And the weeklong countdown to Halloween begins! Sorry the chapter's so short, but I'm going to try updating every day this week to make up for it.
(7)
Chapter 30
Shingles
"Derrick, the turkey's done!"
"…Kay…" the man called from the living room.
"Baby girl, put your dolls up and go get your brother."
The daughter groaned dramatically, "Why do I always have to do everything?"
The mother rolled her eyes as she closed the oven door with her foot.
"Derrick! Turn the TV off. It's time for dinner." She pulled off her oven mitts to open up the oven bag she cooked the turkey in.
The dad mumbled something and called back, "It's almost halftime!"
"Who's winning? Us or them?"
"…Them…"
"Well, that's not going to change anytime soon."
Eventually, the dad sighed and hit the recorder on the television.
A few minutes later the perfectly ordinary human family in Yeoman, Washington was seated around their dining room table with a huge traditional Thanksgiving meal in front of them.
"So, who wants to say grace?" the mom asked cheerily looking at her children expectantly.
"Grace," the son muttered sarcastically, so quiet that his Gameboy was almost louder than him.
"Buddy put it away."
The girl stuck her tongue out at her brother.
The boy just rolled his eyes and made a face back, slouching further in his chair, the wood creaking annoyingly under him.
"Martin, listen to your mother."
Martin just ignored his dad and continued to press away at the buttons. He let out a shout of shock as the Gameboy was suddenly pulled out of his hand and set carefully next to the father's empty plate.
"Hey! You can't just…"
"I bought it. So, yes, I can. You'll get it back after we all have dinner as a family, just like we do every year."
The boy just scowled.
"So? What are you thankful for, sweetie?" the mom asked.
"Nothing."
The mom frowned and stifled a sigh.
There was a slight shift in the air as something that couldn't properly be seen by human eyes crushed four red leaves in their hand before blowing the soft red dust at the family with a sharp puff of breath across their palm.
The spirit gently whispered something in the little girl's ear.
The girl raised her hand excitedly. "Well, I'm thankful for something Mama!"
"And what's that, baby girl?"
"I'm thankful for…" the girl hummed thoughtfully for a moment. "You! And Daddy. And Grandma and Grandpa, even though they couldn't come, and for Spot and Mr. Jingles, and aaaaall my friends at school. And it's really cool having school at the library while the school's closed. Ms. Northrop tells really good stories." She frowned for a moment, "And I'm really really thankful Marty's friend is okay even though his big sister died. He's a nice guy. He helped me pick out my bike at the store. Remember, Dad?"
The mom and dad glanced at each other uncomfortably.
"We don't need to be talking about that, honey…"
"But you're right," the dad said, "I'm very thankful that I still have both of you munchkins."
"I'm thankful neither of you got hurt in the fire," the mom added.
Marty shifted and scratched the scab on his knee that he got running out of the building last Halloween. It's been a month, so it was pretty much healed anyway.
"Yeah…" Martin rolled his eyes before the words in the back of his throat itched enough, "Fine….I'm thankful mom's not a bad cook."
"Well crap, you stole mine," the dad laughed.
"Derrick!"
"Don't repeat that, kids."
"What?" the girl asked in confusion, "Crap?"
The dad howled while his wife glared at him.
Martin snorted.
Governor Hale cracked a smile at the laughter as the dad started coming up with more and more ridiculous thanks in a joking attempt to replace the one his son "stole." She was a little curious about this "fire" they mentioned but didn't think much of it.
She looked up at a figure outside the family's dining room window waving frantically.
"What do you mean, you lost her?"
The spirit self-consciously brushed a hand over the dyed feathers stuck in his dark hair. "I'm sorry Ma'am. She's quite a fleet-footed creature."
"She did hear me say you were going to her family's home eventually?" the older Anglo woman sighed.
"Yes. But…she seemed a bit impatient."
The Governor let out a long unladylike groan, suddenly feeling the many years of her life as a spirit sink into the illusion of her younger body.
Why couldn't that skeleton just stay near one of them like requested? If she weren't back at the portal with the rest of them when the night was over, they would have to close it without her.
Sarah Josepha Hale was still hoping the Halloween Citizen would come to her senses and go home to her Holiday.
The Thanksgiving Citizen breathed deeply to calm herself. "Any word from home?"
The man looked confused.
"About the Halloween King. Has he made an appearance yet?"
The Native American resembling spirit straightened suddenly. "Ah. Nothing that I've heard yet. Sorry."
Sarah nodded and gestured for the man to follow her. They still had more houses to visit. Time was always of the essence when you're the personification of a Holiday.
The two spirits quickstepped down the long driveway.
"You really think he'll even show up?"
Sarah raised an eyebrow. "Sweet Water, if you decided to leave our holiday…"
"Governor, I would never—"
"Don't interrupt. IF you ever decided to run away from home, I would personally chase you down with every ounce of power I have to try convincing you to come home to your wife and daughter. I would do anything short of hog-tying you myself."
"I'm not sure you could if you wanted to," Sweet Water joked, smiling down at the beloved town co-leader. He wasn't a scrawny boy by any measure. Any human's first glance would put him at thirty years old at least. And he was very fit.
"At that note, Squanto would be with me anyway, so I'd leave that part to him. In any case, you see my point. I wouldn't expect anything less from any other Holiday."
"Dad!"
Sweet Water and the Governor jumped at the shout down the darkened street in the human world.
To human ears, it was a wispy rattle in the evening air.
Little Braid huffed as she pulled to a stop, her hair flopping in her face as she caught her breath.
"About time, missy," Sweet Water snorted.
"They took a while, Dad," Little Braid complained, "How behind am I?!"
"About 500 households. But your mother and I have been keeping up."
"Even with your own humans?"
The Governor chuckled, "Little Braid, your parents have been part of Thanksgiving for many more years than you. They can handle a few hundred Thanks on their workload. We're slipping a bit, but we're on schedule for now." The lady looked behind Little Braid for a moment with a slight frown. "I take it King Jack is here?"
"Well, yeah, of course he's…" Little Braid choked in surprised when she turned behind her. There was no one there. "He was just behind….Where'd he…"
"I'm right here Ms. Braid," Jack said from right next to them, his form barely visible in the shadow of the towering hedge they stood next to.
All three Thanksgiving Citizens screamed in shock and surprise as they jumped back, even the Governor who was half expecting it.
Sweet Water stumbled back, and his foot slipped off the curb. He caught himself on a mailbox before he went hip deep in a storm drain.
Jack couldn't help himself and cackled a little before he managed to stifle it. He let them catch their breath for a moment. "Hehe. I thought you knew where I was."
"NO!" Little Braid hissed, breathing hard. And she thought Anna was startling.
"My apologies then," Jack said graciously. He bowed to the Governor, his thin body looming into the light, "Madam."
"Hello Jack," Hale sighed harshly. "It's been a while."
"Nearly a year. We really must try to meet more than just on New Years, Governor."
"Agreed. But that's not the concern at the moment. I'm assuming you know of the situation."
Jack's thin skeleton form shifted, "I know. But I'm afraid you don't."
Sarah's eyes narrowed at the stick figure freak. "Pardon me?"
"I don't have time to give you a full explanation even if I wanted to, but please, get your people to leave this town as quickly as possible."
"Mr. Skellington, that's a rather outrageous request to make," she leaned forward and held up a finger threateningly, "This is our Holiday you…"
Jack knelt down and took the lady's shoulder making all three other spirits squirm at the almost aggressive contact.
The woman stiffened at the sensation of sharp, hard fingers lightly digging into her flesh. It frightened her for a moment, but…
There was something about the action that disturbed her.
Was Jack…trembling?
She could feel the slight vibration of his bones echo through her shoulder and there was a faint scratching sound in her ear as his hand bones hit each other minutely.
"Milady Hale," Jack pleaded, his other hand outstretched, "Please. I am trying to be as careful as I possibly can when I say that anyone around Anna or me at the moment is in extreme danger. Please. Where is she?"
Sarah glared at the skeleton, spine stiff in fear and anger for a moment.
But Jack didn't budge. It was one of those moments when he wished he had eyes. Maybe she would believe him then. He was going to have to resort to scaring her if it came to that. He didn't want to be that desperate. Everything the holidays have worked toward to understand each other would be swept away in an instant.
Sweet Water stepped forward but stopped at Sarah's outstretched hand.
"If I can spare a minute, you can."
Jack stared at her for a moment, then let go.
The governor brushed her shoulder. "She was supposed to stay with Sweet Water here but she, how would you say? 'Gave him the slip'?"
Jack nodded. "Do you know where her family…ah..." He struggled with the word for a moment. "…lives?"
"No, but thankfully…" the Thanksgiving Citizen reached into her bag and pulled out a small stack of red leaves.
"Those belong to her family I presume?"
Holiday Spirits often tried to memorize most of the streets of the towns they visit, but individual addresses were often a little much for them. Even Santa Claus had trouble.
Sarah nodded. "We can find them through these. Explain, Jack."
The skeleton eyed the other two Thanksgiving spirits, but he didn't rise from his crouch. His coattails brushed the concrete.
Sarah didn't look like she was about to dismiss the teenager and her father anytime soon.
Jack chose his words carefully. "You are…aware that magic and…such…are not limited to our Holidays?"
"Of course."
"And are you aware that there are creatures in the human world who have their own ambitions and care little for us."
"Where are you going with this Skellington?"
"There's a certain demon…"
Sarah's mouth disappeared into a thin line and her eyes narrowed at the word.
Jack didn't dare look away to check Little Braid and Sweet Water's expressions.
"A demon who has a…vested…interest in Annalise."
They paled.
"A demon…" Governor Hale's voice was soft, disbelieving, but she couldn't look away from Jack's sockets.
Little Braid looked a little sick while her father looked horrified and confused.
Jack nodded, hoping he wouldn't have to go further.
"What do they want with her?"
"To take her away," Jack said shortly.
"I…" Sarah looked horrified, hand to her mouth as she turned away.
"Governor…"
"Jack if I had known…" Sarah whispered guiltily.
Pity was often difficult for a monster to grasp at times, but Jack managed.
"But you didn't. Please. Just keep your people out of the way." He was surprised by how easily she believed him. He suspected she simply had no reason to think he would make such a thing up.
He wasn't, of course, but it was the principle.
Her trust was impressive given their relationship.
Two human men walked down a street offshoot of Yeomen's downtown area.
One nodded politely to an older woman as they passed.
His cohort elbowed him.
"What?"
The elbower just smirked.
"Just playing the part," the other defended.
His companion was silent for a moment.
"We've been on this street before," he said eventually.
"It must have doubled back."
"Hmm..."
"What?"
"If it did, we have a problem."
"In what way…"
The companion refused to answer as a group of teenagers skipping out on their families' Thanksgiving evening passed by, apparently drunk.
They waited until the loud humans were out of human earshot.
"It means it's consciously avoiding us. It means it knows."
"Knows what?"
"She knows we're looking for her, you sniveling idiot."
The man who had nodded to the old lady paused in his step, clearly insulted. "How does it even know of us?!"
"How would I know?" the other hissed, skirting around a man running past them, his coat over one arm while he sputtered excuses to his wife over the phone.
"What even is the thing we're looking for?"
"Skeleton."
"I still don't understand that bit."
"Would you shut up and work? It's not like anyone tells me much of anything either. But if the boss wanted us to find some monster, that's what we'll do," he thrust a handkerchief at the other man.
The other man sneered at him and swiped the handkerchief away, sniffing the crusting stains on the cloth. He licked it.
"Spinal fluid," he muttered, refreshing the taste and scent's memory, "If the boss could get a sample of this, how'd it get away from him?"
"Feel free to ask him yourself."
"No thanks…"
They passed a darkened alley, the light of the streetlamps glinting the reflection of their eyes into the dark.
They flashed a dark red before receding into human pupils again.
Their silhouettes disappeared from sight in a moment.
A thin shadow detached from the brick wall and crouched low, peeking out down the street.
The two men were gone.
So was the skeleton after a moment, a single clatter of a roof shingle falling to the ground the only proof anyone was in the alley in the first place.
Apparently, she was going to have to make another detour.