[https://i.imgur.com/m63zgew.png]
Glass was sure a fascinating invention. Wait, could glass be called an invention? Obviously, someone, somewhere, discovered that melting sand, soda ash, and limestone resulted in it. But did that qualify as invented? Or was it stumbled upon, like Penicillin or Velcro?
Caleb huffed out a breath that fogged the window he peered out of. What had he become? He NEVER stared out of windows, sighing like a lost puppy. But he just couldn’t concentrate on books, writing, on making potions, or organizing runes. It was a strange and disconcerting feeling.
He wanted to see her again. Talk to her about stupid things. Lean together as they laughed and joked. In fact, he'd been compiling questions in anticipation of their next meeting.
[https://i.imgur.com/q2nXWwP.png]
The most pressing being is the underwear of the deceased haunting their old drawers? Perhaps that was the actual cause of lost socks. The fear of underwear ghosts made them flee in terror.
He snorted, imagining underwear ghosts chasing a sock.
Then he’d move on to the less important questions, like which souls would she invite to a dinner party for maximum chaos? Afterwards, they could discuss her favorite underworld band and foods.
He might never ask a few things, such as her loneliest moment as an immortal, or if she regretted punishing any souls. Those seemed a little too deep for this budding relationship. But, perhaps eventually, they’d learn everything there was about each other.
“When we finished talking, we could watch the history channel together.” He let out a breath and wrote her name inside of a heart onto the foggy glass.
“That would be so great. Le sigh. We could accidentally knee touch! She could correct all the things historians got wrong. God, that would be such fun.”
He continued to trace patterns in the window, the cold biting into his finger
“She could tell me how and why the Library of Alexandria burned. Or…or…the real purpose behind Stonehenge, or the Easter Island statues. Fuck, the list is endless!”
He frantically grabbed at the paper and pen in his pocket. With shaking hands, he scribbled the new questions under the old ones. Now, asking about underworld bands sounded trivial. Instead, an in-depth discussion on William Harvey’s habits and personality seemed much more interesting.
“Awwww! I’m so pitiful! Such a pathetic husk of a man!” Caleb lamented overly dramatically. “Is she thinking about me? Does she care about me!? Does she hate me!?”
She was, but he couldn’t know that, so he didn’t.
“But I want to be close to her.” Because he was turning into a broken record, he sighed again.
He slumped forward and pressed his forehead to the glass. The cold zapped his skin, and for a second, he thought about something other than Styx. But once the sudden temperature shock was over, his mind returned to her.
“I bet she looks great in the dim light of a huge thunderstorm. The ominous shadows of storm clouds rolling over her.”
But before he could imagine her, his entire world shifted. Instead of staring out into his yard, a vision ensnared him.
Panic constricted his airway as primal fear overwhelmed rational thought. He was prey—hunted for twisted amusement by forces unseen but closing in. Mad cackles echoed from endless shadows as he staggered into a building’s rough brick facade, its jagged grain abrading his cheek.
From the corners of his vision danced obscured figures just out of sight, ever shifting, swirling like wolves toying with their next meal. He whimpered as their menacing shapes flowed by, so achingly close but never quite within view. Chest heaving with strangling dread, he understood the horrors that awaited should they drag him into thrashing darkness.
When he dared gaze up again, relief washed over him spying the familiar schoolyard. But reality warped sickeningly as he took in the innocent faces surrounding him. The name engraved above the entrance...Emma’s school.
At once, the implications of finding refuge there crashed over him with hellish certainty. The hunt had turned toward piercingly vulnerable prey. And he was the bloodstained trail leading ruthless evil to her door…
Emma!
Emma was in trouble. Caleb thrashed against the confines of the vision. Struggled to break the borders that held him. Thrashed to be free.
If something happened to her, his world would come crashing down. Not just because of losing Emma, but also because of Styx. He knew that escorting Emma’s soul would make her downright depressed.
Then, with a snap, he returned to his living room, his face pressed against the window. He lurched back, toppling from the chair and landing in a heap on the floor. All the oxygen seemed to have left his lungs as he struggled to suck in enough air.
“Emma!”
Fumbling several times, his clammy hands finally latched around his cellphone. He swore as he grappled with the touchscreen before he heard ringing. Each second stretched horribly, elongating to the obscene, lasting forever, until her voice was there, breaking the spell.
“Uncle C. What’s up?” Emma’s voice was chipper and unconcerned.
“Emma! Emma! God, are you okay? Please, are you okay?”
Emma only laughed. “What? I’m perfectly peachy, just got out of school. And I met with Mrs. Diana, she’s signed me up for an advanced economics class. I’m super excited.”
With each word she spoke, a little of the tightness broke. But he wouldn’t find complete satisfaction until she returned home or arrived here.
“Is everything okay? Are you being followed? Is someone following you?”
“Uh, are you okay? You didn’t do too much weed, right? That stuff makes you way paranoid.”
He blew a lock of hair from in front of his eyes. “No, I’m completely sober. I just had a terrible vision. You were being stalked.”
“Vision? I thought they were all about the girl with the scythe…Wait! Do you think that was Styx?”
He startled. Fuck, why hadn’t he connected the dots himself? There were only so many scythe-wielding ladies around. Unless there was a big underground group of them. No, he shook his head.
“That’s not important right now. Listen, I need you to be really thorough. Make sure you aren’t being followed.”
“Jesus, you and your paranoia.”
“Please, indulge me.”
“Okay, okay, hold your scrolls.”
Caleb fidgeted with a pen, swirling it over his fingers and back again. His worst fears would be realized if she returned with a startled gasp or scream. Stronger anxiety blossomed at the thought, because he was at least fifteen minutes away. It would be too late to rescue her.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
“Sorry to disappoint. I don’t see a single thing or person who would be slightly suspicious or dangerous. Except Brian M. He’s so good looking, it’s dangerous! I’d love to swap some spit…”
“Emma Louise Mitchell!”
“Truth, uncle, truth. But you can calm down now. I see no danger.”
“Okay, okay, deep breath.” He sucked in through his nose and exhaled through his mouth. “Okay. Do you have the protective amulet that I gave you?”
“I do! Never leave home without it, because you’re paranoid. I didn’t want to risk you showing up again in your scholar robes and hat to drop it off like you did that one day. Everyone teased me for a month until Whitney dropped Britney during cheer practice.”
“Go home now, do not pass Go, do not collect $300. Go.”
“I can tell this has freaked you out, and I love you care about me so much...but no.”
“No?”
“No, I have drama club this afternoon, remember? I can’t miss it. We’re planning the costumes for A Midsummers Night Dream.”
“Fuck.” He pulled a hand through his hair. “Fuck. Well, just be careful, okay? Get someone to walk you home. I don’t want you to be left alone. Got it? Promise me.”
“Jesus, yeah, I got it. Not alone, straight home. Go take a chill pill or something.”
“Yeah, okay, be safe. Call me when you’re done.”
“Yeah, and right after, I’ll call your shrink. See ya!!”
Caleb stared at the darkened phone screen long after Emma hung up, willing it to remain free of any dire updates. His hands continued trembling, the gnawing disquiet in his gut unabated. Emma claimed she was fine, oblivious to any danger, but his instincts screamed otherwise.
He couldn’t shake the chilling vision, its ominous portent still clawing at his mind. Rubbing his chest, he choked back the panic rising like bile.
“I wish Styx was here,” he whispered wistfully.
A knock at the door startled him, body jolting in frightened surprise. But before he could stumble to his feet, Styx strode in.
[https://i.imgur.com/qufZ2RT.png]
“Styx!” Caleb cried out in relief, the single word conveying a thousand unspoken fears. His legs wobbled as he rocketed up from the floor, barely noticing the sting of his knees slamming against the hard surface in his desperation to reach her.
Throwing himself into her arms, the solid reassurance of her presence nearly brought him to tears. Clinging tight, he soaked up her strength and warmth, allowing himself a momentary respite from the dread still lurking at the edges of his mind. Caleb pressed his head into the crook of her neck, trying not to cry.
The chuckle from her chest rippled through his and he let a tiny shred of hope blossom. If something went wrong with Emma, Styx was here to help save her.
“Okay,” she said, shoving him backwards. “That’s enough for now. You better calm down or I’ll sever your soul.”
He sniffled some before backing off and slumping back into his seat. “Thank god…”
“Don’t thank him,” Styx said with a grin. “God doesn’t actually exist. If you’re going to thank anyone, thank the Creators. They’re the true god of this world.”
“Right, right. Thank the Creators you’re here. I just had the worst vision, and it’s making me paranoid. I don’t know what to do or how to fix it!”
“A vision? But you don’t have magic.” Styx moved the extra plush Sherpa blanket from the couch beside him and sat down.
She seemed to be made to tuck perfectly against him, effortlessly aligning her slight frame with each dip and curve along his side. For these few seconds, everything was perfect.
The warmth of her arm as it nudged close sent shivers cascading through his chest. Even the slight scent of ash and cloves clinging to her was immensely comforting. It was intoxicating and invigorating. A contented sigh escaped him as she snuggled closer. Yeah, he could get used to this.
The anxiety that had been clawing at him eased slightly. With her by his side, they could accomplish miracles. That meant if Emma was in danger, together, they could save her.
“You’re telling me. They started about a month ago. Typically, they were me, but this one was about Emma.”
“Tell me everything.”
The idea of voicing those words and feelings made the ball of anxiety tighten up again. He didn’t want to recount the abhorrent, ghastly, and vulgar vision, but if anyone needed to know it, Styx did. So, struggling to hide his mortal fear, he regurgitated the vision in all its painful details.
Afraid of the repercussions, he spoke quickly, trying to shove the feelings of hopelessness and guilt down. After, he felt equal parts better and worse. But at least she was here. Either from pity or something else. She took his hand and squeezed.
“Don’t worry, Cal. Everything will be fine. I’m here now, and I won’t leave until you get word Emma is safe at home.”
He perked up. “Really? You’d do that for me?”
“Yes,” she said with a smile. “Why not?”
Caleb slumped forward, super-duper relieved. “Thank you. Hopefully, she’ll be safe at home soon. But not too soon.” He winked at her. “In the meantime, can I interest you in some refreshments? Then the entertainment!”
“Depends. What do you have? And what qualifies as entertainment?”
Caleb smiled wider and leaned toward her. “I was thinking about showing you my grimoire and sacred text collection.”
Styx giggled. “You sure know how to entertain a girl.”
Caleb beamed at the praise. “I knew it! Every magical being I’ve shared my collection with found it entertaining.”
She froze and glared at him. “Every magical being? Do you have a revolving door of immortal gods?”
He shook his head. “No! No! Not at all. You and Rowan are the only gods I’ve had the pleasure of hosting.” He started counting on his fingers. “Everlong, Astrid, Elowen, oh and Stormshroud. He really liked the Shinto texts.”
Styx eyed him for a moment before relenting. “Good. I’m the only immortal god that gets to see anything of yours.”
That was totally 100%, completely, utterly, wholly fine with him. Because that meant they were exclusive…or did it?
“Uh, does this mean we’re a real couple now?” he asked, perking up.
She froze and glanced over at him. “Nope, we haven’t known each other long enough to be a couple.”
“How long will that take?”
“Fifty years, at least.”
She was joking, right? He’d be close to a hundred if that was the case. But then again, she was worth it.
“Okay! I’ll wait for you. Just don’t be too repulsed when you see my wrinkly old balls.”
She elbowed him. “I won’t be. I guarantee I’ve seen older.”
They laughed together as he pulled her up and held her hand, walking to the kitchen.
“I have blueberry muffins, but they could be paranoia inducing, so you might think about refusing. But I also have some earl gray tea, and figs.”
“Figs! I love figs! Love, love. Tasting dead female wasp is so delicious.”
Caleb laughed. “Yeah, I see how they would appeal to you. I got these from a local farmer, so be assured they have dead stuff inside.”
“Yes! Score!”
Caleb sat her at the table and prepared everything. It took him more time than it should have. He kept stealing glances at her. Someone must have tailored whatever outfit she was wearing for her.
The subtle forest green fabric matched her skin and make it glow. Even the dark trousers clung to her deliciously. He had to muster some serious effort to concentrate and not fall at her feet in worship.
But, finally, he presented her with a delectable spread. Fresh figs, tea, popcorn, and muffins. When she started eating, he pulled out that list from his pocket.
“First, do the underwear of the dead become ghosts? Do they haunt their old drawers?”
Styx burst out laughing, spraying a fine mist of liquid across the table. It took her a solid two minutes to control herself before snorting one last time.
“Cal, what in the hell was that?”
“Inquiring minds want to know. Because I’m convinced they scare the socks away.”
She snorted more before stuffing a handful of popcorn into her mouth. “Well, I hate to disappoint but no. There are no underwear ghosts.”
He snapped. “Damn! Damn. That’s a missing opportunity if I’ve ever seen one. Next, which souls would you invite to a dinner party for maximum chaos?”
Styx grinned and tapped her chin. “Excellent question. How big is the table?”
“Twenty-three spots.”
“Twenty-three?” her brow wrinkled, and he found the thin lines to be more appealing than he expected. “Salvador Dalí, Oscar Wilde, Freud for sure. Hummm…Joan of Arc, she’s a riot. Mark Twain, Marie Antoinette. I’d have to seat Cleopatra and Napoleon together. They’ve been a couple for at least a hundred years.”
Caleb froze with a handful of popcorn halfway to his mouth. “They’re together? Like involved?”
“Yep, I’d have to sit da Vinci and Marie Curie together, too. They’re like teenagers. Same thing with Frida and van Gogh. I kept finding them bumping cheeks all the time.”
“Oh, uh. Go them!”
“Back to the task. I’d seat Ayn Rand and Marx next to each other.”
“Um, are they lovers?”
Styx laughed. “No, they’re sworn enemies, which is why I’d place them next to each other. So entertaining! I’d stick Henry VIII next to Joan. They’d be stabbing each other before long.”
“I could see that.”
“Genghis Khan would be there, along with Earhart. I’d have her next to Freud. They always seem to fight about her fearless spirit. It’s great. Warhol, Rasputin, and Frederich Nietzsche for sure. They’re always fun at parties. Last would be Nero. He’s such a bastard, everyone hates him. Does that satisfy you?”
[https://i.imgur.com/hD317qR.png]
He chewed faster. “Yes! Can we do that?”
She smiled at him. “Sure, sounds great. It’s been a while since I got some conflicting personalities together for some chaos.”
Caleb’s mood darkened. “Do you think Emma will be okay?”
“I’ll make sure she’s okay.”
“I’m so glad you’re here! So.” Caleb leaned closer and wiggled his eyebrows. “Want to check out some magic books?”
Styx giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hands. It was such a demure and adorable move that he almost exploded. But it was something perfectly her.
From this moment forward, he resolved to devote himself completely to her. He would provide anything she required—gifts, comforting arms when sorrow struck, a steadfast companion for all time. Her happiness would become his singular purpose.
Fulfilling her every need and wish would bring him a joy unmatched by any he had known before. Her smile alone would be the greatest blessing of his life.