It was the first peaceful morning in a long time. They slept in, warm and comfortable and sleeping off their exhaustion.
Everything was soft and quiet. For a moment, before he opened his eyes, Hiccup felt just like he used to on Saturday mornings when he got to sleep in, before he finally got up and raced downstairs to eat his special sugary weekend cereal and watch cartoons with his mom. But that had been another lifetime. That had been a different Hiccup.
This Hiccup's eyes fluttered open to soft light and a faery asleep next to him.
Jack was still half asleep with the hoodie pulled up over his nose where he'd snuggled into it. His eyes were half-open and bleary. When he saw Hiccup was awake, a slow, shy smile spread over his face—so unlike his usual mischievous grin, Hiccup couldn't help his own answering smile.
"Hi," he said.
"Hey," Jack answered. His voice was croaky with sleep.
Hiccup propped himself up, and Jack squawked as the covers slipped off, which Hiccup ignored. At some point, Toothless must have found them, because he lay curled up between the lump of their legs under the blankets, snoozing peacefully. "Hey buddy," said Hiccup groggily. Toothless let out a tiny purr of greeting and rolled his head against Hiccup's leg, his tail twitching happily.
The late morning light filtering inside was pale and diffused. They had left the window open the night before; a faint breeze puffed in, setting the window blind cords swaying back and forth.
"Oh." Hiccup blinked as a few flakes of snow drifted in and settled on his desk. He wasn't cold; on the contrary, he felt warm, the way he was supposed to feel in bed in the mornings. And that alone was weird, but when he glanced down at Jack, he could see the faint frost patterns that followed Jack everywhere encrusting the sheets. "Do you feel warm?"
"Uh… Not too much? I guess?" Jack gave him a confused look.
"But you don't feel cold?"
"No? Should I?"
"No, but you're a frost sprite."
"So?" Jack yawned, his nose crinkling up, and turned his face into the pillow.
"So, I don't feel cold. I feel warm. And it snowed, and the window has been open all night and you've gotten frost on the bed."
Jack's eyes slid toward the frost he'd left on the sheets. His expression grew more somber; when he turned his glittering blue eyes onto Hiccup, there was something sad, and a little lost, hidden in them. "Yeah," he said. "Weird things happen when you eat the food of the fair folk."
Toothless chirped agreement.
"…right," said Hiccup weakly. He fell back on the bed and curled up again with his forehead pressed against Jack's chest. Jack draped a lazy arm over him. "Will I ever feel normal again?"
"I don't know," said Jack. He pulled the blankets back over their heads and closed his eyes again.
After a long moment, Hiccup mumbled, "Astrid's probably going crazy…well, crazier…wondering where I am. We should head back."
Jack groaned. "…fine."
Before they left, Hiccup took the opportunity to go through his own stuff. He got dressed like a normal human again, with boots for the snow and his favorite jacket layered over another old comfy hoodie. He packed some extra clothing to keep at Astrid's house for a while, and he looked around his room one more time. When he would be able to come home to it again?
They snuck back out the window and walked to Astrid's.
The driveway at Astrid's only held Astrid's car; her parents' were gone. They were able to walk in the front door. Hiccup pulled his sleeve over his hand to grasp the metal doorknob.
"I kinda thought she'd be waiting for us," said Jack, as the door clicked shut behind them. "Like she'd have her face pressed to the windows looking for something. Is that weird?"
"Yeah…" said Hiccup slowly. "I mean, no. That sounds like Astrid." He glanced around. If she'd gone out to look for him, surely she would have taken her car? And surely his own house would have been one of the first places she'd look? Unless she was at the library or the school…but the car…
Toothless ran off. His paws made little pad-pad-pad sounds on the floors as he raced through the rooms looking for Astrid, and then trotted back to Hiccup, mewing distress.
They went upstairs. Her room was empty. Hiccup dumped his bag in her closet and looked around. The bed was unmade, but it was cold. There was a used coffee mug Hiccup recognized from two days ago sitting on the bedside table with half-dried dregs in the bottom of it. The window was cracked open, and snowflakes had built up into a drift on the sill overnight and part of it was melting down the wall.
"She has the eye serum with her," Hiccup noted. He'd left it sitting on the desk by the coffee, but it was gone now.
"She's… not here?" Jack stared around in confusion. He toed at the snow-puddles and turned them into ice patches on the hardwood.
Hiccup went to the window, opened it all the way, and leaned out. From here he could see the garage, and specifically, the window to the room above it, where's Astrid's 'secret' workshop was; that window was dark and still. She wasn't in the workshop either.
"Is she at the school place?"
"It's… just school." Hiccup shook his head and shut the window. "And her car's still here. Unless she took the bus for some reason…"
"Why would she take the bus?"
Hiccup bit his lip, trying to squash the uneasy feeling that was rising in his chest. "Maybe… she left it for me? In case I came back and needed to use it for some reason?"
"Would she do that?"
Hiccup had never driven Astrid's car and he didn't even have a permit. He shook his head. "No, she wouldn't." With a sigh, he sunk down on her mattress. He sat on something hard; when he fished around in the blankets, his hand found something smooth and cool. It was Astrid's phone. He pushed the power button, but it was dead.
Astrid hadn't been home.
"She hasn't been here," he said, his voice too quiet, too level. Suddenly, the stillness of the house felt awful. Oppressive and damning. "Where would she go?"
Jack curled his hands into his hoodie pocket. "You would know better than I would."
"What do you think happened to her?" Hiccup tried to keep his voice from shaking.
"What do you mean?"
"Like… do you think one of the fair folk did something to her?"
Jack's mouth thinned into an anxious line. "Not while she was here. Not if I know anything about Astrid. You think she'd just let that happen?"
"No. She doesn't 'just let' anything happen," said Hiccup with a reluctant smile.
"Exactly."
Astrid's phone was heavy in Hiccup's palm, cold with disuse. He kept wiping his own fingerprints off the screen. He should have come back here yesterday, should have come back and waited for her to come home from school. Where could she possibly be? She never would have been a part of this whole mess if it weren't for him. She would have been living a nice normal human life—the kind of life Hiccup had to admit had never been a possibility for him—but instead she'd stuck with him through weirdness and insanity and magic, and now she was… missing.
"Jack," said Hiccup in a low voice, "would Pitch take Astrid? Would he have any reason to?"
Jack stood in the middle of the room, fiddling with the aglets on his hoodie drawstring. "I… Yes. I think he might."
"But… Why?" Bubbling with frustration, Hiccup stood and pace around the room, pressing his hands against the wide of his head. "Why her? What did she ever do to him?"
"It's getting close to Samhain; he…" Jack licked his lips, thinking. A faraway look crept into his eyes. "He'd be getting desperate. There's not much time left; the sacrifice must take place tomorrow night. Technically, he could take any human from Berk—the victim need only be a creature of free will. But he wants you now that he knows about you and your sight. But if he can't get to you, someone close to you or I would be a bonus to him, a small way to get back at us for all the inconvenience we're causing him."
"Inconvenience?" Hiccup snorted. "Is that what he thinks of us?"
"Yep."
"Ugh." Hiccup made a noise of disgust and curled his lip. "How does Pitch get away with taking so many people from Berk?"
"He himself doesn't take all who go missing." Jack shrugged when Hiccup cast him an unamused look. "He only requires a victim every seven years."
Seven years?
Hiccup went very still; his mouth dried up. "…Jack?" he rasped. "What did you just say? How long ago was the last sacrifice?"
Jack blinked at Hiccup, confused by his reaction. "Seven years ago. Why?"
Oh god. It had been under his nose the entire time, but he hadn't… he'd never even… He fourced out the word: "My mother disappeared seven years ago. On halloween."
Hiccup could see the moment Jack realized what was happening, what had happened. The blood drained from Jack's face. He didn't say anything. He shrunk away from Hiccup, shame creeping into his eyes.
Hiccup knew it wasn't Jack's fault. He knew there was no point in asking or accusing or even talking about it right now, but he couldn't stop himself. It tumbled out of him. "Jack," he said again, his voice low and dangerous. "Did you bring my mother to Pitch to be sacrificed?"
"I…" Jack's voice trailed away. He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry. I don't know. I can't remember."
"Jack."
"It would make sense," Jack said in a rush. "The timing is right. And if she had the Sight, as you do, she'd be a powerful victim for the teind."
"Why is that so important?!" Hiccup deflated, shoulders slumping as he ran a hand over his face. Maybe everything that had happened to him had been unavoidable. Maybe his path and Jack's path had been intertwined for far longer than he'd thought—maybe they'd crossed seven years ago and been on the same trajectory ever since.
"The Sight?" Jack made a noise that was half groan, half thoughtful hum. "I don't understand how the old magic works—I don't think anyone really does. It defies explanation. But I know a sighted victim makes Pitch more powerful. Like it's an extra layer of magic he absorbs or something."
"So she really has been dead for the last seven years." Hiccup stared out the window, where he could just make out the tops of some evergreens brushing the brumous sky. A pit opened up in his stomach, hollow and dark. It was hard to admit, but there had always been a small part of him that hoped she was still alive somewhere—whether under the hill in the folk realm or in another town somewhere that she'd run away to—and that he'd be able to see her again. Maybe even bring her back home and make his dad happy again. He felt stupid now, but more than that, he felt wounded.
"I'm sorry." Jack's face crumpled.
"We don't have to go through this again."
"I…" Jack sputtered and fell silent.
"I'll get your memories back." Hiccup's voice hardened. "I promised. And I'll find out what happened to her, one way or another. And I know none of this was your fault, okay? You don't have to apologize every time somethings new comes up that you don't remember."
One corner of Jack's mouth twisted into a sad smile. "Yeah, I might never stop if I did." He let out a harsh laugh, scraping his hands through his hair as a crazy look came into his eyes. "Gods, I should never had talked to you in that library."
Startled, Hiccup went to Jack and pulled Jack's hands away from his face. "Whoa, stop. If you hadn't, I never would have met you. Besides, it's too late now to change it. Let's just focus on fixing what went wrong, okay?"
Jack stared down at the floor as he chewed his lip and didn't meet Hiccup's eyes. His body was a stiff line of tension; he was wound tight, feet rooted to the floor. Hiccup pulled on his hands and he stiffened at first, but after a moment, he breathed in, nodded once, and relaxed. "Okay. Okay. You're right. How are we going to find Astrid?"
Hiccup let him go, and as he did so, he caught sight of something glittering on the bedside table.
It was a dagger. As soon as he picked it up he knew she'd made it for him; it fit his hands perfectly, the weight of it comforting and solid. He could feel the metal through the sheath, and it made his skin prickle and his nerves sing like pins and needles. She had used cold iron.
It was beautiful. The blade honed to shining perfection, the handle made of heavy ebony and carved with Celtic knots that continued partway down the blade itself, where Astrid had inlaid it with gold leaf. Even the sheath was beautiful, a deep red leather with a matching Celtic knot design on the sides. How much time had Astrid spent on this? When had she had the time? A knot formed in his throat thinking about how much she must have pushed herself to get it done.
"I wonder when she left this…" he murmured.
"Hiccup." Jack's voice, heavy with fear, pulled Hiccup away from admiring Astrid's handiwork. He sheathed the blade and tucked it into his waistband. Jack stood at the window, staring out at the drive. When Hiccup joined him, he saw the problem.
Among the ever-present loitering fey on the other side of the gate stood several tall dark figures. It took Hiccup a moment to recognize the menacing, sinuous forms; but when one shifted and he caught the glimmer of its golden glowing eyes in hollow sockets, he remembered with a shiver: he'd seen them on the night Jack had swept him off his roof and carried him into town because it started pouring and they'd taken shelter in McDonalds.
Fearlings.
But that night, the Fearlings had come for him en masse, and they'd been formless in their ranks, like a tidal wave of darkness the swept over everything. These few stragglers alone looked different: skeletal and haunted and inhumanly tall.
"What are they doing?" Hiccup whispered.
"I don't know," Jack whispered back. "I'd heard that Pitch lost control of them, and they'd begun acting independently. I don't understand."
"You think they're here… independently?" Goosebumps had risen on Hiccup's arms while he was standing there under the watchful gaze of the Fearlings. They didn't approach; they studied the house silently. All the other fey left a wide space around them. "Do you think they'll go away? I don't want to go out there with them watching."
"I can't blame you," said Jack heavily. "Let's wait a minute and see what they do."
Hiccup put his hands on the window and slid it shut, one slow inch at a time, trying not to make any loud noises that would attract the attention of the Fearlings. He and Jack stood and watched them, close enough to the glass pane that Hiccup's breath fogged the glass. Jack edged back, pulling on Hiccup's sleeve, but Hiccup was unable to tear himself away from the window.
One of the Fearlings moved its head, its body still but curling like a column of smoke, and Hiccup caught again the shine of its eyes as it looked up at him. "They're curious," he said suddenly. He didn't know how he knew they were curious, but he could feel it, a whisper in the back of his mind. What are you?
"What?"
"They're looking for me," Hiccup continued. "They want to know about me. That's why they're checking out the house. They…know I come here a lot."
Jack stared at him in silence. When Hiccup turned to look at him, Jack's gaze was alarmed and confused. "How do you know that?"
Hiccup shrugged helplessly. "I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe I'm wrong. It's just a…weird feeling that I have."
"I don't like it," said Jack at once. "I don't really understand what's happening to you, but this is not normal.
"None of this is normal. What are we going to do about it?"
He turned back to the window and locked eyes with the Fearling who was staring at him. After a moment, it nodded once, then turned, shifted into smoke, and vanished on the breeze.
Jack, at Hiccup's shoulder, let out a breath and tugged on the back of Hiccup's jacket. "Let's leave before more come."
Hiccup retrieved the spare key to Astrid's car from its secret spot in her bookshelf. They rushed downstairs and peered out the front door to make sure the Fearlings weren't moving in before they went outside. They both burned their hands opening the car doors.
"Where are we going?" asked Jack. He still looked like a scared rabbit, his eyes wild, his shoulders hunched.
Hiccup turned the key in the ignition. Astrid's music blared to life, rattling the car with the sound of Young Heretics, and Hiccup jammed the off button. He put her car into reverse a bit nervously; he technically knew how to drive, but he didn't exactly have a lot of experience with it. "We'll start at the school," he decided. "I'm…pretty sure it's a weekday. If she's not there, I'll find a way to talk to her friends. Maybe someone has seen her." An undercurrent of panic still hung around in his ribcage, but he pushed it down and focused on a plan of action.
"Sure," said Jack. He was holding onto his seat tight enough to whiten his knuckles. He looked like he wasn't even hearing what Hiccup was saying. "Gods, I hate cars."
"I'll roll the windows down."
They sped into town and headed to the high school with Jack holding his head halfway out the window. Hiccup parked on the side of the street where there was room, and they got out. Jack took deep breaths of the outside air. There were dark circles under his eyes.
"I'm okay," he said weakly.
Hiccup knew how he felt. He was a little nauseous too; the air in the car smelled like metal and chemicals, and it sickened him. Toothless didn't seem to mind it; Hiccup held the door open and waited for him to jump out, but Toothless stuck one paw in the snow and immediately retreated back into Astrid's car.
"Alright, guard the car then," said Hiccup, shaking his head at Toothless. Toothless just twitched his tail and curled up on the seat.
It was snowing again, giant fluffy flakes that piled up on the ground fast. The one inch of snow they'd gotten overnight had already turned into several more inches. Hiccup was glad that he'd thought to grab his boots that morning.
"Come on," he said to Jack. He zipped his jacket up and took Jack's hand, lacing their fingers together. As they began to trek across the parking lot, a blanketing fog rolled in, tendrils of mist curling through the cars and lamp posts. It muffled all noise until Hiccups boots crunching the snow down seemed loud.
"Does it seem quiet to you?" said Jack, his voice hushed.
Hiccup cast a glance over his shoulder. He was feeling it too; the unnatural silence that sent a shiver down his spine. Something was off. It took him a minute to figure it out, but when he did, it raised hairs on the back of his neck. "It's empty," he said. A sluggish breeze dragged across the lot, pushing the snowflakes around. Eddies and currents of snow flowed over the asphalt. The fog was getting thick. "There's not a single other faery in sight." Folk had been in the background of every moment for his entire life in Berk. Now, there wasn't a single one, and the empty space they left behind was ominous and haunting. "Where are they?"
Jack's grip on Hiccup's hand tightened. "I don't know, but I don't like–fuck!"
It happened so fast. One moment they were walking hand in hand toward the buildings; the next moment, dark figures on black horses surround them on all sides and hemmed them in. These weren't Fearlings. They were knights, tall aós sídhe in sleek black armor, carrying spears and swords. The knights lowered their weapons at Jack and Hiccup in complete silence, and they stopped in their tracks.
A lump formed in Hiccup's throat and he swallowed against it uselessly. "Oh."
Jack's face went blank. "Pitch," he said hollowly. He turned to Hiccup, squeezing his hand one more time. "Hiccup, listen. Whatever happens next… I'm sorry."
Jack still couldn't disobey a direct order from his master.
Hiccup nodded, trying to keep the fear he felt from showing on his face. "I know." He squeezed Jack's hand back. "It's okay, Jack. I know."
The knights parted. An enormous black horse, more shadow than flesh, approached. It was darkness made corporeal, void wrapped over bones and sinew, and the ether of it evaporated into the winter wind like black smoke, churning and trailing away. Pitch sat atop its back. He was wearing a wide, cold smile.
Hiccup had only seen the Shadow King once from a distance. Up close, he was horrifying, his skin a sickly mottled grey, his eyes a dull yellow. With him, he brought the smell of death and rot that even the wind couldn't carry away.
"Well, Jack." Pitch looked down at them, his eyes glittering with frozen rage. "Your little game of hide and seek is over. You've had your fun. You know, I had quite a time hunting you down."
Jack bared his teeth in a grimace. "Happy to entertain. How did you find us?"
With the stamping of hooves, the knights shuffled, revealing another faery who was cringing behind Pitch. He was prodded forward with a spear in the back. "Get off me!" he snarled. He came forward. It was sharp-teeth, the same faery that Hiccup and Astrid had encountered in front of the library. Not the one who had baited Astrid so effectively; the one blue all over.
"What are you doing here?!" Hiccup snapped. "I thought you weren't part of the court!"
Sharp-teeth leered at them. "I'm not, but after this I will be. As for how we found you… well, your little girl friend has been spending some time among the fair folk. She was quite the center of a glorious party last night. What do you think of that?"
Furious, Jack leapt at him in a flash of blue and white anger. Before anyone could do anything, his fist had connected with sharp-teeth's jaw with a dull thud, and sharp-teeth was sprawled out on the ground, Jack on top of him, raining down blows. The knights looked on with expressions of distaste.
"Be still," ordered Pitch, and Jack froze in place. Unable to move, he trembled, and his eyes flashed their contained rage. Sharp-teeth spat blue-grey blood into the snow and shoved Jack off of him. Pitch looked down his nose at them both. "So inelegant," he sniffed coolly. "You've spent too much time with humans. It's clear how much you've spoilt. Now. Stand up and stay still."
Jack rose stiffly and stood at attention, his hands trembling and restrained at his sides. "Where's Astrid?!" he spat at sharp-teeth. "What did you do with her, you miserable groveling little—?!"
"And stop talking," said Pitch, cutting Jack off. Jack's words were swallowed up mid-sentence, and he stood with his mouth opening and closing like a fish, fuming silently.
"She's busy elsewhere," snarled sharp-teeth. There was blood trickling down his face; he wiped it away with the back of his hand, glaring up at Jack sulkily. "She should be the least of your worries right now."
Jack's eyes were full of murder.
Pitch gave his knights a nod, and the two at the forefront dismounted and seized Hiccup before Hiccup could gather his wits together. They twisted his arms behind his back and held him tight. He couldn't move without hurting himself. Something sharp—a knife or spear point—pressed against his ribcage painfully. He sucked in a breath.
"No!" Jack cried. He was shaking in place. "Let him go!"
"I thought I told you to be quiet," said Pitch.
"You said to stop talking," said Jack, "and I did. And now I'm starting again! Let Hiccup go!"
Pitch rolled his eyes at Jack as he dismounted his horse. "This has gone on long enough, I think," he said. "It was amusing at first, but I am through indulging you."
"I'll come back," said Jack desperately. "I'll be obedient. Whatever you want. Let me make you a deal."
Pitch laughed at that. "A deal? From you? I already own you. There's nothing you have that you can offer me."
Jack tried once more, speaking through gritted teeth. He was rigid with frustration, seething with it. "There must be something I can—"
"No." Pitch cut him off. He bent over Jack, cupping his face with one hand. Jack flinched. "You don't seem to understand, Jack. I am past the point of toying with you. You've been a nuisance long enough."
Pitch, Hiccup realized, didn't intend for Jack to live past his disobedience.
The knowledge of it settled into Hiccup's stomach, a deep penetrating cold that weighed him down. He saw the moment Jack understood, too: the hope went out of his eyes. He flicked his gaze to Hiccup and then away, back to Pitch. He licked his lips. "Fine," he said slowly. "Kill me. Torture me. Do whatever you want. Just let Hiccup go, please."
"No!" Hiccup struggled against his captors but pain shot up his arms.
"I don't have to listen to this," said Pitch to Jack, completely ignoring Hiccup. "Be silent and stay silent this time." Jack went quiet. Pitch straightened up, towering over Jack, and held his hand out. "Take it," he demanded. Hiccup twisted to see what Pitch held and caught the dull shine of cold metal: an iron blade, not beautiful like Astrid's gift, but twisted and cruel.
Jack took it. His face had become a blank mask. He remained impassive as the metal burned his hand with a soft hiss. The sound was swallowed up by the wind.
"Jackson Overland Frosti," Pitch began. He was smiling, an eerie uncomfortable smile that looked wrong on his pointed face. "I sentence you to death. With this blade, I command you to take your own life within the next sixty seconds."
Still blank, still emotionless, Jack turned the blade on himself. He shut his eyes softly and laid it against his own throat, his flesh hissing and spitting, turning red under the metal. His lips moved silently. A prayer? A plea? No one could hear.
Hiccup let out a scream and fought to get to Jack, but it was useless. One of the knights struck him on the back of his knees and he collapsed, his kneecaps sinking through the snow and hitting the asphalt hard enough to bruise.
The point of the knife, dull as it looked, was still sharp enough to draw blood as Jack pressed it harder into his throat.
"Wait!" Hiccup choked out. "What about me? I'll make you a deal!"
"Stop." Pitch raised a hand and Jack stopped. Blood welled out around the blade and trickled down his neck. Pitch turned toward Hiccup as everyone stared; behind Pitch, Jack shook his head and mouthed words at Hiccup. No. Stop. Please don't do this. "What kind of deal?" Pitch asked slowly. There was a cunning gleam in his eyes.
Hiccup licked his lips. What could he possibly have to offer the faery king of the shadow court that he couldn't take by force? He had to try something. "Free Jack. And free Astrid. Take me instead." At least then Jack and Astrid would be safe.
Pitch chuckled. "Trade this stubborn traitor and the other human plaything for you? And what will you offer me to make that tempting?"
"I…" Hiccup racked his brain. What did faeries value? Their currency was all riddles and promises, free will and servitude. "I'll come with you willingly."
"Hardly enough to tempt me."
"What do you want, then?"
Pitch fell silent. He came closer and loomed over Hiccup, menacing and thoughtful, and took Hiccup's chin between his fingers to study his face. "Why do you do this?" he asked at last. "Has my little pet put you under his spell?"
"Does it matter why?" Hiccup met Pitch's gaze and refused to look away.
"Hmmm. I see you've eaten our fruit." Hiccup's heart rained nervous beats, but Pitch said nothing else about the fey changes in Hiccup. He withdrew and ran a hand over his chin thoughtfully. "I'll take your deal," he announced. "And I'll even do you one better. I want you to give up your true Sight to me."
"My sight?" Hiccup couldn't stop the note of shock that crept into his voice. "Why?"
"Does is matter why?" Pitch echoed Hiccup's words mockingly. His eyes, thin yellow slits, cast him a scornful glance. "A willful sacrifice is always more powerful than an unwillful one. Here is the deal I offer you: you give up your sight, and I will release Jack from his oath to the court and leave you here unharmed. You can go back to your mortal life, normal and un-sighted."
Pitch didn't know about the serum. Good; Astrid had somehow managed to keep that secret. It was better than Hiccup had hoped; it gave him a chance to find Astrid and the serum and come after Jack. If he was careful they would all still come out of this.
Hiccup swallowed and tried to will himself calm. This was his one chance to fix everything, maybe even get his life back. He couldn't let anything slip by. "And what about Astrid?"
Pitch's gaze slid sideways toward sharp-teeth, who was still lurking behind him looking pissed-off. There was a question in that look. Sharp-teeth squirmed and gave Pitch a small nod. "She is free to go back to her own life," said Pitch.
"And my father?" asked Hiccup. "What about him? Will you take the infection out of him?"
"Your father?" Pitch frowned. "Ah yes. I take it that is the man under my shadows." He heaved a bored sigh. "I will withdraw all my shadows from Berk, including those that have infected anyone there. Your father will be left alone. Will that satisfy you?" Pitch smiled politely at him, and Hiccup stared.
There must be something he was missing, some catch he couldn't think of. Everything he wanted was within reach–Astrid, his father, Jack's freedom–but it was too easy. When he looked at Jack, Jack was standing behind Pitch and shaking his head furiously, mouthing warnings at Hiccup. Don't do it.
What was he missing?
"Do we have a deal?"
Hiccup's eyes flicked between Pitch and Jack, his heart thundering in his throat. Jack was still shaking his head; furious tears streaked his face, and his eyes were pleading with Hiccup. Please please please please please… his lips moved. Hiccup shut his eyes and steeled himself. It was worth it if it would save Jack.
"My offer will not last long," Pitch pressed him.
"I…"
"You have three seconds." Pitch held up three fingers. "One…" He put a finger down. "Two..."
"Deal!" Hiccup set his jaw and looked up at Pitch. "It's a deal."
A wicked grin split Pitch's face. "Done," he agreed. He held out a long bony hand, and Hiccup shook it, his own hand dwarfed in Pitch's clammy grasp. A wave of electricity—that raw, static feeling Hiccup had woken up with—pulsed through the air. Hiccup felt it in his chest, and it stole his breath away.
He tried to pull back, but Pitch didn't let go of his hand. His grip tightened until Hiccup's knuckles felt like they were grinding together.
He yanked Hiccup forward, hard, and Hiccup fell to his knees again with a sharp cry. Pitch's thumb pressed into his forehead between his eyes, and it hurt, it was burning him and stabbing. Pain swelled in his head. It felt like his brain was bloating. Blackness burst across his vision. Hiccup squeezed his eyes shut and ground his teeth together, willing himself not to scream, not to whimper, not to make a sound. Not where Pitch and Jack could hear him.
"Wonderful." Pitch's voice was gravel in Hiccup's ear, speaking low so that only Hiccup heard him over the roaring in his head. "You have so much power in you. You've held up your end of the bargain, so your father will be freed from the shadows and Jack is no longer bound to his oath. As you wished."
Through the waves of pain and rushing darkness, relief flooded Hiccup. He'd done it. He'd fixed everything.
But Pitch wasn't done. "You'll have your father and your friend… whatever state they're in. We'll see what I do with Jack, but he won't see Berk again. It's too bad you didn't say what condition you wanted them in when they were freed. Human error, I suppose."
"No!" Hiccup's eyes flew open, but it was already too late.
The pressure, the pain, and the blackness lifted from him, puffed out of existence like a candle extinguished. He was alone in the snowy high school parking lot, breathing fast. He scrambled to his feet, looking wildly around, swinging his arms to feel for anyone unseen, but it was useless. All that was left were the cars, the snow drifts, the silence. Not another voice to be heard. Not another living being to be seen. Complete peace for the first time in his life, and he hated it with every piece of his soul.
"Jack!" he called. There was no response. Even the wind had quieted. "Jaaaaaaaack!"
Snowflakes fell silent all around him, cold and uncaring. Flake upon flake, they blanketed cars, piled against curbs, and erased all footsteps, until it was an untouched world. Until it was like no one had ever been there.
