iCarly: iMeet the Relatives, Chapter 12: Best Behavior
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(Insert standard disclaimer here.)
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Chapter 12: Best Behavior
Grif came back into the living room before Jillian finished laughing. He saw her mirth, and glanced at Carly, who only shrugged. "I just spoke with Uncle Jemiah. He wants to meet with us at Chez Lounge…and we gotta bring Jillian, here."
Jillian finally got herself under control. "So much for angel promises. You said you weren't gonna turn me over-*"
"I'm not turning you over. He just wants to ask you a few questions. That's not 'turning you over.' In fact, I'm supposed to keep you with me, sort of. You're…." and here he swallowed, audibly, "….a guest here." Before she could say anything, he raised a finger. "Do not abuse that relationship. None of your usual tricks."
"You don't even know what my usual tricks are."
"I can make a pretty good guess. Don't do 'em. Now, come on." With a thought, he clothed himself in his tuxedo, presumably the same one as last time. (Did angels only have one tux?—Carly wondered.)
"Uh, Grif? If we're going to Chez Lounge…" Carly gestured to her clothes. Last time, Griffin's Aunt Maggie had transformed her clothes into a formal evening gown. Maggie wasn't here now.
"Oh, right." He looked at her, frowning in concentration. "Thing is, I'm not sure I know that much about women's fashion. Let's see…" He passed his hand over her, and the molecules of her clothes danced to his mind's tune.
Carly was attired in a loosely draped white evening dress, with elbow length gloves made of the same substance, a strand of pearls around her neck, matching pearl earrings.
Jillian rolled her eyes. "You aren't serious, are you?"
He turned to the demon girl. "I guess you think you could do better?"
"I couldn't do worse. But you said, none of my usual tricks, so…."
Grif turned to Carly. "Carly, what do you think? Is this good?"
"Grif, I'm more of a 'McDonald's' type person. I don't know the first thing about what sort of clothes one wears to these sorts of places, but this….this feels good. It's…comfortable…" In the back of her mind, she found herself wishing for some of Maggie's fashion sense. The gown Maggie had magicked up for her last time had been identical with evening dresses costing a year's payment on a house.
Jillian cleared her throat. "Since you did pull me out of the Darkness, I suppose I could put in my, as the saying goes, two cents' worth. If you'll permit, your high and mightiness angel, I mean."
Grif was obviously getting fed up with Jillian's attitude, but he gestured: go ahead. And all of a sudden, Carly was engulfed in flames.
Flames that did not burn her, but in less than an eyeblink rearranged her clothes' molecules yet again. This time, she found herself in a red silk evening dress, form-fitting enough to display her figure to the maximum degree, also with matching gloves, and matching shoes with stiletto heels that felt like they had to be at least three inches tall. Her hair was perfectly rearranged into a shoulder-length coif that showcased the pearl earrings in her ears to best effect. The gown was low cut, but not so low as to be uncomfortable. "Oh, wait. I forgot." And Carly felt a most peculiar sensation as Jillian conjured her some underwear underneath her dress. "Though some would go without, I guess certain people," and here she glanced pointedly at Grif, "would have a cow if you didn't." She turned to Grif. "You're welcome."
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Chez Lounge: the doorman let them through without the same level of scrutiny as last time, though his eyes did linger on Jillian a moment. Carly wondered if the doorman was human or angel.
The Gold Room: Jemiah was waiting for them. Carly had time to wonder if Uncle Jemiah conducted most of his business—whatever it was—from this room, or if this was just neutral ground. Or both.
Jemiah nodded to Jillian. "Jillian Adara. It has been a while."
"Not nearly long enough." Jillian didn't seem to be all that discomfited by Jemiah's gaze, though Carly noticed she didn't actually look Jemiah squarely in the face, the way she had them, back at Grif's apartment.
"Forty-seven years. I see the Black Throne took issue with your last escapade."
"They 'took issue' with my failure at my last escapade, as you call it. For which I can thank your precious angel Samael."
Jemiah gestured to them to their seats. Carly noticed he sat Jillian down right next to him. She couldn't tell if that made the demon girl any more uncomfortable than she already was. "Indeed you can. He was commended for that. But that is a past matter. What of this issue with the Darkness?" Jillian repeated her story to Jemiah. "And have your superiors been informed of this occurrence?"
"Not by me. I haven't had the chance to."
"You will be permitted to do so. Now." The waiter, the same one as last time, served them, again what appeared to be a kind of quiche.
Jillian's eyes widened a bit as she looked at her food. "Hey, I didn't know you could do that!"
"Do what?" Carly whispered to Grif.
"Don't know how, but they baked emotions into the quiche. Both our sorts of beings require more than a physical substance for what I suppose you'd call proper nourishment."
Carly looked at her own share. "You mean…this has emotions in the mix?"
"No, not your share. Nor mine. Just Jillian's." Carly noted that the demon girl had fallen on the plate and was busily devouring it with obvious hunger. The demon girl kept casting glances at Jemiah, though, and Carly didn't need telepathy to figure out what was going on inside her head: these angels were being awfully civilized to her; why?
"Nephew? What have you gleaned from your experiences with the Darkness?"
Grif shifted a bit. "I honestly haven't been able to find out as much as I would have liked, uncle. My first foray brought me face to face with some sort of creature unlike anything in my experience. Then, the incident at Mt. Adams. Now, this. I can only guess that the Darkness is somehow…I don't want to say expanding, but certainly reacting in some way, sending out tendrils of itself, shoots, perhaps, to use an analogy. This would seem to strengthen the notion that it is alive."
"Wait." Jillian looked up from her food. Carly thought she seemed awfully hungry. "What are you talking about?"
To Carly's surprise, Grif answered her quite frankly, without any attempt at secrecy. She guessed it wasn't on any "classified" list anywhere. "I have recently begun journeying into the Darkness in an effort to recover those souls trapped there, who can be salvaged. So far, I haven't encountered any."
Jillian's illusory eyes bugged out. "You…are actually deliberately going down into the Darkness? For what?"
"I told you," he answered calmly, "to try and save those souls who can be saved."
Jillian leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms in front of her chest, shaking her head. "Must be an angel thing. Nobody's called you 'insane,' yet?"
"No…"
"Let me be the first. You're insane." She turned her attention to Carly. "Is it possible for an angel to be insane?"
Jemiah broke in. "This is scarcely the time for such diagnoses. Nephew, you will see to the disposition of your…guest here, while I initiate contact with my opposite number in Hell. See to her needs…but you are responsible for her behavior." Grif looked like he was about to say something, but Jemiah silenced him with a glance. "This could easily be a matter of equal concern to both our people's. While it has long been thought that we have nothing in common, that may no longer be the case. Until then, you will be responsible for her. Am I clear?"
"Yeah, Grif," said Jillian, finishing up her quiche, "is he clear?" Her grin was pure malice.
"It…is clear, Uncle Jemiah. I am, and remain, obedient."
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Back at Grif's small apartment, he explained his house rules to her. "No tricks, no using your powers for mischief. And you will. Not. Target any of my friends. And leave the rats and the cat alone."
"Rats? You have rats living here? And a cat, too?"
"Yes. They get along nicely."
Jillian stared at him a moment longer, then shook her head in disgust. "I'll never understand you angels. Here, you've a perfect opportunity for some conflict, some bloodshed, some lovely emotions, both positive and negative, yet you prohibit it totally. And for what? What do you get out of it?"
"A quiet, peaceful place to live, one I find conducive to a being like myself. Which is exactly the way I want it."
"Boh Ring. But you do know, I have to eat, too, right? So what am I supposed to do, if I can't browse the buffet out there?" She nodded her head towards the window.
"I'll bring you food. No predation. Got it?"
"And if I don't?"
He stood over her, seated, as she was, back on his sofa. Carly looked on from the kitchenette, curious to see how this matter was going down, and trying to follow the conversation. "Think about it. As far as the Black Throne is concerned, you deserted your post, and showed up here, in a realm you're specifically prohibited from being in. What do you suppose their reaction will be?" Jillian was silent, eyes downcast. "You need our corroboration, our verification, that this was not your fault. You need my verification. I'd think it would be in your interests to cooperate."
Jillian thought longer. Then, "okay. I see what you mean. You've got me over a barrel here. They didn't want to hear my reasons way back then, they sure wouldn't now." She suppressed a shudder. There were worse jobs than lava field guard.
"Alright. Now, I have to go run some errands, and then, hopefully, Uncle Jemiah will have contacted your people to come take you off my hands. Until then, be on your best behavior." He looked towards Carly. "Are you ready, Carly?"
"Yeah, Grif. I've made a list of some things we'll need. Say. That reminds me: does Jillian have, like, any special dietary problems?"
"Nothing a supermarket can fix. I'll get something from my uncle's people. But let me first check some things of my own…." He moved off into the bedroom of the apartment, checking.
Carly found herself standing beside the demon. "Anything we can get for you? I mean, anything, y'know, normal that we can get for you?"
"You're definition of 'normal' and mine aren't the same. But I sense what you're asking, and no, there's really not." Her hand crept to her belt. "Haven't eaten that good in a while."
Carly sat, very tentatively, down beside her, keeping as far away as possible. "They don't feed you back home?"
"Grief, no. Didn't he tell you about what we eat?"
"He said you feed on emotions, on feelings."
"That's right. Most demons have their own collection of souls they can tap for sustenance. But I got demoted, all those years ago, and I'm not allowed to have a collection. So I had to make do with the Uncollected souls in the lava. I…guess it…kept me going."
"I noticed you seemed awfully hungry, back there."
"I've been living on the equivalent of scraps all these years. What I suppose you'd find analogous to living out of dumpsters." She shrugged, once again, leaning her head against her hand, resting on the sofa's arm. "It kept me going. But you try that for a few decades and see if that doesn't make you really appreciate a good, hot meal." Her face took on a faint pitiful look. "And I was that close to having my first soul."
Quite against her will, Carly found herself sympathizing with the demon girl. Living out of dumpsters? "Grif?" He'd come back into the room.
Before she could say anything more, he raised a finger. "Don't start feeling sorry for her, Carly. She'll eat that up. Literally."
"Killjoy."
"You bet. Carly? Are you read-*" Just at that exact moment, Grif's doorbell rang. Crossing over, he was surprised to see Sam, Freddie, and Spencer just outside. "Hey, Grif! Is Carly here?"
"Oh, yeah, Sam, she's here." He'd already changed Carly's clothes back to her usual garb.
"Hey, good. We tried calling, but didn't get any answer." He stepped back from the door, allowing them to come in. "Hey, Brune! Where've you been?"
Carly hugged her friend. "Just here and there. Sorry we didn't get your call…I think my cell might be on the blink. Again."
"Well, we were all going bowling. Wanna come?"
"Uh…" She looked at Grif for guidance. Was this a good time? After all, he had an actual demon from Hell living under his roof, however temporarily.
A demon who'd gotten up and joined the group at the entrance. She was still wearing her two-piece red tunic and pants, with the belt and boots seemingly made of black leather. It actually looked rather striking on her. She still had her arms crossed in front of her chest, defensively, it seemed to Carly…but she was eyeing Spencer... "My, my. Carly, you didn't tell me you had such a cute brother."
Carly immediately felt herself beginning to perspire.
To be continued….
