Chapter 34
Felix watched Dean walk up the stairs with a great deal of interest. Dean's singing was an unexpected bonus. He had in the past enjoyed the company of troubadours and musicians, but it had been some years since his last singer. Each new lover reminded him of things he'd forgotten, just as each brought with him a slice of his own time, keeping Felix in the here and now. Quite a number of his former colleagues had foolishly fallen out of tune with the times, and it had often proven fatal.
Dean opened the door to his apartment, stepped inside and closed it behind him. Once the latch clicked shut, the spell on the walls became complete again and blocked Felix's view. He grimaced and looked up from his bowl, his focus broadening to include the whole of his workroom. One day soon, no one would shut him away from that enchanting young man, but he could be patient.
He arose and turned around. The spell summoning spirits had not yet matured, as evidenced by the green vapor still clouding the glass the spirits would appear in. He found Morgan staring at the glass in curiosity and felt a brief flash of irritation, both that he had been sufficiently focused as to not notice the other man's entry into the room, and that Morgan had come into his workroom at all.
"What do you want?" he asked, his voice acid.
Morgan jumped and turned around, but he did not seem as cowed as he should have been by Felix's tone. "I have to be gone most of tomorrow," he said. "I thought I had better find out if there was anything you needed before I hit the sack, since I'll likely be gone when you haul yourself out of bed tomorrow."
Felix's brow knit. "You seem to have a great many outside obligations of late. What is the issue?"
Morgan shrugged. "You said you didn't want to hear about my problems, so –"
"When they affect your ability to serve me, I do," Felix replied.
"Look, Leo," Morgan said irritably. "I don't 'serve' you, we have a partnership. And if –"
Felix had grown weary of Morgan's posturing and apparent belief that they were somehow equal. He raised a hand, summoning power to throw Morgan against the wall. The paintings that hung on that wall shook with the impact, and then Morgan slid down to the floor. Felix strode over and seized his servant by the neck, lifting him and holding him against the wall. Morgan struggled angrily, but Felix tapped him on the forehead. Morgan went still, whimpering slightly. It had been a while since Felix had elected to punish his servant, and clearly that had been a mistake.
"You serve me for as long as I choose to have you serve me," Felix said icily. "Now, what is this matter that you must deal with?" He tapped Morgan on the forehead again, releasing his vocal cords.
"I have to go to court," Morgan said, his voice shaking slightly. "You recall that I was arrested some days back?"
"Yes," Felix snapped. "I told you to deal with the problem and make sure it didn't affect me in any way."
"I'm doing that," Morgan replied, some of his rebellion showing in his eyes. Felix tightened his grip slightly, and Morgan's eyes widened. "I'll take care of it," he said.
"Remember, Morgan. You made certain promises when you came to me. There are consequences if those promises aren't kept. Now, deal with your problem as swiftly as you may. Is there a chance that you'll be incarcerated?"
"No," Morgan said.
"Are you lying to me?" Felix asked.
"It's not likely," Morgan amended. "But I will do my best to avoid it."
Felix nodded once, sharply, and released his servant. "Go, get to bed." He glanced over at the spirit glass and saw that the vapor had dissipated. "And go silently," he added.
He sensed simmering anger from Morgan, but so long as the man didn't express it, he would tolerate it. For now.
He crossed the boundaries of the spell with care and stood before the mirror, speaking the words that should call the first of the spirits to him.
Into the glass they came, two little girls, one with long blond ringlets, one with long straight hair of darker hue. This seemed an unusual beginning. This spell didn't generally call multiple spirits, but these two seemed almost to be a unit. As if he couldn't have gotten one without the other. They held hands and gazed at him, mischief brimming in their eyes. Their garments were of a previous era, he couldn't be sure which.
He somehow hadn't expected children. "What do you know of Dean Winchester?" he asked. The girls looked at each other, then shook their heads. "Speak."
"We don't know any Dean," said the blond child scornfully. Her eyes narrowed. "Do you want to play?" she asked.
"Maggie!" the other girl hissed. "You know we're not supposed to talk to strangers."
"It's okay now, Rosie," Maggie said confidentially, turning to the younger child. "He can't do anything to us." She turned insolently back to him, her whole stance a challenge. "Do you want to play?" she asked again.
"Another time, perhaps," he said. Then he swept his finger along the base of the mirror to send them home and bring up the next spirit his summoning had caught. It was remarkably like changing pages on an iPod, and he shook his head in wonder. Those were such amazing devices, yet no magic involved at all.
He looked back at the mirror and saw a man in a tan uniform – some kind of law enforcement. If Felix had to guess, he'd say the man had drowned given the way water streamed off him in rivulets. His expression was hangdog, and he appeared to be wringing his hands. "What do you know of Dean Winchester?" Felix asked.
"Don't know that name," the man said. "There was a man named Dean, but that wasn't his last name."
"What do you know of him?"
"He's a liar and a no good drifter, but he saved the lives of my daughter and grandson."
Felix waited. "Is that all?" he asked after a moment.
"What do you expect? He wasn't in town more than a few days."
Felix huffed and sent him on. Very mouthy for a dead man. The next spirit stared at him blankly. He had dark hair and very pale skin, and a strangely hungry look to his eyes. "Who are you?" the spirit asked.
"What do you know of Dean Winchester?" Felix responded.
The spirit blinked, and then he smiled, and the expression was disturbing. "His blood tasted sweet, with just the right hint of salt," he said thoughtfully.
"His blood?" Felix repeated, appalled but curious.
The spirit nodded. "I'm glad I didn't eat him, though. His brother seemed very distressed by the notion."
"You're a cannibal?" Felix asked, eyes wide.
"I'm a rugaru, whatever that is," the spirit replied. "That's what they said, anyway." The spirit touched his own face. "I seem normal now. Where am I?"
"Dead," Felix said.
"Oh." He seemed oddly accepting, and Felix decided that he wouldn't get anything useful out of him and swept on.
A black man was next, and he seemed more alert than any but the blond child had been. He also seemed to see a great deal more of the room beyond the mirror than he should. Before Felix could even ask his question, the spirit spoke. "Witch!" he growled contemptuously, and that was when Felix saw that he wasn't precisely a man. There were far too many teeth in his mouth.
"I didn't know vampires could become spirits," he said.
"I didn't either," the man replied. "Life's just full of surprises." He glowered at Felix. "What do you want, witch?"
"What do you know of Dean Winchester?" Felix asked.
The man shrugged, his eyes narrow pits of hate. "That he's going to kill you sooner or later. My bet is on sooner." He tilted his head. "Has he still got little Sammy with him?"
"Little?" Felix repeated. This spirit was far too active, asking questions, identifying Felix, but the juxtaposition of the adjective little with Sam Winchester was too outrageous to let go by.
The spirit laughed dryly. "Then he's still there." He shook his head, and his thoughts were clearly elsewhere.
"Tell me what you know of Dean Winchester," Felix demanded.
"You should know better than to tangle with a hunter, witch. You can take one of us down, but we just keep coming."
"You're a vampire," Felix exclaimed, startled by the spirit's use of the word we in that context.
The spirit shook his head. "I'm a hunter." Felix raised his eyebrows at the contradiction and the spirit spread his hands with a shrug. "Shit happens." Figuring this, too, was a lost cause for information, Felix reached towards the mirror to send him on, but the hunter/vampire held up a hand, forestalling him. "Wait, has the Apocalypse started yet?"
Felix blinked at him. "Do you mean that literally?"
"Ain't nothing more literal than hellfire, man," the spirit said with a grin that showed off more teeth than anyone needed. "Has it started?"
Felix shrugged. This wasn't meant to be a question and answer session for the spirit. "I need to know details about Dean Winchester's life."
"I was always more interested in Sammy," the spirit replied. He shrugged. "You're not going to answer my question, are you?"
"You are here to answer, not to –" Before Felix could finish, the spirit murmured a Latin incantation to dispel. It had no power over the summoning as a whole, but the spirit vanished, leaving the mirror empty. Felix gaped for a moment, then swept his hand across the mirror again, and he found himself facing a vague-looking young man. Some form of drug, Felix would guess, perhaps it was how he had died. It mattered little. "What do you know of Dean Winchester?" he asked.
The spirit ran a hand through his dark, curly hair. "Dean rocks, man," he said. He looked around. "Dude, where am I?"
"What do you mean by saying that he rocks?"
"He's cool. He drives a bitchin' car, and he listens to awesome music, and –" He shrugged. "His brother's great, too. Do you know Sam?"
"I've seen him."
"He's psychic," the young man said. "But then, so am I."
"You're psychic?"
"Yeah, some demon messed with a whole bunch of us, but I think Sam's the only one who's not dead."
"What?" Felix stared at him.
"Hey, I'm Andy, by the way. What's your name?"
"Felix."
"Like The Odd Couple?"
"No, like the Cat," Felix replied
Andy blinked at him. "I don't get it."
"Dean gave me the name," Felix said, hoping it would increase the spirit's comfort with him.
"Cool."
"He's a cartoon."
"Dean's not a cartoon, guy. You're confused."
"No, the cat. Felix the Cat is a cartoon."
"Oh, that makes a lot more sense."
"Yes," Felix said. "All right, what do you know about Dean besides that he's cool?"
Andy tilted his head. "Tell me, why do you want to know?"
Felix had every intention of brushing the question off, but his mouth opened and words came pouring out. "I wish to enslave him as my lover and servant." He blinked.
"Euw," Andy said, an expression of distaste marring his young face. Then his eyes grew peculiarly intent. "Number one, stop trying to find stuff out about Dean." Felix stared at the young man, startled by his effrontery. "Number two, leave Dean alone. Actually just forget about Dean. Number three, send me back to wherever you got me from."
Felix leaned forward as if compelled and shut down the spell. He rose to his feet and went to bed.