In Which It Rains Quite a Bit
Michael sat at his desk, quill scratching against the parchment. Hm. If he added just one more pinch of salt to the list, it would perfect the engorging solution.
Or combust.
To be honest, he couldn't quite remember which. What had Howl taught him? A pinch of salt and… and the shrinking halts? And your face melts? He scratched the back of his head, eyes narrowed. Honestly, what was Howl playing at, giving him such a stupid spell to work on? He was just slithering out again, that's what this was.
"Michaaael…"
Michael glanced back at the fireplace. No, he wasn't going to take the bait. He had stocked the wood not an hour ago. If Calcifer had burned through that many logs in such a short span, it was his own damn fault.
"Michaaaaeel," Calcifer crackled again.
No. No, he wasn't going to rise.
"Miiiiiiiiichaaaaaaaaaeel," Calcifer called, his thin voice rising and falling in a twisted tune. "Michael. Michael. Michaaeelll. Micha—"
"What do you want?" Michael snapped at last.
"Oh. I thought you couldn't hear me," Calcifer said gleefully.
"What do you want?" Michael repeated.
"It's raining."
Michael's eyes flicked to the window. "No, it's not."
"That's Kingsbury!" Calcifer popped, rising in his grate. "Open the door to the castle! It's raining!"
Michael grunted and stood, then went to the landing. He turned the worn knob to the castle's back entrance and heaved the door open. "So it is."
"Michael, it's dripping on me," Calcifer moaned, rolling over in his place. "I don't like it."
"You'll start to sound like Howl with all that complaining," Michael said, shutting the rain out once more. He spun the knob Kingsbury down for good measure and the patter of rain disappeared.
That seemed to shut Calcifer up. The flickering demon shrank back among the logs, gleaming eyes following Michael's path back across the room. "Bleehh," Calcifer said quietly, sticking his tongue out between the iron slats.
"I don't have to see you to know what you're doing," Michael said, flipping the page of his textbook. "And stop glaring."
"You don't know that I'm glaring."
"Yes, I do." Michael slammed the tome shut and began scratching away at the spell again. Damn Calcifer. Damn the rain. Damn Howl. Somehow, this was all his fault.
"Michaaaeeell."
"Calcifer, do me a favour and simmer down for a while. I'll feed you half my dinner if you do." Michael decided that bargaining was the safest solution. Calcifer had a peculiar fondness for bargains, after all.
Calcifer roared up the length of the fireplace, arms wiggling. "That was not me! Honestly, I can't believe you would mistake that manchild's grating voice for my own sweet crackle!"
"Yeah, because you sound so pleasant all the time," Michael growled. Then, he called up the stairs, "What do you want, Howl?"
"Michaaaelll," Howl drawled.
"What, Howl?"
"It's raining, Michael."
Michael slammed his palm into his forehead. "Yes, I know it's raining, Howl. I know. Calcifer told me. I saw."
"No, Michael, it's really pouring!" A glittering silver sleeve appeared in the stairwell, followed by the rest of Howl's suit and, finally, Howl. "Have you seen the droplets? They're the size of cattle!"
"I'm not sure where you were looking, but I'm quite sure they were not of an unusual dimension," Michael replied. "Howl, when you said a pinch of salt, did you—"
"It's turned the grass all grey!" Howl continued, ignoring his apprentice's comment completely. Then again, Howl may not have been doing it maliciously, Michael reasoned. He just may simply be an idiot. "And the sky! Have you seen the sky? It's fantastic!" Howl crossed the room in a few long strides and jumped down the three steps to the door. He flipped the knob and wrenched the door open excitedly, sticking his head out.
"Don't do that, Howl, you'll—"
"Bother!" Howl retreated quickly, hair soaked. "I'll ruin my suit! Damn this inclement weather! Michael, perform a spell to fix this!"
"What—your clothes?" Michael replied.
"As if I would let you touch my clothes," Howl sniffed, patting his hands daintily across his shoulders. He flicked back his hair and the water fell about him in a neat ring. He surveyed a lock of gleaming blonde. "I will have to bathe again to repair this damage. Heavens, it is such work to be so beautiful."
"Howl," Calcifer said, rising from his hiding place once he had made certain Howl was quite dry, "are you, by any chance, pursuing another heart?"
"And if I am?" Howl replied.
"I shall snap your guitar in two and use the strings to garrotte you with," Michael said wearily.
"Michael!" Howl exclaimed, shocked. "How could you? My apprentice? To think that you would stand in the way of my love!"
"Love," Calcifer snorted.
"Love," Michael repeated for good measure.
"Love," Howl agreed, completely missing the point.
Michael stifled a sob of sheer exasperation and turned back to his paper. "Was it a pinch of salt, then, or—"
"I do like the rain, though," Howl mused. "Not when it's off ruining my suits, of course, but when it turns the world sepia-tone. Rain is romantic. Remember that, apprentice."
"I still hate it," Calcifer grumbled. "It gets in all the cracks and drips on me."
"Are you still on about that?" Howl asked, well-groomed eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Yes, Howl," Calcifer crackled. "Switch places with me and you'll understand."
"I don't need to do that, friend. I already have," Howl replied absently. "But if the drips persist, I'll have Michael fix them for you."
"Howl…" Michael warned.
"See? He's already volunteering." Howl patted Michael jovially on the shoulder. "Good lad. And now, I have to go see a lady about a pony." Before either the apprentice or the demon could react, he snatched up his guitar, spun the knob back to Kingsbury and slithered out the door.
"Damn him," Michael said. "Damn every hair on his empty head. I hope it turns as black as his cursed heart!"
Calcifer turned in his place, a frightfully fanged smile on his flickering face. "Oh, Miiiichaaaaeeeellll…"
