WE DON'T HAVE TO BE ALONE – CHAPTER 26
In those long, yet short, hours of sleep he allowed himself, Pitch didn't rest much. Sibilant voices hounded him, whispering fears not driven away yet, dark tentacles surrounded him, trying to wrap him and suffocate him in their tar coils, nightmarish creatures visited him, attempting to devour his face and soul, beasts and spirits of all shapes and sizes tormented him, making him flounder in a bedlam of pain from which fatigue prevented him from re-emerging, and then kicks, punches, bites, delicate, in truth, but anyway sufficiently well delivered to steal him suffering cries, and then solid and angular spirals, wet mouths, warm vibrations, which had something oddly reassuring in that pit of hell, but which the Boogeyman, for fear, couldn't trust enough to let himself go in them: the whole world seemed to have mobilized to torture him.
Terrified and confused, the man resisted for long, fighting tooth and nail against the visible monsters and with his mind against the invisible ones, driven by an indefinite something in his heart which shouted he had suffered too much and he couldn't give up, and finally, after what seemed almost an eternity, he won: a more violent contraction, a louder growl, and his eyelids lifted, unsticking themselves from those disturbing dreams and bringing him back to reality.
A familiar wooden ceiling welcomed him, comforting him with the soft trick of light and shadows which rose not only between a beam and the other, but even in their own veinings, and giving him all the time to get used to the brightness of the fire strangely still going, and the man, recognizing the room where he had been sleeping for months, calmed down; indulging in a silent yawn, he tried to stretch, eager to recover as soon as possible to take stock of the situation, but something held him back, anchoring him to the mattress, and, fully realizing only at that time the position in which he was, he easily understood what had happened, and struggled to hold back a laugh.
Extricating himself with difficulty from the tangle of sheets and limbs in which he had been wrapped, he finally managed to turn his head, and, so, to have the obvious confirmation of his suspicions: Jack was lying at his side, his legs crossed, his back arched in a cat-like pose and his neck stretched and bent, and he had caught the man's arm against his chest, hugging him with such passion to nibble it.
Finally understanding the strange and conflicting sensations he had had during the nightmare, the Boogeyman let out a sigh, happy to still enjoy the presence of his lover and his tender demonstrations of affection, and, just for fun, he began tickling his stomach with his fingertips; feeling him digging his teeth into his flesh, he grunted, a little piqued by the rude gesture and almost tempted to retaliate with a pinch; at last, however, he spotted the silver decoration which adorned his belly, and, mindful of the excruciating pain he had suffered and the fatigue he had had to endure, he stopped and started to cuddle him, using all the sweetness he had to assure him a peaceful sleep. It took almost a minute to him to break free, moving an inch at a time and contorting himself until his ligaments creaked just not to bump him, but the beatific smile the boy cast him as he huddled against the pillow was a reward more than enough for the complex feat of acrobatics performed, and the man couldn't help but smiling back as he retrieved a new blanket and draped it on his chest: the happiness he felt in having him at his side, again serene and healthy, was too intense to be hold back.
Bending over him, Pitch began to fondle him, rubbing the tip of his nose on his spine and redrawing it vertebra by vertebra from the shoulder blades to the nape, but just when he was about to climb down his neck to take refuge under his ear and inhale the fresh scent of fresh-driven snow, there so intense to stun, he noticed a particular out of place, and he froze: less than five feet far from the bed, just in front of him, stood out the cradle.
On closer inspection, actually, the detail itself was not so shocking, simple piece of furniture placed on the background and even pleasing to the eye, but what it contained was far too much, and, indeed, the Boogeyman felt upset to the core: the presence of that child never wanted was definitely cumbersome, rude meddling in an otherwise perfect scene and unnecessary burden in a life already full of duties, and tolerating them was far from being simple.
Slowly crawling, the man stepped back, climbing down the mattress and hastily evoking the robe with slits to cover himself, and, yielding partly to curiosity, partly habit, he got ready to tiptoe to check the infant.
The first thing which impressed him, of course, was the bed in which they had been placed: carved directly into a single log of fir soaked in red dye, it developed just like a tree, the legs shaped to form winding roots, the support column carved to reproduce the bumps and the recess of a young trunk and the structure of the nest adorned with dozens of branches, thicker at the base, thinner on the cover, each carrying tiny flowers and leaves harbingers of a spring still far. From the top of the visor, natural as the gushing bloom of a newborn stem, branched out a sinuous frond, twisting on itself before boldly lunging into the void, and on it was hanged a small carousel, made of slender reeds and small eggs painted in pastel colours and childish decorations; inside, however, the wood was completely covered with a silky and almost impalpable lining, golden here, orange there, so thin to look woven of real rays captured at sunrise and sunset, and so cheerful in its discreet splendour to seem almost alive.
Immediately recognizing the hand of three of the Big Four, Pitch wasn't surprised by the gifts they had made, but, rather, astonished not to see anything by Toothiana, always the most expansive lover of children of all ages and greater supporter of the unexpected pregnancy; dumbfounded, he wondered if he had missed it and he began to look for it, making his eyes wander around the room, kneeling under the crib to check its bottom and even crawling around it, but he spotted nothing, and, at that point, he was forced to examine the last corner left, which he would have willingly spared to himself: the recess of the cradle.
A strange scent of jasmine was coming from it, similar to the one which had characterized Jack during his pregnancy, but more honeyed, lighter and, at the same time, more intense, as if it were deep, but didn't want to impose itself, and the Boogeyman dived in it hesitantly, almost frightened by the strange novelty; bending down, he began to examine the tangle of blankets, slowly advancing with his head under the visor and making sure not to breathe in order not to be discovered, and eventually he came across a gap between the covers which he had noticed from the beginning, but which, until that moment, he had preferred to ignore.
It was easy for him, since immemorial times accustomed to the darkness, glimpsing the little face which was hidden in it, still a little flushed, but decidedly less inflamed than a few hours before, its small and flattened nose, its soft cheeks, its closed eyes and its forehead frowned in a concentrated expression, and even easier asking himself: why? Why was that child there? Why not on the Moon, where they had been explicitly desired, or in any other part of the Earth? Why did he, who hated infants, had to bear one, moreover descendant of the enemy? No, no, it was pointless, the baby themselves had no fault, but not even the right to subvert his life with their presence, and he had not the slightest intention of letting them to: he would have allowed Frost to take care of them and, if necessary, he would have also helped him, but keeping his distance, and he would have never let himself go into pathetic displays of an affection he didn't feel. Come on, he, the King of Nightmares himself, busy making faces and speak in a falsetto voice to please a horrific creature caught by colics? Was this really what others, whoever they were, expected from him? It was nothing short of unacceptable! Baby food and baths were tolerable, as long as the boy had asked him, but hugs and kisses were not. After all, the new Guardian's growing phase would have not lasted long, right? The pregnancy had finished weeks early, the duties which they would have had to fulfil seemed to grow more and more urgent, there was no time to waste in twee games and, no doubt, no time would have been wasted: within a few months, maximum a year, the Spirit would have started working flat-out, becoming completely autonomous and allowing him and Jack to return to live, alone and in peace, their ordinary routine. Yes, yes, this was definitely what would have happened, he only had to bite the bullet for a while, to delegate as much as possible and, in case, help quickly and efficiently, and everything would have turned out fine, that disturbing parenthesis in their lives would have been closed and everything would have finally come back to normal, as it should be and should have always been, he just had to hold on, and, who knows, maybe luck would have even touched him, and the boy would have felt uncomfortable enough to step aside.
While he indulged in these chaotic reflections, where rejection and availability alternated almost at alarming speed, the child stirred in her sleep, crumpling the covers and letting out a faint wailing, and Pitch, who, foolishly, had not expected them to take the initiative, jumped back, startled, stumbling on a stool and falling head over heels on the armchair; coughing and snorting, he stood up, his head raised to avoid the flames of the roaring fire he had nearly missed, but his tail between his legs for the gaffe, and, after making sure he hadn't been seen by anyone, he decided that getting away and diverting himself for a few minutes was the best choice to recover from the encounter.
A stealthy step at a time, he exited the room, leaving the door open behind himself to make the air circulate and let the corridor cooler one change the inner one, now musty, and he walked towards the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of tea; combing his ruffled hair, he went down the hall, carelessly moving his eyes from a Christmas decoration to another as he reflected about what mixture of herbs infuse, then he reached the Globe Hall, but he almost didn't have time to enter it that a deep and cheerful voice boomed: «Oh, Pitch, you're already here! So, what do you think about the ba...».
«The bastions, he wanted to ask you what do you think about the bastions, have you noticed he changed the decorations?» intervened a female warble.
Stunned by that unexpected and quite noisy welcome, the Boogeyman turned, surprising the Big Four camped on the floor on some piles of jute bags, and he instinctively asked: «What the hell are you doing here? Couldn't have you laid on the couches, at least?».
«Oh, well, you see» began Toothiana, ruffling her feathers; «On the sleigh had remained the gift bags and we thought it was better putting them back, but in the end we were too tired, so we decided to take a break. They are comfortable, you know? Would you like to sit with us?».
«No, thanks, I have better things to do» sharply answered the man.
«What? Can I give you a hand? I've collected a lot of useful things tonight, if you need something, just ask!» volunteered North, flashing a dazzling smile.
Annoyed by their intrusiveness and cordiality, which were even more maddening than usual, given the discomfort he already felt, Pitch countered: «Cutting the broth¹, and no, I don't need your help, nor all the amazing, useful things you retrieved to do it! May I know why you have to be always so intrusive? Mind your own business, and go to rest somewhere else!».
Haughtily giving his back to the importunate company, he headed away, but the master of the house commented: «Seems that someone here woke up in a bad mood, huh? Did you sleep bad? Maybe the ba...».
«The bastions!» overcame him the fairy; «The bastions disturbed you, he wanted to say this. You know, they're quite ornate, and you usually don't like Christmas decorations, so, who knows, maybe at night you thought about them and slept bad».
The Boogeyman didn't need to turn and see the woman collapsed on Santa Claus to realize that something was not right in that conversation, nor to think long to understand what topic the latter had tried to introduce twice, however, determined to not face it, he decided to play along and replicate: «Bastions, decorations, stairs and any corner or occupant of this Palace disturb me greatly and continuously, so yes, it's quite likely that my bad mood is due to everything. Are you going to pour salt into the wound by prolonging this pointless and annoying conversation, or will you do me the grace to keep quiet and give a break to my poor ears? I didn't leave my room to indulge in idle talk, I went out to get some fresh air and a tea, and I want to return as soon as possible to... Jack, what the hell are you doing here!?».
Visibly trembling, Jack emerged from the shadows of the hallway, his trousers unbuttoned, his black blouse now saggy and, in his hands, the staff for long forgotten, and he stammered: «Hi everyone!».
«"Hi"?» snapped the man, striding towards him; «Is it really the best thing you manage to say? Don't you expect to move with your enthusiasm, you're going back to bed, and you're doing it immediately»
Hiding behind the stick and putting his foot down, the boy protested: «No, I won't go back to bed! Why should I do that?».
«You perfectly know the reason! Human women rest for days after a caesarean section and take more than a month to recover, then you'll do me the pleasure to sit still at least a week, since you've even dead and revived in the meantime!» scolded him Pitch, effortlessly picking him up in his arms.
«A week!?» exclaimed Frost, clinging to the jamb to avoid being taken away; «But it's too much, I'll die of boredom! I can't do it, and then, don't you see how strong I already am? I managed to get dressed and come here all by myself!».
«You should have never had» sharply retorted the Boogeyman.
At that criticism, the boy clouded over, slackening off and relaxing his muscles, and, casting the other a repentant look, he murmured: «I'm sorry. I know I should rest, I feel it, and I promise I'll do it as long as necessary, but when I woke up I didn't manage to stay calm and still: I was there all alone, in that room where I've been locked up for weeks, even just thinking about it made me anxious, and then, well, I wanted... I wanted to see the baby».
Slightly surprised by his lover's sudden docility, the man stopped, leaving him time and room to explain himself, and when the boy finished he commented: «Should I believe the first part of the story, or better if I consider it an excuse, as the second? I take seriously your anxieties, but you know you only needed to raise your head to see the child, so I don't understand why you tried to move me to pity with this topic».
He regretted almost immediately the coldness he had used, feeling foolish and cruel for having vented his anxieties and frustrations on the partner guiltless and still recovering, and he mentally prepared himself to his offended outburst, but, unlike he expected, the other didn't take up the challenge and simply replied: «But the baby was not in the cradle».
Dumbfounded, Pitch chuckled and countered: «Don't be silly, I checked three minutes ago, and they were there. Maybe you didn't spot them among the blankets».
«And I checked just a minute ago, and she wasn't there» repeated the boy; «And it's not possible I didn't spot her, since in the cradle there were no blankets left. Where is she? Where have you brought her?».
The unexpected news shocked not little the Boogeyman, who found himself motionless, his eyes widened and his mouth half open, staring at the other, unable to believe his words and, at the same time, to call him a liar; Jack, for his part, didn't react differently, returning his gaze first with a puzzled look, then an alarmed one, and starting to fidget more and more, but when he was about to talk the man anticipated him, saying: «Stay here with the other Guardians and lie down, Jack, I'll go to check».
Without waiting for an answer, he bent over and left him on the ground, taking care to place him close to the jamb so that he could use it as a support, then he entrusted him to the Guardians, whom he didn't bother himself to turn to, and walked toward his room; fast as a lightning, he darted inside, kicking away the stool blocking his way and throwing himself on the cradle, but, as the partner had told him, he found it completely empty.
Too proud to give up, he began to rummage everywhere, on the armchair, in the closet, above and under the bed in which, up to a few minutes before, he had slept, even among the stacked logs next the fireplace, but, as he should have expected, he found nothing, and at that point he had to admit the obvious: the infant was gone. That awareness, oddly, didn't give him relief, but rather a sense of ineptitude quite embarrassing and frustrating, which the joy for the premature removal of the source of his problems couldn't drive away in the least, and, now, for the second time in that night, he wondered: why? Why, without the slightest warning, had the child been taken away? And why after he had studied them and before Frost woke up? No striking events had occurred in those minutes, he was sure, and not even during the long sleep they had both allowed themselves, so why had the kidnapper waited so long after the birth before acting, and moved in such a risky moment? But, above all, who were they? There were a thousand possible answers to this question, but the first which sprang to his mind, permeating it with hate in its purest form, was just one: the Guardians. Oh, sure, they had all been very sweet and tender during pregnancy, always ready to assist, always available to help and encourage him, but how sincere had been the smiles they had cast him? How much could he, the King of Nightmares, trust his enemies, and how much did his enemies trust him? A year of coaxing couldn't erase centuries of battles, nor resolve the difference of opinions and objectives which had always divided them, therefore it was not unlikely they had decided to stab him in the back: they could have had thousand reasons. Revenge, spite, narrowness of mind, willingness to educate from the beginning the young colleague to the task which they were intended to, desire to make them grow in a healthy and positive environment, fear that the Boogeyman could have a bad influence on them, or that he couldn't be able to take care of them properly, and it was exactly the latter suspicion which made him see red: those pathetic, little spirits should not dare to take decisions in his place, standing between him and his problems, he was the only and unique master of his own life, he had the right to lay claim to a property or refuse his own, and he had every intention of exercising it.
Frothing at the mouth, he headed back and ran out of the room, then, after bursting the Globe Hall, he boomed: «Who did it!?».
Bunnymund, who, in the meantime, had stood up and moved away in order not to be crushed by his impetus, snapped: «Don't tell me you're really insinuating that...».
«I insinuate whatever I want when the baby is involved!» shouted Pitch, now beside himself; «It's Jack's daughter whom you're talking about, not a pathetic creature whatsoever! Who of you took her? Was it you? Tell me where you brought her!».
Soaring, Toothiana stepped between the two disputants and declared: «No, Pitch, it wasn't Bunnymund who took her away».
Growling, the Boogeyman grabbed her by the arm and drew her closer to himself, then he hissed: «But look at whom we have here, the meddler fairy, always ready to cast a smile as she sticks her nose where she shouldn't! You've drawn your conclusions in these three months of pregnancy, didn't you? You've decided I was too many in the perfect scene you had built, huh? Huh!?».
Unperturbed, the fairy broke free and rebuked him: «I fully understand your anger, Pitch, and I encourage you to vent it, even on me, but you must not let it cloud your judgement: it's not time to get lost in absurd quarrels. The scene you're talking about was built by all of us and has always been far from being perfect, if I had really wanted to exclude you from it I would have certainly not bothered myself to bring you back in it when you run away and then helped you reintegrate, and then, damn, Pitch, there are so many reasons for which I had no interest to kidnap her that I don't even know where to begin to list them! I am a bit nosy, I admit it, but I would never dare to take decisions in your place, nor to take the baby away from you and Jack, because, remember this, as you lost her, he lost her, too, and he's suffering for this».
Taken aback, the man was forced to admit the obvious, well aware that, even if the woman had really wanted to hurt him, she would have never exploited a way which made Jack suffer, too, so he demanded: «And what about the others? I might trust you, but not them».
«But listen to him!» intervened the Pooka; «After everything we did for you, is this how you repay us? If we had wanted to stab you in the back, you would have felt the blade sinking in your flesh months and months ago!».
«Bunnymund!» rebuked him Toothiana, pressing a hand on his shoulder; «Ignore him. He offended me with his insinuations, too, but he's shocked, and we must understand and pander to him. I stand for the others, Pitch. We stayed together all the time, sit here talking, and no one has ever walked away».
«And before you ask» added North; «None of our helpers could have kidnapped her. They're all exhausted from Christmas, they haven't left the dormitories yet, and, even if they did, they could have never get to your room without passing here, because this morning I personally locked up all the doors of the hallway».
«A Yeti or an elf is easy to see, but an Easter Egg can safely go unnoticed» pointed out the man, casting a glance to the Easter Bunny.
«Oh, sure, obviously, especially when it's carrying a child on its top, right?» commented the latter.
«Maybe you simply made one of your practical tunnel available» accusingly insinuated Pitch.
«Or maybe you're just an idiot, since my tunnel cannot be opened remotely, and since I'm the one who suggested to camp here to be at your disposal!» retorted Bunnymund, threateningly pricking up his ears.
«Stop, stop it!» silenced them the fairy, separating them by force; «Pitch, it wasn't any of us, accept it and look beyond! Arguing is pointless, we must stick together and focus to find a solution, and we have to hurry! If you have any idea tell me, in the meantime, I...».
«Pitch!» called a choked voice.
Recognizing the partner, the Boogeyman turned, and as soon as he met his eyes he had a dizziness: the fear which permeated them was so intense and deep to be palpable, and it had struck him more violently than a hammer. Unable to do otherwise, the man sank into that sea of terror, in that endless ocean of thousand shades of blue and panic, disgusted by his own nature, which forced him to take advantage of the pain of his one, true love, but at the same time grateful for the generous gift which gave him new strength; after a few seconds, making a considerable effort, he shook himself, managing to focus not only the sapphire irises in their entirety, but also Jack himself, lying on the jute bags and supported by Sandman, and to hear him murmuring: «Pitch, Where is she? Where is my baby? She's always been safe inside me, it's not possible something happened to her, she's my baby, I want her back, I've barely seen her, I have to stay with her for a longest time, she can't be already gone, she's so small, she needs us...».
Not surprised at all by that burst of motherhood, Pitch displayed the most reassuring smile he managed to put together, then, after kneeling and stroking his partner's head, he whispered: «Don't worry, Jack: I'll manage to retrieve the child and bring her back to you, and I promise you I will not fail. Make sure to rest as you wait for me. I'll see you soon».
Without further delay, he dissolved into a solid stream of magic sand, rather inconsistent, actually, since the magic of Christmas still interfered with his powers, but shattered enough to allow him to move easily, and, after placing a fleeting kiss on Frost's trembling lips, he lunged forward; panting and stumbling, he jumped from one beam to another, higher and higher, running away from the excited voices which pursued him and which were getting closer, and eventually he managed to escape through the circular opening in the roof.
The effort of the last leap, unfortunately, worn him to the point he re-materialized aloft and crashed with his shoulder against the watchtower, but neither the disorientation, nor the pain, were enough to stop him, because the anger which spurred him was more than sufficient to support him; growling, the Boogeyman stood up and ran to the cave system above the Palace, climbing like a fury along the side of the mountain and then descending in the first crack he came across, and, after a minute of research, he found what he was looking for.
Awakening from a long sleep, the first Pureblood of the new era revealed himself to his eyes, his orbits lit by a blue fire, his left side covered with frost, the right one embedded in the wall of ice, and, snorting, he began to fidget: shuddering and whinnying, he broke free from his prison, his breath condensing in dense clouds of steam, shards of ice and darkness falling from his body and pulverizing under his mighty hooves, and when nothing forced him any more, he advanced.
Inhaling deeply to follow his chills, the man watched the stallion striding majestically, making his way in the midst of his young mates and crushing the weakest ones to absorb their powers, and when the horse reached him, he whispered: «Take me to the moon».
He didn't need to add anything, because the Nightmare, though asleep, had always been vigilant, and knew what had happened, and because the desire for revenge was, anyway, understood and supported by him, therefore Pitch didn't have the slightest difficulty to stop him and mount him, but when he was about to spur him, Toothiana appeared at the mouth of the cave, and cried: «Pitch! Oh, you're here! That's Jack's Nightmare, isn't he? You had a great idea taking him: he could come in handy. Now, you should come with me, we must meet to discuss and conceive a plan».
«I already have a plan» countered the Boogeyman; «And it doesn't include any unnecessary discussion».
Without bothering himself to provide more comprehensive explanations, or to close the conversation in a more polite way, he dug his heels into his mount, setting him off at a gallop and sweeping away the poor fairy; once outside, spotted in advance Bunnymund and Sandman, he led the beast between them, so as to cause them to collide and overcome them; finally, after making sure that neither North, nor Jack, were lurking, he pulled the stallion's mane with all his strength and diverted him toward the sky.
He rode fast, in his eyes the image of the brilliant satellite he was about to attack, in his heart the blind hatred for its occupant who had dared too many times, and who now had dared too much, piqued by his intrusiveness, by the liberties he had took and by the cruelty he had had no hesitation to use; he rode tirelessly, heedless of the cold wind which scourged his back and of the Pureblood's sharp tips which sank in his thighs, and he didn't listen to the calls which followed him, begging him to stop and turn back; he rode for long, and, in the end, he heard a hollow sound, and felt the Nightmare slow down.
Extremely annoyed by that initiative, the man straightened up and got ready to hit his disobedient servant, but as soon as he raised his head he found himself facing an unexpected scene: Sandman and Toothiana, the only two Guardians who had managed to chase him, were stuck behind an invisible barrier, which glowed in a milky light when it was touched, and which seemed to stretch for miles in every direction.
Slamming her fists against the magic wall, the fairy shouted: «Pitch, come back! It's a trap!».
But Pitch was too determined to carry out his mission to be frightened by the trap, and, ignoring both the common sense and the repeated warnings, he gave his back to the two Spirits and run away.
Keeping his mind well clear to avoid the risk of taking false steps, he reined in a little his horse, flying over the lunar surface in search of a good access point to the underground, and, discarding a priori the comfortable stairs which were probably the main access, he opted for a narrow crack in the soil. After leaving his beast hidden behind a large boulder, he began to climb down the slit, puffing and groaning as he twisted to slid his long limbs through the tortuous fissure, and when he finally managed to extricate himself and land, more or less softly, against a slope, something came to his rescue: a sweet and intense scent of jasmine.
Although taken by anger and the heat of the moment, the Boogeyman had been subconsciously aware since the beginning he had thrown himself into a reckless adventure, leaving alone and exhausted toward a land he had never explored and against an enemy he didn't know how to defeat, however, the only detail which had worried him was the fact he couldn't discover in advance the location of the infant, and when the solution was handed to him on a silver plate, he didn't waste time to take advantage of it, and got pleased for the luck he had had, following without further ado the trail of perfume and preferring not to suspect that, behind it, there could be hiding an evil hand.
After chasing the honeyed scent beyond the ledge, over a suspension bridge and down a steep staircase, the man slipped through an ajar door and entered into a singular stone room, very bright, despite the apparent absence of windows, and filled almost to the ceiling with strange machinery; frowning, he decided to move along the wall, creeping in the shadows of those quiet metal boxes and bypassing with difficulty bundles of disturbing pipes, and when he reached the other side of the chamber he stopped, astonished.
In front of him, lying on a large bed, laid the little girl, naked, alone, so small in comparison to the impressive equipment which surrounded her, so sad in the midst of those gloomy objects which literally stank of death, and for a moment Pitch seriously feared he had arrived late and found in his hands, for the second time in less than a day, a cold and lifeless corpse; a few seconds later, however, the newborn moved, beginning to frantically shake her limbs and head, and, reassured, he breathed a sigh of relief and get ready to save her.
Finally made wary by the excessive ease with which he had reached her, he began to look around, checking for the presence of traps or tricks, and soon he realized that the bed had been enclosed by a cage of moonbeams, so thin to be almost invisible, but no doubt sufficiently intense to hurt him; scratching his chin, Pitch began to study the mesh, searching a device to disable it or a weak point to attack, and in the end, noticing a missing bar, he dematerialized and lunged through the leak.
Suddenly, a second row of spars appeared in front of him, hovering less than a yard above the bed and preventing him to rise to his feet, and, regretting not having reflected more, nor observed longer, he was forced to divert and fell heavily on the mattress, his legs drawn up, his back bent in a painful position and his face completely sunk in the sheets.
Growling and snorting, he raised himself on his elbows, cursing his haste, the endless obstacles he always came across in his life, the situation in detail and in general, and the one who had caused it, but soon he had something else to think about: two big, widened irises were staring at him, and, if the multiple speckling of aquamarine and turquoise were no doubt attributable to Jack, the dozens of dark tentacles which were floundering among them were equally unmistakable.
¹ "Cutting the broth" is an Italian common saying, typical of the northern regions. When you say "I'll cut the broth" you mean you're willing to do even something pointless and endless, rather than what the interlocutor proposed you. It's not gross, but it's quite rude
Here you can find another beautiful fanart made by Fridarush:
post/117030796347/cianethedevil-so-in-the-end-i-did-it-i-hope-you
Next chapter will be published on Friday 15th of May. Remember I'm quite busy in this period, so I might publish the next two chapters late, as this time. The fact I have little free time a day doesn't mean I wouldn't be glad to receive a comment, on the contrary, it would make me happy and let me understand if I'm translating properly and if you're enjoying the story, so feel free to contact me