl hurt his back on a production, and he got thrown off a show - he’s getting disability, but it’s not a lot. So he’s been laying around here upset and bored, and I have to pick up some slack. That’s what you do when you love each other, I guess - Gods, we’ve been together some ten years now. I can’t even imagine.
But next week I leave for a small gig in LA - so far away. It’s strange how my heart was set on New York, and I’ve never seemed to have left it. But there’s a man out there who likes my work, and he’s paying for me to go. What a great opportunity - I want to do it, I really want to go. See what the beaches are like, what the clubs are like. There’s a big museum out there, although nothing like MoMA. But maybe I’ll run into a movie star and get his autograph - you never know. I should buy some shades for the occasion.
Karl is… well, less than pleased. But you know how he gets.
I’ll bring back some sand and shells for you guys. I love you all. Oh - and I can’t say I’m not pleased about Little Z. I guess now you know why I never told you about the secret cubbys. I’m so glad you’ve returned to us, welcome home - Joey
***
He grabbed the cordless absently. “Hello?”
”Zach?”
The dishes dropped in the sink as Zach looked up sharply. “Joe?”
There was shattered breathing on the line, then a whispered, ”Zach, I-I want to come home.”
Zach turned from the kitchen counter and marched into the living room. “I’ll come, Joey. Let me tell Mama-“
”Zach, I love you.”
“I love you too-are you okay?” The last Zach asked hesitantly, hoping like hell Joey wouldn’t hang up.
Instead there was a pause, before a very quiet, ”No. I went to LA, and-Zach, he followed me here. He wouldn’t let me go to the shoot.”
Zach took a deep breath. “Are you hurt?”
”No.”
“Is he there with you?”
”No.”
Zach looked around quickly for a pad and pen. “Can I convince you to call the cops?”
There was a moment before another, ”No.”
Zach uncapped the pen angrily. “Tell me where you are.”
The scrawl tore lines into the paper. But after assuring Joey he’d be there soon, Zach hung up and ran out into the yard. He was out of breath when he informed Mama and Auntie Marie, but it didn’t stop him from running back inside and hurrying frantically throughout the house.
***
Zach slung the small duffel bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Call us when you’re there,” Auntie Marie said. “Hell, call the cops now and then call us from the station.”
Zach shook his head. “I don’t think so. Joe would probably hide Karl, switch hotels, and I’d never see him again. I can’t risk it.”
Mama bit her lip. “Are you sure?”
Zach wasn’t, but he nodded anyway. “We’re on the next flight after I land. We’ll be home before you know it.”
He hugged Mama tightly, hoping he had reassured her. He then turned towards Zoe and Anton, bending down to hug them as well. “You two be good.” He kissed their cheeks. “Listen to Grandma and Oma.”
Zoe gave him a strange look. “Dad, we’re just going to the equinox festival. It’s not a big deal.”
Zach huffed a humorless laugh, giving a dirty look to Mama. “Are you kidding me?”
She gave him a patient smile. “They accept all ages, dear.”
“Yeah, I remember-and all the naked people dancing under the full moon!” Zach said tersely, straightening to glare at the adults.
But Auntie Marie remained unfazed and piped up, “But nudity is optional.”
“Right,” Zach said, vaguely remembering all the nude belly dancers he saw as a child, their expanses of flesh burned into his memory. But he didn’t have time to argue. “Fine-have fun you guys.” He ruffled Anton’s hair. “I’m sorry you’re about to be traumatized.”
“It’s a life experience, dear!”
But Zach didn’t stay to retort, waving at all of them before he raced out to his car. Truth be told he was more concerned with catching a flight to someone he loved in California, rather than all the fat naked people his children would probably see at a hippie festival.
***
Zach thought that with all the inventions of modern technology somebody would’ve made a flight less than ten fucking hours.
The projected seven had already been difficult to swallow, with the layover in Memphis making him silently rage. There was a mechanical failure, of course-screw the Fates and their meddling ways-and by the end of it all, Zach had half a mind to just walk to Los Angeles. By 6pm, after hours of sitting, he was about to strangle the hostess with all his Snickers wrappers knotted end-to-end if someone didn’t move something to get him closer to his brother.
Thankfully, after praying endlessly to the Gods in his head, an unexpected route had arrived in record time. Their former projection of twelve hours went down to ten, and Zach tried to thank his lucky stars and deities. But his legs bounced too anxiously, his head unable to rest on the pillow like those around him on the late-evening flight.
Eventually near 1am his plane landed, and he ran to the first taxi he saw to give them the hotel address.
Zach had called from a pay phone numerous times-each time unanswered, each time causing his nerves to unravel even more. Auntie Marie had probably been right. Gods, if Joey died, Zach would never forgive himself-would never be able to look Mama in the eye, or tell his children what happened to their beloved uncle.
But the taxi dropped him off at a skeezy motel on the outskirts of LA, with cracked pavement and a green swimming pool the only things he saw in the nighttime. Few cars were parked in the lot for a late Thursday evening, and Zach began to wonder if he even had the right address.
Lights flickered overhead as he sought out the room number-109, 110, 111. Zach climbed a flight of creaky outside stairs and finally saw 213.
He tried to glance through the window, although it was covered in blinds. He briefly wondered if he should knock. The room was dark, and maybe Joey was trying to get some sleep-or maybe Karl was in there, keeping his brother quiet. Or worse, maybe no one was in there at all, confirming his worse fears and making Zach too late.
He tried the handle, and was surprised to find the door had been kept slightly ajar. “Joey?” Zach said quietly, slowly peeking inside.
The room looked unoccupied. The bedspread not even rumpled, the dresser and table immaculate with stationary and folded towels. The only exception was a figure on the floor, cowering by a nightstand and blinking against the sudden beams of moonlight.
Zach threw the door open and raced forward, falling to the ground before him. “Joey,” he said breathlessly, relieved and horrified all at once.
Joey flinched as Zach rubbed his knees, and while that stung, Zach didn’t pull away. He only observed his brother shaking, leaning against the wall with arms and hands covering his face, unable to look him in the eye.
Zach had no idea what to do-if there was even a right thing to do. If he were at home and in charge of the situation, he’d cradle Anton or Zoe in his arms, or cover them in a blanket. He’d have aloe, he’d have peroxide, he’d have chamomile tea-or even better than those things, he’d have Mama as his cavalry, who always knew the right words to say.
But Zach had no words. All he had was the desire to touch his brother-to see, to definitely know what he was dealing with.
With little resistance, Zach gently pulled Joey’s hands away from his face and saw the mottled coloring. A purple bruise stained an eye, fading into green and yellow across a cheek, while his nose had streaks of dried blood. His lips were cut and chapped, and a tongue darted out quickly to wet them.
But the worst was the guilt that was smacked across Joey’s face, as if Joey were apologetic for even asking Zach to come rescue him. While bruises healed, that sort of shame punched Zach in the gut.
“Can you stand?” Zach asked gently, swallowing all of his emotions.
Joey reached out to him and nodded, letting himself be hoisted up. Bones cracked in the silence, and Zach put an arm around his back.
“Come on, I saw a diner not far from here.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Not the point-“ Zach caught himself, speaking softer. “I’ll get you coffee and we’ll talk. At least grab a cab there. I brought you a change of clothes.”
Zach grabbed his duffel bag and slung it hastily over his free shoulder, wanting to get them out of there as fast as possible. He didn’t bother closing the door behind them, letting Joey lean against him as they took the stairs back down. Where Joey was distant before now he clung, needy and melting into his side, and Zach found himself grateful for the contact.
Zach also bit his tongue, wanting to ask where Karl was. If not to watch out for him, maybe to at least beat him into a bloody pulp.
“Karl’s been drinking down there,” Joey said as he pointed aimlessly to a row of nightclubs behind them. “I bet he’s putting dollars in a stripper’s ass right now.”
“Well, the diner I saw is in the opposite direction.” Zach missed the warmth at his side as Joey regained footing and they walked apart. “Do you need anything from your room before we go?”
Joey took a moment to consider it, then shook his head as they rounded the insect-filled pool towards the sidewalk. “I was only supposed to be here two days. I have my knapsack with clothes, but-fuck it.”
Zach internally agreed. Even if Joey had said he had a million dollars back there, Zach would have told him to forget it. “Then let’s head off.”
They reached the grass beside the road, and Joey walked better with each passing minute. “I don’t know what got into him. We had been talking, and I told him the guy was just my friend. But for some reason that set something off and he swung-“
Zach was nodding along, only to discover ten paces ahead that he was suddenly alone.
“Joe?”
Zach turned around, seeing Joey clasp the front of shirt and feeling around his neck.
“My Celtic cross. Fuck, Zach, I can’t-“
“We can buy another one.” Zach tugged his elbow. “Come on-“
“No, no, it’s from Pop-Pop gave it to me.” Joey shrugged him off. “It’s in the car, it’ll just take a minute.“
“Joe, Pop wouldn’t-“
But Joey was already running back, leaving Zach far behind. Zach stood and looked exasperated from a distance, before he finally dropped his bag and jogged quickly to catch up.
Zach looked around anxiously, trying to find the car Joey had dipped into. They had been home free, and now all his senses were ringing with alarm bells. He felt his fingers and legs shaking with each passing minute, until his eyes finally caught his brother kneeling in the front seat of a Camry, fingers ripping a necklace off the rearview mirror.
“Got it!” Zach heard the words as they echoed in the parking lot-and then get choked as Joey was jerked into the darkness of the car.
Zach’s breath caught, his heart already running across pavement. He didn’t even think about it, his hands gripping the Camry door with the single-minded intent on dragging Joey back out.
But he didn’t see Joey. At first there was unnatural darkness as Zach peered inside, the tinted windows further shading the night and causing confusion. But the metal of the gun caught the parking lot lights, glinting as it rested on the shoulder of the driver’s seat.
“Get in,” a cracked voice demanded, the click of a barrel ringing in Zach’s ears.
But he was still confused. And worst of all, Zach left his cell phone in the duffel bag, like a fucking moron.
“Get in,” the voice tersely demanded, followed by a familiar yelp.
So without thinking, Zach did exactly that-sitting in the driver’s seat and looking into the rearview mirror.
A dark blanket flipped out of sight, and Joey was sprawled across the lap of a dirty and rugged man-unshaven, smelling like piss and beer, and grinning a wicked smile.
“Close the door,” Karl said, and Zach felt his mind go blank with any good ideas.
As he closed the driver’s door, he mentally chastised himself for not calling the cops the moment they left the hotel. He would’ve had Joey with him-he could’ve seen where his brother went if they had argued. Even worse, he regretted for not calling the cops in Pittsburgh. If the end result was going to be both of them dead, he would rather never see Joey again than to see him suffer.
But as Zach straightened up, watching the barrel of the gun caress Joey’s temple, he knew it was long-passed should’ve/could’ve/would’ves.
Karl pursed his lips. “Hmm, thinkin’ I’d like to hit a few casinos.” He looked directly at Zach in the mirror. “Are you a gamblin’ man?”
How fucking clichéd was that? But Zach got the point. “You want to go to Vegas?”
“If you would be so kind,” Karl said, pressing deeply into Joey’s head. “’Bout four hours. Won’t even need to stop for gas.”
Zach clenched his jaw as he turned the ignition. What were the chances of driving to the police station without Karl catching on? Or driving recklessly in front of a cop? Or even crashing into a fence, or a highway median-anything to get attention, to get him and Joey out of this car.
But instead he put the car in reverse and backed out-wondering against all hope whether there was any way to not make it to Vegas.
***
About an hour in, and Karl had made it through a quarter-bottle of Smirnoff and was singing a show tune.
“On a cleaaaar day, rise and look aroooooound you-and you’ll see whooooo you arrreeee - “
Joey and Zach exchanged looks, with Zach’s knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“On a clear day, you can see foreeeeever - “
Zach gritted his teeth as Karl leaned forward, nudging the bottle against Zach’s shoulder. “Want some buddy, huh?”
Zach pushed it away and shook his head, leaving Karl to fall into the backseat again, with gun still cradled in his lap.
Sure, Karl seemed thoroughly drunk off his ass. Yet there would also be strange times of complete lucidity. Like now as he pulled Joey onto his knee, with his gun digging into Joey’s stomach as it traveled under the waistband.
Zach met Joey’s gaze in the rearview mirror, clearly seeing his own brown eyes widen in panic. Zach had hoped to God that Karl would just fucking pass out or something, and Zach could throw his stupid ass out of the car. But as Zach was about to twist and jerk the steering wheel to throw Karl backwards, he noticed that Joey’s lips were moving and annunciating, his eyes doing more than staring back.
Glove-box. Bot-tle. Glove-box. Bot-tle.
When they were growing up, there had been times where Zach felt as though he could read Joey’s mind. He just wished this were one of them, having no clue what Joey meant-but he glanced at the glove compartment, anyhow.
Karl was pulling up Joey’s shirt, the gun caressing ribs as Karl bit an earlobe.
“Want a show, little brother?” Karl rasped, staring directly at him. But Zach’s regard remained on Joey, whose lips had stopped moving to feign a moan as he turned his head, catching Karl’s attention with a kiss.
Zach fought his disgust as his eyes kept on the mirror. Truthfully he just wanted to throw up, but instead his hand sneaked to quietly open the glove compartment, trying not to make a sound. He was worried he’d have to dig while he watched the road, but a small, dark blue bottle practically rolled into his hand.
Zach folded it into his palm and knew instantly what it was. Auntie Marie used the same colored bottles to hold delicate tinctures of herbs; dried leaves that were either soaked or needed to be kept away from sunlight. Either way, Joey used very few of these, and only one herb with any regularity-especially with one particular person.
Belladonna.
“Mmm, you’re such a little slut, aren’t you? Want it so bad?”
Zach refocused on the mirror, only to see the gun traveling around Joey’s waist. It scraped against skin, harshly digging into the crack and backside of Joey’s jeans.
As Joey hissed at the metal, Karl smacked his head.
“You fucking like it, you little bitch-“ and as Karl forced Joey to bend over with his metallic thrust, Zach swung back an arm.
“Don’t you touch him!”
The car swerved and jerked, and the backseat occupants jostled apart as Zach regained control of the wheel
“Hey!” Zach yelled shrilly and swung again, finally grasping the Smirnoff bottle and smacking Karl’s leg with it.
The action caused Karl to grab Zach’s forearm, nails digging into skin as he growled with anger. But Zach yanked the bottle forward, trying to keep his indifferent composure.
“Fuck man, give me a break-I just need a drink,” Zach spat, watching Karl’s expression as he took a long gulp of vodka.
It was slow to register, but Karl wound up grinning, allowing the gun to loll in his lap.
Zach made a loud and exaggerated ahhh as the bottle settled between his legs, although he fought the urge to spit everything out. It was some fruity flavor, for crying out loud, and he hated vodka to begin with.
“Mmm-that’s it, little brother,” Karl said as he grabbed Joey’s hand. He smoothed the hand up his thigh, then pressed Joey’s palm against the bulge in his jeans. “I like brothers.”
Zach wanted to make a face, but he was too busy dumping the contents of the blue bottle. With the amount of alcohol it took to dilute leaves of belladonna, along with the vodka that remained, he wanted to make sure there was enough to drug the fucker.
It was their one shot-perhaps the only one they’d get.
Zach upended it all, counting on the bottle being small and holding very little. He swirled the tincture, making sure it married, before he thrusted the bottle into the backseat.
“Left some for you,” Zach said cheerfully, and hoped to Gods it would work.
Joey was rubbing the front of Karl’s jeans, and his face betrayed the same hope as Karl took a large swig.
***
“You’ll feel paaaaaaaaart ooooffffff every mountain, seeea and shooore - “
Zach and Joey exchanged a look from the curbside, as Karl stood before them taking the longest piss in human history.
“You can heeear from far and neeeear, a world you’ve never heard beforreeeeee - “
“Does he know another song?” Zach whispered, mentally calculating the odds of pushing Karl over into the bushes.
“He was in that play years ago,” Joey answered, then hissed, “Fuck, Zach-did you put in enough? I usually use half a bottle to knock him out.”
“I don’t know, maybe the alcohol-“
“Dammit, we’re in the desert, how will we ever-“
“You can seee forever, and ever, and evvvveeeerrrr mooorrreeeeee!”
Karl waved the gun in a showy arc as he shook himself and staggered on his feet.
“Encore, encore!” he shouted to the bushes, then turned to face them. “I love that fucking sonnnngh.”
Zach narrowed a look as Karl patted his cheeks, seeming confused as he shuffled towards them.
“My fash, it feelsh… schnumb.” He tried to grab his nose. “Veres my fingshers-“
They both watched as hazel eyes rolled into the top of his head, the whites exposed as his head looked upward and beyond. Knees shook, then finally buckled-a gurgle escaping as Karl face-planted into the asphalt, bones cracking at awkward angles.
He didn’t move. There was not even a twitch. Zach and Joey looked at each other with alarm, then quickly scrambled to roll him over.
There was a pool of vomit, a trail of spit from mouth to pavement. Zach kneeled beside him, while Joey dared to touch the body.
A slap, then another slap. Joey’s fingers found a pulse point as hands felt Karl’s chest.
Zach squinted, trying to eye Karl’s breathing. “Is he... out for the count?”
But Joey remained quiet as he kept his fingers on Karl’s neck. A minute passed and he shook his head, then another two minutes-but eventually Joey looked up with wide eyes.
“Zach, he’s-he’s dead.”
“What?” Zach reached for a wrist, trying to feel for the pulse himself. But on a closer inspection, there was no mistaking the aura of death-no pulse, no movement, no nothing.
Zach stood up quickly. “Oh God.”
“Zach-“
“We’ve got to go to the hospital-the police. It was self-defense, they would know.“
“Zach, calm down.”
“Oh God, what if they take away my children?” Zach paced beside the car. “It was hard enough being fucking gay, they would use any excuse-“
“Zach, no one is taking away your kids.”
“I put it in the bottle, I poisoned him. There would be a trial, and Child Services would take them away-“
Joey stood up, trying to catch Zach’s eye. “Zach-Zach.Maybe he’ll wake up.”
Zach whirled around and kicked the car. “Fuck!”
“It’s going to be okay, Zach… help me heft him in the backseat.”
That stopped Zach in his tracks, his wild eyes taking in Joey’s unusally calm countenance. “What?”
Joey hooked hands under Karl’s arms. “We’re going to take him home.”
Zach’s mouth gaped, sputtering until he was able to spit out, “Like hell we are!”
Joey grunted from the weight. “We’re gonna-use-the spell.”
Zach wanted to yell What spell?, but his mind caught up instantly and he froze.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“We’ll animate him, throw him out, then send him on his way to the cops. If he dies there, that ain’t our problem.”
Zach didn’t have a clear rebuttal on his tongue, and he stared as Joey dragged the body across pavement. Zach had killed someone-he had truly killed someone. He had even taken someone’s life in anger, and had enjoyed it with spite.
Joey dropped the body short of the car, with his eyes calculating the logistics of the backseat. Zach’s dear brother Joey, whose bruises were still blooming-new ones growing at the hem of his t-shirt, no doubt where the gun had jabbed him.
Zach marched forward and grabbed Karl’s feet. “This is ridiculous-we’re clear across the country!”
“We’ll prop him up.”
They threw Karl in the backseat, and Joey circled to the other side of the car to straighten him up. “Got a pillow and blankets in your trunk?”
Zach shot Joey a look-he lived in the Northeast with kids. Of course he did.
And once they tucked the blanket around Karl’s body, it seemed convincing enough for the time being. At least in the dark.
Joey got behind the wheel, turning the ignition as Zach slouched in the passenger seat.
“We’re so screwed.”
“No we’re not.”
“Yes we are.”
Joey revved the engine. “We have enough gas for Vegas. Once we hit the stretch of highways, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”
As they pulled onto the road, Zach analyzed Joey’s profile-the bruise swallowing his eye in the dark, stubble completing the awful mess that was his brother.
Zach swallowed. “I love you, Joe.”
Joey reached over and squeezed his knee.
***
By the time they reached Pittsburgh, Zach felt as dead as their cadaver in the backseat. Both of them were exahausted beyond measure, but at least Joey’s bruises had started to fade-now a sickening yellow more than purple or blue. When Mama came home, at least she wouldn’t see the worst of it.
Well-not that there weren’t worst things to worry about.
Thankfully it was dusk, and Auntie Marie’s bushes and wild gardens allowed them to conspicuously carry the body inside.
“Gods, how can he smell worse?” Zach huffed as they both swung the body onto the spell parlor table, then positioned him in the center.
Joey shook his head. “This is absolutely disgusting.”
Zach was too tired to glare at him, his hands finding and hefting the familiar grimoire from a shelf. It was not like it had been-some pages curled and stained from the grass-but all the spells were still there. Especially the one they were looking for.
Zach fingers gingerly flipped the pages, trying to remember what section of the book the spell had appeared in.
“Zach, Zach-hurry. What if the damn spell has a time limit?”
That hadn’t occurred to him, but he was over his panicking stage. “Well, then we’re screwed anyway.”
Joey let out an exasperated sigh. “Then what will we do?”
“I don’t know, bury him.” But Zach’s fingers found the right page, his eyes scanning the ingredients and directions. “This says within three days, so we’re good.”
“You sure?”
Zach shot him a look over the book’s edge. “If it’s not, like I said-we’re screwed.”
Joey threw up his hands in exasperation as Zach listed off the ingredients.
“Asafoetida powder, 13 black candles, needles-“
Joey raced around as he opened drawers and pulled things outs.
“A goblet, an athame, white cloth-“
“What’s the goblet for?”
Zach propped the book on the edge of the table and took the items from Joey. “Our blood, of course.”
Joey froze. “What?”
“Apparently we need to cut our hands and pour it into his mouth.”
Joey made a face. “What the fuck?”
“Spread out the white towel over his chest.”
Joey shook his head, yet did what he was told. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Zach placed the candles around them, lighting them counter-clockwise with matches. “North, South, East, West-may the God and Goddess heed our request.”
Joey mumbled along. “Earth, Air, Fire, Water-come around and hear our desire. This is so fucked up.”
Zach lit the last candle and blew out the match. “Put an ounce of powder in the goblet.”
Joey grabbed the small canister, coughing as the opened lid sent dust in the air. “This might smell worse than he does.”
Zach went back to the book. “Okay, while you’re doing that, I’ll insert the needles in his eyes-“
“Shut the fuck up.”
Zach almost smiled at Joey’s gawking expression. “Our dear Karl needs to see when he wakes up, right?”
Joey stared at him. “You’re off your fucking rocker.”
It was a valid statement, but Zach aimed a needle into an eyelid and pressed gently. “No, I’m just desperate.”
When Zach had propped open the other eyelid, Joey seemed to shake himself and make the powder ready.
When he held out his wrist, Zach shook his head.
“We have to chant first.” Zach looked down at the book. “Blood to body and body to life, blood to body and body to life -okay, we need to say it twenty-seven times together, then cut ourselves, then make him drink it.”
“Twenty-seven?”
Zach hovered his hands over the body, then stared at Joey until his hands did the same.
Looking deep into each other eyes they nodded, then intoned on the same breath: “Blood to body and body to life, blood to body and body to life…”
Candles flickered around them as they continued, and by the twenty-fourth a wind pounded at the windows, roaring as their voices grew louder.
“Blood to body and body to life!”
Joey held the goblet as Zach took the knife. He sliced their palms, and rivulets leaked into the cup. A minute passed as several inches formed at the bottom, which seemed like enough-well, to at least resurrect a dead squirrel. Or to resurrect Harold and Siouxsie Sioux, who were both avoiding the spell parlor and hissing constantly.
Zach withdrew his hand and Joey followed suit.
“How will we make him drink it?” Joey asked, watching Zach peer at the contents.
“Lift up his head.”
Joey had to use both hands as Zach stirred the blood with his athame. Zach was pretty certain that the last time he used each utensil was to stir kool-aid for Zoe on May Day, giving her and and Anton a non-alcoholic substitute as the adults drank red wine.
Zach made a face-he was so consecrating new tools if he survived this.
Th goblet was placed against Karl’s lips, and as Zach propped them open he whispered, “Drink this, you fucking bastard.”
The blood splashed uselessly over his mouth, pooling under his tongue. Joey tilted Karl’s head further back, using his finger to move the tongue out of the way. There the blood finally dripped down his throat, and Zach and Joey waited anxiously.
“Come on, work,” Joey whined, a minute after the goblet emptied and Karl still lay lifeless on the table. “Come on.”
Zach watched eagerly for any signs of life. “Maybe the blood needs to circulate or something.”
But another minute passed and Joey shook his head. “Fuck, it didn’t work.“ He leaned forward, a choked breath too loud in the room. “Gods, I killed my boyfriend.”
“He was trying to kill you.”
Joey shook his head and bit his lower lip. “But I killed him.”
Zach was about to further protest, until Joey smacked Karl on both sides of the face.
“Wake up, you son of bitch-wake the fuck up!”
Joey was encircling hands around Karl’s neck, finally finding an outlet for his repressed aggression, when an arm shot up-Karl’s arm shot up-and punched Joey in the jaw.
The body sat up jerkily and wobbily, almost falling off the table. There was an obnoxious belch as Karl tried to speak-the voice robotic, yet akin to something from Hell.
“You-kill!”
Joey backed into a shelf ledge, his eyes wide as arms swung at him.
“Kill-you!”
That was the extent of the vocabulary as Karl staggered off the table, heading straight for Joey at the wrong end of the room.
Zach raced towards both of them as Joey babbled.
“Karl, baby, wake up-wake up, it’s me. You don’t wanna hurt me, you love me-“
But Joey was cut off by a hand around his throat, and the lumbering body suffocating and crushing him.
“Kill-you!”
Zach pulled at Karl’s arms with all his strength, punching Karl’s head and back to let Joey go. But Karl could’ve been a statue for all the difference it made, only intent on one purpose.
“You-kill!”
Joey made a choking sound. “Karl, stop-“
And with a cast iron frying pan that Zach found in the kitchen, he got Karl to do exactly that-by smashing it over his head, thus killing him a second time.
***
Rain wasn’t that uncommon in New England. But Zach wondered why it had to rain fucking now, when they were digging the deepest hole they could muster for Karl’s bedsheet-wrapped body.
They were at six feet when Joey stopped and turned to him. “This really doesn’t encompass the brevity of the situation, but, um-thank you.”
Zach lifted one last shovel of dirt and nodded. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”
“I know it’s my fault-you were right before. All those times I should’ve left, and never did-“
Zach staked the shovel in the dirt. “Joey, I love you. We all do stupid shit. You didn’t know this would happen.”
“Regardless-“ Joey sniffed from the rain. “Thank you. I can’t promise I’ll never do stupid shit again, but I can guarantee it’ll only be in Pittsburgh.”
Zach stared at Joey, trying to comprehend what he was saying. When it sunk in, Zach grabbed his arms and hugged him tight-hugged the fragile man before him, who was apparently strong enough to dig six feet into the ground, but not enough to take care of his own life.
He squeezed then pushed Joey off. “Let’s dump this jack-ass.”
Joey nodded. He climbed out of the pit first, then gave Zach a helping hand.
There was some slight catharsis. They kicked the body forward until they both grabbed an end and threw him into the pit. The body gave a thump as it landed sure in the center.
An hour later, their bare feet pounding down all the dirt, Zach confessed his fear: “If they find him and take away my kids, I’m killing you too, Joey.”
Joey stomped the hardest of all. “Zach, I would hand you the knife-I would hand you the goddamn knife.”
Part Three
Pairings: Chris Pine/Zachary Quinto, Joe Quinto/Karl Urban, Eric Bana/Zachary Quinto
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: A brief mention of animal abuse, domestic violence and senseless brutality, murder and mayhem, language, sex of dubious consent and with consent, blood-letting, four not-Pinto character deaths, and religious and occult subjects.
Parts: One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Author Notes
“Dad! Dad-“
Zach pulled the covers over his head and groaned. “Indoor voice, please.”
He felt hands poking him through the blanket. “Dad, why are you still in bed?” He felt another poke. “Daddy, get up.” Poke, poke. “Dad?”
Zach sighed and mentally prepared for the barrage of sunlight as he pulled down the covers.
“Because, babe-“ he blinked a few times to see Zoe’s questioning face staring down at him. “I’m just tired.”
“It’s noon! Auntie Marie says it’s lunchtime.”
“Then you should go eat.” He reached again for the covers and found a set of hands blocking him.
“She says she’s holing my sandwich sausage ‘til you come down,” Zoe stated with too much seriousness.
Zach rubbed his face, knowing instantly he was going to lose this one. “Tell her you’re a vegetarian.”
Zoe pinned him with a look. “No.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “No?”
“We made a special soup for you.” She grabbed at his arm and tugged hard. “You have to come try it.”
“What sort of soup?”
“Get well soup.”
“What’s in this soup?” Zach’s arm bounced up and down like a zombie as he made no effort to help at all, and he quirked a lip. “It’s not stone soup again, is it?”
But Zoe kept tugging, letting a whine seep into her voice. “Please, Daddy? You’ve been sick for months. You need soup.”
That sobered him up pretty quickly, and he thickly swallowed. “Okay-okay, Zo.”
It was more difficult than it should have been, willing himself to put feet to the floor. But Zoe climbed onto the bed and moved around him, pushing with all her weight against his back.
It knocked the wind out of him with an oof. “I’m going, babe!” She kept pushing and he chuckled. “Zoe-“
She shoved again, and Zach reached around to grab her hands. “I’m good-I promise. I’ll get up.”
Zach managed to pull her to the side, where Zoe sat on her knees on the bed. Her brown eyes anxiously watched his-tense and obsessive, waiting for him to make the slightest move.
It was disconcerting, and Zach leaned forward for a quick kiss to her forehead. “What’s going on?” he asked quietly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear.
Zoe was his worrywart-constantly fretting that the sky was falling, paranoid about everything. Three months ago, Eric could’ve given her a bright smile and wiped it all away-said the right words, known the perfect solutions to her intricate six-year-old anxieties. His mere presence would frighten ghosts away, his deep voice would make monsters run for the hills-and he knew the answers to every math problem, the words to all her favorite songs, the ways to make her happy again.
Zach swallowed a lump in his throat and tried a smile of his own. But Zoe only fell forward and gripped him, fingertips digging into his skin as she burrowed her face into his side.
“Don’t go away,” she said in a small voice, muffled against his t-shirt.
Zoe clung to him, and Zach whispered all the promises in the world-unsure if they would ever be true, but hoping that they could be.
***
Dear Joey - Sorry it’s been a while. Things have been hectic around here lately, you know how it is.
We’re finally settled in, and the kids seem to be doing okay. Thankfully Zoe has the same school. Mama is thrilled to have us here, of course - and Auntie Marie is thrilled in her own, special way. Siouxsie Sioux less so. (Noah is finding that out quickly, although dimwittingly.)
Anton has always latched onto Mama, but it’ll probably amuse you to know that Zoe and Auntie Marie are now thick as thieves. I don’t know exactly what they’re up to, but Zoe is growing a green thumb - she has her own line of herbs on the kitchen sill right next to Auntie Marie’s, and they are doing well. I guess that’s how I started, way back when. Mine were basil and thyme; hers are parsley, mint, and lavender. She sings to them, just like I used to.
Zoe is also in your old room. And since we’re adults and can be mature about this - care to finally tell me where all your secret cubbys are? I thought Mama always knew, but she isn’t dishing if she does. I swear I won’t steal your gum from ’86, I just - Zoe has a journal and a jewelry box that she used to hide under the bed, filled with photos and cards and things, and they’re missing now.
I guess she’s like you, in that way. You always hid your book of shadows, even from me. I had my journal out for the world to read, trusting too much that no one would look at it - never considering that Mama actually would.
I have my old room here, too. I’m back in the attic. Anton’s crib is near me, although he’s getting too big for one. It used to be my sanctuary up here - enough space for me to dream big, enough quiet to study or play my music really loud. Enough space to pace the floorboards - especially after that night you left, and I had to figure out what to tell Mama.
It’s just strange to view it with new eyes. Where I had space to pace before, now it’s crowded and filled with boxes. I didn’t want to put Eric’s trophies in the basement - did you know he was in a bowling league? Those awards are obnoxiously tall.
Anton walks around and touches everything, his terrible twos now in full force. I never realized how horrible this house was for kids until we came back - three flights of stairs, antiques everywhere, child hazards wherever I look. Mama has more patience for these things, and thank Gods, because I’m too exhausted to watch his every move. They finally fixed that lock on the back door - Anton is our new Houdini, and Noah and Harold take advantage whenever they can.
The neighbors smiled and welcomed me back. Funny how that was different when we were growing up. Just wait until Noah digs up their flowerbeds.
Love you. I hope things are okay where you are - Zach
***
Dear Z - Have you ever seen a Rose of Jericho?
You’re the family herbalist, although Auntie Marie taught both of us - lavender for a headache, mint for a sick stomach, belladonna for sleeplessness. Thyme for nightmares, dandelion for divination on the full moon. So maybe you’ve heard of it, maybe you haven’t.
I was at a friend’s place last Saturday, and she handed me this thing that looked like a miniature sagebrush - some tumbleweed in the palm of my hand. I didn’t know what it was until she told me to water it. Told me to water it, watch it, and maybe try to learn something for a change.
I told her sure, I was out of subjects - but it’s not like I was bored enough to film mold. But she was having none of it, holding the keys to the place and the couch I was sleeping on. So she brought out a pie tin, filled it with water, and ordered me to just watch.
Apparently the Rose of Jericho does come from the Middle East. That isn’t a divergent point, as I started observing the only way I knew how - a photo every 30 minutes.
Zach, I don’t know how it does it, I’m no genius. But the dead and brown tumbleweed suddenly flourished into green, and folded out with the quick passage of time. Before it was like a closed fist, keeping the heart of it shielded, like a flower before blossom. But once the roots touched water it was gone - long tendrils stretching out, reaching out, unfolding itself.
I have a series of photos, one seemingly more beautiful than the next. I didn’t know what to do with them, except send them to you.
Zach, we both grew up so broken hearted. I know we dealt with this in different ways. You kept your head down and charged forward into the world - your plate of armor your wit and intelligence, the ability to strike down any foe with a stern look. You never let anybody in, and anyone that was lucky enough usually walked through fire first.
I don’t know if Eric walked through fire. But what I do know is that so many people love you, and would gladly fall into the flame to see you well again - count me as one of those.
If you don’t keep watering the Rose of Jericho it shrivels up again, turning into the same brown tumbleweed as before. Closing its heart, shedding its green. Miserable and dejected, perhaps - but I see each of those tendrils as a finger stretching out, looking to be dyed by the first drop of moisture, hungrily waiting. What once was green and turned to death can be woken again. Lay the photos side by side, and you can’t even tell where it begins or ends.
I love you, Zach. Please take care of yourself, and say hi to Anton and Little Z for me. And no, I’ll never tell you where the secret cubbys are - my lips are forever sealed - Joey
***
“Zach. Zaaa-ach.”
Zach squeezed his eyes tight, listening keenly to the voice. It was so familiar, yet one that was usually reserved for dreams.
“Baby brother, come on.”
Zach tried to remain sleeping, just for a little while longer-until he felt a painful thwack to the temple.
“Hey, wake the fuck up.”
At that his eyes did fly open-seeing Joey mere inches from his face, grinning wickedly against a floral pillowcase in the darkness.
Zach reached out quickly and squeezed an arm. “Joe? Joey-“
Joey put a finger to his lips, although they quirked up in amusement. “Indoor voice, please.” He looked to the side. “Anton’s asleep.”
Zach bit his bottom lip to keep from giggling. “What are you doing here?”
Joey sighed dramatically. “Oh, I don’t know. I was just passing through the neighborhood, when I heard that my brother had been ill for the last six months. Thought I’d stop by.”
Zach let his hand drop, his mind fumbling with words to say but settling on a, “That’s nice of you.”
“Have to go back in the morning, but-“ Joey wrinkled his nose. “Have you showered lately?”
“How did you get out?” Zach said, self-conciously touching his hair. “New York’s far.”
“Nah, I slipped Karl something and drove his car-but really, laundry? Ever?”
Zach swallowed. “It’s good to see you.”
Joey snorted. “Wish I could say the same. You look like shit.”
Zach made a face. “Screw you.”
“Ever hear of sunlight? Does wonders. Same with fresh air.”
Zach sighed and rolled onto his back. “I think I know where this is going.”
But there was only silence in the minutes afterwards, as Zach’s eyes traced the slanted ceiling of his attic bedroom. He waited and waited-until he turned his head to see Joey watching him.
Joey opened his mouth, closed it, then, “Do you remember how Mama was after Pop died?”
Zach nodded. She had gotten up and taken care of them, but she had been a recluse in the house for months. A school conference had been a big outing, pajamas the uniform for every day.
“You’re going to say I’m like Mama.”
Joey shook his head. “No, I was going to say you’re worse than Mama.”
“You don’t understand, Joe.”
“And you don’t understand what I’m getting at.”
Sheets rustled as Joey snuck under them and curled up to Zach’s side. “You want to hear a story?”
“No.”
“So when we first moved in here-right after Pop died-I was absolutely convinced my bedroom was haunted.”
Zach huffed a breath. “Yep. We had to sprinkle salt around the edges of the room and everything to get you to go to sleep.”
Joey touched Zach’s arm, his body leaning more into view. “It never worked though, remember? I think by the third week Mama was convinced it was all in my head, and you avoided my room entirely.”
“I hate ghosts.”
“I know.”
Joey glanced over at Anton’s crib for a moment, then looked back at Zach. “Anyway, that’s when Auntie Marie figured it out.”
Zach narrowed his brows. He hadn’t heard this part of the story before.
“One night she came in and slept with me-you used to have nightmares, so Mama must have been busy with you. So we laid in this little twin bed, both of us squished together, while I waited for her to finally see the ghost I was talking about.”
There was a pause, and Zach turned his head to watch him-more confused by the serene look on Joey’s face.
“And then it appeared, right before us.”
Zach frowned. “She never told us this.”
“Because after that it never happened again.”
“Did you tell it to go away?”
Joey shook his head. “No. It was-it was nothing like that.” He leaned closer, his breath a whisper in his ear. “I thought it was Pop.”
Zach had never heard this either.
“I kept seeing him, this figure pressed against my chest. His face inches from mine, whispering words I couldn’t hear.”
“Gods, Joey-fuck.”
“And I was pointing and crying, and I practically hit Auntie Marie in the face-until she grabbed me and told me something very important.”
Zach had a hint of this. “Ghosts can’t hurt you.”
Joey made a so-so motion with his hand. “That. But also that I couldn’t let them scare me, or ruin my life, without me letting them. They live off anger and fear, you know. Guilt, too.”
Zach scrunched his brow. “So what happened?”
“The moment I accepted and believed that, the ghost went away-the feelings of it went away. And I never saw it again.”
Joey removed a hand from under the covers, letting it hover mere inches above Zach’s chest. “I’m not psychic, Zach. Auntie Marie is, and she saw nothing.”
He laid his palm down, and Zach laid his hand on top; feeling reassurance in the rough skin under his fingers.
“Zach, it was just my grief. It was easier to be scared of a ghost than to be scared of life without Pop. Pop… would never have done that.”
“I’m sorry, Joe.”
“No, I’m sorry.” Joey watched his face. “I’m sorry you’re letting this ghost hurt you and rob you of your life.”
Zach watched the hands move with the shudder of his chest. “Joe-“
“You can’t help it, right? You’re just so damn tired, and you can’t help it.”
Zach bit his lip. “I can’t.”
“You’re wrong, Zach. You completely can. You can sit up and decide you can still live after losing him.”
“It’s not that easy.”
“No, you’re right. After you sit up, you’ll want to lie right back down again. But you won’t. Because you’ll remember you have two babies who miss you-a big brother that misses you, too.”
Zach closed his eyes. “They keep coming up here.”
A hand pressed against his face. “Then go down to them. Eat breakfast with them. Then call your doctor and schedule physicals for all of you, so you have an excuse to admit you’re depressed.”
“I don’t want meds.”
“Fine, then tell Auntie Marie and she’ll fix something for you. Just tell somebody. Don’t lie here in the dark, thinking nobody cares or wants to listen to you.”
Zach’s eyes felt warm and tight, and he opened them slowly. “Okay.”
“And do it today. Do it when you wake up. Sleep one last night with the ghost, then say goodbye.”
Zach turned on his side and burrowed his face into Joey’s shoulder. “I don’t want to.”
“But you will. And you’ll be so glad you did.” Joey kissed the top of his head. “Love you, Z. If you can’t take care of yourself for the kids, or for you, then take care of yourself for me-please?”
Zach let out the sobs he’d been holding back, the balm Joey’s fingers rubbing lazy circles into his side. Maybe he had sobbed hours, maybe he had fallen asleep right away. But his eyes were sore and the light suddenly too bright when dawn finally woke him, the sun bleeding through curtains as Anton dropped a cloth book over the side of his crib.
Zach stretched out his limbs, knowing instantly that the familiar warmth of Joey was gone. But he tried not to be disappointed in that, catching Anton’s eyes as he tried to sit up.
“Hey, baby,” he said softly, his voice still rough and craggy. But when Anton beamed him a bright smile, giggling with devilish glee as he threw another book on the floor, it was incredibly infectious.
“Breakfast,” Zach concluded, lifting Anton into his arms.
Though it was an ordinary Thursday morning, Zach waited for Zoe in the kitchen-still in his pajamas, yet he had bowls of cereal poured for all of them.
Later as he watched Zoe board the school bus from a window, he took a deep breath for the obstacle that was the rest of his day. But he played with Anton, did a batch of laundry, and badly hummed to the potted herbs on the kitchen sill, Here Comes the Sun.
***
It had been hard to let the depression go. It had been a warm cocoon that numbed him to life, familiar and safe. But eventually the passage of time had won out, making things fade to almost bearable.
His heart was still a peeled scab of raw and stinging skin, but he was willing to breathe in cold realities, now. Painful, sure-but once Zach stepped back into the stream life, determination kept him anchored there, unwilling to let him drown.
There were also herbal remedies and spells. Tea, friends. Medication.
But mostly it was watching Zoe and Anton grow up. Zoe, a solemn girl that was perhaps too curious for her own good, but intelligent and full of confidence. Anton, going from sporadic words to sentences to getting his hair chopped-and the beautiful curls going along with it.
Zach was so proud of them. They constantly amazed him, and he genuinely enjoyed their company-despite Anton going through a knock-knock joke phase that seemed to never end. But they somehow made everything work, picking up the pieces of a tattered past and sewing together a new future.
In fact, things started to seem almost… normal. Like that was the way life had always been. Tragedy became a faded wallpaper, and even the harsh realities of regular life seemed to miss and skip over them.
Until-
After Anton’s first day of school, Zoe dragged him into the herbal shop and slammed and locked the door behind them.
Zach got down from his stepstool, taking in her harried and anxious expression. “What’s going on?”
But the chant echoed off the windows, despite voices struggling to join in unison.
“Witch, witch, you’re a witch! Witch, witch, you’re a witch!”
Anton looked up at him. “Dad, can’t we just curse them all?”
Zoe slapped his shoulder. “No. It’s against the Rede-‘an it harm none, do what thou wilt’.”
Anton made a face and rubbed his arm. “Dad, Zoe just-“
Zach waved them off. “Anton, don’t whine. Zoe, hitting isn’t in the Rede, either.” Not that Zach believed or remembered the Wiccan Rede.
As he moved between them, Zoe frowned. “No it isn’t-“
Zach put a hand out to shush her as he peeked around the window shade, raising an eyebrow at the adults he saw among the mob.
“Witch, witch, you’re a witch!”
“You’d think after hundreds of years they’d learn something new,” Zach muttered to himself, then twisted the blinds closed with a heavy sigh.
***
Dear Joey - How are things? It seems like forever since I last heard from you. Actually, checking your letters, it’s been a month. What’s going on? Your cell got turned off.
I wanted to send you school pictures. Anton just smiles that way, like a Munster, I have no idea why. Zoe of course got dolled up by Mama, which explains why she looks about to murder someone - Auntie Marie laughed for days about that.
Both are doing well in school. Zoe is still my over-achiever, somehow juggling ballet and flute practice. Anton is the class flirt and talks too much - I know, shocking. At the end of the month they both have school concerts, if you’re up for it. Zoe has a flute solo, and Anton is going to try synchronized partner dancing - don’t worry, I’ll take video, if nothing else. I think Anton even has to dress up like a tree.
Anyway, they’re okay, but - I guess I wanted to call because of the stupid witch-chanting. It’s started up again - practically the same freaking people, too. I suppose it was only a matter of time, although Zoe had avoided it for the most part. Rumor has it that Anton tried to curse a bully on his first day of school, and that’s what set it off. But where he set it off, Zoe apparently finished it - where one goes, the other follows. Just like we used to be.
My wishes never stood a chance, did they?
Despite my warnings, Zoe has dipped her hands into everything. It started innocently enough with letting her help Auntie Marie in the garden, and the rest was history. I knew it was beyond fixing when I found a charm bag in her backpack made of green felt, filled with daffodil petals and caraway seeds. For success at school, I imagine.
I know Auntie Marie and Mama were encouraging the magick work, but - you? Et tu, Joey? She’s been experimenting with the Tarot, and I swear it’s the same Morgan Greer deck you used to use.
So now Zoe joins me at the shop, helping me mix lotions and scented bath oils, picking my brain for every speck of information I know. And when we get home, she tries to talk me into the esbats and sabbats - one side is Zoe, and the other is Mama and Auntie Marie, all of them conning me into just one ritual.
So, I had my blow-up. And while I screamed and yelled at Auntie Marie for her audacity of indoctrinating my children, she pointed out what I still believed - never stopped believing, really.
I still celebrated the traditional holidays. I couldn’t give up Beltane, or Mabon, or sharing Samhain with the kids. I never stopped observing the phases of the moon when I was gardening, or took the fenugreek out of my wallet, or was unkind to the Earth. Hell, I still used that spell for a string of green lights on busy mornings.
Once a witch, I guess you’re always a witch. It was like a piece of me was missing, but I wouldn’t acknowledge it. I still haven’t entirely, but… I am getting there. Slowly. Zoe is chipping away at my resolve.
Anton participates now, although I would’ve taught him the shielding spell, regardless. The bullies seemed to have left him alone - although whether it’s from imagining white light around him or Zoe’s fierce stare, your guess is as good as mine.
Joey - I don’t have a good feeling in my gut. I wish I could be there, the fierce sibling to protect you. I won’t ask, but I won’t stop worrying about you. But just know there’s always room at the shop. Hell, I could certainly use a photographer for advertisements.
I love you, Joey - take care of yourself. Your Little Z says hi. Anton, however, is too busy running amuck in the garden - Gods, he’s so much like you, it must be karmic revenge - Zach
***
Dear Z - Sorry, life has been hectic lately. One of my pieces got a complaint at a gallery, I got thrown off a shoot while I was in Central Park, one of my clients won’t pay up - life has been kind of a whirl. When I’m not sleeping or taking care of Karl, it seems I forget there are other things in life. I’m sorry, Zach.
Taking a moment before work to write down that I’m okay. Yeah, the phone got turned off, unfortunately. Karl hurt his back on a production, and he got thrown off a show - he’s getting disability, but it’s not a lot. So he’s been laying around here upset and bored, and I have to pick up some slack. That’s what you do when you love each other, I guess - Gods, we’ve been together some ten years now. I can’t even imagine.
But next week I leave for a small gig in LA - so far away. It’s strange how my heart was set on New York, and I’ve never seemed to have left it. But there’s a man out there who likes my work, and he’s paying for me to go. What a great opportunity - I want to do it, I really want to go. See what the beaches are like, what the clubs are like. There’s a big museum out there, although nothing like MoMA. But maybe I’ll run into a movie star and get his autograph - you never know. I should buy some shades for the occasion.
Karl is… well, less than pleased. But you know how he gets.
I’ll bring back some sand and shells for you guys. I love you all. Oh - and I can’t say I’m not pleased about Little Z. I guess now you know why I never told you about the secret cubbys. I’m so glad you’ve returned to us, welcome home - Joey
***
He grabbed the cordless absently. “Hello?”
”Zach?”
The dishes dropped in the sink as Zach looked up sharply. “Joe?”
There was shattered breathing on the line, then a whispered, ”Zach, I-I want to come home.”
Zach turned from the kitchen counter and marched into the living room. “I’ll come, Joey. Let me tell Mama-“
”Zach, I love you.”
“I love you too-are you okay?” The last Zach asked hesitantly, hoping like hell Joey wouldn’t hang up.
Instead there was a pause, before a very quiet, ”No. I went to LA, and-Zach, he followed me here. He wouldn’t let me go to the shoot.”
Zach took a deep breath. “Are you hurt?”
”No.”
“Is he there with you?”
”No.”
Zach looked around quickly for a pad and pen. “Can I convince you to call the cops?”
There was a moment before another, ”No.”
Zach uncapped the pen angrily. “Tell me where you are.”
The scrawl tore lines into the paper. But after assuring Joey he’d be there soon, Zach hung up and ran out into the yard. He was out of breath when he informed Mama and Auntie Marie, but it didn’t stop him from running back inside and hurrying frantically throughout the house.
***
Zach slung the small duffel bag over his shoulder. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Call us when you’re there,” Auntie Marie said. “Hell, call the cops now and then call us from the station.”
Zach shook his head. “I don’t think so. Joe would probably hide Karl, switch hotels, and I’d never see him again. I can’t risk it.”
Mama bit her lip. “Are you sure?”
Zach wasn’t, but he nodded anyway. “We’re on the next flight after I land. We’ll be home before you know it.”
He hugged Mama tightly, hoping he had reassured her. He then turned towards Zoe and Anton, bending down to hug them as well. “You two be good.” He kissed their cheeks. “Listen to Grandma and Oma.”
Zoe gave him a strange look. “Dad, we’re just going to the equinox festival. It’s not a big deal.”
Zach huffed a humorless laugh, giving a dirty look to Mama. “Are you kidding me?”
She gave him a patient smile. “They accept all ages, dear.”
“Yeah, I remember-and all the naked people dancing under the full moon!” Zach said tersely, straightening to glare at the adults.
But Auntie Marie remained unfazed and piped up, “But nudity is optional.”
“Right,” Zach said, vaguely remembering all the nude belly dancers he saw as a child, their expanses of flesh burned into his memory. But he didn’t have time to argue. “Fine-have fun you guys.” He ruffled Anton’s hair. “I’m sorry you’re about to be traumatized.”
“It’s a life experience, dear!”
But Zach didn’t stay to retort, waving at all of them before he raced out to his car. Truth be told he was more concerned with catching a flight to someone he loved in California, rather than all the fat naked people his children would probably see at a hippie festival.
***
Zach thought that with all the inventions of modern technology somebody would’ve made a flight less than ten fucking hours.
The projected seven had already been difficult to swallow, with the layover in Memphis making him silently rage. There was a mechanical failure, of course-screw the Fates and their meddling ways-and by the end of it all, Zach had half a mind to just walk to Los Angeles. By 6pm, after hours of sitting, he was about to strangle the hostess with all his Snickers wrappers knotted end-to-end if someone didn’t move something to get him closer to his brother.
Thankfully, after praying endlessly to the Gods in his head, an unexpected route had arrived in record time. Their former projection of twelve hours went down to ten, and Zach tried to thank his lucky stars and deities. But his legs bounced too anxiously, his head unable to rest on the pillow like those around him on the late-evening flight.
Eventually near 1am his plane landed, and he ran to the first taxi he saw to give them the hotel address.
Zach had called from a pay phone numerous times-each time unanswered, each time causing his nerves to unravel even more. Auntie Marie had probably been right. Gods, if Joey died, Zach would never forgive himself-would never be able to look Mama in the eye, or tell his children what happened to their beloved uncle.
But the taxi dropped him off at a skeezy motel on the outskirts of LA, with cracked pavement and a green swimming pool the only things he saw in the nighttime. Few cars were parked in the lot for a late Thursday evening, and Zach began to wonder if he even had the right address.
Lights flickered overhead as he sought out the room number-109, 110, 111. Zach climbed a flight of creaky outside stairs and finally saw 213.
He tried to glance through the window, although it was covered in blinds. He briefly wondered if he should knock. The room was dark, and maybe Joey was trying to get some sleep-or maybe Karl was in there, keeping his brother quiet. Or worse, maybe no one was in there at all, confirming his worse fears and making Zach too late.
He tried the handle, and was surprised to find the door had been kept slightly ajar. “Joey?” Zach said quietly, slowly peeking inside.
The room looked unoccupied. The bedspread not even rumpled, the dresser and table immaculate with stationary and folded towels. The only exception was a figure on the floor, cowering by a nightstand and blinking against the sudden beams of moonlight.
Zach threw the door open and raced forward, falling to the ground before him. “Joey,” he said breathlessly, relieved and horrified all at once.
Joey flinched as Zach rubbed his knees, and while that stung, Zach didn’t pull away. He only observed his brother shaking, leaning against the wall with arms and hands covering his face, unable to look him in the eye.
Zach had no idea what to do-if there was even a right thing to do. If he were at home and in charge of the situation, he’d cradle Anton or Zoe in his arms, or cover them in a blanket. He’d have aloe, he’d have peroxide, he’d have chamomile tea-or even better than those things, he’d have Mama as his cavalry, who always knew the right words to say.
But Zach had no words. All he had was the desire to touch his brother-to see, to definitely know what he was dealing with.
With little resistance, Zach gently pulled Joey’s hands away from his face and saw the mottled coloring. A purple bruise stained an eye, fading into green and yellow across a cheek, while his nose had streaks of dried blood. His lips were cut and chapped, and a tongue darted out quickly to wet them.
But the worst was the guilt that was smacked across Joey’s face, as if Joey were apologetic for even asking Zach to come rescue him. While bruises healed, that sort of shame punched Zach in the gut.
“Can you stand?” Zach asked gently, swallowing all of his emotions.
Joey reached out to him and nodded, letting himself be hoisted up. Bones cracked in the silence, and Zach put an arm around his back.
“Come on, I saw a diner not far from here.”
“I’m not hungry.”
“Not the point-“ Zach caught himself, speaking softer. “I’ll get you coffee and we’ll talk. At least grab a cab there. I brought you a change of clothes.”
Zach grabbed his duffel bag and slung it hastily over his free shoulder, wanting to get them out of there as fast as possible. He didn’t bother closing the door behind them, letting Joey lean against him as they took the stairs back down. Where Joey was distant before now he clung, needy and melting into his side, and Zach found himself grateful for the contact.
Zach also bit his tongue, wanting to ask where Karl was. If not to watch out for him, maybe to at least beat him into a bloody pulp.
“Karl’s been drinking down there,” Joey said as he pointed aimlessly to a row of nightclubs behind them. “I bet he’s putting dollars in a stripper’s ass right now.”
“Well, the diner I saw is in the opposite direction.” Zach missed the warmth at his side as Joey regained footing and they walked apart. “Do you need anything from your room before we go?”
Joey took a moment to consider it, then shook his head as they rounded the insect-filled pool towards the sidewalk. “I was only supposed to be here two days. I have my knapsack with clothes, but-fuck it.”
Zach internally agreed. Even if Joey had said he had a million dollars back there, Zach would have told him to forget it. “Then let’s head off.”
They reached the grass beside the road, and Joey walked better with each passing minute. “I don’t know what got into him. We had been talking, and I told him the guy was just my friend. But for some reason that set something off and he swung-“
Zach was nodding along, only to discover ten paces ahead that he was suddenly alone.
“Joe?”
Zach turned around, seeing Joey clasp the front of shirt and feeling around his neck.
“My Celtic cross. Fuck, Zach, I can’t-“
“We can buy another one.” Zach tugged his elbow. “Come on-“
“No, no, it’s from Pop-Pop gave it to me.” Joey shrugged him off. “It’s in the car, it’ll just take a minute.“
“Joe, Pop wouldn’t-“
But Joey was already running back, leaving Zach far behind. Zach stood and looked exasperated from a distance, before he finally dropped his bag and jogged quickly to catch up.
Zach looked around anxiously, trying to find the car Joey had dipped into. They had been home free, and now all his senses were ringing with alarm bells. He felt his fingers and legs shaking with each passing minute, until his eyes finally caught his brother kneeling in the front seat of a Camry, fingers ripping a necklace off the rearview mirror.
“Got it!” Zach heard the words as they echoed in the parking lot-and then get choked as Joey was jerked into the darkness of the car.
Zach’s breath caught, his heart already running across pavement. He didn’t even think about it, his hands gripping the Camry door with the single-minded intent on dragging Joey back out.
But he didn’t see Joey. At first there was unnatural darkness as Zach peered inside, the tinted windows further shading the night and causing confusion. But the metal of the gun caught the parking lot lights, glinting as it rested on the shoulder of the driver’s seat.
“Get in,” a cracked voice demanded, the click of a barrel ringing in Zach’s ears.
But he was still confused. And worst of all, Zach left his cell phone in the duffel bag, like a fucking moron.
“Get in,” the voice tersely demanded, followed by a familiar yelp.
So without thinking, Zach did exactly that-sitting in the driver’s seat and looking into the rearview mirror.
A dark blanket flipped out of sight, and Joey was sprawled across the lap of a dirty and rugged man-unshaven, smelling like piss and beer, and grinning a wicked smile.
“Close the door,” Karl said, and Zach felt his mind go blank with any good ideas.
As he closed the driver’s door, he mentally chastised himself for not calling the cops the moment they left the hotel. He would’ve had Joey with him-he could’ve seen where his brother went if they had argued. Even worse, he regretted for not calling the cops in Pittsburgh. If the end result was going to be both of them dead, he would rather never see Joey again than to see him suffer.
But as Zach straightened up, watching the barrel of the gun caress Joey’s temple, he knew it was long-passed should’ve/could’ve/would’ves.
Karl pursed his lips. “Hmm, thinkin’ I’d like to hit a few casinos.” He looked directly at Zach in the mirror. “Are you a gamblin’ man?”
How fucking clichéd was that? But Zach got the point. “You want to go to Vegas?”
“If you would be so kind,” Karl said, pressing deeply into Joey’s head. “’Bout four hours. Won’t even need to stop for gas.”
Zach clenched his jaw as he turned the ignition. What were the chances of driving to the police station without Karl catching on? Or driving recklessly in front of a cop? Or even crashing into a fence, or a highway median-anything to get attention, to get him and Joey out of this car.
But instead he put the car in reverse and backed out-wondering against all hope whether there was any way to not make it to Vegas.
***
About an hour in, and Karl had made it through a quarter-bottle of Smirnoff and was singing a show tune.
“On a cleaaaar day, rise and look aroooooound you-and you’ll see whooooo you arrreeee - “
Joey and Zach exchanged looks, with Zach’s knuckles white on the steering wheel.
“On a clear day, you can see foreeeeever - “
Zach gritted his teeth as Karl leaned forward, nudging the bottle against Zach’s shoulder. “Want some buddy, huh?”
Zach pushed it away and shook his head, leaving Karl to fall into the backseat again, with gun still cradled in his lap.
Sure, Karl seemed thoroughly drunk off his ass. Yet there would also be strange times of complete lucidity. Like now as he pulled Joey onto his knee, with his gun digging into Joey’s stomach as it traveled under the waistband.
Zach met Joey’s gaze in the rearview mirror, clearly seeing his own brown eyes widen in panic. Zach had hoped to God that Karl would just fucking pass out or something, and Zach could throw his stupid ass out of the car. But as Zach was about to twist and jerk the steering wheel to throw Karl backwards, he noticed that Joey’s lips were moving and annunciating, his eyes doing more than staring back.
Glove-box. Bot-tle. Glove-box. Bot-tle.
When they were growing up, there had been times where Zach felt as though he could read Joey’s mind. He just wished this were one of them, having no clue what Joey meant-but he glanced at the glove compartment, anyhow.
Karl was pulling up Joey’s shirt, the gun caressing ribs as Karl bit an earlobe.
“Want a show, little brother?” Karl rasped, staring directly at him. But Zach’s regard remained on Joey, whose lips had stopped moving to feign a moan as he turned his head, catching Karl’s attention with a kiss.
Zach fought his disgust as his eyes kept on the mirror. Truthfully he just wanted to throw up, but instead his hand sneaked to quietly open the glove compartment, trying not to make a sound. He was worried he’d have to dig while he watched the road, but a small, dark blue bottle practically rolled into his hand.
Zach folded it into his palm and knew instantly what it was. Auntie Marie used the same colored bottles to hold delicate tinctures of herbs; dried leaves that were either soaked or needed to be kept away from sunlight. Either way, Joey used very few of these, and only one herb with any regularity-especially with one particular person.
Belladonna.
“Mmm, you’re such a little slut, aren’t you? Want it so bad?”
Zach refocused on the mirror, only to see the gun traveling around Joey’s waist. It scraped against skin, harshly digging into the crack and backside of Joey’s jeans.
As Joey hissed at the metal, Karl smacked his head.
“You fucking like it, you little bitch-“ and as Karl forced Joey to bend over with his metallic thrust, Zach swung back an arm.
“Don’t you touch him!”
The car swerved and jerked, and the backseat occupants jostled apart as Zach regained control of the wheel
“Hey!” Zach yelled shrilly and swung again, finally grasping the Smirnoff bottle and smacking Karl’s leg with it.
The action caused Karl to grab Zach’s forearm, nails digging into skin as he growled with anger. But Zach yanked the bottle forward, trying to keep his indifferent composure.
“Fuck man, give me a break-I just need a drink,” Zach spat, watching Karl’s expression as he took a long gulp of vodka.
It was slow to register, but Karl wound up grinning, allowing the gun to loll in his lap.
Zach made a loud and exaggerated ahhh as the bottle settled between his legs, although he fought the urge to spit everything out. It was some fruity flavor, for crying out loud, and he hated vodka to begin with.
“Mmm-that’s it, little brother,” Karl said as he grabbed Joey’s hand. He smoothed the hand up his thigh, then pressed Joey’s palm against the bulge in his jeans. “I like brothers.”
Zach wanted to make a face, but he was too busy dumping the contents of the blue bottle. With the amount of alcohol it took to dilute leaves of belladonna, along with the vodka that remained, he wanted to make sure there was enough to drug the fucker.
It was their one shot-perhaps the only one they’d get.
Zach upended it all, counting on the bottle being small and holding very little. He swirled the tincture, making sure it married, before he thrusted the bottle into the backseat.
“Left some for you,” Zach said cheerfully, and hoped to Gods it would work.
Joey was rubbing the front of Karl’s jeans, and his face betrayed the same hope as Karl took a large swig.
***
“You’ll feel paaaaaaaaart ooooffffff every mountain, seeea and shooore - “
Zach and Joey exchanged a look from the curbside, as Karl stood before them taking the longest piss in human history.
“You can heeear from far and neeeear, a world you’ve never heard beforreeeeee - “
“Does he know another song?” Zach whispered, mentally calculating the odds of pushing Karl over into the bushes.
“He was in that play years ago,” Joey answered, then hissed, “Fuck, Zach-did you put in enough? I usually use half a bottle to knock him out.”
“I don’t know, maybe the alcohol-“
“Dammit, we’re in the desert, how will we ever-“
“You can seee forever, and ever, and evvvveeeerrrr mooorrreeeeee!”
Karl waved the gun in a showy arc as he shook himself and staggered on his feet.
“Encore, encore!” he shouted to the bushes, then turned to face them. “I love that fucking sonnnngh.”
Zach narrowed a look as Karl patted his cheeks, seeming confused as he shuffled towards them.
“My fash, it feelsh… schnumb.” He tried to grab his nose. “Veres my fingshers-“
They both watched as hazel eyes rolled into the top of his head, the whites exposed as his head looked upward and beyond. Knees shook, then finally buckled-a gurgle escaping as Karl face-planted into the asphalt, bones cracking at awkward angles.
He didn’t move. There was not even a twitch. Zach and Joey looked at each other with alarm, then quickly scrambled to roll him over.
There was a pool of vomit, a trail of spit from mouth to pavement. Zach kneeled beside him, while Joey dared to touch the body.
A slap, then another slap. Joey’s fingers found a pulse point as hands felt Karl’s chest.
Zach squinted, trying to eye Karl’s breathing. “Is he... out for the count?”
But Joey remained quiet as he kept his fingers on Karl’s neck. A minute passed and he shook his head, then another two minutes-but eventually Joey looked up with wide eyes.
“Zach, he’s-he’s dead.”
“What?” Zach reached for a wrist, trying to feel for the pulse himself. But on a closer inspection, there was no mistaking the aura of death-no pulse, no movement, no nothing.
Zach stood up quickly. “Oh God.”
“Zach-“
“We’ve got to go to the hospital-the police. It was self-defense, they would know.“
“Zach, calm down.”
“Oh God, what if they take away my children?” Zach paced beside the car. “It was hard enough being fucking gay, they would use any excuse-“
“Zach, no one is taking away your kids.”
“I put it in the bottle, I poisoned him. There would be a trial, and Child Services would take them away-“
Joey stood up, trying to catch Zach’s eye. “Zach-Zach.Maybe he’ll wake up.”
Zach whirled around and kicked the car. “Fuck!”
“It’s going to be okay, Zach… help me heft him in the backseat.”
That stopped Zach in his tracks, his wild eyes taking in Joey’s unusally calm countenance. “What?”
Joey hooked hands under Karl’s arms. “We’re going to take him home.”
Zach’s mouth gaped, sputtering until he was able to spit out, “Like hell we are!”
Joey grunted from the weight. “We’re gonna-use-the spell.”
Zach wanted to yell What spell?, but his mind caught up instantly and he froze.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
“We’ll animate him, throw him out, then send him on his way to the cops. If he dies there, that ain’t our problem.”
Zach didn’t have a clear rebuttal on his tongue, and he stared as Joey dragged the body across pavement. Zach had killed someone-he had truly killed someone. He had even taken someone’s life in anger, and had enjoyed it with spite.
Joey dropped the body short of the car, with his eyes calculating the logistics of the backseat. Zach’s dear brother Joey, whose bruises were still blooming-new ones growing at the hem of his t-shirt, no doubt where the gun had jabbed him.
Zach marched forward and grabbed Karl’s feet. “This is ridiculous-we’re clear across the country!”
“We’ll prop him up.”
They threw Karl in the backseat, and Joey circled to the other side of the car to straighten him up. “Got a pillow and blankets in your trunk?”
Zach shot Joey a look-he lived in the Northeast with kids. Of course he did.
And once they tucked the blanket around Karl’s body, it seemed convincing enough for the time being. At least in the dark.
Joey got behind the wheel, turning the ignition as Zach slouched in the passenger seat.
“We’re so screwed.”
“No we’re not.”
“Yes we are.”
Joey revved the engine. “We have enough gas for Vegas. Once we hit the stretch of highways, we’ve got nothing to worry about.”
As they pulled onto the road, Zach analyzed Joey’s profile-the bruise swallowing his eye in the dark, stubble completing the awful mess that was his brother.
Zach swallowed. “I love you, Joe.”
Joey reached over and squeezed his knee.
***
By the time they reached Pittsburgh, Zach felt as dead as their cadaver in the backseat. Both of them were exahausted beyond measure, but at least Joey’s bruises had started to fade-now a sickening yellow more than purple or blue. When Mama came home, at least she wouldn’t see the worst of it.
Well-not that there weren’t worst things to worry about.
Thankfully it was dusk, and Auntie Marie’s bushes and wild gardens allowed them to conspicuously carry the body inside.
“Gods, how can he smell worse?” Zach huffed as they both swung the body onto the spell parlor table, then positioned him in the center.
Joey shook his head. “This is absolutely disgusting.”
Zach was too tired to glare at him, his hands finding and hefting the familiar grimoire from a shelf. It was not like it had been-some pages curled and stained from the grass-but all the spells were still there. Especially the one they were looking for.
Zach fingers gingerly flipped the pages, trying to remember what section of the book the spell had appeared in.
“Zach, Zach-hurry. What if the damn spell has a time limit?”
That hadn’t occurred to him, but he was over his panicking stage. “Well, then we’re screwed anyway.”
Joey let out an exasperated sigh. “Then what will we do?”
“I don’t know, bury him.” But Zach’s fingers found the right page, his eyes scanning the ingredients and directions. “This says within three days, so we’re good.”
“You sure?”
Zach shot him a look over the book’s edge. “If it’s not, like I said-we’re screwed.”
Joey threw up his hands in exasperation as Zach listed off the ingredients.
“Asafoetida powder, 13 black candles, needles-“
Joey raced around as he opened drawers and pulled things outs.
“A goblet, an athame, white cloth-“
“What’s the goblet for?”
Zach propped the book on the edge of the table and took the items from Joey. “Our blood, of course.”
Joey froze. “What?”
“Apparently we need to cut our hands and pour it into his mouth.”
Joey made a face. “What the fuck?”
“Spread out the white towel over his chest.”
Joey shook his head, yet did what he was told. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”
Zach placed the candles around them, lighting them counter-clockwise with matches. “North, South, East, West-may the God and Goddess heed our request.”
Joey mumbled along. “Earth, Air, Fire, Water-come around and hear our desire. This is so fucked up.”
Zach lit the last candle and blew out the match. “Put an ounce of powder in the goblet.”
Joey grabbed the small canister, coughing as the opened lid sent dust in the air. “This might smell worse than he does.”
Zach went back to the book. “Okay, while you’re doing that, I’ll insert the needles in his eyes-“
“Shut the fuck up.”
Zach almost smiled at Joey’s gawking expression. “Our dear Karl needs to see when he wakes up, right?”
Joey stared at him. “You’re off your fucking rocker.”
It was a valid statement, but Zach aimed a needle into an eyelid and pressed gently. “No, I’m just desperate.”
When Zach had propped open the other eyelid, Joey seemed to shake himself and make the powder ready.
When he held out his wrist, Zach shook his head.
“We have to chant first.” Zach looked down at the book. “Blood to body and body to life, blood to body and body to life -okay, we need to say it twenty-seven times together, then cut ourselves, then make him drink it.”
“Twenty-seven?”
Zach hovered his hands over the body, then stared at Joey until his hands did the same.
Looking deep into each other eyes they nodded, then intoned on the same breath: “Blood to body and body to life, blood to body and body to life…”
Candles flickered around them as they continued, and by the twenty-fourth a wind pounded at the windows, roaring as their voices grew louder.
“Blood to body and body to life!”
Joey held the goblet as Zach took the knife. He sliced their palms, and rivulets leaked into the cup. A minute passed as several inches formed at the bottom, which seemed like enough-well, to at least resurrect a dead squirrel. Or to resurrect Harold and Siouxsie Sioux, who were both avoiding the spell parlor and hissing constantly.
Zach withdrew his hand and Joey followed suit.
“How will we make him drink it?” Joey asked, watching Zach peer at the contents.
“Lift up his head.”
Joey had to use both hands as Zach stirred the blood with his athame. Zach was pretty certain that the last time he used each utensil was to stir kool-aid for Zoe on May Day, giving her and and Anton a non-alcoholic substitute as the adults drank red wine.
Zach made a face-he was so consecrating new tools if he survived this.
Th goblet was placed against Karl’s lips, and as Zach propped them open he whispered, “Drink this, you fucking bastard.”
The blood splashed uselessly over his mouth, pooling under his tongue. Joey tilted Karl’s head further back, using his finger to move the tongue out of the way. There the blood finally dripped down his throat, and Zach and Joey waited anxiously.
“Come on, work,” Joey whined, a minute after the goblet emptied and Karl still lay lifeless on the table. “Come on.”
Zach watched eagerly for any signs of life. “Maybe the blood needs to circulate or something.”
But another minute passed and Joey shook his head. “Fuck, it didn’t work.“ He leaned forward, a choked breath too loud in the room. “Gods, I killed my boyfriend.”
“He was trying to kill you.”
Joey shook his head and bit his lower lip. “But I killed him.”
Zach was about to further protest, until Joey smacked Karl on both sides of the face.
“Wake up, you son of bitch-wake the fuck up!”
Joey was encircling hands around Karl’s neck, finally finding an outlet for his repressed aggression, when an arm shot up-Karl’s arm shot up-and punched Joey in the jaw.
The body sat up jerkily and wobbily, almost falling off the table. There was an obnoxious belch as Karl tried to speak-the voice robotic, yet akin to something from Hell.
“You-kill!”
Joey backed into a shelf ledge, his eyes wide as arms swung at him.
“Kill-you!”
That was the extent of the vocabulary as Karl staggered off the table, heading straight for Joey at the wrong end of the room.
Zach raced towards both of them as Joey babbled.
“Karl, baby, wake up-wake up, it’s me. You don’t wanna hurt me, you love me-“
But Joey was cut off by a hand around his throat, and the lumbering body suffocating and crushing him.
“Kill-you!”
Zach pulled at Karl’s arms with all his strength, punching Karl’s head and back to let Joey go. But Karl could’ve been a statue for all the difference it made, only intent on one purpose.
“You-kill!”
Joey made a choking sound. “Karl, stop-“
And with a cast iron frying pan that Zach found in the kitchen, he got Karl to do exactly that-by smashing it over his head, thus killing him a second time.
***
Rain wasn’t that uncommon in New England. But Zach wondered why it had to rain fucking now, when they were digging the deepest hole they could muster for Karl’s bedsheet-wrapped body.
They were at six feet when Joey stopped and turned to him. “This really doesn’t encompass the brevity of the situation, but, um-thank you.”
Zach lifted one last shovel of dirt and nodded. “Yeah, you’re welcome.”
“I know it’s my fault-you were right before. All those times I should’ve left, and never did-“
Zach staked the shovel in the dirt. “Joey, I love you. We all do stupid shit. You didn’t know this would happen.”
“Regardless-“ Joey sniffed from the rain. “Thank you. I can’t promise I’ll never do stupid shit again, but I can guarantee it’ll only be in Pittsburgh.”
Zach stared at Joey, trying to comprehend what he was saying. When it sunk in, Zach grabbed his arms and hugged him tight-hugged the fragile man before him, who was apparently strong enough to dig six feet into the ground, but not enough to take care of his own life.
He squeezed then pushed Joey off. “Let’s dump this jack-ass.”
Joey nodded. He climbed out of the pit first, then gave Zach a helping hand.
There was some slight catharsis. They kicked the body forward until they both grabbed an end and threw him into the pit. The body gave a thump as it landed sure in the center.
An hour later, their bare feet pounding down all the dirt, Zach confessed his fear: “If they find him and take away my kids, I’m killing you too, Joey.”
Joey stomped the hardest of all. “Zach, I would hand you the knife-I would hand you the goddamn knife.”
Part Three