Wheelz
👎🎶
Klipper
What? Wheelz, come on. Those songs are LIT.
Wheelz
Z? Really? 🐽, take your '90s popped collar and F-boy anthems and go.
👊🎤✋
Klipper
Yo! What?
Wheelz
Sorry man, she jacked my phone.
No to the songs, too many trigs, but catch ya tonight. Wheelz, out.
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O'Leary
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“You’re the cactus? You’re the freaking cactus that stabbed me?!”
“I am connected to it. Now please stop talking. There are too many shades here and your voice will attract them, even with the layer of music. You need to listen because I am quickly losing connection to this lost soul. We have little time.”
The start of a question slipped between O’Leary’s lips, but the color was draining rapidly from the cactus. “I’m listening.” He gave a nod.
“Take the potato chips and get out of the house. Do not touch anyone.”
“I hate ketchup.”
“Rooster is coming — good luck, Triskele.”
“A what? Hey, what’s a rooster? What’s a triskele?”
“You are.”
Which one? Dammit. O’Leary sat on the island and stared at the cactus. “Come on, Meyonohk…” But with her last words the cactus’ color drained away. “What about other things, eh? You know, objects that are gray, or colorless, or whatever. Can I touch those?”
Asher regained his feet as Wheeler and Klipper helped him drunkenly stumble towards the bathroom. Folks were giving them space. Space O’Leary could use to get to his shoes and the front door. He grabbed the ketchup chips with an ‘affront to nature’ snarl and trailed the stumbling trio out of the kitchen.
Party goers did their best to give Asher some room, and no one wanted to get in a Klipper’s way. Leaner than O’Leary, but even relaxed, there was a feral dare in Klipper’s eyes. They took Asher down the hallway towards the bathroom. O’Leary sent a silent good luck after him, but kept moving towards the door as the party soundtrack dropped the baseline for Marshmello’s Paralyzed. As he slipped between a twisted-up couple and the wall, O’Leary couldn’t help but wonder if someone was mocking him. Nah. They were just well beyond Wheeler’s curated playlist and into the realm of random club and top 40 hits. With a vault over the couch to avoid the people dancing beside it, he made it to the front door. His dad would say they all looked like a bunch of Elaines. People would laugh politely, but no one would get it.
He reached out, wait. His hand stopped thumb’s width from the doorknob. It was gray. Can I even touch this? Is the door going to turn into a mouth and bite my head off? He looked around for his shoes, but they were colorless. Dammit. Okay, screw this. O’Leary tapped the doorknob with a flinch — nothing happened. No door monster, check. He reached out and tried to turn it, but it wouldn’t budge. What? The? Hell? Come on!
O’Leary’s pocket vibrated. His phone? It worked. He could text someone for help. With a quick glance around, he shifted to the side of the door, so he was out of the way, and unlocked his phone. It was a text….
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Wheeler
Got all your fingers and toes working?
What the hell is going on? Aliens got you too?
You with the cactus?
Wheeler
You weren’t probed, and this isn’t your first trip.
Listen and remember.
The Captain is going to need you.
Asher?
Yeah, he’s here. Puking his guts out.
What’s hockey got to do with it?
Probed?! Feck, I hadn’t thought of that…
Wheeler
Not that one.
Find food. High calorie. Colorful.
I need to scram. So do you. Trust Cheddar.
No. Wait. I’m trapped in your house!
I can’t get out, man.
O’Leary stared at the screen, but no text came through. Fingers slid over the screen while he looked around. He fired off a ‘Helpful. Thanks.’ text to Wheeler and let out a sigh. No. He wasn’t getting stuck here to be probed and captured by alien monsters pretending to be teens. O’Leary grabbed the door with both hands, set his feet and pulled as hard as he could. Come on! When that didn’t work, he grit his teeth and slammed his shoulder into it with a snarl. The rebound knocking him on to a collision course with a partied-out Tabitha heading home for the night, but something green slammed him from the side and sent him to the ground beside her. He knew it was an energy wall, but he didn’t know how he knew it, or how such a thing as an ‘energy wall’ was possible.
Tap, tap, tap.
He rolled to his left, twisting away from Tabitha. Was that the window?
Tap, tap, tap. “Triskele?” Tap. Tap. Tap. “Seamus O’Leary?”
The sound was coming from the window. O’Leary got to his feet, avoiding Tabitha as she scoured the pile of shoes for her own, and looked out the living room window. He could just make out a delicate face sporting a spikey green mohawk. With a hop, O’Leary cleared the couch for a second time and delivered his own tap, tap, tap, against the window. “The door won’t open.”
“Wait.” The window muffled her voice, but O’Leary could mostly hear her.
“Wait? Wait for what?” he asked, pressing an ear up against the window.
“Lady Wraith… witnesses… you need to follow… out.”
He removed his ear and nodded. He understood — sort of — O’Leary guessed opening doors was beyond his ability now. Yup, another thing that was just like every ghost movie ever. Looking over at the door, two others joined Tabitha in finding their shoes, and as they opened the door, he slipped in behind and followed them out.
“Hello, Triskele,” said the woman with the green mohawk. She stood on the lawn by the window with her weight evenly distributed across her long legs. Her arms hung relaxed at her sides.
O’Leary didn’t know what to make of her. He’d known punks in his school, but that didn’t fit. She was a little older than him and about the same height, lithe, but her posture spoke of leadership, experience, and hard work. She wore torn and stained blue denim overalls, an orange shirt under a black leather jacket, and brown work boots. Across her chest were two bandoleers that each held six small bundles of sticks. She held a third bandoleer of twigs in her left hand.
O’Leary kept moving towards her, doing his best to look imposing. “Hi. Sorry, but who the hell are you and why do people keep calling me Triskele? What the hell is hell?” He glanced at the ground. “Wait. Did you bring a rooster?”
“No,” she said with a giggle. “I’m Rooster, but please keep your voice down.” She moved her hands in a downward motion. “Triskele is a moniker you’ve earned among the Wardens.” She held out the bandoleer of twigs in her hand. “There isn’t much time, and I need to see to other business, but here; this is yours.”
“Rooster is a name?” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “Okay, I thought, there was some kind of creature called a rooster.”
“There is,” she said, flashing a smile. “Your skill humbles me.”
That answered his rooster question. “Thanks. I guess.” O’Leary moved up beside her and took the bandoleer, slinging it over his shoulder. It felt familiar. “You know they can’t hear us, right?”
“They hear and hunt in their own way. You’re lucky to be here, Triskele, because Lady Wraith was doing everything she could to keep you Grayside.” Rooster turned and started walking across the colorless lawn.
O’Leary followed. “Wait. I have a lot of questions.”
She stopped at an old poplar tree in the neighbor’s front yard and reached into her bandoleer with her left hand, pulling free a twig. Then, with her right hand, Rooster gently touched the poplar tree’s cracked bark. Color flowed into the tree from root to leaf. “There will be time for questions, but Asher is going to need you with him, and Meyonohk’s plan needs me somewhere else. Good luck, Triskele.” Her fingers tensed and the twig released green energy as it broke. Rooster took in a deep and steady breath, calling the energy into her. It was over in a moment, the only sign she held the energy being a darkening of her mohawk. She closed her eyes and O’Leary saw her index finger twitch against the bark. A pulse of green energy shot along the tawny colored skin of her hands, danced across nails painted black, and into the tree. The bark rippled.
“In the house, you kept me from falling into Tabitha with…” O’Leary had so many questions, but he knew the answer to this one. “Energy manipulation. You’re a tree caster. Oh, feck. I’m a tree caster.”
Rooster answered with a smile. “Now, eat your chips before you fade.” She said it with a mother’s tone as she stepped into the tree and disappeared.
"Feck me." Magic is real.