Sorry that this took so long, everyone. There's been a lot going on, not the least of which was a fucked computer. Water damage. I have the SSD drive, but I have no idea how much I'll actually be able to recover from it. Hence a big reason as to why this chapter is so late.
I promise we'll get some more actual "plot" stuff done soon. In the meantime, I hope this tides you over.
I do not own Soul Eater or Owl House.
If I did, Eda would be allowed to swear as much as she wants.
"I am terribly sorry, Eda," the ragged man bowed his head, the hat-like hood pulled so far down over his head it was practically a mask, his eyes invisible behind its thick blue-grey cloth, "I was suspicious of the girl when she made your delivery; you know how Bonesborough can get, these days…"
"Hey, I get it," she dismissed cheerfully, idly counting what he had handed her, "Illusion Witches are tricky bastards. It's not the first time that someone's tried to benefit off my name and reputation."
"But it would have been the first time someone made off with a genuine product of yours," he held up the medicine mournfully, the opaque red salve still unopened.
"Pff. You know I keep better track of my stuff than that," Eda grinned, "If I'm letting people snag my potions, then I have bigger problems than scammers trying to snatch up my scraps. Besides, wasn't King with her?"
"… heh. He was, yes," the Thief chuckled, "But in my defence, King isn't the most reliable indicator of a situation at hand."
"Have a little more faith in him. He's a little stinker for sure, but I wouldn't send him out at all if he weren't at least somewhat reliable," she frowned, double checking her total, "… payin' a little much for Bleedmoss Salve, don't you think?"
"Think of it as an apology for the trouble – and a thank you," despite the hood hiding his face, she could hear his smile, "Your work has spared me several close cuts. It's the least I can do."
"… well, I'm not one to say no to a little extra cash," she shrugged, pocketing the money, "You just watch your step, alright? Next time you get caught by the Imperial Guard, I'm probably not gonna be around to let you out of your cell. And Titan knows Patches sure as Hell won't, either."
"Yes, yes, I know. I'm not going back to the Cavitol anytime soon," he rose from his crouch, gripping the stones of the wall, "You stay safe as well, Eda. And please… offer my apologies to your employee?"
"I'll pass them along," she waved him off, "Take care of yourself, Greirat."
The Thief simply nodded, and then clambered up the wall, scaling the cobbles and beams of wood and bone as easily as if he were simply crawling across the ground. He slipped up over the edge, and disappeared from view, as if he were never there.
"... poor bastard," Eda shook her head, sighing, "Bleedmoss can't fix a bleeding heart, but if it could, he'd probably make for a first rate burglar."
Nonetheless, she turned on her heel, and continued on her way, quickly losing her wistfulness amidst the familiar pitched energy of the town around her.
Despite the dinge and danger that the back alleys of Bonesborough held for the average hapless traveller, there were few places that could add a greater spring to the Owl Lady's step. The clicks of her heels upon the cobbles were accompanied by the distant murmur of the town's main streets, dulled by a filter of stone and bone and dark and grime as the walls closed in on the ever narrowing corridors; she could feel the eyes upon her from every corner she turned, from every bent and crooked figure she passed, and in the spyholes carved into nigh every surface – not a single resident or storefront owner so trusting as to leave their backstreets unwatched no matter how close they were to the streets proper – and not one of those gazes held good intentions.
And she revelled in every second of it.
While there was never any true need for the Owl Lady to put on a mask, this winding labyrinth brought a vicious smile to her face in a way that few other things did, an exhilarating thrill that left her with a constant sense of anticipation. Though she was but one predator among many in these dank corridors, all of whom were waiting for even the slightest show of weakness from one another, that was all part of the game; a game she had an exceptionally deft hand for.
There was, after all, a reason so few would consider Edalyn Clawthorne a viable mark, regardless of what their game was.
She rounded another corner, the sun disappearing from view as she began a slow, sloping descent into the tunnels; though she had no intention of visiting the Marrowtown today, the passages that led there still served as a convenient shortcut from district to district – something she was grateful for, as Bonesborough could really only be called a town by technicality.
Though relatively small compared to the sprawling fortress-city that was the Imperial Cavitol, Bonesborough was still far larger than it had any real right to be; despite never expanding beyond the walls that marked its official borders, those borders could not be considered small by any stretch of the imagination. Even without the spiralling streets and the levels divided by elevation, walking from one end of the town to the other was often a multiple hour project, and as the centuries had rolled by, residences, businesses and paths were built from lumber and stone, carved from cliff and bone, or grown from demonic flesh, adding to the complexity of the town and transforming it into a city in all but name.
To be honest, Eda was still impressed that Luz had navigated Bonesborough as well as she had; she hadn't included the Marrowtown or its passages in the maps she'd given the girl - nor did she ever intend to - but even with King's help, unreliable as he could be, Luz had proven she at least could find her way around in town, well enough that she could find individual addresses with only minimal assistance.
Which, as she stepped out of the tunnel into the sunlight, brought the red-clad Witch to yet another door, cheerfully raising a fist and slamming it into the wood.
"Oi! Cammy!" she called.
No response.
"I know you're in there, ya lazy vamp, I'm here to collect!"
A moment of silence passed before the door slowly creaked open, a shock of dark hair and pale hazel eyes peering out from the crack. What could be seen of the figure's lips and brow were both curled down in a tired frustration.
"… well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes," Eda spun her staff idly, "Not happy to see me?"
"… not particularly, Owl Lady," the vampire spoke, voice low, practically a growl, "I was under the impression that our business had been concluded for the month. Did that… child… not deliver you your payment?"
"Oh, she did," the Witch flashed a toothy grin, more amused than anything else at the lie, "But that's the problem. I only got about a quarter of what you actually owe me."
"I see," those pale eyes continued to glare, unblinking, "Well, that is unfortunate. But I'm afraid you're looking in the wrong place. The girl must have taken the money for herself."
Eda bit down on a laugh, more amused than anything else at the blatant attempt at deception. She shifted her weight to one heel, holding her staff out to the side, beyond Carmilla's view; without any prompting, Owlbert unscrewed himself from the staff, and took off without a sound, circling around to the back of the building.
All the while, the Owl Lady kept talking, "See, Camilla-"
"Carmilla," the woman snapped.
"Sure, name yourself for Romania's biggest bully," she grinned, never missing a beat, "I would be more willing to believe that… if that girl, A, had any idea what a snail is actually worth, and B, wasn't such a terrible liar."
The door cracked open further, the vampire's glower only growing more severe as she craned her neck to meet the Owl's gaze, doing her best to glare down the length of her nose, "So you accuse me of lying instead, Eda?"
"Please. Don't pretend like this isn't the eighth time I've had this exact conversation today," she leaned forwards, eyes half lidded, teeth still bared with her smile, "You're not special. You haven't paid up, and I think you know what's going to happen if you cause a scene over some snails. Especially considering that little gambling ring you've got going on in your basement."
At this, those pale eyes finally widened, the fury draining away from the woman's face in a single instant of cold terror; deep in her Soul, Eda could feel her link to Owlbert, the Palisman gently tugging at the back of her mind, like a child pulling at the hem of their mother's dress.
Through his eyes, from his perch, she could peer into windows of the house, staring down through gaps in the curtains to see the figures gathered at the table. Even without seeing their Souls or the emotions they carried, the movement and passage of coin, as well as the shift in expression on Carmilla's face, was more than enough to confirm it to the Owl Lady.
She felt her lips pull back even further, "… I'm not going to throw you to the wolves, Cam-Cam. A few rounds of Hexas Hold 'Em never hurt anyone – well, not unless they were particularly bad at it.
"But by the same token, if you have enough money to risk gambling, you have enough to pay me for your delivery…" she raised an eyebrow, "Unless you want to go crawling back to Alcina?"
"… Mammonistic bitch, " Carmilla hissed.
"Like you're one to talk. House always wins, doesn't it?" Eda snarked, "I just want what you owe me. Once I have it, I'll be on my way."
The pale vamp pulled her lips back in a snarl, fingers digging deep into the wood of her door. Whatever words she had died in her throat as she choked and sputtered on her own rage, struggling to find insults or threats enough to force the Owl Lady to back down…
But the only response the silver haired woman offered was a shrug, "I'm not here to pick a fight. I just want my money. You can certainly start a ruckus, if you want; just keep in mind what the guards do when they happen across something like an unlicensed gambling den."
She idly jabbed a thumb over her shoulder, Owlbert silently returning to the tip of her staff; she didn't need to look back at the sound of heavy footsteps passing by to know what was behind her. The twitch of Carmilla's eyes was confirmation enough, flickering briefly to the street before meeting the Witch's golden orbs once more, snarl fading into a smouldering glare.
She turned away, stalking off briefly before returning with a handbag, digging around violently through its contents before pulling out a handful of coins and bills, violently shoving them into Eda's hands.
"There's your damn money," Carmilla hissed, "Now get off my property."
"Hang on," the Witch raised a finger, idly flipping through the bills, "Gotta make a proper count… two hundred… ten… twenty… thirty…"
She could hear Carmilla's teeth grinding against each other, and was tempted, however briefly, to slow her count down; just as quickly, though, she quashed the thought. As amusing as the vampire was when she was angry, there was no real need to cause a scene – and moreover, she didn't have time to waste here.
She still had one more stop to make.
Finally, Eda nodded, slipping the money into her pocket, "Pleasure doing business with you, Cammy. Same time next month?"
The only answer the one woman Parliament received was the heavy door slamming in her face.
Her crooked smirk grew as she shouted, "Next time, be a little nicer to Luz!"
With that, she turned, and strode away, leaving the vampire to stew in her own fury.
A small pulse shot up her arm from her staff, carrying a wordless query from Owlbert; she petted the carving on the head, stroking the wood with a soothing motion before delving back into the alleyways.
She didn't blame him for wanting to go back; enjoyable or not, it had already been a fairly long, tedious day, and the temptation to hop on her staff and just return to the Owl House was very real. By almost all accounts, her day was finished; she'd collected all the missing money, and oddly enough, the final name on the list had actually paid everything he owed to the Owl Lady.
But that didn't mean she wasn't going to pay Adegast a visit.
The garish, painfully bright neon sign that lit up the front of the bar was a perfect match for Chupacabra's equally gaudy interior.
Illuminated by candles that had been set upon the long, thin shelves along the length of the wall, entire establishment was absolutely saturated with purple. It alternated across the floor with the shiny black tiles; every wall, every shelf, every abstract, modern art painting and large leather loveseat shared that same shameless shade of purple so vibrant it was almost more of a dark pink. It even extended to the separating screens and the bar itself, and with those, it was somehow worse, their gaudiness enriched by polished, but cheap brass trim clearly intended to mimic gold. In the corner of the bar, an old stereo had been set in the gutted, then hastily filled remains of a once-vintage jukebox, played decades-old music through a grain of film, occasionally skipping every now and again – a deliberate flaw incorporated in hopes of making the old machinery seem more authentic, a cheap veneer presented as the genuine article… though it would hardly fool anyone who looked at it for more than two seconds.
Truly, the dive of cabaret bars, only a few steps above being a showgirls club.
But despite this air, Blair couldn't possibly feel any more at home.
She let out low, purring hums in time with the music as she idly shook the cocktail mixer, the cold of the metal oddly pleasant in her hands. The warm air was hazy, heavy with the scent of spirits, making her grateful for the dampening spells she'd learned so long ago; the myriad of scents, as well as their strength, would be wreaking havoc on her nose were it not for them.
Finally, she removed the cap, pouring the mix of gin, lime and lemon, syrup, egg white and cream through a strainer into the glass, idly pressing a finger to the side of the glass; a chill pulsed out from her Soul and down her arm, covering the glass in a thin layer of frost as tiny fractals formed within the drink, freezing just enough to form into a healthy froth right as she poured in the seltzer, filling it up to the brim.
"And there's your Ramos Gin Fizz!" she chirped, sending the drink sliding across the bar to the patron at the other end; it came to a halt right in front of him without so much as a single drop spilled, making him blink, raising his eyes to meet her with surprise.
She just giggled before taking her tools back to the sink, giving them all a quick, but thorough rinse, wiping them down with a fresh towel for their next use.
"… you're pretty good at this, considering this is your second night on the job."
The voice emanated from the edge of the bar; the cat glanced up, meeting the cerulean eyes of a woman in a short yellow dress, the pearls around her neck possibly the only genuine article in the entire building.
"Thank you, Risa!" Blair grinned, setting her tools back down on the counter, "It's good to know I still have all my basic know-how. I've slowed down a little, though."
"Slowed down?" a dark blond eyebrow arched, Risa laughing incredulously, "You got that Fizz out in thirty seconds, how is that in any way slow?"
"That's a full ten seconds longer than my old standard," she shrugged "Oh well. Just means I'm a little rusty!"
"… if you're that good, then what the Hell are you doing here? " the woman gestured, "Shouldn't you be in a high end cocktail bar or something?"
"Let's just say this place is a little nostalgic for me and leave it at that," the scantily clad kitten turned, lips upturned as she leaned back against the counter, reaching up to run her fingers along the inner line of her cleavage, "Besides, I like this work outfit more than those stuffy suits."
"Nostalgia and skimpy outfits," the senior Chupagirl rubbed her brow, smiling exasperatedly, "Alright, fair enough. Can't say I understand your logic, but whatever floats your boat… Blair, right?"
"Yep!"
"Just wanted to make sure… I love the cat ears, by the way," Risa pointed up to Blair's head, "How'd you do them?"
They flicked, Blair's smile only growing wider, "They're real."
"What?"
"No, seriously!" she reached up, brushing her hair back.
Before Risa could open her mouth to continue arguing, the door swung open, the bell ringing distantly as a man lumbered in, shoulders hunched and head of dark red hair hung low.
"… oh," the blond's expression softened, watching as the suit-clad man stumbled into the farthest booth he could, disappearing from view.
"… someone's down in the dumps," the cat woman murmured, leaning over the counter in an attempt to peer around the screen.
"No kidding," Risa crossed her arms, idly chewing a nail, "I knew he wasn't taking his divorce well, but damn… he looks like someone just shot his puppy."
"Divorce?" Blair blinked, turning back to her fellow bartender, "You know him?"
"Not personally," Risa assured, "That's Death Scythe, one of our regulars. He's probably one of the main reasons Chupacabra's even manages to stay afloat in this city."
"Aaaaah," the purple haired woman nodded sagely, turning her attention back to the booth.
"… actually, Blair, you wanna go sit with him for a bit?" the yellow clad woman picked up the cocktail mixer, "I can handle the bar for an hour or so."
"What, you want me to make sure he doesn't go John Wick?"
Those cerulean eyes danced with the senior chupagirl's smile, "Nah, Spirit's gentle as a lamb. He wouldn't hurt a fly unless it touched his daughters," she took out a block of ice, "That would be a different story, but if that were the case, I doubt he'd be here. But you're gonna have to meet him at some point anyways, and I know what his favourite drinks are. I get the feeling he's gonna want to be knocked flat on his ass, so I'll get him started with an Aunt Roberta."
"I'm sorry, what?" Blair raised an eyebrow, smile slipping briefly as incredulousness washed over her, "An Aunt Roberta as a start? "
"That man's got an alcohol tolerance that you have to see to believe. Now get over there."
"Alright," she shrugged, hopping over the bar and loping down to the corner booth where the man had disappeared behind a screen; she peered around the corner, sizing him up, lips pursed as her golden eyes took in his form.
He leaned forwards in his seat, elbows on his knees and one hand rubbing at his temple; his hair was wild, unkempt, strewn about in a thick mop of red that only served to make him seem even more haggard, eyes closed and lips pulled tight, the very picture of a man struggling to maintain his composure.
Smiling, Blair sidled in, a hand on her hip as she stared down at him, "Good evening, Mister Death Scythe."
He glanced up, his eyes a startlingly bright shade of blue as they snapped open; after looking her up and down, he finally relaxed, letting out a sigh tinged with relief.
"… Good evening," he raised a hand in kind, mouth settling into a crooked smile as he leaned back against the seat, "I take it you're going to be my hostess for tonight?"
"Provided Risa and Arisa don't take over from me," she chuckled, rounding the table and plopping herself down right beside the Reaper's Weapon.
His eyes remained firmly fixed on hers, only very briefly dipping before locking back onto her face, blinking. His smile slipped as he turned in his seat, staring.
Her own smile slipped slightly, "… something wrong?"
"… you're that cat."
She blinked in turn, "I'm sorry?..."
"You're that magic cat," he repeated, once again seeming entirely off kilter, "You fought Maka."
"… heh. Should have figured you'd know about that," she stretched, letting her ears flick, "Being a Death Scythe and all."
"… something like that," he murmured, eyes dimming as he once again slumped against his seat.
"… did I do something wrong?" she asked.
"No, no, it's… it's not you," he sighed, "I… I've just been having a rough day. First day home, and… well. It's one of those days, where it's just one thing after another."
"Aaaah, gotcha," Blair bobbed her head, "Well, I hope I can brighten up your day. Would you like anything?"
"I don't suppose an entire bottle of Alberta Premium rye is on offer?" he inquired wryly.
She snickered, "Not the cask quality stuff. That comes by the shot, not the bottle."
"Fair enough."
As if on cue, Risa slipped past the screen, tray in one hand, glass in the other; the tray was piled with five separate bottles, a shaker, and a small bucket of clear ice blocks, while dark liquid swirled in the cocktail glass in her other hand. She set down the tray first on the glass tabletop, then the cocktail in front of the red-headed Demon Weapon, smiling serenely, "There you are, Mister Death Scythe."
He cocked an eyebrow, "I hadn't even ordered yet."
"I thought I'd go ahead and make you something to brighten your mood. This one is on the house, if it makes you feel a little better?"
He picked up the glass, sniffing its contents briefly, "An Aunt Roberta… not the most refined drink, but honestly?... exactly what I need right now."
The Death Scythe tilted his head back, taking his first sip of the cocktail. The first sip quickly led into a second, and then a third, never pausing for breath, and within seconds, the entire drink was gone.
He set the glass down on the tabletop, letting out yet another sigh, this one tinged with content, "Thank you, Risa."
"Not at all, Mister Death Scythe," she gestured, "Blair will take care of mixing any more drinks that you want while you're here tonight. If you need anything else, please don't hesitate to let me know."
With that, she stepped away, disappearing once again into the throng beyond the makeshift booth.
Finally, Blair let loose the whistle she'd been restraining, picking up the glass and staring into the bottom, not a single drop remaining, "You've got no fear, Death Scythe. I can count the people I know who'd down that as quickly as you did on one hand."
"It's a skill," he shrugged, settling back again, "Though admittedly not one I'm all that proud of."
She made no comment. Instead, she set the glass down, letting her lips gently pull back in a coy smile, "… so I take it you've got no problems with me?"
"I don't see why I would."
"I thought the Reaper's policy was 'No Magic.' Am I an exception?"
Again, he shrugged, "I dunno. He hasn't sent anyone after you again, and I assume you're not on his list… granted, I'm not exactly in the right frame of mind to be answering that sort of question."
"Fair point," she chuckled, "Though I think it probably helps that I'm a cat."
This time, he managed a weak laugh of his own, "I suppose you're right about that. Blair, right?"
"Yep!" Blair turned in her seat, hands on her knees, one eye closed, staring at the man out of the corner of the other with her lips curled in her best smitten smirk, "Now, are you going to tell me your name? Or am I just going to have to call you Death Scythe?"
He paused, seeming to deliberate for a long moment before letting out a mirthless chortle. The Death Scythe reached out, tracing the rim of his glass before picking up a piece of ice, tossing it in his mouth.
"Spirit," he finally declared, "My name is Spirit Albarn."
Blair's practiced expression immediately shattered, her eyes snapping open and lips slightly parted as she turned to stare the Weapon in the face. She examined every contour of his face, his thin nose, his pale blue eyes, even his chin, neck and cheekbones in search of any resemblance he might have had to Maka.
It didn't take long for the cat to find. They shared the bridge of their nose, the shape of their brow, and now that she stopped to think about it, she realized why his expression had seemed so familiar – it was the same grimace Maka wore when something was bothering her, lips pursing and brow furrowing in a manner that was almost identical to that of the man before her.
The resemblance was by no means immediately obvious – but now that the magical feline had seen it, it was impossible to get it out of her head.
"… you're Maka's father," she murmured.
It was Spirit's turn to blink, caught off guard; after a moment, he sighed, crunching the ice between his teeth before giving a hard swallow, wincing as the chunks went down, "Yeah."
"… I thought you were just her teacher," she chewed her lip, letting her eyes fall to the bottles across the glass tabletop, "… this… certainly explains a lot."
"... what does it explain?" he queried.
"Mainly, why Maka got so upset when I told her I was starting work here."
He stared at her blankly.
"… sounds like we have some things to talk about," she said, shifting in her seat again, "Okay, so… after Maka and Soul took one of my Souls…"
" … she ended up living with us, " Maka muttered, her tone one of acid annoyance, the sound of pencil scratches faint in the background.
"Didn't you say she had a nicer place than yours, though?" Luz queried, doing her best to pay attention to the conversation while also scanning Eda's list, sorting through the box for what few ingredients she could identify.
" Two story house all to herself, " the Meister confirmed, " She said, and I quote, 'I wanna live with you two, specifically.' Even though Soul and I just have an apartment. "
"It's decently sized though, isn't it?" she pulled out what looked like a potato, "Four rooms, plus a closet for your washing machine and dryer?"
" Five rooms, if you include the bathroom. Which I swear she loves to hog for an hour at a time, regardless of who's home or if they need to use it. "
"I still find it wild that she likes baths so much," the Latina held up her arms, staring bemusedly at her skin, long since healed, "Last time I tried to give a cat a bath I had so many scratches, I looked like I'd been put through a Jigsaw puzzle."
" A what? "
"Jigsaw puzzle," Luz repeated, "Get it? 'Cause… sharp cat claws? Puzzles? Jigsaw is a horrible person?"
" … oooh, " Maka murmured slowly, " … that was actually kind of clever. Took me a second, though, never saw those movies. "
"Don't," the tanned girl forewarned, despite the grin spreading across her face, "They think they're a lot more clever than they actually are. They're honestly just kinda… dumb."
" Doesn't that describe most slashers, though? "
"Most slashers don't act like they're making some big, profound statement about the human condition. Plus, they're just… gross. That's really all I can say about them."
" Then why'd you even watch them? "
"Because I had the house to myself at the time and I was morbidly curious. It just ended up being one of those movies – like those bags of chips. They're gross, but they're right there, so it's hard to stop eating them. You know what I mean?"
" Not really. I don't really eat chips, and I don't watch a lot of movies, either. "
"Well, that's something we're fixing when we see each other!"
Maka huffed, " But seriously, I don't get what that cat's fixation with baths is. It's bad enough that she loves water enough to take up huge blocks of time in our bathroom, can't she at least take showers like a normal person? "
Luz raised an eyebrow, "If she's spending the same amount of time in there, wouldn't a shower just be wasting more water?"
" You know what I mean. It should be illegal to spend more than five minutes in the bathroom at a time outside of emergencies! "
"I can tell someone hasn't had a bubble bath in a while."
" Baths are for children, Luz. Bubble baths, even moreso. "
"My collection of bath bombs says otherwise," she chuckled, setting down another ingredient on the cutting board, "Besides, you're younger than me."
" And you have no idea how much that baffles me, " the younger girl sighed.
This time, the Latina couldn't suppress a wince, "Yikes… someone's grumpy."
" … sorry. Blair just… gets to me sometimes, " Maka finally admitted, " I shouldn't be taking it out on you. "
"Hey, I get it," Luz glanced back over her shoulder to where the tiny Demon furiously scribbled on a piece of paper, "King kinda gets on my nerves sometimes too, no matter how cute he is."
" King? " the Meister asked, perplexed, " Who's King? "
She turned to face him fully, biting her lip; King's eyes were narrowed with concentration as he scratched at the parchment with a pencil, stubby claws only barely long enough to grip the implement properly. The scribbling became more and more intense as he growled wordlessly, the frustration in his tone more than evident…
And then the pencil's tip snapped.
Without so much as missing a beat, he turned, and hurled it as hard as he could against the wall with a squeak of anger. It hit the wall with its eraser in a muted bounce, then rolled harmlessly across the floor, coming to a halt under the table. The diminutive pup let out a high pitched squeal, thrashing and stomping as he entered the throes of an impotent, but tumultuous tantrum, paper having been forgotten.
Despite herself, Luz couldn't help but break out into a smile, expression softening as King continued to thrash and squirm in place. She slowly approached him, dropping to one knee, though she didn't reach out to touch him just yet, speaking warmly, "… he's a little Demon, is what he is."
"A Demon?" the raised eyebrow could practically be seen.
"Yep. He runs around causing all kinds of mischief."
"I CAUSE DESTRUCTION!" King raged, only turning to glare at Luz for a moment before returning to his tantrum.
"Yeesh, that bad? I thought this camp was just for weird kids, not… problem children."
"Most of it's harmless," Luz whispered into the phone, hoping to spare King's feelings, "He's pretty small, so he can't actually do much."
"Oh, I see. So he's a little kid, then?"
"Yep. He takes pride in his havoc, though – he insists everyone call him 'the King of Demons,'" she giggled, "Hence the name."
" Aaaah. So you don't know his real name, then? "
"If he has another one, he hasn't told me," she rocked back on her heels, dropping into a cross legged seat on the floor, "But that's off topic. You were talking about… Blair?"
Maka let out a frustrated breath, " Yeah. The cat. "
"It really does sound like she's bugging you. How come you haven't made her leave?"
This time, her sister did not immediately answer. Silence was the only thing that emanated from the other end of the phone, silence as Luz idly watched the tantrum unfold before her. Slowly, the seconds ticked by, and the Latina felt her smile begin to slip.
"Maka?"
"I'm here. It's just… that…" the sound of something being chewed on from the other end of the line, "That's a harder question than I thought it would be to answer."
"How come?"
" Well, because… "
"Because?"
"… she… isn't all bad," the words came out slowly, as if forced through Maka's teeth, the acknowledgement every bit as begrudging as it was reluctant, "She… gives us a lot more financial freedom, because she has savings and a job… she can do healing Magic, which saves money on band-aids… she can cook…"
"… you have a rich, talking cat that can heal people, cooks, and keeps herself clean taking baths," Luz stated, incredulous.
" And physically transforms into a… freaking… " an infuriated growl echoed, " … freaking… ditz!"
"… Maka? I say this with love, but I fail to see the downside of having a talking, magical cat."
" That's because you aren't stuck with her. "
"You're the one who hasn't kicked her out."
The only response the Latina received was muted, indistinct grumbling, and once again, Luz felt herself struggling to hide her smile.
" … so, why'd you call, Luz? " the green eyed girl finally asked, trying to shunt her frustrations to the side, " I've still got some homework left to do. "
"I just wanted to make sure you're still good for Sunday is all," she bobbed her head back and forth, "You still good? Nothing's come up?"
" ... something has, actually," Maka started, "Soul and I are actually heading out to Italy for a- "
" ¿Que? " Luz interrupted, unable to stop herself as her mind abruptly froze.
" … Soul and I are heading out on a mission in Venice for extra credit- "
" ¡¿Puedes ir a Venecia?! ¡¿Para la escuela!?"
" ... Luz? "
" ¡Nunca pude ir a Italia para la escuela! ¡Me prohibieron ese viaje! " she whined, " ¡Tienes tanta suerte, Maka!"
" … Luz, you've gone full Spanish again. "
She let out a faux growl that was only semi-faux, "Sorry! I just… can't believe you get to go to Italy on short notice!"
" Again, it's for school, " Maka clarified, " Soul and I aren't going out there to eat or sightsee. We're probably going to be there for two days. Three tops. No tours, no sightseeing, just collecting the Kishin Egg Soul and getting out. "
"Still cool," Luz huffed, "You guys get trips arranged for you on an individual basis. My school gets those trips like, once every five years, and I was banned from it because 'weirdo.'"
" ... I'm sorry to hear that. "
"I just… ugh," she tucked her phone between her chin and shoulder, picking up the knife and setting the first of the potato-like things on the cutting board, "I hate my school sometimes. You have no idea how much I wish Mami would let me go to DWMA."
" If it helps, these aren't normal circumstances. Normally, anything outside of North America is outside of our branch's jurisdiction – we just got a call from the European branch for whatever reason and Soul and I happened to draw the right straw. "
"It helps a little, I guess," she adjusted her grip on her phone, "So you won't be able to teach me this week?"
" I'm sorry, Luz, " the tired regret in Maka's tone was palpable, " It's just been one thing after another lately. "
"It's alright, I get it."
" I'd offer to send an email with instructions, but that's against the rules. "
"Like the Academy textbooks?"
" Exactly like the textbooks. "
Another sigh, "Well, at least there's a good reason for it…"
" I'll double our time next week, okay? "
A small, soft smile finally crept back onto Luz's face, "… okay. Thank you, Maka."
" … you're welcome, " that time, there was a smile in Maka's tone, " Now I gotta go; I gotta get these labs done before the night's through. "
"And I gotta cook lunch – Eda should be back soon," the Latina nodded, "Talk to you soon?"
" Yeah. Talk to you soon. Bye, Luz. "
"Love you!"
With that, the phone clicked, and the line went dead.
She pulled her phone back down, and gripped the root vegetable, lowering her knife to cut-
"LUZ, NO!"
King's shrill voice made her jump in place, almost dropping the knife as he tackled her arm, scrambling to get the knife.
"King!?" she shouted, trying to angle it away from him, "What are you doing!?"
"Don't cut from that end!" he glared up at her, gripping the knife with one hand and pointing at the root with the other, "It'll scream so loud your ears will bleed!"
"What?" she blinked.
"Haven't you ever made mandrake tots before?" he snapped, as if it were perfectly obvious.
She stopped, then slowly turned to look at the vegetable on the cutting board; indeed, now that she had a better look, she could see the beginnings of a gnarled face on the end opposite from where she had been about to begin dicing, motionless, but distinct against the innumerable scabs and wrinkles across its surface.
"You have to cut off the head first, " King finally hopped down onto the counter, arms crossed, " Everyone knows that."
"… ooookay," she smiled, picking the demonic looking potato back up, "I don't think I wanna cook these anymore…"
"Weh?" he tilted his head, "But mandrake tots are the best!"
"King, do we have anything that…" she gesticulated, "doesn't scream at you if you cut it wrong?"
"Well, there's some other types of vegetables, but…" he crossed his arms, frowning, "They're really squirmy? Or they bite… or pinch… there's the griffon eggs, but those are gonna be hard to break without Eda around and I don't really wanna ask Hooty…"
"… okay, how about this," Luz approached, leaning against the counter, "Let's cook together, and you can tell me where everything is?"
"Hmmm… okay," he agreed, hopping down from the counter top, "But you have to pay close attention!"
"Don't worry, I will," she assured, smile broadening at the prospect of finally making some headway with King.
As long as she didn't have to cut off any heads…
"... which is why I eventually had to quit," Blair finally finished, "Because dealing with pre-cleaned mandrake root is one thing. Risking burst eardrums is another thing altogether."
"I can imagine," Spirit chortled, taking another sip of his cocktail, "Especially as a cat. Dealing with a plant that's supposed to kill you with its scream must have been nerve wracking."
"Only a specific subspecies does that," the cat corrected, smiling, "Its reputation is actually a bit overblown, since it's pretty easy to recognize. The only time it's actually dangerous is when it gets mixed in with other kinds of mandrake and all the leaves bleed together - and if that happens, someone's probably got it out for you, they don't normally cluster like that."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind," the Death Scythe set down his drink, the numerous bottles on the glass tabletop having been significantly depleted since they had been brought over.
Despite Blair's initial misgivings, Risa's words seemed to have rung true; since the initial Aunt Roberta, the redhead had downed an additional four separate cocktails, and was working through his sixth. Had the newly hired chupagirl not known that he could use his Soul Wavelength to dampen the effects of of the alcohol (much like a certain Owl she knew), then she certainly would have stopped him by now - if not due to rowdy behaviour, then to save him from alcohol poisoning, and the hangover that was undoubtedly in Spirit's future, Soul Wavelength or no.
And yet, such behavioural problems were yet to arise; though Spirit always seemed on the fringe of poor spirits himself, he maintained a polite and cheerful front with Blair. He spoke intelligently, if somewhat self-deprecatively, making a genuine effort to reciprocate her banter with that of his own. His hands never wandered, instead remaining folded in in his lap or reaching for his drink; his expression never leered, not so much as a hint of perverse thoughts shining through; even his eyes only occasionally dipped down from her face to meet what she had on display, and even then it was only for the briefest of moments; and he hadn't made a single untoward gesture or comment in the entire time they had been sitting together. His occasional voicing of dismal thoughts aside, his attention was entirely on her, on their conversation - the music, the lights, even the heavily perfumed air surrounding them seemed to have been entirely forgotten.
It was an air that was entirely at odds with the image the Black Forest Witch had in her mind after what little she had managed to glean from Maka; going off the young Scythe Meister's behaviour and offhand comments, she had envisioned Mister Albarn to be nothing short of a total sleaze, unlikeable and irritating on every possible level. And yet, Spirit had so far proven to be the complete opposite, remaining kind and considerate throughout the afternoon as the minutes swiftly turned to hours, though not without a bite to his sharp wit.
Blair had to admit - he was charming. Disarming, even. She hadn't been expecting this troubled, but seemingly genuine gentleman.
If this was how he acted around Risa and Arisa when they acted as his hostesses, then it wasn't hard to see why he'd be considered a ladies' man.
"At any rate," he finally murmured, smile distant, "I'm glad you're here."
"No concerns about me lounging around Maka and Soul's apartment?" she queried, giving a cheeky grin.
Spirit hummed briefly, leaning back in the seat before giving a halfhearted shrug, "Well, I'd be lying if I were to say I'm totally unconcerned. You did show up in their apartment unannounced, after all, and this is my daughter we're talking about."
A raised eyebrow, "What, no concern for Soul?"
"Should there be?" his tone was flat, dead.
" Wow, " she chuckled, "That's just cold. "
"Bite me," he grumbled, "Maka can do better than that little loser."
" There's the protective daddy coming out," she didn't even try to stifle her giggle.
The Death Scythe's smile returned, wry as he met her gaze out of the corner of his eye, before softening into something more gentle, "That being said… I don't think you've been doing anything to hurt Maka. She might not like you much, but… well, she's someone who doesn't warm to anyone immediately. You have to really stick around in order to get her to come out of her shell."
"So I've seen," she brushed her hair back, letting her own tone soften, "Though it's actually kind of a relief, knowing you don't think I'd hurt her."
"I have a pretty good idea of what you're capable of, Blair," he sighed, "I think if you really wanted to hurt her, you'd have done so already."
"Fair point. But no concerns about magic or hypnotism?" she asked, genuinely curious now, "That's the main thing people tend to be worried about when they find out I can do magic."
"Maybe a little… if I didn't know how hypnotism worked," he grinned, "You can't make a hypnotised person do anything they wouldn't do normally. It's all smoke and mirrors; anyone who'd let themselves get hypnotised on stage is probably someone who's not afraid to look like an idiot in public to begin with."
This time, the cat laughed, eyes squeezing shut with delight, speaking between wheezing breaths, "I-I think magical hypnotism should be a little more concerning to you than that…"
"Maybe," he closed his eyes, "But why go to the trouble of paying your share for the apartment if you were just going to mind control them for free room and board from the start?... granted, I suppose this could all be you laying the groundwork for some big, intricate plan that you've got…"
One of Spirit's eyes cracked open, scrutinising… before falling back closed, his smile only growing more self-satisfied, "... but to be perfectly honest, you don't strike me as the type to do a lot of planning ahead. You're a very 'live in the moment' kind of woman."
Another laugh escaped her as she leaned forwards on her knees, "Well, I can't exactly say you're wrong. You're pretty good at this."
"Nah. I'm mostly operating on the assumption that you're being honest - that, and the fact that Maka hasn't thrown you out yet."
"She hasn't exactly been trying very hard to get rid of me," Blair noted.
"Exactly."
That single word made Blair blink; all of the humour was gone from Spirit's voice, replaced with a pained wistfulness. In a fraction of a second, he seemed to age ten years, the shadows across his face shifting to make his eyes and cheeks seem sunken, brows downturned and eyes fixed on the floor. His hands clasped together in his lap as he hunched forwards, almost seeming to shrink and wither in place as the energy he had drained away to nothing, leaving him to resemble a ragged scarecrow in a sharp suit.
"... believe me," he whispered, seeming someplace else entirely, "If she wanted you gone… you'd be gone."
It didn't take a detective to understand what he meant. Her heart sank, her own smile slipping away as her ears drooped; she looked away, hands pressing together as she tried to decide what to say…
But nothing came to mind.
What could one really say, in response to such a heartbroken certainty?
"... I'm sorry," her words came out a mumble, only barely loud enough to be heard.
"... it's not your fault."
Before anything more could be said, a distinct buzzing rang out overtop of the music, snapping them both out of their shared reverie. The Death Scythe dug in his pocket, fishing out his phone and clicking it on… only to curse faintly as the bright light stung his eyes, making him squint as he read the text.
"... sorry to run out on you," he sighed, shoving the device back down into his jacket, "Looks like I'm back on the job…"
"Hey," she did her best to put a little cheer back into her face and voice, "Don't worry about it. Life's like that."
"... yeah," he forced a smile, then paused, "... hey…"
"Something you need?" she questioned.
"... could you… keep me updated on how Maka's doing?" Spirit finally asked, "Not-Not telling me personal details, I don't want you to go behind her back, and I know she doesn't want to tell me. Just… I can't help but worry. So… tell me how she's holding up?"
She paused, briefly, chewing at her lip once more. Maka wouldn't want Blair to be telling her father about her personal life…
… but general events? Things Spirit would probably know anyways? Generally… whether or not she was okay?...
… she winked, "Of course. You can count on me."
He nodded, picked up his glass, finished off his cocktail, and stepped out of the cubicle.
She peeked her head around the screen, watching as Spirit stopped briefly at the counter to leave what he owed to Risa, before stepping out the door, the bright afternoon sun briefly making Blair wince before the door swung shut.
It didn't take long to find the castle Luz had described – or at least, what was left of it; the crumbling ruin took up a sizeable portion of what had once been Bonesborough's upper crust, stone walls collapsed in on themselves, the thick, heavy wooden planks rotting away in chunks as the heavy metal frames collapsed under their own weight, too rusted to hold their shape. As Eda entered, light filtered down from holes in what was left of the ceiling above, massive bookcases toppled and broken, papers scattered and rotting across the stone floor.
"Adegast," she called, voice devoid of her former humour.
No one offered the Witch any answer.
Her eyes narrowed, gaze sweeping throughout the room; there was no immediate source of Magic or Soul Wavelength present, or at least none that she could see – but between the existence of both Soul Protect and illusory magic, that by absolutely no means meant she could let her guard down.
"What, you'll show yourself to a little human, but you scurry for a hidey hole the instant an actual Witch comes knocking at your door?" she taunted, lips curling again, "You're certainly not doing your image any favours."
Still, nothing. Not a single hint that anyone was even here, hidden amidst the rubble.
After a moment, Eda knelt, picking up one of the scattered scrolls, and uncoiling the parchment; her smile warped into a grimace, eyes narrowing as she took in the design of the map, clearly intended to be appear as though it were etched in equal parts passionate and painstaking calligraphy…
But every crisp edge was identical to the one Luz had dropped; a perfect copy, printed out on paper that had likely been painted with tea or coffee to give it an artificial air of age. The ones that sat in the sunlight gleamed with illusory cursive, the glare exposing the final trick; 'The Path shall only reveal itself to the worthy.'
A cheap, expendable lure, easily replicated to prey upon the naïve.
"… you really that desperate for Souls, 'Wizard of Bonesborough?'" a small spark flew from her fingertips, setting the paper in her fingers alight; it burned to ash, falling to the floor as she once again cast her gaze about, "Even for a Puppeteer Demon, this has gotta be a new low."
Finally, she saw it; a faint shift, an illusion briefly coming undone out of the corner of her eye. Though the ruins remained the same, the hulking shape at the top of the ruined stairwell flickered briefly, its outline almost entirely transparent as one of its many tendrils arced down towards her.
Eda's lazy back-step took her completely out of the tentacle's reach; it smashed down into the stone before her, crushing rotted wood and faded tile beneath it. Just as quickly, the tendril slithered back, slipping out of reach, the massive, shapeless figure replaced by a tanned skin man in purple robes, stroking his long, silver beard.
"… touched a nerve there, I see," she smirked.
"I won't deny it," the puppet sighed, taking off his glasses briefly to give them a polish, "It seems my temper has been getting worse, lately."
"I'm more surprised you're still using the puppets," her golden eyes traced the now visible outline of sprawling, boneless limbs, the central mass still perched at the top of the stairs; however faintly, his body still emanated his demonic Wavelength, his illusions not powerful enough to hide it properly – at least not from her eyes, "It's not like I don't know what you are or what you look like."
"Call it force of habit," he placed the spectacles back on the bridge of his nose with a grandfatherly smile, "I find people are much more agreeable to my business when they are negotiating with a more familiar visage."
"Well, at least you admit to being an ugly bastard."
This time, he didn't rise to the provocation; instead he returned to stroking the puppet's beard, idly running a finger through its long silver strands, "And to what do I owe the pleasure of a visit from you, Edalyn?"
"A warning," she mused, swinging her staff up and across her shoulders, "I want you out of Bonesborough. Tonight."
Adegast's puppet cocked an eyebrow, "… and what exactly brought this on, all of a sudden? You've never had any problems with my presence before."
"That was before you tried to lure my apprentice into the back of a windowless carriage," she idly ground the paper further into the cobbles, the sound of it scraping and tearing beneath her heel sending a wave of satisfaction sailing through her stomach, "Because I'm better at making and selling potions than you. I'd say I've lost my respect for you, but honestly, it was more of a tolerance."
Its jaw seized, eyes bulging out of its sockets before the puppeteer regained his composure, forcing the doll to act out the façade his true form couldn't maintain, invisible tendrils spreading throughout the room in a writhing, rising tide, "Yes, because you're being so much more honest with her, making a human your apprentice. If that isn't a cruel joke at her expense, I don't know what is."
"That doesn't change anything I just said," she kept her tone even, "I want you out of town by sundown. Or else. "
All at once, the tendrils lashed out at her; she could see them closing in from all directions, a net cast to give her no avenue of escape, another puppet at the end of each. The thrum of Souls long gone echoed in her ears, the Wavelengths forcibly stirred by the Demon's ornery wrath so that they might strike her down.
She didn't step back. She stood her ground, staff spinning lazily between her fingers as the golden barrier gleamed into being, blocking the steel strike of unlucky wanderer, the claws of the catfolk, the teeth of the vicious fairy, their pasts discarded so the husks left behind could be used as the puppet master saw fit.
He did not stop at that, however; he coiled around the shell, finally dropping the illusion that had been keeping him hidden, his puppets going slack, eyes drooping in their sockets, jaws hanging open and limbs stiff as all pretences of true life were abandoned. He seethed, beady black eyes gleaming with rage, juxtaposed against a face that was far too big for them, flabby lips and cheeks pulled back to expose massive, yellowing teeth set against rotted gums. Every breath brought a new wave of foetid stench, and even Eda couldn't stop herself from grimacing in disgust as it flooded her nose.
"And who do you think you are that you can make demands of me!? " he roared.
"Oh, that's simple," she chuckled, "I'm the Owl Lady."
A derisive snort emanated from his nostrils before his snarl warped into something resembling a twisted grin, "I would hardly be so confident were I in your position. I had intended to use the girl to lure you out… but here you are, coming to me of your own volition! The bloody fool you are!"
"Last warning, Adegast. Skip the speech and leave."
"It's been a very long time since I've tasted a proper Witch's Soul," he seemed to be talking more to himself now, raising the golden sphere, eyes gleaming with furious greed, "I wonder how much stronger you will make me."
His limbs began to squeeze, physical power rippling through each tendril as they constricted tighter and tighter against Eda's barrier.
The Witch just smirked, raising her hand in a fist before unfurling her fingers with equal parts speed and violence; the spherical barrier expanded, briefly, then exploded, throwing Adegast's tentacles apart and the Demon himself back against the bookshelves. He landed with the harsh, heavy crunch of rotted wood being smashed into splinters under immense force, thrown around like nothing despite his great size and weight. He groaned, trying to regain his footing as the Owl Lady watched, waiting for him to get back up.
"Did you really think I'd come here if I wasn't prepared for a fight?" she queried, pointing her staff at the horrid squiddle, "I came here to give you an ultimatum. You've refused. Now, I get to have some fun. "
He snarled as he pushed himself up, a pulse of Magic escaping him; immediately, the musty air became acrid, heavy with the scent of sulphur. The first breath she took seared her lungs, her mouth and nose screaming as if she'd inhaled a poison mist, her skin and eyes burning as the yellowish cloud billowed from his mouth and filled the room, obscuring the Demon from her view.
A replication of the gases found in the Tumour Hills.
'Not a bad play,' Eda admitted to herself, listening as the heavy masses approached from all sides.
'Too bad I know an illusion when I see one. He didn't even bother to hide the pulse of his Wavelength.'
She forced herself to take another breath, despite the pain that came with another wave of the acidic air. She stepped to her left, dodging the first of the strikes, and raised her staff, feeling the heavy blow rock down her arms and through her body as she deflected it off and to the side. All the while, her own Magic welled up from within, building in her core as she concentrated her Wavelength…
And she released it all at once as she swung, dragging her staff along the length of Adegast's limb, and driving the palisman carving into the Demon's skull, his approach none too subtle under the cover of his illusory Magic.
The obvious play of a rank amateur.
His entire body rippled and crumpled under the force of the impact; she felt something cave under her swing, and as the Demon choked, his illusion came undone. The cloud of yellow mist dissipated into nothing, and the burning sensation across her body stopped all at once, little more than a lie told to the physical body.
Adegast's hulking form lay prone and limp on the cobble floor, groaning as he reached for the wound in some vain attempt to hold himself together. Even as she idly wrenched her staff free, he had seemed to have lost interest in her, instead preoccupied with his headache – justifiably so, considering how much worse she had made the pre-existing crack.
But the physical wound was nothing in comparison to the fluctuations of his Soul, which was now rapidly losing strength; his Wavelength was growing weaker with every second, the actual shape of the Soul losing definition and shrinking just a little bit more with every passing second.
"… wow, " Eda chuckled, "And here I thought you'd put up more of a fight. I mean, seriously, I hit you once. I didn't even hit you that hard. I know Demon's Souls lose their power if they don't feed on Soul energy regularly, but seriously, long has it been since you've actually maintained your Soul?"
His only response was a low gurgle as his physical body began to shrink in tandem with his Wavelength, both losing more energy and more size. Before long, the imposing Demon that had stood before her, with tendrils that trailed dozens of feet long throughout his abode, had withered away to a tiny little thing, a cute, vaguely mushroom shaped creature that could easily fit in her palm.
He took one look at her, and promptly tried to skitter away.
"'Ey, no ya don't," she spoke, tone faux stern as the Witch snatched what remained of Adegast up into her hand, fingers forming a cage around the tiny creature, "I gave you fair warning. You don't get to run."
If the squeaks he made were that of protest, she couldn't decipher them. She only gave him a brief once over with a crooked smile and half lidded gaze before making her decision.
A Demon's Soul this weak wouldn't do much… but, hey, it would at least tide her over until dinner.
With that, the Owl Lady opened her mouth, and dropped him in without a second thought. She only held him there briefly before swallowing him whole, the sensation of his squirming and his Soul Wavelength pulsing pleasantly against her throat before vanishing entirely.
"And that's the last one dealt with," she patted Owlbert's head; immediately, the Palisman unfurled his wings, and the staff gently hovered above the ground, waiting for her to get on.
She didn't keep her partner waiting; the Owl Lady mounted the staff, and the two rose gently into the air, taking off into the afternoon sky.
"Let's go home, Owlbert," she sighed, contented.
"… I wonder how Luz is holding up…"
Again, I am so sorry this took so long. I can't promise as to when the next chapter will be out, but rest assured, it is coming.
I'm not giving up on this story. I love it way too much.
...
Oh, side note, here's everything Luz says in Spanish:
"¿Que?" ("What?")
"¡¿Puedes ir a Venecia?! ¡¿Para la escuela!?" ("You get to go to Venice!? For school!?")
"¡Nunca pude ir a Italia para la escuela! ¡Me prohibieron ese viaje!" (I never got to go to Italy for school! I was banned from that trip!)
"¡Tienes tanta suerte, Maka!" (You're so lucky, Maka!)
...
Thank you all so much for your patience. Please be sure to leave your thoughts below! I hope you all enjoyed the nineteenth chapter of Owls and Souls, Witches and Resonance!