Young Writers Society

A/N: Totally unedited, random collab.  

Prologue

The voices had been low at first, no more than the annoying buzz of an insistent mosquito, but they slowly grew louder until it was impossible for me to ignore them any longer. Humans had tried to summon me before. I seldom bothered to answer them, neither with my presence nor by making my voice heard, but this time it was different. I didn't recognise the words that were being chanted, not even the language, yet the crude and twisted power behind them was unmistakeable. Even as I moved to another realm the tendrils of that power still clung to me.

It would be a lie to say that I wasn't curious about where that power came from, and if I could learn how to use it, but first I needed to get away from the infernal sound of those voices.

It eventually turned out to be a hopeless struggle.

The power of those words wrapped itself around my whole being, tethering me to a faraway point and forcing me to come closer. It's hard to tell whether I was more afraid or angry at that point, but I felt them both more prominently than I had in years.

After being dragged back through several realms, I found myself uncomfortably crammed into the body of a small boy. As I stared up at the people I later learned were his parents, I could feel the mind of that boy hiding somewhere far inside his own head; tired, hurt and afraid. From it, I could take the information I needed to figure out where I was and why, and as his parents watched me in awe, I felt my anger grow even further. Not only had they chained me to a useless little child, but they had done so by accident, trying to sacrifice me to turn their own son into a pet demon.

“Well... that was stupid.” Their smiles faded as I broke the chains holding the boy down against an altar. “Humans should know better than to try to use someone so much more powerful than them.”

As the man tried to speak, his voice sounding choked because of his fear, as he knew they had failed and could do nothing to stop me now, I swung the part of the chain still attached to the boy's wrist and hit his head with a satisfying crunching sound. The woman looked at his body with an unbelieving expression, and I could feel the boy's mind stirring. Amusingly enough, he didn't seem afraid or upset, but instead grateful towards me, like I had somehow done him a kindness.

“Free me, or I will kill you too,” I demanded simply, yet the dumb thing did nothing but stare with wide eyes. “Free me. Now.”

My tone finally made her react. “I... I don't know how. This was not supposed to happen.”

I couldn't help but frown. “Where did you get the spell?”

She gestured mutely at the tome before her, and a second later she joined her husband on the floor.

Chapter 1

Autumn came silently to the Magnolia Road that morning, on the wings on the wind blowing over the rooftops. It had been raining over the night, and the spiked fences and nearly naked trees were still covered in tiny drops, reflecting the sun as the door to the Withinghall mansion opened. It let out a man in his fifties, in spotless dark suit and a posture that could shame the royals. As he made his way down the four steps of the stair and a short path leasing to the fence around the property a small silver brooch in the shape of a fox caught the sunlight. It shone, and for a short moment almost seemed alive, as the man took some letters out of the mailbox and then hurried back inside. He closed and locked the door after himself, not letting the autumn wind inside.

The hallway was silent as the butler made his way through. He gave a short look to the large empty square on the wall between two tall windows, and stopped for a moment under the staircase. There was no sound to be heard from above – both lords must've still been asleep – and the butler allowed himself a silent sigh before turning to the dining room, carrying the letter in his hand carefully as if they were made of glass.

“Thompson.”

The man turned again, gripping the letters in his hand, his eyes turning to the boy standing at the top of the stairs. A man, he had to remind himself. My lord is no longer a child. Neither of them is. He smiled as his master made his way down, seeming cheerful in the way he was almost jumping down the stairs.

“Good morning, Eric,” Thompson said. “I hope you slept well.”

Eric grinned. “Like a baby... Are those for me?”

The butlers eyes followed his to the letters, and he shook his head slightly. “I'm afraid not. They're all addressed to your brother.”

Eric nodded, making his way past Thompson and into the dining room, where he took the seat at the head of the table and looked at the butler expectantly.

Thompson took the cue and walked out again, making his way to the kitchens. By the time he had answered all the questions of the servants and left the letters in the older lord's study, Eric had already been served his breakfast. Returning to the dining room, Thompson found him with his arms crossed, frowning at the ham one of the footmen were cutting in front of him.

“I want chocolate cake,” he announced as he noticed the butler. Thompson smiled a little. Fifteen years of age and his master was still acting like a child.

“There's some of it in the kitchen,” he said, “but breakfast is an important meal, and of the young lord would just-”

Eric's fingers tapped on the table. “Your young lord is away. Sleeping, and I want chocolate cake.” The boy's lips stretched into a smile as a reply to the butler's expression. “I thought we had already established the way this works. When I say there's something I want, each and every one of you humans is to get it for me.” His smile widened. “That is, unless you fancy your young lord staying asleep permanently, and you enjoying my everlasting company instead?”

Thompson swallowed. “Master. I... Forgive me. I did not realize it was you.”

Eric smirked. “Am I that convincing, or are you that easily fooled?”

“You're that convincing,” the butler said quickly. “Of course.”

“Of course.” The boy's expression was unreadable for a long moment, before he suddenly smiled again. “Well then, will I get that cake any time before this body turns to dust and bones?”

This time, it took the butler mere seconds to reach the kitchens again.

*

When the older of Thompson's two young lords walked into the dining room, Eric was standing by one of the walls, observing an old family portrait. It was one of the few still left in the house, that showed the Withinghall parents with their two sons – all the others, including the largest one in the hallway, were taken away years ado, shortly after the death of the lord and lady.

“Good morning, big brother,” the younger lord called in a singsong voice.

His brother gave him a somewhat wary look before taking his seat at the table. “Good morning,” he muttered, “but you're not my brother.”

“Now, now, Daniel...” Eric walked up to stand behind his back, gently wrapping his arms around him. “Don't be like that. It's such a lovely morning. Why ruin it with details?”

Daniel sighed. “I'm hungry,” he said after a moment. “Can you let me eat, please? I understand that you don't need food to survive, but I'd appreciate-”

“But that's not true.” Eric's lips were closer to Daniel's ear now. The older of the two young men could feel his little brother's breath against his neck, and a moment later Eric's lips brushed against his skin. “I do need to eat. I just don't eat all the strange and lovely foods you humans prefer.”

“Don't...” Daniel squirmed as Eric's arms hugged him tighter. “Stop it. Don't be like that with his body.”

Eric chuckled, not taking his lips away from Daniel's neck. “Do you want me to let him out? I guarantee you he wouldn't mind...”

Daniel pushed himself up, stepping away from Eric's grasp. The younger brother pouted. “So mean... Should we cry? I'm sure I can achieve that.”

“I need to go.” Daniel's voice was sharp, and he avoided Eric's eyes. Without even sparing a glance to the food and the the half eaten chocolate cake on the table, he turned his back to the boy still standing behind one of the chairs, and walked out without another word.

*

The bells chimed as Daniel opened the door to the small antique store.

“Lord Withinghall, welcome back,” the clerk behind the counter greeted him, in almost exact same tone as the bells above the door. “You're here early today.”

Daniel could feel himself relax as he looked around between the well polished furniture and ornaments, each thing a piece of art in itself. “Ah, yes, I happened to find myself with some time on my hands, and I wanted to see if Mr Lowsley had gotten any new clocks in.”

That wasn't the whole truth, of course, it seldom was. He could still feel the lingering sensation of his little brother's lips on his skin, and it unsettled him in a way that made him consider seeing a priest.

But when was the last time confessing made you feel better? he thought before simply dismissing the idea. It would probably just get him locked in an asylum.

“My father brought a new one in yesterday. Would you like to take a look?”

Daniel turned with a smile to look at the young woman who appeared from the back of the store. “I don't think I even have to answer that, Miss Lowsley.”

He chuckled and she giggled, and the clerk had trouble hiding that the close familiarity between the two made him uncomfortable, but the young man and girl didn't seem to notice his expression. Daniel found great comfort in her innocent laughter, and she had for a long time imagined a safe and stable future with her childhood friend.

She led him to the back of the store, where she showed him the new clock that her father had acquired. It was an unusually large grandfather clock, painted completely blue and adorned with colourful painted flowers flowing in a slightly waved pattern all around it.

They talked for some time about the clock, and later about the weather, what Catherine had been up to and lastly, Daniel's upcoming birthday celebration. When he was younger, before his parents decided to bind his brother to a demon, Catherine and her father were often invited to his birthdays, but nowadays there was rarely anyone invited to the Withinghall manner, since Daniel was afraid of what the demon might do. His younger brother's condition had to remain a secret no matter what.

Catherine probably noticed that Daniel was starting to pull away, because she suddenly changed the topic, pointing out the new dress her father had gotten her. As always, Daniel was relieved that she never pushed the issue. He knew he was being rude to her, and she was beyond graceful, and he wanted to make it up to her somehow, though he had no idea how to do that.

Their conversation was eventually interrupted by Mr Lowsley entering with his usual broad smile, the one that Catherine had inherited. He seemed completely unaffected by the supposedly inappropriate situation.

“Lord Withinghall, it's nice to see you again. I hope you're actually planning to buy something this time, and not just chat with my daughter?” The question was followed by a heartfelt laugh, and Daniel could feel himself nod even though he knew he shouldn't bring home any more old clocks, but he couldn't help himself. He loved the store and the owner and his daughter, and he had never even once seen another customer inside – though the wares did come and go.

“Brilliant! This old beauty deserves a fine home after coming here all the way from the north.”

Mr Lowsley and Daniel scheduled for the clock to be brought to the manor later that day, and as Daniel was about to leave, Catherine reached up and kissed his cheek quickly.

“Happy birthday in advance, if I don't see you before then.” She seemed to hesitate for a brief moment before going on. “You know you can talk to me if something is bothering you, right?”

He nodded, touched by the gesture. “I know, thank you.”