Chapter 36: Hodgepodge Soup

Holly shut her bedroom door behind her and sagged against it, sighing. Why had it suddenly become so difficult to speak to two of her best friends in the world?

"Rough day, huh?"

Holly yelped and her feet slid from underneath her. She landed on her butt and glared at Rudyard Teer, who was sitting on her armchair with his feet on her coffee table, reading one of her books that had been a birthday present for her. Holly was livid.

"Rudy!" She hissed, standing up and fumbling with the lock on her door. "What the cherry tomatoes are you doing in my room? Get back in the lamp right now before somebody sees you!"

"Nah," Rudyard shrugged, and turned a page unconcernedly.

"I'm sorry, Holly," Casca piped up miserably from the other armchair, sitting ramrod straight with his hands folded on his knees. "But he was very insistent. He even said 'please.' Twice."

Holly shot her angelic friend a somewhat disparaging look. "Cas, didn't you hear what Iblis said? He expects me to keep Rudy out of trouble, and it's a lot easier to do that when he's in the lamp and not gallivanting around Nimrod's house like he owns the place!"

Rudyard looked up with some interest. "Oh, so this is Nimrod's place, then? Great, I owe that big-nosed loser a spell in a coffin-"

"You'll do no such thing!" Holly told the Ifrit sharply. "And might I remind you, Sarah's right downstairs and I can get her if need be to reel your terrible behaviour in."

"This is the thanks I get for asking after you," Rudyard grumbled, returning to the book and opening it wider. Holly grimaced as she heard the spine of the book snap in two.

"That was a birthday present!" She protested irritably, snatching the book from his hands and gently stroking the broken spine.

"Hey, I was reading that!" Rudyard snapped back, making a grab for the book. "It was just getting good! Theodosia and her little brother were figuring out what was cursing their dad's museum!"*

"Hey, shut up, no spoilers! Why are you out here, anyway?" Holly asked, evading Rudyard's reach and resting the book on top of her bookshelf as she hurried to tidy up the rest of her room.

Rudyard sat back down in the armchair, his expression suddenly serious. "Angel boy here told me that Jirjis took over the Ifrit after dad and I went bust. Is that true?"

"How should I know what goes on in your tribe? I've been kind of busy trying to deal with Azzy and his demons since I got my powers."

"I told you, it's true." Casca told Rudyard earnestly. "Azazel told me himself a few days after we met last June. He was really cheesed off about it."

"So he really hasn't done anything yet?"

"Azazel is a very distracting person." Holly said sternly, shoving a pile of clothing into a dresser drawer.

"So he hasn't like... killed anyone yet?" Rudyard asked apprehensively.

"Not as far as we know," Holly said briskly. "Get back in the lamp already. What does Jirjis look like, anyway?"

"Well he's quite lanky, with dark hair-" Casca began.

"And a dumb-looking Snidely Whiplash moustache," Rudyard interrupted.

"His skin's about as swarthy as either of ours," Casca continued, indicating himself and Rudyard.

"And he talks with this real slow draaawl, y'all," Rudyard mimicked a Southern accent perfectly, and immediately grimaced.

"Last I knew, he was attempting to look for Beelzebub's prison under the plenum dune," Casca offered helpfully.

Holly frowned. Something about that description seemed strangely familiar. "He doesn't have a ghost girlfriend or something, does he?"

"He murdered his mundane wife in the seventies." Rudyard piped up.

Casca frowned. "What was her name?"

"Kate, I think. Nobody really talks about it much, and Dad's still sore about it. It landed him in a lot of trouble back then with that old hag Ayesha. You know, the Blue Djinn."

Casca's frown deepened. "I don't recall sending anyone by that name back to Purgatory in February."

Rudyard snorted. "A person like Kate Ibn Rajmus? From the stuff I heard about her, she probably went straight to Hell."

"What's up, Hol?" Casca asked, still a bit perturbed by his discovery.

"I feel like... maybe I had a vi-"

Holly was interrupted by the rattle of her doorknob followed by a sharp but polite rap at her door. "Holly? Can I come in?" Philippa's voice asked from the other side of the door.

Holly's eyes grew wide and her gaze blank. She looked from Casca, to Rudyard, and then jerked her head pointedly at the silver lamp resting on her bedside table.

"Of course, Phil, just give me a sec so I can clean up a bit." She said with forced lightheartedness as she glared daggers at Rudyard, who was purposefully ignoring her and had put his feet back on the coffee table. Holly looked over at Casca in silent appeal, and he let out a breathy sigh and stood.

He clapped his hands together once, a single, sharp note that lingered in the air, like the black smoke that he'd transformed Rudyard into before it, and the small white light that was Casca, swirled into the silver lamp gracefully.

Once the last wisp of Rudyard's smoke had vanished, Holly let out another breath and hurried to open the door for her cousin.

"Hi," She said, stepping to one side so that Philippa could come in, "What's up?"

Philippa sighed listlessly and plunked herself down on the armchair that Rudyard Teer had been occupying. "Nimrod just told us that we'll be staying here for awhile, on account of the whole Iblis thing."

"Oh," Holly said cautiously, unsure of how to react- this was all her fault, after all.

"It'll be just like old times," Philippa smiled, though her smile held no mirth. "Going on mad adventures everywhere, riding whirlwinds and flying carpets..." She curled her hands around her elbows and hunched forwards in her seat. "I thought I could just leave it all behind me, like mother did, but no one told me that it would be so... cold." Philippa stared longingly at the hearth, the dying flames reflected in her glasses.

Gingerly, Holly sank into the other armchair, feeling the void of their experiences stretch between herself and her cousin. Holly kept forgetting she even had djinn power, but Philippa was unable to stop remembering her lost powers. "Is that why you have all those burns on your arms?" Holly asked before she could stop herself. She immediately winced. "Sorry, it's okay if you don't want to talk about it, I just..." Just what? Holly wondered. "You're my friend, and you can talk to me." She finished lamely.

Philippa was quiet for a moment that seemed like an eternity, staring at the fire. At long last, however, she straightened up and rolled up the sleeves of her shirt with slightly trembling fingers.

Her forearms were lined with dark burns and blistering skin that, despite their ugliness and scabs, curled elegantly in a surprisingly intricate design almost reminiscent of Alexandra's henna tattoos.

"I..." she finally spoke, though her voice caught in her throat, shaking with fear and shame. She coughed, and then sniffed loudly, trying to get herself to stop shaking, to stop the tears that had begun flowing involuntarily from her green-grey eyes. "I used the tip of a fire poker." She mumbled. "I didn't..." She began hiccoughing, and tugged her glasses off to wipe away the tears. "I never used to get burns like-hic- this, you know. I think it's-hic- basically impossible for a-hic- djinn to be burned by regular fi-hic-re."

"You what?!" Cried a voice from the silver lamp before Holly had a chance to reply. Philippa froze with shock, while Holly felt a vein begin to twitch irritably in her forehead even as black smoke began to swirl, once again, out of the lamp. Once he re-formed into his darkly freckled self, he pointed an accusatory finger at Philippa. "You can't have gone cold!" He shouted, seething. "What's the point of revenge against a cold djinn?"

"Rudy I already told you and your dad that no one's exacting revenge against my family, especially not when I already have my own reasons to seek revenge on the both of you." Holly snapped irritably.

Philippa stood on shaking legs and looked from Holly, to Rudyard, and back to Holly. "Holly, that's Rudyard Teer. Why is Rudyard Teer here?" She asked incredulously.

"How else was I supposed to make sure Iblis behaved himself?" Holly asked her cousin with a shrug. "Rudy's collateral. Annoying collateral who doesn't seem to understand the concept of stay in the lamp, but collateral anyways."

"Well you don't have a lid on it," Philippa said weakly, sitting back down in the armchair and shaking her head. "But why ever did you bring him here?"

"So I could keep an eye on him." Holly replied, glaring daggers at Rudyard. "Go back in the lamp, Rudy."

"This ruins everything!" Rudyard lamented, ignoring Holly and running a hand through his still slightly damp red hair. "Don't tell me that your dumb brother went cold, too!"

Philippa looked down at her wrists. "Actually..."

"Rudy Teer get back in that lamp right now or so help me I might even say a swear!" Holly seethed, and, standing and seizing the Ifrit by his ear, she marched Rudyard over to her bedside table where the lamp rested. "You want Nimrod to find you? Huh? How about the Blue Djinn, Faustina? I hear she isn't too fond of you Teers thanks to what your dad did. And since you were directly involved with the harebrained scheme that made her little brother go AWOL, I'd bet she isn't too fond of you, either. Or maybe I should just run downstairs and tell Sarah you're misbehaving-"

"All right, all right!" Rudyard snapped irritably, swatting Holly's hand away from his ear. "I'll stay in the lamp already, Jesus." He paused a moment before transubstantiating to glare venomously at Philippa. "This isn't over, carrot-top."

"It's a lot less effective throwing those kinds of insults around when you yourself also have red hair," Philippa pointed out logically, watching with faint shock as Rudyard transformed back into black smoke with a huff and vanished into the lamp.

Holly grimaced at the lamp and turned apologetically to Philippa as she began searching for something with which to plug the lamp up. She settled on folding up an elastic headband and stuffed it into the small hole where the wick should have been. "Sorry about that, Phil." Holly apologized as she sat back down in the armchair. "But could you keep that a secret? Iblis sort of issued me a death threat if Nimrod found out, and... well, I'm not supposed to have boys in my room at all, let alone stupid obnoxious Ifrit boys." These last words she addressed to the lamp itself, clearly a jibe at Rudyard.

"Amateur," He snorted, his voice muffled by the lamp and the headband plugging it up.

"Of course," Philippa nodded, trying to keep her voice from betraying how excited she felt. Danger? Death threats? Ifrit causing trouble again? This was familiar territory; she could help with this. It was an adventure in the making, she could feel it. "Though, it's a bit odd. He seems to be swearing a lot less than when I first met him."

A muffled protest came from inside the lamp, and Holly rapped on the side sternly, then smiled in a self-congratulatory manner. "He's under a binding. An angelic binding that makes him go against his nature and act like a decent human being."

Philippa smiled at the irony of this. "So what's your next move?" she asked eagerly, tugging her sleeves back down to cover her burns.

Holly shrugged. "I dunno. Wait for Iblis to get back here with doll-ified Azazel, I guess. Which could either be really easy or impossible, depending on whether or not..." Holly trailed off, shuddering at the memory of Azazel's eyes going black when he should have died. "Well, whether or not old Azzy's in a fighting kind of mood, I guess." She finished, more an afterthought than anything.

A branch, budding with fresh green leaves, made somehow greener in the rain, rapped loudly against the window by her side table. Holly frowned, sensing that something was odd about this, though not quite able to put her finger on why. Sticking her pipe between her teeth for moral support, Holly headed cautiously over to the window and peered out into the driving rain and seeing nothing unusual, frowned.

"What is it?" Philippa asked, observing Holly's actions from the comfort of her armchair.

Holly shook her head. "Nothing. I just got this weird feeling all of a sudden. Like I was being watched or something."

"Mark, sit down already. I'm making you some soup and that's final." Sarah chided her 23 year old stepson sensibly.

"So are you going to tell me why you disappeared or not?" Mark asked her, grunting softly as he sat at the kitchen table. He still felt all stiff from the plane.

Sarah, who was already looking through Nimrod's refrigerator for ingredients, paused. "It's... a bit difficult to explain, but I'll try." She fell silent for a moment, gathering various vegetables into the crook of her arm pensively, trying to gather her thoughts. "My primary purpose in serving the role of your and Holly's stepmother was to protect Holly. To watch over the Prophet of this age before she was ready for her powers. I was there on orders." She shut the refrigerator and laid her armful of vegetables down on the counter.

Mark frowned, watching as Sarah took a stockpot from the cupboard and took it to the sink to fill with water. "So it was all a lie?" He asked.

Sarah bowed her head over the stockpot. "No," She admitted quietly. "I never planned on being your stepmother, Mark. I was going to be your neighbour but then... Then I met your father."

Despite his misgivings, Mark smiled. "Yeah, when you dragged me home after busting that party. Dad didn't stop talking about you for weeks. I think Holly and I nicknamed you 'That redhead cop lady.' It was pretty painful to listen to."

Sarah smiled forlornly as she hauled the sloshing stockpot onto the stove and switched it on. "Really? I left that much of an impression on him?" She searched through her pockets and pulled out a familiar smooth river stone.

"Are you making hodgepodge soup?" Mark asked excitedly, recognizing the stone.

Sarah's smile grew warmer. "Of course. You're ill, aren't you? Now, where do you keep the potatoes?"

"I'll peel them, I can do that much." Mark insisted, and opened a cupboard beneath one of the counters and dragged out a burlap sack of potatoes, which he proceeded to drag towards the sink. "But go on with your story."

Sarah turned the gas on to the stove and turned back to the vegetables she'd gathered. "Well, at any rate, I met your father and everything changed, and I like to believe that you and Holly were the better for it."

"Yeah, okay, so that's why you were around in the first place, I get it. But if you were supposed to protect Holly then why'd you let us believe you'd been killed?" Mark asked, tugging his pocket knife from his jeans pocket and deftly peeling the potatoes.

"I was told that I was no longer needed." Sarah explained softly, pulling the large vegetable knife from the knife block and starting to dice the vegetables. "My superiors called me away in the middle of the inferno, or else..." She chopped an onion in half and a tear dripped down her cheek. "By the time I was able to return, the house was gone."

"Can't you angels use time travel or something? Doesn't time work differently for you guys, though?" Mark frowned. "Can't you resurrect people?"

"Only in special cases." Sarah said, her shoulders drooping. "I asked for permission to resurrect your father and Bob, but... I was denied."

"Oh," was all Mark could say, his hands pausing in their task despite himself.

"Yes," Sarah nodded. "And I was ordered to stay in Heaven for the time being, as my work was no longer necessary."

"So the body of yours that they found?" Mark asked, trying desperately to keep his composure.

"A false visage, nothing more. Something to help me disguise myself."

"Did dad know?"

"Did he know what I am? Yes. I told him before we were married. It was only fair."

"And he didn't think you were a nutcase. Huh." Mark turned his attention back to the potatoes briefly before another thought struck him. "Wait, if you're an angel, then what about Uncle Bob? Wasn't he your brother?"

"Robert Maidan was a good man as well," Sarah explained regretfully. "And he did not deserve to die either, but we bore no relation to each other: he was merely a man, like your father and you. A spiritual brother, if you will."

"Maidan..." Mark muttered. "Where have I heard that name before?"

Sarah shrugged, and wiped her teary eyes with the back of her wrist.

"So you're telling me that angels have a zillion restrictions on them even if they're trying to do the right thing?" Mark asked, setting another peeled potato on Sarah's cutting board.

Sarah sighed. "Well, yes. But I was also under careful observation, you know. Because I had fallen in love with your father. Angels aren't supposed to do that. Fall in love, I mean."

Mark looked away, suddenly feeling awkward, thinking of his own romantic track record. "Well you can't help it, can you? It's not like you can choose who you fall in love with." His face darkened. "Or out of love with."

Sarah tipped the diced vegetables into the soup stock in a swift, practised movement. "I know," she sighed. "Where are your spices?"

"Here, just one second," Mark hurried to the spice rack resting on the opposite counter, secretly glad that the awkward atmosphere had dissipated. He wasn't sure he was ready to talk about it yet, anyway.

The kitchen door swung open and John wheeled his way cautiously in, awkward because of his one useable arm. "I know I just ate like, twelve minutes ago, but something smells really good."

Sarah beamed. "Why, thank you, John. It's my special hodgepodge soup."

Author's Notes: Okay, so like I said last week, this chapter will probably be the last one for awhile because my life is going to get really hectic in September, plus I'm just about on the verge of running out of complete chapters anyway so I need to write more in addition. As for the asterisk above, the plot point that Rudyard describes is from a book I'm very fond of, "Theodosia and the Serpents of Chaos" by R.L. LaFevers It has lots of that ancient Egyptian occult stuff I like so much and miss from "The Akhenaten Adventure" but is also set in like the 1890's in London which is a setting I really like, (and bonus is the creepy museum full of curses), and it's the first story in a series that I think has yet to be completed. I highly recommend it if you can find a copy.

Anyway... See you in a month

~Lucinda