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.”
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