by Al K. Line
"But you're a ghoul, you're meant to look like this." I never considered that he might have an issue with his looks. Hidden didn't think this way, as to them their appearance was how it should be. Trolls didn't want to look like dwarves, imps didn't want to look like wizards, and ghouls didn't want to look like, well, anything but ghouls. Hidden may be many things, but having body issues was a new one on me. That was the domain of insecure, body dysmorphic humans. Looking back on it now, I really wish I'd said this to him, it could have saved a lot of bother.
"But I've been here a long time now, and I like it here. I have a past, Kate, all ghouls do. Not that I remember it, it doesn't work like that, and I must have done something truly terrible to become a ghoul, but I've had enough. I want to be normal. Look nice, be able to shave and go have haircuts, go shopping for clothes, all of that. Even have dates." He smiled and watched his hands tapping at his legs, and I guess I finally understood.
Our date must have been excruciating for him. He knew I was doing it to repay a debt, not because I wanted to merely have dinner with him. That his appearance was off-putting, his way of life gross to us humans, or ex-humans as I guess I am, and that must cut deep if you have the mindset to allow such things to trouble you.
"Okay, so the potion would make you human?"
"Maybe. I had another week to go, then it would have been ready. But you touched the glass, it woke early, and it wasn't ready. As soon as it got the blood it alerted the others, and they've come to investigate. Ugh, we're done for," he wailed, clutching his head as he wept.
"Don't worry," I said, putting an arm around his shoulder. "I'm sure we'll work something out."
Sometimes I surprise myself with how good I am at lying.
Divorce Springs to Mind
"Okay, so who are the stretchy guys?" I asked, removing my arm from the Chemist's shoulder and trying not to wince too obviously at the layer of greasy grime now streaking my forearm. Maybe being human wouldn't be such a bad decision for him to make. Certainly if it meant he'd shower more often.
The Chemist just groaned and sank further in on himself.
So I slapped him, like I would a gnat, knowing what would happen. He flew off the bench sideways, body still crumpled, and didn't land until he hit the arch of a low tunnel. He crashed down onto the muddy pathway, several dirty red bricks nearly braining him. Bats flew out from the tunnel, disturbed by the commotion, which was kind of apt, or symbolic, or something. Not that I am a bat, but vampire legend is so strong many newly turned ask when they get the wings.
I stormed over, splashing through the puddles, and yanked him to his feet. I was utterly calm. This wasn't me losing the plot, quite the opposite. Bizarrely, I wanted to help, even though he'd put me in a dangerous situation unnecessarily. If you can't help friends when they're down, even if it was you who put them on their ass, then who can you help?
I held him up against the wall, feet inches above a puddle, then thought better of it and shifted so he dangled over the dark water. Getting right up in his face, I said, "If you want, I can just throw you in now. If you think your life is so worthless that you're giving up then please, let me help you finish it. There are rats in here, and maybe they'll get a meal out of you, or maybe you'll just sink and die and bloat up and rot away. You want that? Answer me!"
"Okay, okay, I get the point. Gee, you could have just punched me on the arm, gently." The Chemist smiled at me and I couldn't help myself, I smiled back.
Something about him made me think of him as a child, helpless in the world, unable to understand it, and in some ways he was an innocent. So obsessed with his alchemy and comedy that he failed to grasp the nature of the world he was in.
Or, and this was a possibility, he was a self-centered bastard and just wanted to be left alone. You know, like most other people. Maybe he was already more human than he thought.
I turned and dropped him down onto the path then we walked back to the bench.
Neither of us sat.
"You good?"
"I'm good." The Chemist turned away from staring at the water and said, "Thank you. You're right. I need to deal with this."
"No. We need to deal with this. We're friends. But no more running away and leaving me behind. Friends look out for each other. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Now, can you please tell me who the hell the guys after us are."
"They're the—"
My phone rang, startling us both. I grabbed my jacket off the bench and fished it out of a pocket, knowing that calls late in the evening should never be ignored.
I put up a hand so the Chemist would be quiet, and said, "Hello?"
"Kate, it's me. Faz."
"Faz? Where are you?"
"Um, yeah, well, this is a little awkward."
"Awkward how?"
"Awkward as in can you come and get me?"
"Get you? What's going on?"
"I, well, I was getting worried about you, but I, er, I didn't want to interrupt, and I fancied a drive, so I headed over to the Chemist's and thought I'd just check nothing had happened. You know what he's like, his potions and all."
"I know," I sighed.
"The place was a mess, but neither of you were there, so I knew you'd be okay. Then there was this weird pink cloud that kept following me down the road as I checked things out, and there were these three dudes, lanky pieces of shit that—Oomf."
"Faz? Faz? Hello?" My heart raced, my eyes snapped to black, and my fangs snicked down so fast I pierced my bottom lip. Blood trickled from the corner of my mouth, the familiar tang of iron that drove me wild and made me lose my mind. Everything went blurry as magic swirled and anger surfaced.
"Bring filthy potion maker to us… or… wizard dies," said a stuttering, emotionless voice. Deep and throaty like a forty-a-day smoker after a heavy session and a mouthful of fine gravel. His words were broken, as though speaking wasn't something he did too often.
I gave the Chemist a serious stare, the one I've perfected after spending so much time with Grandma—witches can wilt a daisy at a hundred yards and make it so shamed it blushes scarlet—then said, "If you harm him I'll rip you to pieces and feed you to the Beast of Babylonius." I don't think there is such a beast, but it sounded suitably menacing and I was winging it.
"You mortals. So funny." He didn't sound in the least amused.
"I'm no mortal, I am vampire."
There was silence on the other end of the line, then muffled conversation.
"We do not wish to involve vampires. Send Chemist… then man goes free."
"No deal. I come with him, we talk. You hurt my husband and you die." You never negotiate with hostage takers, you lie and cheat until you can pull a fast one and kill them. Enforcer training 101. Okay, I made that up, but was smart enough to know how this game worked.
"Come to big…" there was a muffled discussion then Mr. Creepy came back on. "Castle, you call it castle. We wait."
The line went dead.
"You utter dick," I screamed at the Chemist.
Seriously, what is with these people?
Men!
"He's supposed to be recuperating at home," I mumbled after I'd exhausted myself with a tirade of abuse aimed at the Chemist. Fair play, he stood and took it, although he was probably too scared to even think of running away.
"Kate, would you mind telling me what happened?" asked the Chemist cautiously. I guess I was rather formidable with ink so fat on my forearms it was casting sparks that lit up the trash floating idly by on the sluggish water.
"Eh? Oh, yeah. You men!"
"You think of me as a man?" he asked brightly, looking cheered up no end.
"Of course. You've got a dangly thing between your legs and you're an idiot, what else can you be?"
"A man," mused the Chemist. "I guess I am."
I swear, he actually did a little skip. Yep, definitely a man all right.
"Prat," I muttered.
Mind a mess of conflicting emotions, body
intent on blasting magic and flinging corpses so high they'd get stuck on the crescent moon and hang there for eternity as a warning not to mess with me or mine, I pushed the irresponsible ideas down and tried to think logically.
They wanted to meet at the castle, they wanted the Chemist, and they had my husband. Who were they and why were they so bothered by my stinky companion and his potion making?
Time to get answers, then I could formulate a plan.
"Sit down," I ordered, in no mood for niceties. The Chemist plonked himself down on the bench, still grinning like a fool. "Tell me who they are. And be quick about it. I don't know how much time we have. They'll either kill Faz or he'll try something stupid and get himself killed anyway."
"Yeah, the Black Spark does like a fight."
"Just get on with it." I was about to punch him into next week but restrained myself. I'd only have to go get him.
Mister Scabby
"They're Elders," explained the Chemist, talking in reverent tones. There was a hint of something else in his voice. Not disgust, maybe disappointment, envy, definitely something. "They lead us, guide us, make our rules. The ancient ones deliver the punishments, are responsible for our existence, everything. They pass judgment, decide the sentence, and are very, very scary."
"So you decided to piss them off?"
"It's not my fault. How was I to know they'd come looking for me?"
"But you did know, didn't you? That's why you were making this potion in secrecy. Why you did a runner as soon as it got loose. You knew they'd be after you for what you were trying to do, so don't play the innocent."
"Maybe a little. But I figured if I made the potion and it worked, then I'd be in the clear. They're ghoul Elders, if I was a human they'd have no sway over me any more. I'd be free."
"Like the ghoul police?"
"I guess."
"But you're stuck on earth, not there, wherever there is. Surely what you do here can't be their concern?"
"I'm still ghoul, so they still control me. Always will. I want to be free, I don't want someone telling me what to do. I want to make the rules."
"I've got news for you. There will always be someone telling you what to do. Being human doesn't free you, it just ties you to another set of laws. Everyone answers to somebody else. Everyone."
"At least I'll have nice hair and can wear aftershave without it making my skin blister and burn."
"Fair enough." He had a point about that. "Is it true you're only stuck here because of all the potions you've made?" I asked, feeling now was as good a time as any to get the truth.
The Chemist nodded. "Used to be, I would come and go, dip my toe in human waters so to speak. I'd tinker about, found myself a little pad, and over the years, then the decades, I got more into the alchemy. And the comedy. The more I perfected my craft, the more things I ingested or inhaled, the longer I seemed to stay before getting dragged back home. Then one day I rather fancied a trip to the old place, but found I was stuck. The rest is history."
"So you've taken in so many poisons and viruses and whatnot that you aren't quite what you used to be and you can't leave?"
"Yup. I'm immune to every poison, virus, and disease there is. Built up immunity over the decades. I'm quite the original you know."
"You sure are a one off." The Chemist smiled. Guess he could take it as a compliment if he wanted. "And these Elders, they're what, like uber ghouls or something?"
"Kate, you don't understand at all. They aren't like me, like us. They're old, I mean seriously old. Been around since the beginning. Ghouls are kind of demons, but different. All Hidden, those that are somewhat human in appearance, we all came here at the same time. Our reality is yours, it's all mixed up. The Elders are the first, the originals, from which all other ghouls came. I am them, they are me."
Now I was lost. Was he talking mythology, religion, or truth? "You mean they're like the first ghouls?"
"No, they're the only ghouls. There are only three, the Elders. I am their child, they are my fathers. We are one."
"Come on, that's just storytelling, like saying all humans came from the rib of Adam." The Chemist looked at me seriously, then nodded once. "Haha," I laughed a little nervously. "Are you telling me that's true? I've seen way too much to believe in some story."
"Kate, trust me, humans were created, same as ghouls, just in a slightly different way. I am but a scab, a discarded piece of skin from an Elder. We all are. Ghouls I mean. I'm part of them. Maybe not an important part, but a part nonetheless. You are part of a rib. Look, I don't mean literally, I mean back in the olden times, when the first humans or ghouls were created, however many that was, that's how it happened. Then ghouls had babies, same as humans did, and here we are."
"Here we are," I agreed. "So, how do we stop them?"
"We don't. It would be like trying to kill God himself. They are immortal, original ghouls, about as Hidden as you can get. You don't kill something like that."
"Guess we'll just have to be sneaky then."
I'm good at sneaky.
Rescuing Hubby
When ghoulish overlords have kidnapped your husband because he's an idiot and can't resist getting into trouble, there's only one thing a gal can do.
She calls her lodger—a demonic escapee reincarnated as a young man more concerned with girls than hell, but that's another story—and plans an ingenious attack.
Surprisingly, it was a washout.
When we arrived, our cunning rescue all mapped out and magic ready to do what it did best, we found only one person present. Sure, it was late, so the grounds were closed, but I'd expected to fight, not almost faint.
"Hey," said Faz, grinning like a fool as he rested casually against a lichen-covered statue, trying to act relaxed even though I could tell he was close to collapse.
A large irregular circle of grass around him was scorched black, ancient carved stones jutting from the ground were covered in ash, the walls several meters away smoked, all the local ghosts cowered around the castle's impressive walls, and the entire area was covered in craters large and small.
We approached in a line, me in the middle, the Chemist a pace back to my left, Mithnite to my right, his magic primed and ready to blast the scabfathers back to the beginning of time.
"Hey yourself," I said, unable to hold back a smile of relief. Then I frowned, dashed forward, and hugged Faz tight. He gasped, then collapsed against me, the last of his energy gone.
I laid him down on the still steaming ground, then stood back as it happened. He must have just finished using magic, as his payback was only now coming to call. Sometimes it takes a minute to claim its price, sometimes a second, and judging by how severe it was, Faz had used way more than he should have, than he had to give.
Even as I watched I knew he was screwed, that he'd set back his recovery by weeks if not months. He was supposed to stay out of Hidden affairs entirely, but I guess he didn't have much choice. Although, he could have just remained at home and not been so nosy. It wasn't as if he thought I'd run off with the Chemist to start a new life in a basement somewhere, spend my days stirring potions and picking scabs off the ghoul while he practiced his stand-up.
We scoured the area but there was no one there to worry about. The Elders were gone, maybe scared off by whatever Faz had done—he is formidable when on form. I assumed he'd done enough to give us some time.
Faz curled up in a ball, tucked his knees up to his chin, and it began. He screamed, he rolled around, he moaned, groaned, and made noises like a cat that really wants its dinner, plus some sounds new to me.
Sweat poured from him, sparks of magic danced viciously and accusingly from his ink, his clothes smoked from the heat of the smoldering earth and he kept poking his fingers in his ears as he writhed this way and that, paying in agony for stealing magic from the Empty to fuel his addiction, to protect us and save himself.
It's a hard thing to witness, especially as I was the one he'd gifted his newfound strength to. H
e'd reached a point in his life where there was no longer payback, where he could use magic without fear of the terrible comedown, but he'd gone right back to the beginning of the pain, like an apprentice, even though he had the potential to still use the energy in ways only someone with a century of experience could.
But that was when he was well, and he was far from that, so this, this was stupid, and dangerous, and I was scared for my husband's wellbeing.
Minutes later he stilled. Faz was soaked through, steaming, breathing like an exhausted dog, but already trying to get up. Mithnite and I helped him to stand and he tried to speak but couldn't get the words out.
"Give it a minute, then you'll be okay," I soothed. "Take it easy."
"They… they want… want you." Faz pointed a shaky finger at the Chemist, who had the good sense to look abashed for the trouble he'd caused.
"Maybe I should let them have me, take my punishment," he said sorrowfully.
"No. You're our friend, and if you want to be a man then act like one. Faz hurt himself to protect you, and not just because you got me involved. Mithnite will help too. Right?"
Mithnite nodded and said, "Sure thing."
He was at that age where everything was an adventure, and besides, after what I'd gone through to help him stay here, he felt a real affinity for the Chemist's struggle after I'd explained what had happened. Just another wanderer wanting to stay on earth and live life as a human being. Talk about collecting the lost souls, we'd have a house full soon enough.
And then we did.
Faz groaned then fell, smacked his head against the statue, and didn't wake up for a week. In that time things got, shall we say, a little messy.
Kitchen Blues
"Oh, for fu—"
"Language," warned Mithnite with a smirk.
"I don't know what you're smiling about," I growled, kicking a tin of what looked like cat food out of my way. I assumed it was cat food, it had a picture of a cat on it. Why does pet food have a picture on it of the animal it's for, when human food has a picture of the animal that's in it? It's weird.