Chapter Four: The Therapeutic Power of Ice Cream

[Jeanette's POV:]

My heart was pounding, and my mind was going several miles a minute as I gently pushed the door a little further in, straining my ears for any sounds of my intruder. Glancing in, there appeared to be no harm done: the living room was perfectly intact, the door showed no signs of forced entry, and I could hear music playing softly from further in, possibly the kitchen. Still, I wasn't taking chances that this trespasser was as much of a gentleman as Mr. Pendragon, and I opened the coat closet door as I shut the front one, pulling out a metal baseball bat I kept for safety reasons. I'm not a paranoid person, (or at the very least I wouldn't consider having been one before yesterday,) but I've got an uncle in the Navy who gave me the bat as a present when I told him I hated reading horror novels.
Lo! Fail me not, thou faithful club!
I tried to adjust the bat in my grip as I stepped carefully into the living room, but I had no way of knowing if I was holding it correctly, so I gave up trying. Again, there was no one I could see, and no sign of the place being ransacked. A shiver started to run up my spine and I swallowed as quietly as I could over the knot in my throat. This wasn't too different from a scene in one of my aforementioned horror novels, and I decided in this case I would rather not live in a book.
The hair on the back of my neck raised, like I was being watched, and I spun to look at my staircase, finding someone there.
He was relatively tall and so thin I thought for a second he might be anorexic. He wore a skin-tight gray suit that covered him, nearly head to toe, underneath a red cloak and mantle, with a belt around his thin waist. His mask was gray also, with a black diamond dead-center over his forehead, black ears and markings around his eyes, which were all of him I could really see, two soft-brown orbs that stared at me coldly.
"Ahh, you're home." he said in a strange, husky accent I couldn't identify, talking like I was a roommate just getting back to the dorm. He hefted one of my books up for me to see. "You might want to consider straightening your bedroom up. It's disgusting, really. A woman who can be so neurotically nitpicky about how clean her townhouse is doesn't care if she leaves her most precious treasures just lying about in her filthy bedroom? And here I always heard yours was the cleverer of the sexes."
I'm not sure what it was; seeing my house broken into, finding a criminal from Arkham on my staircase, or hearing him insult me—though I believe it might have been all three—but I opened my mouth, screaming in rage, and charged at him, his eyes opening wide behind his mask. Suddenly the bat didn't feel like a heavy, awkward club any more, but more of an extension of my arms as I swung, catching him on his side and sending him sprawling on the staircase. He growled in pain, and I swung again, but this time he got out of the way, and the bat connected with the empty stairs, sending reverberating shudders through my arms. I glanced up, finding him already near the top of the stairs, and I stomped up after him, lugging the bat along.
"You are DEAD, you villainous dog!" I roared at his retreating cloak as he dove into my room, "By my head, thou shalt be slain or this isn't the countenance of Jeanette Marie Harker!"
Um, yes, the Shakespeare-inspired threats? Those come naturally for me.
I charged into my room, and nearly fell over in shock.
It was clean.
Perfectly clean and virtually spotless, with all of my books beautifully catalogued and carefully set in place on each shelf.
"Oh, that tears it! You are so dead…" I growled. NOBODY touches my books except me! The guy stared at me, pressed his thumbs together, and—I could scarcely believe what I was witnessing, began to rise off the floor until the top of his head brushed the ceiling.
"Not if you can't reach me," he answered smugly, folding his legs like he was meditating.
Idiot!
I ran over and yanked hard on one of the tasseled sides of his cloak, and he almost came completely back down to the floor with an astonished yelp. I hoisted the bat above my head, ready for a swing—
And the black diamond in the middle of his mask opened to reveal a third eye.
A sharp, stabbing pain erupted in my head, making me cry out in pain. It felt like someone was trying to carve my brain right out of my head. A second later, it stopped, and I blinked, fighting back tears.
I'd been rescued, much to my surprise, by the appearance of a young man with violently red hair and pale skin, wearing a white tank top and dark blue jeans. I knew that face; I could pick out my cousin anywhere in a crowd.
"Jeannie!" he squeaked, looking horrified. "What are ye doin' home so soon?"
"What am—what am I?—I should be asking you the questions, Jesse! What in the name of Jane Austen are you doing in my house? And who the hell is—"
"FANTASIA!" the man roared, his third eye disappearing as though it never were, "Get her away from me! She's a crazy bitch!"
What…the…hell?
"SPELLY!" Jesse roared back, charging over and seizing the man by the front of his mantle, "DONNAE TALK ABOOT ME COUSIN THA' WAY!"
'Spelly?' What kind of name was 'Spelly?' But he looked familiar…
Suddenly I remembered seeing a headline in the local newspaper not too long ago, featuring an insane hypnotist named Spellbinder. He hadn't really been in the news since, but his picture made the paper when it was revealed he had tried to steal a legendary gemstone from the BCC auction. Since then he was said to have been locked up in Arkham.
As for Jesse, he's my cousin from Scotland. His mother and my father were brother and sister, but I've not seen nor heard from my dad in years, so I'm not sure why Jesse's family had remained in Scotland while mine had lived in the States. I also knew that a while ago Jesse had been touring with the Zataras, the father-daughter magic show that travels worldwide, because Giovanni Zatara had offered Jesse a very rewarding career as a magician. But three years ago, for reasons he still refused to tell anyone, Jesse had left the show and wasn't speaking with the Zataras. I'd seen him a great deal since, but over the past month or so, he'd stopped coming around.
And now…
"YOU BROUGHT AN INSANE CRIMINAL INTO MY HOUSE, JESSE?" I screamed. Oh, this day was just getting better and better!
"Jeannie," he said in his soft, soothing voice, reaching up and plucking the bat from my hands, "Ye need tae calm yeself down."
"NO! I AM NOT GOING TO BE CALM! YOU GET HIM OUT OF HERE! I'VE GOT ENOUGH PROBLEMS ALREADY!" I snapped, jabbing a finger into my cousin's chest.
"I cannae leave him by his lonesome, wot," Jesse said calmly, "I be owin' him a life debt."
"A what?" I spluttered helplessly, feeling tears at the back of my eyes. I was just ready for this day to be over.
"Relax, Jeannie," Jesse sighed again. "Ye need tae be gettin' some rest, aye, but I'll be explainin' e'erythin' tae ye o'er a cup o' coffee."
"Coffee sounds amazing," I moaned pitifully, giving in. Jesse could protect us plenty against the likes of Spellbinder. Then I thought about the coffee and remembered that I had arranged to meet Mr. Pendragon on Wednesday and groaned in exasperation.
"Hmph," I heard Spellbinder growl, "With the way she carries on, you'd think being a librarian was a high-stress job."
He was so lucky I was too tired to turn around and clock him in his third eye.

Few people can work magic in the kitchen like my younger cousin Jesse.
For one thing, he's a magician. Magic is a given there.
For another, I taught him to cook, and I would assume with all the traveling he did with Zatara, he picked up a few extra things here and there. And the kid makes a butt-kicking good cup of hazelnut coffee. He set an enormous, steaming mug down in front of me—really it was more like a tankard—and started to add sugar and milk to it. I tried to protest when he took away the sugar, but when Jesse blinks his large brown eyes at you, you usually have a really hard time arguing with him afterward.
And the kid wonders why women practically throw themselves at him when he walks by.
"Ye donnae need tae be givin' yeself a rush ye'll be regrettin' in an ahr." he scolded me gently, handing the sugar bowl over to Spellbinder.
"When I said I wanted sugar, this isn't exactly what I had in mind," the hypnotist muttered darkly.
Wait, what?
I actually managed to look at him, ignoring Jesse working on my coffee. Did that three-eyed freak just say what I think he just said? No, there was no way that—
Ignore him, I told myself, pointedly looking back as my cousin started to stir the beverage, He's just trying to mess with you. He doesn't like the fact that you nearly handed his ass to him and he's angry with Jesse for stepping in and defending me. Just ignore him.
"You have a problem me, Jeanette?" Spellbinder asked me, his mask shifting slightly, like he was raising an eyebrow.
"Gee, you only broke into my house, went through my things, and threatened me. Why in the world would I have a problem with you, do you think?" I asked in mock surprise, lacing every word with equal sarcasm. Did that extra eye actually impair his vision or something? I would have thought my dislike was painfully obvious, even to a blind poet or something. Homer would definitely be able to see it. I snorted.
"A-actually, ye did leave me a spare key, Jeannie," Jesse said sheepishly, sinking into his chair and avoiding my eye.
"Oh," I said, remembering when I'd first seen him back from the Zatara tour. He'd needed a place to stay for a while, and I'd given him the spare key to the townhouse so if he ever had to come back for a few days he could get in. At once I felt a little stupid, and took a sip of my coffee, hoping to stall for time.
"An' I was th' one tae fix up ye room also," Jesse added, his shoulders hiking up to his ears as his face when a brilliant pink, "I heard aboot what happened tae ye yesterday, an' I was hopin' tae surprise ye a little when ye came home, try tae make ye feel better."
Now I felt really stupid.
It would be just like Jesse to do something as thoughtful as that.
"An' Spelly was goin' tae find a cookbook for me when ye found him," he added, then glared pointedly at the ex-monk, "Though I be takin' no fault fer his stupid mouth."
"Watch it, Scot." Spellbinder shot back. "You owe me."
"Now that you bring it up again," I interjected, "What exactly do you owe this freak, Jesse, and why?"
My cousin blinked at me a moment, then sighed.
"Ye remember hearin' how the Joker an' a few others escaped from Arkham no' long ago, aye?" he asked, and I shuddered, nodding. Oh, I knew that only too well now.
"Then ye also ken how they found the Penguin sayin' he was bein' controlled by vampires? Well, aboot tha' time I was on a job, an' I happened tae run intae Firefly. Heard o' him?"
"Yeah…" I said uneasily. I already didn't like where this was going.
"Seems he though' I was comin' tae muscle in on his action. Still got nary a clue what he was up tae, but he turned on me. Coulda handled meself, but then I had an attack, an' collapsed." He said in a soft voice, and I winced in sympathy. Both Jesse and I have very mild forms of sickle-cell anemia, but when Jesse suffers an attack, he ends up in severe pain to the point of borderline paralysis. He continued, "An' it was round aboot tha' time when Spelly here—" he motioned toward the hypnotist, "—showed up. He an' Firefly'd been havin' a bit o' bad blood between them, so he hypnotized him when he saw his chance. He didn't even ken he'd saved me life until I thanked him for it. So now I owe him a life debt."
Oh, man! I groaned and looked between them.
"Jesse Orion Macallister," I said slowly, and he flinched the way he always does when someone says his full name, "You are one of the most thick-headed men I've ever had the misfortune to be related to! How could you just let yourself end up owing this…this…freak your life?"
"I didnae mean tae…" he said, his face going a few shades lighter than his hair as he stared down into his coffee.
"UGH! And I thought I was having problems!" I groaned, smacking a hand to my forehead and slumping in my chair.
"You are aware that the 'freak' has perfectly able, working ears and can hear you talking about him as though he's not here." Spellbinder said coldly to my right.
"Yes, well," I snapped, glaring at him, "Take note that I don't really care."
"You'd best watch yourself, Miss Harker," he sneered, "Or the Joker won't be the only one out for your blood."
I froze. How did he…?
"Khalama!" Jesse yelled suddenly, his face darkening. For a moment I wondered what in the heck that could mean, and then I saw Spellbinder jump as though shot at. "That'll be enough! Leave me cousin be!"
Spellbinder settled back in his seat glaring darkly, but said gently, "As you wish, Fantasia."
"And why do you keep calling him that?" I demanded.
"Me stage name." Jesse answered evasively.
I could only groan and swing my legs over the arm of my chair. Today was just as overwhelming and stressful as yesterday, (well, maybe not nearly as stressful,) and I needed something to take my mind off it.
"Aye, ye be lookin' harried, ye are," Jesse remarked.
"You think?" I snorted.
"Ice cream." He said abruptly.
"W-what?"
"Ye need ice cream," he declared. Oh, thank God! I started to get up but he waved me to sit back down in my seat, "Neh, neh. Ye stay righ' there."
"But I don't have any—"
"I brought some." Jesse answered as he stepped into the kitchen, and Spellbinder gave a loud, false cough. "Ach, ahright then, Spelly and I brought some."
"That's more like it." The ex-monk snapped. Shortly Jesse returned, three bowls of ice cream and spoons in tow.
"Here we be," he declared brightly, setting a bowl down in front of me.
"What's the flavor?" I asked warily. It wasn't that I didn't trust my own cousin, but rather that I knew he had unusual tastes sometimes. Oddly, it was Spellbinder who answered.
"Coldstone's Mint Dark Chocolate. Nothing better."
I shot him a glare, daring him to be lying, and he shrugged back at me, digging into his ice cream. It was rather surprising he managed to eat it at all, considering how high his scarf sat. I steeled myself, ready for anything…and found it was actually just that. The ice cream was a perfect dark chocolate with a minty aftertaste. I loved it instantly and started to fall on it.
"Feel better?" Jesse asked, raising an eyebrow.
"A little," I answered between bites.
"And the ice cream?" he grinned, and I smiled back.
"It's helping."