I know, I'm supposed to be on break, but have another chapter.
This is a sequel to The Spirit of Halloween.
In the darkness of his lair, Pitch Black turned the annoying piece of candy around between his fingers. He hated it. He hated it like he had never thought he could hate an inanimate object. How dare that arrogant little winter spirit just waltz in here and give him a Halloween treat like he was a child? Was he mocking him? Coming here to gloat?
Frustrated, he stalked out of his lair. Maybe he could find a child to scare. He may not have much power anymore, but he could still be the monster under their bed. It was a big step down from swallowing all of the lights in his darkness and that grated, to the point that he did not even want to bother on most days. But right now he just wanted to hear the sweet music of a child's screams of terror.
His mood worsened considerably when he saw the blanket of pristine snow covering the ground and giving his twisted metal bed frame the look of something from a peaceful Christmas card. He started to brush the snow of the black metal with angry movements. That thing had been hard enough to put together, he was not going to let the Guardian ruin it.
"Evening, Pitch."
Pitch's heart almost jumped out of his chest at the unexpected voice. He turned to glare at the Guardian of Fun. He was the one supposed to be scaring people, not this child. Jack Frost looked in a good mood, hovering between the trees with a cheerful smile on his face, his staff resting on his shoulder. He did not look worried in the slightest at being in the Boogeyman's presence. He had no reason to fear him. Pitch glared harder.
"What do you want, Frost."
"Nothing. Can't we just have a polite conversation anymore?"
There had been a time when they could. But that was years ago, when Frost had been much like him. A lonely spirit that no one could see. They may not have been friends, but neither were they enemies. Until he became a Guardian, that is. They had nothing in common anymore.
"No."
The Spirit of Winter threw him a disappointed look and landed in a crouch on the headboard of his bed. Pitch almost expected the whole thing to collapse. But Frost was as good as usual at staying on objects that should not be able to support any real weight.
"Oh, come on. Don't be like that. How about we make a snowman?"
"What do you want Frost. And get off my bed."
"I wanted to thank you."
"Thank me?" Was the child mocking him again? "Why?"
"I know you don't want to hear that, but I really owe everything I have to you. If you hadn't tried to destroy the Guardians, I wouldn't be one of them, now. I would not have anyone who believed in me. Even your petty attempts at revenge since then did more good than harm in the end."
If he could, Pitch would have killed him. He should have done that long ago.
"So that's why you're here? To rub salt in the wound? And you say I'm the petty one."
Jack's words on Halloween came back to him unbidden. "Because you always did believe in me." He pushed them away. The other spirit sighed.
"No, that's not why I'm here. Look, I get it, you hate me. I can't say that I blame you. But I don't hate you. Not anymore. Eternity is too long to keep hating someone."
"So you're just going to forgive and forget?" he asked in disbelief. He despised the small part of himself that felt glad that there was one person who didn't hate him. He hated Jack even more for making him feel that way.
"No. I won't forget. But I'll forgive."
Pitch stared at the kid for a long moment. Then, he shrugged, pretending it meant nothing to him. It shouldn't mean anything to him. He hated this boy and his opinion was irrelevant. He had to remind himself of how much he hated Jack Frost. And he hated himself for that.
"Very well. If you want to be an idiot, I won't stop you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have better thing to do than chat with the likes of you."
He melted back into the shadow of his lair, his earlier plans forgotten. He just wanted to be away from the young Guardian. He needed to leave before Jack Frost said something else he did not want to hear. Against his will, his fingers closed around the familiar snowflake-shaped candy. He chucked it across the room.
It's possible that I'll be able to keep updating during the week-ends, but I make no promises. But so far I'm having no problem meeting my word count everyday, so I have some free time to write other stuff. I've been meaning to do this chapter for a long time now. Since the You Will Fear Me arc, actually. I think there's some stuff that has been on my list of things to write for even longer (like that "blizzard of '68" story I've been meaning to do from the start).
