i am not thai nor have i ever eaten thai food so if i got this horribly wrong, i'm sorry

"Are you much of a chef, Henry?"

"Not really," He said, sitting at the kitchen table, trying pointedly the ignore the eyes of Victor's two…children staring at him from the darkness of the stairwell. "But my boyfriend is."

"It's fascinating," Victor said in a voice Henry had only ever heard when he spoke of necromancy or biology. "Thai food, in particular. There are 5 flavors used: salty, sweet, sour, spicy, and creamy. It's important to balance the flavors in a dish so it isn't overpowering or boring. It's a bit like necromancy in that way."

"Is it?"

Victor's hands were a blur, chopping vegetables even faster than Henry could write- and that was saying something. "Necromancy requires a strong connection to the deceased's soul, but if it isn't tempered with a heavy dose of willpower, you'll just conjure the soul, disjointed from the body. And yet without the connection, no soul will be brought forth and the body will be animated, but not conscious."

Henry frowned. "Could it still move and stuff?"

"Oh, yes," Victor nodded, tossing the chopped vegetables into a pot on the stove. "But only when expressly commanded to do so. Most armies in the past used soulless simulacrums, as I'm sure you recall from history class. And although it was banned in the Geneva Convention, they were quite economical, since a body can be reanimated over and over- it is the soul that can only be brought back once."

Henry hummed, side-eyeing the figures hunkered in the stairwell. He wasn't well-versed in any magic apart from wordsmithing, but he knew souls couldn't be constructed. The majority of Victor's childhood had been spent hung up on this fact, but it was exactly that- a fact. One that opened the door to a question he wasn't entirely sure would be appropriate to ask. But it was Victor, and he'd always championed the quenching of curiosity, even if the question was deemed 'socially ungraceful'.

"So…whose souls did you use for…?"

"For my children?" He stirred the pot, not looking up once. "Do you remember my late siblings? They were twins- William and Elizabeth."

"Oh-! Yes, I remember, I'm sorry-"

"It's quite alright." His voice was gentle, level, at peace. But Henry could see him as a young child, clear as day, sobbing hysterically at his first of many encounters with death. That's what had interested him in necromancy, although Victor's father forbade him from ever attempting to bring back his siblings, or later, his mother, and finally the man himself. He never approved of Victor's forays into what he considered arcane magic- one of the only things Henry had ever agreed upon the man with. But evidently, Victor hadn't listened.

Henry looked once more to the stairs. "Do they know?"

"Yes. And I know they're listening now- but I've been very open with them. Why lie? They deserve to know who they are, even if they don't remember it."

He set the spoon down and spoke a little louder. "But speaking of which, will you please set the table?"

The figures stood and moved out of the shadows, although Talitha's face remained hidden under her hood. But the thick scarring on her brother's face and arms were clear to see, as were the massive yellow eyes.

A shudder ran down Henry's spine. They even moved weirdly, their movements graceful but skittish, moving in quick, precise jolts rather than smooth motions. They watched him as they worked, bright eyes unblinking and never leaving his form, which was soon covered in a cold sweat.

He tried to make conversation with Victor but saw from the corner of his eyes that the creatures didn't stop staring at him, except to occasionally whisper to each other, only to snap back to work when Henry turned his head slightly, to try and read their lips.

Victor served them, the soup steaming from the bowls and giving off a warm, spicy aroma- khao soi, if Henry had to guess. Although there didn't appear to be any meat in it- maybe Victor was a vegetarian now?

Once they'd all sat down, Victor waited in silence for Henry to finish praying before he began to speak again- one of the thousands of gestures from their childhood that Henry had missed so much.

"Are you religious?" Lazarus asked, startling Henry with his deep, melodic voice.

"Uh- yes, I am," He said, putting on an uneasy smile and forcing himself not to look away from the grotesque face. "I'm Catholic. My boyfriend is a Mahayana Buddhist."

Lazarus nodded, his eyes still boring into Henry's. "I find religions fascinating. I have always felt rather close to Buddhism, seeing as I interpret my reanimation as a sort of reincarnation."

"They both strongly believe in the sanctity of life," Victor said. "They don't eat meat, and I've lost count of how many injured animals we've nursed to health."

Finally, Lazarus looked away and Henry's gaze immediately jumped anywhere else, landing on the empty spot in front of Victor.

"You're not eating?" Henry asked. Victor shrugged and quickly brought up Henry's studies again, a subject that, despite him knowing it was a distraction, Henry couldn't help but talk about. Wordsmithing really was amazing- the nuances and rich history aside, it was fun to speak in rhymes.

Henry did catch sight of the siblings sharing an occasional look that he recognized well from his own childhood- they were plotting something. His suspicions were only strengthened when they cleared the table and began to wash the dishes, snippets of their whispered conversation floating to Henry's ears. But he smiled and continued to talk to Victor.

"What've you been up to these 3 years?" Henry asked. "If you don't mind me saying, you seem…different. Not that that's a bad thing, I just…"

Victor smiled. "That's a fair question. I sought out help and put my work on hold very soon after moving here- I realized I couldn't go on the way I had been. I suppose you could say I regained control of my life? I'm content and I've made peace with what happened. I'd had the idea of making children for some time prior, but I didn't want to until I felt I could care for them properly. I didn't want to repeat my parents' mistakes, you know?"

Henry nodded, staring at the creatures. They stared back. "How old are they?"

"A little over a year."

The children whispered for another moment before Talitha walked in front of Victor, her hands pressed together. "We have a proposition to present to you."

Henry raised an eyebrow. Kids were weird, and these ones seemed especially so. It was odd to think of such massive figures as children, though.

"I'm listening," Victor said.

"We think we should watch a movie," Talitha continued. "Since we don't know Henry very well, it would be a good way to spend more time with him, and we could even have him pick the movie."

"I don't know," Victor hummed, although his tone made it abundantly clear that he was already convinced. "It's past your bedtime already."

"Yes," She agreed. "But consider: if we all stay up late, Henry will sleep in later and therefore stay longer."

Victor looked to Henry, who forced out a little laugh. Victor stood up with a smile. "Alright, I concede. What would you like to watch, Henry?"

He watched as the children shared bright, triumphant grins; he suppressed a shudder at the sight of Lazarus's wrinkled scars and shriveled lips twisted into a smile.

He looked away and shook his head, putting on another smile as he looked at Victor. "How would you feel about a Studio Ghibli film? We watched them together as kids."

Victor nodded, following his children into the living room. "I remember. Every time I see one now, I think of you."

Warmth spread through Henry's chest as he sat in the armchair. Some of his happiest memories were of watching Ghibli movies with Victor, the late afternoon sun illuminating Henry's childhood home and catching the motes of dust that lazily drifted around. The change of pace was always nice; Victor was always talking, researching, the wheels of his brain always turning. Peace and quiet were a welcomed respite.

He looked at his lifelong friend, curled up in-between his children, one of their hands in either of his. Peace and quiet had found Victor, but it hadn't been because of Henry.

Henry woke with a start, sitting up in the slightly-dusty guest bed he'd been given. He rubbed his eyes, looking at the soft glow of his watch. 2:14, it read.

He slid out of bed, wincing at the cold stone floor under his bare feet. The shock did little to dispel his unease, though. Something had woken him- Henry was a heavy sleeper, even in unfamiliar places.

An ominous green light spilled from under the crack in his door. He took a deep breath, coughing slightly when dust tickled the back of his throat, creeping forward and pushing the door open. The light was coming from across the way, from Victor's lab. Maybe that was normal? Who was Henry to dictate when Victor could and couldn't work?

But there were two sets of shining eyes staring at him from the floor below.

"Is that supposed to happen?" Henry asked, pointing at the lab. Just as he did, the tower shuddered under some force and smoke billowed out from the doors. Over the boom, Henry could make out the sound of windows shattering.

He looked, wide-eyed, to the children. Their expressions mirrored his own and gave him an obvious no.

"Okay," He said weakly. "Okay."

He crept along the wall, a hand on the railing in case of another explosion, or whatever it had been. He stopped only briefly before Victor's door, pulling it open.

Harsh light immediately assaulted his eyes and even as he shut them, a stark image had been burned into his retinas. When his vision returned a moment later, he saw the same picture- a man, dressed tackily under his flowing robe, floating a few feet from the ground as that same ghoulish light shined out from his eyes and mouth. Words spilled out, too, in Latin- a language Henry knew well, although he was certain Victor hated it.

Ever so slightly, Victor turned to him. His blood froze.

"Victor?" He called, his voice uncertain.

"Et hinc mors venit, his tamen viribus dissolvi potest," He chanted. Henry couldn't suppress a shudder at the cold voice.

"What's happening?" Henry tried again, raising his voice to be heard over the chanting and the wind that emanate from Victor, tearing books from their shelves and sending glassworks crashing to the floor. Henry's throat tightened as he fought back tears, stepping closer to the door.

"Dominium mortis nobis datum est, et mors regnat super nos."

Then he was passing the door. In a split second, Henry saw the ground far below him and the high ceiling much closer than it should be. Then it began to grow distant again and with a flash of terror, Henry fell back towards one of the blasted-out windows.

He braced himself for a bone-splintering impact on the grass below, but just as the night air brushed his face, clawing him and ready to drag him to a quick demise, another hand grabbed the back of his shirt and pulled him back into the tower.

Henry opened his eyes and found himself hanging a few inches from the ground in Talitha's grasp.

"Thanks," He whispered, although it came out more like a squeak as she set him on shaking legs. He'd almost died. Victor tried to kill him. Victor had almost killed him.

"What are we to do?" Lazarus whispered. Henry steadied himself against the wall and took a few grounding breaths. He didn't know what to do- he didn't even know what was going on.

"I think something went wrong with Dad's necromancy," Talitha said, staring at the lime-green light coming from the lab. Henry started back, taking another gasping breath- he hadn't realized how close he was to the- the creatures.

They looked at him and he tensed, but there wasn't any malice in their features. If anything, they looked lost, as if he somehow held the answers in this situation.

They're kids, Henry reminded himself. He was the adult here.

"Victor was speaking in Latin?" He eventually said, wishing they'd take their eyes off of him. "Something about death, and undoing it?"

Lazarus frowned. "'And hence death comes, but it can be dissolved by these forces'?"

"Yeah," Henry said slowly. "Does that have significance?"

"It's from the Tome of Necromancy, a handbook and starting place for most who chose to venture into such magic. I-I think maybe he's been possessed? I've heard instances of such things happening."

Henry blinked. "By what?"

Lazarus looked at the floor. "Necromantic powers. You can't control them, you- you just use them, in a sort of pact. It is very easy to bargain with the dead, seeing as all things return to them, even if allowed to live a short while longer. But sometimes they're too strong, or too angry, or simply unwilling."

He took a deep breath. Maybe he'd been right in condemning Victor's choice of study- he never would have been so passive if he knew possession was a possibility, or that it worked by making some kind of Faustian pact. Likely why Victor had never told him. Henry's head pounded- why couldn't Victor have gone into something harmless, like wordsmithing?

Henry jumped back as a stone from the ceiling crashed down in front of him, and he collided once more with Talitha, who steadied him with a hand on each shoulder. Nausea rose within him and tears pricked at his eyes.

"We- we have to go," He spat, tearing himself away from Talitha and walking briskly down the stairs.

"But Dad-"

"We can't help him if we die here!" He snapped, his words punctuated by a section of the ceiling crumbling down. The children dashed down the stairs for cover, Talitha's cold hand grabbing Henry's wrist as they went. He stumbled, desperate not to trip on the stairs and fighting to free his hand all the while.

He all but threw himself away from them when they all got outside, stumbling back and rubbing his wrist. It was a moonless night and the clearing was lit only by the eerie, undulating light that came from the shattered windows.

Henry ran a hand through his auburn hair. List- he needed a list, or he wouldn't be able to think. Victor was possessed- that was his first priority. Counterspells could fix that. The university library had the biggest collection of spells in the world- they were bound to have one effective against necromancy.

Alright. That was doable. He looked at the children, who held each other's hands and watched as the smoke billowed into the night. Henry chewed on his lip- he couldn't just leave them here. Could he? No, no, that'd be horrible, they were just children- but they were unnatural-

Henry took a deep breath, focusing on the soft, damp grass beneath his feet. He would take the children with him. They were Victor's.

He opened his eyes. "We're going to my university. They'll have something to help."

He fished his keys out of his pocket and unlocked his van, squinting at the interior lights. The backseat was spacious, enough for both of Victor's kids. They'd probably stare at the back of his head the entire drive, though.

With a forced grin, Henry beckoned to the open door. Driving alone was boring, anyway, right?