Chapter: 16
Livia's heart pounded in her chest, the chill of the room only increasing the sensation of panic and fear coupled with fury. How could Léa be there? How could she have been summoned? Livia was specific with her request, with her intention. Léa shouldn't have been able to hijack the séance like this, especially not if Markus was still manifesting in the Astral Plane. It shouldn't be possible and yet there Léa was, her yellow-green Baudelaire eyes shining in the darkness of the room…the light snores of the fellow sleepover goers was mere white noise in the background of the storm rattling through Livia's mind. There was the chance that Léa was able to manifest because she was a Baudelaire, she could have twisted the intention to suit her needs, or perhaps Livia's intention wasn't as clear cut as she thought…she thought she needed Markus, but what if somehow—in some messed up and terrible way—Livia really needed Léa Baudelaire.
Livia wanted answers…she wanted to understand the consequences of merging with Klarion aside from becoming the new Embodiment of Chaos, and the additional new powers that Livia had barely scraped the surface of utilizing, but knew should exist. Léa wanted to stop the ritual, wanted to kill both Livia and Klarion in one swoop, ending not only the Baudelaire line but the curse all at once…and she'd wanted to do it for a reason. Livia never truly stopped to consider that reason…she wanted to live and live curse free, that was all that mattered at the time but now Livia wasn't so sure. Now, with the lost time…the mysterious deaths…the sensation of another presence no matter how faint, an essence around her, Livia wasn't sure what to make of it or what to do about it. But Léa might.
A more fearful side of Livia remembered that Léa killed her. The witch had stopped her heart using captured souls of Baudelaire witches in her prison world to do it, to stop the ritual in its tracks. She tried to trap Livia there…and she might be the reason Markus was gone. Destroyed, phased out, unable to manifest on the Astral Plane or the Physical Plane. The childish part also pushed through…wishing to hide away. Livia wanted more than anything to deny Léa her time and dispel the summoning. But there was always a method to her madness with Léa, she was a mad witch. Driven insane most likely by the death of her children at the hands of the Baudelaire curse. Though equally driven to create the prison world and trap Baudelaire descendants to accumulate power. The question now was how much power and what could she do with it.
It made no sense for her to appear at a summoning, she wasn't like other ghosts or spirits and the prison world wasn't within the Astral Plane…it was different. Something else and it frightened Livia to know that the amount of power needed to create such a world was once at Léa's fingertips. Livia didn't know what happened in the aftermath of Markus's stand against the mad witch, but there was no way Léa could still have such significant power after the trapped ghosts turned on her once Markus appeared to help Livia escape. There was more…there had to be more. Léa was vying for something or would be. Livia should dispel the summoning, she knew she should do it…but all the same, there was much Léa needed to answer for and so much that Livia still didn't know. With that and a harsh swallow, Livia found her voice,
"You weren't summoned. Leave," Livia barked, her voice harsh and brittle as the planchette clattered to the ground, slipping from numb fingers. Léa merely smirked, her stare intense. The mad witch still wore a black mourning dress, the black lace veil pulled back to reveal her face. It looked more haggard than in the Pavilion, less life-like. Wrinkled, sagging, and at certain moments, at certain angles, skeletal features jumped out as if appearing through a hazy mirage. As if the accumulation of the trapped Baudelaires' magic was fading…or Léa was too far from the Pavilion and the strength of the connection was what kept Léa's appearance in check. Livia hoped it was the former, Livia didn't think she could take it if her father sacrificed his own strength to save her for nothing,
"You have no talent for necromancy, nor divination and you're certainly no medium or seer. You don't understand how this magic works," the witch crooned, "It can be unpredictable—as ironic as that seems seeing as it can involve the future—and even the slightest misstep or misthought can lead to catastrophe. Or, in this case, can lead to any old spirit slipping through. Be grateful it was me and not something…nastier…with so many innocent children here it wouldn't have been an easy coverup,"
"I'll pass on ever being grateful to you," Livia spat, "Is there a purpose to you being here? Or are you here to try and kill me again?"
"I haven't got the strength to try that again thanks to you," Léa snapped, "And even if I did have the power, I wouldn't be able to. You've merged with that demon, and he won't let you go so easily,"
"Yeah, you're looking, ah, a little paper thin there Léa," Livia mused with a grin, crossing her arms, "And you know I could still dispel this summoning. I don't have to keep you here,"
"And yet you've done nothing," Léa's smirk turned sharp, "You sense the need for guidance and turn to your ancestors for help,"
"I turned to my father for help and got you instead,"
"You got what you needed. Let's not ignore that fact,"
"Fine. Why did you want to kill me and Klarion in the middle of the ritual? You could have killed me at any time before then, why wait?"
"Ah ah ah, that's not how this works. Especially not when done improperly. You think you control this séance, think again girl. You get what you want only when you give me what I want,"
"I'll humor you, just for now. What do you want?" Livia questioned, a growl in her tone. She was getting frustrated, but she couldn't waver, or she could lose complete control. Livia's magic was what enacted the summoning, Léa just took advantage of a poorly done séance and rode the coattails of the magic Livia used…her anger could fuel the wrong part of the summoning giving magical strength to the entity—Léa—that arrived instead of the protection circle, especially if she'd done the summoning so incorrectly,
"Power," Léa hissed, "You took what was mine. I want it back. I can only help you so long as I'm able to manifest. With so many of my…inhabitants…gone I'm weaker,"
"It's not my fault you limited your prison world to only Baudelaire witches," Livia stated snidely, "And I won't feed you innocent Homo Magi or magic users. I can't give you that much magical energy, even if I'm the Embodiment of Chaos. You made your bed, now lie in it,"
"There's a spell in our family's grimoire…a fairly simple one, even a self-taught witch like yourself couldn't possibly screw it up. Perform the spell and the information is yours. I'll even spare you the time of a second summoning and give you what you want on credit…so long as you swear you'll do as I asked," Livia frowned, she could sense a sinister glee emitting from Léa…a kind of pleased giddiness as if waiting for some poor fool to stumble into a prank or a trick. It could just be that the mere thought of more power had Léa salivating like a dog, or it could be something…more,
"What's the catch?" Livia demanded, "What aren't you telling me about the spell,"
"Oh…nothing much. It does require an Anchor for activation. But I know you have one of those, or rather, someone to play that part,"
"No. You leave D-the Anchor out of this," Livia snapped, stumbling slightly over her words, mentally cursing herself for nearly saying Darren's name. Names have power, especially in the magical world, she wished she had considered that when trapped in the Pavilion. Hopefully, Léa's memory was just as twisted as her sanity,
"You really think you can hog him? Keep him hidden from our kind? He has one foot in life and the other in death, one foot in normality the other a little bit in our world…in the mystical. Others will come for him and his usefulness…and if a little voice on the wind or in the back of someone's mind speeds that process up, well you'd have no one to blame but yourself. I'm sure your little Anchor already has his hands full," it was a bluff…it had to be a bluff. If Léa was asking for magical power there was no way she could influence anyone to come after Darren…but all the same Livia couldn't risk it nor could she involve Darren,
"Fine. I'll help you find a way to get more magic, but only and only if you answer my questions and don't meddle. No influencing, no implanting ideas or thoughts or anything that endangers those I love. Deal?" Léa scowled but gave a curt nod,
"Fine."
"I'm waiting," Livia said after a pregnant pause, "You need to fulfill your end of this bargain before I even consider giving you more power,"
"You ask why I waited for the ritual? What better way to end everything? Two minds, one body…it was the only time Klarion was even remotely human,"
"Two minds, one body?" Livia echoed uncertainly, "There aren't two minds…I'm in control,"
"Yes, you're in control. But that doesn't mean Klarion just ceased to exist. If that's not how nature works why wouldn't magic work the same way? What is the essence of something, someone, a demon, a god, if not their mind, body, and soul wrapped into one? Klarion was once exactly like you, a host of the Embodiment of Chaos. Demons or rather entities like Embodiments of Order or Chaos are powerful but limited without a human form. As a host Klarion was exceptionally powerful. Our ancestors took that power from him by stealing it, taking it into themselves…changing the makeup of host and Embodiment. The true host was destroyed, all that remained was the Embodiment of Chaos. They somehow disrupted the connection between the essence of the Embodiment and the essence of the host. They weakened him to the point that he was only physically present in the Dreamscape or in reality through a familiar,"
"If these…demons or entities were only so powerful when hosted by a human why would the Ancients create the merging ritual at all? Wouldn't they want to keep them weaker? Tied only to the Dreamscape? Away from harming humans?"
"Hmm, you'd think so. But power corrupts, the potential to become a powerful host was too much for any mere mortal…even the Ancient Ones. And even if greed were not the cause, the nature of the universe still needed to be brought into alignment…to balance. Corporal manifestations of both chaos and order still needed an outlet for control…so the merging ritual was created for that purpose—or for whatever purpose the Ancients truly wanted. Whether for order or power, it makes no difference—but the outcome was too severe. One individual with the powers of gods? That was dangerous. Our ancestors sought to prevent catastrophe while also taking more power for themselves. They thought dividing what they took amongst themselves would dampen the impact of the convergence spell used to steal Klarion's power…but they didn't think it would embed itself so deeply into our lineage nor did they account for Klarion's curse. Even weakened, forced into his original form, he was still strong enough to curse every Baudelaire down to you, the last of our line...the only one who can end it all,"
"If these entities can't truly be destroyed, how can I 'end it all?'" Livia asked, she couldn't help but feel skeptical…Léa had lied before. She had manipulated Livia before, all to kill her to somehow get revenge on Klarion. But by this logic killing Livia wouldn't destroy Klarion. She'd only be destroying herself in the process. It wasn't a solution, and it certainly didn't explain what was going on to Livia since the merging ritual. If she had the power of gods why couldn't she access it…why couldn't she feel it? There would have to be something, some difference that she could feel within herself to account for the change from mere witch to host of Chaos personified. Livia was feeling the frustration rising, Léa was just toying with her giving her scraps hoping for more power in return,
"Can't you? Like with everything this world has discovered, from alchemy to magic to the sciences known today…there are limits. Limits to what these entities can do, limits to even what gods can do. Find the limit and use it. The Ancients changed the nature of the corporeal beings embodying order and chaos creating the possibility of hosts and unleashing the powers of those merged essences, our ancestors changed that nature again to weaken Klarion. If either is possible, strengthening or weakening, why wouldn't destruction be possible?"
"How?" Livia demanded, "You're speaking in riddles. I asked for help, for answers," Léa looked unperturbed, she even smirked. A knowing wicked smirk,
"I tried to change the nature of the Embodiment of Chaos…you thwarted the attempt. I know of no other means to change the nature of Klarion further, especially now that you are merged as one. Our ancestors knew the spell to cleave the host and the entity. But that knowledge was lost over the centuries," at that point, Léa let out a small laugh, pitched harshly, nearly girlish, and with a nearly unhinged vibrancy to it,
"Two minds, one body. The possibilities are quite endless with you. But my answer, my knowledge is the same Livia Baudelaire. You are not free of him yet,"
"That's not an answer!" Livia hissed,
"I've given you what I've chosen to give. You'll hear nothing from me on this unless you give me the power I bargained for,"
"No. I summoned you here—,"
"—No! You summoned Markus, not me. I am not bound to your spell. I told you what I thought was useful, what I know as fact. You'll get nothing more until I get what I'm owed. Wonder about your mysterious blackouts, wonder about the murders following you, dogging your every move. I will wait here, in the Astral Plane…at the Pavilion…until you are aching and desperate for peace and sanity…willing to give me anything I want to end that demon's torment," even as the evil witch spoke, the edges of her spectral figure were starting fade, disappearing like the Cheshire cat from Alice in Wonderland, piece by piece, feature by feature,
"That's not how this works!" cried Livia, surging forward only to stumble to a stop, not wanting to cross the circle placed upon the ground. Livia couldn't break the circle, nor did she want to endanger the still-slumbering sleepover goers. Livia could only watch, unsure of how to call Léa back…to demand her answers. There was nothing in her Grimoire about this or how to manage a defiant spirit,
"As I said, you're no medium or seer. And you'll certainly face the consequences for dabbling in things you don't understand." Léa murmured intensely, a gleeful look on her face mixed with contempt and hatred. The witch's resounding laugh echoed harshly in the room as the remainder of her spirit vanished. Leaving Livia standing in the icy cold room surrounded by unconscious girls.
With a sigh Livia waved a hand, extinguishing the lit candles, and muttered the words for closing the protection spell before cleaning up the salt circle. Then exhausted, spent, and more than confused about what Léa had told her, whether she could trust the witch, Livia stumbled over to the bed and collapsed on top of the covers, soundly asleep before she could even process all that happened.
"Tim, I literally don't have the bandwidth to even remotely think about calculus right now," Livia groaned, rubbing at her temples as they hurried through the hallways of Gotham Academy. Not only had her dreams been plagued by nightmares since her encounter with Léa, some were of the Pavilion, others…were not as clear or comprehensive as her usual dreams…but her head ached like it was trying to crack open from the pressure that mounted every hour. Perhaps not quite so precise, but it felt worse and worse as time went on. Her vision also felt off…as if she were trying to wear another person's glasses and occasionally it would appear as if a shadow was darting across her vision, or a silhouette was standing just at or outside her peripheral vision. She kept glancing around, over her shoulder, expecting to see someone or one of her friends standing there only to see nothing. It was odd…not necessarily concerning…but was certainly veering in that direction. Everything felt wrong as if shifted slightly—by mere degrees— in one direction. Livia could maneuver through every day normally but would bump into imaginary corners more and more often throughout the day.
Livia and Tim were in the same math class, and they had a huge test that day…next period in fact. So of course, Tim was stressed even though he could probably recite the textbook cover to cover in his sleep and speed walked through the halls mumbling out numbers and equations. Livia had no energy whatsoever and could not stress. She couldn't even think about it. She'd studied for the exam, of course, she prepared, but she couldn't ignore the mounting throbbing in her head—right behind her eyes. There was no explanation for the headache, Livia had drunk a shit ton of water, eaten well that day, had a generous amount of sleep especially now that her lessons with Constantine were on hold indefinitely as they were both too stubborn to move past their hurt feelings, and she wasn't on her period. The headache made no sense and grew stronger with each step Livia took. So much so that Livia let out a muffled groan, slumping against the nearest wall rubbing the palms of her hands harshly against her eyes,
"Livy, are you okay?" Tim asked, stopping alongside her,
"Yeah, ugh…I just have this massive headache," Livia groaned, taking in a sharp breath, and letting it out slowly as she released her head. Glancing up she saw a glimpse of something dart out of view…Livia jerked her gaze in the direction of the—image—but couldn't find it against the sea of students, she couldn't figure out the shape of what she saw or if it was just an issue with the blind spot of the eye. Everyone had one, a literal spot of blackness that their brains just ignored to allow for smoother vision transition, but Livia didn't think that was what she was dealing with. It didn't feel right. Gooseflesh appeared on Livia's arms as a shiver ran up her spine,
"I don't know where Steph is, but I know she usually carries around some form of ibuprofen or Advil," Tim said,
"I think I've exceeded the maximum dose of pain medication possible for under six hours," Livia muttered, "but thank you…say, where is Steph?" she glanced around as if expecting her blonde friend to appear from around the corner,
"Uhh…," Tim sighed, shifting from foot to foot as he rubbed the back of his neck somewhat awkwardly, "We're…Steph and I are kind of taking a break,"
"Oh." Livia blinked, "I'm…I'm so sorry to hear that," if her headache wasn't so horrible, she would have wondered how that might interfere with their friend group dynamics…but Livia could barely think. Tim made a face,
"It's not like it hasn't happened before…but, this seems different," he stated, "But enough about that, I just wanted you to know so that no one was blindsided. When did the headache start?" Livia grimaced, thinking hurt…moving hurt…her vision kept flickering oddly but she pushed that aside to think,
"Uh…probably since that slumber party, so two days ago?"
"You've had this headache for two days?" Tim echoed incredulously,
"I've had period cramps that rival this," Livia monotoned, "but I will say none have reached the magnitude of the pain Richter scale that this headache has achieved," Tim didn't seem amused by her earthquake scale joke,
"The slumber party? The one where you held a séance…that one?" Livia merely nodded, though the effort sent piercing aches through her temples and her vision doubled, forcing Livia to jerk forward blinking rapidly to even her sight out again, "Livy, did something happen during the séance?" Livia froze, her mouth falling open to try and form some response when a different voice spoke up instead,
"There you two are! I've been looking everywhere for you guys!" Tim and Livia—still hunched over somewhat—turned to see Sal, his blue hair still fading out from the summer, maneuvering through the sea of students now hurrying to their classes. Tim and Livia were at risk of being late for their test…but Livia was in too much pain to really care,
"Sal," Tim and Livia unintentionally said in unison,
"What's up?" Tim, on his own, questioned,
"Yeah…uh…I was wondering about Darren…I guess?"
"What about Darren?" Tim questioned, slightly guarded. Livia felt a glimmer of amusement at Tim's protectiveness over Darren. Though she knew they all felt it for him and of course vice versa,
"Well…after the whole 'Derek Debacle' he said…uh…well he said we couldn't be friends…he told me to forget about him and that I couldn't be near him or I'd be killed? That if we weren't friends no one would hurt me? I mean, he can't be serious right? He's got to be fucking with me? I tried finding him to talk to about it but man he's a hard guy to track down…like I literally couldn't find him so I figured you guys are the next best bet," Tim and Livia shared an incredulous, and knowing, look before turning back to Sal,
"I…um…I wouldn't worry about that," Tim stated, "Darren's…a tough person to understand on a good day. He's probably totally pulling your leg. We'll, uh, get to the bottom of this. I'm sure he was just stressed out because of what happened with Derek,"
"Yeah, of course. Nothing bad will happen if you're friends," Livia replied, slightly distracted from the throbbing pain radiating through her skull, "I'm sure if you find him it'll all work out. And honestly don't hesitate to hang out with us if you want as well," Livia ignored the slight look Tim threw her, her own thoughts drifting elsewhere. Did Darren really think that? Did he actually think that if he were to befriend someone else, someone outside their little inner circle of friends, they would be targeted by his enemies? Even with the leverage, Darren had against the Court. Was it merely paranoia or something deeper, something almost engrained in how he interacted with people? The bigger question being was Darren meeting people who he could potentially be friends with only to continuously warn them off as he had with Sal,
"Okay…great, I guess? Well, I've got to head to class. I'll see you around," with that Sal turned and maneuvered his way through the thinning sea of students. And no sooner had Sal left did Darren appear, his expression stormy,
"What was he saying to you?" Darren demanded. Livia blinked, Tim frowned,
"Were you literally just waiting around the corner for Sal to leave?" Tim questioned,
"No…I was heading to class,"
"Bullshit," Tim and Livia monotoned in unison,
"I was…I'm sticking to my schedule now. Not that I really have a choice with everyone watching me like…like a hawk,"
"I doubt they're watching you that closely," Livia managed, gritting her teeth at the sudden rise in sharpness of her headache,
"Were you really telling Sal he'd die if you were friends?" Tim finally asked. Darren scowled,
"It's not an unreasonable thing to be concerned about,"
"You can have more than just us as friends Darren," Livia stated gently, "You don't need to only hang out with us." Perhaps it was a kind of Talon mindset…like being a year-mate was like being in a military unit. Darren furiously shook his head,
"It wouldn't be safe,"
"And it's so safe having us as friends?" Tim questioned, a teasing smirk quirking at his lips,
"You're trained in multiple fighting styles, you have magical powers, and you both know my secrets. In a situation of life or death, you are more likely to handle the threat, I wouldn't have to intervene or if I did it would be minimally. And you're less likely to blame me if anything happened because as I said, you both know my secrets," Tim and Livia shared a glance,
"What about Allison?" Livia wondered, quirking an eyebrow,
"If everyone thinks we hate each other, there's no real threat," Darren answered quickly and easily,
"Wow…okay, clearly you don't trust the blackmail we have in place," Tim said, a more pensive look on his face, "Why is that?"
"That's not it exactly," Darren replied, looking uncomfortable, "It's…it's more about what's needed to keep people around me safe,"
"You're not fighting the Owls anymore Darren. You don't need to constantly think like that,"
"Nothing lasts forever…and things are already changing. Stay out of this, I'll do what I need to do to keep anymore ammo from falling into the Court's or anyone else's hands; the less they have to use, the less I have to lose. I don't need any more friends and I certainly don't need any more people getting hurt because of who and what I am. And you both know if anyone knew the truth of what they were getting into, the truth to any degree about me, they'd stay away anyway on their own, so what's the point." With that, Darren spun on his heel and stormed down the now-empty hallway.
Tim and Livia stared after him, stunned…not quite clear on what to make of Darren's assumptions. He said it was to protect others, but Livia couldn't help but think it was also to protect himself. A lot had happened since Darren regained his freedom and the Court was pushed back into a corner, and Darren was right that it wasn't unreasonable to think that people around him would be in danger—but he was also wrong to shut himself out of other peoples' lives…to isolate himself because of what only might happen. It was a defense mechanism and one that everyone hoped exposure through Gotham Academy would ease. While it had only been a few months, Livia had hoped that things would have been better for Darren by now, especially when he brought Sal to their lunch table. Though clearly, it hasn't gotten to that point,
"Shit," Tim muttered with double meaning, as he reacted both to what Darren had said and at the realization they were still in the hall, only a small smatter of students still milling about, "We need to get to class," Livia nodded, turning to follow Tim as he started down the hall only to double over in pain her shoulder slamming into the nearby row of lockers with a resounding metallic crash. Tim stumbled to a stop, glancing back to Livia before hurrying over,
"Livy, what's wrong? What is this? This can't just be a normal headache," Tim stated seriously, placing a hand on her shoulder. Livia just shook her head her eyes still squeezed shut, the movement feeling painstakingly slow as if she were moving through honey. Everything seemed to echo, every sound, every movement had a resonance to it…a radiating energy. It was as if Livia was being split in two, her mind body, and soul.
The cry of pain Livia let loose sounded awful, it sounded scary and Livia wasn't sure what to do or what this was. Was it the curse? Did the ritual actually break it? Was she dying? With a stifled, panting, gasp, Livia opened her eyes only to balk in fear. She could see Tim, crouching with her as she slowly tumbled to the floor, but it wasn't the world she was seeing…this was something else. Something equally ethereal as it was hellish…the hallway—or rather Livia's vision—was tainted grey or the version of the world she was seeing was greyscale, void of any color—only Tim and other students that drifted by remained in color. Spidery cracks splintered the walls where there weren't any before. Debris and dust scattered on the ground and through the air. The layout of the school was wrong…there were openings, and hallways, where there weren't any in reality; rooms that were normally opened leading to classrooms were closed off by a gauzy-like substance; portraits and awards were missing and objects lay scattered about, glimmering silver as if an inverted filter was placed only upon those items. And all around, darting in and out of frame, were silhouettes…silvery otherworldly humanoid wraiths. Some looked like people…dressed from varying eras of time various features visible—some more clear than others—and some with injuries, missing eyes or limbs...wounds that looked suspiciously like bullet holes while others were missing arms or legs and had visible skull fractures. The faces looked off, not quite clear, though Livia was too freaked out to look so closely. And there were the voices…muttered whispers cascading over Livia's senses like rain. First a drizzle, then a downpour. Scattered voices, varying pitches, varying volume, cutting out and dropping in all at once, overlapping, interweaving with one another.
It was all too much; Livia squeezed her eyes shut willing her sight…her vision…to go back to normal as her headache worsened the pressure mounting with every achingly demanding whisper. Tim…still visible to Livia, only slightly hazy as if she were looking at a mirage, was saying something shaking at her shoulder...the overflow of otherworldly voices was too much for Livia to decipher what he was saying. Livia forced her eyes open once more, hoping for a normal sight only to jerk back at the appearance of two figures standing just over Tim's shoulders,
"Can you see us?" one figure asked, their voice echoing,
"Please tell us you can see us!" the other demanded, pushing themselves forward using a hand on Tim's shoulder for leverage…Tim didn't react…he couldn't feel the hand. Livia couldn't think straight, but…but slowly things, and events were starting to make sense. More specifically Lea Baudelaire's parting words suddenly made all too much sense,
"Constantine." Livia breathed practically pleading with Tim, clutching her head tightly, catching strands of hair in her clenched fingers. She knew how to get to him, but she had no means to contact Zatanna…this was the only quick solution, "I need Constantine."
Livia collapsed as soon as she, with Tim guiding her, reached the House of Mystery. How she managed to open a portal at all was a mystery in itself, but the burst of pain upon crossing through the threshold of the portal into the House of Mystery was enough to send her into oblivion. A blissful respite from the pain ripping through her head and the strange vision she was having. Livia came to with the sound of Tim and Constantine talking softly somewhere off to her right, a soft sofa underneath her. They were in the library, where most of her lessons had taken place and the place she'd spent the most of her time while in the House of Mystery. Livia was too scared to open her eyes at first, she didn't want to see the devastated version of her reality or the phantoms that walked within its Plane of existence. But she forced them open, as curious as she was frightened by this newfound ability. Or rather, a newfound nightmare if she didn't learn control. Livia hoped it was a temporary thing…just a minuscule consequence of her actions, but something in her gut told her that wasn't the case.
Constantine who was facing her from where he stood at the large round table—Tim stood with his back to her—noticed that she was awake first and fixed his light blue eyes on her a frown at his lips and a disappointed crinkle at his eyes. Livia felt irritated immediately as she groaned, sitting up with difficulty,
"What's this I hear about a séance?" Constantine questioned, as Tim turned around, looking expectantly at Livia,
"Why don't you tell me?" Livia bit back, rubbing at her forehead as she swung her feet to the floor. The headache was gone, as was the vision of a decrepit dusty world, though it still ached dully, "I've got the world's worst headache and for a split second…I-I don't know, I was seeing something else…I was seeing our world, but not…everything was different. Haunted…otherworldly,"
"There's a reason séances, necromancy, anything of the sort really are warned against unless you are naturally gifted with such an ability…well, necromancy is not so much a natural ability rather it's something that is learned but seriously frowned upon…but my point is, there's a reason magic users steer clear of the stuff," Constantine started, pulling out a cigarette and placing it to his lips before lighting it with the tip of his finger, "once you open that door, it's not so easy to close. It stays with you and sinks its claws into you. The other side is addicted to what they once had, to life…and will flock to what they think they need,"
"And what's that?" Tim asked, "What do they need?"
"Peace," Constantine replied simply,
"So…what…I'm, I'm seeing the other side? I'm seeing…ghosts?" Livia retorted, "I've seen ghosts before…why is this so different?"
"They came to you, love, this time it was the other way around. Perhaps we shouldn't have stopped your lessons after all,"
"And perhaps spell books should stop putting the warnings after the spells," Livia muttered, "Is it the Astral Plane…could I see my father again?"
"Is that why you did this?" Tim wondered, "To see Markus?"
"I wanted to make sure he wasn't…gone…he saved me in the Pavilion, I needed to make sure he was all right,"
"But?" Constantine mused, "I'm sensing a 'but' coming," Livia let out a sigh,
"But I got Léa instead," Constantine grimaced while Tim let out a rather colorful curse,
"Are you okay? I mean…she—," Tim started,
"—I know what she did Tim," Livia cut him off, "I'm fine. I won't lie I was shaken by her appearance…but I didn't dismantle the séance, at least not right away,"
"Why not?"
"I thought she might have more answers…about the Ancients, my ancestors...the merging ritual,"
"And why would you need to know that?" Constantine asked a look in his eye that Livia didn't quite like,
"Curiosity…and if Markus wasn't there to answer my questions, then Léa would have to do, only all she did was speak in riddles and whine about how much power she lost," Livia sighed, though she left out the part about her promise to give Léa more power. She didn't want to think about that, at least not until she was sure she could do it without hurting any more witches and without needing to use Darren as a magical battery, "How do I make this stop?"
"You don't," Constantine said simply, "Did you miss the part where I said 'once that door is open it's not an easy one to close?' There are rules for a reason, and this is a consequence of breaking them,"
"I broke a rule I didn't even know existed…and you said it's not that easy to close," Livia retorted, "it implies that there's a way to do it,"
"Patience…control…a shit ton of painkillers,"
"I'm serious!"
"I am being serious," Constantine bit out, "You've tapped into something that has a sense of sentience…those spirits are earthbound, they are aware of the world around them even if the non-magic-users aren't aware of them. They will learn you can see them and if you aren't careful or patient with them you will end up in the loony bin—and I hear the one in Gotham is not very nice. You'll need to control the sight, fine-tune the power and then you'll control the on-off switch, you can even use it to your own advantage…but until then they will come on like fits and they will probably cause you pain,"
"Great…just great. Why does it cause me pain?"
"You're peeling back layers of reality to see a demi-plane of existence. What did you think would happen?" Livia worried her lip, realizing it was somewhat like Darren and his precognitive abilities, his synapses fire faster and faster in order to see a few mere seconds into the near future…which feels like a firestorm in his brain if done too often and for too long,
"And how would this be used to my advantage?" Livia snorted, imagining herself curled up in a ball from pain while a spirit snapped at her to help them,
"Secrets," Constantine stated, a glitter in his eye, "You can see things on that plane of reality that wouldn't be on ours,"
"Like what?" this time Tim butted in, intrigued by the prospect,
"Auras and echoes mostly, though some have more abilities in the demi-plane than others. It depends on the magical ability of the person…and I'd imagine as a primordial entity such as yourself that's rather quite limitless,"
"Echoes?" Tim questioned, "what are those,"
"They're objects that have significance to the person who died, they hold feelings, thoughts, memories…if unlocked it's as if you are walking in that person's shoes yourself,"
"How wonderfully horrifying," Livia murmured, rubbing at her temples, "Do I have to help them? Don't get me wrong…if, if I even knew the first thing about this I would try and help and do the right thing, but I just don't think I could do it, not right now,"
"You don't owe these spirits anything. Helping them move on…would be great, but it's not your job. This is your power it's up to you to do what you want with it and if you're not ready, you're not ready,"
"Is there anything you can do to stop this completely? Anything at all?"
"You can't ignore this forever. You need to learn control."
"I know that!" Livia snapped, "I will, just not right now,"
"There could be a way…like the bracelet you wore which stalled your powers beyond maturity. But it could interfere with your overall powers, it can't be programmed for a singular ability," Livia grimaced. She couldn't be completely powerless. It wouldn't be or feel right and she might need her powers in the future,
"No. I don't want to bottle my powers up like that. I guess I'll learn to handle this," Livia muttered with a sigh,
"Is the headache still there?" Tim questioned,
"No. Thank God…and just in time for the—oh, oh no!" Livia gasped, "The math test! We can't miss that…Constantine, can you get us back there on time?!"
"What?" Constantine monotoned, "I can't just rearrange space and time for a math test!"
"It's a really important math test," Livia insisted, "Come on, it's just a few seconds," Constantine seemed to consider before nodding,
"Alright…a few seconds it is,"
"Wait what?" Livia barked as the magician uttered a few words and sparks of bright light shattered her vision. The air around them thickened and there was a pop in Livia's ears as if there were some kind of pressure change. Livia blinked, before rubbing her eyes, wherever they were was pitch black,
"Where the hell are we?" Tim hissed, smacking his hands against what seemed to be walls, knocking something, which sounded like a mop in a bucket, over with a clang, "A closet?" Livia's eyes were slowly starting to adjust, and she noticed a doorknob. With a quick motion, the door opened, allowing Livia and Tim to stumble out of a hallway supply closet,
"Oh…wow, great, this looks amazing," Livia muttered, grimacing as students walked past them, wide-eyed and whispering behind their hands,
"Huh," Tim mused, either purposefully ignoring the implication and imagination of others or not caring either way, "I think he put us back…seconds before the test started,"
"That asshole," Livia muttered as she and Tim shared a look before booking it down the hallways to their class.
Perhaps they should have just skipped it to begin with.
The mind-numbing-ness of detention had never truly bothered Darren, or at least its concept, until this point in time. Not until Darren was sitting in a room full of obnoxious, mouth-breathing, private school kids sitting in silence…the ticking of the clock bouncing around and around Darren's skull making it ache. Perhaps it was because Derek was there as well. Maybe it was because Darren hadn't slept well. Or all the above was the cause of Darren's exhaustion…of every little ounce of energy left within him draining, pooling, into nothingness as time marched on by…silently, mournfully, with one of his least favorite teachers proctoring.
Mr. Fredricks, the gym teacher, oozed a military background. Tall, shaved head, strong—something that Darren could begrudgingly admire from the standpoint of someone with a background in various kinds of physical training—but also attitude. A holier-than-thou perspective, one that makes them think to some extent, that they are invincible…and absolved of accountability. To be clear, that military background was not the issue Darren had with the man, it was more so the comfort such a background gave with authority…being authoritative and using authority. That kind of control never sat quite well with Darren. Every adult in a school had it to an extent, but none wielded it so freely and fiercely as Mr. Fredricks. And while it could be possible Fredricks was not of a military background, this man was clearly stubborn in his ways regardless. Darren could also be stubborn—though perhaps he is merely mirroring the behavior of Fredricks out of spite—and that was in part the reason for such difficulties within his PE classes. Darren was surprised Fredricks hadn't doled out detention to Darren before, though perhaps the man knew that would entail an explanation on both his and Darren's behalf, which would not cast him in a good light. Fredricks was playing his cards close to his chest, waiting for an opportunity that would never come. Regardless, Darren could be patient when warranted…certainly when goading prey toward a trap.
Though Darren, presently, was not patient. Not at all. He unconsciously tapped his foot to the rhythm of the clock, eyeing the device as it slowly pushed forward counting down the seconds to when he could leave. It was near agony, and while Darren measuredly sketched out a drawing, a rather unflattering one of Fredricks's likeness naturally, on a sheet of lined paper—other students diligently completed schoolwork around him or stared off into space or even read a book; though Darren had no stomach for any of that at the moment but also didn't want Fredricks berating him for not 'doing something productive'—he could feel the radiating unabashed vivacious energy, muted but growing…like a pressurized cork. The energy nearing its peak at the most inopportune time. Darren needed to have his hands busy, doing something to keep from pacing. From hurrying out of the room or from bringing attention to himself. Drawing was an easy outlet it kept Darren's head down and his glare away from Fredricks. He didn't want to be there, but he had no choice. Not only did Darren need to appease the teachers but also Dick and Barbara, whose worry, or at least attentiveness, to Darren's schooling had since increased from the principal visit onward and had not returned to baseline since.
It's not that Darren didn't appreciate Dick and Barbara's attention or the fact that they cared about his education and success. It was more Darren liked how things had been. It had been less of a walking nightmare and more of a hazy daydream. But now, Darren was walking on eggshells trying to simultaneously hide away and go about things as he had before while also maintaining a disturbing degree of normalcy to appease both faculty and guardians. It was easy to just skim the radar, now Darren was like a vitals monitor, bouncing up and down from high to low, with no means of respite. And that in itself was exhausting.
Darren could also feel eyes on him, which added to his present edgy energy. But he knew who was staring at him, he could feel the intensity of their gaze and he knew why they were so focused on him. But Darren kept his head down, his attention on his drawing. Even when, as Fredricks bent over to ruffle through his desk, the person maneuvered themselves to where Darren sat. Causing Darren to pause in his sketching, the pencil creaking in his tight grip. He didn't want to react—even if subtly—but he couldn't help it. The nearness of this person, their gaze, he was already on edge now his senses were haywire,
"You've been avoiding me," Derek Powers hissed at Darren. Derek, who was forced to join Darren in these detentions, was its own added hell. Derek's attention made an already tense and miserable situation considerably worse. Though Darren still engaged, he didn't know why…perhaps he hoped for another moment like the hallway, an opportunity to see a glimpse of fear in Derek's eyes. The satisfaction from that reaction was as intoxicating as it was dreadful. Though in all honesty, it wasn't necessarily the fear that was so captivating it was the person giving the reaction. Darren hated Derek Powers…pitied and hated all the same. He couldn't help but enjoy the older boy's suffering even if minute and even if Darren knew to some degree it was wrong.
Even as Darren told himself not to, he spoke, his lips barely moving and his voice barely above a whisper. He wasn't giving Fredricks any ammo against him,
"Yeah. I do that every day…on purpose…that's kind of the point," Derek bristled at that response, scowling over at Darren as if offended or mildly displeased. Darren couldn't parse out why or really care. Derek didn't care about Darren, or his attention…only when or if something concerned him, or his brother. Derek was the self-preservation self-serving kind of person that Darren could equally understand—though with a different connotation than Derek—and despise. Silence reigned once more, and it seemed that would be all Derek had to say so Darren returned to his drawing when Derek spoke up once more,
"Is it true?" his tone was serious, a note of urgency hidden by the bravado of someone much older, much more jaded than Derek ever could be. Darren's pencil stilled, his grip tightening, the pencil creaking dangerously in Daren's hand again,
"You'll have to be more specific," Darren breathed, though he knew what Derek was referencing. But he wanted Derek to say it, to confirm it before he preceded,
"Is what my mother said true? Did you really threaten my and my brother's lives?" Darren cut a glance at Derek…he could see the glimmer of fear in his eyes, the caution of wariness and concern as well as determination,
"I don't have to answer to you. I don't need to say anything. I could just let you sit there and wonder, and wait…and drive yourself mad with worry over something that may or may not happen,"
"But you won't," Derek monotoned, with confidence he really shouldn't have, "Because you're not them…or so you say. Letting me wallow in madness, now that is the true Talon way." It was bait…but it was effective bait and struck a nerve Darren didn't know existed. He jerked to face Derek, the pencil shattering in his hand,
"Don't speak as if you know…as if you understand…because you don't. You will never know what I—," Darren cut himself off, his teeth clacking together as his jaw snapped shut, "Just shut up Derek…just fucking shut up," but Derek had seen the crack in the all too perfect shell, and he took up his metaphorical chisel and continued to pick away,
"Is it true?" Derek bit out. Darren reached down into his bag, fishing around for another pencil. When he straightened, he threw Derek another side-eye, deciding that perhaps it wasn't worth it to hold off and goad Derek through his silence,
"I used whatever I had to get through to your mother that she needs to stick to what was agreed upon. She was operating behind my back, so I reminded her of what she had to lose," Darren replied, unbothered,
"But you won't," Derek asked, "Right?"
"Won't what?"
"Won't…I mean, won't come after me and Erik." Darren was silent for a moment, wondering what he would do if Lydia continued to toe the line. There was the option of revealing the drive's contents to the public…but Darren didn't want to be so trigger-happy with his strongest source of blackmail. And while Darren hated Derek, he wasn't worth the toll—and nuisance—of a planned kill…at least not yet. All the same, Darren couldn't have Derek outing his bluff to Lydia. It wouldn't change anything between them, and Darren didn't give a shit about Derek's opinion of him,
"That fully depends on your mother," Derek blinked, his mouth dropping open as if actually stunned by that response,
"Are you fucking with me?" Derek sneered, "Are you serious?" Darren turned to look Derek in the eye, a slow easy grin crossing his face,
"Deadly,"
"I'll—I'll…," Derek sputtered, fear and anger in his expression and tone,
"Do what?" Darren questioned, "This isn't your battle. This is between me and the Court, your mother at the helm. She won't hesitate to use her pawns, so I need to use mine."
Contrary to what might be the popular belief that Darren had little to no skill with anything related to strategy, in truth Darren was actually a formidable chess player—there hadn't been many games other than chess and backgammon, also one very old and very dusty set of senet, in the Nest, one got very good very quickly in a place with nothing remotely technological…the real issue had been finding time for playing chess that was when he got very crafty while in Harbor House and the Compound. And Darren found that there was a method as well as a place for the strategy those games developed in real life. It was perhaps Darren's apathy that made strategizing…or at least strategizing in the context of the Bats' operations within Gotham…difficult,
"You said it yourself, this isn't my battle…or my little brother's…leave us out of it!" Derek hissed through bared teeth,
"I don't think you understood me," Darren stated, "When I said this isn't your battle, I meant the one between me and your mother. You and your brother are already in on this…in the Court…you have been the moment your parents started their involvement. Before I was put in their supervision…before you were born. The Owls became their legacy—your legacy—from day one. The moment the Owls' claws sank in, they tore deep. You think I have a say…any control…in what the Court wanted from me? Even now? My mother is dead, I'm the last of my family and they're still hounding me. You wait, they'll pull you in…and if you refuse, they'll pick away at what you love most. They'll find what makes you tick, what makes you work…something—someone—you care about…and they use it against you. It's already started…and I think you know it too," Derek paled considerably at that though his frown had a stubborn curve to it and his eyes were still narrowed in anger,
"You still have control in what 'pawns' you use…find something else,"
"She killed the last pawn I wanted to use," Darren monotoned, trying to have some sympathy at the way Derek flinched at hearing that, but found it rather difficult, "So she really left me no choice. I think this is a conversation you should really be having with Lydia, she's the one forcing my hand,"
"You're choosing to involve us too. Your 'decision' has consequences—,"
"—You don't think I know that?" Darren interrupted, irritated, "As I said, take this up with Lydia, if she really didn't want you to be leveraged against her she shouldn't have taken on the role of Grandmaster…and if I hadn't used that threat anyone else would have just as easily, especially within the Court. If you think you're safe with your mom as Grandmaster you're wrong. The Owls are just as cutthroat, they won't hesitate, and I have to match them at every turn. You don't understand the gravity of this game…of this back and forth. You never have and that makes you a liability,"
"I understand this just fine," Derek snapped, "But you clearly don't understand what it's like having a little brother…to be a big brother…especially in a situation that involves an organization like the Court of Owls," Darren stilled in his sketching, drawing in a sharp inhale of air…stiffening, stunned at what Derek spat at him. 'I do' almost tumbled from his lips…he did know…he did understand to an extent. He did have a little brother—or he will, maybe…sort of. But he couldn't. Darren couldn't bring that sort of attention to Mikey…to his own pawns, not now. So, Darren merely continued sketching, that one blemish on the page erased, but clearly noticeable and he could see the slight intrigue in Derek's eyes, the knowledge that he struck a nerve,
"I can't make any promises. I won't, not with my freedom on the line," Darren said with finality. Only a glimmer of reluctance and regret settled heavily in his stomach. They were all just kids…stuck in this complex web of death and killing. But Darren could not give in or give up, not if it meant the only thing protecting him was destroyed,
"Fine." Derek stated icily, his tone sharp…too similar to his mother's, "then until you leave my brother out of your little game, enjoy me making your life a constant living hell." Before Darren could say that Derek already made his life a constant living hell, Derek spoke as he pushed back his chair rather loudly and obnoxiously, glancing back as he sauntered away, a hint of amusement in his tone and his voice several volumes too high,
"I don't think Mr. Fredricks' nose is that big Darren," The pencil in Darren's hand skittered harshly across the bottom of the page. The sound of a second breaking pencil was all Darren could do by way of releasing his frustration…and anger…as a shadow suddenly loomed over Darren's desk. With a sigh, Darren glanced up, a grimace on his face as his gaze met Fredricks' stormy one.
A/N: Hey guys! Hope you liked this chapter!
I definitely had a lot of fun writing it, especially the Livia sections. I do find it's a bit easier to be creative when writing things about her and her family history and the magic system that applies to her/the Baudelaires. I don't really take from canonic comics-related magic systems for DC. Just because I have my own perspective of what magic is/should be and it's easier to create my own lore than try to fit the story/plotlines into the specific parameters of the DC comics/universe. It gives me more freedom to write if my own magic system co-exists with what's already there in the DC universe with Constantine and Zatanna (ie: they need to speak, Zatanna speaks backward, and Constantine knows more of the occult-related aspects of magic because he's not a homo-magi like Zatanna and Livia, etc). In short, it's always fun to expand what you, the readers, know about magic through Livia.
The split/other world described in the second Livia section is inspired/based upon the video game Medium. I LOVED the lore/magic system in that game and especially how the abilities of the main character were visualized onscreen. I definitely recommend you guys play it or watch a walkthrough of it; it's a really well-done story. I don't think there will be a sequel though unfortunately. But in short, that's where I came up with the description as well as how Livia could interact with that world (ie auras and echoes). The game also goes even further with astral projection within the otherworld, and who knows...maybe Livia will develop such a skill as well. Hope you liked that aspect of Livia's expanding magical abilities.
Darren's chapter was slightly a filler section for this chapter, but also I felt established Derek as not so...aloof in Court matters as he lets on. I also kind of worry that some of Darren's chapters/sections seem so repetitive...I mean a lot of what Darren is experiencing won't just disappear overnight or magically go away. And I do try to portray these seemingly similar reactions/moments/thoughts in different ways as well as through different characters' perspectives as a way to keep it fresh. But again, I do understand how that can seem redundant. Idk, just a slight worry I have.
Finally, just a heads up...my dummy brain decided to insert another section/chapter in between chapter 17 and chapter 18 (so it will either be an add-on to chapter 17 or a new chapter 18)...so, there might be a slight delay on the next chapter update because of that. I did not realize how close I was to uploading those chapters; so in short, there will be a brief respite while I finalize those sections into whatever it needs to be lol. Sorry for the inconvenience, it'll be worth it I promise!
As always PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW! I do love to know how I am doing with this story and welcome any praise or criticisms!