Episode: 2.4

--- Molly ---

A strumming bass chord began to echo all around her as she forced down her panic.

“Tell me child, do you want see some magic?” a smooth voice sang from the shadows.

It took her but a moment to match the voice with the boy’s face.

“Well do ya?”

She glanced around trying to find the boy.

“I can’t hear you, luv…” the boy’s voice sang.

She swallowed down the dryness in her throat, her eyes still searching for the missing singer and musicians backing him up.

When she couldn’t she stuttered out a hesitant, “Y-yes?”

“Well then…”

A light flashed on behind her, and she whirled around to find the boy standing under a spotlight in a three-piece suit and top hat, holding a skull decorated cane in front of him.

The drums stilled, as if the whole world was holding its breath.

And the boy looked up with two eyes of gracious green and a grin that was ten different kinds of sin as he said:

“…it’s showtime!”

There was a flash of light, before colors of green and purple began swirling around her as an old speakeasy took shape around her in the form of a neon velvet painting.

A chair knocked into her legs, forcing her to sit at a table, where the boy somehow appeared in the split second she wasn’t looking. In the background, she idly noticed a piano began playing from the dark adding a solemn feel as the bass resumed.

“First and foremost,” The boy tipped his hat, an odd double beat echoing through the club, “…allow me to introduce myself.”

“I’m a man, of renown, known throughout the world.”

(Bit of an ego there…)

The boy picked up a glass of what looked like bourbon on the rocks.

The piano shifted tune, and she risked a glance around the club, only to freeze at the sight of the other patrons.

“I’m a man, of power and wealth. Owner of, this fine fine club.”

She idly noticed the boy gesture to the club, even as her mind was focused on the fact that sitting at every table was either a group of, or a lone skeleton, dressed in clothes out of the 50’s, suits and ties, dresses and necklaces, giving each one of the creatures their own sort of style, as they drank and smoke without livers or lungs.

A flash of light caught her attention as symbols began to drift out of the shadows, neon lights of green, purple, and pink dancing through the air in tune with the song around them.

“Over the years, I’ve learned there’s a certain something to the world, that gives it beauty that just seems to grow. Secrets and mysteries hidden throughout history, games to be played at every turn, even as my curiosity continues to burn.”

“Now they say the way to judge a man, regardless of his name, is by the way he plays the game, and how many sins he deigns to commit on the journey to his win.”

(That… makes sense…)

“Now me, my desire quite simply, is that I wish to be reunited with my family.”

The boy flicked open a pocket watch, and while she couldn’t see the contents his face told her how important it was to him. Eventually he shook his head, and stowed the watch away, before coughing into his hand.

“Ahem. Now then, you’ve already told me your goals…”

Her face scrunched up in confusion, as the boy stood from his seat.

(Wait… when did I do that?)

“But still, now that I’ve introduced myself,” the boy slowly walked around the table and she couldn’t help but feel a sense of foreboding, “I can’t help but find myself curious about… the beautiful lass, that helped me out.”

A slight blush to her cheeks was enough to distract her from his show and realize there was something wrong with her clothes.

(What?)

She glanced down and realized at some point she’d been changed out of her faded jeans and shirt, and into a crimson cocktail dress, with a pattern of black thorns and laughing skulls on the sides. A fact that made her sense of discomfort all the worse.

The boy smirked at her mortified blush,

“So, luv, why don’t ‘cha introduce yourself?”

A spotlight suddenly flashed on from above and drawing the attention of every skeleton in the bar to her. And even if none of them had eyes, she couldn’t help but feel her skirt was a little too short, her collar a little too long, and herself more than a little to insecure.

The boy watched her with a grin, one that she was seriously considering punching off his face.

She said nothing, and after a moment she realized the music in the background had begun to loop a light rift, almost as if waiting for her before moving onto the next rift.

Her eyes glanced between all of the spectating skeletons, each staring at her with an expectant gaze.

(He… He can’t expect me to…)

Her eyes fell on the boy and that stupid grin, and she realized,

(He does…)

Swallowing down her apprehension as the pressure began to build, she finally opened her mouth and began, “I’m a girl-”

“Ah, ah, ah.” The boy cut her off with a finger wag, “That doesn’t sound like a tune, tune, tune, to this little old loon.”

She stared at him for another moment before deciding, (Fuck it.)

“I-I’m a g-girl,” she began cautiously, not really used to singing,

(W-what else am I supposed to say?)

“Well, that or the prettiest man I’ve ever done seen.” The boy sang on when she stalled.

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She tried not to think on the slight burning to her cheeks, as she forced herself to try again.

“I’m, I’m a girl… of sorrow and pain.”

She froze.

She hadn’t meant to say that.

“I’m, I’m a girl… beaten and bruised…”

She really didn’t mean to say that.

(What the hell?!)

“I’m a girl… abandoned and abused…”

She wanted to stop, but at the same time the song demanded she finish the verse.

“S-so I know what it means to be alone…”

She felt an odd tension leave her, as the words left her, only to come back twice as hard when she realized everything she’d confessed to this… this stranger in that single verse.

(Why did I say any of that?!)

The boy and the crowd watched her for a moment, and she couldn’t help but feel like she was being judged by all the beings around her.

She tried ignoring the fact that the music seemed to have stopped.

After a moment, the boy snapped his fingers and the crowd of skeletons turned to dust and ash, as the floating symbols all burned themselves out, and the music started up once more in a more somber tone.

“Please, miss… Allow me… to re-introduce myself…” the boy began his voice far more subdued, as he took his seat once more.

“I like to think myself, a man of style and class. A man, of power and taste…”

The boy ran a hand down his face once more.

“Which is why, I can’t stand to see such potential,” he gestured towards her, “go to waste.”

She… wasn’t sure how she felt about that verse.

“I know, I’m a man… who’s done some good, and done…” the boy bit his lip, before admitting, “…a lot more bad…”

(On the one hand… he’s admitting he’s done bad things before, on the other hand… it’s pretty obvious he feels bad about it.)

“For years, I was madder than the hatter, high on violence of rage and drunk on tears of regret.”

The boy sounded bitter, almost as if he was cursing himself.

“But then one day I met a man, who told me not to fret.” The boy gave a dry chuckle. “And on that day, I learned a lesson, most intelligent, from one devilishly delightful gent.”

The boy hopped to his feet and stood in his seat.

“‘You’re a monster.’ He said, with these ghastly green eyes, ‘So, am I, so are my friends and we can all tell you, this doesn’t have to be the end. Not in the least.’”

“And so, he told me, ‘Quit acting like a mindless beast, you’ve the potential to do something monumental, and yet you waste away, day after day. It’s such a shame, and you know you’re the only one you can blame.’”

“Now, of course I was surprised, this gent had the audacity, to pretend he had the capacity to understand, to comprehend, and quite frankly, I was pissed.”

The boy’s eyes flashed black, as his tone became something she feared on a primal level, right up until he started to cackle.

“Or I was, until he kicked my ass, at least.”

The boy’s smirk removed all anger from his features, as if he was telling a great secret.

“So beaten, broken, and quite bitter mind you, I asked him, ‘Then what the bloody hell am I supposed to do?’”

“And he said, ‘You’ve lived a life of tragedy, but that doesn’t have to be your only strategy, for instance take my old friend baron Samedi, the man ‘s been dead since before A.D. and do you see him crying?”

The boy leapt off his seat, landing less than foot away with a manic grin as he sashayed.

“No.” The boy shook his head grinning like a fool, “He took his afterlife and even dead he made himself into the life of the party instead.’”

“With nothing better to do, I gave it a go, or two, may’ve been thirty-six, actually,” the boy shrugged, “but eventually I figured it out!”

He hooked an arm around her waist.

“We died. Our lives? They sucked. But we got a second chance. So, why not have fun, sing, and dance like no one ‘s looking?”

She’s not afraid to admit she may’ve meep-ed, when he picked her up and twirled her in the air, before setting her down.

“I’m sure you get it.” He sang in a sad sympathy, “You’ve died, but this is a new day and a new you. Are you really going to make the same mistakes? I mean, are you really going to tell me you’ve got nothing new to say?”

She considered the question, considered everything he’d said.

(He’s right, my life sucked… Hell, it’s why I thought killing myself was a good idea…)

(Everyone’s)

(Am I really going to live in that hell again?)

It took her less than a second to have an answer.

(Fuck no.)

She glanced down at her dress, and while it was nicer than anything, she’d ever owned… she wasn’t quite feeling it, and for some reason that made her want to smirk.

“If I have something to say, then I must say this dress doesn’t impress.” She channeled her inner Charlotte as ran a hand down the outfit. “I don’t mean to debase, but you’re sense of fashion is something of a disgrace, for this dress is sorely in need of replace.”

“Really, now?” The boy laughed, “Then why don’t ‘cha re-introduce yourself, luv? Tell me about the you, you’ve supposedly embraced, and we’ll retrace this outfit posthaste!”

“Well then let’s see…” she tapped her chin in thought, she really did need to think about this. She was enjoying herself, for the first time in ages, and she didn’t want to fuck that up by singing about how messed up her life was, meaning she needed to say something positive about herself… (but what?)

“I’m a woman…” she started, deciding if the boy was going to call himself a man, then well she can do the same.

She paused, trying to think of the next verse.

Half expecting the boy to cut in with another snarky verse, she gave him quick glance revealing a gentle smile on his face, one that said while he noticed the pause, he wasn’t going to call her out on it, something her rolling stomach greatly appreciated.

(Come on… who am… what have I done?)

Then she remembered.

“I’m a woman,” she repeated.

(The bully swung on her, knocking her to the ground, as the crowd watched refusing to lift a finger to help her.)

(She wanted to cry but didn’t want to give them the satisfaction.)

(So, instead she got back up and decked the bitch.)

“who’s fought and endured…”

She grinned, as a black vest formed on her torso, the thorn and skull pattern remaining in silver.

“I’m a woman,”

(She was alone yet again, wandering the school library, hiding from her bullies.)

(Idly, she read a title that caught her attention, before taking the book and reading it cover to cover.)

(Finishing the first book, she grabbed a second, after all she already had to spend hours alone, so why not do something productive and study everything she could get her hands on.)

“of intelligence and charm.”

True, the last bit was a little iffy, but it was her song damn it. And (thank the heavens) she had pants now.

“I’m a woman, they thought beat down, just because they wear some false crown.”

A fedora? (Why the hell not?)

She tipped her hat to the boy.

“But I will not break, because I realize the stakes, and all I have to say to those liars and fakes, is ‘Fuck you bitches, I’m done.’”

The boy laughed, clapping his hands as a pair of black slacks wrapped around her legs, and her dress lost a few inches becoming more of a blouse.

“Oh, luv, I can just tell you’re going to be hell-a fun.”

“That said…” The boy cracked his neck as the music began to calm down, “I’ve got a deal to uphold.

The boy stepped up to her and pulled her close, sending an odd wave of cool-warmth through her as their hands met.

“Up until now, you’ve had to live a life, you hate. Filled with a darkness that just won’t abate…”

The boy’s solemn tone gave way to a too wide grin, as the cool-warmth began to shift and move inside of her.

“But I’ve got some news you’re going to love, luv…”

The boy cackled at his simple joke, his voice becoming almost manic in his excitement.

“You’ve got power in your hands now, a way to change your fate!”

He clasped her hands together, drawing the cool-warmth into them.

“There’s a rhythm in your soul…”

She felt the cool-warmth in begin to condense in her chest.

“…a song in your head…”

He tapped her head, sending a pleasant pulse of cool-warmth through it.

“…and a beat in your heart.”

He pressed her hands to her chest, and the thrum of her cool-warmth began to change.

“All your life you’ve been playing to everyone else’s tune…”

With each pulse, the feeling in her chest began to slowly drift into her arms, before being pulled back into her chest, only to push a little further the next time, until the feeling began to brush against the palms of her hands.

The boy stepped away, a kind smile on his face.

“So, why not today… you play to yours instead?”

She couldn’t help but marvel at the rhythm slowly building within her, a tune only she could hear. The song mesmerized her in a way she couldn’t quite describe, like trying to sing a song but not quite remembering the lyrics.

She could both feel the odd cool-warmth smoothly moving through her limbs, and pooling into her hands, only this time she just knew this was her, not him, but her doing it.

A faint glow began to peak through her hands, as a faint note hummed in the air.

Eventually a childlike curiosity got the better of her, and hands slowly pulled apart to reveal a small ball of light glowing in her hands.

She dared not touch the little light, terrified she’d damage it in some way.

“You know…” the boy began, no longer singing as he placed his hands just beneath hers, “I like to think the reason people call magic, ‘magic’ is…”

He lightly pushed up against her hands, sending the light shooting into the air.

She reached out to try and catch the light before anything could happen to it, only for the little ball to shatter half-way to the ceiling, sending hundreds of smaller lights drifting all around her.

“…because sometimes the only way to describe a spell is…”

“Magical.” She finished, feeling as if she was surrounded by all the stars in the midnight sky, not realizing her smile shone just as bright.