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~\31.10/~

Halloween. All Hallows’ Eve. Samhain, for those who know its Emerald Isle origin. It is the day when the veil that separates the World of the Living and the World of the Dead falls to its weakest state. The spirits of those who have passed cherish this day as one rare opportunity to return to the realm that they had spent their finite lives, whether their lives were lived in honour or in horror is of no matter now, only that they may return, for one dark night, home. This and the worship and appreciation of these passed spirits, was the immortal though often forgotten purpose of this day.

In 2003, however, this day was a vast celebration. Not a celebration of the Dead, but a celebration for its own sake. The children of the world are raised to be excited for this day as it is the day of the famed, practice of ‘Trick-o-Treat’, an idea of great, annual appreciation from these children. Though, perhaps for some, it is a day dreaded because of these exact eager children who, for once, have the nerve to push every doorbell in sight for the chance of winning some free treats. It is now also a common day for those who are in the pinnacle of their bored, living lives; the teenagers of Halloween across the world seek out this day to host a hoard of hideous parties.

And it is at one of these parties that our story begins.

~\*/~

This newest area of London was lavishly built in the 1970s in a fashion that had been described as before its time, fortunately that time was now fast approaching and almost upon us. It had been constructed as a way of both stretching out the capital’s borders and of conveniently combining the necessary modernity of the urban city with the calm, naturalist rural elements that attracted those with money. It had been built only a few years ago, but it was rare that there was a house unfilled in this new, desirable neighbourhood. Even the cheapest of the houses here were designed by the particular tastes of a forgotten architect, hired by the city for this particular project of theirs. The houses were all either painted white or left a bare, brick red, usually so that the house could be lent a ‘homely’ identity from the outside. Every corner and wall was rounded, so as not to give the sense of foreboding and the tiles that built the pavements was wonderfully smooth and of the light grey that may or may not be appreciated with chewed gum. The roads had to be the tarmac equivalent of silk, every bump in the road that was not specifically warranted would be a dock in the construction men’s’ pay. Thin Birch trees were parked at regular intervals down the centre of the road and were a regular feature on every street, coupled with the larger oaks that had existed in the area long before the majority had been chopped down to construct the neighbourhood. Everything had been made clean and pale, even the traffic lights seemed to shine more pink than red, but it was quite arguably a success.

However, tonight was the night that all pretty places turn to jungles of Horror Houses and fake cobwebs. The moment that darkness had fallen across the streets, the terrifying plastic masks had been donned and the streets became alight with 4’ tall superheroes and monsters from every macabre classic and each Disney movie ever made. The sighting of those from the age of 13 upwards though was seldom, as they had all congregated together to create a whirling hellhole of plastic cups filled with cheap alcohol being consumed by minors and majors alike and behaviour that toed the line between inappropriate and indecent was the flavour of the evening.

At one of these very festivities, at a house that had been borrowed from long gone parents, Ryan sat in a fundamentally uncomfortable beanbag with a bored expression gracing his features. At a pale 5’6”, he filled the furniture perfectly, but the lack of support is proposed was not to the same standards real chairs had bestowed upon him. His neck arched back smoothly and his black hair drooped gauchely into the dark, sweaty air. His eyes stared a wide and uninterested azure, just the opposite shade that the contact lens’ packet had promised. The boy was dressed as an Angel this year, but he felt that it was not the most efficient attire he could’ve picked for tonight. The wings had appeared small and easy when he’d purchased them, but they’d proved him wrong when he entered the house and assaulted three people with fluff and glitter, the gown made it difficult to walk and standing made him feel like he was wearing a dress, which was not an amusing idea, and it knotted between his sneakers when he tried to walk – hence why he was now sitting in the only vacant seating option. He had also chosen to wear a curly, blonde wig that seemed more appropriate for a Cupid than an Angel of any kind, but that had been quickly wisped away no less than ten minutes since he arrived. That had been at 10:30, but it was now just breaking the bounds of midnight. A flash of amused regret crossed Ryan’s mind as he thought how every Cinderella in the city was about to make her grand exit and he thought that if he’d done that he might have a real reason to get up and leave. Of course, nothing was stopping him leaving now, except the greatest curiosity to find that unnamed herald who’d placed an unsigned invitation into his locker the week before. It had been a surprise and he’d wanted to thank the stranger that had given it to him before he swiftly flew away. At last, a reason to move made itself known from his bladder and he sighed with a lethargic gratitude. He appreciated the reason to move, just not the required destination. Still, Ryan forced himself into a standing position, taking the opportunity to crack his back and click his neck before picking up the hem of his gown to make his trip slightly less hazardous.

As Ryan walked, he was forced to take notice of all his classmates as they participated in the pseudo-tradition of drunken festivities; as had become a great part of most globally celebrated happenings, drinking had become a set fixture in the celebration of Halloween. Even though it was stridently illegal for children of 16 to, not only be drinking, but also be drunk, this clearly wasn’t a notion to bother with in the minds of these teenagers. During the 2 minutes it took for Ryan to get from the living room to the staircase, Ryan was faced with a near Herculean task of dodging hazardously fragile, flying objects, packs of hormone pumped teenagers rippling against each other to tasteless music and members of both sexes who were inebriated beyond any type of redemption and proving it to all those capable and willing to pay attention. Ryan also had to avoid the great mountains of boys shouting intoxicated curses and unprovoked slurs, which frankly made no sense, but all was accepted if the vibe did not suffer. Clearly this vibe was dressed in the Armour of Achilles, for it gave no sense of any chance to weaken. Eventually, Ryan traversed enough mayhem and poorly choreographed disaster to be able to step over a couple who had taken it upon themselves to occupy the bottom step of the staircase. Ryan kept his gown in his hand, but tugged more of it up as he scaled the stairs onto the second floor. This floor was filled with bedrooms in majority, all of which were occupied by couples who had made quicker process than the two on the staircase.

Ryan paid little heed to the empty hallway and headed straight for the ajar door whose lit light indicated that this was indeed his destination. He quickened his pace and focused on the light. With haste he reached for the doorknob and quickly walked into a lightless room.

The sudden obscurity stole surprise from Ryan’s lips; he was certain that the bathroom light had been on, he could already the see the glare in the bathroom’s wall tiles from outside. Ryan thought the event strange and so he searched the wall with his hand to shed light on both the situation and the area, but when his fingers grazed the plaster of a different room, Ryan didn’t know what to think. His breathing quickened and, to calm himself down, he intended to walk back into the hallway. He turned around and was greeted with a closed door, but the design of the door was older and made of a darker wood, whereas the door to the bathroom had been white and very modern. This door bore no resemblance to the one he was searching for. A sudden nostalgia of the movie ‘Monsters Inc.’ swept over Ryan, but he dismissed it with a shudder of urgency. Suddenly, Ryan was shocked to his core as his eyes adjusted to the darkness and he became aware of where he was. The door before him was his own. It was the door to his bedroom. His bedroom that was about a mile away from the bathroom he was looking for. Fear and confusion gripped him as he threw his glances around the room he was scared to recognise. The carpet beneath his feet and the scent of his paint supplies scattered across his desk to the right and the empty bowl that had once contained oranges on his bed. He’d left the curtains open and now he was faced with the parallel grin of the man in the moon, whose light flowed down eerily through his window and onto his bed. þ

“Evening, Ryan.”

The voice was bold and icy. It filled the room with an Artic sensation and Ryan’s eyes were frozen into a wide-open state as terror crept through his bones. Hastily, Ryan spun his whole body around to find the source of the voice. And there, defying the mystic lunar glow that had settled across the rest of the room, a sudden shadow leant behind the door Ryan had just passed through. He stumbled backwards as the shadow began to move, morph and solidify. The white lights of a blind wolf emerged first form the darkness, like fearsome headlights fast approaching. Ryan had fallen to the ground and had pressed himself against his bed for its unattainable support. The body continued to manifest itself slowly; limbs fabricating from darkness quickly began to emerge and feet gripped down onto the ground with motions that seemed to drag the rest of the body; it appeared it was having difficulty escaping the darkness, or perhaps the difficulty was in coming into the light. The body was not slow however, it moved within a dark grey mist that coiled around it like a trained viper. The body was large and built, but still it moved with a smooth, liquid grace as the pointed face emerged with an expression of silent determination in the task at hand. Ryan was quick to notice that darkness forged the man’s attire as his body paled in the moonlight. His jacket was long enough to flow down from his shoulders to his calves and his shirt rolled tightly from his waist to a tight, buttoned end under his jaw. As the final trails of his jacket was dragged out of the black lake that’d been made of Ryan door, the shadows were soaked up into the black outfit the man donned, until there was nothing left of it that had not been sewed into his clothing. The man stood tall and opened his eyes slowly, revealing that those white eyes had too tapped into the darkness, as both the iris and pupil were black as the depths from which he’d wrenched himself. Finally, he looked at Ryan, shivering against the sudden heat in the room that had erupted when the darkness had entered, and he smiled with a toothy grin. Ryan’s eyes were wide and shaking in their sockets as he stuttered.

“Who are you?” His face was clearly trying to set itself into something akin to bravery, but the rest of his body betrayed the cause as the shivering continued or worsen. The man’s smile widened.

“Relax, child. I am no danger.” He spoke with less ice this time and his words were laced with sweetness, but Ryan felt sick from the words as they settled in his mind. “In fact, I am here to help you.” Patronising. That’s what Ryan had tried to identify; every syllable sounded as if it was soaked in black honey to tempt a child.

“With what?” The stutter lingered in the air.

“Why, with your powers, of course.” His grinned stretched to a Cheshire style as he spoke. The smile was the most unnerving part of this display; the darkness was frightening and the arrival encased Ryan in uncertainty and worry, but that smile was a sign of darkest malice dressed all in white. Ryan attempted to quickly feign ignorance on the subject, but the man shushed him with a cruel whisper. “I know, Ryan. I know you have the Power to See.”

“Well, it’s quite common, isn’t it, seeing? Bit tricky at first, but…” Of course. If all else should fail him, Ryan always had a wealthy reserve of sarcasm. Not something ingenious, resourceful or in any way useful, no, Ryan had sarcasm. But the man seemed to agree as he chuckled with earnest humour. The vibrations in his throat resembling the screeching of bats combined with the presage of coulrophobia. His face dropped into seriousness very quickly following his reaction and it seemed now still less frightening than his smile.

“Your power. The one where your eyes change colour and suddenly you can see anything you want to? That tiny, little talent, which allows you to see anything that’s happening across the world at a moment’s notice? That, if you want, allows you to see the ghosts that haunt every building older than a decade or what exact emotions people are feeling? That power? Ring any bells?” Ryan’s entire body had already been tense, but now it was beginning to crush itself in fear. A man had built himself out of shadows, stepped into the light and then proceeded to simply announce his darkest secret. The single thing about which Ryan had never been honest. The words had never left his lips and nobody should ever have guessed. But clearly, ‘secret’ was an ambiguous term because now this man, strangest of strangers, had managed to pinpoint every definition of the power with a dead, serious face. The man began smiling again as he saw his words resonate in Ryan’s frightened little mind; he seemed to be taking the opportunity to relish in the fear the child was feeling before continuing. “Your power is known as the Divine Sight. You must be made aware of your powers. To say that the power is rare would be rather an understatement. I am here to make it so you can use those powers to their fullest potential of a true Witch.”

Ryan’s mind was racing so fast his body couldn’t keep up, so he remained standing where he was with a dumb expression that expressed only fear, and the man, with a crying grin, drank in the sight.

“A what?” His voice shivered.

“A Witch.” The man enunciated with a delicious flex of his lips, like the word too had its own exquisite taste to it. Ryan opened his mouth to speak again, but the man looming above him, cheerily, silenced him. “I know what you’re going to say. Your mortal upbringing has made you ignorant, but I assure that Witches can be male also. The definition of such a being is a person with a talent that allows them direct and personal access to the Nexus! Do not fret, I will teach you what a Nexus is and all else that you need to know to draw your true power.” He leant down closer and caressed Ryan’s cheek with calloused hands. “You are indeed a marvellous creation.”

The man’s touch was unexpectedly soft, but it tore Ryan’s innards asunder; he was not sure what to do with all the information he was suddenly being made to absorb. He’d known about his so-called Divine Sight for a long time now, but this new information had turned him in to a Witch. Was there a reason to believe this man? Better yet, was there a reason to disbelieve him. The man terrified him, as would most people who built themselves out of shadows, but his words seemed to weigh true in his ears, despite very instinct inside him screaming to run away, he was already blocking the voices out and leaning towards the part of him that whispered ‘Trust him.’ Ryan would’ve flipped a coin if he’d had the opportunity, but there was only the option to just pick something.

Ryan chose to say ‘Teach me.’

The man smiled smile filled with gleaming teeth and dark malice. He stretched out an open palm from a curved arm. Ryan looked at it and saw that it was shaking slightly. Was this man afraid of something? Of Ryan? Ryan looked up from the extended invitation and straight into the man’s eyes; what he saw was not fear, it was excitement. His eyes were wide with a surge of anticipation and a terrifying glee. Ryan fought harder to block out the roaring voices telling him to get away as he took hold his hand. The man was also obscenely strong as he pulled Ryan from the ground to his feet with seemingly no effort to the point where Ryan was brought up into the air for a split second before reaching back down to the ground. When Ryan did touch back down to the ground, he was not greeted with his bedroom’s carpet, his trainers slapped gracelessly down onto varnished wood. The sudden change startled Ryan again, but now not as much as it had before. Still, the sudden change startled his body and his knees gave slightly obliging him to squat quickly in front of the man. He laughed and it seemed lighter than before. The area was suddenly a significant amount smaller than Ryan’s bedroom, the walls were painted white and the border between the wall and the floor was a light, tan wood that matched the wooden planks below. These planks were lined orderly and parallel to one another as they cascaded downwards as a flight of stairs into a corridor. The stairs intentionally led up to a landing and a door. The door was seemed to be older than all the other doors in the house, but it was also the least frequently used; the door led into the attic that had never been opened since Ryan was brought home. There were legends of thousands of lost articles sealed within the room, so many that both of Ryan’s parents had once needed to go up there at least twice a week, but the night Ryan was born the door had locked itself from the world and it had remained that very state for 16 years. Ryan had never been inside.

“How do you keep doing that?” Ryan asked startled and the man laughed at his lack of balance before explaining.

“It’s one of the powers that I possess.” He explained with a grin. “It’s a type of teleportation known as Jumping/Blinking. One minute you’re in one place, you think about where you want to go and you’re there. 

Ryan did nothing, but nod at the explanation. The concept seemed simple enough, but his mind naturally tried questioning the mechanics of it. He did his best not to think to much on the subject as it only wound up in a headache. Instead he asked a question that might have a simpler answer. “Why are we here?” Ryan asked. The shake in his voice had subsided and standing he noticed that this man wasn’t nearly as looming as he had been. In fact, Ryan was only an inch or two shorter. He turned towards the boy as he spoke.

“Because we need to get inside.” He explained obviously.

“It’s locked.” Was Ryan’s simple response. The response was apparently comical as well for the man couldn’t keep from chortling at the notion. The laughter subsided quickly and he was allowed to respond.

“Come now, Ryan,” the man sounded like he’d expected more of Ryan than that. “Even mortals know: You can get into any room you want, provided your willing to try.”

The man’s hand hovered parallel to Ryan’s chest, indicating for him to stand back. Ryan did and nearly fell down the stairs for lack of attention paid to where he was going. The man didn’t seem to notice as his eyes locked onto the doorknob. He shuffled his shoulders around under his skin, the sound of clicking was clearly heard, and he took a significant inhale. The man jerked forward suddenly like he was going to hurl, but instead there came an eruption of high-pitched sound flaring out form his mouth in visible, circular shockwaves. These shockwaves exploded from the man’s orifice and mercilessly struck into the doorknob, the bronze metal ruptured and seemed to bend under the noise until the entire thing eventually exploded itself, tearing a severe chunk out of the door’s wood and sent splinters flying in every direction. With no physical reason to stay in place, the door squeaked and creaked open for the first time since 1987. And the door’s opening revealed an area of complete and solid blackness, a totally opaque darkness saturated the space like water did to a sponge.

The man was quick to gesture Ryan inside and he followed silently. Upon his first step through the threshold, Ryan found himself nearly choking on the hazardous amount of dust that seemed to have collected from a decade and a half of idleness, he was doubled over and gasping for clear air. Ryan threw himself back over the threshold and coughed up a storm as he drank in the clear air to which he’d become so accustomed. There was a dark chuckle of sadistic amusement from above him, Ryan looked up and glared at the man weakly, he attempted to stop laughing, but couldn’t quite desist entirely. Through his stifled chuckles, the man reached into his pocket and produced a black handkerchief and instructed Ryan to try and use that for the sake of young lungs. Ryan eyed the handkerchief for a moment; it was of plain, black material and carried no scent, but he was given no reason to mistrust it for the moment and so he took it in his grasp. Ryan re-erected himself and clasped the patch over his mouth and nose and breathed in the air, which now tasted of something sweet and spicy and alluring and dark, but he was pleased that it didn’t smell of dust. Again, Ryan entered the attic and was surrounded by the loch of dust particles as they attempted again to drown him, though now he found he was able to swim. He moved further into the room and soon the darkness caught up with the dustiness. 

“Child,” the man spoke behind him and as Ryan turned around and recognised, it occurred to him that he’d never heard the man’s name. “You must use your eyes if you wish to see.” He sounded patronising, but it was true that Ryan had yet to use the gift he was assured he knew how to use. Turning back into the room, Ryan closed his eyes to the black, sooty world around him. He smiled as he felt his eyes relax, his retinas were expanding and preparing to absorb more and more than light. There was a sensation of the faintest euphoria coursing around his head and his body relaxed into itself. Finally, Ryan’s eyelids rose upwards and revealed the ‘Eyes of God’. The change was not spectacular, but it was impossible to miss; his eyes had been granted a negative effect and it made him appear like an aggravated Husky and just as frightening, his sclera were dark, they were not black in the same sense as the room was black for sheer lack of light, his eyes were darker than the void of space and it radiated; the darkness seemed to leak out of his sockets like a black light. His irises were equally frightening; they had turned from the kind, soft darkness Ryan usually wore into an emblazed shine of the purest light, the whites were bright and they shone like a silent scream, but they were focused and they would be clear through the thickest fogs like a beacon of power. Ryan’s pupils remained as they were, but they gave the image of Ryan’s eyes being a target, but also the sense that it was him who would hit his mark.

From Ryan’s perspective, the room was as it should be; the darkness of the attic had been obliterated, but not by any light. Ryan could see the entire room without either glare or shadow, as it seemed both had been absorbed into his own eyes as an exchange. The area was wide, but clustered with everything shoved to the side in order to make room for the mess the cluttered the centres of the room. The back wall was lined with a 4’ bookshelf and there was little space that wasn’t occupied by an older, rotting article or document, even the mantles of the furniture was lined with reads, half of which were poorly bound and wide open. There were several pieces of other furniture scattered around the room, armchairs were cast to corners and laden with more books, a rocking chair was settled in the middle of the room with the creepiest baby doll known to man sitting quite comfortably, her right eye apparently having popped out in raw frustration with whomever had finally opened the door and disturbed her piece. An old, tattered couch with floral prints from decades ago lounged under the single, large window whose drawn curtains allowed no light to filter through. Finally, to the Ryan’s left was a podium that could’ve been the grandfather of the one from which Ryan’s headmaster gives his speeches and on top of that was a large, leather bound book that was thick with yellowing parchment. This book was most likely older than every other book in the room combined and it Ryan’s eyes caught an alluring, multi-coloured aura emanating from cover to cover. Ryan felt drawn to the Book more than anything else he could ever think of being attracted to. Ryan was not the only one.

“There.” The voice whispered, Ryan noticed the change that flowed along his words now. The words were filled with desire and excitement, with shudders of poorly maintained patience and craving anticipation. “That one. That book.”

Ryan glanced over his shoulder and noticed his face was wide and grinning like a child’s when presented with their Christmas presents for that year. Ryan turned his gaze forward and held his eyes over the Book, he began to walk towards it but was startled when the man suddenly ran past him and moved to touch it. He hesitated and held his hands over the tome, his fingers were shaking and his expression was fall of disbelief. He seemed to question the Book’s authenticity for a moment before reassuring himself that it was the true tome. Ryan approached slower, wary of this new attitude that the man had adopted. Ryan had made a note to himself to keep one eye on each of them.

“What is it?” Ryan asked, keeping both of them in his so-called ‘Divine Sight’. The man turned towards him for only a moment before turning it back, seemingly thinking that he’d almost lost the thing he coveted.

“Your birth right.” Came the hushed response, but the man was too dazed by his discovery to care about who heard what he said. “The Legendary Blue Book of Shadows.”

Ryan focused down at the book. It was indeed bound in blue leather, but there seemed very little about it that should be considered ‘Legendary’. He deduced that it should be what was written inside that would deem it as such. Ryan did not bother to move his hands towards the Book as he watched the man stretch his shaky palms towards the Book’s cracked cover. His face expanded in glee with every centimetre that had digits traversed that drew the two of them closer together. Finally, the man’s fingers shot around the sides of the Book and gripped around the edges of the Book and Ryan watched with shocked eyes as the silent, sapphire explosion burst from where the man and the Book connected. Ryan’s head swung around to watch him fly backwards through the air and Ryan stared incredulously as his body flowed seamlessly through the adjacent wall of brick and wood. Ryan had no sooner witnessed the man pass through solid matter like a ghost than he heard the flutter of three-dozen butterflies just past his head. He swung his head back around and recognised that the sound was not butterflies, but the sound of the Book’s pages turning on their own. The pages fly around the binding for long minutes and Ryan was sure that there weren’t that many pages between the covers when the man had tried to touch the them, as if they pages were flowing out the podium on which the Book lay. Finally, the pages stopped on a double page. One page seemed to have short poem written in a gorgeous, ancient calligraphy. On the other page there was sealed envelope in which Ryan guessed was a letter for someone. The clue as for whom this letter was written in a different, but still beautiful handwriting on the top of the letter, it read Ryan.

Ryan felt obliged to take it in his hand and so he snatched it upwards, giving his best effort to not touch the Book’s pages. An expected reaction considering what had just happened. When he picked up the letter, he was certain he had accidently grazed the parchment of the Book and he squealed, but when nothing happened Ryan took it as a lucky trail and did not think it wise to test it. He stared at the Book for a moment more as he blindly tore open the letter, but once the letter was opened his eyes were scanning the paper eagerly and in panic.

 

My Sweet Child,

I’m sorry I could not tell you this myself, but this is what was meant to be. If I’m correct, you’ve been lead to this Book by a man named Calumn. He may have led you to believe that he is a Witch, like you, but he’s not. He’s a Demon and a dangerous one. His powers of Blinking and Sonokinesis will be what identify him, as I have no idea what form he may be using when he contacts you. I’ll explain more in due course, but for now you must use the Blue Vanquish Spell to defeat him.

I love you,

Mummy

Xx

 

‘Mummy?’ Ryan’s first thought was confused, but then the truth cleared itself in his mind, his eyes widened and his grip on the paper tightened fiercely. ‘My mother?’

From the centre of the room there was sudden presence and Ryan’s all-seeing eyes immediately did their job of taking notice. He snapped his head upwards to look at the man he could now identify as Calumn. Calumn looked a lot rougher for his contact with the Book, but the biggest change was his expression from glee to grizzly bear. He looked up at Ryan through angry eyes and a snarl. Then, a look of surprise crossed his features and Ryan noticed that Calumn had taken notice of the letter was Ryan was holding. The surprise turned to recognition and then it returned to rage, now intensified. Calumn immediately began to charge forward from the centre of the room towards the Book. First he was running and Ryan didn’t know what to do and resorted to simply standing there helpless and scared, but it was when Calumn blinked again that Ryan realised his idleness had made him a dead man. Ryan was still stunned when Calumn reappeared over as hovering over the Book, but it was simply Ryan’s mind slowing down the entire scene, his reactions included. Ryan watched as Calumn slowly descended downwards and he occurred to Ryan that Calumn’s chest was heaving. Did he have another one of those shockwaves saved up for him? Then, this was where it ended. Then, just as Ryan ha given up faith, he noticed that there was a faster movement than either of them; the page of the Book that had housed his mother’s letter had flicked itself to life and was now lazily suspended in the air, but it seemed to be falling down in the exact place it needed to fall for it to intercept Calumn’s black shoes. The edge of the paper barely collided with the tip of Calumn’s black shoes, but the reaction was just as explosive as before and the Demon was sent hurtling backwards across the room over to one of the bookcases. He did not fly through this time, instead he caught himself on the mantle of the bookshelf and hoisted himself back down to the wooden planks. Now, Ryan knew he had to do something. He took his mother's advice and tried to find the ‘Blue Vanquish Spell’, but he didn’t need to look far for of course it was the page next to the letter his mother had written. Ryan’s hands were slammed down on the podium’s desk, one hand on either side of the Book whilst he recited the words.

 

“By the Powers invested in mine spirit by the Darkest of Lights,

I curse the one who dares to cause mine Plight!

From one Time until Time is again and the origin of Place,

Be removed from this Reality without a Trace!

The words tasted old and were clumsy as Ryan recited them, but he spoke with conviction and with solid heart. His eyes had remained on the words before him the entire time and the result he desired was unknown to him, but by the tile and the passage Ryan deducted that this was a spell to destroy something or someone. Ryan slowly wrenched his head upwards from the Book so he could look upon the Demon now, but he looked up to see nothing living cross his Divine Sight. There was only one movement in the room besides the routine rise and fall of Ryan’s own chest and his eyes followed it mercilessly. In the centre of the room, where Calumn was just before Ryan had thrown his head down to cast the spell, there was single spiralling ribbon forged from the midnight sky; one side was black, but as the ribbon spiralled upwards into the attic’s ceiling it ceremonially revealed a side of dark blue, like the combination Ryan always used to paint a midnight sky. He watched the strand coil itself into the air and he stared at the ceiling long after it had finally disappeared from sight. With the relief of the Vanquish washing over him, Ryan relaxed his shoulders and released a sigh that he simply couldn’t believe he’d held for such a long time.

“Ryan?”

His heart leapt from his chest into mouth and the shock of it nearly made Ryan squeal like a frightened pig, but the second call of his name allowed Ryan the opportunity to recognise his father’s voice. He responded in confirmation and Joseph Grahams quietly came through the attic threshold in his old-fashioned stripped pyjamas and slippers. His hair was a mess and is thing lasses sat awkwardly on his face. Ryan’s eyes returned to normal before his father could see him and his father spoke to him in a cracked, tired voice that was to be expected of someone who’d been awoken at 3 in the morning by the sound of crashing in the abandoned attic of their home. Ryan lied through his teeth that he’d come back from the party and suddenly had the urge to get the door open, but when he’d succeeded he’d accidentally knocked over a stack of books. Joseph simply listened and nodded his head. He commended his son on his achievement, but also explained that now was the time for sleep, a notion Ryan was only happy to agree with. 

So, at 3:15 that morning, Ryan tiredly floated down the stairs from the attic in his Angelic gown, gone to his room, changed and gotten into bed. Safe in the knowledge that Halloween was over, but “Ryan relaxed as best as he could and, within minutes, he succumbed to exhaustion and fell into the deepest of slumbers.

It was about 5 in the morning when the sky had lost all of its black and was the famous blue was recovering the landscape where space’s portrait had hung. The blue was still dark and the pinks of first light were hidden beyond the horizon. Ryan slept quietly and dreamlessly, tucked tight under his duvet. Halloween may have been considered over a few hours ago, but the spirits of the Buried Realm knew that it was not day until the Sun declared so, as far as the last trailing spirits were concerned, neither All Hallows’ Eve nor Samhain were over quite yet.

A woman dressed in the finest silk stood was bent down on her knees with her left cheek upon her arm that rested on Ryan’s bed. She faced him and smiled at his peaceful face. She sought to stroke his hair or caress his face, but she had no means of doing so. Not anymore. Her head rocked upwards to the sound of silent bells ringing in the distance. She sighed and held her head straight. She smiled down at Ryan and laid a weightless kiss on his temple before she rose up to standing.

“You did well, Ryan.” She smiled down at him with diamond tears in her eyes. She wiped them away quickly and composed herself. “I’ll always love you, my darling, but you need to be strong.”

The Sun’s light revealed itself over the highest structures in Ryan’s horizon. She turned around to see the end of her time in the Living Realm come to a close for another time, the process had always been hard, harder now that she was leaving behind such a dangerous path. The sunlight burst through the open window and struck through her body painlessly. She was unconcerned with the way her body disappeared when the light pierced her flesh; she had long ago accepted it. As the light continued to pour in, there was no place left for her to hide from the light, and so she disappeared. Samhain had come to another end. 

2: Paraphrase

To Paraphrase Dr Cooper, ‘Ah Cathy, Thou Art A Heartless Bitch’

 

6/11/03

 

Ryan packed his French folder into his backpack and prepared to close the too small bag closed. He held the black schoolbag by its side and pulled the zipper inch by inch to seal the material together. After a successful one-minute victory, he picked the backpack up and carried it on his shoulder down the stairs into the kitchen. Everything was clean and each surface seemed to reflect the garden outside, even the ones that weren’t facing the garden. As Ryan walked in, he saw his mother drinking coffee and reading the paper whilst his father buttered his toast.

“Good Morning,” Ryan said to the room.

“Good Morning, sweetheart,” Celia, Ryan’s mother, returned, “did you sleep well?”

“I did,” Ryan answered, “although, I’m a bit disappointed.”

“Why?”

“Just a bit uneventful,” Ryan smiled.

“Ah, you think your funny now?” Celia smiled, reaching for her coffee mug.

“Now? I’ve always been hilarious!” Ryan said, flicking his head like a mad man.

Celia simply nodded and sipped at her caffeine. In a moment, Joseph was also at the table, biting into his toast. The room was filled with a comfortable quiet, disturbed only by the crunching bite and chew of Joseph and his toast. Joseph wiped his mouth and looked at Ryan.

“Ah yes, Ryan,” he began, Ryan looked up “we’ve got some good news.”

Ryan looked interested and his mother, though lost at first, understood what he was talking about soon after.

“I know how eager you were for us to get started on this, so we did,” Joseph said, building up the suspense “so, we called up the agency and already we’ve had a call back saying that they got a lead on finding your birth father. If all goes well, we should have a name and address by the end of the month, at the latest.”

Ryan burst into a grin at the news, he even started his lips to try and contain himself.

“Really? That’s great!” he was amazed that after 16 years, he’d finally know whom his parents were “I mean, obviously I love you guys, but this is so cool! So, that’s my father, what about my mother?”

“Well,” Joseph cleared his throat of any residual crumbs in his throat “as you know, your mother was quite an enigma and we only met her the one time. She didn’t leave a name or anything, but I’m certain that if the agency can find your father, your mother shouldn’t prove to be too much trouble.”

“Wow!” Ryan whispered, “I can’t believe it.”

Both of the Grahams smiled at their son. No parent can deny the good feeling they get when they see their child so happy, even if it was a smile for other parents. Celia looked down at her thin, silver watch and gasped.

“Oh! It’s nearly twenty past, I’d best get going!” she said, folding up her paper, “big book signing at one of the big Waterstones near Fleet Street. Wish me luck.”

She kissed her husband on the cheek and then her son, both of which said “Good Luck!” as she did so. She then grabbed her handbag, fixed her hair in the mirror in entrance and then left the house.

“Come to think of it,” Joseph looked up at the clock “you should get going too.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ryan shrugged, getting up, “bye Dad!”

“Bye!”

Ryan walked out of the door with his unnecessarily heavy schoolbag half on his back and left to walk the 10 minutes it took to get to Lilith’s. Of course, there was a strange feeling in the back of Ryan’s mind that said that he could’ve waited just a little bit longer.

 

~\*/~

 

Ryan tapped his black school shoe impatiently on the concrete of the street, waiting for Lilith to appear from outside of her front door. Ryan lifted his wrist to look at his watch, pursing his lips irritably, darting his eyes over to the front door once again waiting for it to open. 5 minutes later, the light wooden door finally swung inwards and outstepped the girl with black and burgundy hair, and today it was tied into pigtails. The traditional Baxter Public School uniform for girls was green blazer, white shirt, pink tie, black skirt and shoes, all neatly ironed, polished and worn properly. Lilith was not one for tradition; her blazer sleeves were rolled up, top button unbuttoned, tie loosely tied around her neck, but closer to her cleavage, and black suede heel boots. Of course, she looked fine as hell, but that wasn’t the point. Her shoes crunched the entire way down her gravel driveway until she turned the corner of the wall and saw the only man in her heart and she greeted him as one would for such a special person.

“’Sup Faggot,” she smiled.

“Nice to see you too,” Ryan smirked back.

They began walking down the street together towards the bus stop. Ryan carried his backpack with one loop around his right arm and the other swinging behind him. Lilith had her messenger back slung over her shoulder, carrying it like a man.

“So, you’re actually gonna meet your parents?” Lilith said surprised, “dude! That is awesome for you!”

“Well, they said they’re gonna try and find my father,” Ryan corrected, “whether I meet them or not is up to whether they want to see me.”

“Well, do you?”

“Yeah, I guess,” Ryan said, “y’know, I never really thought about it. I always felt like my parents were my parents. I’ve always known I was adopted, but I’ve always been a Graham, so I never put that much thought into who my biological parents really were.”

They walked quietly for a moment. Stopping at the bus stop.

“Well,” Lilith said suddenly, “if I were you, I’d be pissed off!”

“Yes, I know,” Ryan said as if it was obvious, “of course, you once got so angry at a vending machine you kicked through the glass.”

“It was weak!”

“You had heels on,”

“It cheated me!”

“You lost 60p,”

“I needed my chocolate!”

“There was a guy literally 5 feet away who could’ve got it for you,”

“I am an independent, black woman and I don’t need no man!” she yelled, slightly startling the other kids nearby.

“You’re pale as a ghost and you need me to help you go to sleep,” Ryan said straight faced.

“I’m Goth and I don’t sleep because it is boring!”

“I’m not even gonna argue with you,” Ryan waved his hands in the air.

“Because you know you can’t win,” Lilith celebrated.

“Because I know you and even if I’m right you won’t admit it,” Ryan stuck his tongue out at her.

“I don’t care, I’m countin’ it!”

Ryan and Lilith spent another moment being quiet between topics. Ryan looked at his watch and then at the bus schedule.

“Where the hell is this bus?” Ryan asked looking down the road to see if it was coming, but there was no sign of anything except a black Mercedes®.

The traffic a few yards ahead was backing up to the bus stop, so the black Mercedes was forced to stop almost right near the bus stop. They both ignored the black vehicle for a minute, until Lilith thought she recognised it. Upon closer inspection, she discovered the car to be exactly the one she remembered. She started hitting Ryan’s arm to get his attention.

“Yes?” he asked tiredly, clearly used to his arm being abused by Lilith.

“I think I know who’s that is,” she sounded surprisingly excited.

“Who?”

“Connor Vincent, he’s in our year, remember?” she said, as if it were so obvious.

“OK? And?”

“OK, I know I’ve been able to hide this really well, but,” she took an unnecessarily dramatic breath, before turning up her nose and giving a disapproving look “I do not like him.”

“I know, you told me that last time we saw him,” Ryan said with a straight face, “he passes every other day.”

“He’s just so smug and cocky!” she snarled, drawing out every word as she did so, “he walks around like he owns the place with those girls who act like they’re little princesses and the boys who think they’re all Justin Timberlake. He drives to school in the back of a Mercedes and then has it pick him up. I bet his life is bloody perfect! With servants and money and women and…money.”

“I see, I see…” Ryan murmured.

A short silence.

“Have you ever actually spoken to him?” Ryan asked.

“Not even once,” Lilith answered, “but I see the way he walks around the school, like he’s bloody perfect.”

“Well, when I walk I put one leg in front of the other,” Ryan joked, “y’know right, left, right, left. So, does he go left, right, left, right?”

“Oh shut up!” she smiled, elbowing him in the side, “just because somebody had a crush on him in Year 9.”

“You swore you’d never speak of that!”

“I…!” Lilith did a dramatic hair flick, “had my fingers crossed.”

“No!” Ryan gasped melodramatically, “no. It cannot be! How could you?”

“Because…I am…” Lilith was leading to a big reveal, “Bat- Oh look, the bus is here.”

 

~\*/~

 

In the girl’s changing room at Baxter’s, the girls were either totally confident with their bodies or entirely closed off about it. Of those who were confident, there were two more categories; the ‘If You Got It, Flaunt It’, like Cathy Roads and Lisa James, and then there was that ‘I’ve Got It…Great!’, which was basically Lilith, who was probably the only girl within the school who honestly just did not care about her body. Of course, her body was perfect; perfectly sized and shaped breasts, tight abs and bum you could bounce a coin off of. As the girls were unbuttoning their white shirts and exposing the multitude of filled and unfilled bras. The girls all began talking.

“So, Jamie’s Halloween party,” one of them started, “I saw you and Duncan disappear pretty early. Details?”

“Well, I don’t like to kiss and tell-” she edged on, smiling.

“Then don’t,” Lilith mumbled to herself, still lazily undoing her shirt buttons.

And, like the lookouts of a Meerkat pack being alerted by a sudden sound, all the popular girls stopped talking and snapped their heads to the far corner of the locker room, where Lilith simply continued undoing her shirt.

“You got something to say, Scene Queen?” the leader, Cathy, snarled.

“Hm, personality of a female wolf,” Lilith kept murmuring as though impressed “yet the ears of a bat.”

“Hey!” Cathy called again, finally seizing Lilith’s attention “if you’ve got something to say, say it to my face.”

“I would, but this is a T-rated story,” Lilith kept a straight face “but, if you must know, I was simply saying to myself that a person who prides themselves on not ‘kissing and telling’ yet immediately follows the statement with a story of Kiss and Tell, isn’t necessarily the most trustworthy of people.”

Lilith stood up undo the last two buttons of her shirt, when Cathy responded.

“Well, at least I’m not some pathetic attention-seeker who spends all of her time with some bender!” Cathy taunted, but Lilith just raised her eyebrows as if to say ‘Really?’.

Lilith peeled of her white shirt, showing the dents and definition of perfect six-pack embedded into her stomach. She dumped the white shirt on top of her bag and got her white polo out.

“Sweetie, I’ve seen you around,” Lilith smirked, “and I can tell you that you are everything you just described. In fact, the only difference in what we think of each other is the hair, the muscles and the soul. All of which favour me.”

Lilith tugged on her polo, but whilst her six-pack showed through, her D-cups showed over the dip in the shirt. She then started pulling down her skirt and traded it for her forest green skort.

“Y’know what?” Cathy said, after thinking of a retort “I think that you’re just jealous and I think you really need to-”

“I’m gonna have to stop you right there,” Lilith said holding up a hand “you see, whilst I am impressed you were able to actually ‘think’, whatever that means for you, it has occurred to me that, due to the infrequency of said action, your thoughts are not going to be that impressive. So, if you don’t mind, I have a class my parents are paying for to attend.”

Cathy was stunned, as if she’d never spoken to that way in her life. She began scrambling for words to send back, but by the time she stuttered out a ‘Well, you-’ Lilith was out the door sending a pretty little bird back into the room.

 

~\*/~

 

The game was Dodgeball.

Girls vs. Girls.

The giant, echoing Sports Hall, covered in lines of all different colours, each relevant to a different sport, was being used by 22 sixteen year old girls for the dangerous and aggression-encouraging war game disguised as a playful, team-building exercise. The teacher standing to the side of the court blew her whistle and the game began. Girls from each side of the court ran to the middle and collected their big, red balls before quickly shuffling back, keeping their eyes on their opponents’. The first ball was thrown, but it missed, bouncing against the wall to be picked up by the other side’s player. Cathy Roads was getting involved, quickly manoeuvring in and out of balls being thrown at her and weaving through team players. She aimed and chucked her ball at another girl’s stomach, both winding her and sending her to the ‘Prison Camp’ of a blue judo mat on Cathy’s side of the court. In contrast, Lilith was leaning against the back of the wall, waiting to either be hit or for a ball to get close enough to her that she could simply pass it onto another teammate. With one foot on the floor and one on the wall and her nails between her teeth, she looked like she was having the time of her life. Cathy, after knocking out her third girl, realised that she hadn’t seen Lilith yet, after scanning the room, she saw her casually leaning against the wall and decided to get her revenge à la court! Lilith’s team only had two players left, including her. The other girl was a hard worker, but was quickly knocked out.

“Lilith!” the teacher called, “come on! You’re the only one left!”

Lilith sighed largely, before forcing herself of the wall. Lilith was the only one on her side, but the other side had three girls, Cathy included. Lilith bent down and picked up one of the stray balls on the floor and patted it with a bored expression.

The first girl threw a well-aimed ball at Lilith, but she, with a grace and dexterity to rival Anna Pavlova quickly moved the ball she was holding and deflected the opposing red orb; the ball thrown flew straight up into the air, whilst Lilith rolled her arm around and hurtled her ball straight into that girl’s stomach. Out. The ball came back down and Lilith spun into the catch before tossing the ball and caught the second girl’s shoulder. Out.

And then there were two.

Cathy rolled the ball around between both her hands, trying to look menacing. Lilith had her right hand on her hip, her left hanging limp by her side and looked back at Cathy with bored eyes and biting her cheek. Cathy finally charged and careered the ball through the air and made a beeline for Lilith’s chest, leading to very painful victory.

But she caught it.

With one hand still on her hip, still chewing on her lip, Lilith held up one hand with the large red ball trapped inside. Lilith was entirely unaffected by Cathy’s admittedly powerful throw before flexing her fingers and shot the ball straight back down the beeline and slamming into Cathy’s cleavage, knocking her down onto the ground with a bang.

“Winner, Lilith’s Team!” the teacher hollered.

The entire team cheered and ran over to Lilith and cheered for her victory. Lilith smiled and thanked everyone. Cathy picked herself up the floor with her friends surrounding her and asking if she was OK. She got up and shooed them all away. Lilith’s team cleared out too, leaving Lilith to be in a direct line with Cathy. Cathy looked as angry as bull in the Red Rock Canyon, compared to Lilith who, by expression, still couldn’t give any less of a damn.

“You haven’t won, y’know,” Cathy announced.

“Then why did all those people hug me?” Lilith said, pointing a thumb back to the changing rooms “’cuz usually it’s just ma faggot who does that, and that’s rare.”

“I’m on to you,” Cathy said, “there’s no sixteen year old in the world who’s that strong.”

“…Except, I’m that strong, so…” Lilith shrugged.

“Steroids are not an answer for your own insecurities, Lilith,” Cathy preached suddenly “I hope you know that.”

“Sucking is not a special skill, in either sense of the word,” Lilith returned, “I hope you know that. Now, I’m gonna peace out because I don’t enjoy talking to you.”

Lilith spun on her heels and walked straight out of the Sports Hall to get changed. Cathy simply looked at Lilith walk away with a disapproving look.

‘You, Lilith Willow, will rue the day you messed with me!’ Cathy thought.

Whilst at the exact same time, Lilith was thinking too ‘I wonder what’s for lunch? I hope it’s lasagne, I have got a real hankering!’ 

3: Cliché

Cliché But True; Things Are Almost Never What They Seem.

 

6/11/03

 

After the grand festivity that was P.E., Lilith clip-clopped her way across the concrete Quad and turned left to get to the Theatre. Drama was Lilith’s favourite class of all; her teacher Ms Pool was so weird that even Lilith was a little bit scared of her. Lilith checked her watch for the time, 9:49. Looking at the Theatre doors, Lilith saw all the boys running about and messing with each other and the girls sitting around and talking. Lilith sighed, reminded herself that she doesn’t talk to any of these people and kept on walking. As she came closer to the glass doors, the red hair of Ms Pool turned around the white, brick corner and gave a stretched, though sincere, smile as she greeted her class cheerily. She unlocked the door and the led the class past the empty rows of seats and onto the stage.

“All right class,” Ms Pool enunciated each syllable properly “you’re going to continue your pieces from last week. Keep in mind, that you’re stimulus is ‘The Seven Deadly Sins’. Get yourselves ready and we’ll perform them in 30 minutes.”

Each of the students broke off into their respective groups; Lilith was in a group consisting of herself, two boys and a girl, none of whom Lilith really knew, and Connor. Two weeks ago, they’d sorted their scenes out, now they were just perfecting them. The story was fairly simple; Lilith was a girl called Ruby who is being tormented by the Devil (Connor). In the first scene, Ruby sits on the floor whilst all the others stand on blocks and chant ‘maddening’ things at her before circling her whilst repeating the same ‘maddening’ words until they all walk off the stage. Ruby returns on a block with the last boy playing a psychologist asking her to share, but the second she does Connor comes on and torments her some more, eventually convincing her to murder her own mother. In the next scene, she does kill her mother and is sent to a mental asylum. In the end scene, the settings are the same as the beginning, except this time Connor, the Devil, channels his voice through Ruby’s mouth essentially condemning the entire audience to eternal damnation.

“I quite like it actually,” Lilith smiled at the group, most of whom feared her.

“It’s just random,” Connor explained, “and it has nothing to do with any of the Seven Sins.”

“It has everything to do with them!” Lilith argued.

“Just because it has the Devil in it, doesn’t mean it necessarily has a real connection to the Sins,” Connor returned, “which sin is it even based on?”

“Obviously Wrath!” Lilith said.

“How?”

“Ruby is tormented by the Devil who digs up her insecurities and makes her kill her mother IN RAGE!” Lilith pointed out “and even after that, her parents are clearly ENVIOUS of all the other parents who don’t have to deal with this crap. There! Two sins! Boom!”

Lilith sat back in her chair with pursed lips on her face that said ‘Suck it!’ But Connor could only stare it in confusion and slight fear.

“What are- what are you doing with- what does that expression mean?” Connor had to ask.

“It’s my ‘Suck It Face’,” Lilith explained, pointing to her lip “I do this when I win, so people know that they can suck it!”

“I see…” Connor said, still confused and scared, but just more of both “shall we rehearse?”

 

~\*/~

 

The bell rang and Connor walked out ahead of everyone, eager to get back to his locker. He walked out across the Quad, his shoes clacking behind him on the empty concrete surface, just before anyone else came out of their classes and wanted to talk to him. Truth be told, Connor was one of the most popular boys in the school; of course, rich, smart, athletic, tan and the son of Gerald Vincent, one of the richest men in England at the time, but he really didn’t like it. He hung out with loads of people, but he never called any of them friends, some of them didn’t even pretend to like him or each other, but they still hung out and smiled and laughed and threw thinly-veiled insults at each other. Today, Connor simply wanted to take a day out from them all and… well, he hadn’t entirely decided yet.

Connor took a turn up the stairs and entered the Old Building of the school. The Old Building was the first building built back when the school began. Right now, they used it for English, Maths and Assemblies, but there was also a locker room and plenty of empty, unlocked Maths classrooms that would be vacant all lunch. As Connor walked in, clutching his black messenger bag to his side, he accidentally bumped shoulders with one of the very boys he was here to avoid. Brandon and Justin were two popular boys who were not only good friends, but were also very well built for 16. They spent far too much time in the gym and certainly not enough time on their work, but it simply meant that they were better for fights than feuds.

“Sorry,” Connor said quickly before trying to turn around, but Brandon wasn’t happy with that. Brandon grabbed Connor by his shoulder and spun him around and knocked his bag off of his shoulder, spilling Connor’s books across the floor.

“Really?” Connor sighed before attempting to bend down and pick them up, however he was restricted.

Connor looked behind and, in his peripheral vision, he saw the blonde Justin grabs him by his arms and hold him in a Full Nelson. Brandon then approached Connor menacingly.

“Y’know you should really watch where you’re going,” Brandon whispered, “you never know who you might bump into.”

“Look, I’m sorry,” Connor said, “but if you don’t mind, I need to go see a teacher.”

“Well, actually, I do mind,” Brandon glared, “Don’t mess with the bull, young man. You’ll get the horns.”

“Fine, I’m sorry, but-” Connor began, but stopped to think of something “wait, isn’t that from the Breakfast Club- Ah!”

Brandon’s clenched fist was already lodged in Connor’s stomach, forcing him to gasp for air that was suddenly winded out of him. Small drops of saliva dripped from his gaping mouth as Brandon removed his fist, but only to go back in with another hard, swift blow to the abdomen. Connor felt that he couldn’t breathe and that both of his lungs and his stomach felt hot. Burning. As if his organs were begging him for release that he could not give.

 

Then, thank God, Justin let Connor drop to the floor and he gasped for the dusty air that layered the school floor. He felt the shadows of both Brandon and Justin loom over him and, through the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears, he heard Brandon tell him to watch where he was going. Connor could only nod, or rub his cheek into the ground as the situation was. He watched the shadows walk away and forced himself off of the ground, just in time to hear the first doors opening, releasing the beasts known as school kids. Connor ran up the stairs and to the locker rooms, knowing that, if he hurried, he could still make his plan work.

 

~\*/~

 

Ryan leant against the wall of the Old Building with his red tie highlighted the black shirt he wore underneath his unbuttoned shirt and his eyes closed, like he was asleep. Ryan heard the doors of the Old Building open, coupled with the obnoxious laughter of teenage boys. Thankfully he was around the corner form the door, in the blind spot. Ryan was wearing a frown and his brows were furrowed in frustration.  After a moment, Ryan opened his eyes. His sclera was black and his iris was white, but the sorrow and pity was just as clear. Ryan then began biting on his lower lip, guilt flowing through his mind.

‘I’m sorry…’ he thought, sending his apologies into the air, praying that, by some miracle, his words would reach Connor ‘I really am…’

4: Psyche Fact 1

Psychological Fact: Parents Naturally Make Their Children Feel Inadequate In Their Presence

 

6/11/03

 

Ryan pushed the brass and nickel key into the lock of his front door and twisted it to the left, letting himself in. He announced that he was home to the house in general, which was responded by summons to the kitchen. Ryan dropped his back on the couch as he walked through the living room and into the kitchen. Both of his parents were sitting at one end of the table and a chair was pulled out for Ryan at the other end. There was a plate of freshly baked cookies on the table, which Ryan noticed immediately.

“Fresh cookies,” he commented, “well, I’m clearly in the wrong house, but the question is do I want to leave?”

Both of his parents were quiet, until his mother asked him to sit down. Ryan obeyed and looked at both of his parents, especially his mother who looked like she’d had to put down a puppy.

“Ooh, what a face. Who died?” Ryan joked, but, when nobody else laughed, he felt the mood of the room finally sink in. He stopped smiling and his mouth turned small. He began searching his parents’ eyes, but his mother wouldn’t look at him, suddenly finding the floor very interesting.

“Son, I think you should keep in mind that this may not be easy,” his dad began, “but we think it’s best that you know now.”

Ryan was beginning to worry. A great multitude of things began to race through his head; Death, Illness, Crimes, or worse, they found at he was failing Science.

“It’s about your father,” Joseph continued.

‘He’s dead. He’s a criminal. He’s Hitler. No, he’s not Hitler...although…’ Ryan thought all these things, but kept a neutral face.

“It turns out that,” Joseph stalled for a second, “he died a few months before you were born. June to be precise. Now, I know this must be hard for you…”

Ryan stopped listening very quickly after that. His father’s voice drained out and, with the surroundings, faded away into nothing. The words repeated in his head. ‘He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s dead.’ Ryan’s face simply did not change, so his father kept talking, but the words were entirely wasted, until Joseph said something that caught Ryan’s attention.

“Wait,” Ryan said suddenly, “what did you just say?”

“We have a name and an old photograph?” he repeated, “they said it was probably before your mother was ever pregnant.”

“Can I see it?” Ryan asked quickly.

Joseph was quiet as he looked to his wife, who simply nodded. Joseph reached into his briefcase and produced an old Polaroid with a picture of a man. He looked about twenty-something, a small beard and short hair; he was smiling and embracing a younger woman who was showing off the ring on her finger. They both looked incredibly happy, presumably it was a picture of them recently engaged. Ryan wanted to smile at the picture, but found he couldn’t move his face anymore. He turned the picture around and saw a message written in thick, black felt-tip.

“Just Engaged! Super excited! Look at the size of the ring!”

 

• Amy and Cal

 

‘Amy must be my mother…’ Ryan thought, ‘the one who wrote the note so I’d vanquish-!’

“Cal?” Ryan murmured, “Calumn?”

“Yes,” Joseph answered, “his name was Calumn Reeves.

Ryan, without another word, stood up from his chair and walked out of the kitchen. As soon as Ryan was out of the room, Celia began to sob. Joseph held her and shushed her gently until she stopped.

 

~\*/~

 

Ryan walked up into his room, closed the door quietly and sat on the edge of his bed. He sat like that for over an hour, not moving, barely thinking. After so much time had passed, he began to come back to himself, and his first reaction was to get Lilith. He sent her a text.

‘Com ovr. I nd 2 tlk.’

Ryan put his phone down on the bed next to him, and then he stopped moving as he’d done before.

Within 10 minutes, there was a knock at the window. Ryan turned around slowly, the first movement since sending the text that was more than the minute rise and fall of his breathing chest, to see Lilith waving her hand cheerily. She stopped when she saw his expression and, with one hand still holding herself on his 1^st floor window, she lifted the window up from the outside and climbed in herself. She immediately went over to him and sat on the bed next to Ryan. Almost immediately, he dropped his head onto her shoulder and she wrapped her arm around him.

“My real dad,” he started, getting her attention “he’s dead.”

“Ryan…”

‘And I killed him,’ was what he wanted to say, but he knew that he couldn’t. Ryan was a Witch, Lilith was Mortal, for whatever reason it wasn’t allowed. That’s what the book said anyway.

Ryan talked more about what he was feeling; but he never said that he was sad about it. It just felt quite numb. It felt like he was forcing himself to cry over something he didn’t know anything about. Like when you tell someone that your family member’s died and they act really shock and sympathetic, but they don’t really feel anything. It’s like feeling sorry for someone else, when that someone else is you.

Ryan continued to speak about his parents, both biological and surrogate, and how he felt. How he felt so lucky to have parents like Joseph and Celia who were kind and generous and smart and helpful (Lilith also pointed out that they were rich. Twice), but that there was always a tiny, hypothetical part of Ryan that always wondered what his life would be like if Calumn didn’t die and Amy didn’t…disappear was the word used. Ryan couldn’t help but question how massive the gap would be if whatever happened, hadn’t happened. Lilith gave all the support she could; telling him it would be all right, everything happened for a reason, and that, if he wasn’t adopted, they never would’ve met way back in nursery. Ryan appreciated that, but also considered what would’ve happened if he’d been adopted by someone else. Would he be happy? Would he be successful? Would he still have the Book? Would he be gay? All these questions and more spilled from him, all without either moving from their position on the bed.

After about four hours of staying by Ryan’s side, he was calm enough for Lilith to go back home. If it was 10:45 now, she would be back at 10:55 and her mother would not be happy.

“OK,” Ryan said, raising his head, “I guess you do have to go.”

“Yeah…” Lilith said, discontented by the situation “you’ll be OK though, yeah?”

“I’ll be fine,” Ryan nodded before standing up to get ready for a shower “good night Lilith.”

“Good night, m’love,” she smiled.

Lilith climbed out of the window and jumped the two floors down, landing gracefully on one knee, as if she was proposing to the Invisible Man. She stood up again and ran up to begin climbing over the 8’ fences that guarded the garden of all the rich folks that lived around here. Lilith, with legs that sent her higher than Hermes’ sandals, found herself bounding over each fence with relative ease. She tucked and rolled upon each landing so that she never stopped moving. It was already Autumn, so Lilith was wearing just her plain purple jumper with one shoulder drooped over her left shoulder, underneath her smoking leather jacket, and black jeans, and yet she returned home without even a smudge upon her. She arrived in her own garden and looked up into her window that looked over the very grasses that she stood in. With her black, suede heel boots still on, she backed up to a far hedge inside her garden and began the run up to the patio, she stopped just where the grass ended and pushed herself up with a silent, forceful grunt into the earth and pushed herself off of the ground, with a mid-air somersault and landed graciously onto the rim of her balcony barrier. She regained totality of her balance and smirked at her own coordination. She calmly stepped onto the small area of stone the crossed her glass doors and glided the panes across and stepped onto the carpet of her room. She swiftly kicked off her heels and dropped both that and her jacket on the floor. Finally she flopped down onto her bed and spread her arms.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Lilith snapped up, her loose black and burgundy hair falling over her left eye. Lilith flicked the hair out of her face to see her mother standing in her open doorway with her arms crossed and her face unhappy.

“Was my door open this whole time?” Lilith asked earnestly, but her mother didn’t answer.

“Where the hell have you been?” she repeated, slower.

“Ryan’s,” Lilith answered blatantly, “where else do I go?”

“Don’t you think you should’ve told me?” she asked, irritation clear in her voice.

“It was kind of an emergency,” Lilith said, peeling of her purple jumper, revealing a white tank top.

“Nothing that means you don’t do your homework or tell me you’re going somewhere or climb the house to sneak back in,” her mother listed.

“Mum,” Lilith said flatly, looking her mother in the eye “I did my homework in a flat five minutes, as usual, I was ten minutes away by walk and I’m sorry about sneaking in, not that I know why that warrants an apology, and the house is fine.”

“Look here,” she said, getting closer “you may not understand why I’m worried about this stuff, so let me explain. I didn’t know you were gone; if you had been abducted or raped between here and Ryan’s, how would I ever know? I’d just be here thinking ‘Where is she?’ And I bet you went through all our neighbours’ gardens again, which they all complained to me about! I don’t think you understand how your actions effect other people!”

Lilith stood up, getting quite pissed off herself.

“Look,” she said, her voice growing firmer with agitation, she then lifted her shirt up to the bottom on her black bra “do you see this? This is a 6-pack that gives me the power to crush and snap anybody who tries anything. I’ll apologise to the neighbours myself and I’ll even fix their gardens for them, not that I’ve ever actually damaged the neighbours’ garden. And as for how you feel when I’m gone, I’m sorry for how you worry, but you know I’m never far!”

“No!” Lilith’s mother yelled, “you don’t understand. There are more consequences than you realise! Look, just go to bed! I’ll talk to you tomorrow!”

Lilith’s mother turned away and slammed the door behind her. Lilith stared at the door and her face slowly contorted in anger.

“Oh my God!” she yelled at the ceiling “what the hell is her problem? Can she not-! Grr!”

She walked around her bed, looking out into the garden.

“Ooh!” she gritted her teeth, “sometimes I wish I had a sword, just for the satisfaction of putting through her. A Sword!”

As Lilith called the words, on her bed the covers sank slightly and the faint of a shadowy silhouette with one very long section appeared on the bed. Lilith snapped her head upward, feeling a change in the air. She tossed her head to look at her bed, thinking that what she sensed was on her bed. She looked at her bed, but saw nothing. She was about to turn her head back when she saw the slight dent that the object’s mirage had made in her, meant-to-be flat duvet. Lilith mulled it over in her head for a second before turning back to her window and staring outside, deciding that it could wait until morning, provided she remembered.

5: Premonition

A Powerful Premonition

 

7/110/03

 

At 9 in the morning, Lilith walked into the school’s Art Building. She climbed the two flights of stairs to the second of three floors. She held her hands on the brick walls to try and push her up quicker. She jumped the last three steps and turned sharply into the Art Room.

“And next week, you’ll be given your Christmas Project,” Ms Gill explained, addressing the class “thank you for joining us Ms Willow.”

“You’re welcome,” Lilith replied lazily as she strode in on her heels.

“Are those regulation school shoes?” Ms Gill asked sarcastically.

Lilith stopped, turned and gestured to her entire uniform “Look at me. What part of this look ‘regulation’? What part looks ‘school’?”

Ms Gill said nothing, but gave Lilith a judging glare before returning to her speech.

“Your theme has yet to be finalised, but I would strongly recommend that you take another look at ‘Pirates of the Caribbean’!” she announced.

The classroom cheered, giggled and whispered about how good the theme was this year. Everyone was throwing around their ideas, before Ms Gill returned their attention to her.

“As for today, however,” she continued, “you will be continuing your work on ‘Personal Demons’.

Lilith was sitting next to Ryan, who’d gotten there on time, but she kept in mind to be sympathetic.

“So,” he began, “you were talking about your mother-”

“Oh my God! The She-Devil herself!” Lilith yelled quietly through gritted teeth, “I hear where she’s coming from, I do, but she’s way over-reacting! It’s like she’s hell-bent on keeping me locked up in that house!”

“Be careful, she might turn it into a prison,” Ryan joked.

“Yeah,” she laughed, “a proper lockdown. Like in the films; metal blinds going down over the windows and doors that even I can’t break through.”

They giggled together thinking of the silly idea of that happening. Before Ms Gill shushed them. Of course, they were immediately quieter, but they certainly weren’t silent and it only got louder from there.

About 10 minutes in, the class was in a real swing. Everyone had found their muse and the paint was finally getting to the canvas, the first time in a while for some.

The subject was ‘Personal Demons’, something that every single person can relate to. For some they were illustrating their fears; Drowning, Burning, Heights, Death all that. Other were painting living ‘Demons’; Bullies, Evil Stepparents, Boogeymen.

Lilith had opted for the prior; she used dark and light colours to portray a combination of Thanatophobia, Claustrophobia and Metallophobia. She was painting a boy surrounded by metal mountains and shrapnel under a black, grey, brown and green sky. For whatever reason he was cowering in fear and wearing a shirt emblazoned with a red 14 and then around the boy was a bright white picket fence.

Ryan had gone for a very different image. Starting with a white canvas, he’d drawn blue numbers and words in a very robotic font travelling around the page like streams of data. In the centre of the canvas, there was a small raven flying inside a black circle that was deflecting all the data to other points on the canvas.

Ms Gill was walking around the classroom, giving her approval, disapproval and comments. She’d just gone past one of the other boys, pointing out whatever on his painting. She walked past Ryan’s painting and gasped.

“Ah!” she said, “marvellous, as per usual. I love the contrast between the centre and the surrounding. Wonderful!”

Ryan was pleased with himself, having always enjoyed a compliment, as one does. Ms Gill walked over to Lilith’s painting and crossed her arms.

“Hmm…” she moaned, Lilith stopped painting and look at the teacher through the corner of her eye, waiting for the inevitable criticism that came with Ms Gill’s visits to her station.

“Hmm…” she moaned again, making Lilith bite her cheek in immediate irritation.

“Hmm-”

“Problem?” Lilith asked impatiently.

“Yes,” Ms Gill finally decided, “this fence really seems to disagree with the rest of the painting.”

“What?” Lilith asked in disbelief, “you literally just told Ryan how much you loved his 'contrast in the centre'. How is this not practically the same thing?”

“Well, Ryan’s is light and the centre is black,” Ms Gill explained, moving back to Ryan’s area, where he stood slightly awkwardly thanks to being put on the spot “also, his is much smaller, it’s a concentrated contrast. In addition, the contrast continues from the centre and the ends in a circle. Whereas yours just seems to act as a box between the same dark, dirty colours.”

Ms Gill walked back over to Lilith’s station and pointed at several points on the canvas.

“If you make it slightly more consistent,” she suggested, “perhaps add a few more little picket boxes in the area, it might give it a better effect of…whatever you’re doing here.”

And with that, she walked away to talk to another student, leaving Lilith gripping a paintbrush so tightly in her fist that it threatened to leave splinters. She turned to Ryan with a displeased look.

“Favouritism,” she stated simply.

“She’s not favouring me,” Ryan said for umpteenth time that term “she just prefers my style.”

“You change styles daily,” Lilith argued, “what she prefers is you over me.”

“Is that so bad?” Ryan asked looking annoyed at Lilith's last comment, but she returned with her own look of distaste.

“Don’t try the ‘Angry Wife Bit’ with me, it’s not your colour,” Lilith said quickly, “and no, it’s not bad. I just wish she’d give me a little more credit when credit is due. I work harder than half this class put together and still she makes it seem like I’m just throwing pots of paint on a blank canvas and calling it my project.”

Ryan simply shook his head and chuckled.

After a few more minutes the bell rang, signalling the end of the first period. All the students put down their brushes and put each of their canvases in the storage room. With a final glare to the back of Ms Gill’s head, Lilith and Ryan left the room and separated to go to their different classes.

 

~\*/~

 

Ryan walked through the Quad until he had to turn to enter the Science Building; the Science Building had Physics Labs on the ground floor, Chemistry on the 1st and Biology in the Basement.

Ryan had to get to Chemistry before the next bell rang, but he had plenty of time. However, that didn’t stop him from jogging up the stairs.

‘God, I hate science,’ he groaned inside his own head, ‘can’t we just blindly follow religion? Christians do, they practically own the developed west.’

Ryan climbed the final steps and walked through the wooden doors. Ryan immediately turned right to find the lab. He rubbed his eyes due to the fatigue that haunted him last night; the concept of his biological father’s death weighed heavy on his mind and restricted sleep. Ryan opened his eyes again only to come face-to-face with another person, the only details Ryan could gather in the split second before impact was that it was a boy. The impact into both their foreheads caused both their arms to stop working, the sound of falling, opening and clattering books hitting the floor was barely heard over to inattentive mass of other students. Ryan rubbed his hand uselessly against the point of impact in the middle of his forehead, mumbling curses that were better left unheard. His eyes opened again, despite the throb beating just behind his skull, Ryan finally took notice of his books scattered across the floor in a muddle with other documents he didn’t recognise, but he didn’t pay them any attention; Ryan simply went to grab the nearest familiar books around him before accidentally picking up a notepad that he knew didn’t belong to him. For the first time, he looked up at the other figure that had gotten down on the ground to gather the fallen reserves of both work and…doodles, and Ryan recognised the mess of bright blond curls before him; the colour was very much akin to the wig he had so quickly lost on Halloween only last month, but it was still a twinge darker, as though the boy before him was indeed donning his missing wig, but had gotten it a bit dirty by actually wearing it. Connor Vincent looked back up quickly, taking notice of the outstretched hand holding his scribble covered Pukka Pad. Connor smiled and reached his hands for it, accidentally brushing his fingers along the side of Ryan’s. Ryan may not have noticed had it not been for the sudden surge that overcame him; his heart raced as if he had been running a marathon, his eyes went uncontrollably wide and his lungs seemed desperate for oxygen to the point of his mouth responding reflexively inhaling hugely. Ryan felt his eyes change, surge with power as his vision blurred, then darkened and then blinded him with light before becoming a clear, defined image.

{Ryan seemed to be looking at the front door of an unfamiliar house. Ryan knew he was having what was called a Premonition, a vision based form of Precognition, he’d had them before and once he remembered that he calmed down and watched, paying attention to what he was seeing, knowing that he only got Premonitions for things that were important for him to know, for one reason or another.

The house was beautiful and large, but in the dark of the cloudy night, it was more menacing than anything else. The house was infinitely massive with masses of painted white walls that was only broken by the large, human sized windows; two on either side of the dark, mahogany door, three above to mark the first floor, another set of three anothe rank above and two peered out of the very roof itself, showing a very grand attic to the house that made Ryan feel that his was so small, despite it seeming surprisingly large beforehand. The very presence of the front door seemed to dwarf Ryan by several feet, the gold plated 37 screwed tightly against the dark brown wood of the door was surely intended to seem pleasant, but Ryan felt the fear of the vision and knew that there could be nothing so pleasant behind that door. The door suddenly swung inward, revealing nothing but a greater dark, but having no control of the body within the Premonition meant Ryan was surging forward before he could remember how his legs worked. The house’s interior wasn’t any more inviting, even if it was a little bit warmer; Ryan had clearly entered a foyer with soft, bouncy carpet beneath his foot and gorgeous stone tiles imbedded into the wall that came to about 5’, only to be replaced with a lovely, creamy colour that reached the chandelier in the centre of the ceiling. Though the lights were off, the crystals dangling with said chandelier twinkled and reflected enough moonlight to illuminate the landings of two staircases leading upstairs and three corridors that lead to other parts of the ground floor; one to the right, one to the left and one between the two staircases. The vision took Ryan up the left staircase, which ended at another junction of corridors. Again Ryan went left and came to a dark hallway with three doors on the right and two on the left. Ryan felt himself drawn to the second door on the right and that’s where the vision led him. Without hesitation Ryan burst through the door and saw a form lying in a large bed on which an eerie, white glow was cast from the open window. The form began to move, clearly awoken by Ryan’s burst through the do, the figure threw off the covers as he turned and, though the midnight shadows shrouded the majority of the now active person in darkness, a small trace of glimmer crossed their eyes and Ryan recognised, but couldn’t quite place an identity to, a pair of bright green eyes, though slightly drained of colour by the moon remained clearly emerald. Then, throughout the house, there was the distinct midnight ringing of a Grandfather Clock from somewhere. The green eyes looked surprised, almost panicked, as though he’d never heard the sound before. Perhaps he hadn’t. The question only came to Ryan’s mind because with every deep ring from the clock came a dull yellow glow, throbbing in the middle of the room. Upon the third ring the glow seemed brighter than before and by the fifth and sixth, Ryan was sure it was progressively getting brighter, growing to some kind of important climax, but the vision wouldn’t allow him to move forward on his own. He remained in position until the twelfth ring, which seemed to linger just a few seconds longer in the air as it magnified the burst of light that would erupt from the centre of the room, when the light grew it almost blinded the one with green eyes. However, Ryan’s eyes were not affected, it was only whomever he was seeing the vision through that suffered, the light simply appeared as it existed. When the lights faded again, Ryan saw a man dressed all in black, Just like Calumn was the thought that went through Ryan’s mind, but before he could voice it, even to himself, the man raised his hand and a ball of flames materialised in his palm. The man bounced the ball in his hands as though it were meant to bounce as opposed to burn. There was a wicked smile across his face before he hurtled the fireball straight into bed, but still Ryan didn’t move, but it didn’t much matter as he felt the vision ending. The sensation was one of being dragged away from something, the sight before him froze with the fireball hanging just over the bed then it began to minimise against the darkness of subconscious, where one cannot see, but they know where they are and Ryan knew he was returning to the hallway outside of Chemistry.}

Ryan blinked quietly when he returned to reality. Instinctively, Ryan brought up his left wrist and looked at his watch. It was exactly the same time it was when he fell into the Premonition. Eventually, Ryan tried to gather himself, but then he noticed that Connor, who still hadn’t moved along with the rest of the world, was still touching his finger in an attempt to retrieve his notebook. Ryan looked at the finger incredulously, thinking that his Premonitions were always activated by a stimulus. Was it possible that this boy, who had always maintained an air of total normality, was in fact a target for dark magic? Then, Ryan remembered what the vision had shown him. A boy with green eyes. Connor’s a boy. That’s one. Now, green eyes? Ryan angled his head slightly to check, if he had green eyes, Ryan would be certain that Connor was his man. Well, his guy…for…helping- Oh, you know. However, just as Ryan was about to get right underneath Connor’s head, Connor began to twitch, which meant that time was about to resume as normal and Ryan had to scurry to get back into position, with his hand placed slightly under Connor’s returning his notebook.

Eventually, Connor did move again, but only just as Ryan got back into place.

“Thanks,” Ryan heard, Ryan kept looking straight at him, trying to catch a glimpse of green, but Connor refused to look up.

“You. Are. Welcome.” Ryan dragged out every word in the sentence attempting to get a look into Connor’s eyes, but for whatever reason Connor was avoiding his direct gaze.

“Uhh,” Connor murmured before looking at Ryan out of the corner of his eyes, “your eyes are kinda weird.”

Ryan looked confused at this comment, especially since Ryan was meant to be the one who was looking into his eyes. Ryan took out his slim, stone grey flip phone from his pocket and looked at the reflective black screen on top that seemed to always be able to reflect. Ryan angled it so that he could see his own eyes and they widened to what they saw. Ryan’s eyes had inverted their colours, turning to a sort of negative effect. Ryan wasn’t surprised by the fact that his eyes were weird; this happened whenever he had a Premonition or used any of his powers. He remembered how he looked into the mirror the night Calumn attacked and his eyes were the exact same way. What confused him both then and now was that they hadn’t changed back. In 2001, he began being able to use his eyes to see a multitude of things; he could see people’s mood, he could use X-ray vision like Superman and once he used it see ghosts, but it freaked him out too much to do it again. However, the first time he used his powers those 2 years ago, his eyes changed permanently and he was constantly using the Divine Sight, this went on to the point that he not only slept in sunglasses, but had to buy contact lenses that gave him white sclera and brown irises for a whole year until the middle of 2002 when he finally managed to turn it off by a two hour long session of focusing on his eyes turning back to normal. After that, it had become progressively easier to turn his power on and off to the point that his powers would instinctively return to normal after each use, provided he didn’t use his powers for too long at any one time. However, since the incident with Calumn, said instinct appeared to be waning, which was never a good sign. With a silent gasp of panic, Ryan slammed his eyes shut and forced them to turn back to normal. After a second, he opened his eyes again and looked down at his makeshift mirror and saw that his eyes were normal again. He mumbled a small thanks for the sake of Connor’s pointing out his serious flaw in secrecy. Then, Ryan noticed that Connor was about to look at him again, probably to check Ryan’s eyes. This was Ryan’s chance for clarification. Ryan looked at the boy still gathering his last book and saw that his eyes were…brown. So, Connor wasn’t the one from his Premonition after all. Ryan, still thinking of who it might be, gathered his books and walked into the classroom.

 

~\*/~

 

Connor walked out of the school buildings with a clean, white and red striped jumper in place of the blazer that he’d left his locker. He was walking out into the parking lot; his parents’ driver said he’d be a few minutes late today for some reason. So, Connor just rested his back against a tree close to where his driver normally picked him up. Connor thought back to his Chemistry lesson, when Ryan’s eyes changed. He remembered exactly what he felt; he was surprised, but there seemed to be a lack of actual surprise in his mind, it wasn’t that he knew what would happen, just that it seemed…familiar? Like he’d seen it happen before? He couldn’t quite place the memory, but it had definitely piqued his curiosity. Obviously, he’d met Ryan before and they’d spoken a couple times, but there was nothing even remotely substantial, they’d never even said hi to each other two days in a row. Although, there was that was week in Year 9 when he thought he saw Ryan a bit more often then usual, but Connor just blew it off until he didn’t notice anymore.

‘He was always kinda funny…’ Connor chuckled to himself having been reminded about a joke he’d once told him. Connor always had a small trace of regret for not getting closer to Ryan when they were younger, he was more fun than anyone else, but things happened and he just ended up with the ‘Popular Crowd’, which he hated, but it certainly made life easier as far as school went.

Connor was snapped out of his thoughts by the call of his name and the high-pitched tee-hees of girls approaching. He looked around until he spotted two of them approaching and one waving.

“Hi Con,” one of them smiled. Connor returned the greeting, but for the sake of his own life he could not remember her name. “So, you gonna show up to Marco’s party this weekend? With no girlfriend, I’m sure you’ll have no trouble with finding someone to have fun with.”

Connor noticed that both girls were doing something that he guessed was intended to make them subtly more attractive; neither of them would break eye contact and they seemed to be swaying slightly with one biting their bottom lip.

“Totally,” Connor answered with half the sincerity he thought he could give and yet twice the amount he’d intended to give. “I love these parties. I can’t get enough.

The girls continued to talk about something, probably relevant to the party, but all Connor could think about was how much more sarcastic that last comment should’ve sounded and yet this girl, whose name still eluded him, seemed totally unaware of it. Of course, at this point Connor was now regretting not paying attention because the girls seemed to be waiting for him to say something. Connor opened his mouth to reply to a statement that he hadn’t heard, but then he did hear something.

“Oh my God! Walk slower!” the massive sarcasm was instantly recognisable from across the road as it was from the very person who he’d just been thinking of. “Do you want me to carry you? Because I will! I will carry you and the big chunk of paint you call art!”

“Oh shut up!” came the half-joking voice of whomever Ryan was talking to. Connor had to give it a moment’s thought, but he quickly remembered Lilith. She was always with Ryan and pretty protective of him, she didn’t seem to like anyone who talked to Ryan and would always give them the third degree. If there were a description of her, it would include ‘Worse than your girlfriend’s dad when it comes to being possessive’. Not that that was how Connor thought of Ryan, but it just seemed like an accurate review. Then Connor felt a nudging at his arm and he turned to see that What’s-her-name was still waiting for an answer with an expectant smile on her face along with badly applied eyeliner. Gladly, Connor only made it passed um when the black Mercedes of his driver parked alongside the pavement where he stood. He smiled down and nodded to the driver. Connor said goodbye to the girls he was talking to and took his rightful place in the back of the dark, sleek vehicle. The car immediately took off again.

“Master Connor,” the name Connor’s parents insisted they call their child “who were those lovely ladies you were conversing with?”

“I honestly have no idea,” Connor muttered his reply “how are you, Stan?”

6: Easy

It Was Never Gonna Be That Easy

 

7-8/11/03

 

It was 11:50 by the time Ryan had climbed over the 15’ hedge and jogged the 200-yard drive up to the front door. Ryan was heavily panting after the run. It was only know he was realising that he might be thin, but he had the physical fitness of Jabba the Hutt. He was doubled over contemplating why he’d always avoided exercise if it could make this moment any easier. After a moment, Ryan returned to an upright position and looked down at his watch, it read 11:52 now. If he were to get to the boy’s bedroom by midnight, he’d have to make his move fairly quickly; thankfully, Ryan had prepared himself with the knowledge from the Premonition. Ryan had chosen to wear his cargo jeans with all the extra pockets and each pocket had everything he needed: cell phone, keys, the lock picking kit that he’d saved up for throughout the summer of 1998, the vanquishing spell that he’d used on Calumn and, if in doubt, a potion that he made from a recipe in the Book of Bones that was said to vanquish a ‘Fire Demon’, although the picture was very different to what he’d seen in his Premonition, it seemed obvious that a Demon, as they were apparently called, that could create fireballs would be classed as a Fire Demon and finally another potion that had become a powder that the Book had called ‘5 Minutes Forgotten’, as the name suggests, it will remove the last five minutes of a Mortal’s memory. And, whilst they were blinded by the stuff, Ryan would make his surreptitious escape. Ryan readied himself to start his mission and at 11:53 he took out the first thing he’d need.

Ryan reached into the pocket that bumped his left knee and took out the lock picking kit. He flipped open all five of the available shapes and crouched down to inspect the door he was dealing with: Banham – L2000 Rim Deadbolt. Ryan smirked; this was the exact same lock that was on his own front door, the first lock he ever learnt how to pick open from the outside, just this sign made Ryan think that everything was going to go perfectly.

But that would be just too easy…

Ryan switched the lock with unsurprising ease, you know what they say: Practice Makes Perfect. However, Ryan reminded himself he wasn’t done yet. The door had cracked open slightly when he unlocked it, so he carefully made his way into the darkness of the foyer. His Premonition was very accurate, the sliver of a gap in the clouds outside had allowed the perfect amount of moonlight to cast an enigmatic, white shimmer through the glass chips that formed the grand chandelier that hung suspended from the ceiling. Ryan ignored the rest of the house though and focused in on the left-hand staircase. He jogged towards it and climbed quickly, thankfully the stairs here weren’t nearly as creaky as the ones at home, the padding of the carpet muffled most of the sound and the strong structure handled the matter of creaking very well. It only took Ryan a few seconds to reach the top and come to the fork in the road, as it were. Of course, Ryan remembered that his destination was to the left and headed that way, coming to the same hallway he’d seen before; three doors on the right and two on the left. It was mere curiosity that made Ryan linger where he was, he knew exactly where he needed to go, but something made him stop and check the other rooms. Of course, it would be crazy to actually go into those rooms, but Ryan had just what he needed. He closed his eyes for just a moment before opening them again. As planned, the colours were inverted to resemble a monotone target between Ryan’s eyelids.

Starting on the left, Ryan saw a sizeable laundry room; there was a white, modern washing machine, complete with the iconic clear, circular door slightly ajar. Next to it was a drying machine, they both looked fairly similar, but the perfect eyes of the Divine Sight gave Ryan the necessary power to see the small prints that defined the different functions of each machine. In the room, there was also an iron and board and an empty plastic linen basket.

The next room was a large bathroom, complete with charcoal-coloured tiles and clean white walls. The sink and bathtub seemed to be made of porcelain and appeared very smooth in both texture and shape, as they both seemed to have been curved very gently during manufacturing. There was an actual separate shower, still cloudy with traces of a recent shower, which lightly surprised Ryan since his bathroom had a bath with a showerhead in it, but he simply brushed it off considering just how much money these people clearly had. The faucets of all three bathroom pieces were clean and showed to be a very shiny metal in the traces of refracted and reflected moonshine that made its way into the bathroom, despite it being on the wrong side of the house.

Ryan turned his head to the right of the corridor and looked into the first of the three rooms; inside was a mess. Strewn all across the floor there were pieces of paper, both blank and filled with splodges of ink, neat cursive handwriting and ting doodles, there were packets where food had one resided, pens and pencils and a grand disarray of other supplies and materials. The large wardrobe was wide open with only a few articles on hangers, the rest was a multi-coloured mass spilling out from the wardrobe’s floor out onto the floor. This being a bedroom, the obvious item would be an actual bed; the grand white four-poster bed had a pink version of the exact drapes that Ryan had wanted for his room, but his Dad said no because:

 

1. It’s a Fire Hazard.
2. He doesn’t have the right bed.
3.  It’s ridiculously superfluous.

 

Ryan wasn’t happy about it, but he got over it fairly quickly. It was hardly life or death.

DONG!!

Ryan snapped his head upwards and his eyes flew wide. He’d spent too long looking through the rooms! The Demon was arriving now and Ryan only had eleven seconds to move and, at last, he wasn’t wasting his time. Without deactivating his eyes, he surged forward to his destination, but the corridor was longer than he realised and, by the time he got to the door, the Grandfather Clock had reached its sixth ring. It took him until the seventh ring to turn the knob and it was upon the eight that he finally landed in the large, comfy looking bedroom. Ryan didn’t notice, but he must have caused quite a bit of noise because the boy rose from the large, double bed a lot quicker than in Ryan’s Premonition.

“If you want to live, you have to get out of the bed!”

In hindsight, that was not the best choice of words for a stranger who had suddenly burst into the room at almost precisely midnight to say. However, Ryan wasn’t thinking about how the boy would receive that and just hoped he would do as said. Then, Ryan stopped. His eyes’ power permitted him to look through the darkness as if it was perfectly lit and the identity could finally be confirmed of the boy with green eyes.

It was Connor!

Ryan was struck by disbelief and it showed in his face. However, his vision hadn’t been wrong; Connor’s eyes were indeed green now, despite Ryan having specifically checked that they were brown mere hours ago. Ryan would’ve asked about it, if it hadn’t been for the twelfth ring of the Grandfather Clock, when the light grew to bright to ignore, even by Ryan’s standards. Connor winced against the harsh light that appeared as yellow as a homeless man’s teeth, but Ryan’s eyes held strong against the light and he was already scrambling to find the Vanquishing spell in his pocket, even though his eyes were transfixed on the emerging enemy. The light dimmed and faded away and the black-clad man appeared just as Ryan had predicted, only now, Ryan could see him in all his detail. He looked perfectly human; a five o’clock shadow across his chin and heavy, spiked black hair and eyes of the same hue. The demon moved his head up and observed his new surroundings, Connor sitting up in bed did not faze him, but he hissed at Ryan when his eyes moved over to him holding the hand written Blue Vanquish.

“Witch!” the Demon hissed in a dark, Middle Eastern accent and raised his hand. The Premonition had been wrong or the events had changed because now the Demon was aiming at Ryan. Ryan had to remember himself before as the Demon bounced the fireball in his hand, seemingly out of habit as opposed to any kind of necessity.

“By the Power invested-!” but, Ryan didn’t finish. The Demon shot his fireball straight at Ryan, but he managed to push the paper he’d written the spell on in the way; the paper was consumed and singed Ryan’s fingertips, eliciting a yelp from him before he watched the spell burn out and into ashes before it even touched the floor. Ryan looked from the floor to the Demon with wide eyes.

“You think you can vanquish me, Witch?” The Demon was beginning to close in on him and Ryan was about to panic when he remembered the Potion. He quickly reached into his other pocket and drew his re-used water bottle, filled to the brim with a pale orange liquid swilling around as Ryan twisted the cap off. Ryan tossed the bottle out of his hand and he watched the liquid pour quickly out of the plastic bottle and he watched as it splashed all over the Demon’s black shirt and coat. A smile crossed Ryan’s face as the idea of victory settled in, doubled by the expression of shock, fear and anger that the Demon was wearing as his clothes soaked up the liquid and it touched his skin. Ryan honestly didn’t know what to expect, he’d only managed to glimpse at the final disappearance of Calumn and that had resembled the vanishing end of a black ribbon, what Ryan certainly didn’t expect was what happened next.

Nothing.

The Demon eventually stopped looking so afraid and it was clear that the potion wasn’t working. Everyone in the room was looking to the Demon in anticipation of some kind of cataclysmic event that would end his existence, but there was nothing.

The Demon raised his head to connect his eyes with Ryan’s and he smiled a smile so cold that it almost urged Ryan’s teeth to chatter, he may have hissed or laughed, but it was done so quietly and suddenly that Ryan jumped at the tiny, but growing sound that roused from the Demon’s lightly convulsing throat until it was a dark chuckle that had Ryan almost running out the door, or it would have if he’d remembered he could use his legs, but as it was he simply remained where he was looking horrified, showing the blacks of his eyes. The Demon’s pearl-white teeth seemed to shine against the deep dark of his attire as he spoke.

“It looks like you’re not the Witch you thought you were,” he smiled.

“On the contrary,” Ryan replied, “this is exactly how I imagined my being a Witch would turning out.”

The Demon laughed again as he raised his arm up to his face, Ryan flinched and the Demon’s smile just widened with glee. With a careful flick of the tongue that was quick enough not to be true, the Demon tasted the potion that lay drying on his arm. He made a sound of confusion, frowned and then looked at Ryan before frowning even wider than before.

“I taste ginger,” he announced, “you made a potion for a simple Fire Demon and expected it to work on me?”

Ryan bit his lip out of nerves before replying a very tentative affirmative. The Demon had no reason to stop laughing apparently.

“You insult me, Witch! I am no Fire Demon, in fact, I’ve killed plenty of them! I am an Ifrit Demon, not that it matters to a dead Witch!”

By this point Ryan was undoubtedly and irrefutably terrified; he couldn’t remember his own family spell, the potion was flat-out wrong and, because of him, he was about to die and Connor was about to die, so quickly after he’d discovered his heritage. But Ryan stopped. He steeled his nerves and he looked the Demon dead in the eye; what was the point in being a Good Witch if you don’t kick some Evil ass whilst you do it! Inside of Ryan’s mind, there was a plan forming and it was good. What he had left in his pockets were his mobile, his keys and his lock picking equipment.

Ryan stared at his opponent, he focused his eyes and began looking for something very specific within the Demon’s physical body; the weak spot. Looking at the Demon’s muscles, Ryan could see that they were all tense and there was an endless amount scar tissue, some of it looked fairly recent and was still healing whilst some were clearly older, healed over, but not healed itself. The scars very frequently crossed over, showing numerable X’s scattered across his form, but Ryan was looking for more and when he found it, he knew he needed to move quickly. Just to the side of the Ifrit’s abdominal muscles, on a muscle called the External Oblique, was a point where four scars overlapped, almost perfectly resembling a compass that pointed to the 4 main directions and the four in the in-betweens. Ryan reached into his pocket and, when he found something cold and metal, he wrapped his hand around it and moved it into the necessary positions to maximise the efficiency of what he was about to do. With their eyes firmly locked on each other, Ryan made the first move and charged.

He ran straight for the Ifrit, which initially caught him off guard. Exactly the reaction Ryan was hoping for; Ryan stampeded forward about two large paces, by which point the Ifrit Demon had brought himself back and was leaning forward to grab Ryan, but Ryan drew out what he had clutched in his pocket; the Lock Picking Kit. He had drawn out the longest pick and, with a fortified grip, Ryan rammed the point into the Demon’s outstretching hand. The Demon yelped in surprise at the sudden stab of pain that had been injected into his hand. Ryan then ripped the point back out and drew out a sizeable spill of dark orange blood, but he forced himself not to notice it as he tucked and rolled to past the Demon’s right leg, which seemed to crumple slightly from the pain he’d suddenly been exposed to. Ryan swirled around as he landed behind the Demon, his pick still dripping and ready. With his eyes focused on the compass like scar hidden under the Demon’s skin, Ryan again tore through the Ifrit’s dark flesh and stabbed straight through the cross-section of those four scars. The Demon howled in pain and Ryan saw the bright orange, viscous liquid that was his blood pour from the point where Ryan had stabbed him out of the corner of his eye. Ryan rose to go over to Connor, to put up some kind of defence between him and the Ifrit, but he felt a weight push down on his shoulders, he saw the Ifrit hovering over him with teeth gleaming as they grinded against each other in repressed, pain-induced fury. The weight was released on Ryan’s left shoulder, but he saw it was just so the Ifrit could hold a new fireball to Ryan’s heaving chest, singing the top fabric of his shirt as it hovered.

“Time to die, Witch!” the Ifrit barked.

Ryan was prepared for death, but then he saw an opportunity and knew he had to seize it.

“Not tonight, Demon!” Ryan pushed himself forward, allowing the fireball to burn a hole through his shirt and singe his pale skin, but Ryan quickly swivelled where he laid and managed to bring up his knee and shove his cap into the Demon’s abdomen, straight onto the end of the exposed pick, consequentially shoving it deeper inside of the Ifrit, causing him to bellow another roar of pain into the air. Ryan quickly pushed himself up and flung himself to Connor’s side and from there he stood proud over the crouching form of the wounded Ifrit. Ryan raised his hands and pointed his flat palms towards the Demon and recited the words he’d finally managed to remember.

 

“By the Powers invested in me by the Darkest Light,

 

From below the Ifrit’s hunched over form, four black and blue tendrils began to seep up and tied themselves around the Ifrit’s wrists and ankles, they pinned him down even as he struggled against both them and the pain from before.

 

I curse the one who causes my Plight!

 

More tendrils appeared, not just from the floor, but from the ceiling as well, all of them now wrapping around the Demon’s whole body; whole limbs were already disappearing into incorporeal, shadowy vines.

 

From Time until Time and Place to Place,

 

The vines were now raising him up form the ground as opposed to pinning him down. He was hovering in the centre of the room like he was hanging on an invisible Demonic crucifix. The vines were no longer wrapped tightly around his body, they were wrapping around each other and none of him could be seen, as if he were a crudely wrapped package that needed to be shipped immediately.

 

Be gone from Reality without a trace!”

 

Then, without any other warning, the black, spectral tentacles bursts outwards, as if the Ifrit had simply exploded, but without any kind of explosion. The tendrils then separated and returned into the floor and ceiling and walls like ghosts and simply melded back into the house. And it quickly seemed as if they’d never arisen at all.

 

Connor was just as surprised as Ryan was by what had just transpired, which was, going by expressions, a huge amount. However, Connor’s recovery was largely exaggerated from Ryan, who seemed to have come back to himself fairly quickly. Ryan turned to face Connor and waved his hand to garner the blonde’s attention. Connor slowly turned his head to Ryan; his expression was clearly shock with his wide set eyes that were dry from lack of blinking and his jaw might’ve fallen straight through the floor had Earth’s gravity been any stronger. Ryan carefully used his finger to put Connor’s mouth back into place and he smiled.

“Wouldn’t want you to wake up with a bad taste in your mouth,” he joked nervously before pulling out a thin, white plastic bag from his pocket. Ryan untied it gently and plucked some into his hand. “It’s been about ten minutes, so I’ll give you a double dose.” The powder was on his flat palm now and his mouth had formed a small circle as he blew through the sparkly lilac powder that was now flying into Connor’s face. Connor probably would’ve been thankful that Ryan had closed his mouth beforehand because his skin tingled everywhere the glitter had landed. Connor finally blinked for the first time since he’d been awoken. The blink was a break for Connor to process everything that he needed to ask Ryan when his eyes opened again. Only a second could have passed during the time it took Connor to blink, so you can imagine the surprise when he discovered that the Sun was now shining. It could never have been 1 a.m. when Connor closed his eyes, with Ryan standing over him looking apologetic and pitiful with the sense of darkness hanging against the silvery moonlight, but there was no denying that Connor was now staring straight out into his empty bedroom with the 7 a.m. sunshine bursting throughout his bedroom, benevolently welcoming Connor to a brand new day. A new day that Connor would never be sure if he regretted waking up to or not.

7: Lovely

He’s a Lovely Boy

 

8/11/03

 

A clear sky on a Sunday morning with birds chirping and a grass so green no other side could be better, Connor was dragging his feet across the dirty white line that divided the two sides of the empty road, contemplating everything he saw the night before; the Grandfather Clock that he’d never owned and confirmed was not in his house, Ryan bursting into his bedroom and calling on some kind of- black…or blue…thing! That man who’d simply appeared in his room and had thrown fire around. And Connor had felt himself freeze in place from start to finish, but again, he wasn’t as surprised as he knew he should be. It was like when Connor saw Ryan’s eyes, they were had a negative effect on them, he consciously knew he should be at least surprised, but there was no emotion of shock inside of him. In fact, the only physical evidence that last night had ever happened was the small, dry puddle of orange fluid that had been absorbed into the carpet, but Connor only barley noticed that since it looked like somebody had already tried to get it out. Connor could only assume it was Ryan and this was the only way he knew how to find out what had really happened. Connor had spent the first half an hour in his pyjamas, going through a hoard of old files from Connor’s nursery, primary and secondary schools in order to find one specific piece of paper that he’d vaguely remembered held the home phone numbers of all the parents from his second year class. He eventually did find it and confirmed that Ryan was in his class and prayed he wasn’t about to call an out-dated phone number. After four rings there was dark, groggy voice at the end of the phone, Connor naturally lied about having arranged meeting Ryan and losing both his address and his phone number. So, after a few minutes of mistakenly thinking that Connor was talking to Ryan’s father, Celia put down the phone and went off to tell Ryan who was coming over, or going back to bed, Connor couldn’t be sure.

Upon arrival, Connor checked the piece of paper he’d written the address down on:  13 Sorchester Street. He looked at the front door and saw the number brass 13 hammered into the door and sighed a weary breath in a hopeless attempt at preparing himself for a number of improbably realistic questions that he’d both rather not ask and couldn’t bear not to get the answer to. He walked past a full bush that acted as the houses border from the street. The house itself was seemed like fairly normal semi-detached house, if slightly larger than average; from the outside there was clearly two levels and an attic, the ground floor had one doubly large window that would’ve shown the living room had the curtains not been drawn, the brickwork was painted a yellowing white that was beginning to chip ever-so-slightly and there was a kind of roughness to the work that Connor wasn’t accustomed to. The first floor windows were similar to the ground floor, but smaller with the curtains open showing a bedroom and a bathroom. The house didn’t seem as large from where Connor was standing, but there were extensions behind that made the house much larger. Connor blew a huff of air out the corner of his mouth and walked over to the front door and, without wasting any time thinking about it, jabbed the doorbell with his index finger. A blue LED button lit up behind the translucent button and a cheerful little ring rang. Connor stood where he was in front of the door, feeling somewhat awkward as he waited for someone he didn’t know to answer a door he’d never visited. The sound of feet rumbling down the stairs could be heard behind the wooden door and there was a blunt, metal sound of bolt being unlocked and the doorknob turning. The door was held open wide to Ryan’s wildly spiking black hair that half covered his left eye and half tried to touch the ceiling. As Ryan opened the door his right eye clearly sprang wide in surprise at Connor’s presence.

“Connor!” Ryan gasped, a sound that was noticeably more shocked than someone who hadn’t broken into the other person’s house the night before. Ryan wanted to open his mouth to say something else when Connor stopped and asked if he could come in. Ryan, not wanting to rouse any suspicion, let Connor in just as Ryan’s mother came in from another room.

“Oh yes, Ryan,” she began, not looking up “someone called. Some boy named Connor’s coming over toda- Oh, he’s here.”

Connor smiled at the woman he’d spoken to on the phone, they exchanged pleasantries, but Ryan quickly had Connor come up to his room and closed the door tightly behind him. Ryan looked guilty and Connor’s face switched to serious.

“I’m here about last night,” Connor began.

“You make me sound like a one night stand,” Ryan commented, his sarcasm was never hidden for long.

“I wish it was that simple,” Connor continued, “It would certainly make the stain on my floor come out quicker.”

Ryan’s face turned to stone, his dark eyes narrowed as he stared into Connor’s, which had now turned blue.

“I want to talk to you about what happened in my room and about what happened with your eyes outside of Chemistry.”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Ryan retorted, Connor narrowed his eyes questioningly “your eyes change constantly; outside the lesson they were brown, last night they were green and today they’re bright blue. Maybe you can explain that?”

“My eyes have always done that, they change with the light, and it’s not that rare.”

“It is when the change is so drastic to go from one bright colour to another to a dark colour.”

Connor turned away from Ryan, as if he was attempting to hide his eyes, but he didn’t stop arguing.

“That’s nothing compared to you! If you want to talk about a constant colour change, you can make your eyes swap colours or something! Now that’s something worth mentioning.”

“You want an explanation?” Ryan tempted, pushing his tongue into his cheek “you’ll have to turn around if you want it.”

Connor tensed slightly at the condition, not sure if he wanted to see what would be revealed if he complied. However, there was nothing that seemed to shock him anymore, so he decided to risk it. Slowly and with caution, Connor turned and looked Ryan dead in his normally coloured eyes. Connor eased and turned back to face him properly. He waited for a moment before attempting to ask Ryan for his explanation, but it came quick enough.

“I think you looked better with green eyes,” Ryan blurted.

Or not.

“W-what?!” Connor took a step back in surprise. Turns out he could be shocked.

“I said,” Ryan took a confident step closer “I think you look better with green eyes.”

Connor was worried about what was happening all of a sudden, it came to the point that he barely noticed a tiny kind of relaxing in the back of his eyes. He suddenly felt cold hands upon his smooth chin and he was being drawn closer to Ryan. Their faces were in a very close proximity and Connor was too confused to fight it, but Ryan seemed to intently focused on Connor’s face to give a damn.

“So, it does work,” Ryan finally stated.

Another confusing statement shook Connor, who had to remind himself that he came here for answers not more questions, which was all he seemed to be getting from this excursion. However, Ryan didn’t seem bothered when he pointed off to a door in his wall.

“There’s a bathroom. Look in the mirror,” Ryan ordered. Connor was going to reject him, but the image of Ryan making that other man disappear popped into his head and decided it was better to obey. Connor walked solemnly over to the door, opened it and walked through and entered the small, white tiled bathroom. There was a wide mirror placed above a white, porcelain sink and Connor turned to look in the mirror. Everything seemed to be in order as far as he was concerned; styled blonde hair, flawless slightly tanned skin, perfectly green eyes and white teeth. And then it hit him!

Green Eyes.

Ryan had literally just said that they were blue, but now they’d changed. However, Connor didn’t want to be thrown, he even held his own when Ryan walked into the bathroom and stood behind him.

“Look into the mirror,” Ryan said toughly. Connor again looked into the mirror, both of them looking at Connor’s eyes. “Actually, you’re most attractive with brown eyes.”

Then, as if triggered by the very words, a thin mist veiled Connor’s iris; a tiny waft of brown smoke clouded over the green, like the tea leaking into the hot water and dying it a dark, endless brown.

Connor’s now brown eyes widened in more surprise, but Ryan seemed unimpressed with a clearly forced straight face. So, when Ryan left the bathroom, Connor felt a natural inkling to follow, which he did. Ryan walked back into the room and out of his door, turning back only to make sure Connor was still following.

Ryan strode down the hallway, back past the staircase and into a narrow, custard coloured hallway that only allowed for the first uncarpeted part of the house. The varnished wood led up to a simple wooden door with a dented, bronze doorknob with a small circle imbedded in the centre. Ryan walked straight up the creaking stairs and Connor felt obliged to follow until Ryan brusquely stopped. Ryan stepped to the side and told Connor to open the door. Connor was surprised, but he observed Ryan’s unfamiliarly terse command and placed his hand on the doorknob. Connor immediately recoiled with a yelp at a burning sensation shooting from his palm through to his fingertips, even to the nerveless fingernails. The pain died fairly quickly, but the shock made it linger a moment longer, after waving his hand around for a few moments, Connor looked down at his hand to see if it looked as burnt as it felt. The palm of his hand was entirely hot pink with a perfectly circular stream of white right in the centre, where he’d touched the circle on the doorknob; however, as he looked at the burns on his hand it began to heal. The bright pink that once covered his hand, until an abrupt break off at the wrist, had began to fade until it became the calm, crinkled pale that he was accustomed to, except for the circle in the centre. The circle itself had not healed completely, but it now looked more like a slight discolour of the skin as opposed to a mild second-degree burn, when the skin turns white and puffs up to look like it’s full of air. Connor turned his head up to Ryan to ask, but was silenced when Ryan raised his own right hand to show an identical mark in the centre of his palm.

“It’s for all of us,” Ryan smiled gently; the first smile Connor recognised of the person he’d regretted not acquainting himself with before. “Try it again.”

Connor hesitated slightly, but Ryan smiled very gently and urged him towards it. Connor, after two minutes of mild encouragement, reached his hand out and struck his hand out to tap the bronze metal as fast he could before tearing his hand back again. He heard the other boy chuckle, his unruly black hair bouncing on top of his head like a spasming black squid. Ryan eventually took hold of Connor’s wrist and physically guided him to hold the shiny metal once again and forced him to admit that there was no burning sensation and there wouldn’t be ever again. Connor relaxed and turned the knob at Ryan’s request and they walked into the attic.

Against the light of day, the attic was a lot bigger than anyone from the outside would expect from the outside; there was were a huge manner of things inside: there were books, both new, old and worn to the brink of destruction, lining the entire attic from wall to wall; the books were on everything, war and romance novels, self help books to baby books, dictionaries, thesauruses and language dictionaries. There were old suitcases with cobwebs on the inside as well as the outside and busted wheels. There was an old filing cabinet half opened with deteriorating papers stuffed inside, but falling out. There were portraits of old family members, mainly women, but a few men (presumably husbands for the older women and either fathers, uncles or brothers respectively) and polaroids that were clearly much younger, dating back only a few decades. There were large pieces of furniture that seemed to have been fairly well preserved; a brown suede couch and a red leather armchair that, without doubt, would dwarf anyone who sat in it, but looked confortable enough to take the reduction. Then, in the very centre of the room was a podium, on which was the largest book in the room and clearly the oldest. It was thicker than the Bible Connor had read before converting to Atheism and seemed even more ancient than that. It was opened to a page near the beginning, but it had clearly been read many hundreds of times before. The pages were thin pieces of creased yellow parchment that were so thin you could see your hand holding a page and the ink used was older than any ink from this or the past century. Connor immediately felt drawn to the book that was easily bigger than a computer, as if a magnetic force had been implemented suddenly. The rest of the room suddenly seemed a lot less interesting as the Book absorbed his full attention; even Ryan became little more than a scarce memory as Connor approached the podium. When Connor reached his destination he was surprised by what he saw, for the book did not contain a story, it looked like a description on…Witches? Instinctively, Connor began to read the passage:

Witches are beings, typically but not always women, who possess the power to use Magic. Their powers come from channelling their Astral Presence into the Global Nexus and drawing power from there. With this power, they can affect the Universe by the use of Spells or their individual talents; such is the power to Move without touching or gaining sights into the Future or Past-

“You’re in there, y’know,” Ryan stated suddenly, but Connor didn’t seem to react at all, he was too entranced by the Book.

“Where?” he asked distractedly before actually looking up at Ryan “what is this?”

“This,” Ryan moved to Connor’s side “is my family’s Book of Bones. It’s like their Manual for the jobs they do- did- do.”

“Manual? For what?” Connor chuckled pointing to the page he was reading “Being Witches?”

Ryan simply turned his head to look Connor in the eye, but after a minute Connor’s smile dropped as he realised what Ryan meant.

“You’re crazy,” Connor sounded alert and fearful, adrenaline pumping suddenly “I’m leaving!”

Connor reluctantly left the Book and even as he walked towards the door he felt colder, as if the Book had given him some kind of comforting warmth, but he shook of the sensation in order to prove his point. Connor didn’t notice Ryan close the door, but Connor was soon reaching for the knob. The cold metal was about to send a small shiver of panic down Connor’s arm, bodily memory of the first encounter with this particular doorknob, when the entire thing suddenly felt like flat wood. Connor looked from where the doorknob should be to the wall that had seemingly consumed the entire door itself. Connor pressed his hands against the flat wood of the attic wall in blind panic, as if the door was still there, it was just hiding from him. Connor quickly span around to Ryan was simply standing there with mock concern on his face, clearly he knew exactly what was going on, but Ryan was honest enough not to pretend when he spoke.

“I need you to stay here,” Ryan explained, “so we can find out exactly what you are."

“What I am?” Connor repeated with an insulted look, as if Ryan had outright said that he was some kind of, now why did the word Demon come to mind? “Isn’t it clear that I’m human?”

“Not necessarily,” Ryan said as he flicked through the Book “theoretically, you could be anything. A harboured Mermaid, sorry Merman, a Werewolf- you don’t experience nocturnal memory loss or excessive hair growth, do you? No, I didn’t think so.”

Ryan continued to casually flip through the Book, but all Connor could do was stare at him in shock, continuing to feel the flat wood behind his back, as if searching for the illusive door handle that would just magically return. But why not? It had magically disappeared. Connor’s attention was drawn to a sound of an irritated, throaty sound coming from Ryan. He saw Ryan take a step back and look up to the ceiling, then back down to the Book.

“Ok,” he said to the room, “I’ve got a boy with eyes that change colours according to what people think is most attractive. Help me out?”

There was no answer for a second or two, but just as Connor was about to call Ryan crazy again, there was a sound. Connor’s eyes flicked to the Book as one of the pages seemed to have moved, but Connor soon convinced himself that it wasn’t the Book. After the second, third and fourth page, such a lie had become a lot harder to apply. Then, without any other warning, the pages simply exploded into their own life! There seemed to be more pages moving than there were in the Book itself, like more than half a conveyor belt had been hidden in the podium and that’s exactly Connor told himself before Ryan picked the covers of the books up in his arms with the pages still moving wildly going further to the end of the Book, if it even had an end that was. However, what was most frightening was not the Book turning like an eternal pinwheel or the door that disappeared at will, but the fact that Ryan was absolutely unfazed by everything that was happening, like he’d been raised by the books that didn’t stop turning and Witches and Werewolves being common knowledge instead of common fairy tales. Then, as Ryan set his two feet about 30cm away from Connor’s, which he’d inadvertently pressed up against the door, the pages stopped dead and fell into place. Ryan let out a sound of approval and nodded his head with a facial expression as if he should have known the page himself. Ryan then turned the Book around, which was not easy considering the length and width of the thing, to show Connor the entry on these pages.

Cupid

Cupids, also known as Love Angels, are agents of Valentine. Their powers are derived from the positive emotions of others, love and joy, and, without such, they cannot use their powers. Such powers include Empathy, Levitation and Conjuring (Bows and Arrows) in standard Cupids, but can vary by the individual, their rank and their own powers. Cupids are ritually born into a Coven in their own dimension; a Cupid in our world can be activated by use of the phrase ‘Ortus Amos’. This will activate their basic powers.

Connor only got as far as the end of the first paragraph when Ryan asked him something. Connor hadn’t heard him and had to tear his eyes away from the page to actually focus on Ryan asking the question again.

“Do you understand?” Ryan had asked, but the truth was the Connor didn’t really know if he did or not. He didn’t know if actually believed it yet, which was probably more important. But he quickly decided that there was no way the he was a Cupid! They were chubby babies in nappies who had wings and made people fall in love. Hardly his thing. Then, caught up in his own thoughts again, Connor heard Ryan say something else, but before he could ask ‘What?’, he felt another magnetic force, but stronger, physical and this time pulling…up? Connor could feel his feet lift off of the ground and he saw the whole room lower down as he rose higher and higher and, just as the wonder overtook the panic, Connor smacked his head against a wooden beam. Connor yelled a loud cry of pain that rang through the room.

“Boys?” a distinctly female voice (a Mrs Grahams post-coffee voice) called from downstairs. “Is everything all right up there?”

“Yeah mum! It’s all fine!” Ryan called down through the wall where the door had once been, but Celia didn’t seem at all concerned, perhaps it was still there and only Connor couldn’t see it.

“I’ve got some juice for you two, can I come up?” she asked.

“Yeah, sure!” Ryan hollered and Connor stared at him in shock and horror at what he was allowing to happen. Clearly, he didn’t want to be seen as he was, pressed up against the roof of someone’s magic attic, having only discovered that he was somehow a connection to Cupid and was only now discovering how.

Ryan noticed Connor’s distress and smiled confidently, before taking a breath and holding his flat palms out in front of him, just as he’d done when he vanquished the Ifrit Demon.

“May the Object I address be as it stood,

Put the Door back in place for its of Good.”

Then, with a mysterious, liquid glow, as though Tinkerbelle’s fairy dust had fallen from the crease in the ceiling across the wall, the door, in all its simplicity, seemed to flow back into reality with the circular, dented doorknob with the circle etched into it all intact. Ryan then turned to Connor and his smile disappeared, Ryan’s face contorted in looks of sorrow or rage or regret, everything that would make a person upset and Connor wondered why he was being glared at all of a sudden. Connor racked his brain for some kind of insult that he’d spewed recently so he could apologise. He then remembered how he’d caused Ryan crazy, only to be a proven staple in the world that Ryan was only trying to introduce him into. Connor was suddenly burdened with guilt and he felt the weight on his shoulders. The physical weight was resting on his literal shoulders, but it was a lot heavier than the emotional baggage he was used to carrying in. Then Connor realised that he was literally sinking through the air, back down to the ground and he remembered:

‘Their powers are derived form the positive emotions of others – without such, they cannot use their powers.’

Of course! Ryan was digging up negative emotions so as to cancel out Connor’s newly activated powers and bring him back down to Earth. And just in time too, because just as Connor touched ground, the doorknob began to turn and there was budge, but the door didn’t open immediately, as if it was suddenly stuck and Connor wondered if perhaps, Mrs Grahams had burnt herself on the door as well, but Ryan didn’t look at all concerned. Ryan simply reached over to the door and opened it, without so much as a flinch. Ryan’s mother looked grateful as she walked in with two glasses, one in her hand and the other trapped between her arm and he side. She smiled and gave the glasses to the two boys and told them both to enjoy before quickly returning back downstairs, closing the door behind her.

“OK!” Ryan said, surprising Connor with his volume, but he relaxed when Ryan smiled at him again, picking up the Book and bringing it back to the pedestal. “So, you are a confirmed Cupid. Your powers are Levitation, Empathy and Conjuring. Have you ever done any of the other two?”

Connor shook his head in response, walking back over to the Book and looking down at the whole entry again.

“Well, why don’t we try?” Ryan suggested and Connor saw no reason to disagree.

For the rest of the day, the boys practised Connor’s new powers. He got the hang of Levitation surprisingly quickly, even though he tends to need to throw his arms up in the air in order to actually go up, but it’s still impressive. (Landings are still a bit shaky though) His Empathy is extremely limited, only being able to distinguish Happy, Sad and Angry, but should improve as his powers begin to draw on the positive emotions of people nearby, so, with concentration, he should be able to narrow down the options. With regards to Conjuring, he can conjure a simple Longbow and 1 Arrow, but his aim is perfect. After years of continuous of Summer Camps along with yearlong training from age 8 to 14, he’s perfectly equipped with Archery and that one arrow is never wasted.

It was about 7 o’clock when Connor finally chose to leave. Ryan saw him to the door to share to goodbye.

“Today was a lot of fun!” Connor beamed “a little bit scary at first, but I appreciate it.”

“I’m glad,” Ryan’s smile was gentle and it seemed a lot brighter in the setting sunlight that Connor had his back to.

“I’ll see you at school on Monday!” Connor called turning around to walk onto the street.

“See you on Monday!” Ryan hollered after him, waving. Ryan stopped waving when Connor was out of his sight and he returned into the house. He closed the door and leaned against it, still smiling happily.

“He seemed like a nice boy,” Celia commented as she walked past the entryway.

“Yeah,” Ryan agreed, smiling wider “he’s a lovely boy.”

 

~\*/~

 

Twilight didn’t last long after Connor left. The Sun was hasty drop below the horizon, which was littered with a perfect combination of city buildings and skyscrapers and of trees the bordered the lanes and semi-rural streets. Connor had insisted on walking to and from Ryan’s house, but he was soon regretting it as the chill of British Autumn (Which was the equivalent of the rest of the World’s idea of Early Winter) as it quickly bit through his jacket and dug into his skin. The dark was descending far quicker than Connor had imagined it would and he was already jogging, trying to keep track of which ways to turn. Then, he stopped suddenly. There was a chill running down his back. But this wasn’t just a chill, it was dark, heavy and it was following him. Connor wrapped the tan coat tighter around his slim form and began to scan the immediate area, but he saw nothing out of the ordinary, mostly just houses of the same size and bleach white colour. He started to move again, slowly now; he didn’t want to miss anything that could be a problem later. His pace gradually quickened as he suddenly turned a corner down away from the horizon, which was now a dark blue, near black. It was only two streets to his house now and he was feeling safer, but running faster, if he was this close now, then perhaps whatever was following him wouldn’t catch him.

No such luck.

Connor instinctively ducked as something swooped down over his head, flicking the top clutches of hair to facing the front of his head, pointing in the direction the thing had gone. Connor snapped his head up again to find the attacker, but he or she was camouflaged by the dark of night. He stood up again and steeled his nerves, just as Ryan had done for him last night. With feet planted firmly shoulder-width apart and hands by his side, Connor mentally prepared himself to Levitate and then Conjure his Bow and Arrow, although it had been two years since he’d hit a moving target, he felt confident, well, he told himself to be confident. There was a loud flutter in the air and Connor immediately shot his arms up into the air; he felt Gravity release him as he rose high into the air, Connor then felt the same thing fly into his stomach, but he misjudged its weight and it knocked him out of the air and at least 5 metres away from where he’d started, landing on his bum and flopping his head down hard on the concrete pavement. Connor seethed as he got up again clutching the back of his head, drawing his hand back for inspection he didn’t see any blood, but he did remember what to do. He quickly stumbled to his feet and rushed over to another hunched over form, clutching his own head. Connor at first didn’t register what was happening, but then it hit him.

“…Vampire?” he asked quietly, scared of the answer.

A woman flicked her long black hair from her face and glared up at Connor with bright yellow-green eyes with huge black pupils, but Connor didn’t think they were dilated by anything external, but just by pure Vampirism. The eyes widened revealing a glowing white of surprise as well.

“Cupid!” she hissed, but she wasn’t waiting to be surprised. She immediately turned on all fours and pounced on Connor, knocking him back down to the ground, head smacking down first. The Vampire sniffed the air before smiling a cruel, vile smile. “Blood has spilt.”

Connor didn’t have the option to check, but he chose to believe the Vampire when it came to blood, especially if it was his own. For reasons unknown, Connor could not drag his eyes away from the Vampire’s, they were beautifully hypnotic with a sense of both danger and power and a sensual darkness to be feared and admired, they didn’t look large and doped, as was the normal for eyes that large, but they seemed to be from a woman who knew the world and exactly how to twist it her way, destroying exactly as many and as few people as she saw fit. Connor didn’t stop to think about saving his own skin as long as he stared into her eyes, as if there was nothing else. Until the fire started.

Most people are first hit by the smell of fire, but Connor was far too invested in the Vampire’s eyes so that he only realised that she was on fire when he saw her hair turning into a blazing red and orange. She screamed an awful, deafening, blood-curdling scream that would tear through most people’s eardrums like scissors through paper. The fire stung his eyes as they consumed her form perfectly, she was warped into spinning flames that rocketed through her entire body within seconds and left little more than a few ashes and the already faint smell of smoke. Connor was at a loss for words, he didn’t understand what was happening, but his first idea was to sit up properly, which he did, and he found himself staring at a pair of black, calf-high boots that cut off to reveal the dark blue of tight jeans. Following the body upwards, Connor saw the black leather and then a hood that covered the face of whoever it was before him. Then he noticed that in a nail-painted hand was a long, thin wooden stump, which had been sharpened to a point and was now coated in something red and fairly viscous. Connor’s mind finally caught up with his eyes as he suddenly scrambled backwards from the figure standing tall and silent before him. His chest was heaving and his eyes flicking around in their sockets.

“Wh-who are you?” he stuttered out, only to be face with silence.

The heroine then turned her back and jumped with the grace, force and height of a ninja and landed on a street lamp, with her knees bent, but her back straight. She stood up again and turned so he could only see her profile.

“I’m,” she said in a voice as dark as the night “a Slayer.”

And with that, she pounced in a way that made the Vampire seem as graceful as a headless chicken. She glided smoothly for a second through the air, like a knife through hit butter, he clothes floating ever-so-slightly as she did so, but in the next second she was gone. As if, like Ryan’s door, she literally had taken herself out of reality without so much as a word to it.

Connor remained where he was for a while, trying to take it all in. Then, he got up, felt his head and something wet, then, without so much as looking, walked home calmly, but quickly so as to get some First Aid.

8: Eclipse

The Lunar Eclipse

9/11/03

“I’m so glad we finally got around to doing this,” Celia commented as she held her arms behind her head, pulling her left elbow with her right hand as the exercise video playing on the screen instructed.

“Same,” Ryan commented, mimicking the same stretching exercise “I swear we’ve had this thing for like a year and haven’t touched it?”

It was a beautiful day outside; the sky was blue with only wisps of white and dainty grey, but the sun was shining through peacefully. Ryan and his mother were both standing in loose clothing, tracksuits and the like, upon yoga matts they’d acquired when they purchased the video last year. They were in a Conservatory-type room that acted as an intermediary between the living room at the front of the house and the kitchen behind them. The French windows were cast widely asunder onto the patio that bordered the house from the garden. The room they were in didn’t have much in the way of furniture, but what had resided there had been pushed to the far edges of the room. The varnished wooden floor beneath them gleamed in the sunlight and the thick, boxed TV set flickered with mild quality video featuring women in sports bras and spandex knee-length shorts. The woman was pretty, fit brunette with a big smile and hair tied in a high ponytail. She spoke in both an encouraging but patronising voice as she asked if the viewers at home were ready to get started.

“Ready?” Ryan asked. Celia looked at her son with an unimpressed look.

“When was the last time you saw me do exercise?” she asked.

Ryan could only smile in response and they both started shaking out their limbs by the woman’s command, preparing for the anguish of an actual workout after years of putting it off.

“All right!” the woman said, being the most and only person in the room pumped for the next hour. “Let’s Go!”

 

~\*/~

 

Ryan and Celia were both lying flat on their backs, chests rising up and down like a dingy on stormy seas, their limbs tired and splayed around them unceremoniously. Celia’s hair had, by its own accord, escaped from her ponytail and Ryan could no longer see out of left eye because of how his hair had fallen, which was probably a sign to get a haircut. Their sweat was soaking into the two thin matts below and the air was humid with moist CO2 emissions. Both sets of eyes were wide and white and they shared a look of horror and regret and fatigue and regret.

“Mum?” Ryan asked from a tight, dry throat, having to lick his lips after the single word.

“Yes?” she replied in a similar voice. Ryan turned his face and she turned to look him dead in the eye.

“Never again.”

Celia didn’t have the energy or the necessary saliva in her throat left to laugh more than a dry, throaty chuckle that quickly became a dry, throaty cough, to which Ryan laughed as well, but he didn’t laugh long enough for it to become a cough. Celia glared at her son, but she kept the smile on her face.

“You look like crap,” she commented, seeking revenge, but Ryan had turned away when he laughed.

“So do you,” he retorted playfully, breaking into another smile.

After a further five minutes of quips, jabs and heavy breathing, mother and son eventually helped each other up from their positions on the floor and they carried each other into the kitchen and sat down in chair. They hung back in the chairs, slouching to the point that their heads were tilted straight back and their tongues were tempted jump out their mouths like dogs just to get more oxygen back into their bodies. However, Celia was smart enough to force herself up and pour both of them glasses of cold water from the tap. They both drank hurriedly, draining their glasses within seconds and clashing the cups back down on the table with renewed vitality. The heavy breathing eventually stopped and the pants turned to smiles and giggles as they looked at how pink the other was, not realising that they themselves looked like boiled lobsters. After several minutes of giggle fits, they both calmed down enough to start talking again.

“So,” Celia opened, “that boy yesterday seemed very nice. Classmate?”

“Um, yeah, Connor,” Ryan replied, hiding his hands under the table so that his mother wouldn’t see him fidget. “Yeah. He’s in all my Science classes.”

“I haven’t seen him before, how did you become friends?”

“Well, you know,” Ryan said, trying to casually pass it off “shared interests. I saved his skin, he’s- yet to return the favour. Then, he wanted to see what kind of…essay I was doing for Biology and I said ‘Sure. Come over.’”

Celia had nodded along through Ryan’s fiction with a small, knowing smile across her face. She had rested her head on her bent wrist and attempted to look him straight in the eye, but his nervous habit of looking at everything but the person he was speaking to was making it rather difficult.

“Ryan,” she finally said, “why are you lying to me?”

Ryan finally looked at his mother, he saw the smile and assured look in his eyes and couldn’t help sigh and smile in defeat.

“Just to see if I’ll ever get one past you,” Ryan admitted calmly, “it’s a personal challenge I set myself.”

“So,” Celia leaned back in her chair  “is he a…love interest?”

Ryan’s breath immediately caught his throat, his eyes bugged out and he threw his head forward in such shock that, if he had been drinking, would’ve surely been a perfect spit take. He snapped his head back up at his mother, whose expression had yet to change from the omniscient expression she’d semi-permanently adopted since Ryan had been born. She leaned forward and was now resting her head on both hands overlying each other. Ryan tried to compose himself, but was not doing very well. He considered lying, but he knew his mother would never be fooled, so he surrendered. He bit his lips, another nervous habit.

“How long have you known?” he asked without looking at her “that I was gay, I mean.”

“Hmm?” she pondered, “it must’ve been the day we brought you home. And if I didn’t know then, it was that time I caught you kissing the poster of Paul McCartney I kept from University.”

Ryan was clearly red before, but now he was an all-new shade. He refused to meet Celia’s gaze, suddenly finding one particular section of the kitchen floor extremely interesting, but not interesting enough to bring it up at this moment. Still looking away, but now directing his attention to the ceiling, Ryan continued.

“Does it bother you?”

“Eh,” was his mother’s reply. Ryan was genuinely surprised and, in his astonishment, finally looked his mother in the eye; her expression hadn’t changed.

“What?”

“Well,” she elaborated, “it’s an OK secret, I guess. I’m just saying, when I was 16 my mother found out that I nearly castrated a guy by kicking him in the nuts with her high heels that I sto- borrowed. I didn’t tell her because she was one of those women who believed a woman should obey a man and I was one of those girls who said no a lot.”

Ryan could only stare at his mother; this was not the reaction he had expected when he was 12 and realised he exclusively liked boys. When he told Lilith, she’s been happier than when he tried to convince her that he was straight, another reaction that he’d never expected, but was grateful for nonetheless. Now his mother was not only accepting, she was genuinely unconcerned by it. Ryan felt himself relax as his mother smiled at him with the same gentle smile that he’d grown up with, the smile that had put him to bed and told him that the dark was nothing to be afraid of and that cared for him when he had a fever of 103° and it was the smile that hugged him whenever he’d cried. Then, that smile change and replaced with his mother’s iconic facial expression: the cocky half-smirk. Usually, the only people who tried that smile were jocks after girls, but, of all the people Ryan knew, only two people could truly pull of that smirk: his mother and Paul Rudd in Clueless. There seemed to be some kind of weight lifted off from his shoulders that he didn’t realise he’d been carrying, but he was so much happier now that it had been released; looking outside, the cliché was true, granted the clouds were still grey and the trees were still losing leaves like there was no tomorrow, but what was left did look just a tinge brighter, a bit friendlier. Ryan felt a kind of contentment fill his heart as he felt himself smile his own gentle smile.

“Now!” Celia called with the same smug expression she’d adopted a moment before. “I won’t forget about this Connor boy! Tell me about him.”

“No,” Ryan announced out rightly, “I love you, but I’m not talking to my mother about my gay crush. I’m 16. It’s just not natural.”

“Oh, come on,” Celia smiled “I’m a cool mum. I’m hip. I’m fun. All of which are things someone who’s really cool wouldn’t say, but still I’m gonna roll with it. ‘Cuz that’s just how we do in the hood!”

Ryan began trying to choke down a laugh of lunacy, but he couldn’t keep it suppressed for long before exploding in a fit of mass hysteria. Ryan had to rest his forehead against the table as he continued to laugh at the words coming from his mother’s (HIS MOTHER’S) mouth. There were almost tears in his eyes above his re-reddening face, but soon he had to gasp for the air he’d been neglecting and he slowly raised back up to see his mother still looking at him, trying desperately not to laugh herself. Finally, Ryan calmed down, but still chuckled worked their way up his system every few seconds like a bad case of hiccups.

“Oh my,” Ryan sighed, “I’m sorry, mum, but I have to tell Lilith about this. She’s gonna die.”

“Ok,” Celia nodded quietly, “also, tell her she can use the door as opposed to scaling the house. Honestly, I think that’s why we don’t have burglars, they think all the good stuff goes the day we buy it.”

 

~\*/~

 

“You guys are ridiculous,” Lilith smiled as she sat on Ryan’s bed, waiting for him to get out of the shower. “I don’t do any exercise and I have a freaking six-pack.”

“Yeah, but you’re not human!” Ryan retorted as he shut off the water and began towelling off. “Other people, people-people, need to actually work so they don’t get out of shape!”

“But you’re already out of shape, why mess with the natural order?”

“Says the one woman army.”

Ryan appeared out of the bathroom in a black pair of tracksuit bottoms and a white and blue baseball shirt, a white towel wrapped in a turban around his head and a mild expression on his face. He was accompanied out of the bathroom by a flurry of white steam flying into the ceiling. He walked over to the bed and flopped down on his back next to Lilith. Lilith followed suit and lay down next to her bestie.

“So, you’re mom knew, huh?” she asked.

“Yup,” Ralph had a lopsided smile on his face at the memory “didn’t even flinch.”

“Oh my God! We need to celebrate tonight! What should we do?”

“Um, I don’t know. I don’t have any plans, so I guess.” Ryan said, and then just as that moment, there was a short jingle of a text message being received. Immediately, Ryan flipped over and grabbed his mobile from his nightstand and flipped it open. He immediately started to smile at whatever was written, but Lilith had become playfully suspicious, she closed the space between them, trying to look over Ryan’s shoulder.

“Now, who exactly texts you besides me and mummy dear?” Lilith said trying to peer over to the text.

“Nobody!” Ryan said, hiding his phone “it’s just…I may or may not have plans later.”

Lilith gasped in faux hurt, holding her flat hand to her chest and turning her head. Ryan dropped his guard and Lilith was as fast as lightning, she snapped her hand around Ryan and grabbed the phone and snatched it back over to her side all before Ryan could even react. When Ryan could even turn around, Lilith was reading the text at and grinning.

“Yesterday was a lot of fun. Something happened on the way home. Need to talk ASAP, can you do dinner tonight?” Lilith read it out aloud; she turned back to Ryan slowly “you and Connor? Texting? Do I need to ask?”

Ryan stuck his tongue into his cheek as he searched for the words to deliver the news the best way possible. He obviously couldn’t come out and tell Lilith he was a Witch (then explain why he was a male Witch and not a Wizard or a Warlock) and that Connor was a Cupid and there were Demons and Evil, and clearly something magic related had happened to Connor otherwise he would’ve texted his friends.

“It’s nothing,” Ryan said unconvincingly, “we got paired up on a Science project and he must’ve had a breakthrough!”

“Then explain why he’s inviting you to dinner?” Lilith tested.

Ryan opened his mouth to answer, but found that nothing came to mind. Why did Connor invite him to dinner? It seems a bit…romantic? Too romantic for talk about magic and Demons. Of course, this was him thinking about roses and candlelight; he could just mean a burger down the road. Ryan had to think about what to say to Connor and what to actually do tonight.

“I’m so excited to see you!” Lilith typed out loud “Can’t wait to get dinner with you! Bringing my sexy as fuck best friend, so we’ll have to make room! And send!”

Just as Ryan jumped off the bed to stop Lilith, she’d already pushed the button and the text was sent to Connor. Ryan snatched the phone back just in time to see the screen light up with a moving envelope icon above the text saying ‘Message Sent’. Ryan could only stare at his phone with his mouth open, staring at the tiny screen, whilst Lilith sat back down on the bed with the utmost confidence in her decision.

“I wonder where he’s taking us?”

 

~\*/~

 

“Y’know, sending that text, I kinda expected us to be alone,” Connor commented.

“I know,” Ryan said unhappily, casting a sideways glance to Lilith with a bunch of chips stuffed in her face. “So did I.”

They did end up going to a Diner at about 6:30 for an early dinner; of course it wasn’t the lavish, ambient environment Ryan had envisioned upon being asked out to a dinner date. Not that this was a date, he had to remind himself, but in any case, this little Diner had always been a favourite place for both Ryan and Lilith since they were younger, so there were no complaints. Well, except for Lilith being around, which Ryan loved, but not when Connor obviously needed to talk to him about something. So, as Lilith guzzled down her coke, she treated them all.

“All right, I’m going to the bathroom,” she turned tightly around and gracefully walked away from the table “you two lovebirds keep cool until I come back, I don’t wanna miss anything.”

“Oh, I’m not gay, I just-” Connor burst out at Lilith’s implication.

“Yeah, of course you’re not,” Lilith waved him off and continued to strut away.

“Really!” Connor continued to protest, “this is about a Science project.”

Lilith then swivelled around with class of lady, yet the clear practice of Mistress of the Night. She smirked devilishly and her eyelids were half-closed in a seductive, lazy fashion.

“Me thinks the Lady doth protest too much,” she recited quietly, though loud enough for both boys to hear her perfectly well. Ryan had to bite his lips together to stop from laughing embarrassedly and Connor, who had no response to the statement, turned beet red and turned his face down in an attempt to hide. Lilith licked her top lip and sauntered off, swaying her hips as she walked away. Ryan released his grip on his lips and turned to Ryan with an apologetic look in his eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Connor!” he said with such a genuine voice and face that Connor could only look him in his slightly blurring eyes, his hand knotted together under the table in their usual nervous position “she doesn’t mean what’s she saying, she’s just teasing because, well, she’s like that. I’m sorry, you’re probably really annoyed.”

Ryan expected Connor to say something to the affirmative; he expected Connor to be angry and throw a hissy fit and Ryan would probably sit there and let it happen. But then he heard a laugh. A tiny, almost choked down chuckle coming from Connor’s throat, but then he let it free and he was laughing in complete earnest, his eyes tight and mouth wide open in a white, toothy grin. Connor calmed down quickly and smiled at Ryan across the table, his shoulders still shuddering at something Ryan didn’t understand.

“She is exactly what I imagined her to be!” Connor suddenly announced, coupled with a few previously repressed giggles “I think she’s hilarious.”

Ryan was stunned, usually people would get pissed off with Lilith and everyone would end up in a fight with Ryan as a failing peace barrier. However, Connor could only smile at the situation and that smile warmed Ryan’s heart, he was happy that maybe all three of them could get along, so Ryan beamed back at Connor.

“In any case, it’s definitely worth being with you,” Connor mumbled, but he mumbled just loud enough for Ryan to hear. The surprise of the statement made them both drop their smiles and look at each other in a greatly stunned fashion. “Well, as a friend. I didn’t mean it like-”

“No, I know, that’s what I thought you meant,” Ryan smiled again, clearly trying a little harder this time. Sensing that he’d made a mistake, Connor hastily changed the subject.

“Actually, the reason I asked you out here was because something happened when I was leaving your house,” Connor’s face and voice was serious and Ryan followed suit.

“I figured as much,” Ryan replied, “What was it? A Demon?”

“A Vampire,” Connor stated. Ryan didn’t seem fazed at all; he just sat back in the red leather booth and looked as though he was thinking deeply.

“I’ve seen them in the Book,” he stated, “we should check it when we get the chance.”

“Tonight?”

“No,” Ryan shook his head, “Lilith will come home with me, she’ll want to join us if you stay with me and I refuse to bring her into this. If a Vampire can attack someone with magic, then I can’t trust myself to keep a mortal safe, especially not Lilith. She’s too important to me.”

Connor nodded in understanding. If it had been his own sister or his brother, he’d never let them even get close to any kind of Demon; and Connor knew that Ryan and Lilith were basically brother and sister, so he could empathise. They quickly agreed that Connor would have to come to Ryan’s house at least a couple of hours after they left school the next day, so that they could keep Lilith out of it. After all, it was known from Fairy Tales that Vampires have their own clans whenever they inhabit any new territory, if Connor was being targeted, then it wasn’t one Vampire and he wasn’t the only victim. They were still discussing plans when Lilith came out of the bathroom; she stood in the shadow that covered the door to the Ladies’ and kept still. If she was still and focused, she could focus on Ryan and Connor and filter out the other conversations from around the Diner; her ears could pick up sound waves like a well-trained dog. She picked up chunks of sentences between the clattering of plates, the constantly changing volume in people’s raucous laughter and the very breathing of the other customers that got in Lilith’s earshot; there was talk of a Book in Ryan’s attic, some kind of attack on Connor’s part, potions and…Vampires? Vampires! Lilith’s eyes widened ever so slightly, before she narrowed them into thin slits that illustrated some kind of wrath, however, the way she licked her top lip was a known sign of a Lilith having a kind of fun that she wasn’t meant to have; it was a dangerous sign whenever Lilith licked her top lip, not that there was anything you could do about it, of course.

 

~\*/~

 

The trio were on the homeward path about an hour later. They were walking down the orange-bathed suburban pavements, looking as though it had been recently swept as all the leaves, save a few stragglers, had been pushed to the side of the street. The white-grey concrete blocks that made up the pavement was spotted with small, thin trees that had been deliberately planted as a sort of barrier between the pedestrian area and the road itself. Ryan was in between Lilith, closer to the walls of the other houses, and Connor, who was closer to the trees and occasionally had to fall back slightly in order to dodge a stray branch or two. The air was silent and uncomfortably heavy. Ryan, being in the middle, felt like he should be the lifeblood of the conversation, but, under social pressure, he tended to cave, so he remained silent. Lilith was looking off into the distance, chewing on a piece of gum with a bored expression and Connor had his hands shoved in his jeans with a look of deep thought and consideration crossing his features. Ryan repeatedly swung his head to look from Lilith to Connor and back, which is when he realised that he was the shortest of all three of them; he’d always been just an inch or two inches shorter than Lilith who was at 6’ exactly, but now she was in heels that added at least two inches and Connor seemed to be about the same height as Lilith was in heels. Suddenly, his feelings of physical inadequacy added to the already heavy atmosphere, instinctively causing Ryan shrank into himself as they walked. Of course, even though Connor had been well humoured at dinner, Lilith had been less than hospitable towards him, even when she acted kind. When the bill came, Connor offered to pay the whole thing as compensation for dragging them both out unexpectedly, but Lilith wouldn’t allow it; offering to pay for both herself and Ryan, so Connor only had to worry about himself. Of course, Ryan would never acknowledge it; he simply smiled and tried to work the conversation past the silent battle to be some kind of dominant figure. So, the walk home had been stiflingly silent and it was becoming too much for Ryan to bear as the silence made even his heartbeat pulse in his ears, if only for his brain to remind himself that his ears were working. There wasn’t even a car driving home or away to break the taciturnity. At last, Ryan could bear no more!

“Um!” he squeaked loudly, his voice tight from both a lack of speaking and a constricting coil around his throat that was his brain telling him not to start anything. Ryan suddenly stopped walking, causing both Connor and Lilith to take a few unnoticed steps ahead; they both turned to face Ryan with idle, but genuine, curiosity at what he wanted to say. Ryan moved to open his mouth again, but was stopped suddenly. In fact, Ryan’s entire body seemed to stop; his mouth hung where it was, his knees bent, his arms lost all tension and his head drooped; as if he were a puppet on lax strings. Both Connor and Lilith turned their bodies to completely face Ryan. There was a look of concern, soon to be fear, crossing both their features, as Ryan simply stood there motionless for a moment. Then, just as Connor was about to call out to him, Ryan lifted his head slowly to show his face. His mouth was in a dead straight line, face muscles completely relaxed, but, worst of all, his eyes were blank and staring: his iris had turned to a ghostly white and the pitch black pupil in the centre only served to emphasise it. Both Connor and Lilith were severely worried now and they began to approach slowly. They flinched when Ryan suddenly snapped his neck upward, nearly quick enough to cause whiplash, his large white eyes unblinking in the darkness and clearly focused on something. Connor and Lilith both followed Ryan’s gaze upwards until they saw what he saw. The full moon was high in the sky, appearing as a burning silver orb hanging against the star-studded, midnight sky, but the moon didn’t look full, it seemed to be oddly shadowed, as a contrast to its usual crescent curve of darkness that went from one side to the other, it seemed to be crossing diagonally, but it was moving at fast pace considering that it was the Dark Side of the Moon. Then it hit them.

The Lunar Eclipse!

Connor quickly deducted that the Moon must have some powerful ties to Ryan’s Witchcraft and that it was now having a very adverse effect. So, as the darkness took over completely, creating a blank space in the sky that none present had ever seen unfilled.

Finally, Ryan spoke.

“Incipe Resuscitatio!”

Ryan called the ancient phrase loud and high into the night sky, thrusting his arms up into the air wildly. There seemed to be an immediate hitch in his breath and kind of shudder went through him.

And then he fell. As if all energy had simply vanished from his entire being; the Ryan that moved like a puppet had had his strings cut. Connor began to run towards him, but Lilith seemed to already be there, having moved faster than Connor could even register. Then, Connor felt a frozen shiver ran through his body, like somebody had just poured ice water through his veins. Then he seemed to feel numb and apathetic for the general situation; he didn’t care about the Eclipse or Lilith or the chill that was continuing to course through his body, but as he looked at Ryan something seemed to spark in him, but it was quickly extinguished as he relaxed his right leg, striking up a bored stance.

“Yo!” he yelled with clear indifference in his voice, to which Lilith reacted with both shock and anger. “What’s the-”

Then, Connor felt something hot in him, like a comfortable fever entering his chest and he felt his eyes narrow like he would when he was angry. Now when he saw Ryan, his heart was filled to the brim with concern and worry, but he could still feel a hollow chill pressing into his back. Connor stopped moving and his eyes widened in shock, but he steadied himself and breathed.

“Lilith,” his voice was regular and clearly of a practised calm. “Is there someone behind me?”

Lilith was confused, but Connor saw her eyes flick to behind him. They revealed nothing, but when she turned back to him, her face straight and serious, she nodded grimly, as if declaring an execution. Connor had prepared himself to look brave when Lilith nodded and he put it to good use.

“Take Ryan back to his house. Put him to bed.” Connor ordered, a certain unquestionable gravity in his tone that even Lilith was silent as she rose to stand, now carrying Ryan’s unconscious body in her arms. She looked behind him again and then back to his face. She nodded again before turning around and she began jogging in the direction they’d all just come. She was quickly around the corner, which gave Connor the freedom he needed to do what he knew Ryan would want him to.

Now, with a new kind of fluidity that could only be achieved through trial and error, Connor used both his arms to propel his body into the air, Cupid imagined and projected the bow and arrow that he’d conjured before in Ryan’s attic. There was a ghostly, silver-pink glow gently erupting from inside his semi-clenched fists; the lights in his left hand grew and gracefully elongated into a smooth arc that, after the light faded, appeared as a simple, yet beautifully carved wooden bow and in his right hand, the lights remained straight, if only climaxing largely at each end to become the metal arrow tip and plumage on the end. With a twirl of his foot, Connor rotated himself around and brought the bow and arrow into an aiming position, one eye tightly shut and his arms in place to release the arrow through the air and into the heart of whatever Demon, Vampire, Werewolf or Warlock who dared to attack. But there was nothing to be seen. Connor lowered his shoulders, but his face was stony; he had the worst feeling that the enemy was still seriously close, which made it very difficult to relax, but he did know that staying levitated was the best action for that exact second. With his bow and arrow pointing directly down, Connor was assured in the fact that if anything raised his alarm he could be locked on to them in a second. Suddenly, Connor felt a strongly magnetic existence to his right and flicked his head over instantly, eyes instinctively scanning the area for potential threats, but he found nothing. Then, he felt the same icy thrill run down his back, pointing him to whatever was directly behind him; quick as a flash, Connor was facing what had been directly behind him to see a familiar sight.

All in mid-air, there were two people; one was a man with black hair dipped-dyed white and eyes squeezed excruciatingly tightly in pain. He was dressed in a long black trench coat and black suit trousers and shoes, but he wore a red leopard print shirt that had the first four buttons undone. His face could have been very handsome, if it weren’t for the tightly closed fist currently ramming straight into the cheek and seemingly pushing a sharp cheekbone back into his head. The other figure was the one that Connor recognised because it was clearly the very same woman who had saved him from the Vampire before by stabbing her, presumably through the heart, with a sharpened wooden stake; Connor could tell by the black heels she was wearing and the similar style jeans, but the hoodie was quite a different style, it was very simple and dark and Connor knew he recognised that from somewhere too, but somewhere else. However, there was no time to dawdle on such things as time caught up with Connor and he watched the hooded figure deliver a powerful hook that sent the attacker down a beeline into the pavement, causing a loud ruckus and a large cluster of grey smoke of broken concrete and asphalt burst into being.

The Hood was already descending quickly, falling onto the ground, heels first, with a grace and decorum that all women would imitate given the chance. However, she did not stop to admire herself as Connor had and was quick to move again, again towards the enemy who was hidden in the very debris cloud that she’d inadvertently created for him. That didn’t stop her though as she charged into the smoke with a focus that few could mimic outside of Fairy Tale princes. Within seconds, there were more hideous sounds bursting from the earth, loud and crunching, but all Connor could focus on for any length of time was the fact that no people were coming out to see what the noise was about; he hadn’t even remembered to raise his bow, not that he could see the point, considering he couldn’t see anything from outside the dust cloud and arguing that he would be next to useless on the inside. So he waited. There were powerful noises emanating from the inside and occasionally, from his sans-gravity perspective, Connor swore he saw the Earth itself shake and shudder around him. Finally, something moved a wisp of smoke out of the way, but it was invisible to Connor’s eyes.

‘If only Ryan was here!’ Connor thought, readying his bow and arrow tightly in his hand, preparing to aim and release.

There was the feeling of cold running through Connor’s body and it made him lose focus to shudder, but he knew he couldn’t think to lose his balance now. If the Demon was nearby, this was finally his chance to be the hero. He breathed in to steady himself and he closed his eyes. The cold feelings still flowed into him like water into a canal, then, without thinking, Connor’s arms drifted upwards and, with eyes still closed, that the arrow was following the source of cold as it seemed to fly higher and higher into the sky until it finally stopped and Connor’s fingers flexed and released their grip on the arrow, letting it loose to follow its aim.

At last, Connor opened his eyes again and his eyes stung as soon as they followed the brightest light in the night sky, a slowly falling fireball slowly descending in a human-sized, shapeless mesh of burning mass. It sunk through the air past Connor, but it burnt out to nothing before it reached the ground, leaving nothing but a thinning trail of smoke in its wake.

Finally, Connor sighed a heavy, but satisfying sigh as he allowed Gravity to reclaim him and he gently fell back down to the realms of earth below. When his feet touched ground, he lost his balance and stumbled slightly, but he managed to compose himself before falling over entirely. He moved his shoulders around and listened to them click inside his body. Suddenly he jumped, as his mortal thoughts returned to mind and the first thing he thought was if Ryan was OK or not, but as he turned to run in the direction that Lilith had taken, his path was obstructed by the Hood, whose back was towards Connor and her bare, scratched hand was rubbing her head through the drawn hood. Connor stopped and stood still, before steeling his nerves to speak.

“Thank you for your help,” he called to her, “again.”

She clicked her neck with a sudden jerk and mumbled something akin to ‘You’re Welcome’. But the apathetic response only amused Connor slightly.

“I really appreciate it,” he continued just as she began walking away. “Lilith.”

The Hood stopped instantly and seemed tense, but as the words sunk in, so did her shoulders, seemingly accepting the accusation.

“You saw under my hood?” Lilith made her own assumption.

“Nope.”

“Then how?”

“Guessed.”

“How?” came her irritated repetition.

“First of all, that’s not your hoodie. I recognised it from earlier tonight…on Ryan,” Connor pointed out.

“You seem pretty tied to him lately,” Lilith remarked with a cold amusement in her voice. “Sure you’re not gay?”

“Rest assured, my intentions are not based on sexuality,” Connor was clearly trying to sound superior, but Lilith had already deemed him irrevocably unimpressive.

“But that’s not to say sexuality isn’t involved,” Lilith pointed out. Connor set his jaw, but she smiled cruelly. “Isn’t that right?”

“What are you?” Connor asked simply. “How do you fight the Demons?”

“Haven’t I answered that question already?” she was clearly annoyed, especially since she’d refused to turn around and look at Connor since their conversation began. “Not too good at listening, are we, Cupid?”

Connor winced slightly at the venom Lilith spat out with that last word, but he powered through nevertheless.

“What happened to Ryan?” Connor asked before attempting to return Lilith’s spite. “Slayer.”

“He’s fine,” Lilith’s voice softened at the mention of her best friend, but she was quick to reassemble her guard again. “Not that you need to care.”

“Well, I do care, so you might as well get used to it sooner as opposed to later,” Connor stated defiantly, an attitude that Lilith approved of in anyone else, but refused to even acknowledge in his case. “Do you know what happened to him?”

“No,” she said through gritted teeth. “But it must’ve been the Lunar Eclipse, which is why the Demon attacked when it did. But it doesn’t matter anymore because that’s the last time Ryan’s going to get involved with anything remotely Demonically related.”

“What do you mean?” Connor was surprised.

“He’s not a part of this world. He’s not a Slayer, he’s not a Cupid and he’s not a Demon or a Vampire.” Lilith explained, much to Connor’s surprise and guilty amusement. “So, from now on, I’m making sure that he remains as far away from this world for as long as he lives.”

‘She doesn’t know!” Connor realised. “He’s a Witch and she doesn’t know!”

Connor opened his mouth again to say something, but Lilith continued.

“As far as he’s concerned, he probably just fainted, maybe a the meat in his burger had been aged just a little too long.” Lilith suggested. “The point is; I’m not bringing him into this, there’s no way he’s gonna find out by himself and now you’re not going to bring him into this.”

Lilith finally turned around to look at Connor as she spewed the last line of her rant; glaring daggers straight into his eyes without any idea of regret crossing them.

“He’s going to find out,” Connor pointed out. “You saw what happened when the Eclipse began.”

“It must’ve been the Demon using some kind of spell on him that only works during the Eclipse. It’s hardly unheard of.” Lilith explained.

“But it’s not what happened.”

Lilith’s eyes widened in angry shock at what Connor was suggesting, but he held his ground.

“Ryan is part of this world too, whether you know it or not,” he continued, “but I suspect that, in your heart of hearts, you did know, didn’t you? You just didn’t want it to be true because you didn’t want him hurt, which I understand! I don’t want him hurt either! That’s why I told you to get him away, because I knew that Demon was probably there for him. My point is; you can’t protect him and neither can I. The only one who can protect Ryan in this world, where Demons seem to appear us every night, is Ryan and that means you have to let him be here. This time was strange, but next time, Ryan is going to fight! He’s already broken into my house just to step between a Demon who wanted me dead and me, a practical stranger, simply for the sake of saving me, not himself – me. So, what’re you going to do?”

Connor stared straight into Lilith’s eyes, which revealed just how much information she was absorbing in those moments. Then, suddenly, he felt a wicked pain burst through his abdomen. His body was lurching forward from the force and as Connor’s head thrust itself down and forward, he saw the top of Lilith’s hair bursting out from underneath Ryan’s hood in streams of wine red and black. He could already feel how and far and hard he was going to fall when Lilith was through with this, but she didn’t release him; she kept on charging through him before slamming him into a wall across the road. The was a massive dent and cracks lining the wall now and Connor could already taste blood mixing with the saliva in his mouth, but he couldn’t see Lilith, even as she put her head next to his to whisper the words that were so beautifully lined with a mixture of pure anger and hatred that he almost had the evil equivalent of an orgasm.

“If you dare talk to him again, about this or anything else, I will kill you where you stand.”

And, with the same ninja-akin skills demonstrated the night before, she disappeared.

9: Prisoner

Turns Out Time Does Take Prisoners

10/11/03

“You’re not getting a choice in the matter!” Lilith called down from the other end of Ryan’s phone in a tone resembling his mother’s after he’d broken his wrist.

“I am fine!” Ryan repeated for the umpteenth time that morning, still trying to convince Lilith. “I just had a little fainting spell. I woke up this morning feeling absolutely fine and I will meet you at your house. Just like every other day of our lives. So, be ready at your door because I’m not speaking to that woman climbing my house right now.”

“Really? I’m literally on your wall and you’re gonna ignore me unless I go home and wait for you there?” Lilith huffed, but she had grown too accustom to her near-daily act of scaling the Graham’s house to be really tired.

“That’s right,” Ryan smiled. Lilith huffed again, but she agreed and Ryan listened out to recognise the sound of her feet landing gently on the grass. He chuckled to himself as he flipped the phone shut and gently dropped into his pocket, but as soon as he reached for his backpack, the phone buzzed in his pocket. He initially thought that Lilith was calling (Again), but it stopped after the second buzz, so it must’ve been a text. Ryan, knowing that Lilith never texted him unless she couldn’t speak, had a look a perplexion cross his features as he dug his phone back out of his pocket. He looked at the screen and smiled pleasantly in surprise as he saw a twitching, 8-bit envelope on the screen on the top side of the phone with ‘New Message from Connor’ written in a nice digital font. Ryan flipped open his phone and opened the message:

Morning! Hope ur ok 2day. Ws worried lst nite :( U gna b in skl?

Ryan couldn’t help but let his teeth gleam as he read the message. It was a lovely, warm feeling to know that so many people were worried about him. He began to reply immediately, still smiling.

Morning! Yh I’m fine. Jst a fainting spl. Thx.

Ryan quickly sent the message, but then his face was lined with slight worry and he quickly began texting a second message.

Nt a real Fainting Spell! Jst sumtin I 8 I guess.

Ryan sent off the second text and relaxed in the knowledge that Connor wasn’t going to worry about some kind of curse that Ryan would be susceptible to every time he left the house.

“Well, what a smile,” a voice called from the doorway.

Ryan snapped his head away from his phone, eyes following shortly after, to see his mother standing there with arms crossed, leaning against the wall and that satisfied smirk that she knew she could pull off. Ryan must’ve been blushing because he felt his cheeks warm up because he knew that she knew who he was texting and she knew that he knew that she knew, so there wasn’t even any point in denying it. He just bit the inside of his cheek and looked her in the eyes with a mild guilty look on his face.

“Did anything particularly amazing happen last night?” Celia asked, pushing herself off the wall and strolling inside of Ryan’s bedroom. “With you and Connor, I mean.”

“He’s not gay.” Ryan announced as he put a book he’d just seen into his backpack.

“He could be bi?” Celia suggested.

“Regardless,” Ryan pressed his eventual point. “Nothing happened. For one reason, he’s not like that. For two, he’s one of the most popular boys in school and this is not Reece Witherspoon movie where I inevitably get what I want. And finally, there was the fact that Lilith had accompanied us, so any potential romance, in however little quantities, was not on the table.”

With said rant over, Ryan made his way slyly around his mother and glided through the hall and down the stairs, headed straight for the front door when he heard Celia call down.

“Well, did you try the floor?”

~\*/~

After the last thing he’d heard from his mother, Ryan left the house with wide eyes and a desperate need to change the subject in his mind. He walked the road briskly, white puffs of smoke flowing out his mouth and falling into his face and tatty, old, white scarf wrapped around his neck. He’d decided that it was finally cold enough to wear a jacket over his uniform: just a simple old black coat, nothing spectacular. He rubbed his wool, black-gloved hands together and breathed warm air into his cupped hands. As usual, the walk to Lilith’s was little more than a short walk and he saw her as he turned around the corner, waiting on the pavement just off of her driveway. As she turned around and spotted him, he raised his hand and waved at her, but she was already walking towards him at a quick pace, when she got closer Ryan could tell that she was indeed worried about him, it was clear in her eyes.

“You’re later than usual, are you OK?” Lilith asked with a touching amount of concern in her voice. Ryan couldn’t help smile gratefully.

“Yes. I’m fine, just talking with my mum,” he explained. “Although, she certainly wasn’t as worried about me as you clearly are. Have you slept?”

“Of course I slept, you’re not that precious,” Lilith smirked. “And she probably would’ve been worried…if I’d told her what happened.”

Ryan looked both unimpressed and unsurprised, as if this happened every other day.

“You brought me in through the window, didn’t you?” he asked, to which Lilith simply nodded and he breathed out white smoke through his nose and smiled. “Thank you. I wouldn’t have wanted them to be too concerned about something like that.”

“I figured.” Lilith smiled knowingly. “Now, since you’re so fit and healthy, give me a piggy back!”

“I think God gave you that gift already,” Ryan said before walking off with Lilith leering and smiling after him.

“What does that even mean?”

“I don’t know, but saying that you have a piggy anything sounds insulting enough, so I went with it,” Ryan shrugged. Lilith quickly caught up with him and they walked together, feet only slightly out of step, and talking all the way.

They ended up nearing the red-roofed, oddly seated bus stop that they’d frequented every weekday since they were twelve and prepared to stand by it and wait for the infamously late bus to eventually arrive. The only other person there was a man who always wore a T-shirt and tracksuit bottoms, the colours of said attire changed everyday, but it was almost all identical so most of the time you’d think he’d worn the same thing about 4 out of 5 times a week, Monday through Friday. He was bald, but stubble lined his face in a darker version of the 5 o’clock shadow, never any more hair than that, but never any less, as if it simply stopped there simply by his own sheer force of will. Ryan and Lilith always said hi to him, simply because it’s strange not to talk to someone you see almost everyday, particularly when you start to recognise each other and you’re aware that you both recognise each other, so you just ‘hi’ to prove that you’re not awkward, whether to yourself or them is conditional. The man had never disclosed his name and neither had Ryan or Lilith, it was just a simple ‘hi’ or ‘hey’ five times a week and nothing more.

Just as Ryan and Lilith were about 5 metres away from the bus stop and they could see the man, navy top and grey bottoms, and they immediately knew who it was. Then, just as they got to 4 metres, a familiarly loathed black Mercedes pulled up beside them. The door popped open wide to reveal a mass of blonde hair and bright blue eyes shining upwards from inside. Ryan began to grin uncontrollably; fortunately it was cloud enough to stop a glare, as he heard Connor sing good morning from the dark, sleek car. Lilith chose only to narrow her eyes and glare deep into the slightly tanned face of the boy who wasn’t even looking in her direction.

“You guys need a ride?” Connor offered with a beautiful display of pearly whites.

Ryan was about to accept for both himself and Lilith, when she interrupted him quickly, placing her hand on the cold roof of the car, she didn’t show how freezing her fingers were as she spoke. Of course, compared to her voice, the weather could’ve been tropical.

“No. Connor, we’re fine. Thanks for the offer though,” Lilith said from behind a greatly straining smile, Ryan looked at her with grim recognition, knowing the look on her face. “After Ryan’s little mishap yesterday, the fresh air will probably do him some good.”

Connor looked at her for the first time and he smirked. A challenge was what he proposed. A challenge Lilith had already accepted.

“Fair point,” he nodded, but continued to smile. “On the other hand, it is very cold today. If there is something wrong, then it would be better to come in the car so he can keep warm and neither of you have to walk.”

Lilith was never one to back down from any form of contest and Connor was nothing she wasn’t fully prepared to handle. She linked her arm into Ryan’s and pulled him close to her, away from the car slightly.

“I understand and we appreciate it, but our bus is coming very shortly and it’s a tradition.”

“Why leave shortly, when you could leave now?” Connor argued, “and besides, Lilith, you’ve got quite a reputation for breaking regulations, and traditions are just regulations that nobody’s bothered to break for a long enough time. Someone of your standing should think of that as one of the greater challenges.”

The two glared at each other for a full minute with Ryan stuck flicking his eyes in between them, unable to look at either for more than a second. The air was thick with a pressing tension and the full brunt was dragging down on Ryan’s shoulders; though Connor and Ryan were creating it, they seemed to be oblivious to its effects, but Ryan was sweating from heat to toe and his eyes were wide and frozen in terror at opening his mouth. There was a throbbing in his ears where the noise of passive-aggressive arguing once was, but was now trying to fill the void of silence in the chilly air. Lilith’s naked hand was beginning to shiver, but she refused to show it any other part of her body as she stared down at Connor. Connor was perfectly comfortable as he stared up at Lilith, his breath left his mouth completely invisible, but it seemed to condense upon leaving the vehicle’s open door; it was so cold that his very breath seemed to be suspended in the air without so much as a flicker of movement.

Ryan then noticed this. Both Connor and Lilith’s breath had smoked up to whites as they left their lips, but they seemed to have halted before disappearing, they were no longer in any kind of movement. Ryan, however, didn’t seem able to exercise such control over his own breath. Ryan looked around the area, noticing that, in fact, his and Lilith’s bus had parked itself just upon the horizon, just a stone’s throw away from the woman who’d been dropping the contents of her bag onto the floor for about five minutes, but whose lipstick was still halfway between her hand and the ground. The indistinguishable, grey clouds had stopped moving and the final migrating birds were hanging like ornaments from the entirely mercurial cloud formations above. Ryan was fast realising that everybody had indeed stopped moving, it was what was causing it that plagued Ryan’s mind. He shot his glance over to the man who was always at the bus stop; he was seated just as normal, which only served to make Ryan feel worse. After all, if strangers are affected as well as your best friends, it must be bad.

“Thank you, My Lord.” Was the last thing Ryan heard before he was draped in darkness and felt himself be whisked away.

 

~\*/~

 

As the ripple-effect image of the two figures faded away from the scene, time began to return to its intended pace. The breath in front of Lilith and Connor’s faces quickly vanished into the cold, thin air. Their faces became reanimated as the argument surged on.

“Our rules and our traditions are for ourselves!” Lilith retorted. “We’d only break our own rules if we could also break the Laws of Physics!”

“Funny you should say that-!” Connor smiled horribly at her, like a cold victory won by a trick.

“I warned you about-” Lilith’s voice caught in her throat as something caught her eye; a seemingly unfilled area next to her that was once occupied by the black and white of her best friend. She stopped looking at Connor and began twirling around, twitching her in every other direction like a nervous Meerkat. “Where’s Ryan?”

Connor had noticed the absence as well and seemed equally worried. He’d moved back into the car to check the other window before stepping out onto the pavement with Lilith, both searching frantically with grim expressions covering their faces. Eventually they turned to each other and, from the dying wake of the former wrath and apathy for one another, a silent truce was formed in the shared gaze of determination.

“I’ll check his house,” Lilith started.

“I’ll check the school,” Connor finished.

They nodded at each other and moved tot heir positions, Lilith turned around to go back from where she’d come and Connor looked forward to where he’d originally intended to go. However, before closing the door behind him, Connor turned around to Lilith’s back.

“Lilith!” Connor called, she turned around hotly, more than likely hoping that he was calling because he’d already spotted Ryan, but Connor didn’t have time to go give her a hug, he had just one thing to say. “Check the attic!”

 

~\*/~

 

‘Well,’ Ryan hummed to himself, trying to keep from smashing his head against the cold, rusting bars that surrounded him in pure frustration. ‘I suppose it could be worse. I could be in school.’

At present, he had been locked inside a cage that was probably as old as the cave it resided in. The cave walls were wrinkled and weather-beaten, forming various diverse shapes and marks in the wall, some of the marks even resembled runes or symbols that Ryan recognised from the Book of Bones, which intrigued, confused and worried him. The walls were mostly dry, but with several large moist patches where the water simply clung to the sides of the wall, there was no dripping or spills or puddles anywhere, simply irregular shapes of thin water tied into the cavern.

The cage she was in wasn’t any more hospitable or any more hostile, except that it was a little colder. The metal seemed to take the mild temperature of the area and force it to plummet to possibly sub-zero degrees, but this was only Ryan’s assumption. The iron used was old and had been exposed to the waters of this cavern and possibly others more than once; rust was forming in several of the iron rods that served to keep its prisoners inside, there were no nails that Ryan could see and there appeared to be no door, so how he’d get out was as complexing as how he’d got in. There was a faint scent of something very sickly and then very sour flowing through the air, constantly changing and contrasting with itself and though there was something very drawing about whatever was being brewed, Ryan had no intention of staying for dinner. Ryan had been forced into the corner of the iron ice-box with his arms pressed flat against each other by thick ropes of what could’ve been a metal python or heavily laid-on barbed wire, right now it wasn’t drawing blood and Ryan had no intention of allowing it to – after all, it’s not like he needed his arms to cast a spell. Now, if only he could remember the spell to unlock, something about locks and binds and – something else. Ryan shook his head when he couldn’t remember it and a look of annoyance crossed his features at his own incompetence. Then, he remembered something else! His eyes! Calumn claimed that Ryan could see everything and anything he wanted to, so why couldn’t he see the Unlocking Spell in the Book. Again, Ryan shuffled slightly and began to breathe calmly, having never been this specific with his power before, he was a little unsure as to whether it would work or not, but he knew if he focused it could work.

Ryan steadied his breathing and closed his brown eyes and simply thought about the spell in the Book, he focused in on the spell, he tried to remember the spell. He could feel the power in his eyes, the tightening and loosening of his retina as they adjusted to perfection. Finally, he opened his eyes again. They were the same Divine Eyes as always, the way they twitched was like watching a blind man searching for something in a painting, constantly shuddering ever so slightly despite his vision being perfectly still. Ryan thought again to the Book and attempted to search it and, for a second, he was in his attic; he was standing behind the podium with the Book right in front of him, ready to be searched through, when a hot white flash burst through Ryan’s sight. For the first time, the Sight had been blinded with a light that actually hurt Ryan’s eyes, so much to the point that he thought they were already bleeding. However, that wasn’t where the pain was coming from; the sharp, stabbing, poisonous pain firing lines throughout his body, like an entire nest of severely pissed of hornets had been shaken up inside his body and now they were exacting revenge on his entire system. Ryan threw himself out of the corner as the pain surged through him, exploding and stinging and burning within him. He had pushed himself away from the corner and had flung himself forward but, without free arms to catch him, he ended up smashing his left cheek straight into the icy, grey floor of the cage. The pain was still firing around his body, but Ryan was beginning to isolate the source to the most obvious point. His arms. His cold, shaking, bleeding arms that had been wrapped in what he would now confirm is very thick barbed wire. The pain must’ve caused some kind of reaction because his arms were shaking madly and they failed to stop under Ryan’s cognitive command, he could only just about see the red liquid trickling down from his wrists to his fingertips and onto the floor where it was sure to make a puddle soon enough. The pain had been unexplained so far, but the white flash in his eyes had nearly subsided so it didn’t blind him anymore, but it still didn’t let him see anything until he gave up on the Book, at which point his was consciously back inside the cage, however much he didn’t want to be. There was a low, deep chuckle from outside the cage and Ryan was startled enough to push his forearms back into some of the barbs. Ryan winced harshly at the new pain throbbing inside of him. The chuckle started up again and Ryan wanted to react again, but he knew he had to be careful. So, instead of getting up, Ryan breathed again, attempting to ignore the pain still coursing through his veins, arteries, muscles and bones and focused on finding the voice. His still inverted eyes began to search the cage, but found nothing, so Ryan began to look out through the bars, but it was far too dark to see anything that was so consistently dressed in black. So, Ryan decided to look outside the cage, which was when the white flash burst back into Ryan’s eyes and the pain that surged into him was new and felt as though it was now ripping something out of Ryan’s body. Ryan didn’t know what it would’ve taken, but he was certain that it should stay where it was. Again, Ryan hurled himself in an attempt to escape the pain and ended up facing the exact opposite way, with the opposite cheek now threatening to turn blue against the arctic temperature floor. Ryan’s breathing was ragged and bruised with gaps in inhalation and inflections aplenty. The chuckle returned louder and crueller than before, but it was laced with an amusement that couldn’t be denied by either party.

“Perhaps,” the same voice from the bus stop! “I should let you in on the secret.”

Ryan said nothing, but he was sure he needed to know what his kidnapper was about to say.

“Those are a very different kind of handcuffs to the ones you’re probably familiar with,” his voice was taunting and haunting and dipped in pleasure. “They’re special, as is this cage. You see, the cage creates the worst environment for whoever’s inside, which, for you, appears to be the cold, but that’s rather simple. The cuffs are the impressive part; the cuffs are much the same in the way that they take shape of what would disable you best; they stop magic from leaving the cage, so when you try to do it, it injects a poison into you that would kill a Mortal instantly and a Mammoth in five seconds. However, as I’m sure you know, Witches like you are immune to the majority of poisons and a lot of the powers that we Demons can brew down here, so instead of killing you, it’s just going to make you wish you were dead. So, try not to look outside too much, the Bounty for you alive is so much more than you dead, you wouldn’t believe it.”

Ryan was still catatonic from the pain and the shock, but now it was also because of the speech and all the information he had to ingest all at once. Immunity to Demon Powers would certainly explain why he didn’t freeze along with everyone else, but the poison that was in his body now was still excruciatingly painful and the knowledge that it wasn’t deadly wasn’t nearly as appeasing as it should’ve been. Ryan’s eyes were useless, so he relaxed and let them return to normal, but he still couldn’t remember the spell to unlock. All of this together meant there was only one thing left to de done: Wait for Help. 

10: Power of 3

The Power of 3

10/11/03

By the time Connor had arrived at the school’s gates 10 minutes later, Lilith was already scaling the house in her usual fashion, but now with a face of stone determination. When she reached Ryan’s window on the first floor, she repressed the urge to knock and wait for Ryan to open it to her, instead she gripped the bottom of the white windowpane and pushed it up swiftly. She glided into the room with the practiced grace of a Great Thief and strode across the carpeted floor, but she wasn’t here to be graceful, she was here to try and find clues to her best friend and, with Connor’s advice, she knew to start in the attic. Of course she scanned the bedroom as he walked, but she already knew that she wouldn’t find anything in there; she was in that room so often that she’d notice a change, however subtle, just as much as she would in her own bedroom – and Lilith always knew when someone had been in her room. Always.

She charged purposely out of the room and followed to respective corridors to the thin staircase that led up to the attic she’d never been able to open, despite her strength. She remembered having come close once before when she was 13; Ryan’s parents had gone out and Lilith had come over to keep him company and she made it her mission to force the door wide open, locked or not. She’s thrown herself against the door so much that any normal child would’ve had black and blue bones, but she continued even beyond that point, she’d punched the door, kicked the door, for ten minutes at each time she’d resorted to simply glaring at the door mixed with the occasional murmur of ‘Open Sesame’. And the entire time, Ryan just watched her with a nervous, grateful smile as he watched his best friend try and force open the mystery that had plagued his home since he’d arrived, he even brought her juice and biscuits every hour or two, which she ate hurriedly before returning to the task in hand, at which point he would simply sit there with a First Aid Kit he knew he’d never open for Lilith and letting out the occasional gasp of horror or surprise when he thought Lilith had had a particularly bad knock back, as if the door itself was magnetically repelling her onslaught of barrages. Eventually, at ten o’clock that night, the door creaked and Lilith felt the end of the door’s resistance beginning to show; she continued her bombardment of swift kicks and blows until finally a horrendous crack and snap of age-old, splintering wood burst forth from the door, with one more powerful jab from Lilith, the door would be smashed all the way through, but just as she raised her fist behind her head, the shifting of the locks could be heard downstairs upon the Graham’s return, both Lilith and Ryan looked down the stairwell, though they were fully aware that they could not see his parents entering, it was just a habit upon the sound, then when Lilith turned back and raised her fist that was covered in dried blood and healed scabs from hours before she was alarmed to see the door was in a complete and unblemished condition, without so much as a light scratch or half a dent to prove Lilith’s valiant efforts. She was breathing heavily before she realised she was breathing at all, but she seemed unable to face the door as she turned her long, brunette hair away from the threshold that challenged her so dramatically. She said goodbye to Ryan there and then, not even taking into account how apologetic he looked at her and she ran home right away to her-

‘Dad…’ she hummed in her head just as she was about to turn into the upward corridor. She stopped for a second before shaking her head and continuing her mission. She set foot at the bottom of the staircase and looked up at her old opponent. She narrowed her eyes sharply and gritted her teeth, she directed her next statement to nobody alive, but at the door and continuously punched her open palm as she did so.

“You. Me. One Punch.”

Lilith, having readied herself for the task and properly warned the door, took the first step on the staircase and found herself a few inches away from the threshold. Her head snapped to adjust to the angle of the door and her position in accordance to it. She looked around at the staircase wide-eyed and uncertain.

“The f-” she muttered to herself when the doorknob began to hum and glow. The changes were minute and it was probably only because of her animalistic-level senses that she noticed them, but she couldn’t deny a low, monotone humming and a full-body shimmer across the dented brass. There was a certain allure to these strange effects in the old metal that Lilith found she couldn’t resist, her hand had already begun to drift slowly from her being clenched at her side to open and searching for the metal now only a hair breadth away. Suddenly realising what she was doing, she halted her movements and questioned what she was about to do with great scrutiny; whats, whys and hows were floating all around her head like a viscous liquid being poured into her brain, slowing down all cognitive functions to a snail’s pace, but Lilith was always proud to follow her instinct, knowing it had never lead her wrong before. Quickly, she latched her hand onto the doorknob and the hum became the hiss of scalding flesh. She snatched back her hand and fanned it uselessly, biting her lip to stop any noise escaping her lips, but her eyes conveyed the hate she had for this door and how much it had just intensified. She looked down at her hand and her wrath turned to perplexion; she had been accustomed to her immense, regenerative ability since she was 13, turning gashes and scars into scratches and memories in seconds, but the red that covered her hand was lingering and she could feel the white of the circle now embedded in her hand beginning to settle, as though it planned to stay exactly where it was for as long as it so pleased. She stared for the longest minutes she’d ever experienced, as she watched herself heal relatively slowly, the red returned to the fair skin she remembered her palm to be and she watched longer for the circle to do the same, but it only got as far as a faint brown ring about the size of plum, but perfectly shaped. She continued to stare until she was forced to realise that it wasn’t going away, at least not yet, so she returned to the matter at hand. She was tempted to reach for the doorknob, but didn’t want to risk it. So, she kicked it. The wood exploded under the force of Lilith’s might heel boot, she tore through the material like a bullet through paper, but with twice the explosive force behind it. She grinned maniacally at her success as she watched the splintered wood fly and crumple to the ground without restraint; 16 years of fortitude against all attempts at unlocking and finally Lilith managed to break it down and with one swift movement no less – discounting her previous action. Most of the door had now been torn out, though a lot of the edges remained edged in the threshold tightly, but Lilith took this as a win as she stepped through the man-sized hole and entered the one part of her second home that she’d never ventured into. She wasn’t entirely disappointed by what she found, she’d imagined a lot of books, which there were plenty, and she always knew there’d be irrelevant bric-a-brac lying around here, but she had imagined the walls to be bare, revealing the wooden beams of the house, perhaps tufts of the insulation poking out of a bad cover job, but the walls had been well preserved and remained the white that they’d been painted so many years ago, but they hadn’t been exposed to the childhood versions of either Ryan or Lilith, especially Lilith who would’ve made it black or red or grey during her crayon/paint/felt tip phase(s). There was another hum circling the room, louder this time and higher, like the solo of an angel testing how long they could hold a note. Lilith perked up her ears to listen for the source and she quickly found a trail. She focused on a podium and upon it, a book. Bathed in a warm, sunny light with streams of dust floating around in it, Lilith identified that book with the high hum she was hearing. She quickly stalked over to the book and stared at the closed cover, touching and feeling the rough, but soft texture of the cover.

The Book of Bones.

The name seemed to resonate with her on a level she couldn’t understand, but she had already started to turn pages. She flicked past pages on Demons, Warlocks, Creatures and at least a hundred Spells, the significance of which she didn’t understand or care for, she was simply searching for something that would help her find Ryan like Connor implied that it would. Lilith was quickly frustrated and slammed her hands down furiously onto two open pages, she looked down at them and read both titles; the left was an entry called ‘To Use a Witches Power’ and the right was called ‘To Follow a Trail’. Lilith skim-read both pages and when she was done, she gritted her teeth and narrowed her eyes to an animalistic rage before she turned and smashed her fists into the wall with a hardened grunt. She tried to breathe deeply to calm herself down, but found she began to warp the deep breaths into angry pants and she again smashed at wall, bringing down high heaps of dust that had been trapped in the ceiling. She raised her head when the shower of dust had stopped, face still full of anger and frustration.

“Damn it!” she yelled skywards, as if asking God himself. “How do you find a lost-”

Swiftly the sound of flapping pages could be heard and they caught Lilith by surprise. Her face relaxed as she turned around to watch the pages of the book she’d been reading fly around, but there was easily too many pages to be possibly within the book, which made Lilith want to both step backwards and forwards, away and towards the Book. As quickly as the pages turned, they fell flat down on a particular entry, but now Lilith was unsure of whether or not she really wanted to see. Remembering Ryan, she steeled her nerves and squared her shoulders as she walked up to the book and read the entry’s title, reading it she almost laughed at the wording:

‘To Find A Lost Witch’

~\*/~

Connor had sent Stan back to wherever it was that he went after dropping him off everyday and ran, without hesitance, through the school and searched every classroom in every building he could find on the school grounds; he checked the Art rooms, the DT rooms, the Drama Studio, the English rooms, the Maths rooms, the Language rooms, the Science labs, the Sports fields, the bathrooms, the supply closets, the Teacher’s Lounge, Reception, Admissions, Lost and Found. On his way in and out of a French class, he even learnt the phrase ‘Le Petit Baiseur’ from a very grouchy Monsieur Arnoult, at which only the French exchange student laughed at before explaining it to whomever was sitting next to her, but Connor was already about to search the next classroom by the time she had.

Connor’s face was a picture of fright and worry, as if he would burst into tears if he stopped running and searching for Ryan. He came out onto the Quad and looked around to think of a building he hadn’t already searched. He snapped to the left and remembered that he hadn’t checked the rooms behind the Science building where they kept all the larger lab or outdoor equipment. He ran around the white, square building and near galloped down the slanting slope before turning right into a wide alleyway made between the main Science building and the garage like accomplice that was called the Science Storage Room. The windows were large and paned with white, but they were blocked out by dusty, black material that allowed little to no light inside. Connor didn’t hesitate to try and look through these infamously opaque windows and simply punched in the code to the door that the teachers didn’t acknowledge every student knew. He jerked open the door and threw himself inside into the lightless air of the bungalow. The air was heavy and slightly damp, but it was very cold, even for November, there was a sense of total lifelessness here that didn’t stem from death, but form sheer lack of any life. Even the insects or whatever else that could’ve inhabited these walls had left long ago, which Connor was secretly glad to feel, but it still made everything a lot less…easy, wasn’t the right word – comfortable was better. The walls had once been a clean white, but it was impossible to tell what they were now without night vision. Connor again found himself thinking about Ryan, knowing just how useful he would’ve been in here if the roles were reversed. Then, there was a sudden noise, like a click or a crackle and Connor tossed his head around to his left and slowly crept up to where he thought the noise was coming from. He tried to move as stealthily as possible and the floor didn’t betray him like it might've in his own home or like it definitely would in Ryan’s. Connor turned the corner around and glanced around the room; there were tons of boxes all layered on top of one another, some were open, most were closed, but they all held useless articles, otherwise they wouldn’t be in here. The only things that were regularly used was the room to the right of the entrance where they kept some of the chunkier pieces of machinery that they occasionally pulled out to vaguely impress 20% of a GCSE class. Connor was in the room that held a lot of out-dated or worn out paraphernalia that may once have been classed as useful or may have always been a pointless article, but was never cared for enough to be thrown away. The air was heavier here than in the entrance and the room felt darker too, although how that was possible wasn’t clear, nothing was clear in this room, but Connor didn’t necessarily need to see. He could feel someone’s emotions near the door, but behind it. He felt an overwhelming confidence that could’ve been called arrogance if it didn’t make Connor feel so assured that it wasn’t, there was a beautifully calm serenity tied in with the confidence that gave Connor such a light, luxurious feel that he didn’t want to ever let it go. He closed his eyes and let the sensation wrap around him.

Ryan.

The name suddenly rang through Connor’s mind, as if his instinct was to remember that Ryan was the reason he was here. He forced himself to reject the wonderfully intoxicating emotions he was experiencing, despite the fact that they felt tailor-made to make Connor feel simply exquisite, as though the feeling had been designed by angels purely to make Connor want to never stop wanting this same feeling, despite the fact-

Ryan.

The name ran again and pulled Connor back from his love affair with these mysterious emotions and back to his mission. The sensation still enveloped him, but he forced himself to unravel himself from its allure and focus. The presence behind the door was still there and seemed entirely calm. Too calm to have nay inkling that it was being spied on. This gave Connor the element of surprise should he need it. So, with a slow and quiet movement, he gently lifted his arms up and, as expected, felt himself disconnect from gravity and float up above the ground, nearer to the ceiling, but still behind the door. Of course, up until now, Connor may have seemed very graceful, but there was unfortunate downfall to this new idea of his; when he levitates he can’t move himself – he can rotate on the spot, but he can’t move around – this meant that he had to grab a hold of the door and push himself around the wood of the door, which he managed to do just noisily enough that he thought that the person would at least feel surprised, if not act it, but they did neither. There was no change in his emotion, as if he remained completely ignorant to Connor’s manoeuvres. Tactfully, swinging himself around the door, Connor laid eyes on the hunched over back of the figure in the room. The sight looked like a plain egg-shaped mass of dark green leather; an article that both confused and intrigued Connor as he felt the urge to move closer. Then, the top portion of the mass moved, as if tensing its shoulders, which Connor now recognised as such. The mass then showed a second, brown mass rise up from where it had been hunched over something on the floor. Clearly now, it was a human form before Connor, but there was something Connor didn’t like about it. This person was here in an abandoned room of a school that had lessons in progress; the leather jacket told Connor that it wasn’t a student and definitely not staff and, as the strangely soothing wafts of emotion emanated from him, Connor felt too comfortable to trust the situation. Then, with a sound like smooth milk chocolate mixed with honey and a pinch of salt to draw out the sweet flavours:

“Calm down, Cupid,” the voice was both patronising and validating “I’m only here to collect something of mine.”

Connor was taken aback to be so quickly found out and without even a hint of surprise that Connor could detect. However, there was still something in the room that Connor couldn’t trust and so he raised his hands to conjure his bow and arrow.

“Don’t bother with that,” the figure had stood up straight; the leather jacket was long and smooth, trailing down near the figures ankles, their trousers were black as night and his leather shoes were white as light and unscuffed. His hair was a light brown, but at the very bottom of some of the strands Connor could see around his face, there seemed to be traces of another lighter colour – pink perhaps? “Your arrows don’t hurt me.”

Connor thought for a second before slowly lowering his hands again whilst the figure before him turn around.

He was very attractive. His hair was the exact right place between short and long with strands of it here and there that would’ve seemed like ‘Bed Head’ and undesirable on someone else, but on him appeared as a ‘Sexy Messy’ effect, but, as Connor had seen, the longer locks of hair had been dyed with either hot pinks or leaf greens. His smile was full of perfectly sized and shaped gleaming white teeth that, with any trace amount of light, would’ve shone like in the adverts. His skin was flawless and slightly tanned, like he’d been in the sun just long enough to bronze himself to perfection, without becoming dark enough to look like he was in Britain illegally although thinking about it, Connor realised that nothing about him looked distinct to any specific region of the world, not British or European, Asian or American, not from the North or the South, East or West, but like a subtlety of each had been melted down into human form. His eyes were the strangest of all; they were a beautiful and radiant and clear colour, as if they were completely blank, but Connor could see, behind what looked like a layer of smoke, that there was an entire spectrum of colours bouncing and rebounding off of each other constantly moving and intercepting each other in a fabulous battle of both beauty and boldness. His outfit was also strange, but handsomely fitting; the leather jacket swayed gracefully around his lithe form as a tamed snake coils around the arm of its owner, his trousers contrasted starkly with his shoes, going from black as night to white as snow. He was wearing a crisp, white Victorian cravat tucked into a gorgeously woven, deep red waistcoat with all its buttons done up. In all essences, the boy’s fashion was inconceivably abstract and seemingly detached from one style to another, but upon him it all clicked together and neither man nor woman could deny that he was absolutely-

“Pulchritudinous,” the voice constructed by angels born in Eden floated confidently through Connor’s ears. Connor looked him dead in his grinning eyes. “That’s what the last gentleman I met addressed me as, it’s also my Word of the Day. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to use it.”

And Connor absolutely hated him.

“Who are you?” Connor demanded, surprised by the sudden anger in his voice, but he didn’t regret it in the slightest. The other boy seemed unaffected by his hostility.

“I am me,” he spoke softly and confidently with a cute curve in his lips that made a darling smirk. “And I know that you are you-” there seemed to be a puase of thought, like he was trying to remember something when he said “Connor.”

Connor was taken aback by this, however the shock only served to fuel his unprovoked wrath for this character, as he gritted his teeth and resisted the urge to growl. It was like an animal instinct had awoken within Connor and its primary desire was to tear this man apart.

“What’s your name?” Connor emphasised every  word through his teeth. “Demon.”

The man laughed shortly and shook his head genlty before looking back to Connor with a kind smile. “I’m no demon, child. In fact, I’d like to help you.”

“What!” he venom in Connor’s voice was as apparent as in a snake’s bite, but the character still seemed unconcerned.

“Your friend, the Witch, is being held captive in the Underworld by a Demon named Tristan,” the character began to walk towards Connor, but didn’t look at him until they were right next to each other. “He’s bound by a magic that he can’t escape from the inside, so you need to go down to him with a spell to unlock. If I’m correct, which I am, your other… friend, let’s call her that, has found a way to locate your Witch, but you’ll need something of a Witch to get down there.”

He was now next to Connor’s still levitating body, so he looked up to see the evil Connor had in his eyes, but he simply smiled.

“Lapsus.” He said quietly to the room, but loud enough for Connor to just about hear what he was saying. Suddenly, gravity’s binding chains seemed to latch back onto Connor and drag him down to the ground. He landaded on his feet, but quickly fell to his knees on impact. He stretched his arms out to break help his blanace and stop from smashing his teeth into the ground. As he landed, Connor noticed a small, pale orange box before right underneath him. It was only big enough to fit perhaps a small piece of jewellery,  but it didn’t seem like the type of box to keep anything expensive in; it was made of flimsy looking plastic that you could break up in your hands and it seemed too plain for anything of any worth to be kept in. However, Connor had only been falling a moment ago and he was sure that it wasn’t beneath him when he’d fallen. He quickly shot his head around to look at the mystery man, but he was already gone. It was then that Connor’s empathy stopped picking up his trail, as if he had been there just until Connor had turned around and then he’d never been there at all. With another growl brewing in his larynx, Connor snatched the tiny box from the floor and burst out of the Storgae room and sprinted out onto the road where Stan had dropped him off. Without a second thought about it, Connor was aready running away from the school back towards Ryan’s house.

~\*/~

Lilith was hunched over the Book, scanning the same page for the hundreth time, trying to find some kind of loophole in the spell. Unfortunately, the same line ruined her every chance:

‘Only a Witch may call to a lost Witch.’

But Lilith, in her true nature, refused to accept it. She grasped the thin parchment hard between her fingers and turned the page violently, though the page remained whole, and she began to scour the Book for another way to find Ryan, she flipped through entries of Phoenixes, Merlin, Unicorns, Dragons, Dragon Demons, Dragon Blood, Dragon Angels, Dragon after Dragon, she found pages on a pixies and potions galore; potions for vanquishing, vanishing, summoning, dismissing. This Book was full beyond the brim of magical information and not just Witchcraft. There were full chapters on Demonolgy, Herbology, Voodoo, Gypsies, Hindu Magic, Black Magic, White Magic, Grey Magic, Elemental Magic, Titans, Greek Gods, Egyptian Gods, Loa, Warriors, Knights, Slayers, Cupids-

Lilith stopped with a thin yellow page half turned in her hand as she stared down at the two entries, both seperated by the thin page held upright. On her left was a page dedicated to the Vampire Slayer Species with a depiction of several weapons and charmed jewellery, presumably that to be used by a Slayer. On her right was a page titles in a curving, red font as ‘Cupids’ with a fine illustration of, instead of a semi-naked, chubby cherub, a young man and woman dressed in whites and red each holding a perfectly arched, wooden bows; however, the woman was holding a longbow that would stretch from her toes to her neck, and the man held a much shorted crossbow built up with variations in wood and metal and an arrow already locked into position, ready to aim and fire. Her eyes flicked between the two pages, as if unsure which to read first. She quickly decided to release her grip on the separating page and let it fall where it may. She watched as the lack of breeze pushed the page in neither direction, but gravity decided that Lilith should learn her own history before someone else’s. The open book had two entries spread across both pages, so Lilith began to read the entry on Vampire Slayers.

Vampire Slayers first came into being in long before records began, believing to have first risen in European countries that is now Germany, spreading to the larger Vampire colonies in Germany, France, Switzerland, Belgium and Luxembourg. Slayers are, by all biological means, Mortals, but through an ancient alliance with a the White Witch, the Black Warlock and the Wizard Grey, their blood was tainted with Vampiric, Wiccan, Voodoo and Grimoire blood and they were granted their powers: the Physical Attributes of the Vampires; the speed, strength and stamina, they possess fractions of magic, not enough to cast spells, but enough to remain immune to weaker magic and sense magical entities, adding to the heightened senses of the Vampire within them. Like Witches, their power grows through ancestry; the first Slayer family – the Heiligejägerin – are said to be the most powerful Slayer family in the world, capable of tracking down a newly turned Vampire from 10 miles away by their sixth generation of Slayers, and only growing stronger.

Lilith was absorbed in the information about herself and couldn’t drag her eyes aware, she’d dropped all pretences of indifference to this information and her face showed how much she wanted to treasure all this information. She continued to read the next paragraph.

Vampire Slayers have always killed Vampires, but since the 18th Century have been known to attack and vanquish Demons, Warlocks and, until the early 19th Century, Werewolves. However, in 1923, the Alpha de la Alpha, the World Alpha at the time, met with Hubert Heiligejägerin IV and suggested a truce – in regards to a common enemy, the Vampires, Werewolves and Slayers created a global pact to assist each other in the destruction of this common enemy. Since this time, several rules and regualtions have been put into place, the most prominent being that, where Werewolves have marked their territory, a Vampire Slayer would usually be employed to keep either watch or peace between them and any wandering Vampires.

Slayers are a very proud people and are very territorial, quick to attack any offending entrants into their territory and extremely protective over loved ones.

Lilith couldn’t help but smile at that last paragraph, knowing how appropriate it was to her. She remembered, when she was younger, how badly she’d react if anyone ever threatened Ryan, or looked like they would make trouble for him or sometimes just look at him and she would get so defensive. Occasionally, someone new would attempt to intervene in their friendship and Lilith would quickly drive them off, one way or enough. She wore a lopsided expression as she though about it, wondering if she had been overly selfish about Ryan or if perhaps she’s simply enjoyed rejecting other kids or even just being mean, but she looked back down at the page and she shrugged her shoulders, accepting that it was clearly in her nature to be overly-protective of her friends. Perhaps there are somethings you simply can’t help.

Lilith stopped. She snapped her head up to a sound like footsteps near the door. Her eyes narrowed as she recognised the quiet, almost inaudible sound of someone stopping to open the door to the attic. She stared at the door and waited in the silence, as if they were debating whether or not to open the door now they were right outside. She looked around for somewhere to hide, but the room was lined properly with layers and stacks of old book and the biggest thing to hide something inside was an old suitcase that even she couldn’t bend herself into. She began to panic as time seemed to slow down around her, she tossed her head back to the door to see the turn of the bronze knob and she felt her panic rise along with a powerful sense of adrenaline and she could feel her feet practically pushing her off of the ground before she’d even moved in one direction or the other.

~\*/~

Connor held his open palm a few inches away from the dented knob of the door. He was hesitating. Connor didn’t think that there would ever come a point where he could touch the doorknob without stopping to reconsider, despite consciously knowing that it should do him no harm. He felt the blood surge around his body, from his wrist up through his fingers was were he felt the surge’s full effect as the blood, sedated with fear-based adrenaline, coursed through his veins, making his hand shake slightly, but only if you were to look. Then, he remembered that he was searching for Ryan and he set his jaw and forced himself to grip the doorknob hard, almost causing a dent of his own as he jerked the knob over to the right and he forcedly pushed himself through the threshold and into the dimly lit attic. The second Connor stepped into the darkness, he felt something, but it felt like nothing. And it was hot. He stood where he was, the door half-closed behind him, but he didn’t notice, he was too intently focused on this dark, heated sensation of absolute nothing from above his head. Connor quickly jerked his head up and his eyes went wide; fear gripped his heart and stopped its beat for a moment as he looked up at what he saw. He saw limbs outstretched between beams of the attic and tendrils of blood and darkness hanging suspended from a rage warped face that seemed to nearly pull her lip up and back in a snarl, her eyes like daggers laced with poison. Once Connor recognized Lilith he exhaled loudly and held his chest in an attempt to calm himself down, his eyes still wide and pulse racing below his skin.

“My God!” he called, deep breathing ensuing. “Why the hell are you on the ceiling?”

“Because for all I knew, you were a Demon or a Vampire,” Lilith nearly spat down at him. “Or worse, Ryan’s parents.”

Connor stared up at her incredulously. “Really? That’s the worse option?”

“I can kill a Vampire.” She leered harshly. “I can even kill a Cupid. I can’t kill my best friend’s mother.”

Connor shucked back his shoulders and exhaled through his nose, tightening his mouth. “Fine. Fair enough. Now, can you come down here? We need to find Ryan.”

Connor turned to close the door, cutting off a large portion of the light in the room and he wondered how Lilith had managed to navigate through the room in such darkness, but quickly decided that it must be a Vampire Slayer talent to be able to do such things. He turned back around and nearly threw his skeleton out of his skin as he came face to face with an angry half-snarl of Lilith standing right in front of him. He threw himself back against the door by instinct and his breathing became irregular once again, but this time he got irritated himself. He pushed himself off of the wall and was in Lilith’s face as she was in his.

“Ok, seriously, what the hell is your problem?” Connor said angrily, but Lilith didn’t flinch. “Why are you so pissed off all the time?”

“I’m not pissed of all the time.” She said monotonously. “Just when you’re around. Or when Liverpool lose.”

Lilith’s attitude had Connor pissed off to no end and he would’ve slammed his open palms into something if the only available platform hadn’t been Lilith’s face. Of course, he wasn’t stupid enough to slap Lilith across the face, being punched into a stone wall was bad enough the first time and all he’d done then was help, he didn’t want to think about what would happen if he wanted to hurt.

“What have I ever done to you?” he cried with righteous fury, his eyes narrowing. “All I’ve tried to do for the past week is help either you or Ryan, in magic and non-magic way. I don’t understand why you hate me!”

“Because none of you belong here!” Lilith retorted coldly, Connor was taken aback at the statement, but she continued before he could interrupt. “I don’t know your life story, so if you want to walk into this death trap of what can’t even be called a profession, then be my guest, but you’re threatening to bring Ryan into it with you and I won’t let you do that! I told you to leave us alone and you invited us into your car, maybe you were being friendly, but you and I are part of a world that apparently has a target on us and you’re fighting to make Ryan a part of something he doesn’t need to be involved in. That’s why I don’t want you around because you’re dangerous to him.”

Connor would’ve been shocked if it hadn’t been a rehash of what she’d said just before making him bleed from his mouth, after which the sympathy seemed to disappear fairly rapidly, unlike the pain, from which he was still recovering. However, Connor was adamant about his place in ‘this world’ and it had been Ryan who had invited him in, so to find that Lilith, Ryan’s best friend, was trying her utmost to exclude him from it was more of a slap to the face than any insult he could hurl at her. He straightened his face and looked her in the eye.

“You’re scared.” He stated bluntly. Her eyes grew into surprised dinner plates and she almost retorted violently, had it not been for Connor’s continuation. “Don’t deny it. I have the power of Empathy, so I know what you’re feeling underneath what you say. But do you know how I know I have the power of Empathy? Ryan taught me.”

Lilith was already surprised, so her face didn’t have much room to exhibit this new information, but Connor could feel her question it in her mind as he forged on with his point.

“I told you that he saved me from a Demon, how he put himself in between me and certain death, but that made you mad because you think I’m dragging him somewhere he doesn’t belong, but you’re ignoring the knowing in your heart that I can feel from here. You’re not scared that he’ll get involved, you’re scared you won’t be able to protect him,” Connor stated boldly whilst all Lilith did was listen in a horribly honest state of shock. “And even more than that, you’re scared he doesn’t need protecting.”

And that was the closing line. Connor had flat out stated Lilith’s darkest and most ashamed truth with such an earnest look on his face that made Lilith want to smack him around the head, but something locked her muscles in place. She wasn’t glaring at him anymore, she was more staring past him at the door of the attic; the door that had remained shut all that time; keeping the most valuable of secrets from both Ryan and her for 16 years until very recently when Ryan just decided to turn the knob, walk in and find out that he was a part of a world masked as fiction and fairy tales. But he hadn’t told her. If asked, she could do an imitation of him that sounded more like his voice than he did, she could list his favourite whatevers in order of preference and she could sign his name, signature and date of birth backwards with her eyes closed. But he had never told her that he was a Witch, or that he’d unlocked the attic door, or that he’d found a book with every piece of information that he’d ever need to survive. He hadn’t told her that she didn’t need to protect him anymore. Any bullies? Zap. Bad Report? Poof. No car? Bippidi-Boppidi-Boo. Ryan had the world, the universe. The very potential to snap the Laws of Physics in half was at his fingertips now. He didn’t need her. She felt her leg muscles relax a touch too much and she was unsure of her feet’s ability to uphold her for much longer, she began to sway, but she didn’t seem to concerned at the moment as she stumbled back through the poorly lit room, the darkness that she’d ignored before seemed a lot more prominent now and it was starting to scare her; every glance of darkness in every tiny corner of the room was like an expressionless Demon staring down at her with a feasting desire, falling back she saw shadows with glares of light from tiny seeps of sunshine through cracks in the bookcase that had been moved in front of a window, the glares looked to her like menacing eyes and the grins of ghouls that were much too happy to see her. She stumbled backwards, but caught herself on the edge of a bookcase. She didn’t take much notice of the rumble of books that were jolted out of their long-term resting place, some of which were knocked to the floor around her feet and conking against her ankles, but she still didn’t pay attention. Her eyes were wide and staring straight down at the wooden floorboards, something in her head was beginning to count the grains that circled several planks of wood, then she thought of a pirate captain forcing her to walk the plank and jump into shark-infested waters and then she was thinking about sharks and dolphins and how someone had told her that dolphins were gay sharks and she’d laughed at the idea because she thought it was silly, but she told Ryan and for the next few days he’d only refer to her as a ‘straight dolphin’. Ryan came back to the forefront of her mind, despite her desire to ignore it, repress it, turn it into an unhealthy fuel for her hockey, but she couldn’t. She looked up from the floorboards towards Connor, who had moved closer apparently, because she thought he said something. She looked at him with a wild, blank stare and so he repeated.

“Ryan needs our help.”

There was a lack of understanding behind her eyes as she struggled to fathom what was being said, the words were obviously of her own mother tongue, but their order sounded perfectly foreign, like they’d jumbled themselves across the air. There was so much doubt in Lilith’s heart that she’d learnt to ignore, to sublimate, and now it was all rising up to the surface in the most aggressive manner she’d ever thought possible. Again, Connor said something, but had to repeat himself when faced with Lilith’s lost gaze.

“If we work together we can save him.” He was trying not to shout in her face, anger and pity mixing in his voice, but it fell on deaf ears and he was staring into big, blind eyes. Lilith was losing herself in a mesh of words that made no sense inside her own head and it was drowning her in a sea of nonsensical madness. Then, there was a slice in the air and sharp, hard crack filled the room like a clean rip of paper and somehow Lilith was looking away from Connor out to a shadowed corner of the room were dust fluttered like tiny fairies relaxing downwards and there was a warming, tingling sensation spreading across her left cheek. Then, there were hands on her shoulders, pulling her attention back to Connor who was bearing teeth in irritation.

“Lilith!” he bellowed, “this is for Ryan!”

Lilith remained dumb for a few more seconds, but the alien language she’d been struggling to translate made out one clear word in her head and it began to tug her back to full consciousness. Lilith’s wide eyes started to narrow and her unexpectedly blurred vision focused sharply on Connor’s face, once full of bravery and impatience that was now turning to forced courage and an instinct to run, her jaw set and she felt her posture adjust to an upright position. She raised her chin as she stared accurately into Connor’s eyes. She nodded and rose from her position against the bookcase and strode back over to the Book lying on the podium. She flicked her neck to toss her loose hair back over her shoulder and slapped her hands decisively on the parchment before looking back up to Connor.

“There’s a spell here to find a lost Witch,” she croaked a little on the first word, but the rest was dark and strong, like an oak tree. “But we need a Witch to cast it.”

Connor wanted to address the drastic change in her behaviour, but decided that it would probably extend his lifespan if he remained silent on the subject. He crossed the room whilst fishing something out of his pocket. He plucked up the pale, orange box and wrapped it into his palm before holding his arm out, indicating for Lilith to take it. She opened her palm and Connor dropped the box into her possession, without a moment’s hesitation, Lilith dug her fingers into cracks between the vertices of the box and tore the weak cardboard material that built it. She brazenly gripped a small object in her hand and exhibited it to both herself and Connor. It was a disk. It was smaller than a CD, about 7cm in diameter, half an inch thick and made of smooth, sleek silver that appeared unblemished by fingerprints or dents, as if it the box had always been empty and it had simply popped into existence upon Lilith retrieval of the object. The disc rested flat on Lilith’s palm and shone, even in the half-light of the curtain-drawn attic, and it cast a bright glare across the opposite wall. The disc was still and beautifully plain, but Lilith’s ears pricked up to something and Connor noticed a suspicion emanating from her.

“What’s wrong?” he asked quickly. Her answer was hesitant, but it was certain as she whispered.

“It’s humming.”

Suddenly, the disc flicked itself into the air and began to spin very quickly before spouting out two wings of equal dimensions and of the same beautiful element. However, the wings differed to the body in a very obvious way; the wings made a complete circle, but the circle was smoothly, yet unevenly filled by the lustrous metal, they both created opposite facing crescent shapes, like moons who refused to talk to one another. The light gleamed off all three sections of the gorgeous artefact and both Connor and Lilith were mesmerized by it.

Lilith was first to pull back, she pushed the luminous artifice into Connor’s hands and watched from the corner of her eye as his eyes danced around the light it reflected, just like some people did in accordance to the real moon. Lilith made her hands remember the direction in which to flick the thin parchment pages and eventually she came across the entry that was titled ‘How to Find A Lost Witch’. She quickly read past the paragraph describing what the spell did and looked down at the poem that had been inscribed, she recited:

‘A Child of Night and Day you seek,

Though Mortal search does prove bleak.

Place and Time this Witch may be,

Take me, take me, oh take me to thee.’

Lilith heard the words rebound off the four walls of the room and waited for something to happen, her eyes darting around the room in anticipation of something; a gust of wind, a burst of fire, a moving shadow, sparkly lights, literally anything, but she got nothing. For another moment she searched the room, but there was still nothing for her to witness, by this point Connor had grown somewhat accustomed to the attractive nature of the silver moons and was too looking around expectantly. He looked over to her, but she looked down at the Book. She re-read the lines in and out of her head, but nothing seemed to happen at all.

“Why isn’t it working?” Connor asked quietly, but Lilith could only say that she didn’t know. They both looked down at the text in an attempt to find the answer to their question, but it wasn’t hidden at all. In clear bold text, it read that only Witches could cast the spell and they both sighed in disappointment, then Connor remembered. “That guy also said that we’d need a Witch…”

“What guy?” Lilith immediately looked over to Connor with an expression of irritated curiosity that Connor couldn’t ignore.

“When I was looking for Ryan at the school, I found a guy that seemed to know a lot, but he disappeared before I had a chance to interrogate him at all,” Connor explained. Lilith guffawed and, when Connor asked why, explained that she didn’t think Connor could interrogate his way out of a paper bag, but Connor continued, “he said that we’d need something of a Witch to get to Ryan.”

“And where did you get the box?” Lilith asked.

“It was there when he left,” Connor answered immediately.

Lilith stared at him for a minute with her lips tightened into a tiny space and her eyes bore through Connor’s face and sent a tiny chill down his spine and into his soul. He looked nervous and quickly racked his brain for a reason as to why Lilith was staring at him so intently. Just before he was about to overload with unrealistic answers, he felt a quick, dull tap against his temple and saw Lilith’s raised arm and open palm, he automatically put his right hand to his temple and pouted, saying ‘ow’, but before he could ask why he’d been hit, Lilith interjected.

“You’re an idiot,” she stated bluntly.

“What?” Connor’s eyes were wide with panic as his brain began inverting itself to try and find a possibility that he’d missed, but he couldn’t think of one.

“A mysterious guy who knows about Witches shows up and tells you that you need something of a Witch to use a spell and then a box with a magically extending item inside appears right in front of you,” Lilith was direct and unhappy, “do you see any kind of connection?”

“Not real- Oh…” it suddenly dawned on him and he felt absolutely stupid, not that he was going to get sympathy from Lilith who looked like she wanted to hit him again, she almost definitely did, but restrained herself.

Lilith took a deep breath and relaxed her shoulders; she then put out her open palm as a silent request for their ‘something of a Witch’ and instructed him to hold onto one of the wings, whilst she gripped the other. She looked back down at the spell written in excellent calligraphy before her. But before she recited the spell again, she looked over to Connor and got his attention, leaned over to whisper in his ear and she said:

“Just so you know,” it was barely audible, but Connor would never be more certain of hearing anything else than what she said. “If you ever slap me again, I will rip off your testicles. No threat, I will, straight up, grab them and rip them off.”

If there was a good response to that, Connor did not have it, so when Lilith told him to recite the spell with her, he obliged without hesitation.

‘A Child of Night and Day you seek,

Though Mortal search does prove bleak.

Place and Time this Witch may be,

Take me, take me, oh take me to thee.’

Now, there was a stir in the air that even Connor could feel. It was a rush of wind and heat and cold and a power that made them feel like it was late at night despite being late in the morning. There was a gentle tingle at both their fingertips, where their hands made contact with the silver. The tingle quickly burst out from the silver moons and fired up their arms before shattering into shards of silver magic firing to various parts of their bodies. The tingles turned to shivers and to shudders and then suddenly the blazing, icy wind warped and wrapped so tightly around the two that they were quickly lost in the senses; Lilith couldn’t hear or see anything that wasn’t right in front of her and the only emotions Connor could feel were his own. This magic was certainly more powerful than any one of them and it was taking them somewhere, somewhere they didn’t know, but what they did know was that the wind was quickly getting less icy by the second.

~\*/~

Ryan had managed to move to lie on his back without hurting himself too much and his breathing was normal. He would occasionally think that his Witch blood had broken down enough of the poisons in his system that he could move without too much pain, it had not. He could move if he needed to, but there was both little desire to move and little necessity in the task. He barely noticed how dry his lips were as he stared up at the grey ceiling on his cell roof; he deducted that by how it had swung slightly when he’d moved before that his cell was suspended, unfortunately his lack of physics knowledge made that information massively useless and so he’d decided that if any help did eventually come that it would be better if he wasn’t on Death’s Door when they did come. Besides, if the Demon wanted to sell him off like he said, he’d have to be let out of this cage eventually, it was way too heavy to transport, so Ryan would strike then and free himself. But something told him that he’d be much better off if someone came to rescue him before that. The whole room was still cloaked in an impenetrable darkness and, without his eyes, he was as good as a blind tour guide.

Then, there was a change in the air. Ryan raised his arms slowly and winced slightly as the pricks inside this barbwire arm-prison gently stabbed his skin, but his movements were gentle enough not to break the skin – again. Witches don’t heal particularly faster than Mortals without a spell or potion, but Ryan seemed to heal very quickly against his handcuffs, Ryan remembered reading somewhere that some poisons have healing side-effects, these usually result in a prolonged torture, but here it was giving him the chance to break down the poisons already inside him without having to fear for even more coming through an unguarded barrier into his system. Ryan gently sat up and, without the use of his arms, tucked his calves underneath him and sat up on his knees, eager to look for what had triggered the change in the air. Of course, there was the voice in the back of his mind that told him that he was most likely getting excited over the return of his Demon captor, but something else told him to remain optimistic that it might be his saviour. There was a rush of cold wind that breezed across Ryan’s face and it reminded him that it was very hot down here, he just refused to take notice of it due to the direness of his general situation, but now the cool air felt like a blessing from heaven. Ryan eagerly awaited seeing who it was that was coming to his rescue; a knight in shining armour, a powerful mage with a staff made from oak with a jewel this size of Ryan’s head embedded as the tip.

“What the hell was that?” came a voice from the darkness. It sounded male.

“Obviously, that’s how the spell works! It’s says ‘take me to thee’, what did you think was gonna happen?” came another voice. It was definitely Lilith’s.

Ryan was suddenly unsure of whether or not he was happy about who was coming to save him now and, for a second, he began to calculate his odds of surviving if he just stayed in the cage compared to if he tried to escape with these two and their bickering. Had it not been for Lilith appearing out of the darkness and her face emerging to view, Ryan wasn’t sure which way he would’ve gone.

“Ryan!” she exclaimed and excitement filled her face and Ryan could only reciprocate.

“Lilith!” he called out to her and wanted to hug her, but was swiftly reminded of what was binding him, but he’d tried to move his arms and so his skin had been pierced and more of the poison, which could’ve been lava for all the that pain told him. He seethed mercilessly; draining out what little moisture might have remained in his mouth all this time. He wanted to drop to the ground, but remained where he was in a rigid position for the sake of not inducing more pain on himself.

“Ryan!” Lilith called again, but her excitement had disappeared and been replaced with a fret that didn’t suit her at all. Ryan would’ve tried to joke about it had it not been for the loud, deliberate footsteps that emanated from somewhere else in the darkness. Lilith tossed her head back toward the shadows, but even she couldn’t pinpoint where the sound was coming from, as if it the Demon was coming in from every direction except from the direction he was coming from.

“Lilith! Get out of here!” Ryan called to her from inside his cell, but she didn’t flinch. “Lilith! You have to leave! He’s got me, but you can still run! However you got here, use it and get back! Lilith!”

She ignored him and clenched her fists, raised them and felt ready to fight anything. Then, like the air had suddenly turned on her, nothing grabbed her and flung her upwards, forcing her to fade through the grating of the cell that melted like water around her before becoming solid again as she crashed down onto the cold, grey floor. Ryan was already leaning over her, trying to check if she was all right without moving his arms too much. Then, there was a cry of panic as a second body was flung through the gratings, they seemed to become ethereal for a moment, until the body was all the way through, at which point they became unbreakable once more. However, this one didn’t stop, the boy flew from one end of the cell to the other and was struck by a force of mass electricity that ran cruelly through his jerking body. He fell like a lump into the floor and the contact made a clearly audible sound that rebounded through the cage, but died once it met the darkness. Ryan finally recognized Connor as the male body collapsed on the ground, Ryan felt obliged to make sure that he was all right, but didn’t feel like he could leave Lilith alone, in the centre of the cage. So, he stayed where he was, but he called out to Connor and felt only marginally better when he mumbled a pain-riddled reply to the affirmative.

So, now they were all locked in this cage and all hope felt lost.

~\*/~

They’d all gathered together near a corner of the cage, trying to keep their spirits up by being physically united as a front (Ryan’s idea, of course), but the silence that had come after ‘Are you OK? Yes.’ Was only ever going to be so pleasing. There had to be a way for them to escape, but it didn’t seem like there was. Neither Lilith nor Connor had been put in handcuffs, but the Demon Tristan had disappeared, so Ryan assumed that they wouldn’t have to wait long to join the trend he was trying not to set. Of their huddle, Ryan was in the centre with Lilith leaning on his right shoulder and Connor just off to his left; Ryan noticed that they weren’t fighting, which he forced himself to believe was a good thing, barely convincing himself that silence was better than savagery towards one another. However, that left a very cold silence that contrasted far too greatly with the vast humidity of the place itself. The air was still a sweltering hot after the cool effect that had brought Lilith and Connor down here evaporated, but now it was all the more noticeable. Lilith was staring down at the barbwire chains wrapped around Ryan’s forearms with malice and disgust, he’d forbidden her from touching them before they learnt of Vampire Slayer’s defences against poison, Connor was under the same directive, but reacted by trying his best not to look at Ryan’s bonds, so as to stop himself from trying to tear them off anyway. Suddenly, a desire to break the silence absorbed Ryan as it had when they were walking away from the Diner only yesterday. He raised his head and gave a nervous glance around to each of them.

“I don’t suppose either of you brought down the spell to unlock?” he queried in hopeless faith. Lilith was quiet and discreetly shook her head into his shoulder without looking up, but Connor’s head snapped up and he looked dead ahead with a face full of shock and regret, like when a teacher asks for your homework and you suddenly realise it’s not in your bag. Or done. Or started. Or that you had homework. Ryan looked over at him in surprise, but Connor seemed to avoid eye contact all the more. He bit his lower lip and his eyes began to waver from their position in lieu of flicking across the room like a confused fly in search of the open window. Ryan silently inquired as to why Connor looked so shocked and Connor felt that he must comply.

“I was meant to bring one,” he confessed ashamedly, “but I didn’t.”

Ryan felt the weight of Lilith’s head leave his shoulder and he could already see the daggers in her eyes, questioning why they shouldn’t stab Connor in the heart already, in his mind before she spoke with the venom of a hoard of cobras.

“Do you meant that you ‘forgot’?” she hissed. Connor turned to face her with a weak defiance across his face.

“I meant to find out from the guy who gave us the moon thing, but he disappeared before I got a chance!” he defended himself whilst Lilith rose to her feet, he followed suit. “I wanted to check the Book, but I had to get you back first and then once we used the spell to get down here it was too late!”

“My God!” she yelled, throwing her arms over her face as she began to pace across the cell, she turned back to him and uncovered her face to show eyes that bordered on bloodthirsty. “You are an absolute idiot! How could you forget to bring the one thing that you were explicitly told to take with you when we came down here?”

“Everything happened to fast for me to even remember my own name, let alone some page in a book!” Connor continued, but he couldn’t quell Lilith.

“It would’ve made no difference if you’d forgotten your name, but you didn’t forget ‘some page’! You forgot the very thing we needed to free Ryan! To do what we came here to do!”

“And what about you?” Connor retorted. “What were you planning on doing when we got down here? Did you think Ryan would just be sitting around with a bow on his head and a note saying ‘Sorry, didn’t mean to take him. Our bad. Love Demons’?”

“I wasn’t to know that we needed a spell to get him out of here!” Lilith shouted fiercely, closing the space between them, drawing nearer to the centre of the cage, like wrestlers in a match and Connor followed. “But you knew that we needed it and you made no attempt to get it!”

“Need I remind you who brought us down here in so much of a hurry?” Connor was not backing down, an example of strength that Lilith had yet to be challenged with and so was unsure of how to precede, but she assumed that she should make good on her promises from before. They quickly came closer and closer together without any thought to stop before they could rush into each other; Lilith clenched her fists and Connor prepared himself to take to the air before conjuring his bow and arrow.

Within the next second, her fist was raised and he was readying his hands to swoop down and scoop his body up off the ground. She reared her shoulder back as she charged, he gathered his focus and plunged his arms down, ready to change the trajectory to pull up.

Then, there was a drip.

The sound echoed more through their minds than through the seemingly endless abyss of a room that the cage inhabited, but they heard it and they saw it. The mangled barbwire cuffs warped ruthlessly around Ryan’s forearms, they were black with hints of green under any sheen of light that passed over them. His head hung low between his unscarred upper arms, where any loose blood could not travel because of gravity, his face was hidden by a shadow of a dark, lifeless emotion that was hard for Connor to read properly. This was the first time that the cuffs had been properly displayed to either Lilith or Connor and they hadn’t noticed the state they were in; the barbwire was wrapped without care or practice from Ryan’s clenched fists up to his elbows and, whilst much remained the green-black that it had been before, some of the lower half – underneath his arms – the green wasn’t been stained, but it was laced with a dark red, the red was dark that it looked to be nearing purple and it was still wet. The wounds that had led to this blood now trickling down the barbs must’ve begun after Lilith and Connor arrived because most of it was running loosely over a dried, crusted red that faintly coated the thorns. The drip they’d heard – that had made them stop where one stood and one hovered – was a single drop of blood finally falling down onto the floor. There were tiny whispers escaping from respective lips; one spoke Ryan’s name, the other cursed. Ryan himself was silent as he grimly appreciated the fact he’d achieved his desired effect, but his stature was not that of a man who had succeeded, but of one who was far too tired to do anything more but fail. There was the sound of rumpling clothes as Ryan collapsed to his knee, he looked as though he was proposing to someone who could not be seen nor be liked, but Ryan had no choice but to become one with them. Very quickly, Lilith was on her knees with her arms wrapped around Ryan’s shoulder and her head buried between his shoulder and his neck. Then there was a tugging at his arm and he saw Connor making his attempt to console him, but he didn’t seem to want to come too close in proximity, but why that would be confused Ryan since one of Connor’s hands was holding the part of his white shirt that had been dyed red, so it couldn’t be fear. Whatever it was, Ryan was just glad that he’d managed to stop them both fighting, but then Ryan sighed in defeat and nobody questioned it. Then, something struck him and a faint curiosity appeared in his face.

“What moon thing?” he asked abruptly. Lilith drew her arms away from her best friend and looked over at Connor who was looking at her. Soon enough, Lilith produced the disc with both its lunar wings extended and showed it to Ryan who inspected it carefully, though he couldn’t touch it of course, he looked with his eyes before humming.

“What is it Ryan?” Lilith asked concerned and curious. Ryan looked from her to the object to Connor to her to the object before he responded.

“The Triple Moon.” He suddenly announced assuredly, both Connor and Lilith seemed confused so he explained. “I read about it in the Book of Bones; it’s a Wiccan symbol the represents three magical Goddesses who make up the Moon and its power. It’s obviously a lot more complicated that that, but it’s a symbol of Unity or Trinity or both and it serves as a powerful symbol to all Wiccan Witches – myself included.”

“So, when that guy said we’d need something of a Witch-” Connor began.

“He meant the power only a Witch could bring to the table.” Lilith finished.

Ryan nodded at them both as they began to understand, but then something else ran across Ryan’s mind and it seemed like he’d suddenly had an amazing idea. He looked over at the two of them and looked them straight in the eye with a flat expression.

“Both of you,” he said and caught their full attention “put a hand on my shoulder.”

They were both confused, they looked from Ryan to one another and back to Ryan, but he insisted that they did as he said. So, they each put a hand on one of his shoulders and watched the cogs turn in his brain as he began to murmur to himself. After a few moments, he snapped his head up and smiled. He then looked away from them and stared with a charged expression at the section of grated wall directly in front of him. He spoke with forced calm and confidence in his words, but in his mind he was only praying that it worked.

“Bonds of Wood, Metal or Divinity,

I call to you to answer this plea.

My time is done and my muscles ache,

Release me from the cursed fate.

Unbind these bonds that do restrain me,

And, like the winds, allow me be free.”

The words flew from his mouth like birds on the wing and they radiated out of him like shine from the sun. The words travelled from his mouth and the power bestowed upon them was as true as any power that could cast, a serene silence followed the spell and there was nothing to do but wait until something happened. However, there was no change of light nor sound nor movement in or out of the cage, not even a gloat from Tristan whose reappearance could take place at any minute. Ryan felt stupid for a moment before Lilith’s ears perked up to something, she tossed her head around to look for the source of sound that seemed to emulate a combination of rustling, movement, sliding and other sounds, followed by the occasional snap of something. Eventually, Lilith was able to detect it to her left, then she followed it downwards until she was looking at Ryan again, but now she was focusing on his arms, wrapped in barbwire like an old wall is covered by ivory, the only difference being that the barbwire seemed to be moving. It was nothing extraordinary about the way it moved, but upon closer inspection it was clear that Lilith was right; every few seconds you could see a small movement in the coils of barbwire, until a few minutes later, Ryan could twist his wrists around slightly, which served to increase the pace with which the coils unravelled. Though 10 minutes may seem far too long for a task such as untying cables, the relief was too great for Ryan to care about the time it took; he managed to shuck off the barbwire and watch it be flung to the floor and fail like a misused slinky. With great excitement, Ryan flung his arms open wide and his bloodied, raw and red wrists and forearms were on full, proud display as wriggled his fingers, causing very frequent sounds of cracking and popping after being restrained so tightly for so many hours. The blood wasn’t dripping, but it was smearing across his entire forearm where the needles had punctured skin, but for most of it you couldn’t tell because of how well he’d healed, but that was not to say that he’d healed completely, there were still puncture wounds and deep scratches crossing his expanse of skin and it was those scars that neither Lilith nor Connor could tear their eyes away from.

“Was that a spell from the Book?” Lilith asked quickly.

“Nope,” was Ryan’s quick response as he twisted his body around, so as to be sure everything clicked. “I made it up just now.” He set his arms back down to his side and smiled at himself. “I love being a Witch.”

Ryan returned to being stood there grinning and stretching as though he’d just woken up on the most beautiful day for another few minutes and the joy was clear on his face.

Shortly, Ryan drew back his arms and moved so as to crack his back before he moved forward, crossing the floor of the cell until he came for the same wall he’d stared at before. He stood in front of it as though he wanted to challenge it, but instead he reaches his hands out behind him and invited Lilith and Connor to each take one into their own. With only a moment’s hesitation, they both gripped onto him, wrapping their fingers tightly into each other’s. Ryan seemed excited as he skipped backwards so that he was in line with the other two. He looked from one to the other and explained that he wanted them to say the spell with him this time, they were both clearly confused, but did not argue with Ryan, he seemed to have found his stride and it would be insane to question it now. So, they stood less than a metre away from the strong, metal bars that had been carefully placed so close together that you’d have to be an insect to squeeze your way through, but Ryan only looked at them with brimming confidence and a delicate smile that made the entire endeavour appear more fruitful. So, they spoke in unison.

“Bonds of Wood, Metal or Divinity,

We call to you to answer this plea.

Our time is done and our muscles ache,

Release us from the cursed fate.

Unbind these bonds that do restrain us three,

And, like the winds, allow us to be free.”

For another short moment there was no sign of any changes, but very quickly, much quicker than before, there came a powerful surge of power in the Connor’s left palm and the same sensation was charging in Lilith’s right palm; they both raised their palms to themselves to witness a light protruding from the grooves in their hands, but the light began to grow and expand until their very skin seemed to be illuminated from within, but they didn’t know what to do next. Until Ryan tightened his grip on both of their hands, they turned their heads to him and he only nodded and said ‘Aim’.

Like a well-rehearsed command, the two raised their palms in the direction of the grated, cell wall and they could only stare as the light intensified. Finally, the lights erupted from their hands and fired a burst of light, like a brilliant sound wave that traversed the air and shot into the metal bars; the light integrated itself in with the bars and they began to radiate the same luminous light before the entire wall exploding shards of blazing, white metals. Immediately, Connor and Lilith used their spare hands to cover their face and eyes from the flying debris traversing the area, but Ryan just stood there with a look and sensation of elation as he saw the prison walls break wide open and, though the darkness seemed total and all-consuming, he had no greater desire than to simply run straight out into it. So, he gripped the hands of his friends as hard as he could and he charged forwards with all his might and all his courage, dragging the other two close behind him and within the a second of deciding to move, he was flying through a black chasm devoid of life or light, but he was still smiling.

There was an empty darkness for a full minute; no sight, no sound, no movement, the air smelt of nothing, there was nothing but black heat cradling their descent into the unknown.

Within moments, gravity took hold of them and they felt their fall approach, even Connor did not think to raise his arms in order to search for security within the air above. Even Lilith, with her superhuman senses and reflexes, had no instinct for what should be done next. However, Ryan, who had only the power of sight restored to him and no intention of using it to pierce light into the darkness, lead this charge into probable oblivion with a tooth filled grin that stretched from ear to ear and had the fall lasted any longer, he probably would’ve laughed out loud in whatever ecstasy appeared to be consuming him.

The fall was short and the ground appeared suddenly, but both Ryan and Lilith seemed to have been ready for a long enough time as they both landed with their right foot hitting the floor on the ball and rolling down so the ankle came to a halt gently, Lilith had pressed her left knee into the ground to stabilise her, but Ryan’s entire left side was being tugged up by his arm because his hand was still linked into Connor’s and Connor had finally come to the decision to use his power of Levitation to spare himself from falling flat on the ground. In all truth, he was only about a foot or two off the ground, but with the way the white glow shone down on his head from above, Ryan saw him like an angel with a halo of light. Then, Ryan realised something; there was light here!

Immediately, Ryan’s eyes discoloured themselves to the negative and he was no longer affected, but both Lilith and Connor had to close their eyes for fear of being blinded – Lilith in particular, her eyesight was much greater than most beings, so the sudden intensity of the lights from above seemed to pierce her retina with almost physical pain. But whilst the other two had their eyes closed, Ryan was able to see everything he did and didn’t want to see; he wanted to see the light of the world again, but he didn’t want to see that he wasn’t in the world he knew right now; the sky that should’ve been blue was obstructed by a thick ceiling of rock with spike protruding and smooth lines and curved that seemed to have been carved in by the wind over thousands of years, the heat was even worse here, it was like being in the cavern of an active volcano – an idea which would not been completely unbelievable at this point – and when Ryan looked behind him (though keeping his head perfectly still) he saw no cage, no iron bars, no shards of glowing metal, there was only a dark sphere, a void of anything that contained the entire imprisonment. That was why there had been only darkness encasing them and that the only thing they could see was the cage – it was the only thing in there.

Then, something attracted Ryan’s eyes and Lilith’s ears perked up as a response to the same stimulus; the sound of someone walking towards them. The footsteps were loud and purposefully and they were drawing nearer second by second. Only Connor remained oblivious as he remained in the air, waiting for some kind of signal to move, but he could only wait, as Ryan’s hand remained tightly gripped in his own.

There was a rippling watery-effect emerging from the near one of the entryways, in clear sight of all three of them. The Demon Tristan slowly appeared from this form of teleportation, he had his head lowered and he raised it slowly to take a look at the scene before him, he looked as though he were judging them rather complacently, deciding how bored he should look when he put them all back in the cage. He smirked and drew his hands from behind his back. Ryan’s eyes widened at what he saw and his heart missed a beat and a half; Tristan had produced two more barbwire cuffs that clearly intended to be latched onto Lilith and Connor in order to make them suffer as Ryan had, only with the added benefit of potential death. Ryan gritted his teeth and crinkled his nose, glaring black and white daggers at Tristan’s cocky face, he wanted to tear apart from the group and use any kind of magic to destroy the demon there and then, but Lilith and Connor’s hold on him rightfully forbade him from doing so, an action for which he would later be grateful.

There were no words exchanged between anyone. The silence was too tense to be filled with anything else. The stares seemed eternal, even when Ryan blinked he saw Tristan and Tristan simply didn’t blink, his eyes just rested half-lidded as if this was the easiest thing in the world. Lilith pulled herself up from her knelt down position and, as she did so, Ryan followed suit, rising to his feet. Connor too felt the necessity to bring them all to the same level, and allowed gravity to sink its grip into his body once more, floating gently to the ground, standing tall against Ryan. Again, everyone was silent and still.

Until, like lightning, Tristan’s eyes were suddenly extended fully and the vines of poison-heavy chains were halfway across the room. With a swiftness that only adrenaline could produce, Connor's hands were open and raised and the lights were already gathering around to create the outline of his bow and, just in the nick of time, the bow materialised and was solid just in time for the vines to bind ruthlessly around it, digging deep grooves into the wood of the bow, the force with which the vines had been thrown tore into the bow and wrenched it out of Connor’s hands and the bow was flung across the room. Connor followed the path of his bow with his eyes, but Ryan’s grip on his finger surged him not to separate and go after it, so Connor turned back, though reluctantly. The second coil was fired towards Lilith, but she had her own surprise behind her back; with her free hand, she managed to produced a small iron rod, it must’ve been part of what had broken off when they’d escaped from the cage, she brought the rod into an arch that moved like lightning to intercept the toxic cord. Lilith had moved at just the right time, she’d knocked the rod into the pathway of the barbwire and it was snagging around it, but then Lilith released a stifled roar of pain and Ryan’s face dropped when he saw about four or five thorn jamming themselves violently into her skin, blood was already leaking out of her, but before anything could be said, Lilith flung her arm out to the side and released the iron rod away, it had the majority of the coil still wrapped around it and so it tore out the thorn lodged in Lilith’s hand, but Ryan could tell the poison had already entered her system. Now, Ryan was mad.

Ryan gripped both of his friend’s hands as tight as he could and they squeezed back. Lilith straightened her posture and her eyes glared darkly with Connor just as irate. Tristan was scared now, but he did everything in his power to stop himself from looking scared, even though his feet seemed itching to run away.

Lilith’s teeth were set against each other so hard that she could’ve cracked her own tooth, Ryan knew how painful the poison was, it was like a python was repeatedly biting the insides of your veins and then there was the knowledge that the poison was slowly killing you anyway, but Lilith was fighting it incredibly well. Just like she always fought. But now it was Ryan’s turn to fight and even if he were holding the hands of friends whilst he did it, he would fight this battle just as hard. He gripped their hands and looked Tristan straight in his Demon eyes and saw the shiver he sent into the Demon’s body. Ryan did not smile seeing how scared Tristan was for his life, but he did not pity him either. Instead, he spoke.

“By the Powers invested in me by the Darkest Light,

“Wait.” Lilith said suddenly. Ryan cut himself off and looked to her with a questioning glance, but she wanted to keep her sights locked on Tristan as she spoke. “What if we all said the spell? Wouldn’t it be more powerful? That way we can give this guy exactly what he deserves.”

Ryan smiled away from Lilith and stared down at Tristan as one would when about to exact their revenge, he agreed and taught them both the spell very quickly. However, Tristan was quick to protest.

“No! You can’t!” he cried in a panic, but he was smiling – nervously. “Cupids and Slayers can’t cast spells, it doesn’t work! Hah! It doesn’t work! Don’t bother!”

“Me thinks the lady doth protest too much,” Lilith muttered quietly, but loud enough that both Ryan and Connor chuckled with her, but something about the way the laughed seemed cruel, as if they were enjoying this, relishing in the opportunity to hurt and kill this Demon.

In unison, all three spoke the words of the spell.

“By the Powers invested in us by the Darkest Light,

We curse the one who causes out Plight.

From Time until Time and Place to Place,

Be gone from Reality without a Trace!”

The tendrils of darkness appeared as Ryan expected them to and they were very quick with what they accomplished; they ensnared Tristan’s shrieking form in their own void and tightened their grip until nothing could survive within, then the vines opened suddenly like a blooming flower captured on a sped-up tape and revealed nothing inside. The tendrils returned the walls and ceiling from which they emerged and the trio grinned with shining teeth at their victory, but they were also silent and the cave quickly grew very eerie, not that any of them noticed. Lilith turned to Ryan, still smiling, and she asked him if he wanted to go home.

“Of course,” Ryan smiled brightly, “but if we wanted to go to school I think we’re about 6 hours late.”

“Why do I get the feeling that this won’t be the last time?” Connor sighed boredly, resting his cheek in his free hand.

“Because it won’t be,” Lilith responded, placing her free hand on her hip.

Ryan looked between them both with amazement in his eyes. It must've been the first time they’d exchanged words without sarcasm or death threats. Of course, Ryan wanted to point this out, but decided that it would be best just to keep the moment sacred, so he closed his eyes and told himself to embed this moment in his memory. After a few seconds, he opened his eyes and sighed.

“All right,” he said, suddenly fatigue was seeping through his voice as he spoke and his eyelids began to slope, so as to emphasise just how tired he was. “Let me jus think of a spell that’ll take us home and we can go.”

~\*/~

The time was about 5 o’clock when they arrived back in Ryan’s attic. The transportation was much different when Ryan did it, instead of moving through a strong wind, Ryan’s spell released a mass of a black aura that enveloped them until it took the form of a giant bird and literally flew up into the cave’s ceiling before coming out of his attic floorboards. The trio appeared as though they had all been there the entire time.

Connor had to leave almost immediately after, having quickly realised that Stan might still be in the same place that he always was when he had to pick up Connor. Lilith had wanted to stay, but she could here her mother calling her name from down the road and knew she had to leave, but she didn’t leave until she made sure Ryan was safe and in his room, she’d even offered to wait until he showered and went to bed, but Ryan shooed her away and told her to appease her mother.

So, Ryan was there sitting on the bed all alone. The evil look in his features had vanished and had been entirely replaced by a world-class exhaustion that meant the second his head touched his pillow he was asleep.

~\*/~

Ryan didn’t wake up when his alarm went off the next morning, he didn’t even notice enough to press the snooze button until 8:30. At which point, he lethargically blinked at his alarm clock through one blurry eye. For a moment, he assumed that he was reading the clock wrong, but when he realised it was in fact 8:30 he was already half in the shower with his school uniform from yesterday still on. So, he stripped, showered and then redressed himself in a cleaner uniform and went downstairs, but didn’t have time to greet his mother who was sitting in the kitchen or his father who’d already left for work.

Ryan sprinted from his house down the road and around the corner, ignoring the cold nipping at his ungloved fingers until he passed by Lilith’s house just as she was running down her driveway. Clearly she had been in a rush too; her skirt was an appropriate length, her tie was done properly and she was wearing flat shoes. Ryan ran up to her and, despite how late he was, he stopped at her and stared with a confused, almost disapproving look on his face.

“How late did you wake up?” he asked.

“Like 10 minutes ago,” she said as she tugged her skirt upwards awkwardly. “I didn’t have time to mess up my uniform, OK? I’m wearing comfortable flats! When have you seen me wear flat shoes since we were twelve.”

Ryan knew he didn’t have time to think that far back, but he found himself looking back at the time they’d spent together since they were twelve and it did occur to him that her shoes always had heels. Finally, he looked at her with a blank expression before shaking his head at her.

“You’re gonna get really bad bunions,” he pointed out knowingly.

“Um, hello, Vampire Slayer,” she pointed at herself and spoke like it was obvious. “Our bodies force themselves to stay in the best shape for fighting, bunions I think not.”

“I told you weren’t human,” he stated flatly. She smiled sarcastically before looking past him and down the road where there was no bus and she cursed under her breath, at which Ryan gave a stern look, but she ignore him.

“We’re never gonna make it if the bus doesn’t show up right now and there’s no traffic,” she thought out loud. “Of course the one time we’re late the bus would come on time just so we’d miss it.”

“Let me check,” Ryan said. He closed his eyes, breathed and opened them again and they were negative, but he then closed them again and made them normal. “The bus is too far, it’ll never be here in time, but there’s no traffic from here to the school.”

“Well then we’re screwed anyway,” Lilith flipped her arms upwards and exhaled sharply. She slapped her arms back down and felt as though there were no more options. “We might as well start walking.”

So, Lilith turned around and began walking with Ryan next to her. He looked at her to talk and noticed that she was only slightly taller than him when she was in flat, but that she walked more awkwardly, as if she’d never learnt how to walk without something propping her up. She even tripped a couple times; something Lilith was not prone to doing. They had managed to walk up to their bus stop, knowing full well not to stop there today and they saw the man there wearing a white shirt and black trousers today. They were about to say to him when there was a sound in the distance that caught both of their attentions, so they turned around and saw a familiar black Mercedes coming towards them, faster than they remembered it ever travelling. There was a figure hanging out the window and his blonde hair was floating behind him as he approached. The car came to a gentle stop just beside them and Connor smiled at them wide-eyed and a little panicky, but he still seemed happy to see them.

“Hey!” he spoke like he was out of breath and he looked untidy with a crooked tie and open top button. Ryan leaned over to Lilith and whispered.

“That’s what normal people look like in a morning rush,” he muttered.

“Well, he’s hardly a normal human,” she responded to which Ryan simply shrugged.

“I’m glad I’m not the only one who got up late this morning,” he rubbed the back of head like he was a little nervous or guilty, but he focused again quickly. “Do you guys want a lift today?”

“Yes!” Ryan responded immediately, he then turned back to Lilith as if he was answering her question. “We need a ride.”

Her face appeared to be unamused and she tried to look indifferent, but she agreed nonetheless, at which Connor relaxed slightly and smiled. Then, when she did speak she yelled, “I call Shotgun!” She then pushed Ryan out of the way and leapt into the front passenger seat. Ryan was surprised into silence for a second, but when he looked back up at Connor he just laughed and got into the backseat with Connor next to him. He smiled again before looking to Lilith in the front next to Stan.

“So, you have to wear this uniform?” she asked looking up and down at the very cliché chauffeur uniform he was wearing, complete with leather gloves.

“Yes,” he affirmed politely. “It is the preference of Mr and Mrs Vincent that I don myself in this attire. Are there any further questions, Ms Willow?”

“Oh!” she almost shrieked, pressing her hand to chest and looking back to Ryan. “Listen to what he calls me! Ms Willow, indeed.”

Ryan laughed at how happy being called Ms made Lilith and then looked back to Connor to make sure that Stan wasn’t putting on an act, but Connor simply nodded to assure him that this was how he spoke on a regular basis – at least when he was at work.

“Now, Master Vincent,” Stan addressed Connor. “We will need to proceed quickly. Is this everyone we will be chauffeuring today?”

“Yes, it is.” Connor smiled at him, he then looked from Stan to Lilith and then to Ryan before continuing. “In fact, I think this shall have to be a daily stop from now on.”

“Oh no, you don’t have to-” Ryan immediately began to protest.

“As you wish, Master Vincent.” Stan cut in strongly before pushing the accelerator and starting the car off on the road at just under the speed limit, though the road seemed to travel by faster than Ryan recognised it doing so on the bus. Of course, maybe this was what it was like being driven to school, perhaps everything simply happened faster. He looked back over to Connor who was smiling at him and Ryan smiled back. Ryan then leaned over and whispered to Connor just as he had done to Lilith.

“Welcome to our weird little group.”

11: Curse Words

11

11/11/03

The next morning, Ryan managed to hear his alarm at the correct time and fulfilled his duty to promptly his snooze for 20 minutes. After such time had passed, Ryan groaned loudly, signalling defeat against the tyrannical army of noises emanating from his fiercely incessant, digital clock. When Ryan finally rolled over to look at the time he read 7:35 and pressed a minuscule, black button on the far side of the instrument in order to turn the thing off for another 24 hours. Ryan sighed again, throwing his head back lazily and making resisting, lethargic noises before forcing himself to swing his legs over the side of the bed and actually get up. He worked through his morning routine solidly: shower, brush hair, brush teeth, get dressed and finish homework, which had been due on Monday, but, of course, he had not been there to hand it in. So, with an equation here and there, Ryan packed his bag, swung it over his shoulder and made his way downstairs.

As usual, his parents were sitting in their usual places next to each other at the table, munching on toast and sipping coffee when Ryan walked in. He smiled up at them and they all exchanged Good Mornings. Joseph was sitting in his ‘smart business suit’, the black pinstripe that he only took out for really important meetings, but Celia was slumping back in her seat in her pink, chequered lounge pants and a T-shirt with jumping sheep smiling. Ryan set his bag down on the floor and sat down to eat. There was a comfortable silence, broken only by the rustles of paper as Joseph Grahams flicked the pages every few minutes or so. The image was very scenic; the only thing missing was Joseph’s pipe and a vintage filter that served now to prove how old the picturesque scene was. Ryan remained quiet and seemed to be in deep thought until one of those thoughts came to his lips; he made a sound around the food in his mouth to draw his parents’ attention.

“Did you find anything out about my birth mother?” he asked brightly, his eyes full of questioning hope. His father had already looked up from his newspaper and was smiling fondly from behind his thin-framed glasses.

“No news yet, I’m afraid,” he admitted slowly and watched as the light in Ryan’s eyes dimmed slightly, though not intentionally. “But we did find out that she and your father were only ever engaged, they never married apparently. I won’t pretend to know if that’s worth anything to you or not, but I imagine you’d want to know as much as possible.”

Joseph had stopped talking, but there was a sudden twitch in his demeanour for a second, after which his eyes crossed over to meet Celia’s glare. Joseph must’ve had some argument for such a stern expression, but 12 years of marriage had taught him to choose his battles and those 12 years of experience instructed him that this was not a choice battle. He returned to his paper, just as Celia turned to her son.

“So,” Ryan’s eyes seemed to search the floor in some kind of process of working something out. He then turned his eyes up again. “So, I’m a bast-”

Ryan quickly stopped himself by clapping his hands around his mouth, an action which Celia couldn’t help but giggle at; the reason being that in all his 16 years, Ryan had clung to a grand aversion to cursing and he’d only committed such an action once before, after which he refused to speak for the preceding 12 hours, for fear that it would become an unstoppable habit. Even a word in its most literal sense could not be uttered if it were ever to be used as a curse.

“Love child?” Celia offered and Ryan silently nodded in positive acknowledgement. Celia smirked at herself and gave her attention back to a novel she was reading, some dramatic romance no doubt.

“Oh yes, Ryan,” Joseph drew back his son’s attention and laid his newspaper to rest. “I didn’t think I’d seen you since you left for school yesterday. So, it must’ve been 24 hours since? What happened to you yesterday?”

Ryan was stuck for a moment, a thought crossed his mind to tell his parents what had happened, but he wasn’t sure whether or not to bother; on one hand, they were his parents and this was a major life-changing event, a rational person would be inclined to inform them of such a drastic transformation. On the other hand, he was a Witch and the result could be burning at the stake or being committed to a mental institute. In addition, Ryan wasn’t the only one involved, revealing himself would mean ratting out Connor and Lilith too and it was their secret too.

“I fell asleep,” Ryan said dryly, he wasn’t used to lying, but there was also a sense in him that predicted that that would be a fact no longer.

“You were asleep?” Joseph asked curiously, arching his eyebrow. He looked straight into Ryan’s eyes, as if he was trying to physically draw out an ill-veiled truth from his son, but Ryan, with a sensation like a single needle devirginising his heart.

“Yeah,” Ryan said quietly, avoiding every instinctive tugging his neck to look at his mother for support, but he knew that she already knew more than she was letting on. “Yesterday was a really stressed up day; there was work and homework and…um…Lilith and Connor were there and…”

There was a silence at the table that must’ve been the single most awkward sound since the room had been furnished. Ryan’s father stared down at him over thin spectacles and Ryan’s face was forcing itself to set into stone like aging mortar, it was becoming more solid as time went on, a frightening sensation – but exhilarating.

“Well, I suppose Lilith can be quite tiring,” Joseph admitted with a huff and a adjustment to his neck to click, then he stopped and looked back to Ryan, whose face had remained stoic. “But I haven’t heard the other girl’s name before, have I?”

Celia chuckled, startling the attention of both men towards her. She had her cup held up to her lips and lowered it to speak. “Connor is not a girl. He’s a boy. A very charming young man, I might add.”

“Ah. Sorry, I suppose I’m just used to you only hanging around with girls,” Joseph muttered to himself, a comment Ryan wasn’t sure how to react to. So he simply shrugged stiffly, finding himself uncomfortable in his own skin all of a sudden. There was another silence either more or less awkward than the last depending on where you were seated around the table. The smell of melted butter was less apparent as they food had cooled and the conversation was the heaviest scent around. Suddenly, Ryan stood up and excused himself from the table to go and meet Lilith. His walk was brisk and tense, as he marched out the door.

Joseph and Celia looked out into the empty hallway where their son had walked out of with an abruptness that he was not accustomed to. They looked from the space to each other before reverting their eyes back to their menial tasks.

“Well, he’s definitely lying,” Joseph said, sighing bluntly, but he continued to read a less than interesting article about some protest.

Celia was gently sipping her tea before she responded, barely retracting the cup from her lips when she spoke. “Perhaps it’s something he doesn’t feel ready to tell us.”

Joseph raised his eyes from the paper momentarily in thought, but he didn’t seem to think much of it when he returned his gaze downwards. “So, he’s growing up?”

Celia chuckled again with her knowing voice. “Now wouldn’t that be a plot-twist?”

~\*/~

The sky was a timid grey; the Sun had been overcast by one huge culmination of clouds from across the heavens. The trees that had once been saturated with soft greens were now baring their brown skeletons to the frightening chill of November and what was left of their plump, fine leaves had dried out and turned to crumpled brown or lucky specks of orange. The road was mostly empty, if one excused the multitude of dark coloured cars parked along the sides, and the air was motionless with only the faint aroma of bitter cold.

The moment Ryan stepped out of his front door he was exposed to a disorientating mist of condensation that he’d forgotten to expect. He sharply brought the door to a close behind him, ignoring the distant slam. He held still for a moment. His breaths were slow and shallow. His eyes were wide and blind to the world and his arms hung loosely by his side. There was tightness in his chest and his mouth was dry, but neither was from the cold. There was a steady hum in the back of his mind, studiously intervened by silence before it hummed again, but Ryan didn’t care to notice. The tightening in his chest wound sharper in each breath he took and there was a definite lack of oxygen trickling down his windpipe now, but still Ryan remained inadvertently oblivious. He didn’t even notice when his knees buckled and his legs gave. There was a slump in his posture and a change in perspective as the street came up to meet Ryan, but he didn’t seem to want to react as he sank further to the ground. His knees struck concrete without hesitation or resistance. They simply slapped into the cold, grey floor. Ryan’s gaze remained fixed forward on a moving blur ahead of him that he wasn’t sure was walking towards him or away from him. It could’ve been either. It could’ve been neither. Ryan wasn’t concerned. Then, Ryan began to fall forward, shoulders first, with gravity directing him towards the ground. His chin rose upwards to keep Ryan’s eyes level, as if to create the illusion of nothing changing, despite his head losing altitude also. There was a sudden jerking movement and Ryan’s shoulders stopped dead as they made contact and his head lunged forward, drawing closer to the ground. However, contact was not made. Ryan’s shoulders had definitely hit something, but it wasn’t cold, in fact it was warm, very warm, and comforting. There was a sense of security in the touch of whatever was holding him up now and its cordiality was bringing him back; the constriction in his chest was unwinding and oxygen was returning his strength and stability to him, finally his vision turned from blurred to focus and he could finally see the cracks in the concrete he should’ve smashed his face into. Finally, his vision focused enough to become aware of the shined black shoes below him that came to a rounded tip and the very design of the shoes spoke of extravagance and a price tag bigger than Ryan’s left hand. Ryan’s eyes had managed to readjust to life by this point and he finally connected enough impulses to his neck to look up at his saviour’s face. Immediately, Ryan couldn’t help but smile at the familiar blonde hair and unfamiliar green eyes smiling down at him with concern.

“Connor,” Ryan sighed gratefully as he rose to standing, noticing how Connor’s hands seemed to hover around him without making contact, ready to catch Ryan again if he fell. “Thank you.”

Connor smiled and nodded, retracting his arms away reluctantly. He let them fall limp by his side, but his eyes remained focused.

“Are you alright?” he asked instinctively. He looked nervous, fidgety, like there was something he was awaiting to happen, but hadn’t happened yet.

Ryan nodded silently and continued to smile quietly at Connor, urging his peaceful expression to relax the frightened Cupid. There seemed to be a forced slack in Connor’s shoulders that Ryan couldn’t find himself ignoring, at least his eyesight had returned. Ryan could see everything about Connor, just as he could before, only now he was paying attention to how Connor was sucking in his left cheek and his eyes darted from side-to-side slightly when he tried to look Ryan in the eyes and his shoulders would often rise up in tension and then relax when Connor noticed.

“I’m fine.” Ryan responded finally. “I’m not sure what happened, but I don’t think it’s a big concern.”

There was a short pause between the two of them until a question poked at Ryan’s mind.

“What are you doing here, anyway?” Ryan asked suddenly. Connor’s head snapped up and his eyes were wide as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. Connor had to remind himself to relax again before he coughed a tickle in his throat to speak clearly.

“Uh, I’m here to, uh,” then Connor seemed to suddenly remember why he was here and he looked Ryan shakily in the eyes. “I’m here to pick you up for school.” He gestured behind him at the black Mercedes purring gently on the street with Stan waiting patiently behind the wheel. Now, Ryan was caught off-guard, but there was a memory of what Connor had said yesterday filtering to the forefront of his mind. Yes, Connor had said that he’d pick both him and Lilith up for school from now on, Ryan had only thought that he’d still go out to meet Lilith by her house, but clearly Connor intended to make mornings easier.

It took Ryan another moment to stop sightlessly staring at the car in the street and respond in affirmative to Connor. At last, Connor escorted Ryan into the car, still wary of his stability, and Stan politely addressed Master Grahams, to which Ryan responded quietly and the car was driven away.

Throughout the 5 dragging minutes in the car, Connor would periodically ask if Ryan was ok, to which Ryan would always reply to the affirmative. However, it was not surprising that this was the extent of their repetitive conversation because, during the entire longwinded journey, the two did not know how to speak to one another. There was a gaping vacancy in their vocal arsenal and it became apparent to all parties that the two had never spoken about anything that neglected the world of magic; they'd first had contact due to Demon attacks, they'd remained in contact because Connor was curious about his powers and now...what was there to say? Stan was in the car, so, to avoid giving the impression that they were on drugs, the foundation of their friendship had to be temporarily revoked. The air between them was light with silence coupled with the refined awkwardness that accompanied the silence in the presence of money - and if people recognised one thing when they drove with Connor, it was the air of wealth he wore like a hat, or perhaps a crown.

"Did you do the Biology homework?" Connor ingeniously queried out of the blue. His enthusiasm was unsettled and requited by a gasp from Ryan who had grown somewhat accustomed to the rich silence around them.

Ryan stuttered for a moment, trying to remember what language he spoke in order to respond. "No. I haven't had a chance with all the- everything."

Connor was disheartened by the dead end with which his attempt at conversation was met and the silence resettled, but now it felt awkward, as if the craftsman had made Connor's crown a touch too tight. Connor resorted to sucking in his cheek, Ryan bit his bottom lip and neither could look at the other one for fear succumbing to the 'awkward smile' that failed to relieve the tension whenever it was needed.

The sleek car came to a gentle halt just outside the house Ryan recognised as Lilith's and there was the scheduled clip-flop of her designer-imitation heels approaching the car. Ryan smiled and Connor released his grip in his chin, but his face fell straight.

Lilith pulled the car door wide open and leaned down so half her upper body was in. Her duotone hair was loose and it draped down on one side of her head, she ignored Connor for the time being and addressed Stan alone.

"Hey, we need to wait for the other girl." She announced honestly.

"If, Miss Willow, you're referring to Master Grahams," Stan spoke with the proper annunciation of every syllable "he is already present."

Lilith was surprised for a second before she turned her head to the back seats to see Ryan smiling at her with an unimpressed smirk that ended with tiny, unmeaning glares.

"Oh." Lilith spoke quickly, but she didn't hesitate to smile at him in return before hoisting her harmfully heavy bag into her lap and hopping down into the seat beside Stan. She turned her head back and eyed her best friend with faux judgement. "Text much?"

 "Text you? I have my pride." Ryan responded.

"Yeah, but only in the Summer. It's November now."

"I was wondering about that. Why are you here? I thought bears hibernated about this time."

"Most bears. But I'm a new breed; stronger, faster and sexy as fu-"

"Language." Ryan interrupted firmly. His abhorrence for foul language extended from self-censorship to censoring Lilith, a girl whose foul mouth was nearly as infamous as her hair. Connor was surprised by Ryan's ability to hold her tongue so expertly - none of the teachers could - and he was also surprised by Lilith's compliance - another rare sight.

"Fine." She spoke like a cat who'd had he fur stroked the wrong way, but she still did as she was told. "Sexy as F."

"Good girl." Ryan praised flatly. Lilith rocked her head from side to side with the kind of pride in herself that most young children adopt when praised by a teacher. She quickly turned her head to Stan and she smiled cheekily.

"Morning Stan!" She hollered excitedly with an over-exaggerated, preppy Californian accent.

"Good Morning, Ms Willow," Stan remained stoic in his presentation with the heavily coveted British tone you'd only think to hear from Bruce Wayne's butler, Alfred. Lilith appeared to quake and shiver with excitement and she squeaked a sound of glee.

"Ooh! Ms Willow!" She sang as she threw her arms up in the air. "I don't think I'll ever get over how good that sounds! Ms Willow!" She was clearly not used to the formality as Connor was, and Ryan was simply better at restraining himself even as Lilith turned back to speak to him. "Don't you just love it Ryan? Ms Willow. Ms Grahams. It's so classy!"

"A rare treat for you obviously," Ryan smiled at her through his sarcasm. "I'd be more impressed, but I learnt what English sounds like a while ago, but don't let me stop you from being happy."

"Never have, never will!" Lilith continued to grin as she watched the bus that had left 10 minutes before she'd left he house disappear behind the car and the only smiled more as she noticed how much faster everything went now the they had Connor, not that she'd ever say as much to the boy she was certain her best friend would fall for.

Connor had remained had absorbed the shroud of silence that had closed the car previous to Lilith tearing her comfortable hole into it. His eyes flicked from one person, followed their clever quips cross the car and tracked the retort back across the car to the first person. He was not used to this brand of companionship, the people he spent time with all seemed to be constantly smiling, but there was never such a comfort between any two that permitted anyone to insult another with anything less than thinly veiled contempt. This was love.

"You're such a fag," Lilith taunted. Clearly, Connor had dwelled on his own social grouping for too long and had missed a large dose of love.

"Says the Fag Hag." Ryan drawled with a smirk like a developing version I his mother's.

"Uh, I think you mean Fag Queen?"

"No. I'm the Queen, you're the Evil Witch."

"Don't get clever sweetheart," Lilith rolled her head back to look at Ryan from an upside-down perspective. "Or I'll put a spell on you."

There was a beat of silence before the broke out into a grin at one another before starting to sing in unison:

"I'm a Hex Girl! And I'm gonna put a spell on you!"

And once again they were laughing like maniacal children at each other with Connor sitting next to Ryan with a look of surprised fear. Ryan turned from Lilith to Connor smiling until he saw Connor's expression and Ryan began to look as if searching for something.

"Hex Girls?" He repeated in hopes of retracting some recognition. "Scooby-Doo?"

Connor was silent for a moment as he wracked his brain for some trace of memory. Of course, he knew Scooby-Doo, but these 'Hex Girls' eluded him. He attempted to verbalise this, but was interrupted by the cool, composed voice of Stan.

"We have arrived." He announced with the war-settling, lady-swooning tone he was known for. "Have a productive day."

They all looked out their window and became aware that they'd arrived at school. Ryan and Lilith seemed to be wide-eyed at the scene, which confused Connor.

"Damn! That was quick!" She commented loudly.

"Yeah, we'd still be on the bus by this time normally." Ryan explained to the room. Connor didn't quite understand how significant this time-skip was, but it clearly was important to them for whatever reason.

"I shall return at 4:30 if either Ms Willow or Master Grahams wish to accompany Master Vincent home." Stan offered politely before waiting for the three teenagers to exit the vehicle.

Lilith looked over into the back seats and shook her head to indicate that they should get out it the car now. Quickly, all three gathered their belongings and leapt out of the Mercedes and onto the pavement. Lilith leaned back into he at and, again with her sultry, over-exaggerated voice, she said a long goodbye to Stan. He, of course, replied with his usual tone. Connor and Ryan stood behind her, waiting until she turned back around and they entered to school grounds.

~\*/~

“Back demon!” the boy, dressed in school uniform but accessorised with a black, magician’s cape and brave expression. “Leave my daughter alone!”

Lilith was collapsed on the floor with her arms cast astray with her wild double-coloured locks flustered across the floor in a black and red fan. She was doing all she could to remain absolutely still for the rest of the scene; her father – one of the boys in her class – was her father who had been taught how to exorcise the Devil from her soul. She had fallen unconscious when the Connor had been forcibly removed from her body and was thus being confronted by her father. Lilith, despite being heroically rescued, was bored now. She didn’t like doing nothing and she felt that if there was a fight happening over something that was happening with her then she should be on the front lines – playing Sleeping Beauty would not be on her agenda if another Demon decided to pop-up.

“The Power of Christ compels thee Demon!” the boy shouted passionately.

Really? The Power of Christ compels thee? Lilith rolled her eyes under he lids at the overused cliché from some movie that had long been retired to the archives of forgotten productions. There was something about the way that ever exorcism movie would use ‘the Power of Christ’ to solve their problems. Surely, if Jesus was spending his time doing something, he would have better things to do than deal with some weird chick in a nightie having a panic attack? Lilith wanted to frown at the thought, it seemed somehow blasphemous to her the way anyone and everyone would call on Jesus Christ to simply solve their problems. In addition to that, what if the ‘possessed’ wasn’t Christian? If so, what would Jesus do? Is that his jurisdiction? Lilith thought about it, remembering that Connor was actually of Jewish decent and she wondered; can a Jewish demon possess a Christian? If so, what do you do about it? Call a Priest or a Rabbi or both or neither? This entire scene was full of answered questions, anomalies and inaccuracies. Of course, Lilith could have been over thinking it. Then again, she was the only one who had to stay on the floor and be a pathetic, little Disney Princess and wait for some dude to save her lazy ass. Why did Ms Pool insist on doing ‘Defeating Your Demons’ this week? Wasn’t enough that she was being possessed, but now she had to be helpless? Why Ms Pool? Why?

Plucking Lilith from her stupor was a dull, lethargic round of applause for the end of the scene from a semi-interested audience and one enthusiastic racket from Ms Pool herself as she stood up in her crinkling purple shirt cast over black jeans. She walked from her space in the audience up onto the stage, her heels making nearly as much noise as Lilith’s did as she pushed herself onto her feet. She was grinning with pride and joy crinkled the edges of her mouth and eyes. Her strawberry blonde hair was pulled back in a high ponytail and her thick, black glasses seemed slightly disjointed as they hung unbalanced across the bridge of her nose.

“Wonderful, darlings!” she would proudly annunciate each word with a clear dramatic pause, as though the tension lay in every syllable. “A marvellous display.”

The entire group looked pleased with themselves as they received their praise, except for Lilith who was still unhappy with her role. She did retain a certain bemusement with what her teacher was praising them all for because, for the most part, she very much appreciated her role as Ruby; Ruby got possessed by the Devil, went to a shrink and stabbed her mother, which wasn’t too bad – most people possessed get possessed by less powerful demons, but no, Ruby got the big man! Something Lilith felt deserved pride. Then, having a therapist is nothing to be ashamed of; it’s just a way of getting happy pills and who hasn’t had one of those days? And third, she stabbed her mother, aka some snotty girl in her class who took Drama because she thought it would be an easy A for GCSE. Now that was a gift from upstairs.

After a minute or two, Ms Pool finished her very pleasant review of their scene and allowed them all to sit down. So, the entire group all walk down the steps from the stage to the seats and Lilith sits herself down on the far corner of the front row, hoping to remain in the place that offers the least possibility for all these people she didn’t get on with to not sit with her. So, when she felt the presence of another human being sitting on her left side, her eyes grew wide with surprise and, before she turned around, she expected it to be a Demon that was invisible to humans, but was perfectly ready to pounce on her. Her face had dropped into something that half-resembled fear and half-resembled anger directed at whatever she was about to see next to her. She turned her head slowly and what she saw made her skin crawl slightly.

“Hey,” whispered Connor with a friendly smile.

There was a pause in the conversation as Lilith’s brain rebooted in an attempt to readjust what was happening; in the moment, she felt exactly like a computer that had to install any new software – shut down all programs, restart the computer and then it will all work perfectly. However, the metaphor ends when she still finds that she cannot make any sense from Connor sitting next to her whilst he watched the second group perform their new scene. She was slowly becoming aware that her face was still scrunched up in a combination of anger, disgust and shock and she was now registering that she was staring right at his profile whilst she did it. There was a clear sense of discomfort emanating from Connor as his eyes flicked around nervously in his head whilst Lilith remained focused on him. Eventually, he turned around and spoke.

“Is there a problem?” he asked innocently.

“Maybe with your head.” She restrained herself from hissing the whisper, not wanting to draw public attention away from what was in stage to the little drama happening there. “Why are you sitting with me and not those Fury-looking girls you call friends?”

Connor looked at her in a questioning silence, eventually drawing a sigh from Lilith. “Furies, in Greek Mythology, are described as dog-faced women.” She explained, but Connor’s expression pressed a more candid elucidation. “I’m calling them bitches.”

Connor’s face relaxed and shone with enlightenment whilst Lilith rolled her eyes away from him and focused her attention on the scene that she was already bored of, but she intended to keep watching the derivative dribble that was being presented to her, until she felt the whisper of Connor’s words in her ear – sometimes having the world’s best senses was not so fantastic.

“We have more in common now, I figured that you, me and Ryan could end up being friends,” Connor was suggesting a three-part camaraderie and Lilith’s immediate reaction was to hiss like a snake and force him away. And it’s most likely that she would have done so, if the bell had not rung at that precise moment.

“Wonderful, children!” Ms Pool spoke in her punctual manner whilst she stood to dismiss the class. “Have a wonderful day everyone, sorry we ran out of time, but we’ll see the last group at the beginning of next lesson. If I could just see Lilith, Jeremy, Ivan, Rebecca and Connor for a moment please, then I’ll let you go.”

The rest of the class moved through mutters and the sounds of people zipping up their bags and half-jogging to their next lesson or to catch up with the friend who just left them behind. The five whose names had been called out were much less hurried as they approached their teacher, still zipping up their bags as they waited for her to begin. Ms Pool was picking up her papers until they were all in formation around her, the skin of her face stretched into a smile and her lipstick seemed like a red vine that was being strung a tad too tight. She spoke as she had before, but with less volume.

“Connor!” There was a young female voice coming from the doorway, interrupting Ms Pool just as she had begun the first utterance. Five of them (Lilith, of course, excluded) motioned to pay heed to whomever it was calling for the blonde. “Should I wait for you?”

“No, Cathy!” Connor called back, motioning his hand in a gesture telling her to go. She nodded, smiled in a sultry way and left the room. All attention returned to Ms Pool who was quietly anticipating the focus of her little group.

“Yes, now, you three were part of the first group and I very much approved of the piece you performed,” she started and Lilith could already feel the ‘but’ before Ms Pool opened her mouth to continue. “But, I feel that perhaps you are not playing the parts that would suit you best. Hm?”

It felt like a test. There was a pause between everyone that dared someone to disagree with her. The boys both shook their heads and made a face to fool someone that they were actually thinking about the question.

“No, I’m fine.” Was the general consensus of both boys, who were perfectly content in following the most efficient path through their school careers. But, of course, there was never to be a time when Lilith did not speak what was on her mind.

“Damn right!” she spoke as any of these kids would imagine one spoke in ‘the Ghetto’, but neither woman appeared fazed by it. “I hate my last part in this; sitting around waiting for Daddy to save me from my own Demons? Nah! I don’t mind fighting and losing to this demon, but I am not OK with just lying on the ground like some Disney Princess waiting for my knight in shining armour! Actually, you know what? I will be my own knight in shining armour! I will save myself, but I absolutely refuse for the Devil to be coming out of me and then I’m just sleeping on the ground, ‘cuz if he wants to possess me for any type of reason, he’s going to have to fight me tooth and nail for any kind of access.”

Lilith exhaled roughly as she finished her small rant, but Connor and the poor boys, who didn’t really know her, were both shrinking back towards Ms Pool in sensible caution. Rebecca was more aware of how Lilith was compared to anyone else in the room, but she stood her ground as you are told to do when threatened by a bear. But the lady herself, Ms Pool, did nothing but smile at Lilith’s entire tirade with a shrewd smirk. She bobbed her head in approval of what Lilith was saying and answered accordingly.

“Then perhaps, Lilith, you would do a better job with a more active role,” Ms Pool suggested. She turned her head from Lilith to alternate her gaze between the boys before stopping at Connor. “Connor, are you perfectly comfortable as the Devil? If there is any instinct of yours to play a different part, then perhaps Lilith could swap with you? The scenes would play with a son instead of a daughter, but the rest would be as it is.”

Connor pondered the idea, beginning to nod at the idea. He agreed to the suggestion quickly enough to convince Ms Pool that he’d really thought about more than getting on the teacher’s good side. Ms Pool smiled and turned her head to Jeremy and spoke only to him.

“Now, Jeremy,” she spoke softly and Lilith noticed his body tense up. “I understand that you are the main co-ordinator for this group?”

Jeremy was one of the rugby players for the school, but he apparently wasn’t so impressive as he was in the last team, still he was broad with strong shoulders and lightly muscles from head to toe. He stood tall and kept a very balanced and proper stance at all times. He had a set jaw and his eyes were entirely focused on Ms Pool. When Ms Pool asked him the question, he nodded brusquely and she smiled at him.

“I think perhaps you can assist this change.” Ms Pool began. “I’m thinking about keeping this Theatre open at lunch time, so that the three of you may rehearse these parts, unfortunately I am not available to watch throughout the entire time, but I would entrust with keeping things orderly. Shall I do that?”

Ms Pool had put Jeremy on the spot and, as he turned to ask everyone’s opinion, the entire group was looking at him in expectancy of his decision; nobody was overly concerned with rehearsing, but they would be annoyed by the loss of their free time. Lilith’s thoughts were with Ryan, who rarely spent any time with anyone else; what would he do if she weren’t there? She thought about for a moment when she felt a tap on her arm. She looked over and saw Connor had repositioned himself next to her.

“Ryan doesn’t need you to hold his hand, Lilith.” Connor whispered over to her. “He might even make a new friend.”

“Who asked for your opinion?” Lilith spat. She glared again before adding: “Telepath.”

Connor chuckled slightly. “I’m an Empath.” He looked over at her in full seriousness and she had donned the same expression. “He’ll be fine for one hour.”

“What if something happens again?”

“He can handle it.” Connor assured her.

“You mean like he handled it last time?”

“That was an unfortunate event,” he reminded her. “He had no power over the situation.”

“No. He had no power of the Lunar Eclipse.” She argued. “He got kidnapped and we had to save him.”

“Except he ended up saving us.” Connor retaliated.

“We’ll do the lunch time session, miss.” Jeremy announced just as Lilith was about to retort, but she closed her mouth now that their fate had been set in stone. There was a single clap fuelled by excitement from Ms Pool.

“Excellent!” She seemed genuinely happy that the group would be rehearsing, which seemed odd, but nobody ever questioned Ms Pool. “I thank you for you dedication, but I am obliged to send you off to your next lesson. So, for now, be gone! Return only by Fate’s intervention and then follow with wholesome blindness to your passion!”

~\*/~

The bell rang to signal the end of the fourth period and the beginning of lunch and Ryan stepped out of the Science Block with an expression of mass relief on his face. He’d never admit it to anyone, but Science just stole his life force and he could never explain why. It had to be something in the Maths or the Terminology, but Biology made his heart stop, in Chemistry there were no reactions and if Physics was about Velocity, Ryan’s brain was going 0m/s. Ryan stepped out onto the tarmac and clicked his neck, undoing about 50 minutes of pretending to be interested, but secretly trying to sleep and began to walk. He stopped when he heard someone call his name and smiled when he saw Connor catch up from behind him. They walked together across the Quad in the direction of the Theatre.

“Oh, Lilith didn’t mention you two were in the same group,” Ryan commented when Connor brought up the rehearsal. “I’m sure you’re very good at it, it’s probably just that she-”

“Hates me?” Connor smiled, but Ryan was embarrassed now.

“I’m sorry about her. She’s actually really nice and, once she gets to know you, I’m sure you’ll both be great friends.” Ryan seemed to be pleading with him more than convincing him, but Connor just laughed it off.

“It’s fine, I get it, she’s territorial.” He shrugged. “But we already have a few things in common.”

“Really?” Ryan seemed genuinely surprised, but he was mostly happy that they had some connection.

“Yeah!” Connor continued. “I mean, obviously there’s the Drama and the magic and we both care about you, so it’ll be fine.”

Connor’s eyes widened as he realised what he said and the silence between them was quickly intercepted by his reaction. “Well, I mean it’s not like I meant that I ‘care’ about you! Not like that, I mean, I do care! It’s more that I don’t want to see you get hurt because-”

“Connor.” This time it was Ryan’s smile that stopped Connor in mid sentence. “You’ve got to stop panicking when you say things like that. I know you mean it as friends. I’m gay, not desperate. There’s a difference, you know?”

Connor apologised with a guilty expression masking his face and Ryan took pity. He patted the blonde’s shoulder and smiled his guilt away.

“Ok. Now, go to your rehearsal.” Ryan ordered with a mock aggressive voice and Connor smiled at Ryan’s attempt at authority, but he followed his orders regardless, jogging off towards the Theatre and leaving Ryan smiling after him in the middle of the Quad.

As his friend disappeared past a corner and into the building, Ryan huffed lightly and contemplated on what he would do with the hour he had to himself. No Lilith. No Connor. Nothing to do. There was a sudden lack in things for him to do with himself; he had no homework due and there were no exams to revise for and there were no meetings and he really didn’t talk to anyone else in the school. There was just a great sense of sparseness settling weightlessly upon his shoulders.

Then, by great coincidence, there was a real, quick weight upon his shoulder. IT disappeared. It then reappeared and then disappeared. Ryan quickly snapped his head around to see who had tapped his shoulder and came face to face with his Latin teacher, Mr --. Mr – was a tall, thin man with brown, perfectly combed hair and a 5 o’clock shadow. Dressed in a dark suit, he stood at a kindly 6’ 4”, but he didn’t make any of his students feel small. He was a nice teacher with a sense of humour and a great tolerance for all his students. He was smiling down at Ryan who was gleefully beaming back up at him. There were the usual polite greetings between the two of them before Mr – announced that there’d been a memo sent for Ryan.

“Your mum apparently needs to pick you up early.” he said was in the e-mail. “She wanted to pick you up at, actually, about now by the Main Building. I’d be on your way.”

“Oh! Thank you!” Ryan exclaimed before running off.

As he ran, Ryan thought about this; it was rare that his mother ever took him out of school early and she’d never do it without telling him before he left for school the morning before. He had seen his GP two months ago and the dentist the month before, so he wasn’t due for any kind of check-up. There was always the chance of an emergency, but would she send a message through his teachers before texting him about it? That wasn’t like her either. Was this some kind of scheduled surprise, but for what? Definitely not a birthday; Ryan thought about it and concluded that they didn’t know anybody born in November. There was an inexplicable sense of urgency in his blood now; he didn’t like the idea of not knowing why his mum was coming to his school, he didn’t know why and she hadn’t told him earlier. Very quickly Ryan had jolted into a run, his face was a picture of worry and he burst into the building with little hesitation, startling some of the younger, unprepared students who had appeared in his way. He ran down the custard coloured halls and past the white doors of the school’s officials before he came to the 10’ tall half-glass doors. Ryan approached the doors quickly and peered through the glass. He saw the back of his mother’s head, she was dressed in her casual clothing; he noticed a white collar folded over her denim jacket that must’ve been older than him. He was glad to see that she was all right, but he was still biting his bottom lip from the nerves, but he was biting so hard that it may only be a few moments more before he drew blood. The door had a buzzer that unlocked it from the inside, so Ryan didn’t hesitate to push down on the button and let himself out. When he got outside he went straight up to his mother and looked her dead in the eye with worry flashing through his face.

“Mum. What’s happening?” Ryan asked hurriedly. His breathing was heavy, but his mum looked unconcerned. There was a smirk growing on her face, but it was not the smug, knowing smile that he had become accustomed to his mother wearing, the smug was both hotter and colder than usual, it seemed naturally more intense, as if she suddenly knew a lot more, but she had a gleam in her eyes that resonated a darker aura, a sense of evil that Ryan couldn’t shake off. That same dark aura was also the single most attractive thing Ryan had ever looked at; the look in his mother’s eyes made him suddenly feel as if any and every whim his mother ever desired would be both his pleasure and his honour to fulfil. Then, as this dark aura infested his reasoning and consumed his ability to think independently beyond remembering to breathe, the change began.

Celia’s short brown hair began to swish around her head, twisting and contorting and shrinking back into her scalp like snakes slithering back into holes in the ground. Then her skin darkened into a swivelling merge of all the shades he’d ever seen a person’s skin to be, a combination of African and Caucasian and Asian and Hispanic and Indian and everything else. She grew slightly with jagged movements like someone with arthritis trying to enlarge an image in Microsoft Word until she was much taller than she had ever seemed to him before, but in truth she had only grown to about 6’ 5”. Her face then started to morph with her cheekbones sounding like they were snapping and moving around like large bugs crawling around under her skin, but then the bones suddenly snapped upwards and it showed sharper cheekbones than Celia had ever had before. Finally, the eyes began to change, her eyes began to sharpen and become as focused as hawks and the colour faded from her dark green to a mist of the colour spectrum; there was a cover of silver, but Ryan could clearly define a host of colours zooming around the iris.

And now, Celia, Ryan’s mother, was gone from sight and before him stood a remarkably attractive young man. His eyes were fired up with energy and they shot like a chef’s daggers and pierced through Ryan’s retina into his soul. By his enforced instinct, Ryan’s eyes had activated into their negative state, but even then he could see nothing else beside the young man looking down at him with the very smile that had remained throughout the transformation. Then, finally, the movements stopped and Ryan was looking at him in full glory.

He was tall and slim, but there was something that even a mortal could see about the man that radiated power. However, this kind of power was intertwined with effects of confidence and desire and something else that just made one feel wonderful about themselves. It was the same sensation that had enveloped Connor when Ryan had disappeared. He was still dressed in his mother’s denim jacket and white collared shirt, but he was also wearing black leather trousers and men’s heeled shoes. Ryan should’ve been afraid, but the look of the man staring down at him filled him with a submissive confidence in the situation as he spoke two words that seemed to stop his heart.

“Blessed Be, White Eye.”