Author's Note: This is a companion fic to my 'Phobia' series. It is
highly recommended you read the first two in the series. This story is set
between the second and the third.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
--------------------------------------
October, 31, 2005, 800 PM, 20 miles outside of London, England
"So, who are we supposed to be?" asked Asher Jacobs.
It was Halloween. A week before, Darcy Gallagher had phoned the bar to inform them that she and Mike were in London. "A good central location. Of course, my parents are simply furious I won't be marrying in the same ruined Irish castle they did, but they are coming at least. Oh, you must come, Asher. Richie too, of course. It will be Halloween night. Costumes required."
She and Richie had drove to London the night before. And having spent most of the day sightseeing, they had now returned to the hotel to dress for the party. Asher stood before the wall-length mirror nailed to the back of the bathroom door, frowning. She was not a costume she recognized. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, (making her conscious of just how long it had become since she had moved permanently to Paris), and she was dressed simply in her everyday clothes: blue jeans, one of Richie's button-down shirts -it was green-and a black corduroy vest. She had already laced her black on black saddle shoes, and pulled on her black sweater-coat, with her sword securely hidden.
"I look precisely like Asher Jacobs," she complained.
"No," argued Richie, coming to stand next to her. "You look like who you are supposed to be."
"Which is who?"
"Betty." He said the name like it should be the obvious answer, but he only received a blank look. "From the Archie comics. Please tell me you are familiar with the comicbooks."
"And, I suppose, you would be Archie?"
"Precisely," he exclaimed. "Of course, Archie's hair is more red than mine, practically orange, but I suppose mine will do."
"Archie wore a leather jacket?"
"Sometimes," he laughed. "Look, Asher, if you want to change costumes, we still have time. The party doesn't start until nine, and it is only," he paused to glance at his watch, "eight."
"No, no, this is fine. I just don't feel like I'm in costume. So, who are Betty and Archie anyway?"
"Friends. Betty's in love with him. Archie loves her too, but he also loves Veronica. She's a bit of a rich snob." Richie cocked his head in her direction, simultaneously straightening the baseball cap he wore. "Didn't you read comicbooks as a kid growing up?"
"Sure, I did. Just, I read the X-Men, Batman, Superman, Spiderman, the Incredible Hulk. I liked the whole superhero thing, I guess." Asher grinned suddenly. "You better not flirt with any Veronicas while at this party."
"Relax. Any girl I flirt with I'll make sure I introduce you to her first. Besides, Betty and Veronica really were the best of friends."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------
The party was to be held on the grounds of a small thatched cottage about twenty miles outside of London. Posted on the front door -painted a bright cherry red- was a sigh, which read: 'Party's around back -the management.' Crossing the grounds to the backyards, Darcy met them, wearing a wedding dress and vampire fangs. She carried her son in her hands, who too was dressed, in the same red and white striped pajamas Toby had worn in the Labyrinth.
"Asher! Richie! Oh, I'm so glad you could come. I know it was short notice." Warmly, she hugged her two friends. "Ummm, who are you supposed to be?"
"Archie, and Betty? From the comicbooks?" explained Richie.
"I'm drawing a blank. Must have been an American craze."
"Don't worry, Darce. I didn't know who they were either. Richie had to explain to me in the hotel room. Is this Colin?"
"Uh-huh. Isn't he adorable? He has Mike's eyes, but my hair. I'm kind of hoping he keeps it. I've always liked dark hair."
"Can I hold him?"
"Uh-huh. He's your godson."
"He's our what?" demanded Richie, pausing in his tickling of the tiny mortal, who rested contently in Asher's arms.
"Your godson. Oh, I mean there will be no official ceremony. Just a title. If anything should happen to Mike or me, we just want to know Colin will be well taken care of. Just between you and me," Darcy leaned closer to them, and Richie noted the slight red tinge to her lips and fangs, "you two are one of the few stable young couples we know."
"You have no idea," mumbled Richie.
"Oh! Yoo-hoo! Darcy, sweetie, your father needs to talk to you," called a woman in a thick Irish accent.
"My mother," she explained, taking Colin again. He sighed, turning slightly in his mother's arms. "Most likely, Da wants to perform the traditional Halloween dance with his first grandchild. And, they wonder why I moved to Paris," but Darcy laughed, and called over her shoulder, "I think Mike is in the house, should you want to say hello. Most everyone is here already, I think."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------------------
"Ah, Richie, you came. Drive in?"
"Last night. Barely any traffic. Need some help?"
Mike glanced around the tiny kitchen. Dressed in black slacks and cape, the only color he wore was the bright red (matching to the painted front door) of the silk shirt. He too wore fangs. The caterers had cancelled earlier that day (having been old childhood friends of Darcy), but had agreed to drop all the food off. "Bring those cold cuts out?" he asked.
"No problem. So, let me guess, Dracula?"
"Yep. What are you supposed to be?" asked Mike, stepping into the chaos of the backyard, lit with the leftover tiki lanterns he had found in the storage shed, and the citronella candles Darcy had bought in the closest town market.
"Archie. From the comic books."
Mike allowed himself a low chuckle. "How apropos. Suppose your Asher is Betty?"
"She is. Finally, someone understands who I refer to."
"Must have been an American craze."
"Funny. Darcy said the same thing." To which Mike shuddered, and ducked again through the door to retrieve the last of the food.
October, 31, 2005, 800 PM, 20 miles outside of London, England
"So, who are we supposed to be?" asked Asher Jacobs.
It was Halloween. A week before, Darcy Gallagher had phoned the bar to inform them that she and Mike were in London. "A good central location. Of course, my parents are simply furious I won't be marrying in the same ruined Irish castle they did, but they are coming at least. Oh, you must come, Asher. Richie too, of course. It will be Halloween night. Costumes required."
She and Richie had drove to London the night before. And having spent most of the day sightseeing, they had now returned to the hotel to dress for the party. Asher stood before the wall-length mirror nailed to the back of the bathroom door, frowning. She was not a costume she recognized. Her strawberry-blonde hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, (making her conscious of just how long it had become since she had moved permanently to Paris), and she was dressed simply in her everyday clothes: blue jeans, one of Richie's button-down shirts -it was green-and a black corduroy vest. She had already laced her black on black saddle shoes, and pulled on her black sweater-coat, with her sword securely hidden.
"I look precisely like Asher Jacobs," she complained.
"No," argued Richie, coming to stand next to her. "You look like who you are supposed to be."
"Which is who?"
"Betty." He said the name like it should be the obvious answer, but he only received a blank look. "From the Archie comics. Please tell me you are familiar with the comicbooks."
"And, I suppose, you would be Archie?"
"Precisely," he exclaimed. "Of course, Archie's hair is more red than mine, practically orange, but I suppose mine will do."
"Archie wore a leather jacket?"
"Sometimes," he laughed. "Look, Asher, if you want to change costumes, we still have time. The party doesn't start until nine, and it is only," he paused to glance at his watch, "eight."
"No, no, this is fine. I just don't feel like I'm in costume. So, who are Betty and Archie anyway?"
"Friends. Betty's in love with him. Archie loves her too, but he also loves Veronica. She's a bit of a rich snob." Richie cocked his head in her direction, simultaneously straightening the baseball cap he wore. "Didn't you read comicbooks as a kid growing up?"
"Sure, I did. Just, I read the X-Men, Batman, Superman, Spiderman, the Incredible Hulk. I liked the whole superhero thing, I guess." Asher grinned suddenly. "You better not flirt with any Veronicas while at this party."
"Relax. Any girl I flirt with I'll make sure I introduce you to her first. Besides, Betty and Veronica really were the best of friends."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------
The party was to be held on the grounds of a small thatched cottage about twenty miles outside of London. Posted on the front door -painted a bright cherry red- was a sigh, which read: 'Party's around back -the management.' Crossing the grounds to the backyards, Darcy met them, wearing a wedding dress and vampire fangs. She carried her son in her hands, who too was dressed, in the same red and white striped pajamas Toby had worn in the Labyrinth.
"Asher! Richie! Oh, I'm so glad you could come. I know it was short notice." Warmly, she hugged her two friends. "Ummm, who are you supposed to be?"
"Archie, and Betty? From the comicbooks?" explained Richie.
"I'm drawing a blank. Must have been an American craze."
"Don't worry, Darce. I didn't know who they were either. Richie had to explain to me in the hotel room. Is this Colin?"
"Uh-huh. Isn't he adorable? He has Mike's eyes, but my hair. I'm kind of hoping he keeps it. I've always liked dark hair."
"Can I hold him?"
"Uh-huh. He's your godson."
"He's our what?" demanded Richie, pausing in his tickling of the tiny mortal, who rested contently in Asher's arms.
"Your godson. Oh, I mean there will be no official ceremony. Just a title. If anything should happen to Mike or me, we just want to know Colin will be well taken care of. Just between you and me," Darcy leaned closer to them, and Richie noted the slight red tinge to her lips and fangs, "you two are one of the few stable young couples we know."
"You have no idea," mumbled Richie.
"Oh! Yoo-hoo! Darcy, sweetie, your father needs to talk to you," called a woman in a thick Irish accent.
"My mother," she explained, taking Colin again. He sighed, turning slightly in his mother's arms. "Most likely, Da wants to perform the traditional Halloween dance with his first grandchild. And, they wonder why I moved to Paris," but Darcy laughed, and called over her shoulder, "I think Mike is in the house, should you want to say hello. Most everyone is here already, I think."
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -----------------------------------------------------------------
"Ah, Richie, you came. Drive in?"
"Last night. Barely any traffic. Need some help?"
Mike glanced around the tiny kitchen. Dressed in black slacks and cape, the only color he wore was the bright red (matching to the painted front door) of the silk shirt. He too wore fangs. The caterers had cancelled earlier that day (having been old childhood friends of Darcy), but had agreed to drop all the food off. "Bring those cold cuts out?" he asked.
"No problem. So, let me guess, Dracula?"
"Yep. What are you supposed to be?" asked Mike, stepping into the chaos of the backyard, lit with the leftover tiki lanterns he had found in the storage shed, and the citronella candles Darcy had bought in the closest town market.
"Archie. From the comic books."
Mike allowed himself a low chuckle. "How apropos. Suppose your Asher is Betty?"
"She is. Finally, someone understands who I refer to."
"Must have been an American craze."
"Funny. Darcy said the same thing." To which Mike shuddered, and ducked again through the door to retrieve the last of the food.
